23

Maxine was making good progress, but her recovery was bittersweet with her mother’s passing. She cried and cried, but she knew she had to be strong to make funeral arrangements. Maxine wanted her mother to go out in style, and with Scott’s help, she would get her wish. So she prepared herself for a hardship moment of healing and grieving. At least she had Scott by her side to comfort her and help her with everything.

Before the funeral, Scott stood her before her mother’s casket, got down on one knee, and asked for Maxine’s hand in marriage. The huge engagement ring was an exquisite piece of jewelry, a glimmer of joy amid Maxine’s heartbreaking grief. Maxine accepted, but not before Scott could promise her mother that she could rest in peace knowing that he would always take care of her daughter.

The funeral was held at Southern Baptist Church on Stanley Avenue in East New York. Maxine remembered when her parents used to take her to church there every Sunday morning. Her mother used to sing in the choir and was active in the church activities and numerous community programs. Her mother steadily preached the gospel and salvation to her, but Maxine strayed away from the church and fell in love with a drug dealer and the lavish lifestyle he provided. She knew the choices she’d made in her life broke her parents’ hearts—especially her mother’s. Their little girl was supposed to be somebody in life, but instead, she became a convicted felon.

A few tears trickled from Maxine’s eyes as she gazed at her mother’s body in the solid walnut hardwood casket dressed beautifully in a blue-and-white dress. She looked so peaceful. Finally, her mother was reunited with her father, resting in peace.

Maxine felt guilt too. She didn’t get to spend enough time with her parents—over twenty years was lost. What was worse was to be in a coma while her mother was dying. More tears trickled from her eyes, and the hurt she felt in her heart and her soul was becoming overwhelming.

She touched her mother’s body gently and sulked. Maxine wanted to show her mother the good life. The cruise was only the beginning. There just wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was a beautiful service. The choir sang and the pastor gave a lovely eulogy. There were flowers and pictures of her mother everywhere.

Mrs. Shirley, her mother’s best friend, hugged Maxine, gave her condolences, and said to her, “Your mother was a good woman, and she loved you so much. I’m gonna miss her. But you be strong, Maxine.”

Maxine nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. Mrs. Shirley was good peoples. She gave Maxine a lingering hug. It was comforting.

“God bless you, and I’ll be praying for you,” said Mrs. Shirley.

The slow church hymns made everyone emotional, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place, except for Scott. He sat in the front pew stoic. He was there for emotional support. He’d seen his fair share of funerals and had shed his tears for loved ones.

After the service, the hearse led the line of cars north of the church toward The Evergreens Cemetery. It was a bright, blue-sky day and windy, but not too cold. Maxine climbed out of the limousine looking immaculate in her classic black dress, black shoes, a large black hat, and dark shades. Scott walked with her toward the burial site. It too was bedecked with lots of flowers and pictures, and there was a seating area under a tent canopy for the family and close friends.

As a precaution, Scott had a few of his henchmen scattered around the cemetery for security. They was dressed in black, armed, and moved around covertly.

The pastor stood near the casket with his bible, prepared to send the woman off in good measure. Each mourner held a red or white rose to toss onto the casket when it would descend into the ground. They stood around the burial site in silence. So far, everything seemed at peace, until it wasn’t.

The black Maybach came to a stop inside the cemetery, and it immediately caught the attention of Scott and a few others. Scott’s head turned toward the lustrous vehicle in the distance, and he stood on high alert. He was armed and ready for anything. The doors to the Maybach opened, and out stepped Layla and Lucky. Scott scowled at mother and daughter, and he felt his blood pressure rising.

Why is she here?

“This fuckin’ bitch,” he muttered. He knew his soon to be ex-wife wasn’t there to give her condolences to Maxine. She was there to stir something up.

Maxine noticed the bitch too. The nerve of Layla to show up to her mother’s funeral. The anger Maxine felt was murderous, and she was ready to confront Layla, but Scott stopped her.

“I’ll handle it.”

Layla was dressed to the nines, wearing a long, white mink coat, matching mink hat, and shiny white pearls that contradicted the black and gloomy mood at the cemetery. She strutted in a pair of white heels with red bottoms and was smiling with Lucky in tow. Besides the driver, she and Lucky had come alone, no goons—or so it seemed. Right away, Scott’s men intervened before Layla could step any closer to the tent. They stood in her way like a closing gate, frowning and on their jobs. She wasn’t invited or allowed there.

“Excuse me!” Layla barked at them.

“You’re not welcome here,” said one man.

“Don’t tell me where I’m not fuckin’ welcome. I came here to pay my respects to a friend,” Layla exclaimed.

“There’s no trouble here—not today!”

Layla and Lucky were defiant; they weren’t going anywhere. Layla threatened the men, but they weren’t backing down. Then Scott approached.

Scott exclaimed, “Leave here now!”

“Fuck you, Scott!” Layla cursed.

Scott gritted his teeth and scowled. “This is a funeral. Show some damn respect!”

“Respect? You have the nerve to talk about showing some fuckin’ respect. You and that bitch don’t know shit about respect!” Layla retorted.

Scott was so sick and tired of her over-the-top antics. She had no reason to show up. His goons kept her away, but a commotion was ensuing. Layla loved the attention. It’s what she wanted—a disturbance—and Scott was falling right into her trap.

