CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
2010 - Capicú Part III
After dinner, the four of us grabbed a big table outside by the pool, close to the bar. Kompas was playing on the patio sound system. The beer was ice cold. Dominoes was in effect.
Bwa immediately started shit talking about how he was going to school all of us. I translated for Hopeton, who immediately took it as a personal challenge.
“Pa pale kaka!” Hopeton threw back at Bwa.
“Okay, bro,” Bwa replied.
We all laughed. It was gonna be one of those nights.
“N’ap jwe pou lajan?” Édo asked.
“Nah. No gambling,” I said. “Let’s keep it peaceful tonight. You don’t want a repeat of the ass-whipping I handed out in Miami. $750 USD is a lot of gourdes.”
Then we got into the game. We didn’t bother playing partners and didn’t keep score. Just straight-up, every man for himself bones.
Bwa wasn’t exaggerating- he was a beast. He swept, like, the first five games effortlessly.
“This is just like PanStar!” I lobbed at Hopeton, joking but not really.
“You see, Cabrón, you can find a little bit of home wherever you go,” he replied.
“Speaking of home,” I said, “Édo- how strong are your contacts down here these days?”
“C’mon, Pierre,” Édo laughed. “Ou Ayisyen! Ou konnen. All it is down here is contacts. It just depends on what you’re trying to get into.”
“Nothing crazy,” I clarified. Then I looked at Hopeton and asked him if he wanted to jump in and explain.
Hopeton shook his head and told me to continue.
I called for another round of beers, then shuffled the dominoes in preparation for a new game.
“Hopeton and I are trying to work something out that has to do with money changers,” I began.
Édo looked perfectly relaxed, but I could tell he was all ears.
I gave a very basic outline- we were trying to find out the flow of the street-level money changing business. Jacmel was not in the running for a base of operations, but we figured it would be a good place to observe and maybe pick up a few pointers. If we could connect with either a crew boss or someone who was the point of contact between the money source and the street distribution pipeline, then we’d feel like our visit was a success from a research standpoint.
Édo held a single finger up, and then was quiet for five minutes. It was a very “Hopeton as Bond villain” moment.
Bwa, the only person in our group who didn’t speak English, could tell we were deep in the middle of a business discussion that didn’t concern him and, as hired muscle, he did what he was paid to do- he sat there and waited for us to get back to the game.
Once our fresh round of Prestiges showed up, Édouard snapped out of his silence and everyone started drinking. Édo downed half his beer in one gulp, reached for his iPhone and started scrolling through his contacts.
“Okay, I got it,” he confirmed. “We have at least two more days here, no?”
I nodded.
“Alright, we’re going to get on it tomorrow,” Édo replied. “I’ll start making some calls in the morning.”
Then he turned to Bwa and said, “Pa bwè twòp aswè a. Demen fòk ou klè.”
Hopeton looked at Édo for a minute then turned to me, quizzically.
“He told Bwa not to get too fucked up tonight because we need him to be on point tomorrow,” I translated.
Hopeton smiled, gave Bwa a pound, then thumped his chest, right above his heart.
“Okay,” Édo called, “whose turn is it to wash the tiles?”
Hopeton reached out and shuffled the dominoes. He wasn’t gonna let Bwa be the only winner.
