DEEPLY ROOTED #2
Turning slightly in his seat, Bull glanced over his shoulder, only to find a petite woman in an all-black pants suit and matching heels trotting down the aisle.
Silk press hair swept to one shoulder with a side part, not a strand out of place, baby was gorgeous.
Something was off with her face, though, like she was hiding behind all the foundation she applied.
With each step toward the casket, she hesitated, eyes misting and ready to drop genuine tears.
Although she was modest in the ensemble, it was hard for him not to peep that she was stacked from the way her back arched in the blazer.
Immediately, she piqued his curiosity. Other than his mother and a few select distant relatives, most of the women here were all dressed like they were going to a party rather than a homegoing service.
He expected nothing less. Bronx lived the fast life and was known to be the life of the party wherever he went.
The viewing was about an hour ago, so little mama was late as fuck.
Fancy’s whimpering suddenly stopped when she paused at Bronx’s casket and froze. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder and sniffled when the woman kneeled and kissed Bronx’s forehead. It was a small gesture, but immediately, Fancy jumped up.
“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded, sending a wave of gasps over the church before the crowd chattered amongst each other in raised whispers.
Face crumpled in pain, Toni swung around and pressed a hand against her stomach, holding down the urge to vomit from the sight of Bronx in the casket.
“Fancy.” Brenda joined her on her feet and reached for her wrist.
“No!” Fancy snatched away from her. “I asked her a question, and I want a fucking answer!” she hissed.
“I—” Toni opened her mouth but wasn’t sure what to even say while Fancy chomped at the bit.
She was waiting for her to say something so she could rock her.
“You what? Who the fuck are you! I’ve never seen you before. So why are you here, and why are you sitting here, kissing my man like he meant something to you?” Fury sparked behind her gaze.
Braxton grunted, suddenly on his feet. Towering over the woman as if she were an ant, his dark glower alarmed her. His haunting stare said that he knew things, had seen things, and had every intention of taking them to his grave. When he spoke, his lips and face barely moved.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled.
“I waited as long as I could!” she voiced in a tiny whisper. “You can’t expect me not to want to say goodbye. You wouldn’t even let me see him.”
“Who the fuck is she!” Fancy lunged past Brenda, ready to claw her eyes out.
Every alarm telling her some shit was foul sounded off.
This wasn’t just some bitch chasing clout.
From her soft brown eyes to the flow of her walnut brown hair, Fancy knew this woman was more than that.
If she had enough audacity to walk in here thinking she wouldn’t be noticed, she had another thing coming.
Everyone knew Franchesca Jackson as Bronx’s one and only, but the streets talked.
Bronx wasn’t some monogamous saint, and he was about as loyal to Fancy as his options.
Although she was one of the most sought-after women in the city, Bronx was a man with a large appetite for pussy.
Fancy was who he thought he wanted to spend his life with, before Toni.
Neither of them kept him from entertaining other women, especially if they were offering themselves to him.
Half the women in here could identify his curved dick in a lineup.
One thing was for certain: they all knew their role, because not one of them stepped incorrectly to Fancy or acted a fool over his corpse.
He never openly disrespected by flaunting bitches around her, but she’d heard stories.
The evidence was scarce because he was smart in how he moved around her.
She knew he had two phones, but he was a man about his paper if nothing else, so she figured one was for business and the other was personal.
Priding herself on never going through his phone, she wished like hell in this moment she had.
Her mother always told her not to go looking for trouble because she would more than likely find more than she bargained for.
She said if she wanted a happy relationship, then let the man cheat in peace.
If he took care of her needs and showed respect, it didn’t matter what he did outside of that. True parenting right there.
Her parents seemed blissfully happy. She watched her daddy shower her mama with gifts and flowers regularly.
Bronx used to do the same thing or throw her a few stacks to take herself shopping.
He was the kind of man she always wanted.
Where he was sexy with a ruggedness, he was also gentle and could please her body in ways she’d never known.
