BMOC Chapter 41
Mrs. Deleon decided to have a visitation and memorial service for Bruce at the local mortuary so that his friends (the few that there) could say their good-byes. The funeral service and burial would take place back home, where most of his family was buried.
His death wasn't a major shock for anyone that had been following the story. How he died was the only question most asked. If the fall from a 7th story window didn't immediately kill him, then what could have? A blood clot in the brain was what the autopsy uncovered. Only God knew that only seconds before the clot wreaked its damage, Chase was prepared to become Bruce’s anonymous undertaker?
Dre certainly didn't. He exhaled when he heard the news of Bruces death. After all that he'd been through, all that he'd lost because of his involvement with Bruce, it was more than relief to know that he would never have to worry about Bruce disrupting his life again. Or anyone else's for that matter.
After much prodding, Dre had convinced Chase that they should go to the service together. An hour before the service began he went and knocked on Chase's door. When Chase answered it, Dre's surprise was reflected on his face.
"What wrong?" Chase asked. "You don't like my outfit?"
It wasn't that Dre didn't like it. The outfit was a blinking neon sign that said, "I'm happy, I'm ready to party," which was not the expected attitude at a memorial service. He could just imagine walking into the mortuary with Chase dressed that way.
"You're not wearing that."
Chase closed the door and replied evenly, "Yes I am."
"Are you insane? Look, I know you had your issues with Bruce --"
"He raped me." Chase adjusted his tie as Dre stood an open-mouthed with shock.."
"He did what?"
"I'm not about to talk about it. What's important is that he's dead, and I'm happy because I didn't even have to kill him."
"Didn't have to kill him? What are you saying?"
Chase related how he stood over Bruce’s bed, placing the needle on his arm, and praying. Before he could go through with it, the machines began to whistle all around him. He grabbed the needle and ran, just as the doctors and nurses arrived and tried to resuscitate Bruce.
Dre sat down at the desk near Chase's bed, and covered his face with his hands.
"I'm not crazy, Dre."
"I know."
"He was full of hate. He deserved death."
"Nobody deserves to die," he said. "Bruce did a lot of crazy shit to a lot of people, but he didn't deserve what happened to him."
Chase's eyes narrowed and frown lines wrinkled his forehead. "The dick must have been good for you to say something that ignorant."
Dre stood. "I'm going to let that slide because you're obviously tripping right now." He walked toward the door. "You should stay here. You may hate Bruce and you got a right to feel that if he actually did what you say he did. But Bruce is dead. You showing up at his funeral like this won't hurt him. It will only hurt the ones he left behind. Like his mom. And she doesn’t deserve that disrespect. Not today."
Chase stared at Dre without comment. He watched him walk out of his room and didn't show any sign that he had heard what Dre said. Fuck Bruce and his mama, he thought. He wasn't about to miss the opportunity to say a special goodbye to Bruce, and no one was about to stop him.
BMOC Chapter 42
Morton & Sons Mortuary was packed with visitors the day of Bruce’s service. Dre arrived early with his parents to support Mrs. McLemore. He alternated between the front of the parlor and the entry-way, careful not to stare too long at the casket.
When he first saw Bruce in his final resting state, his jaw dropped. He hadn't been shocked by Bruce’s death, nor was he shocked to see him in a casket. It was how he looked in the casket that stunned Dre. He was so peaceful. Gone was the smug, sexy grin. Bruce was serene for the first time in Dre's memory. It was a moment of revelation, one that amused and saddened him at the same time. He didn't know whether to smile, scream, or shake his head, so out of respect for Mrs. McLemore, he excused himself to the restroom before his reaction embarrassed he and his parents.
The memorial service had begun by the time Cherron arrived. It didn't take her long to make her presence known to everyone else, however.
"Bruce?" Her voice wavered, but it was urgent with fear and thus resounded through the parlor
“Bruce?" she repeated.
Everyone turned around in their seats and stared at the confused young woman calling out to a corpse as if expecting a response. "Would you have a seat, please?" An usher whispered in her ear.
She rolled her shoulder pushing away from the usher. "Who are you? You don't even know Bruce! None of you know him like I know him!" She screamed at the rows of eyes staring at her. She ran toward the casket and stopped dramatically just before she reached it. "No! Don't you do this to me, Bruce DeLeon! Not now! You get your ass up! Wake up!" She rushed the casket and began to pull at Bruce’s suit.
"I'm not raising no baby alone, you bastard! Wake up!"
By now, the usher and a few others had recovered from the shock of Cherron's outburst and were restraining her.
But it was it was after Cherron left she returned that the real show began.
Chase strutted into the parlor, smiling. He stopped in the middle of the aisle, took a good, long look at Bruce in his casket and cried out, "Hallelujah!" The preacher's son from Indiana got the Holy Ghost, dancing down the aisle while praising God for what was truly a blessing for him. As with Cherron, those present were stunned into silence and immobility by this display. Dre rushed toward him, tried to pull him away from the casket, but at twice Andre’s size, Chase wasn't about to led anywhere. He shoved Dre off to the side and without breaking his stride, reared back and hurled a glob of phlem directly into the casket.
Mrs. McLemore screamed, and then collapsed.
Chase was restrained and the police summoned and all the attendees were dismissed. Dre wasn't happy at the turn of events. Bruce did horrible things while he was alive, but in death, he didn't deserve what took place at the service. More to the point, his mother didn't deserve it. He was shaking his head in shock and wonder as he walked down the steps when he heard a familiar voice calling out his name.
That voice. That voice, he knew, belonged to only one person.
“Maleek!”