It took me a while to understand the dynamic between Bolo and Téo. There was a ten-year age gap between the two, so at first glance, they seemed to operate on an uncle-nephew level.
But whereas I felt that Rafael Montilla always projected a strong wave of patronization towards me, he always seemed a little in awe of Téo. Deferential.
Maybe it was because Téo made it seem as if he didn’t need or want anything from the older man. Or perhaps it was because Téo had actively left Panama behind, seeking opportunity in the States, successfully cultivating a prosperous life in polite society. A thriving career that was one hundred percent aboveboard, devoid of grey areas. Bolo was only in New York because it wasn’t safe for him back home. Everything about his existence at that time was a grey area.
I wondered what it would be like to have a life that was lily white and on the up and up, where I could just pick and choose what I wanted to become, without having to try to slip in through the side entrance.
These thoughts that I was trying to puzzle out came rushing up through me- they felt uncontrollable. And also, oddly disconcerting. I’d never been one to spend time surveying other people’s emotional landscape. I preferred to keep it moving- if we’re cool, we’re cool. If I get a funny vibe, then I’ll know to keep my distance. But in 1991, Bolo and Téo were really the only people with whom I had any sustained social interaction.At that time, I felt very alone. Alone, constantly on the move, navigating an endless series of very brief dealings with a parade of strangers- an endless series of strangers- each of whom had a very different, very forceful agenda. By the time Bolo came over to PanStar to check up on things and raise a glass of rum with me, I’d be dying to see a familiar face, even if it was one that wore mirrored sunglasses indoors. And whenever Téo would invite me over to Clinton Avenue for an informal business meeting that would invariably turn into an invitation to stay for dinner, I was so happy just to feel normal for a few hours.
And then, at the end of the day I’d find myself alone in my little cell above PanStar, late at night, and my mind would wander. And I’d find myself musing over the nature of man, and the nature of the men who appeared to be in control of my destiny, for the time being at least.
I started to regain my sense of self that Fall, when Téo called me over to his house to have what he called “a little chat.”
When I arrived at the house, Téo ushered me to his study and closed the door firmly behind us.
“I take it this little chat is going to have a serious impact on my life,” I said as Téo poured me a glass of scotch, neat.
He nodded, then told me to have a seat and drink up.
“What's today's date, Hopeton?”
I glanced at my Bulova.
“September twenty-first,” I replied.
“Okay, so you've been with Bolo for a good solid nine months, now.”
I nodded. It had been nine intense months that felt like a decade’s worth of activity.
“Well, I just wanted to talk to you today because I think that Bolo is going to be able to go back to Panama by this time, next year,” Téo explained. “It might be a little bit longer, possibly quicker. But this time next year, he should be wrapping things up, if not already gone.”
“Bolo must be relieved that the end is almost in sight,” I offered.
I knew that Bolo and his wife weren’t enjoying exile in Queens. Their three daughters, on the other hand, would probably beg to differ.
“He’s not like you and me,” Téo agreed. “For a man like Bolo to be stuck in Kew Gardens, it’s like a man without a country.”
He poured himself a glass of scotch and continued.
“Bolo hasn't asked me to talk to you about this yet,” he cautioned. “To be clear, he has no idea you’re over here today, but I'm not doing this behind his back. I just want to see where your head is at.”
I smiled. That made sense. And it showed me that Téofilo Henriques preferred to get the lay of the land before making offers and closing out ledgers. It’s how I would have approached this situation if I’d been a well-educated lawyer with family-backed connections.
“I’m assuming you want to get ahead of the situation, so you know what advice to give him when you tell him you’re planning on pulling out on this once he’s gone,” I challenged.
“Yes, my friend,” Téo confirmed. “When it does come to the point where I have to help him transition his business, the structure needs to be in place- because once he's gone, I won't be involved with this business at all.”
“At all?” I asked. “You’re not even going to be the man behind the throne?”
“At all,” Téo replied. “As soon as Bolo is on that flight to Panama, I’ll be returning to my law practice full-time, with no further distractions. Because, just like Bolo- and just like you, Hopeton- I have plans for my future. And they don’t involve any type of business ventures that I’m unable to discuss in polite society.”
“Seen, Téo,” I replied. “I overstand.”
I figured it couldn’t hurt to hit him with the language of my people, seeing as how he was hitting me with the language of HIS people.
“As do I, Hopeton,” Téo bantered back, as he poured a fresh drink into my glass.
“And if you choose to stay with this business,” he continued, “then you and I will stay close friends, but I will not be your partner. I just want to make that very clear.”
I knew where this was heading, but I needed to get more information.
I kept it very clear and simple. “I couldn't even begin to start this discussion with you without your laying on the table every single thing you're thinking, what you think Bolo is thinking, and what I need to take into consideration.”
As soon as I said that out loud, I knew Téo really was able to overstand.
“Yes, my friend, let me walk you through this,” he agreed. “When Bolo leaves, he’ll be gone. He’ll revert to the supplier side of the operation. And there are a few options for how Bolo could play this. He could double-up on shipments for the short-term, strong-arm his current clients into placing larger orders, then pull out of the U.S. market. He could find someone who’s already sitting on established territory but is unhappy with their supplier. Or he could allow you to pick up the full weight of the slack he’ll leave behind.”
Téo looked at me and shrugged. “You could slide into his role. If you want that role.”
“The bigga boss,” I said under my breath. But Téo caught the words.
“Yes, indeed,” he agreed. “The bigga boss with the bigger workforce, the bigger payroll, the bigger headaches. Do you want that?”
“I don’t really have an option,” I replied. “I can’t just become someone’s employee. I can’t reset the clock and turn PanStar back to a small shipping barrel service. My only forward-thinking option is to figure out the missing pieces of the supply chain and run this rasclot operation myself.”
Téo gave a small yawn. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“I see what the holes are and they’re mostly issues of manpower,” I mused. “Right now, Bolo’s controlling the pickups- manpower, vehicles, everything. Once he’s gone, who do I have?”
“No one,” Téo said. “You have no one.”
“I wonder if I should speak with Bolo and see if he’d let me take over that part of his system, I’m going to need to have the right people in place, and that can be tricky.”
“Now Hopeton,” Téo asked me, “would you really want to inherit someone else’s employees?”