He was her first, so he made himself fluent on her, and she knew another man would never be able to rock her the way he did. Bronx was truly one of a kind.
“Fancy, I need you to take your seat and be quiet.” Braxton faced her, keeping his back to the other woman. “You are disrespecting my son’s homegoing service.”
He didn’t want to draw any further attention to them. His family was already infamous in Prospect Pointe. There was plenty for this town to gossip about without adding this sideshow to the program.
“He was my fiancé. My everything!” she hissed, aiming one of her long, almond shaped acrylics at her chest.
“Which is why you are seated in the front row with the rest of us, but if you keep showing your ass like this, I will have you put out,” Braxton made clear.
Looking into his stern face, Fancy’s eyes flickered, blinking back more tears and shooting a stabbing glare at Toni.
Posted on the furthest end of the pew, Bull studied his father when he pivoted toward the chick at the casket and snatched her up by her arm.
Brenda tugged Fancy back to their seats, but she was reluctant and wouldn’t take her eyes off Braxton and Toni as they moved toward the exit.
“Who the hell was that, Brenda?” Fancy swung around on Bronx’s mother, ready to go toe to toe with her too.
Bronx was cold and gone, but she wasn’t here for embarrassment, even in death. He damn sure had her fucked up! It was obvious his parents were privy to something she wasn’t.
“This is not the time nor place, Fancy. If you loved Bronx, you have to love all of him. Good and bad,” Bull heard his mother recite before she patted the spot beside her so Fancy could join her again.
His curiosity was piqued, but as his mother stated, this wasn’t the right time.
He would address it once his brother was properly buried.
Bronx was a complicated man. He was impulsive, hot-headed, and irresponsible.
At the end of the day, Bull loved him. Blood was blood.
It was what he’d always been taught. Family over everything.
Funny how his people shared that notion, but behind closed doors, they were anything but the picture of unity.
His mother drank like a lush and snorted cocaine, and his father was one of the most ruthless men he knew.
It was no wonder Bull and Bronx turned into the savages they were.
In their home, you showed no weakness. He’d never even seen his mother cry.
With his hands clasped together in his lap, Bull listened as the pastor resumed his eulogy.
The service was ending, and he approached to get one last glimpse of Bronx in the casket before it was closed.
Brenda led Fancy through the crowd so she could find her parents.
Remaining near the cushion lined box, Bull soaked in the photo of his brother, smiling at him like he always did.
It was crazy to think of a world without him in it.
In the last two years, he’d only seen him once or twice, but they talked on the phone every couple of weeks.
Bull had his own operation in LA and distanced himself from his family for his own reasons.
Known notoriously for pulling off some of the most impossible heists, the Andrews family name rang bells in the streets.
Braxton wasn’t trying to grow beyond that.
When they pulled off one job, he typically had another one with even more risk lined up right behind it.
Although exhilarating, Bull didn’t see the need to continuously put themselves in that position.
With the money they were making, they could easily invest in legit establishments and live comfortably.
After doing a five-year bid, he stuck around as long as he could but couldn’t stop butting heads with Braxton over the direction he wanted to go.
Not only the muscle in the crew, but also the safecracker, Bull took his skills to California and started his own locksmith agency.
He still did odd jobs on the side, but there were levels to it, something that Braxton could never quite grasp.
All money wasn’t worth it in Bull’s eyes.
“Bull.” His father’s voice jarred his attention over his shoulder.
A couple of his uncles and cousins gathered around the casket.
Since they were all pallbearers, it was time to walk Bronx out to the hearse.
Grabbing one of the handles beside his father, Bull helped lift it off the platform as they formed a path through the middle aisle to the open doors waiting on the opposite side of the church.
When they got outside, bitches were lined up in packs, bawling their eyes out.
You could barely see through the slew of people on the overcrowded street.
Even the rooftops were covered with cheering, clapping, and motherfuckers holding up RIP signs.
His brother was a street legend, and everyone admired him.
The type of life he lived played out like a rap song, and people glamorized it.