Page 3 of The Millionaire Mortician

I f it wasn’t one thing, it was the other.

For the most part, being a funeral director and mortician gave me peace, but the streets gave me hell.

Time and time again, I asked myself if I wanted to continue dealing with the bullshit, but then something in me wouldn’t stop. I believe it was the thrill of it all.

One thing I hated doing was taking a life if it wasn’t necessary.

Two men were gone because we sat there and took the word of someone we were supposed to trust. Although Maverick and I never fully trusted anyone but each other, to some extent, the lieutenants in our camp were supposed to be trustworthy.

Not only did we now have a problem on our hands, but it was also within our organization, and we had someone to protect.

Reem didn’t have to say shit to us. He could’ve played along with Dave’s plan with hopes of everything falling in line, and he would’ve been good either way.

Instead, he was a real nigga and was loyal to the Marcano Organization and put us up on game.

After a long afternoon, I decided to go home and take a day away from the funeral home. I was mentally exhausted and just needed to unwind for a while. When I walked into the house, Daija was surprised as hell to see me home early.

She ran into my arms. “Babyyy! What are you doing here?” she happily sang.

“A nigga needs a moment, Daij,” I expressed as I held her around her waist.

“I know. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to our bedroom.

As we got into the room, she instructed me to get undressed while she went into the bathroom adjacent to the room and filled the tub. Slowly, I peeled off my suit, then my underclothes.

I sat at the foot of the bed and started thinking about my parents and family back home in Trinidad. The interview not only pulled memories to the forefront but also emotions. The wild part about it was that their death anniversary was approaching.

“Bae,” Daija called out to me from inside the bathroom.

I shook off my thoughts for the moment and made my way to her. The tub was filled with bubbles, candles were lit, and the TV on the wall was tuned to my favorite old-school R&B playlist.

Smirking, I pulled her in for a hug and pecked her lips. “Thank you, beautiful.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” She smiled sweetly.

As I got in the tub, Daija closed the door behind her, leaving me to have some peace.

Stirring in my sleep, I felt a soft hand rubbing my head. I cracked my eyes open and saw Daija caressing my head while watching something on TV with the volume at a whisper. Apparently, I fell out after I got out of the tub and ate some food. The nap was well needed.

When I checked my phone, the time was 7:30 p.m. I instantly thought of going back to sleep, since I had nothing to do and the night was near.

Just as I was about to close my eyes again, my phone rang.

Looking at the screen, I saw it was Mav calling.

I felt Daija’s eyes burning a hole through the side of my head as I swiped to answer.

“Yo, bro,” I picked up.

“I’m outside,” he informed me.

So long for fuckin’ sleep , I thought as I sat up and stretched.

“Where you goin’?” Daija questioned with an irritated facial expression.

“My brother’s here. I’ll be right back,” I told her.

She sucked her teeth and laid back in the bed. I felt her attitude from across the bedroom, which was huge.

I threw on a t-shirt and basketball shorts, then made my way downstairs. By the time I reached and opened the front door, Maverick, along with his right hand, Dodge, and my right hand, Tave, were walking up the steps.

What the fuck is going on?

Each one dapped me up, then made their way further into the house.

“Daija here?” Mav inquired while looking up the stairs.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s go to your office,” he suggested, so that’s what we did.

Everyone got comfortable while Mav stayed standing as he paced the floor.

“So, what’s really good?” I asked.

The fact that our immediate circle was sitting in one room and they showed up unannounced meant something was up.

“Dave’s gotta get handled, and now,” Maverick blurted out.

“You got me outta my fuckin’ bed for the obvious?” I snapped.

“Fuck you mean, nigga? Duhhh. That shit’s got me uneasy,” Mav admitted.

“Nah, on some real shit, we gotta get on it,” Tave chimed in.

I looked over at Dodge, who gave a confident nod in agreement.

Sighing out loud, I started pacing the office floor opposite Maverick as an idea suddenly hit me.

“The recent shipment isn’t all unloaded.

I can go in tonight, pull the drugs from one of the bodies, and have Dave come pick it up.

We can make the nigga feel we’re giving him more access after what he did.

