I Learn to Waltz, Part II
OZ: Oswald State Penitentiary (NY)
Candy Land: Green Haven Correctional (NY)
13 1/2:12 jurors, 1 judge, and 1/2 a chance
I EARN my promotion
Mack’s POV
Javi is losing his fucking mind.
“How does he do it?” He’s standing in front of the ball case, staring at it. The ball ain’t there. Jorge is shaking his head and even I’m confused.
Javi’s gone mad trying to figure out how to protect his ball. Les keeps stealing the damn thing and we can’t figure out how he does it. Javi’s started locking his door and Les still steals the damn ball.
I’m stumped. Les is a fucking great burglar. Levi is pissed.
“Man, I coulda used him in my crew,” he mutters. Les left no fingerprints. The motion activated sensor was not disturbed. The pressure sensor Javi put on the ball’s base wasn’t disturbed.
It’s like the ball disappeared into thin air and landed on Les’s dining room table.
We know there’s a lesson here but we’ll be damned to figure out what it is.
Since it’s the end of the year and we gotta start clearing men, Javi waited to schedule our next etiquette lesson for two weeks since the last one. Cool beans. We had a lot of personal things to celebrate anyway.
We threw Jorge a serious (private) party for passing standards. 77%! Fucker was proud of his score and so were we. He’s dropped weight and gotten pretty lean. He finally bought a new suit to celebrate.
Brooks Brothers. Nice.
He also got joint custody of his daughter. We dropped a serious amount of evidence on the judge in family court and that convinced them to make sure things were fair and equal. Well, he actually came out a bit better than fair and equal. He got joint physical and legal. His ex is a pissed woman but she tried her best to poison that little girl against her Daddy.
The psychologist said so.
Jorge was thrilled and we spent time with Annelise getting to know her. She’s a pretty little girl and Jorge has her pics everywhere. Jorge sent a pic to the Boss Lady and she congratulated him and told him his daughter was going to break hearts someday.
Jorge bought two more guns and signed up for some more Krav Maga classes.
The Wall Street boys blew it outta the water too. I thought Javi was gonna cut Tater, but Tater stuck it out and is really taking charge in the business investigations group. Tater passed standards at 74% and that was the score for most of those guys. They’re proud and most aren’t ashamed to admit that the new look is getting compliments.
We’re hype in NYC. We got things to celebrate!
We nearly tipped Trenton last month!
Fuckers got serious. We’re so close we can taste it. Every man is pulling out his best moves, hustlin’ hard, determined to show everyone in RangeMan that NYC is major! We started having daily pulse checks in the offices. No more than 10 minutes, just to make sure everyone is on point. Every team is serious about getting contracts.
Javi threw me when he changed my job.
“Mack, I want you to change focus this month.” We chillin’ in his office, staring at that ball tryin’ to figure out how Les does it.
“Word? What’s good?”
“I want you to work the streets with Drake, get a feel for some new leads and see if you can pull some contracts.”
I stare at him. I’ve never really done that before. We get leads and pass ’em over to him or Jorge cuz they’re the smooth ones. “Why me?”
Javi finally pulls his eyes off that ball. He flips through the pile of papers on his desk and pulls something. He tosses it across the desk for me to read.
It’s a contract with Meikle Models. Signed.
“How long did it take you to land that?”
“That was different, son. That fundraiser? I knew what I was talking ’bout. I could speak to the struggle—”
“Is that how you landed that contract?” Javi asks. “Or was it because the people you were talking to responded to you, the man you are, and decided to follow up?” He looks at me. He jerks his head at the door. “Pull that, would you?”
I shut and lock the door and Javi kicks back in his chair. We look at each other for a few minutes before he smiles.
“Being around you reminds me of where I come from, son.” He grins. “You forget that under the tailored suits and the Ivy education is another hood. I’m just as fuckin’ street as you, son. My peeps kept me off the block, made sure I got the books, wouldn’t let me hustle or rep a flag but I’m still Tremont, son.”
I don’t have shit to say. Javi’s dropped the posh accent and gone straight Bronx on me.
“I grew up with hustlers, thieves, body bags, and random stabbings. I grew up knowing dime bags from nickel bags, seeing my friends go to Oz or Candy Land, seeing booty bandits in the street”—booty bandits!? Fuck. Javi does know his street! Imma laugh my ass off later.—”and hearing that the homie that was in class with me last week made somebody drink the milk and is looking at 13 ½.”
Fuck. I know my eyes are wide.
“Now, tell me, does someone meeting me for the first time know that?” he asks. The posh accent is back and I’m nodding, impressed.
“Nah. Got no clue.”
