CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
2000- Map Of The Stars
‘Brón and I got back to my apartment a little after 9pm. When Biz walked in, he found the two of us standing at the breakfast bar, finishing up a platter of loaded nachos and sipping bottles of Jarritos jamaica sodas.
“Hey,” he said, cautiously, and leaned in to dap ‘Brón up.
“Hey, Biz,” I said. “Want a beer?”
He nodded, and I headed to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Dos Equis. I didn’t even bother to ask no fun Cabrón if he wanted to join us.
After that, it was time to strategize my EBT courier routine. Cabrón and I stood next to each other on one side of the counter, waiting to see what Biz had come up with.
Biz busted out his laptop, opened an Excel sheet, then launched Internet Explorer and clicked over to MapQuest.
“Okay, so this is what I came up with,” Biz said, and paused to take a gulp of beer. He swiveled the laptop towards us. ‘Brón leaned over me, trying to get a closer look at the screen. His cologne smelled of bay rum with a hint of vetiver. I probably smelled like eau de bike shop with a hint of sour cream.
“So, here’s how it’s gonna go down each month, if things run smoothly,” Biz explained.
He then walked us through the following work-flow:
Most cards get their balances reset around the first week of the month.
Biz would spend two weeks collecting cards and food stamp booklets, checking balances on the cards, discarding cards with zero balances, etc.
He’d sort the cards out by delivery destination and pack each into a medium sized nylon camping pouch. Each camping pouch would be a different color. He’d pack it all up into a big backpack and bring it to my crib no more than three days before I was set to make the drops.
I’d get a list of stores to go to. The list should remain more or less consistent each month, but there would for sure be some additions or subtractions. But for the most part, the route should remain fairly fixed. And barring a ridiculously rapid growth spurt, this sized would be a once-a-month run- but there may be a few one-off drop-offs, every so often.
At each store, as soon as I entered, I’d go and grab a D&G ginger beer. That’s the signal that I’m the EBT courier and not just some random white girl who got lost on her way to the Brooklyn Heights promenade.
The guy behind the counter will flash me his nylon bag.
“Then you’ll check the color, go into your bag, and boom! You’ll hand him the same color bag and take his bag. Drop-off complete,” Biz finished.
I noticed that Cabrón was nodding his head throughout Biz’s presentation.
“A’ight Biz, you did your thing,” Brón agreed. “This is doable.”
Biz looked relieved.
“BUT,” Brón cautioned, “do NOT be bringing random heads over here to conduct your business. And do NOT start dropping the backpack off weeks in advance and then keep on adding to it. Store that shit somewhere else until right before Eula needs to head out. Got it?”
“I got it. No problem,” Biz promised.
“Okay, I’ll come check you tomorrow over at HQ,” Brón said, dismissing Biz. “Eula and I have some stuff we need to discuss.”
Biz said goodnight and headed out.
Once he was gone, Cabrón locked the apartment door then walked over to my couch and sat down.
I stood in the kitchen, trying to figure out where this was heading.
“You got any new DVDs?” he asked me.
Then he said, “Grab me a Heineken, if you got one.”
He knew I didn’t.
