12

I HATE FUNERALS

It's not because they make me sad or anything. I don't think I've felt sad during a funeral since my mother's and after going to so many throughout my life I think the depressing feeling had left my body long before I could understand it. So, I'm never really sad at funerals, not even for ones for my men, people who swore under an oath to work for me and died for me. It sounds less like an asshole thing to say in my head but it's the truth — my truth.

The young recruit who died the other day on the table in front of me after getting ambushed trying to get cargo was someone I didn't know all too well. He was young and that's pretty much all I knew about him, but he seemed to be very loved by his family and friends. His burial was held in Jersey, somewhere close to home. Me, my dad and Maurice all watched from afar as his family laid him to rest. The woman who I assumed to be his mother cried out aloud as her people held her tight so she wouldn't jump into the grave with the boy as the gravediggers lowered him in.

The gloomy weather is almost too fitting for the moment. The rain soaked everything it touched, the grass, the tombstones, and his mother's makeup causing the black mascara to run down her face so heavily it looked like blackened tears were coming from her eyes. I looked over at Maurice under his umbrella watching with a stiffened face. My father is the same beside me, even behind his darkened shades I know there's a stone-cold expression behind them and as his son, I match it.

The burial goes on for a while until the only people left in the graveyard are the mother, and a woman who resembles her a bit who I'm guessing is her sister or someone like that. She held on to her so tight, head shaking and tears steadily streaming. When we finally make our way over she's in too much distress to notice our presence at first but once the other woman looks up at us the mother soon follows her stare.

My father is the first to speak. "Our condolences," he reaches out to the woman extending a hand, she stares at him for a moment, her eyes bouncing between his face and his hand. She accepts his hand after a while. Maurice places down a bouquet of red freedom roses on the black casket beside us. I hand the woman an envelope and a brown paper bag which she takes cautiously. She and her sister exchange glances.

"Who are you?" she asks.

My father just sends her a small smile, tilting her black hat at the woman before turning around and making his way back to the car where the driver waited for us. Maurice and I follow behind him. I can hear the woman opening up the bag behind us followed by a loud shriek. I peek behind me to see the woman had fallen to the ground, hands full with the stacks of cash in the bag I handed her — $150k to be exact. It only seemed to make her cry more.

••••

Later into the night, we found ourselves at the warehouse. The second we walked in I could hear the sounds of punches and kicks being thrown echoing off the walls and ceiling of the place. We get closer to the scene and see my men still interrogating that man we kept alive after he and his friends stole our cargo. It's been a few days since the incident and he still hasn't said a thing despite the constant beatings. He's tied up in a chair, legs, and hands bound by wires tied so tight they cut into his skin. He's a bloody mess. His face was so blackened and blue I could barely recognize him anymore and yet he still hasn't talked.

"Who do you work for?" One of my men asked before landing another punch to the jaw, blood from the man's mouth splattering against the ground in front of him. When he lifts his head there's a slight grin to busted lips, the remaining teeth in his mouth coated in the crimson color of blood. He begins to laugh under his breath only earning himself another fist to the cheek.

"Is that him?" My father voices from beside me as we walk closer to the integration. With him being on bed rest for the last couple of months he hasn't had time to get involved in anything that couldn't take place over the phone but he insisted on seeing the son of a bitch brave enough to steal from him and if there's anything I know about my father it's that there is nothing that can steer him away from doing something he wanted to do. Not even my mother could talk him out of things most times. He's too stubborn for his own good.

"Yeah, that's him. He hasn't spoken a word since he was captured." Maurice informs him, long arms folding over his chest.

"Does he look familiar?" I turned to him and asked.

My father shakes his head at me, wrinkled hands stuffing into the pockets of his pants. "I've never seen him before but then again you always keep me locked away in the damn house so . . ." he shrugs his shoulders and I rolled my eyes at his smart mouth.

The man finally pulls in enough strength to hold up his head. He spits out the blood that stained his mouth, a tooth in the pool of crimson on the floor in front of him. His swollen blackened eyes looked up at me, a distasteful expression in them before he bounced them to Maurice with the same look — one that could probably burn a hole into someone's face but that's to be expected how else would you look at the person who killed your whole crew. It's only when he notices my father in front of him that his expression changes slightly. That look of pure enraged disgust was replaced by a sly smile that stretched wide across his crooked jawline.

