CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
2008 - Next Plateau
Hopeton sighed.
That one little action, dropped into this particular conversation, definitely caught my attention.
Hopeton rarely sighed- he considered it an old man’s habit, and constantly gave Biz, the King of Sighs, shit for it.
I watched as he stood up and headed towards the mini-fridge. Apparently, this was gonna be a painful moment for both of us.
Hopeton came back with two beers and handed one to me. He then walked over to his desk and pulled out a bottle of Rhum Barbancourt.
“Cinq Etoile?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Is this going to be a heavy discussion?”
“Only if you make it one,” he replied, then poured a double sized shot into a highball glass. “What do you want to know, Pierre?”
This was obviously a case of “closed mouths don’t get fed.” Time to show my hand.
“Yes, Hopeton,” I repeated. “I am bored as fuck and I want to know what’s going on here.”
I could tell that Hopeton was not in the mood to humor me with this. It would’ve been so much easier for him if I were willing to remain ensconced in my good boy era. But we both knew that wasn’t gonna happen.
“What do you want to know?”
“I wanna know what’s going on!” I knew I sounded like a little kid, but I did not care. At all. “You’re a wire transfer now- fine! But we’ve gone through drugs, we’ve gone through guns and now we’re on money? What does that mean? And Bolo’s gone. Is Mundo involved in this? Or are you and Biz just out here alone, chilling, using Mundo’s resources without cutting him in?”
Hopeton let me run my mouth as long as it took me to get it all out.
“Ou fini?” he asked me, when I finally closed my trap.
Hopeton throwing Kreyol at me said a lot. It showed he’d been paying attention to what I’d wanted him to learn, and that now was the time for me to extend the same courtesy.
“Wi,” I replied, half sulkily, half embarrassed. “M’ap koute.” I grabbed the bottle of rum off the coffee table and poured myself a huge shot. I decided not to worry about how I’d be getting home.
“Listen,” Hopeton began. “This wire transfer business is purely a paperwork play for now.”
I kept my mouth shut, as promised, but indulged myself in a bit of an eyeroll. Hopeton did not rise to the bait.
“There’s nothing I need from you directly, at the moment,” he continued. “I need you to concentrate on getting off supervised release, keeping your job with Mundo’s father and helping me and Biz out with the real estate work. Other than that, I need you to just play back and take it easy.”
That last sentence was said extremely pointedly, but in a very dry, understated tone.
“Seriously?” I asked. It was hard to believe there wasn’t a substrata of activity under this sweet cream layer of calm that Hopeton was trying to get me to swallow.
“Okay, Pierre,” Hopeton replied. “This is what I need from you, currently.”
I leaned back. My head was starting to spin.
“I need you to focus on project managing for S-T. I’m the finance and strategy, Biz is the bureaucrat. I need you to make sure that we’re getting these deals through on time with as little money spent as possible.”
“So, like, be out in the field, yelling at contractors?” I asked. That veered a little too closely to Mundo’s lane. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach that role for too long.
“Not yelling, Pierre,” Hopeton said. “Managing. I need you at each property, making sure permits are straight, signing off on repairs. Making sure we are running correctly. That’s what I need from you.”
Hopeton saw the look on my face.
“What?” His tone was sharp. I knew we were finally about to get to the heart of the matter.
“You asked what I need and I’m telling you what I need. And this is what you need, Pierre. Mundo is going to come calling soon, and I’m going to need you to say yes to him.”
Now I sighed.
“What you’re really looking for, I-dren,” Hopeton told me, “is in Panama.”
