16. Funeral Music
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FUNERAL MUSIC
Seated in Moose’s bedroom at a window overlooking his yard with Elan at her feet, Inari studied the trees as the rain turned to snow and fell lightly.
There was a fire going in the fireplace, and the TV mounted above it was on the Roku menu.
She had the urge to call Dane and check on him.
Ever since the Christmas party, there was tension.
He wasn’t staying at the house with her, but she checked in at the school and knew he was at least attending and still doing his work.
She hated the distance. This was the first time they’d ever been apart this long.
He’d talk to her on the phone, but the conversations were short.
Thanks to Danilo, he was shutting her out, and that hurt like hell.
“You hungry? I was thinking about wings and fries from the Shack with some of those jalapeno bombers you like,” Moose said from the bed.
Stretched out with his feet rubbing together, he scrolled his phone with one arm behind his head.
“Nari!” His voice cut into her thoughts. She looked up from Dane’s contact info in her lap.
“Huh? Did you say something?” she queried, brows wrinkling into a frown.
“I was asking if you was hungry. I was going to run and grab some blunts and something from the Shack.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” she agreed, shaking her head and looking back down at her phone.
Moose climbed off the bed and grabbed his Timbs from the doorway to slip into.
He didn’t care that he was rocking sweats and a Lakers jersey with Kobe’s number.
She’d been in her feelings about the whole Dane and Danilo situation for weeks.
Even when he tried to get her to relax in Hawaii, it was like she wasn’t fully present.
She wanted to be for Coast, though, so she put her own shit to the side.
Grabbing a hoodie, Moose pulled it over his head before moving toward her.
Elan picked his head up and studied him.
His big ass acted like Inari was his mama the way he was always up under her when she came over.
She sure as hell talked to him like a damn baby.
He got all childlike when she had to leave, too, and would wait at the door for hours hoping she would come back.
“Why don’t you call him? You know you want to. Tell him you checking in. You can even invite him over. Maybe we can have dinner or something.”
Moose knelt in front of her and rested a hand on her thigh. She’d showered and changed into a black silk nightgown and matching robe, sipping merlot from a wine glass.
“I want him to want to call me,” she pouted, looking down into Moose’s handsome face.
“He used to call and text me all the time. Stupid shit, random shit. Pictures of him and his friends doing dumb shit. They would come over and invade my refrigerator and lounge around my house, funk up my basement playing on the foosball and table hockey while talking shit on their headsets with that damn PS5. How did we go from that to him not even checking on me?” She hated the tears that stung her eyes, but she loathed Danilo even more for turning her only child against her.
“He’ll come around,” Moose assured her.
“How do you know that?” She swiped a tear that had slipped and sniffled. “Danilo got him a car. He can pretty much do whatever he wants with him and Mira. He’s not going to want to leave that to come home to me and my rules.”
Moose leaned closer to embrace her. Inari allowed his warm arms to comfort her as she silently cried.
A faint scent took her away from the moment when she inhaled.
Clean soap and his cologne. Not smothering, just enough to blend with his natural man scent.
Her body reacted before her mind could and pulled back slightly. Moose noticed her go rigid.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head.
It was far from nothing. Whatever it was rattled all her senses, leaving her stomach knotted up.
She searched his eyes, eyes that she thought she knew as they bounced around hers curiously.
When Inari recognized it, her stomach might as well have gone hollow.
She wanted to throw up the wine that had settled there over the last forty-five minutes.
Moose stood but leaned in to peck her lips gently.
“I don’t want you to think I dropped the ball on this.
I got pieces in place, just taking a little time to work through some of the red tape.
I’m not about to allow either of them to use your sister or your son against you.
That’s my word.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and Inari nodded but remained silent.
“I’ll be back in a few. Text me if you need anything else. ”
He padded to the door, and she stared after him with a shaky breath while the rest of her trembled.
“It can’t fucking be,” she whispered, listening to him stomp down the stairs.
Finally, his car started in the garage, and Moose pulled off, leaving Inari and her thoughts spiraling in disbelief.
