The kids had their spot on Pacific. Pierre gave me his landlord’s last name and a phone number with a (914) area code. I handed over a money order for first month’s rent.
“If you have anything you need to talk to him about you might wanna call that number A.S.A.P,” Pierre warned me. “Not sure if it’s gonna be working for much longer.”
I tossed the paper into my floor safe and put it out of my mind.
Third week of September, my port contact called me and told me to come on out to collect my cargo. It was a big-ass shipment and I was to act accordingly. No matter how I arranged it, this delivery was going to raise high alert on my strip of Nostrand. Low-key was just not a possibility.
The only thing I could do was reach out to my Surinamese connection and organize for a couple of their largest box trucks to make a 2 a.m. trip out to the port. I also called Ever and arranged to have a pair of ride-along security join us. Delivery to PanStar took place between five and six in the morning. All hands were on deck.
As soon as everything was loaded in and inventoried, I started making calls. I was adamant that we get it all out as quickly as humanly possible. No delay. Mundo and Biz spent nigh on two weeks collecting money up and down the Tri-State, letting people know we were back up.
And we got back up at the last possible moment- every single one of our clients had been making noises about walking. I’d had Pierre working overtime, trying to get them to hang on for un chin más. Most of it was just empty threats, but I was very relieved to be able to tell them all, “Here you go!” and ship it all out, even though distribution was the most grueling and nerve-wracking part of the whole enterprise.
I was worn out.
Pierre had taken to talking about grad school whenever he saw I was within earshot.
“Okay, are we done with this shit now?” Mundo asked, once he’d completed his last pick-up. “Me ‘n Biz need to get back to HQ.”
“Yes, you and your friends can go back to your clubhouse,” I replied. “Thank you for your service.”
I sent them on their way.
From that point on, I only saw Mundo on payday or on the rare occasions that I summoned him directly. He and Pierre stopped by one Friday in mid-October.
“What up, Hopeton?” Olmando said in a chipper tone. “I got my receipts for you. J&R Music World, just like you asked.”
He handed me a wad of receipts.
I sat down at my desk and inspected each one carefully, pulling out my calculator to total up all of his purchases.
“So, it looks like you spent $2,759.83,” I told him.
He shrugged and said, “If you say so.”
“So, that’s…” I plugged numbers into my calculator. “$240.17 that you owe me.”
Mundo looked confused. Pierre smirked. He knew exactly where I was going.
“I gave you $3,000 in cash and I’d like the change,” I said.
“Take it out of next week’s pay,” Mundo replied.
“I will.”
“Hey Hopeton,” Pierre said, smiling, “We’re up and running over on Pacific. You wanna stop by to check it out?”
“Helllllllllll no,” I told him.
Although I was happy to finally have the kids out of my hair, all of the HQ shenanigans had worn me out.
I just wanted peace and quiet.
On my way home that night, I stopped by Clarendon Collision. It had been a rough few weeks and I needed to unwind for a minute.
“Hopeton!” Prentiss hailed me up. “Yuh look rough, man!”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “You got a beer for me somewhere?”
Prentiss nodded and took me back to his office.
Before I jumped into my tale of PanStar woe, Prentiss and I caught up on some business topics.
Prentiss wasn’t crazy about sitting on our parking lots, waiting for leases to renew. We’d been discussing the possibility of branching out into something with a quicker ROI, but nothing had come to proper fruition yet.
“Bwoy, Hopeton,” Prentiss said. “Mi getting tired of Brooklyn. It too much work.”
I took a sip off my Heineken.
“You serious?” I asked. I honestly thought Prentiss would never be tired of the life he’d built here in Flatbush.
“As a heart attack,” he confirmed.
“Truth be told,” I admitted, “I’m ready to start considering spending time back home again.”
