CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
2000 – LLC Me
The rest of our discussion was very interesting. Hopeton told me he’d like to start flipping real estate with me. He said if we could put advance feelers out now and get our paperwork together quickly, he was pretty sure we could sell close to one property a month.
I was very focused on everything he was laying out.
“I think we should concentrate on Canarsie, Flatlands and East Flatbush,” he explained. “There won’t be that much competition with other speculators, because first off, ” he ticked off one finger, “most people don’t care about those areas. And secondly,” he ticked off another finger, “We’ll be concentrating on off market properties only, and mainly commercial or semi-commercial properties that people we know- or people of people- are trying to get rid of without putting a lot of money into the property.”
“So, do this without a real estate license, cash payment and only within our circle?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
“Well, really within your circle,” I admitted. I didn’t know people in Canarsie or Flatlands like that- certainly no one who was looking to pay cash for a parking garage or a falling down house.
“Don’t worry about all that,” Hopeton advised. “I have a plan for how it can work out for both of us, separately and as partners. First thing you need to do is get yourself an LLC. I already have one.”
I nodded. My father could take care of that for me in a millisecond. He’d be thrilled to do so.
“And you and I get an LLC for our company,” Hopeton continued. “We can call it something simple like S-T Real Estate Group.”
We hashed out a lot of the details that night- who does what, how will our deal structure work- all the type of stuff I could run by my father when I asked him about the LLC.
By the time we were finished, we’d been sitting in that bar for over four hours- it felt like forty minutes. This was exactly the opportunity I’d been hoping for, without even realizing it.
I let Hopeton know I’d be getting in touch with my father to get my LLC paperwork going and would keep him apprised of my progress.
Hopeton asked me where I parked. “I’ll walk you to your car.” I told him the Mercedes was on Lincoln between Flatbush and Bedford.
“Oh, that’s the block I live on,” he replied. “I own the big, blue Victorian on the left-hand side. Perhaps I should’ve offered you to park in my driveway.”
His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
I shook my head.
Badman For Life Hopeton Silva was a prosperous Prospect Lefferts Garden property owner and he hardcore son’d me by letting me circle the block twenty times looking for a parking space on a Sunday.
I needed to catch the fuck up!