“Yo, let me get two of the ten-piece wing combos. One hot buffalo and the other sweet and spicy. I want the sweet tea and a Sprite for the drinks.” Moose leaned against the counter in Snack Shack, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter.
The Shack was one of few spots in Ree Heights that never changed.
Grease stained counter, a flickering menu board with a neon sign buzzing behind it like it was tired of being alive.
Yet everyone came back every day. The kid behind the counter nodded after typing everything at the register and gave him his receipt with his order number to hold when he was done.
Moose backed up for the next person to place their order and checked his phone.
Inari was being weird when he left, and he wasn’t sure what that was about.
He knew he should have just ordered in, though, as he peered around at the crowded space.
Exhaling, he ran a hand over his face. Lately, he’d been restless and unable to sit still.
The coke didn’t help to quiet his head either.
He thought the Hawaii trip would reset things with Inari, and while he was closing in on Mira and Danilo, even he didn’t think it was fast enough.
He was growing impatient. The more Inari stressed over Dane and Danilo’s growing influence over him, the harder things were for him.
Out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention in a far corner.
Ayla posted up with a fountain cup in her hand, scrolling her phone.
He was about to chop it up with her when the bell above the door jingled.
Moose didn’t look up at first, but after a moment, a familiar voice stilled him. Tulla.
It didn’t take long for her to spot him. Stopping mid-step, for a moment something flickered across her face. It wasn’t surprise, more like blind panic before it was gone and replaced with composure.
“Ain’t this a bitch,” Moose muttered under his breath, slowly straightening up.
“Well, if it ain’t Ree Heights finest slumming it.”
Tulla exhaled through her nose, stepping further inside.
Moose’s gaze instantly shifted to the man stepping in behind her.
Clean cut, confident. The type of nigga who belonged in conference rooms, not places like this.
Beside him was a little girl. Eight, maybe, with caramel skin and curly hair pulled into a puff.
Her bright eyes scanned everything with curiosity. Moose’s gaze lingered over her.
“Morgan.” Tulla finally spoke.
It was inevitable since he was still lingering at the counter, waiting on his order.
“What’s up?” Moose chucked his chin at them.
“Christian Hayes.” The man stepped forward with an extended hand. “How do you know my wife?”
Moose looked at his hand first, then up into his eyes.
He had no intention of shaking the nigga’s hand.
Christian, a state prosecutor already knew exactly who he was.
It was his job to know every major player in the city, and the Blackmoors were at the top of the list. Tiara stepped forward slightly, peeking around her father.
She looked right at Moose. There was nothing shy or fearful about her demeanor.
If anything, she was more so intrigued. Looking into her eyes, he felt that same tug.
“You look like me,” she said, tilting her head.
Her words hit the air like something had dropped, causing Tulla to stiffen. Her husband quickly glanced in her direction but couldn’t read her poker face. Moose froze before pinching the tip of his nose, brushing it off.
“Do I?”
Tiara nodded, serious. “Your eyes.” She pointed at him.
His smile faded a little as he acknowledged the statement. Now that she’d said it, he couldn’t help but see it. The shape, color, and even the intensity of her rich, brandy brown orbs were familiar. His chest tightened, but before he could utter another word, Tulla stepped in.
“Tiara, let’s go find a table,” she said a little too sharp.
Although she frowned up at her mother, Tiara listened, and they moved toward a booth.
Christian remained at the counter to place their order, sizing Moose up the whole time.
He knew who he was, but he wanted to know what the hell was up between him and his wife.
Eyes never leaving Tulla or Tiara at the table they’d claimed, Moose did the math.
Something wasn’t adding up, or maybe it was.
“Is there a problem with you and my wife?” Christian stepped closer, subtle, but with intent.
He was territorial for one and didn’t like the vibe between Moose and Tulla. Turning his head, Moose raked his hooded eyes over his square ass appearance. Now wasn’t the time nor place for this. Shaking his head, he finally spoke.
“Nah. No problem.”