At the top of the year, I took a quick trip to Panama to see if Bolo had any plans for the first quarter.
“I’m breaking ground on a new shopping center right outside of the business district,” he informed me.
“That’s very exciting for you, but I was asking about your plans for PanStar,” I replied.
Bolo raised his eyes upwards, as if I were trying his patience.
“I am not trying to box you into a corner, Rafael,” I began. “But if this dry spell is going to continue for the foreseeable future, then I’d just prefer to close up shop until you’re willing to pivot to something else.”
By this time, I felt like we’d been having the same discussion for years, and to no avail.
“I’m working on connecting to a new supply, but it’s going slower than I’d like,” Bolo said.
And that was it.
I left Panama City with no greater clarity than when I’d arrived.
Back in Brooklyn, I couldn’t see any logic in sitting around an empty shop, so I took to the streets. New Hopeton Bank was open for business again. But instead of floating long-term, high dollar loans, I slipped back into flipping smaller amounts. It kept me busy and mobile.
I needed a distraction.
The kids were still in my periphery- Bolo had managed to keep PanStar supplied with just enough product to keep them occupied with a decent amount of weekly errands. Cabrón and Mundo were still passing through each Friday to collect their pay. Olmando would bounce in, all hot air and noise, then leave quickly, off to go deal with something or another. Pierre would usually stay behind for a bit, filling me in on all of the goings on over at HQ. I was still sticking to my hands-off policy, and from what I gathered from Pierre’s intel, it was better for me to keep it that way.
It sounded like Mundo was putting the hidden compartments in his Volvo to use- Pierre said he’d started to find his own sources of product and was successfully dealing out of HQ. From what I could gather, it was mainly weed, with small amounts of heroin and coke interspersed. And I'm sure that some of Bolo's product was finding its way into that apartment, or perhaps Far Rock was in effect, but it was not my business.
None of this was surprising to me, in any way. I’d known from the start that Biz and Lucci’s phone card scheme was just a cover. They’d actually gotten the whole thing off the ground, but it never was a smashing success. I’d see dribs and drabs of money from it here and there- nothing worth mentioning, really.
And every time Olmando would stop by to break me off a little piece of change, it was easy to see he thought he’d outgrown his tío’s operation. He no longer had any interest in being out on the road dealing with money like an errand boy. Why would he want to do that, when he could lamp up in HQ and play junior kingpin?
I felt bad for the kid, because he was too immature and sheltered to realize how truly fucked up things could get.
The whole set-up at HQ was messy and I wasn't happy with it.
But I knew it would sort itself out without my involvement.