“Fuck that bitch and her dead mother!” Layla shouted.

The obscenity was harsh and highly disrespectful. Scott got close to her with his fists clenched. He wanted her gone.

When she threatened him with, “They gonna be burying you and that bitch next,” he lost it. The punch to her face came rapidly, and it hit Layla so hard her legs buckled and she went down like Joe Frazier. The pain was unlike anything she had felt before. It shot through her whole body and knocked off her mink hat. She’d threatened him, and he didn’t like to be threatened.

The scream she released was ear-piercing. She was lucky he hadn’t broken her jaw. But Scott wasn’t done with her yet. As Layla shouted, “You fuckin’ bastard! I’ll kill you!” Scott charged at her and grabbed her roughly into a strong chokehold. This was a funeral, and Layla was making an absolute mockery of it.

“Get the fuck off me! Get off me, you sonofabitch!” she screamed as she struggled in his chokehold.

Everyone was shocked, including Lucky. How could he treat Layla like that—his wife and mother of his kids? He punched her like she was a man and a stranger to him. Lucky was still salty from the slap he gave her over Penelope, and she didn’t like the way he was manhandling her mother. She just couldn’t stand aside and watch. She shouted, “You fuckin’ bastard!” and went to aid her mother. She attacked him from behind; she bit his forearm, punched him, and scratched his face repeatedly to pull him off her mother. A violent spectacle developed at the funeral, and everyone was watching and looking stunned. Maxine wanted to jump up and stop the spectacle, but her feet felt like stone. She was unmovable. Her eyes darted as Scott sent blows from Layla to Lucky, all in her honor.

“You ungrateful little bitch!” Scott howled at Lucky.

If Lucky thought her slap was sobering, or the face shot Scott had given Layla was embarrassing, then she wasn’t prepared for the ass kicking he was about to dole out. Scott was to be respected and feared, but his wife and daughter were treating him like he was Mickey Mouse. These two bitches were spoiled. He released his frustration on them both, tired of Layla’s bullshit—the fifty million she’d stolen from him, the stunt at the hospital, the disrespect she showed to him on the streets, and now at Maxine’s mom’s funeral.

Something snapped inside of Scott, and an ugly and snarling beast manifested in front of everyone. He attacked Lucky too. She was no match for her father. He punched her and she folded over like a chair. His fist tightened around Lucky’s long and curly hair, and he yanked it so tight that pieces ripped away from her scalp. He hit his only living daughter like she was a punching bag in the gym. The violence that erupted at the burial service had all eyes on the fight. Layla jumped to her feet desperately and tried to attack Scott, but his men held her back.

“Get off her like that, you muthafucka! You’re gonna kill her! You’re gonna kill your own child!” Layla yelled.

“This bitch wanna be grown and come at me like a fuckin’ nigga!” Scott shouted. He gripped his daughter into a tight chokehold and could feel her gagging from lack of air.

Maxine and others finally ran toward the conflict.

Layla’s driver, Manny, emerged from the Maybach and charged toward the incident with his gun in hand. The driver aimed his gun at Scott, ready to shoot and kill the man to protect the two ladies. Scott’s goons pulled out too and aimed their guns back at the driver, and a Mexican standoff quickly ensued. Maxine ran toward Scott, and although she hated Layla and Lucky and wanted both bitches to suffer, she wanted no bloodshed or killing at her mother’s funeral.

Scott still squeezed Lucky in a strong chokehold, and the light was gradually fading from her eyes. Her struggle against him was useless. He would kill her.

Layla helplessly watched as she couldn’t free herself from the men that held her. Their strength was crippling her from charging and aiding Lucky. Her eyes shot over at Maxine and they pleaded—she pleaded, “Maxine, please stop him! He’s gonna kill her!”

“Scott, please! Not here! Not at my mother’s funeral,” Maxine shouted at him.

It seemed Maxine’s voice and words were pulling him away from the rage he felt. Maxine was right. Today wasn’t the day. He finally released Lucky from the chokehold and she fell forward, collapsing on her knees and gasping for air while clutching her neck.

Scott was breathing hard. Where he’d come from, it was a very dark and ugly place. He’d almost killed Lucky. He could have snapped her neck like a twig, and it would have been another child of his dead—but by his own hands.

Layla and Lucky stood near each other, breathing hard, their outfits and hair in complete disarray. They were traumatized. Scott had taken things too far. Layla locked eyes with him. She wanted to fuck him up real good. She growled, “You fuckin’ bastard!”

He stood there in silence for a moment, collecting himself and collecting his sanity. Finally, he spoke. “Take my daughter to the hospital,” he told his men.

Lucky looked terrible. Her hair was everywhere, and her lip was bleeding. It was a damn shame. Scott’s goons walked over to help her, but she resisted. She could kill her father right now. She wanted to so badly. She spit a mixture of blood and saliva at Scott and cursed, “Get the fuck away from me! Fuck you, nigga! I hate you! I fuckin’ hate you!”

Scott didn’t flinch. He showed no regret for what he’d done to her. They wanted to test him, and he passed with flying colors.

Layla was on fire like the pit of hell. “You do this to your daughter! You’re a damn coward, you fuckin’ bastard and woman beater! I hope you rot in hell, you bitch-ass nigga!”

Layla helped her daughter back to the car with Manny’s help. They were soon long gone, and the burial resumed.