“Exactly.” He leans forward. “They don’t know shit about you either. All they know is that you’re a security expert, here to help. You’re smooth in the streets. You have a way of connecting to people that’s beautiful. Shit, we hit the streets and I watch you. It’s been over ten years since I lived in Tremont and even when I lived there, my parents only let me see it as an observer, not a participant.”
He points to the door. “Drake’s got the list. I’m determined to take Hal down this month and we have to get more contracts to do it. You realize that with all the men passing, our expenses went up, right?”
“Fuck!” Shit, I forgot about that. They qualify for full salary now.
“Exactly. So it’s time for my best hustler to get out there and hustle.” Javi grins. “Put on the suit, turn on the charm, and go make my money, bitch.” I drop back into the chair laughing my ass off. Shit, I wish I’d known years ago Javi was this kinda fool. “Get on it.”
I grin and throw deuces. I hit my office real quick, check my numbers, make sure Doobie and my men are on point and go searching for Drake.
“Ready?”
He nods. “Yeah. Just finished the liaison call.” He smiles. “I’m sick of Ram talking shit. Let’s do it.”
Javi’s list is right from the police list of people who have been burgled lately. I hit every business, introduce myself and offer to give them a free security check. About half the time I get the interest. I give them my card, tell them that if they don’t want it right now, if they want to check and make sure my company’s legit, do some research and take their time. We’re offering our expertise. We’re not interested in forcing them to listen to us.
This was a change in how we marketed ourselves. I’ve been applying Caro’s lessons and trying to make ’em work for me. I thought about what she said, about making ’em hustle us, and decided to switch it up. We leave ’em with a portfolio of our business services, cost estimates, and my card. Soft sell.
I get a call back ninety percent of the time. I know the mindset. They’ve been hit by every mom and pop security company out there. I wait three days until they’re in the right place to really think about what I’m tryin’ to sell ’em before I even go say hello. Conversion after that is ninety percent.
Javi and Jorge been laughing their asses off but I’m taking those lessons and applying ’em. Javi’s paying big money. Gotta make that return on investment.
So today’s list is people who called back and, like before, out of the 15 I got, I get 14 signed. The last one wants to think some more, so I give her a few basic pointers, like upgrading her three dollar lock and putting in some serious iron bars. Yo, Marcel irons cost some money.
Drake and I work the streets. He’s cool peeps, got that laid-back southern drawl to balance Jorge’s pimp-us-all mentality. Watching them, and watching Javi balance them, is an education. Javi lets Jorge run with whatever crazy idea he has, but Jorge bounces stuff off everyone, all the time.
He ain’t Shane, who never let you know what the fuck he was thinking. Jorge is shameless. If you got experience, he’s got questions.
That’s how our contracts have been exploding. Jorge found out every man’s specialty then asked for lessons. Levi taught him how to burgle (how is Les getting that fucking ball?!) and gave him a crash course on larceny. Doobie taught him forgery and counterfeiting. Jac gave him a crash course in gemology and went with Javi to make sure that the ring he bought for Monica was the real deal. I gave him the lowdown on how to move product and taught him how to bodyguard. The best lesson was when Drake decided to show us his specialty.
Arson.
We couldn’t fucking believe it. Drake is a master at that shit. Now, when anything gets set on fire around here, we look to see where Drake was.
Lucia banned him from her kitchen. She’s not taking chances.
Jorge took everything we taught him and mixed us up. He got consulting contracts with every police department around after we told him that every man has a signature, a little something he does in the commission of his crime that marks it as his. Drake studied management in college, so he’s all about execution and how to make it work. Javi is about the bottom line and making sure the numbers stay right.
Me? Javi puts me and Jorge together and between the two of us, if it makes money, we on it! Nothing is too good or too dirty. Les watched us, laughed his ass off, and gave us a new target before he left.
The Victoria’s Secret Dream bra.
Jorge and I drooled over the idea of getting close to Victoria’s Secret models.
“I think you guys can do it,” Les said. “I got a few new targets but at the top of the list is the list of clients Sentinel Security has.” He tossed us a list. The Victoria’s Secret Dream bra, the Super Bowl rings and trophies, The Grammys and Emmys, all these major events are done by only one or two security companies .
Jorge and I looked at each other and grinned. First Trenton then Sentinel. Easy.
Les is back.
The ball moved again.
We’re all crowded around the display. Me, Javi, Jorge, Drake and Levi. We’re determined to solve this before he leaves.
An hour later, Javi calls time. “I can’t obsess over it. I have an appointment.”
“Word? What?” I’m still staring. I’m determined to figure out how he does it.
Javi hesitates. “Manicure.”
“Manicure?” I turn and look at Javi, who is red. I grin and open my mouth to tease him, but I’m cut off.
“Who do you go to?” I turn. Les, examining his nails.
