Page 8 of The Millionaire Mortician

T he engine purred low while I sat outside the spot in Tribeca, eyeing the storefront like I could already see it filled.

It had enormous windows, clean lines, and it was a corner property with heavy traffic.

That meant eyes, footwork, and a lot of money.

Daija sat in the passenger seat with her phone in her hand, but she wasn’t really doing anything on it.

She’d hopped in my whip while we waited for the realtor to arrive.

Randomly, she smirked. “You know Nadia’s gon’ ask why that blanket is in the trash bag, right?”

I couldn’t help the half-smile that crept out. “Tell her to throw it away and don’t ask questions.”

Daija laughed, covering her mouth and shaking her head like a schoolgirl.

Her cheeks flushed, and I knew exactly where her mind went.

She ain’t even want to give me the pussy the day before, said she felt uncomfortable, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I needed her at that moment. Period or not, that shit was mine to take.

I leaned back in the seat as everything replayed in my head. The taste, the fight she put up before giving in, and the way I pulled her closer like I was daring her to deny me. She finally gave in, though. She knew better.

Before either of us could sink deeper into our thoughts, the realtor pulled up in a black Benz and hopped out, heels clicking fast on the pavement.

“Ready?” Daija asked, all smiles.

I nodded. Killing the engine, I stepped out of the car and adjusted my suit. Quickly heading to Dai’s side, I opened the door for her. She double checked her car was locked, as I did mine, then we made our way inside the place.

Inside, the space stretched wide. It was high ceilings, exposed brick, and hardwood floors.

I walked slowly, checking the corners and peeking at the back where the plumbing was located.

My mind worked the same way it did when I walked a new trap or checked a body before it was buried — looking for weaknesses and hidden details.

“This is it,” I finally spoke with certainty.

Daija’s face lit up like the Fourth of July, damn near bouncing on her toes. That energy from her always hit differently. I gave her the green light, a head nod of approval.

The realtor jumped right into it. “So we can move forward with paperwork today?” she eagerly inquired.

Daija straightened, shifting from excited to serious within seconds. “Yeah, we can.” She looked at me. “While I plan to have Talina working side by side with me, when it comes to the official paperwork and bank accounts, Milan will be on it with me.”

I glanced at her, silent for a moment. Most men don’t get that honor. I wasn’t most men, though. She trusted me with everything, and I didn’t take that lightly.

“Say less,” I told the realtor. “We can handle that today. Now would be best, actually.”

She nodded with a bright smile and started to head for the exit.

We followed her to the office, which wasn’t that far away from the spot. Both Daija and I parked, then headed inside to get everything started. The realtor made a quick phone call to the property owner to finalize the deal, then printed out all the necessary paperwork.

After Daija signed, I signed where she pointed.

My name got stamped on every line that mattered.

Daija sat close to me, brushing her hand over my thigh under the table, whispering little jokes only I could hear.

I kept my face neutral, but inside I felt that weight.

She was tying herself to me in ways money couldn’t measure.

With everything squared away, we shook hands with the realtor and made our exit until the next time we had to meet.

Stepping outside onto the pavement, we watched our surroundings as usual before walking Daija to her car.

She got on her tiptoes and reached up for a kiss. “Thank you, baby.”

I just nodded. There wasn’t a need to say more. She knew what it was.

Once Daija was safely in her car, I slid back into my driver’s seat. As I started up my engine, my phone buzzed. It was Maverick.

Mav: Where you at?

Me: Heading to the funeral home.

His response came back before I had even placed the car in drive.

Mav: Nah, change route. Come to the dealership. M’s pulling up to meet with us.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then slipped the phone face down on the console. M meant Mallo, which was our plug. Whatever had him wanting to meet with us had to be important, especially if it was last-minute. Plus, I didn’t mind seeing him. I had some questions about his competitor.

Finally, putting the car in drive, I pulled away from the curb to make my way to Mav’s dealership.

As I crossed the Manhattan Bridge back into Brooklyn, I made my way toward the dealership. When I arrived, the gate automatically opened as soon as security recognized me. I parked, got out, and headed inside to find Mav.

Maverick’s office door was wide open. He was leaning back in his chair with his phone in one hand, wearing a calm grin. Whatever he was reading or looking at amused him.

“Yo,” I announced myself as I walked in the door.

