Chapter 1 The Funeral
Darrius Red had bounced men twice his size out of clubs without raising his voice.
He’d broken up fights with one hand.
He’d stood between drunk men and loaded guns.
But somehow, standing in the parking lot of Harrison & Sons Funeral Home, Dark Red couldn’t make his feet move.
He stared through the windshield.
Cars filled damn near every parking space.
Cadillacs. Chargers. Pickup trucks. Church vans. A few cars that looked like they hadn’t passed inspection since Obama was president.
Big Red had always told him:
“You can tell how a man lived by who shows up when he dies.”
Apparently, Big Red had lived one hell of a life.
Darrius swallowed.
Beside him, Loretta Red sat perfectly still.
Black dress.
Black heels.
Gold hoops.
Hair curled and laid like she had somewhere important to be afterward.
Not one tear.
Not one sniffle.
Nothing.
Darrius glanced at her.
She was staring straight ahead.
He looked away.
He wasn’t about to ask.
His mama had a way of making questions feel disrespectful before you even finished asking them.
Instead, his mind wandered.
Back to being eight years old and Big Red making him return a candy bar he’d stolen.
“A Red don’t steal what he got hands strong enough to work for.”
Thirteen, getting suspended for fighting.
Big Red hadn’t asked who won.
He’d asked why it started.
“Any fool can swing, boy. Learn when not to.”
Sixteen.
First heartbreak.
Darrius had been sitting on the porch pretending he wasn’t crying over some little girl named Keisha.
Big Red had walked past him carrying a beer.
Stopped.
Looked at him.
“She leave you?”
Darrius nodded.
“You cheat?”
“No, sir.”
“Hit her?”
“No.”
“Disrespect her?”
“No.”
Big Red shrugged.
“Then let her ass go.”
Darrius laughed quietly at the memory.
And that was what did it.
His eyes burned.
He blinked hard.
A tear collected anyway.
He wiped it away immediately.
Straightened his shoulders.
Adjusted his black suit jacket.
Then checked his tie in the rearview mirror.
Big Red would’ve hated the tie.
“Boy, why you got that skinny-ass tie on? You shaped like a refrigerator. Put some width on that shit.”
Darrius almost smiled.
Almost.
He turned toward his mother.
“You ready?”
Loretta finally looked at him.
She reached across the console and fixed his tie.
“You askin’ me or yourself?”
“Mama.”
“I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
Loretta’s eyes narrowed.
“Darrius.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Your daddy is dead whether I walk through that door or sit in this car.”
He stared at her.
Loretta opened her door.
“So let’s go bury him.”
And that was that.
⸻
The funeral home got quiet when they walked in.
Not silent.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Silence meant nobody was talking.
Quiet meant everybody had been talking and stopped because you walked in.
Dark Red noticed.
Loretta damn sure noticed.
Her chin lifted about half an inch.
That half-inch told Darrius everything he needed to know.
Don’t ask.
An older woman near the guest book whispered, “Lord have mercy. That’s his boy.”
Her friend leaned around her.
“That’s Darrius?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good God.”
“I told you.”
“That boy look like he eat people.”
Darrius stopped.
Both women froze.
He looked at them.
“Only on weekends.”
One woman’s mouth fell open.
The other slapped her arm.
Darrius kept walking.
Behind him, Loretta muttered, “Don’t start.”
“Wasn’t me.”
“It is always you.”
That almost made him smile again.
Almost.
Then he saw the casket.
Everything else disappeared.
Big Red.
His father.
The biggest man Darrius had ever known somehow looked smaller lying down.
His signature red beard had been trimmed perfectly. Somebody had put him in a dark charcoal suit with a deep burgundy tie.
His hands rested across his stomach.
Still.
Darrius had never seen those hands still.
Those hands fixed engines.
Built decks.
Gripped his shoulder when he needed correcting.
Slapped dominoes onto kitchen tables.
Pointed directly into Darrius’s chest whenever Big Red wanted to make sure his son understood something.
“Your word gotta weigh something.”
Darrius approached slowly.
He placed one hand against the edge of the casket.
“Damn, Pops.”
His voice cracked.
He cleared his throat.
“You really left me out here.”
Loretta stood several feet behind him.
Still nothing.
Darrius stared at his father’s face.
“I’ma be straight.”