” I shrugged, waiting for their feedback.

Mav stopped in his tracks. “That’s not a bad idea. Let the nigga get comfortable so he doesn’t think we’re on to him,” Mav agreed.

“And when the time is right, we’ll catch that nigga off guard and it’s over for him,” Dodge added.

“Or we can just go and light his ass up right now,” Mav stated, changing his tone fast as shit.

I just stared at him. “Nah, I wanna burn him alive.” I smirked.

The room got quiet for a moment.

“Fuck it. Let’s get it poppin’ then,” Mav stated excitedly.

I had no plans of leaving the house for the rest of the day but shit always popped up and I just had to go with the flow.

The first thing that popped into my head was how Daija was going to catch a fit once she heard I had to leave out.

She not only pushed to have more quality time with me but also for me to get more rest. While I would feel bad sometimes, other times I remembered telling her from the beginning that I was a very busy man with a demanding career.

The guys stayed for another hour as we chopped it up about business.

When they finally dispersed, I returned to the bedroom and cuddled up with Daija.

I still had another hour before heading to the funeral home.

There were some employees still on the clock, so I had to wait until the place was clear.

“What was so important they had to show up at the house like that?” she questioned as I rubbed my dick on her ass.

I kissed the nape of her neck. “Chill, baby. They’re gone now,” I tried to brush off her question.

Daija sucked her teeth, and I could’ve bet my last dollar she rolled her eyes in the back of her head.

To ease the tension and shift the energy, I started to caress her body from her thighs up to her breasts while kissing her neck. Once I heard a soft moan escape, I knew I had her.

Flipping her over onto her back, I slipped off her panties, then parted her legs so I could position my face between her thighs. Inhaling her scent, I felt my dick brick up instantly.

Daija placed her hand on top of my head, letting me know she was ready for me to be the eater that I was. I licked her lips, then parted them with my tongue.

“Baby,” she moaned out.

I blew on her clit before latching onto it. As I sucked her button, my hands roamed her body with a firm touch. On instinct, Daija started to grind her pussy against my face, moving her hips in a circular motion while pushing my head deep between her legs.

Plunging my tongue into her hole, she sped up her attack on my mouth. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I was the one fucking her or if she was fucking me. My main thing was, she was experiencing pleasure, and that’s all I wanted to do — please her.

“Oh fuck. I’m ‘boutta cum,” she cried.

I came up for air for one second. “Let me taste you,” I demanded.

A few more licks and sucks later, Daija’s legs started to tremble as her body jerked. Her grip on my head intensified as she came all in my mouth and all over my beard.

“Ughhh,” she moaned out. “Damn.”

Licking my lips and savoring her juices, I then gave her a deep kiss so she could taste herself.

I finally pulled back to look at her. She dropped onto the pillow with her chest rising and falling as she breathed hard.

“I gotta dip. I’ll be right back, though,” I informed her.

Daija quickly jumped up. “Seriously?” she quizzed.

Instead of answering her, I just went into the bathroom to handle my hygiene before getting ready to step out. I knew she was pissed, but she’d eventually get over it.

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge into lower Manhattan, I peeped that the place was still semi-busy for a Thursday night at nine-thirty p.m. Marcano Funeral Home wasn’t far from the bridge, so before I knew it, I was pulling into the garage and hopping out of my Benz.

I observed my surroundings as I watched the garage gate close.

Once it was all secured, I made my way inside.

The place was quiet, still, and cold. Usually, I would’ve heard my footsteps echoing down the hallway as I walked. However, I didn’t have one of my high-priced designer leather shoes on. I had on some Jordans that night.

Making my way into the morgue, I searched for the body I needed to locate. After a few seconds, my eyes landed on the number.

There you go , I thought.

The drawer screeched as I pulled it out toward me. There, a man’s body laid stiff as hell but peaceful. He was dressed in a cheap suit that no family members cared about. In fact, he had no family. The man in front of me was a John Doe.

Being the person I was, I had connections with a lot of hospital morgue workers.

I would always get them to sign over the unclaimed bodies to my funeral home.

Using my brain, I developed a special program for unclaimed bodies, offering free funerals and cremations.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the bodies were used as our safe house, where we kept our drugs safe and secure.

