Dominic Royal
Funeral Day
Song of Scene: On They Ass
Istood in front of the mirror while Carmen fixed the collar on my shirt.
My suit was straight black Tom Ford, the custom cut kind that fit like it was made just to fit my body.
I had on a black silk tie, black Cartier shades, and black Louboutin’s.
My heavy Cuban link rested on my chest, showing off the platinum and was solid enough to make a statement without me ever having to open my mouth.
My eyes shifted scanned Carmen’s body from head to toe.
She was in all black too, because today wasn’t a day of loud colors or neutral for that matter.
Her dress hugged her body the way it was supposed to and made my dick jump.
It was smooth fabric with long sleeves, a high neckline, and a slit that slightly shifted up when she walked.
Her hair was pinned up in a clean bun, and she left some tresses hanging, around her small diamond studded earrings.
She looked expensive and yet dangerous at the same time although there wasn’t shit masculine about her.
Exactly what I needed on my hip… the kind of woman who could bring a man peace or pull a trigger for him if she had to.
“You ready?” she asked quietly.
“I was born ready,” I said, sliding on my Richard Mille; it was all black ceramic with a skeleton face, it was a limited edition and the one most people would probably only see in a picture because it wasn’t in the store.
Me and Carmen made it downstairs where shit just felt different.
The first thing you noticed was the line of vehicles…
four Escalades, two Maybachs, one Rolls Royce Cullinan, and my personal car that I didn’t like to drive too much; a black Bentley Flying Spur that looked like the president himself would be behind the tints.
The cars were lined bumper to bumper, all freshly detailed, all tinted dark enough to be illegal.
Royal Enterprises logos were discreetly stamped on every license plate.
We moved as a unit like we always did. Tone was in a tailored black Versace suit with a chain half tucked, his shoes were glossy, and he had a killer look on his face.
Dique had on a Givenchy two piece and didn’t look like he was in the mood for jokes today, with cold eyes.
O’Shynn showed up in a black silk blouse, a fitted pencil skirt, and Red Bottom stilettos that looked like they cost half a paycheck.
Even in mourning, she carried herself like money.
All my people were in suits. Today no jeans, and sneakers were allowed.
You could tell who we were just by the power that followed us.
The Royal security detail was tripled today.
Two trucks up front, two behind, each loaded with men in black.
Every chopper and rifle were licensed under shell companies tied back to us.
Carmen slid her arm through mine, with her eyes steady. Nobody said a word when we passed by. Tone opened the Bentley door for her, and I got in after. When the line started moving, the sound was beautiful as the Hemi engines roared. The sky was gray today.
As we pulled out, the city started to watch.
People on sidewalks stopped what they were doing.
Men at corner stores took their hats off.
Mothers pulled their kids closer to them.
They didn’t need to know who we were because the energy told them and those who knew…
just knew. The Rolls-Royce led the way that carried Miss Twyla and Ramon’s sisters.
The Maybachs behind held the rest of the family and each one was chauffeured by one of our people.
The Escalades boxed them in, in a tight formation, to keep eyes on every block.
We passed Biscayne Boulevard slowly passing by the high rises.
A few news cameras followed from the corners, too scared to step close but was thirsty enough to zoom in.
Carmen looked out the window the whole time, sitting quiet with her fingers resting on her lap as her diamond ring caught the faint light.
Tone’s voice came through the encrypted line. “We five minutes out, bro. The church is secured and all the back streets clean. We got extra cars sitting off the lot just in case.” He informed me.
“Good,” I said. “Tell them to keep it tight just in case somebody got brave today.”
“Fasho.”
As the church came into view, the procession slowed down.
King Jesus Ministry was one of the biggest. The parking lot was lined with people already waiting along with a lot of Ramon’s old crew before he was initiated into the Cartel.
It was neighborhood faces, even a few from other cities because he was well known and so was his affiliation.
Nobody came empty handed and just like the announcement that went out, everybody wore black.
The trucks parked one by one, sitting quiet and clean.
I stepped out first, and Carmen got out next with her heels clicking softly against the pavement.
The sight of her walking beside me turned heads, but nobody said a word.
Instead, they just watched. Dique, Tone, and O’Shynn joined us.
The rest of the crew scattered out in formation, watching every angle.
The black umbrellas opened even though it hadn’t started raining yet.
The first drops hit a few seconds later.
It was like the city itself was paying its respects.
Miss Twyla stepped out of the Rolls Royce with her eyes red but steady. O’Shynn rushed to her side, and I followed behind with Carmen. The old woman reached for my hand, squeezing tight. “Thank you for doing this right, baby. My boy is gone but he went out surrounded by love.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said softly. “We gon’ carry him the rest of the way.”
She nodded, and I could feel her shaking a little.
The pallbearers were lined up at the back, six of our strongest people, with black gloves, black shades, and their heads bowed.
Meanwhile, Carmen stood close to me, alert behind those shades.
I could feel her watching everything on down to how the streets were now still, as well as how our people stayed locked in, and how nobody dared to pull their phones out trying to sneak pictures.
This wasn’t just a funeral; it was a demonstration of power.
The rain started to pick up, slow at first, and then steady, coming down hard.
I looked down at Miss Twyla, then up at the church steps, and finally at my people.
