On the third day, she told them all to kiss her ass.
However, I could tell that on some points her family had slipped their logic into her mind.
Would she ever be able to accept my life?
On that third day, I brought her with me to Mrs. Semenov’s for lunch. It was a hit. Both women were infatuated with the other. They laughed and chatted the whole time, ignoring any comment or statement from me.
Before we left, Mrs. Semenov cried in Rose’s arms and told her she missed her son.
On the fourth day, I gave up on all Syndicate business. Mrs. Semenov had Viktor’s body cremated. Rose and I attended the private ceremony.
After that, I couldn’t go to the East or West.
All I could do was return to bed. And Rose didn’t question it. In fact, she joined me.
What would I do without her?
Rose, Barbara, and I remained in my master suite the rest of the day, nibbling food and reading romances.
That evening, I put Barbara in her own suite and fucked Rose for hours in ours.
We spent the rest of the week doing the same—tasting and teasing, fucking and sucking. When I wasn’t inside of her, I was next to her, gazing into her eyes and inhaling her flowery scent.
She was healing me. I could feel her seeping into my darkness and adding brightness to it. Her affection and attention was the thread. It stitched my open wounds closed.
However, this week brought new challenges for my mind—ones that I couldn’t hide from.
And then there was the funeral.
I’ll miss you, Romeo and Chanel. . .so much that. . .Paradise will never be the same.
On the Monday of the next week, rain poured down all around us in the cemetery. A cold breeze blew. Although early in the afternoon, shades of gray painted the sky. Oak tree branches hung low, weighed down by the storm and the grief radiating from us.
So many people came out to say goodbye.
I had my left arm wrapped around Rose’s waist. I held a large umbrella with my right hand. She’d worn a beautiful black suit that showed off her figure, but was very classy.
The West combined Romeo and Chanel’s funeral into one. I was sure all of us were thankful. No one wanted to return to the cemetery twice to bury people that had caused so much loss in our hearts. They’d held a closed ceremony in Ebenezer African Methodist Church, not allowing anyone that wasn’t family to enter, not even the Syndicate.
However, the cemetery burial was open.
It was important for all of the Syndicate to be there for the West. I called Marcelo and left messages with Lei to push that fact. There needed to be repair within our shattered family. The first step would be supporting the Killer Crows in every way.
But as I scanned the area, I knew the Syndicate was more divided than ever. While the Killer Crows sat across from us, united in all red, Marcelo and I stood together on the other side of the graves. Our men were behind us—a sea of yellow and green suits with red roses on their lapels.
The East’s blue made no appearance. Lei had either not gotten my message or forbid his side to come.
Perhaps, that was a sign of respect, since it was his father who did this.
Diamonds draped every women in Chanel’s family—ears, neck, and wrists. Somehow they sparkled in the rain pour.
Chanel, would have loved that.
Two opened graves resided between us—the very symbol of what had separated everyone. Their closed caskets were next to them. Piles of rain-drenched roses topped them. Romeo’s casket was full. Chanel’s was still empty.
Dressed in a red suit, Kashmere scowled at Marcelo and me, showing her disappointment for not returning Chanel’s body.
I’m so sorry. I tried. Trust me.
Guilt rose in my chest.
In addition, Kashmere had Chanel’s gold guns holstered on her sides as if that morning she considered shooting us in our heads. Her uncle, Barry stood next to her.
How am I going to fix this?
A bird cawed right above me.
Full of grief, I gazed up at the tree and tensed.
Two black crows perched on a wet, low hanging branch. Every few minutes they shook the raindrops off their feathers and cawed. And for a second I wondered if that was Romeo and Chanel telling me goodbye.
Give me a sign. Romeo? Chanel? Is that you?
One crowed.
No. Don’t be crazy. Don’t start trying to talk to birds.
I returned my view to the funeral attendees. Through the rain, I scanned the rest of the space.
Pastor Martin held a small red umbrella and prayed over the opened graves. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.”
Like all from the West, he wore blood red. It was no surprise of his loyalty to the Killer Crows. He’d been one himself, before leaving the life and serving God. “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.”