Pierre had secured a prime table for our business meeting- Madiba was to him what Two Steps Down was to Téo. He knew everyone who worked there, and they all loved him.
Cabrón and Biz were both waiting for me when I arrived. Biz actually stood up to shake my hand.
“So, gentlemen,” I began, “what’s on the agenda this evening?”
Pierre jumped in.
“I filled Biz in on the fact that PanStar is pivoting.”
I tried to remain in a relaxed position with a neutral expression on my face.
“Before you go off, I just want to say we didn’t talk about anything in detail, other than the fact that this thing is going to require an intricate PO and invoicing system,” Cabrón added, utilizing vocabulary that I knew he knew would forestall my frustration.
“And before we start,” I responded, “I need to ask Biz a question.”
I turned to Biz, who’d been playing with his straw.
“Biz,” I asked. “What is your government name? If I had to write you a check who would I make it out to?”
Biz gave me a bland smile and said, “Martino Johnson.”
“Martino Johnson?” I asked, surprised. “That sounds like an alias!”
“Why do you think we call him Biz?” Pierre asked, laughing.
“I figured it was because he looks like that rapper,” I said, not joking around. “You know, that one who sings You Got What I Need. You look just like him, Biz!”
“Okay, gramps,” Biz replied. “I told you my real name- no need to clown.”
“You’re right, Biz,” I said, in a serious tone. “I apologize for the blunder. Let’s get back to why we’re all here this evening.”
I asked Biz to tell me what he knew about our new enterprise. He gave very topline information, condensed into three or four clearly enunciated sentences. Pierre had not been lying- Biz didn’t really know anything.
I then proceeded to lay out the paperwork-related business problem I’d been trying to solve and asked Biz to offer some suggestions off the dome. And he rose to the challenge.
I had to give it to Pierre- Biz was a paperwork-loving bureaucrat with a gift for administrative subterfuge. And, begrudgingly, I had to admire him for that. It was unfortunate that he’d already burned us all once with his sloppiness and inability to adhere to standard operating procedures. I didn’t feel I could trust him to play a role in PanStar 2.0.
Our food started to arrive. Biz looked hungry.
“Anything else?” he asked, eyeing the plate of braised oxtail that had been placed in front of him.
“Yes,” I said, moving on to the character assessment part of the interview. “But please feel free to start eating. We can talk around our meal.”
Biz dug in.
Pierre picked up his rum sour and took a long, noisy sip.
“So, last time you were tangentially working for PanStar you ignored the protocols that were set for you,” I began.
Biz looked up from his oxtail. Pierre kept quiet and started in on his chicken. I ignored the plate of snapper that sat before me.
“And that caused a huge problem that could have gotten all of you thrown in jail- you were lucky, honestly, that the kid who snitched to save his own skin thought better of involving any of you.”
Biz knew better than to respond. He simply nodded and rested his fork against his plate.
“But they still took all of your paperwork, your laptops, the cards- everything!” I continued. “And that little girl is doing a bid. I told you and Lucci to stay out of her apartment and you ignored me. How do you know she won’t rat on you at some point?”
“I don’t,” Biz admitted.
“So, why should I take you on for this project?” I asked. “One that’s an actual workstream, with dire consequences for fucking up.”
Pierre decided it was time to go to bat for his friend.
“I have it all planned out, Hopeton,” he told me. “Biz is going to focus on two specific things- purchase orders and invoices. Once you get me trained up on it, I’ll walk him through the workflow, step by step, until I’m sure he understands it inside and out.”
“And?” I asked.
“And we’re going to work out of my apartment, and my apartment only. All of Biz’s paperwork will stay with me, and he’ll have to come over to me to take care of it. Once a week, maybe twice- depending on volume. We’ll figure that out once we’re all up and running.”
“Are you vouching for him?” I asked Pierre.
“I am vouching for him,” Pierre confirmed.
“And what do you have to say for yourself, Martino?” I asked Biz.
“I will not fuck up again,” Biz said. “Scout’s honor.”
“Biz actually used to be a boy scout,” Pierre laughed.
“Troop 237!” Biz said, then held up three fingers on his right hand.
“I’m going to need some time to think about this,” I said. “I’ll give you my decision in a week or two.”
A long silence fell over the table. I called the waiter over and asked him to put my dinner in a to go box.
The following week I stopped by Osvald’s for a shave and a haircut. As soon as he saw me coming, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. I heard him say, “He’s here.” And then he hung up. He walked over to greet me.
“Hey man, how’s the cold weather treating you?” Osvald asked as he ushered me over to his chair.
“Same as always,” I replied. “But with the way I’ve been back and forth to Panama this year, I don’t mind a little cooling off.”
Osvald unfurled a light blue cape and snapped it around my neck.
“Who did you call when you saw me coming up to the shop?” I asked.
“Oh, just my nephew,” Osvald said. “He asked me to give him a call next time you showed up. He should be here soon.”
And, like magic, as soon as my shave and haircut were complete, Osvald’s nephew bounced into the shop.
“Hopeton! I’ve been looking for you!” the nephew greeted me.
He turned to Osvald and asked if we could borrow his office for a few minutes.
“Dale, claro. Ve pa’ atrás y resuelve lo tuyo,” Osvald agreed.
“I didn’t want to pull this shit out in front of everyone,” the nephew explained, once we were in the back.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a manila envelope. I could tell it was full of cash.
“Here’s my next payment,” the nephew said. “Merry Christmas!”
“Christmas is a pagan holiday,” I remarked as I stacked the money in front of me and proceeded to count it.
“It’s five grand,” the nephew told me.
He was correct.
“Which gets you to one hundred and ten thousand dollars left to pay down,” I reminded him.
“I’m chipping away at it!” he replied. “But next year’s gonna be big. I’m gonna get it down to zero.”
“As long as your uncle continues to pay his rent each month, we’re still good,” I said. “I’ll let you know if the situation changes.”
A few days after that, I called Pierre to let him know Biz was hired.
“But this is your responsibility,” I stressed. “You’re Biz’s manager. And I’ll expect you to report to me each week to let me know how he’s doing.”
“That’s great Hopeton. I’ll let Biz know,” Pierre said. “And this is gonna be just as good for us as it’ll be for Biz.”
“Make sure to tell him I say congratulations,” I replied. “It only took Mundo being shipped off to Panama and a year of laying low for Biz to finally worm his way onto my payroll.”