He nodded as though Big Red could hear him.
“I got Mama.”
Loretta’s eyes moved toward him.
“And everything you taught me…”
He stopped.
His jaw tightened.
“I got it.”
For the first time that morning, Loretta looked away.
⸻
“Darrius?”
He turned.
A short older man in a gray suit approached him.
“Mr. Red.”
Darrius shook his hand.
“Mr. Collins.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The man’s attention shifted toward Loretta.
“Loretta.”
“Charles.”
The temperature in the room dropped approximately seventeen degrees.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat.
“Well.”
Darrius looked between them.
“You two know each other?”
Loretta answered immediately.
“Unfortunately.”
Mr. Collins sighed.
“Your mother has always had a remarkable way with people.”
“I have a remarkable memory too, Charles.”
“I see grief hasn’t changed you.”
“Death don’t make me fake.”
Darrius rubbed his beard.
“Mama.”
“What?”
“We been inside six minutes.”
“And?”
“Can we make it ten?”
Mr. Collins coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
Loretta shot him a look.
He stopped coughing.
“Anyway,” he said quickly, “there are some people here your father would’ve wanted you to meet.”
Darrius frowned.
“Who?”
Mr. Collins hesitated.
Loretta’s entire body changed.
It was subtle.
But Darrius knew his mother.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Her mouth tightened.
And those perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around her purse strap.
“No,” Loretta said.
Darrius looked at her.
“No what?”
Mr. Collins sighed.
“Loretta—”
“I said no.”
“Mama, what is he talking about?”
“Nothing concerning you.”
“Apparently it concern me if Pops wanted me to meet somebody.”
Loretta looked at him.
“Darrius.”
“Mama.”
They stared at each other.
Mr. Collins looked like a man reconsidering every decision that had led him to this profession.
Then a woman’s voice came from behind them.
“Still making everything about you, I see.”
Loretta froze.
Darrius turned.
A petite white woman stood near the doorway.
Beautiful.
Not young.
But beautiful in the kind of way that suggested she’d probably caused a few divorces without even meaning to.
Maybe some she’d meant to.
Her blonde hair was softly styled around her face. Black dress. Gold jewelry. Expensive-looking heels. No dramatic funeral hat. No excessive makeup.
Just composed.
Elegant.
And staring directly at Loretta.
Loretta’s lips parted.
“Deirdre.”
Deirdre smiled.
It wasn’t friendly.
“Loretta.”
Darrius looked between them.
Oh.
Whatever this was…
was old.
Loretta stepped forward.
“I was wondering when you’d crawl out.”
Deirdre’s smile widened.
“Still bitter after all these years?”
“Bitter?”
Loretta laughed once.
“Honey, I’d have to care about you to be bitter.”
“That’s interesting. You’ve been talking about me for thirty years.”
“I ain’t said your name in twenty-nine.”
“And yet you remembered it immediately.”
Darrius closed his eyes.
“Mama.”
Loretta held up one finger.
“Stay out grown folks’ business.”
“I’m thirty.”
“Still my child.”
Deirdre glanced at him.
And stopped.
Her expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
She studied his face.
His height.
His shoulders.
Then his red hair.
“My God,” she whispered.
Darrius frowned.
Deirdre looked almost shaken.
“You look exactly like him.”
Loretta stepped between them.
“He look like me.”
Deirdre blinked.
“Loretta, that man is six-foot-three with red hair and Big Red’s entire face.”
“He got my complexion.”
“Congratulations.”
Darrius turned his head.
Even Mr. Collins looked at the floor.
Loretta’s nostrils flared.
“See, that’s exactly why nobody wanted your ass here.”
Deirdre’s expression hardened.
“I’m not here for you.”
“You damn sure ain’t here for him.”
“Actually…”
Deirdre looked toward the casket.
“I came to bury the father of my children.”
Darrius stopped breathing.
Children?
Loretta didn’t move.
Mr. Collins suddenly found the funeral home’s wallpaper fascinating.
Darrius looked at his mother.
“Mama.”
Nothing.
“Mama.”
Loretta sighed.
“Oh, Lord.”
Darrius’s voice dropped.
“What children?”
Before she could answer, a woman approached from behind Deirdre.
Tall.
Thin.
Tanned skin covered in freckles.
Curly red hair pulled away from her face.
