14| Maverick.

The church is overflowing with guests, extending out onto the lawn in front of the grand old oak doors.

This funeral is extravagant, almost fit for a worshipped King.

A tribute my father doesn't merit.

In our world, appearances are everything. Which is why I’m sitting here, in the first row, next to my wife Arnica on my right and Matthias on my left.

I pull out my shades and slide them over the bridge of my nose. I'd rather people think that I am mourning my father rather than showcase the vile disdain and hatred that is glistening in my eyes.

I sit rigid as I try to tune out the priest rambling about my father. Making him sound like a good man who gave back to the community, when in reality. He was nothing but a low-life scoundrel who fed off other people's misery.

My father doesn't deserve to have his final farewell service in a church. I'm surprised the building hasn't burst into flames already.

There just aren't enough prayers or fucks given to prevent my old man's sou