It was April, and change was in the air. Bolo had been glued to the television, scanning for updates on the Noriega trial. He told me in confidence that he planned to drag his whole family back to their home in Panama City the second a guilty verdict was reached. That was my signal to finally sit down with Prentiss and get guidance on how to properly staff my newly expanded wholesale import empire.
True, Bolo had shown me the lay of the land. But I knew things would have to evolve from there. And there was no way around it- putting my own people in place would help ensure my success. Ever since the day Téo offered me the chance to run PanStar in Bolo’s absence, I’d spent a lot of time thinking about his subtle warning: Now Hopeton, would you really want to inherit someone else’s employees?
I decided that leaving Bolo’s middle managers and accounting team in place would be fine. Probably a smart move, even. They already had functioning systems in place- no sense in cleaning house and trying to rebuild from the ground up. Even if they were skimming, they already knew how to do it so as not to get rumbled by Bolo. And what did I care, really, if Bolo’s share of such an enormous fortune was slimmed down a little, here and there?
But the most important reason to let them all stay was optics- these were Bolo’s people, the ones he dealt with on the regular. Keeping them in place would make it seem like I wasn’t rocking the boat. I knew I needed to make changes to the way things were running from the port to the kingpins. I’d already mapped out a way to effectively streamline and reinforce the supply pipeline, and I knew I could do it without Bolo noticing. Men like Bolo never cared what went on under the hood. Street-level maneuvers didn’t concern them. It was front office shake-ups that made them nervous.
And it was clear to me that I would be running a shadow organization, one embedded within the existing PanStar concern. And I never wanted to be in this position, ever again.
I needed to be free.
With all those heavy thoughts on my mind, I drove my Volvo over to Clarendon Collision. It was early on a Wednesday afternoon, the slowest day of the week. I knew Prentiss would be there- he was very hands on with his shop, same as I was with PanStar.
When I entered, Prentiss was near the front of the garage, showing one of his junior mechanics how to properly fit a custom spoiler onto the back of a champagne colored Infiniti.
“Hopeton!” he hailed me up. “Long time mi nuh see yuh. Take a seat in my office.”
I held up a six pack of Dragon Stout, to show that I’d come bearing gifts, then made my way back to Prentiss’s little office at the back of the garage. I sat down at his desk.
While I waited, I popped open a bottle of stout and tried to keep my mind a cool, grey blank slate.
Prentiss was the one person I could count on to help me work through the next steps in my trajectory. Clarendon Collision had the same purpose as my original Black Star Shipping & Logistics operation: it was a legitimate business with highly competent employees equipped to provide a necessary service for a hard-working clientele. Despite the legitimate nature of his shop, Prentiss did frequently come into contact with customers looking to scam insurance companies and drug dealers who wanted their whips modified with hidden compartments, similar to how I had to look the other way when people like Miss Allona tried to get creative with the packing declaration on their shipping barrel.
I considered Prentiss a peer, businesswise, and a mentor when it came to experience. And Prentiss was the only person who did not need anything from me. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of me. He had no need for my particular skillset, and he had more money than I did. He was the only successful person I knew who could give me solid advice from a position of true neutrality.
Prentiss strode into his office and sat across from me.
“Whagwan, Hopeton? Everything cool?” he asked.
I handed him a bottle. He uncapped it with his teeth and took a sip.
“Everything cool, man,” I confirmed. “I’m ready to trade in my Volvo for a next level ride.”
“Yeah? Already?” Prentiss asked. “You must really be making moves with that white man.”
“Something like that,” I agreed. “That white man’s about to head back home, as soon as they throw the book at Noriega. And then I’ll be running things in Brooklyn.”
“So, time for a new ride,” Prentiss said. “What do you have in mind?”
“I want a newer model BMW,” I replied. “1989 or 1990, I think.”
“Leather interior? Top of the line stereo?”
I nodded.
“What color are you thinking?” Prentiss asked.
“Midnight blue,” I stated. “Only midnight blue.”
“Uptown vibes for my Vineyard Town bredren,” he joked.
“Well, I’m going to be able to take less of a street facing role soon, if you know what I mean.”
Prentiss nodded, his face expressionless, as he waited for me to continue.
I cracked open another Dragon Stout, buying a moment of pause. It went against my nature to speak to anyone this openly but I decided to just let the moment carry. And whatever poured out of my mouth- so be it.