“Elements.”
Les nods. “I’ve wanted to try them.” He looks at all of us. Drake and I are looking at the other three like they’ve lost it. He grins. “Oh, you men don’t know pleasure and pain until you’ve sat in a massage chair for a pedicure. Break out the flip flops, boys! Let’s go get pretty!”
Our boss is a fool.
I still can’t believe I’m doing this.
Neither does Drake. “Somewhere there’s a man ticking man points away from me. I’m gonna lose my man card soon,” he mutters.
I’m feelin’ that.
Les orders the full package for all of us. Manicure, pedicure and facial. The seconds are told to run the office for a while. We gotta get pretty. The big boss has plans for tonight.
Me and Drake are nervous. Les has plans?
We get a semi-private area and sit. After ten minutes, I start changing my mind about this. Warm water, the massage chair is doing its work, this is nice.
“We got back from a tour overseas and our first stop was a full-service spa.”
Les. I crack an eye open and look over. He’s smiling at me and Drake.
“Bobby and Ranger had to drag me and Tank, but we went. You want to see obsessive about personal grooming? Bobby. Ranger too, but Bobby’s obsessive. He introduced me to the world of mani/pedis.”
OK, no one will ever accuse Bobby Brown of being soft. I listen. The massage chair is making a brother think dirty thoughts. Oh mama . . . How much do these things cost?
“So we get there and Bobby’s ordered full service. What does that mean? It means we start with an hour long massage.” Les grins. “A real one where she keeps her clothes on.”
We laugh.
“After that, a manicure and pedicure. Now, the massage sold me on the idea of this package but the pedicure? I was a convert.” Les shifts in his chair and smiles. “That woman removed layers from my feet. I mean, I had dead skin that dated back to high school on my heels.”
Javi and Jorge crack up. I look down at my feet. I don’t want to date my feet. I see Drake doing the same thing.
“Anyway, she put in work. Had my feet so soft when she was done I could barely walk on them. Tank?” Les laughs. “Tip toed.”
We all laugh at that. I’m trying to imagine the Big Bosses tip toeing places.
“Anyway, we get the manicure and facial next. Gentlemen, we walked into that spa men and walked out boneless.”
We grin.
“There’s no shame in doing this. If you need a reason, hell, women are your reason.” My ears perk up. “Women notice stuff like this. They like the guys that can fix anything, kill with their bare hands, and crush a beer can without effort, but get ’em between the sheets and they want soft hands gliding over their skin. They want a man who can slide between their sheets without snagging them on their heels.”
I hope my face isn’t red. Yala used to say I didn’t have feet; I have hooves.
His head lifts and he’s staring directly at me.
“Don’t let anyone define who and what you are. I don’t.” He looks at all of us. “I’ve been called everything from brilliant to psychotic and I don’t give a damn. I do what I want and that’s what matters.”
Les sits back and closes his eyes. I’m peeping the wisdom homie just dropped on us. Everyone knows Les is the jokemaster, the trickster, but I never really thought of him beyond that. Homie is wise.
The girls, ladies (damn, the sexism training has my head all screwed up), come over to get started on us. I’m cool.
Drake is laughing.
He’s trying not to, but we hear his snorting. I look over and the lady doing his feet is smiling.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Stop! Stop!” He’s laughing and we’re looking, smiles on our faces.
“Well, now we know. Drake’s ticklish,” Les says. “Ticklish anywhere else?”
“Only my girl can tell you,” he says, smug.
We crack up. Drake laughs through the entire pedicure. Me?
I’m not sure what homegirl’s doing. “Yo? What’s that?”
“Callus remover.” She spreads that on my feet thick and picks up a massive cheese grater.
“Whoa!” I’m moving my feet all around and Javi and Jorge are cracking up. “What are you doing with that?”
“I remove calluses.” She looks confused and I look over at Les. He nods.
“It won’t hurt. Let her do her thing.”
I look back at her and still my feet. She rolls her eyes and gets started. It’s like she’s shaving my feet. Holy shit! Ten minutes later I’m looking.
“Damn. Talk about making it rain,” Drake says.
“Shut up, fucker,” I growl, embarrassed. “Your pile ain’t that small.”
I look over at the mani/pedi crew. Barely anything. Another lady comes over and gets started on my hands. This is weird. She turns the massage function back on, so I sit back and try to enjoy the sensation (and I’m grateful I’m gettin’ a little play. Otherwise, I might embarrass myself in this chair).
It would be even more enjoyable if I knew what the fuck they were saying about me.
“Don’t think about it,” Jorge says. He’s closest to me and he’s whispering. “Their job is to get your feet pretty. If they wanna talk shit, fine, as long as you walk out on point.”
I nod and sit back. