Smith, I have things to do, so please, if you can, continue.”
Silence returned for a bit.
“Mr. Dunes, I do have to elaborate a bit more on what we were discussing previously. I’m not a scientist, but I did consult a genealogist just in case.” The attorney flipped through a few papers. “Widow’s peaks are not a maternal trait. They are from the father’s side. Hair color can be from either side, but that specific trait, the peak, is paternal. Now, I can see that, as Mr. Benjamin Creed’s cousin and friend, you are troubled by this information. However, please bear in mind that these are the deceased’s wishes. I am simply the messenger.”
“No… no. That’s not how this is going down. I don’t think these were his wishes at all! Somebody got in his ear…” The man’s eyes flattened to inky slits. “Something strange is going on.”
“Mr. Creed was in his right mind, Mr. Dunes. He wasn’t feeble, senile, or suffering from an illness that would’ve caused delusions, confusion, or forgetfulness.”
“Well, let me tell you, Mr. Smith. I’m not going to just sit back and take this. Benjamin wouldn’t do me like that. He wouldn’t do any of us like this.” Many heads nodded in agreement. “I’m contesting this shit! Ya hear me?!” The man jumped out of his chair like he was a kangaroo on a pogo stick. Aries drew on his cigarette and began to laugh slow, then faster. What a shitshow!
“Something funny?” The man glared at him.
Aries gathered his wits. “As a matter of fact, little man, there is. You. You are unequivocally hysterical, if I say so myself.”
“Well, laugh at this! You must not mean much, because Benjamin never mentioned shit about you. So what does that say, huh?” He pointed at him, his voice echoing in the chamber.
“And?” Aries shrugged. “You keep saying that as if it means something… as if he’s the first guy to have a kid and hide it, keep it to himself. I think you can safely assume that my father wasn’t a saint but more importantly, I wasn’t aware I needed your seal of approval, little grasshopper. And again, I say to you, I don’t even know who the hell you are, and I definitely don’t care enough about cha to find out.”
The man’s complexion deepened and the frown lines in his face multiplied right before his eyes. “You’re about to know who I am… I know you’re running some sort of scheme, a con game, a scam. You ain’t nothin’ but some bastard baby, some kid that that mama of yours pinned on my cousin, and ya sittin’ there all smug, rubbing it in our faces knowing it’s a lie!”
“Anything rubbed in your face, including battery acid or a pile of steaming dog shit, would be a great improvement.”
The room erupted in chatter, blasphemies, and threats.
“I should come over there and knock that silly ass grin off your fuckin’ face! How about that for an improvement?!”
“You’re nothin’ but a two bit, greedy cricket of a man who if ya hippity hop my way, partner, I will crush you like the bug that you are. And your pal, Pinocchio, too. I don’t do threats. I do the real thing. So, if you wanna play, let’s play, Tom Thumb.”
“Men!” Mr. Smith stated, his voice stern, cutting. “Enough.”
“DNA! We need a DNA test on this son of a bitch.” The cricket stomped his foot. “Ain’t no way he is part of this family. Benjamin would never lie with the likes of his mother and produce such a piece of shit—he don’t have no respect! Benjamin is dead and this man sat down at that funeral, and didn’t even show any care or concern.”
“How can I have care or concern about a person who never even picked up a damn phone to call me, a pencil to write me a letter, or even got in his car to come by my house and see me? That person in that cemetery is as much of a stranger to me as you are. That was his choice. Funny you want to talk about care, concern, and DNA, and all you care about is that my father didn’t leave you anything. Shame, huh? Now you gotta get up off your keister and work hard like the rest of us. Don’t worry. I heard The Fish and Bass Shop is hiring. They need a new bait mascot. The maggot quit.”