She was wearing black like everybody else, but somehow hers looked tailored specifically to let the room know she had standards.
She looked Darrius up and down.
Slowly.
Then frowned.
“This is him?”
Loretta snapped, “Who the hell is him?”
The woman didn’t even look at her.
“Darrius.”
Darrius stared.
“Who are you?”
“Anna.”
She extended her hand.
He looked at it.
Then her.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Are we shaking hands or are you going to keep staring at me?”
Darrius slowly shook it.
“Anna who?”
Her expression changed.
“Red.”
His hand stopped moving.
Behind her came a man.
About six-one.
Solid build.
Tailored black suit.
Fresh haircut.
Red hair.
Watch probably worth more than Darrius’s car.
And smelling so damn good Darrius caught the cologne from six feet away.
Darrius stared at him.
The man stared back.
Nobody spoke.
Because this wasn’t resemblance.
This was something else.
Same jaw.
Same eyes.
Same shoulders.
Same damn expression.
Just different complexions.
The man extended his hand.
“Shawn.”
Darrius didn’t take it.
Shawn lowered his hand.
“All right.”
Darrius looked at Loretta.
She was suddenly extremely interested in adjusting the sleeve of her dress.
“Mama.”
Loretta sighed.
“Darrius, don’t do this here.”
“Do what?”
People were watching now.
Loretta lowered her voice.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Explain what?”
Anna folded her arms.
“Wait.”
She looked at Deirdre.
“He doesn’t know?”
Deirdre didn’t answer.
Anna’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Shawn exhaled.
“Anna.”
“No. Because we drove fourteen hours—”
“Nine,” Shawn corrected.
“It felt like fourteen.”
“You slept for three.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Darrius stared at them.
“Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?”
And then another voice floated in from behind them.
“Wait…”
Everybody turned.
A young woman stood halfway inside the doorway wearing sunglasses.
Indoors.
At a funeral.
Her red hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, freckles scattered across her face.
She held a giant gas-station cup in one hand.
A purse in the other.
And one heel.
Just one.
Deirdre closed her eyes.
“Grace.”
Grace pointed at Darrius.
“Why Shawn got a deluxe edition?”
Nobody said anything.
Grace lowered her sunglasses.
She looked at Shawn.
Then Darrius.
Then Shawn again.
“Damn.”
Anna pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Are you high?”
Grace looked offended.
“At our father’s funeral?”
“Yes.”
Grace considered it.
“Little bit.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“He already know.”
“Grace!”
“What?!”
Darrius would’ve laughed under literally any other circumstances.
Instead, he looked at all three of them.
Anna.
Shawn.
Grace.
Red hair.
Freckles.
Big Red’s eyes scattered across three unfamiliar faces.
Then Deirdre.
Then his mother.
His voice came out quieter this time.
“Mama…”
Loretta finally looked at him.
Darrius pointed toward them.
“Who are these people?”
Loretta stared at Deirdre.
Deirdre stared right back.
Years of hatred passed between them without either woman saying a word.
Finally, Loretta sucked her teeth.
“Them?”
She looked at Anna, Shawn and Grace like somebody had delivered furniture she never ordered.
“Those are your daddy’s…”
She paused.
“…secondary thoughts.”
Anna’s mouth dropped open.
“Excuse me?”
Grace whispered, “Oh, she funny.”
Shawn rubbed his forehead.
Deirdre stepped forward.
“Secondary—”
Loretta continued.
“And they lucky they got invited.”
Deirdre’s composure disappeared.
“Lucky?! My children?!”
Loretta turned toward her.
“Don’t start with me today, Deirdre.”
“Oh, I’m going to finish with you today.”
Mr. Collins quietly backed away.
Darrius noticed.
“Mr. Collins.”
The man stopped.
“Don’t you leave me.”
“I’m going to check on the flowers.”
“Flowers ain’t going nowhere.”
Grace snorted.
Shawn covered his mouth.
Even Anna looked like she was fighting a smile.
Loretta wasn’t.
Neither was Deirdre.
And standing between two furious women, three siblings he’d never known existed, and the casket of the man he’d thought he knew better than anyone…
Darrius realized something.
His father’s funeral wasn’t about to give him closure.
It had just opened a door.
And judging by the way everybody in that room was looking at everybody else…
there was a whole lot of shit buried behind it.
