1990 – Pivot Number One
I was standing on the sidewalk, locking Black Star up for the night when Mrs. Alleyne approached me.
“I’m so sorry, Hopeton,” she began. “I meant to tell you I was considering putting the building up for sale, but didn’t want to worry you. This offer came out of nowhere.”
She looked genuinely upset, with a tinge of guilt around the edges.
I told her it was fine and that I had a feeling her buyer wasn’t going to try to run me out before my lease was up.
“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Alleyne,” I reassured her. “I’m a good negotiator. I know how to hold onto what’s mine.”
She smiled and wished me a good night.
The next day, when Rafael Montilla- Bolo- arrived, I was standing in my usual spot behind the counter at Black Star, cross-checking bills of lading against invoices.
“Hola, señor,” I said once he’d been buzzed in.
“Please, Hopeton, call me Bolo,” he replied. “I have a feeling we are about to become good friends and business associates.”
I gave him a polite smile, well aware that I was standing before my new landlord and that some sort of offer was imminent. I also knew that whatever came out of this man’s mouth would be fully in service to himself, no matter how it was phrased. Any gains acquired on my end would come not from his sense of equality and fairness but via my own determination.
Business associate?
Busha Bolo.
Just like the old days.
Before Bolo had the opportunity to run his proposal, I asked a few pertinent questions to help myself level-set against whatever, if any, misinformation might fall from his lips.
“When will you and Mrs. Alleyne finalize the sale of the building?”
Within two months.
“Are you planning to fix up the upstairs apartments and get new tenants in?”
No. Bolo would have the apartments inspected and perform structural repairs as needed, but no cosmetic changes, or rent hikes were planned.
“Will my commercial lease carry over or should I expect to re-negotiate terms once you take over ownership?”
And this was the juncture at which Bolo chose to make his proffer.
