In September I decided to bite the bullet and directly ask Téo about Olmando.
We met for dinner, at Téo’s favorite neighborhood spot, Two Steps Down. Lali was out of town again.
“Where’s Mundo?” I asked, right off the bat.
Téo, knowing what I was really asking, chose to deflect. “I sent Mundo to Europe for a little post-graduation trip. Pierre’s keeping him company there.”
“Okay,” I replied. “But what's going on with these kids?” An open-ended question.
“Well, Hopeton, they’re enjoying a little time off after graduation,” Téo said, guardedly.
“And then, after Europe?”
Téo said, “I’ve spoken to Olmando about that. He knows he’s been given a few months to fuck around, get that restlessness out of his system. And when he comes back, Bolo wants him in with you.”
“Téo,” I asked, “is this really what you want for your son?”
Aside from the barest tilt of the head, Téo kept still.
“Of course not, Hopeton,” he responded. “But let’s face it- Mundo’s not going to go to law school. He’s not ambitious the way I was.”
He stopped speaking and shrugged.
“Or the way you are,” he said.
I nodded.
“Rafael wants Olmando and I’m going to let him have him for now. But only for so long,” he continued. “Eventually, Mundo’s going to have to get it together and go to grad school or be shipped off to Panama for good. Let Bolo deal with that mess there.”
“And what does Lali say about this?”
Téo’s wife, Lali, was, for lack of a more precise wording, what you’d consider a local-level socialite, very prominent within a certain Caribbean-American Brooklyn/Queens crowd, and as such, was hyper aware of family standing and what she loved to term as “optics.” So, I knew this plan for Bolo to “take” Mundo could only succeed if if Mundo turned it into a win and didn't manage to fuck up it all up.
I could tell that Téo was already preparing for the worst.
“And Pierre?” I asked. “Are we finally splitting up the dream team, or should I assume I’m taking him on as well?”