This was how loyalty looked even during grief, and we never turned our backs on one of our own.
We were about to send one of ours home, and the world was about to be reminded who we were.
The doors to King Jesus Ministry opened slowly, with the hinges squeaking from the weight.
Inside, it smelled like a mixture of cologne, perfume, and that floral smell from all the white lilies and black roses.
We got black roses specifically because it was okay for gangstas to cry.
They were crowding the front near the casket with ribbons.
Every light was dim except for the ones reflecting off the stained glass that painted the walls in soft colors.
You could hear the choir before you saw them.
They were twelve deep, all in black robes with gold trim, humming low over the organ keys tunes of ‘Take Me To The King’.
It was that deep southern kind of humming too that came from the gut and made even men close their eyes and women in the middle pews rock side to side.
The black casket with silver edges lined with white satin sat open at the front.
Ramon looked peaceful, like he’d gone out knowing his mission was complete.
They had him in a suit I paid for, which was black with a silver tie. He had a clean haircut clean as well.
I walked Carmen up the aisle as Miss Twyla held onto O’Shynn’s hand, trying not to break again.
We sat on the front row, the one reserved for family, and that’s exactly what we were.
Carmen sat to my right, with her legs crossed, and head slightly bowed, with her hand resting close to mine.
O’Shynn was on the other side of Miss Twyla, whispering to her every few minutes, rubbing her shoulder like she was trying to keep her from falling apart and I appreciated that.
Behind us the rest of the church was filled with old heads who knew Ramon from the block, and girls who used to fuck him or wanted him to whenever he passed through on the block along with soldiers who ran beside him when he was running in the streets.
Even niggas from other crews who knew better than to start anything today were here paying respects.
Tone and Dique didn’t sit up front with us.
They posted further back watching every corner.
Tone sat by the aisle, with his eyes moving slow, around the exits, the ushers, and every crack or corner near the choir.
Dique leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, quiet but ready.
Their presence alone was enough to remind anyone thinking about doing something stupid that today wasn’t the day.
Outside, the rest of our people surrounded the building.
They blended in with the crowd but their hands stayed close to their sides so they could move quick.
Nobody was gon’ pull up here and walk out breathing if they tried anything.
The pastor stepped to the pulpit. He was an old black man in a tailored suit with a handkerchief folded in his pocket.
His voice carried through the mic and to me all black pastors’ voices sounded the exact same.
“We are gathered here to celebrate the life of a young man taken too soon. A son, a brother, a soldier.”
As he spoke, the choir started singing ‘His Eye Is on the Sparrow’, but they sang the slow, drawn-out version.
Miss Twyla started crying again, and it was quiet at first, then it turned into that soft, steady weeping only a mother could have that came from the pits of her soul.
Carmen reached over and handed her a tissue and then placed her hand lightly over hers while her daughters tried to console her as well.
The whole time, I kept my eyes forward and jaws tight, trying not to let the sound of that song get to me.
The pastor started talking about peace, and about the fight between good and evil…
about how sometimes God calls his soldiers home early.
I listened, but my mind was already somewhere else.
Every word he said about protection and loyalty hit different because Ramon had died doing exactly that, protecting our name.
Every so often the choir would elevate their voices again, and it felt like the whole building shook when they did it.
Women fanned themselves with the printed programs that had Ramon’s face smiling on the front.
Other people nodded their heads up and down with red eyes.
I leaned back a little and scanned the crowd.
Every pew was filled. Half of Miami must’ve come through.
The back doors were lined with security I recognized, ours and a few friendly faces from crews who knew how to move right to be in our presence.
Nobody was tense, but everybody was aware.
The ushers in white gloves passed down the aisles, offering tissues, fans, and water.
Carmen leaned over and spoke to me. “You can feel it in here.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah,” I muttered. “He was loved.”
Her eyes moved toward the casket, and she whispered something under her breath, that looked like it was probably a prayer.
Her fingers brushed across mine for a second before she straightened up again catching herself from folding too deep into it.
Miss Twyla’s shoulders started shaking, and O’Shynn pulled her close, whispering something low in her ear.
Tone caught my eye from across the room and gave me a small nod letting me know it was all good.
The pastor looked out at the crowd again and said, “When a man gives his life standing for what he believes in, heaven takes note. Ramon stood for something. He loved his people. He loved his family. And that kind of love don’t die.”
A few people shouted “Amen” from the back. The choir started humming again, even louder this time, with their voices elevating higher with every note until everything just felt like grief.
The pastor’s voice faded into another song.
The choir stood to sing again, this time ‘I’ll Fly Away’, the upbeat version, the one that made people clap while crying is the one they sung.
Peoples’ hands flew up, and voices broke in the middle of verses as they began to shout or speak in tongue, and the sound of the drums kicked in too.
Carmen’s head tilted slightly to the side and her lips barely moving as she sang along under her breath.
For a second, it didn’t feel like a funeral. It started to feel like a celebration.
Every soldier in that church sat straight, heads high, eyes forward.
Not one tear fell from them, but I could feel the weight in the room.
We weren’t just burying Ramon. We were burying peace.
And even though the choir was singing about flying away, my mind was already turning back to the ground.
Because after today, we weren’t done and right now, you could call it the King’s intuition, but I felt it in my chest… we had company.