He dropped his phone and stood up. “Bro,” he mentioned.

We dapped each other up with a firm slap and pull in.

“What’s the word? What was yo’ ass doin’?” Mav questioned as he sat back in his seat, and I plopped down on the couch.

“I was with Daija. She settled on a spot in Tribeca,” I informed him.

One thing I admired about her was that whatever she put her mind to, she was going to get it. We spoke about her returning to work only a week and some change before, and already we signed for her new place of business to get active.

He raised his brows. “She stamped it?”

“Facts. She’s locked all the way in. She even put me on the paperwork.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s big, bro. Real big. You gon’ use it to wash the funds or nah?”

“Nah, that’s all her,” I confirmed.

Before I could say more, the office door opened wider.

Mallo slid in with a fresh linen shirt, and his jewelry was light but loud enough if you knew what you were looking at.

Mallo was a mix of black and Hispanic. He had that permanent smoothness, the type that made people trust him even when they shouldn’t.

“My brothers,” he greeted, clapping his hands together, then dapping both of us up. “Every time I sit with y’all, I feel like the game is too easy. There’s no drama or bullshit, just business.”

I nodded once because compliments didn’t move me, but I heard him.

Maverick leaned forward on his desk. “If that’s the case, what’s good with you callin’ this meetin’ then?”

Mallo exhaled, looking between us. “It’s time to level up.

I’ve been thinking long term, and the truth is.

.. I’m moving to the West Coast, LA to be exact.

I’ve already started laying foundation there, which means my seat here — my position as the distributor for my Venezuelan connect — is gon’ be wide open. ”

He paused, letting the information sink in.

“You two are built for this. You already got the structure and the manpower. What you need now is a way in. The connect is gonna want to hear how you can bring the weight in quietly and keep it steady with no heat. Y’all figure out a plan, present it to him, and it’s yours.”

The room went still. My eyes met Maverick’s for a second, unspoken words passing like always.

We have spoken on many occasions about taking things to the next level, but, of course, it was all about timing.

Mallo had been good to us over the years, so we didn’t plan on going behind his back to do no shiesty shit.

I guess our patience was working out for us, because the opportunity literally just landed in our laps.

“We’ll think on it,” Maverick finally spoke.

Mallo nodded and was looking to leave, but my brother wasn’t finished with the meeting.

“What about Frost?” Maverick asked, leaning back in his chair like he was asking a casual question.

Mallo’s face shifted a little tighter. He reached into his phone, pulled up a picture, and slid it across the desk. Frost was a heavyset dude with pale skin and a cold stare. Tattoos crept up his neck like vines.

“That’s Frost,” Mallo pointed out. “Deadly and cold-blooded, but we never had problems ‘cause he stayed in his territory, and I stayed in mine. As long as nobody crosses lines, it’s always peace.”

Mallo stood, locking eyes with both of us. “Don’t get it twisted. He’s the type you only get one shot at if shit ever goes left. You miss, you’re done.”

Silence hung in the air for a while.

Mallo brushed his palms together. “Anyway... y’all sit with it. I’ll line the connect when you’re ready.”

He dapped us both up again and slid out of the office, leaving the weight of opportunity behind him.

Once the door was closed, it was just Maverick and me again. We both just looked at each other for a moment.

“What you thinkin’?” I inquired.

He shifted in his seat. “You already know what I’m thinkin’. We spoke on this shit how many times and for how long?” he expressed.

I nodded. “I know, I know.” I sat there staring into space for a minute. “Fuck it. Let’s get a game plan going then.”

Maverick smiled wide as hell as he rubbed his hands together like Birdman. I just laughed at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ma need a Benz truck,” I blurted out.

He looked at me sideways, chuckling. “For what? You got one.”

“It’s for Daija. I’ma give it to her for her grand opening as a congratulations gift.”

Maverick barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Nigga, you a sucker for love, I swear...”

I let the corner of my mouth twitch. “Maybe.”

He leaned over and pressed his intercom button. “Deyonna!”

Within seconds, his assistant, Deyonna, popped her head in quickly with a pad and pen ready.

“Handle a Benz truck order for my brother,” Maverick instructed her. “Fully loaded. It’s a gift for his lady.” She nodded, scribbled notes, and then disappeared again.

Maverick leaned back, still grinning at me. “Sucker for love ass nigga,” he repeated.