“When the white man leaves, I’ll be the last man standing,” I confirmed.
Prentiss continued to wait for me to get to the point.
“I’ve been managing the front end of his business, and it’s been going fine.”
“I figured as much, since I haven’t seen you in months. You’re not even coming around to pick up money anymore,” he interjected.
“Yes, I’ve left my street banking ways behind for now. But that’s not the important part of why I’m here today. I’ll get back to that part of the story and fill you in on that end of things,” I promised.
I rapped my knuckles against Prentiss’s desk. Lightly. Twice.
“I’ve been spending all of my time, lately, trying to figure out if I really want to take on this man’s system. Like I said, I knew everything from the pick-up to the doling out- and now Boss man’s decided it’s time I familiarize myself with the full scope of the enterprise. Product, transportation, muscle, routes, paperwork. All of it.”
Prentiss was all caught up. He knew exactly what I’d been up to.
“How big is the set-up?” he asked.
“For the type of thing you and I would ever want to be responsible for, it’s massive,” I replied.
Prentiss held his hands up and waved them in front of me.
“You know that’s not me, bredren,” he said. “Mi nuh ramp with that shit. I don’t even like modding out dem likkle drug dealer’s rides fi dem. That’s as far as I go.”
“Yes, yes, I know, Prentiss,” I agreed. “You’re on the right side. But what I mean is, the scale of it- someone like you or me, they could handle it. But someone like you and me, they should also have enough sense to say no.”
Prentiss nodded.
“But I can’t say no,” I said. “I need to do this because it’s going to get me where I need.”
Now Prentiss shook his head.
“Alright, mek wi talk,” I said, finally getting down to brass tacks. “I’m not asking you to come in with me on this. I just need your ear. You’re going to understand how to help me solve some of my immediate labor and logistics problems. And once I’m up and running, I can throw so many of dem likkle drug dealer bwoys your way, you gonna be begging me to stop.”
From there, I walked Prentiss through all of my transportation and staffing needs. And like I’d expected, he was able to help me clearly route my strategy for each.
I needed to source the following
· A local trucking company that owned a small fleet of unmarked box trucks- they would be responsible for pick-ups at the port and drop-off at PanStar
· A local livery or delivery company that owned a small fleet of unmarked Econoline vans- they would be responsible for collecting product from PanStar and delivering it to various points across the tri-state area
· A solid crew of reliable, readily available drivers to make smaller pickups and drop-offs and other errands, as needed
· Muscle. Enforcers. Tight, tight security, for my assurity.
“I know a Suriname man who owns the trucks,” Prentiss said. “He’s based in Cypress Hills. I’ll link you as soon as I can.”
“That’s along the lines of what I was hoping,” I replied. “I don’t want the same crew of Jam Dung badman rolling up to Port Newark every week. Indian man slips under the radar cleaner. And the vans?”
“This one you’ll approve of,” Prentiss laughed. “I have a Puerto Rican bredren out in Williamsburg who owns a whole fleet of vans.”
I nodded approvingly and gave a thumbs up.
“He even has a few that are done up to look like airport ride-share vans or something a bunch of girls would hire for a bachelorette night. Perfect cover.”
“I do like having options,” I agreed.
“The kids to drive are easy to line up,” Prentiss told me.
“But I don’t want them to be too young and I definitely can’t afford to have them be stupid,” I said.
“Maybe kids is the wrong word,” Prentiss agreed. “But I have some responsible young men in mind for you. Give me a few days and I’ll set up some meets. We can take care of everything here.”
“And the muscle,” I prompted. “The muscle is the most important piece of this puzzle. I’d prefer to not rush it. Boss man’s not set to depart for good until this summer, so we have some time on it.”
“I know you’re going to make this a success,” Prentiss stated. “You’re getting rid of all of the people who’ve been carrying the white man and you’re putting your own soldiers in place.”
“And I’m letting all the front office, paper pusher types stay,” I replied. “That will keep him distracted from all the changes I’m planning to put into effect.”
Well, I-dren,” Prentiss said, “if I were willing to go down this path, I’d be proud to walk it with you. You’re gonna be fine. Just don’t stay on the road too long. Branch off when you can.”
“Ah no worry,” I replied. “This is not a forever thing.”
