It was Thursday, July 2nd. Technically a work day, but I was still WFH. And I’d also sent my big canal expansion analysis report out a day early. No one would be checking for me, so I decided to just take it easy and monitor work emails until close of business.
My buzzer rang at 10am. Special delivery.
Even though it was in a jumbo-sized cardboard box, I knew it was the black card. Buried under layers and layers of embarrassingly high-end packing material was a heavy black box, about the size of a suitcase. I placed it on my kitchen table and undid the clasp.
Inside the black velvet lined box was one simple black credit card with my name on it: Pierre Dorvil Taveras. I was shocked to see Mundo hadn’t asked them to issue it to Pierre Cabrón Taveras- perhaps he had done some growing up recently.
I stood in my kitchen, holding the card between my thumb and pointer finger, idly tapping it against my right palm. Today would be the perfect day to break this bad boy in. After all, didn’t Olmando say his accountant wouldn’t scrutinize my monthly statements too closely?
For some reason at the moment my mind flashed back to Eula, all those years ago right after we’d called on her to work with us on Biz’s EBT scheme.
“Listen, Brón, if you guys want me to be your designated white girl courier, you’re gonna have to buy me a phat-ass mountain bike. I want a Trek.”
I remembered how fucking cool I thought that goofy girl was, that day- asking for something practical yet flashy. Something that would enable her to do her job better, and keep her looking good. Taxing us for paying her to do something wack.
I was gonna do the same thing for myself today. If Mundo needed me to be his designated face man, then he was gonna have to buy the shit I needed to get the job done properly.
I left out the house around 12:30pm, strolled over to Hopeton’s, hopped in the zo reken and steered it towards SoHo. I found a lot with an all-day parking deal and began my day of solo flexing.
First up- the Apple store, where I bought myself a new MacBook Pro with maximum memory and storage and the brand-new iPhone 3GS that just dropped two weeks earlier. One of the Apple kids helped me transfer all of my info from my old iPhone to my new one, and I was good to go.
Next stop was to the Louis Vuitton store. This was to settle an old grudge that still burned deep in my heart. Back in December of 2001, the day I got pulled over on Eastern Parkway, the cops took my favorite LV duffle bag. They said it was evidence, but it was never returned to me. And now I was at this store, with Mundo’s black card, and I was ready to reclaim what was mine.
I walked out with a Damier Daniel GM in graphite (grey was, of course, my favorite color) and a spot on the list for any incoming Monogramoflauge Keep-Alls that might surface- preferably GM sized. Once she saw my black card, the sales associate asked for my cell number and promised she’d try to pull some strings and have something for me within six weeks.
Last stop was Restaurant Felix, on West Broadway, where I was shown to a two -seater table towards the back of the room. I ordered a glass of Chablis, a Salade Niçoise and some Pâté de Campagne.
As soon as the wine arrived, I pulled out the black card and placed it on the table. I positioned the wine glass to make sure it was close to the card’s left edge. Then I pulled out my new iPhone, opened the camera app, laid my hand on the table, palm up, next to the card’s right edge, extended my middle finger and took a picture. The image was crisp, clean and compelling.
