CHAPTER NINETEEN
2000 – LLC Me
I got a call from Mundo’s father about two weeks after the deal on the garage cleared. Mr. Henriques asked me to stop by the house that Saturday afternoon.
“I’d like to catch up with you, see how you’re doing, and thank you for the help you gave Olmando,” he said.
Mundo’s parents owned one of those big mansion-style homes on Clinton Avenue- my apartment on Clermont, the one I inherited from Mundo, in a building the Henriques family owned- was directly around the corner. I’d spent a lot of time at Mundo’s house during our high school years. Mr. and Mrs. Henriques were more like slightly distant family than my best friend’s parents.
I showed up at exactly 1:30pm- Mr. Henriques opened the door and ushered me in.
“Pierre! So good to see you,” Mr. Henriques said, as we stood in the grand entrance hall. He was dressed casually, in jogging pants and a V-neck t-shirt. “Mrs. Henriques is playing tennis in Fort Greene. She asked me to send you her love.”
I smiled and stuck out my right hand, but he pulled me in for a brief hug.
“Come in, come in!” Mr. Henriques started walking towards the kitchen. I followed behind.
We both spoke fluent Spanish, but for some reason, Mr. Henriques always defaulted to English with me. I don’t know if he lumped me in with Mundo, whose Spanish was on the weaker side, or if he saw me as an American kid first and foremost.
Mr. Henriques stopped at the refrigerator, pulled out two Red Stripes and handed me one. We continued out to the lavishly restored sun room. We sat down opposite each other, in white wicker club chairs upholstered in a splashy floral print. I pulled out a bottle opener attached to my key chain (you never know when you’re gonna need one) and cracked open both beers.
We raised our bottles.
“Salud!”
“Salud, Mr. Henriques.” I smiled. And it was a genuine smile- I liked Mr. Henriques, even though he was a touch too formal for his own good. But still, I knew there was something more than just a desire to catch up behind this request to see me…
After we got the initial pleasantries out of the way (“how are you enjoying life on Clermont Avenue?” et cetera), Mr. Henriques got to it.
“First off,” he began, “I want to thank you for helping Olmando take care of that property in Brownsville. I know you handled the entire thing yourself, with no input from my son.”
I smiled and said it was absolutely no problem, and that I knew Mundo would do the same for me, if needed.
Mr. Henriques gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes- he was fully aware of what his son’s strengths and limitations. He then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded check. He smoothed the paper out then handed it to me. It was made out to me, in the amount of $50,000.
“Your commission,” he told me. This time his smile hit his whole face, as he raised his bottle to me a second time. I returned the toast.
“So, now that that’s done, tell me about your plans, Pierre. Not with the commission,” he said, “but with life.”
I wasn’t sure how much he knew about what Mundo and Bolo had going on, or if he was aware of how closely Hopeton and I were working together on our own thing, so I decided to give a purposely vague yet semi-truthful answer.
“Well, you know,“ I began, sitting up a little straighter- those wicker chairs were very uncomfortable. “I’m working on some things that Bolo’s starting up here. And I’m doing a little bit of real estate work in Canarsie and Flatlands- that area. You know,” I finished up without further elaboration.
I’m sure that if Mr. Henriques had ever been familiar with the Canarsie/Flatlands area, his knowledge of it probably ended back in 1982.
But I also knew that he'd read between the lines and recognized that I was in business with Hopeton.
“But truth be told,” I added, mainly because it was the truth, “I’m thinking of applying to grad school for next year. I’ll start my GRE classes the Fall.”
“Smart move,” Mr. Henriques said. I could tell he was genuinely impressed. That was nice to see, because I was genuinely serious about it. “Are you considering law?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t think I could get into law school. I’m thinking more Urban Planning or International Development. Brooklyn College or NYU. I’m taking the GREs to give me a better chance of getting into NYU.”
“You’ll get into NYU,” Mr. Henriques replied. “Come to me when you need a recommendation. I’ll take care of it. But until then…” he said, changing the subject.
‘Oh boy, here comes the pivot,’ I thought, as I took a swig of beer. Sometimes I wished I could turn my brain off and stop assessing people’s every move. It was tiring, constantly being on the defensive.
“… I wanted to run something by you. An opportunity that I think would really work in your favor,” he said. I could tell he was slightly hesitant. But he plowed through the nervousness.
“How would you like to go to Panama? Mundo could really use a good friend right now- someone from home, who knows him like a brother.”
Panama with Mundo? Didn’t I just get out from under him?
“I also think it would be good for you as well,” Mr. Henriques continued. “I have a feeling Brooklyn’s getting too small for you,” he added, pointedly. “It might be good for you to spread your wings for a while, then come back here to start grad school.”
I gave a noncommittal smile. Mundo’s father could sense my apprehension.
“Well, think about it,” he said. “If you say yes, we’ll make sure you’re set up properly and well taken care of while you’re there. And if you decide not to take me up on my offer, at least promise me you’ll go down and visit Mundo for Carnavales.”
“That, I could do,” I said.
We both stood up.
I told Mr. Henriques that I’d seriously consider his offer and let him know within a week.
Then I walked around the corner, back to my comfortable apartment, the one located out of the mix.
Just as Mundo wanted it.
