CHAPTER SIX
1999 – The Hand-Over
It was in November that Mundo really began to motivate himself to tell me what he really needed from me once he dipped. I could tell he was ready, so I asked for a sit-down.
I said we should meet over at PanStar. At this point, I’d been staying in a crappy, little apartment on the top of the building that housed PanStar so for once I figured why not make it easy on myself and consolidate- we could sit down with Hopeton and discuss hand-over details, then Doe and I could go somewhere and talk about things that didn’t involve Hopeton, such as HQ and the garage in Brownsville.
I made sure to get with Hopeton prior to Doe’s arrival- I wanted to get his take on what things should look like, best case scenario, once it was just the two of us. I knew there was certain info he’d never give up, but we had a good relationship and I wanted to give us both a chance to speak our minds before potential chaos entered the room.
I went downstairs to PanStar about an hour and a half before Mundo was scheduled to show up. Hopeton punched in the code to the back room and we took our usual seats- Hopeton behind the big mahogany desk, me facing him. The Mighty Diamonds were on the sound system, singing about “natty dread will never run away.”
“Oh, I forgot something,” Hopeton said and quickly stood back up. He walked over to a small pantry closet, grabbed a simple glass bottle and two highball glasses.
“I picked up this bottle of chirrisco when I was with Bolo last month,” he said as he poured two fingers into each glass.
Hopeton raised his glass and said, “Cheers, ‘Brón. Things are opening up- let’s make this happen.”
I raised my glass in return, then tossed back the shot. The Panamanian firewater burned my throat and warmed my guts as it worked its way down.
Hopeton and I covered a lot of ground, wrapped our strategy session and moved over to the tv area. By the time Mundo arrived, thirty minutes late as per usual, that’s where he found us- chilling on the couch, drinking beers and watching futból.
Mundo blew in just in time for the final five minutes of the match, making an obvious attempt at throwing a heavy dose of positive vibes and brotherhood our way.
Hopeton pointedly held his wrist up and looked at his watch. I took a sip off of my Prestige.
Mundo knew Hopeton and I were sick of his chronic disregard for punctuality. Especially now, when we were trying to help him get everything transitioned before he moved over to Panama. He smiled at us both and said his mother sent her love. The reason he was late, he said, was because he had to stop by to talk to her for a minute and got caught up.
We kept the meeting casual, the three of us grouped around the tv. Really, it was Mundo’s show. He was supposed to be the one to tell us what he needed. Let him lead.
We all drank beers and ran down the handover list.
Hopeton would continue to be Bolo’s eyes and ears- nothing changing there.
I would start working closer with Hopeton to make sure the errand routes were properly divvied up and staffed.
Biz was making progress on figuring out the EBT scheme- I was to bring Hopeton in as needed, if needed.
Now that Mundo was gonna be in Panama, there might be possibility to diversify product- but Doe left that as a big grey area. I think he was talking about pills, but who the fuck knows? Maybe guns, the way things were going with him.
Basically, shit was staying the same, but minus Mundo. And you know what? In the long run, that would make life easier for me and Hopeton.
After Mundo went through everything, he and I said good-bye to Hopeton and climbed two steep flights upstairs.
My apartment was a shitty mini studio- a small kitchen/living area and a sleeping alcove. The bathroom barely had room for a tub. Mundo and I sat at the card table I was using as a dining table- he looked around the room and shook his head.
“Bro. First off,” he began, “I want you to take over my apartment in Clinton Hill. You gotta get out of this fucking place. It’s a dump.”
“Why, though?” I asked. I mean, yeah- the place was a dump but I wanted to know why Mundo wanted me to move into the apartment he was currently living in. It was in a small building that his parents owned on Clermont Avenue, over in Clinton Hill, and it was definitely an upgrade, but I needed to see if there was an ulterior motive behind this offer.
Again- Doe was my best friend and I loved the guy, but even when he legitimately thought he was doing something from the goodness of his heart, once you analyzed it there was always something self-serving behind the offer.
“It just makes sense. I move out, you move in. What’s the big deal?”
I shrugged, seemingly in agreement. Positive vibes and brotherhood.
Mundo continued.
“Anyway, it’s better to have you in Clinton Hill. You’re too in the mix over here on Nostrand- it’s too visible. And you really don’t wanna be living directly over PanStar. That’s like taking your work home with you.”
There it was. He didn’t want me in the middle of everything. Partially for optics, no doubt- someone on my level needs to have a nice apartment, out of the mix. But, the other part- the one that set off alarms- was I got the vibe that Mundo didn’t want me and Hopeton to get too close. But there wasn’t much he could do about that, once he was gone.
Also, knowing this kid as well as I did, it was obvious why he stopped by his mom’s before heading to PanStar. Doe wanted to double-triple check with Mrs. Henriques that it was cool to give me the apartment. He definitely wanted to lock that in.
Technically, I was already living in an apartment Mundo’s family controlled- Tío Bolo owned the building, but The Heir’s name was on the deed. And I was sure that once Mundo left the country, they’d transfer it to Mundo’s parents. Keeping the assets moving, throughout the extended family- that was the name of the game.
“What else is on the table, Doe?” I asked.
With that, he quickly skimmed through a list of things that deserved extremely detailed attention.
Lean on Biz and Lucci to figure that EBT shit out. Don’t let them leave all of Biz’s laptops and paperwork lying all over HQ. Make him bring it to Eula’s. She can be the stash for the EBT shit.
Have Lucci take over HQ. Make sure he gathers a crew of young’ns to flip product and collect EBT cards and food stamps. Give him and Biz a few months to get their pans together and if it falls apart, have Hopeton pull the plug on HQ by June.
Give Eula $300 every other week and make sure she’s got just enough dope to keep her going. We were going to need her apartment as back-up in case we have to shut down shop at HQ.
Sell the Volvo and wire half the money to Mundo’s bank account. Take my half and put it towards a down-payment on that Mercedes ML430 that I’d had my eye on.
Keep the garage open. And don’t bring Hopeton into it.
“Keep the garage open? What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean,” Doe said, “I need you to keep the garage open. I need you to keep it stocked with inventory and I need you to make the sales.”
“Wait. You really expect me to run a whole fuckin’ sideline in weapons sales out of Brownsville?”
Doe nodded.
“That’s not gonna happen, bro,” I said flatly. “Once you leave for Panama I am done with Brownsville, Bee, and I mean it.”
“’Brón,” Mundo replied, “I need you to keep it running. Just keep it running until end of June. Then you can shut down shop and I’ll let you turn it into a parking garage.”
I agreed that I’d help him keep a skeleton operation going- no new clients, no heavy artillery. Just sell off the stock we currently had in place- that should last us about six months- then pull the plug.
“And don’t bring Hopeton into this,” Doe reminded me.
We shook on it.
But this just confirmed my realization that the only thing left to do was to align with Hopeton fully- or apply to grad school.
