The cemetery was alive with the quiet murmurs of grief. A solemn crowd stood gathered around a freshly dug grave, the air thick with an unspoken reverence. Dark suits, somber dresses, and the occasional gleam of sunglasses shielded mournful eyes from the midday sun. Among the mourners, a line of gleaming muscle cars stood parked along the cemetery's edge—machines polished to a high shine, their presence an odd contrast to the occasion.
Miles shifted uncomfortably, his hands in the pockets of his coat as he took in the scene. He glanced over at his friends, Jamal and Brenda, standing at his side.
"Is it just me, or is this funeral kind of badass?" he murmured, his voice low.
Jamal nodded, his eyes flicking toward the impressive row of vehicles. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Just look at all these muscle cars."
Miles smirked, tilting his head. "Yeah, Ms. Trisha's class somehow produced the next generation of gangsters."
Brenda, standing beside them with her arms crossed, gave them a look—deadpan as ever. "What are you guys even talking about? This is how Black funerals are."
Miles raised an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause it seems like the whole intelligence community is here. Plus cops, prison guards…"
Jamal followed his gaze, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, but that's more for Victor and Jose."
Brenda shrugged. "Yeah, but Victor… I don't know how he swung that."
Jamal scoffed. "Victor? What about Jose? He shot up a school—you're not even supposed to get to see a molecule of light after that."
Miles exhaled. "I hear he's got a lot of juice inside."
Jamal frowned. "That's some juice—to get the government to let him come to the funeral of someone he's not even related to."
Brenda's expression softened, her voice quieter now. "Well, most people here came because Ms. Trisha was like a mother to them. Even to us."
Jamal sighed, nodding in agreement. "I get that more than anyone. I don't know how many times she stayed with me at the school entrance, waiting for my mom to pick me up. She was there, even the day she left for good. I don't think I would have gotten over that feeling without her guidance."
Miles grinned, nudging him lightly. "Hey, don't forget me—I was there too."
Jamal smirked. "Well, you're still alive, so you won't get your flowers yet."
Miles put a hand over his heart in mock seriousness. "I could cut my veins and turn this into a double funeral."
Brenda didn't miss a beat. "I volunteer to do the slicing. Promise you won't feel a thing."
Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Wow, thinking about death at a funeral. That's low, even for you guys."
Brenda tilted her head slightly, as if considering. "What else do you talk about at funerals, except death?"
Jamal sighed. "Maybe top five lists, like normal people."
Brenda chuckled. "Whenever we get into those debates, we go way too deep and way too personal. I don't recommend that here."
Miles nodded in agreement. "Good call."
Brenda looked between them. "So, what do we talk about?"
Jamal's voice dropped into something more reflective. "Someone we're all here for… you know, the deceased."
Miles looked down, uncomfortable. "Most of my encounters with her were during my lowest moments. I don't wanna relive that sober."
Jamal nodded. "I'm right there with you. Man, that school had a lot of drama, and somehow she was always in the middle of it."
Miles chuckled. "You mean other people's drama."
Jamal laughed. "Obviously. Like that time Mike got picked up with three of his dad's side chicks."
Miles grinned, shaking his head. "Oh yeah, that was like watching a live Tyler Perry production."
Jamal smiled at the memory. "We learned so many curse words that day."
Brenda, surprised, raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Mike's dad had three women show up to pick his son up?"
Miles nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't planned. They all thought they were stepping up to be Mike's stepmom, but a mix-up happened."
Jamal laughed. "Yeah, Mike's dad has a bit of a reputation. Three of them found out about each other that day."
Brenda's curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, a reputation?"
Jamal smirked. "Well, apparently, he went on a bender of sorts."
Miles added with a shake of his head, "He never woke up alone. And never with the same woman. That's how big his reputation was."
Jamal leaned in slightly. "Can't blame the guy, I guess. Works long hours to provide, only for his wife to start an affair with the postal worker—and that's not even the worst of it."
Brenda blinked. "What?"
Miles sighed. "Worst part? He was the last to find out, and he found out in a pretty bad way."
Brenda hesitated. "How?"
Miles's voice dropped lower. "He got sick one day and had to leave work early. When he got home, the guy was hiding under the bed all night. No way to run."
Jamal grinned. "And during the night, there were some vibrations coming from under the bed."
Miles shook his head. "Yeah, and his wife gave him some action just minutes after she was with the postal worker. So, they were basically in a threesome."
Jamal's smirk widened. "That's when the husband decided to check under the bed and found a light-skinned, naked man hiding there. And the wife immediately said he was an intruder."
Brenda stared, incredulous. "Wait, she tried to say he was an intruder?"
Miles laughed. "Hells yeah. But the husband was quick to grab a bat, so the guy came clean."
Lena's voice darkened with curiosity. "Did the husband kill him?"
Jamal shook his head, amused. "No. How would he have gone through his roster from the inside? He just left the house."
For a moment, the three of them stood in silence, the weight of the story settling over them.
Miles let out a breath. "You know, funerals really bring out the best and worst stories."
Jamal nodded, his tone softer now. "Yeah, makes you appreciate life… and the people in it."
Miles glanced at him. "No one saw him the whole day. They found him in an Irish pub later, passed out drunk in the alley."
Jamal checked his watch. "Yo, guys, it's time to go pay our final respects."
Without another word, they turned toward the grave, joining the family as they stepped forward to say their goodbyes.