Mundo managed to hold off on approaching me any further after he got back from Guyana. But then, in August he turned back up, like a bad penny.
“Hey,” he said one day, while passing through to drop off some cash. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Biz appeared at the front of the shop. I buzzed him in.
“You, too?” I asked. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Mundo jumped right to it. “My father told me you’re going down to deal with Bolo. While you’re there, why don’t you get him to give us money for our own HQ?”
“Did I not tell you to come back with a business plan, Olmando?”
“What for, though?” Mundo asked.
I shot him a look. “Seriously!” he protested.
This kid was unrelenting.
“Look, Olmando, I'm not going to ask Bolo for startup money for you guys unless you show me what the hell you're doing and how it helps PanStar. We're not going to give you money just to give you money. What’s the plan?”
“I already told you what we’re doing,” he continued. “Biz told you what we’re doing. What more do you need?”
“Numbers,” I replied. “Line items. Profit margins. Timelines. A plan.”
Mundo scoffed at that.
“Okay, fine,” I relented. “Here’s a pen and paper. Just write everything out while I watch.”
Mundo leaned over the counter, laboring over the document for twenty-five minutes. Biz, hanging over his shoulder, added in his two cents every so often.
At the end of the exercise, Mundo exclaimed, “Toma!” and slid the paper towards me.
I picked it up.
“What is this?” I asked. “A thousand dollars a month for rent?”
Mundo nodded.
“Are you planning to set up shop in Brooklyn Heights?” I laughed.
Mundo kept his mouth shut.
“Two laptops, a high-definition scanner and a laser printer,” I read out loud.
Biz nodded.
“Fifteen hundred for miscellaneous software and a two-thousand dollar furniture budget?” I laughed, incredulous.
Mundo revised his rent request down to eight hundred dollars and told me he’d hit his mother up for furniture.
“But everything else is exactly what we need,” he stated. “Non-negotiable.”
I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my hand.
“It seems like you have big plans,” I said. “What does this mean for your tío’s ongoing concerns? You do have responsibilities here.”
“I swear that me and Biz’s thing won’t get in the way of my day-to-day responsibilities,” Mundo said. “Bolo’s work is first priority!”
I shot him another look.
“Always and forever,” he swore, and held up the index and middle fingers on his right hand, in some sort of pledge.
“And is Cabrón involved in this?” I asked.
“Brón is always involved,” Mundo replied. “But this isn’t really his lane. Biz and I are on top of it.”
“And Luciano,” I stated, not asked.
Mundo and Biz both nodded.
“And what’s the projected profit margin on this?” I asked. “I noticed you forgot to add that information to your business plan.”
“There is so much money to be made, Hopeton!” Mundo improvised. “But we can’t give you a number until we’re up and running.”
“Yeah,” Biz chimed in. “We need to see how it goes. But if the Africans can make money doing it, I’m sure we can make our own fair share, too.”
“And Biz,” I asked, “what do you know about financial projections?”
“I'm just the numbers guy,” Biz said. “I can tell you how I can get it done. I'm not worried about the profit now.”
“Okay, enough for now,” I told them. “I’ll think about what you’ve told me. Go take care of your work.”
It was clear to me that Mundo was trying to set up his own junior level drug dealing empire.
But maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to give Olmando a little rope to hang himself with.
As long as nobody got hurt along the way.
I ran into Pierre on my way out that evening. He looked like he’d been put through the wringer.
“How’d it go today?” I asked.
Pierre had the shit job of liaising with the mid-level posse bosses when Bolo’s supply chain woes ran downstream.
“Kinda rough,” he confirmed. “Everyone’s down to nothing and they’re all looking to us to make them right again.”
“I’m heading down to talk to Bolo in a week or two to see what I can learn on the ground out there,” I said.
“I told them all we’re doing what we can,” Pierre replied.
“That’s the best anyone can do, in this type of shit,” I told him. Then we said good-night.
As soon as I got home to Lincoln Road, I took a quick shower then headed out to my backyard.
My immigration lawyer had let me know that my sister’s visa interview date would soon be confirmed- she was in the next batch of applicants. So, I’d started expediting all of the little home improvement projects I wanted to finish up before my family arrived. The main thing left was getting the backyard properly landscaped. Lali had recommended a gardening service that she swore could work miracles, which was exactly what my sad, little lot desperately needed.
I sat out back for a few minutes, pleased with the progress the landscaping crew was making.