“Alexa, play ‘Great Gatsby’ by Rod Wave,” I requested.

The song immediately blared through the surround sound system I had installed. I positioned my guy under the light, right where he belonged, then I began to prep myself by putting on latex gloves, my apron, and a mask. The proper tools were already lined up on my tray next to the metal table.

I quickly undressed him enough to reach where I needed to. Once his abdomen was exposed, I grabbed the scalpel and traced along the sutures until they were all undone. The flesh opened easily and neatly, like the body knew its purpose wasn’t finished just yet.

Spreading the skin and flesh aside, I pulled out three perfectly plastic-wrapped bricks from his stomach.

The product still smelled strong through the layers, letting me know they were pure and still fresh.

Wiping them off, I set them down inside a duffel bag, then proceeded to stitch him back up and redress him.

Giving him a once-over, I smoothed his jacket to make sure he looked good and not out of place.

I was told I treated the dead better than the living sometimes.

As I was placing him back into the drawer, my trap phone rang. I looked and saw it was Dave calling. Instead of answering, I called him back on the secure line I had in the home.

“Who this?” he answered arrogantly.

I took a deep breath in and let it out. “Come by the garage,” I simply instructed.

“Oh, this Milan. Aight, I’m coming,” he stated, all hyper.

If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed the muthafucker was working for the law the way he just name-dropped on the phone.

I brushed it off and looked at the camera before opening the gate for him. Once I saw that he was inside, I closed the gate shut and went to meet him by the door.

“Big homie,” Dave exclaimed as he approached me.

I gave him a quick dap and then led the way inside.

“I can’t believe you really like fuckin’ wit’ dead people and shit. Niggas like you muthafuckers gotta be scared of,” he stated.

You’re right about one thing , I thought to myself and chuckled.

Without saying a word, I lifted the bag onto the table, unzipped it halfway to show him the contents. “It’s three in there. That’s for your team. Make shit happen,” I ordered.

His eyes lit up as he nodded with a smirk. “So this is where the work’s at?” he asked, looking around.

“Nah, nigga. I just happened to bring this shit here today when I got called in for an emergency,” I threw him off.

There was no way in hell I was giving that vital information. I would’ve then had to worry about opps pulling up or the law bussing down my doors. I just needed him to feel we trusted him a little more.

“You good with this?” I questioned.

I gave him more than usual, so I wanted to confirm he could handle it. Besides the quantity, I never handed Dave shit in his hands. Dodge or Tave would do the drops.

“Yeah. I can move ‘em easy. I got the trap on Gates hungry as hell right now.” He grinned, licking his lips. “Ain’t nobody putting in work like me, big homie. Maverick sees it too.”

I leaned back against the cold wall with my arms crossed, studying him.

He didn’t know I had already heard about the skimming and about him planting seeds with some of the young niggas about trying to take over my shit.

He thought he was slick, but the streets didn’t hide betrayal for long.

Maverick always said I was too patient. Maybe he was right, but patience was the only thing that made a man dangerous, and that I was.

“Hold it down, then,” I told him.

Dave smirked as he grabbed the bag of bricks in his hand.

Without saying another word, he turned to leave with a confident strut.

As I eyed him closely, his demeanor told me everything.

Dave thought that night was the first step to a seat at our table, but little did he know it was actually a dead end with no exit for him.

I looked at the camera as he drove out of the garage. I quickly shut the gate behind him.

As I was getting ready to leave, my business phone rang.

“Steven,” I answered.

“Marcano, what’s good? I need a favor,” he spoke urgently.

Steven was a funeral director and an associate of mine. We usually did favors for each other in the funeral industry. There were times my home was filled with no place to put a body and vice versa, so we’d store bodies for each other, amongst other favors.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m at capacity. Can I send over two? But I need one of them done as soon as possible.”

I held the bridge of my nose. “Aight, send them. I’m here,” I gave in.

“Good lookin’ man. I owe you.”

As soon as I hung up, I shot Daija a text.

Me: Sorry, baby. I’ll be late. Don’t wait up. Love you.

This shit is never-ending.