By November, I’d run Pierre through this same Brooklyn to Newark routine multiple times, until one day I told him to lock up PanStar and go get his car.
He looked at his watch.
“But it’s two o’clock in the afternoon!” he said, surprised.
“I know it is,” I replied. “Go pull your car around front. I’ll go get mine. Just follow me and stay close.”
He started to head off.
“Wait, come back!” I called. “This is for you,” I said, handing him a pager and a slip of paper with the pager number written on it. “Do not give this number to anyone, not even Mundo,” I cautioned. “This is for Port business only.
We met up on Nostrand Avenue and drove off.
I played Barrington Levy at top volume all the way out to Port Newark, Pierre never more than two cars’ length behind me.
At the port, it was the usual routine- show identification and get waved through.
I had Pierre follow me to the far end of a massive parking lot, where we’d wait for my contact. I called Pierre over to my car and told him to get in. We sat waiting, Barrington Levy taking the edge off our silence.
Forty-five minutes later, my day-time contact approached the car. I got out, and motioned for Cabrón to join me.
I shook hands with my contact, a union steward named Jeffery, and handed him a leather portfolio full of hundred-dollar bills. In exchange, Jeffery handed me a file folder, thick with paperwork.
“Jeffery, I want to introduce you to Pierre,” I said, pushing Pierre towards my contact. “He’s going to be taking over a lot of my day runs.”
Pierre shook hands with the union steward.
“Here’s his pager number,” I continued.
I carefully wrote out Pierre’s number on the back of a PanStar business card and handed it to Jeffery.
“And whenever you need to get in touch with me, I’m always around. I just need to take a little bit of the driving off my plate,” I explained.
Back at PanStar, it was payday.
By now, the kids had been working for me for nearly a year, so payday was a long-established ritual. Olmando, no matter where he was, would make his way back to Nostrand Avenue to pick up his weekly envelope stuffed with cash. Usually, he’d stick around to give Cabrón a hard time and then spend a few minutes catching up with me, hoping I’d give up some “word on the street” type gossip or tip him off to some upcoming business deals, but that never happened.
Mundo’s base pay had remained unchanged since his first day as PanStar stock boy, but once he started driving, I gave him an additional five hundred dollars a week for gas money.
On this day, Mundo let me know he’d found a friend to ride around with him.
“He said he’s cool riding post with me all day,” Mundo said. “But what about his money? He’s gonna need to get paid something for watching my back while I’m driving for you.”
“That’s nice you found yourself a partner,” I replied. “You really shouldn’t be out there by yourself. And don’t forget to break your friend off some of your gas money. You got your own employee now, I guess.”
I could tell Mundo was not amused, and there was no doubt in my mind that he would successfully scheme up a way to make Bolo cover the difference.
After Olmando had gone, I handed Pierre his envelope.
“You’re getting a raise,” I said.
Cabrón’s new weekly salary was $250 more than Mundo’s total pay and gas stipend.
“And if you talk to anyone about the money I give you, even Mundo- especially Mundo,” I warned, “I will toss you out on your ass.”
Pierre nodded and ripped into his envelope.
Then, out of the blue, Mundo was standing outside of PanStar again, ringing the buzzer to be let back in.
“Yes?” I asked. “Did you forget something?”
“Actually, I did,” Mundo agreed. “I need you to take me to your guy, Prentiss.”
“Now why would I do that?” I asked.
“So, he can trick out my ride with some false bottoms and hidden compartments,” he replied- like, how could I not know that was the reason?
“Really now,” I said. “What do you need anything like that for?”
“Uhhh, you have me on the road all the time, Hopeton!” Mundo, said. As if I’d forced him into that position. “Trust me, I need it.”
And that’s how I knew Mundo was up in some shit. Or about to be.
“Okay, Mundo,” I agreed. “If that’s what you want, I’ll take you over to Prentiss’s. You’re more than welcomed to put money in my friend’s wallet.”
“A’ight, bet! Let’s go now!”
Pierre agreed to mind the store while I followed Mundo out to Utica.
As I made a left turn onto Empire Boulevard, I remembered what I’d told Prentiss all those years ago.
“Once I’m up and running, I can throw you so many of dem likkle drug dealer bwoys, you gonna be begging me to stop.”