"Y-you finally came," his voice is horsed and raspy, even with the amount of blood filling his mouth. He spits again. "the big bad Hezekiah himself." Everyone's a little too caught off guard to speak for a second, for a moment I even found myself a little taken aback but I quickly collected myself. My father doesn't say a word, his face completely stoned behind his darkened shades as he looks at the man. I throw the punch his way this time, letting my knuckles connect with his face so hard I can hear bone crunch underneath my skin.

"Who do you work for!?" I spat at him.

Blood dripped from the open wound in his lips that only grew larger after I landed the hit, but even then he still didn't answer me. He kept his eyes on my father. "The rumors are true huh? You're getting old. You ain't no killa no more just some sickly old man who's one missed dialysis appointment away from his death bed."

There's another punch and kick but the man doesn't seem to stop there, croaking out more words. "He's back you know? He's finally getting out and once he's out he's gonna burn you and all your men alive and take everything you have-" his words are cut short when a small blade pierces the skin of his throat. I'm startled at the sudden action and when I look to my right and see my father holding the handle of the blade I hold my position even tighter. The man froze up, bleeding out on himself from the fleshly sliced gash on his neck. He raised his hands to grab at the dagger in my father's hands but he's only knocking it around more, causing my father to lean in expanding his wound even more.

Blood flooded from his throat, and the man's pained attempts at breathing mutated into a visceral gargling noise. Seeing the bubbling blood, my father removed the blade from his throat with a quick jerk, a bit of blood splattering against the jacket of his suit. My father tosses the blade to the floor, before turning around and backing up away from the scene.

"He talks too much," was all he said as he shook away the blood that lingered on his fingertips.

Maurice and I exchanged a glance with one another. It's not too often my father gets his hands dirty let alone when he does it in front of me but when he does it's always messy and off-putting, even for me — someone who's seen death ten times over. He's a different person when he's mad, someone who even I wouldn't dare to tamper with. A true Bellerose to the core.

"Clean this mess up," I told the men, watching as they hurriedly picked up the bloody lifeless body in front of us.

"How would you like for us to dispose of it?"

"Burn it, throw it in the bottom of the ocean.  I don't care just get it out of my sight." I tell them before turning around to my father.

He removes the darkened shades from his face, face still stuck into an emotionless expression from before. He lifts his arms as two of the men come over and take his stained jacket off of him. "I'm gonna go sit in the car." he simply said, hands reaching into his pockets as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter.

Maurice made a face at him. "Sir, who was he talking about? Who's getting out?"

My father waves him off as he lights up the cigarette tucked in between his lips, taking a small drag once it's lit. "It's nothing just another dumb goon talking dumb goon nonsense. That's why I shut them up. I can't stand all that yapping. I'll be in the car when you boys are ready, okay?"

I narrowed my eyes at him as he walked out of the warehouse. I turn to Maurice to see him with the same perplexed look on his face. "He's hiding something," I say to him.

"You think?" Maurice replies sarcastically. "I've known your dad all my life and seen him do a lot of crazy shit but slicing a nigga neck with no words spoken is definitely top two."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the realization that he was hiding something from me. I know he doesn't really want me to get involved with his work but I've been doing it for years now and he still doesn't trust me enough. After all the shit I've done he still someone manages to hide stuff from me like I'm fucking Enzo or some damn kid.

"Uh-uh, they're gonna need so much bleach to clean these damn floors." Maurice lets out a groan shaking his head at the mess in front of him.

"That's what you're focused on right now?"

He kissed his teeth at me. "I mean what else is there to do? I don't know if you've noticed but your dad is not necessarily the kind of guy who spills out his secrets after a few cocktails. If he wants us to know he'll tell us eventually just be patient."

"I don't have any patience," I reply before making my way outside towards the car.  "And that will be your downfall." Maurice chimes from behind me as he follows.

••••

EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS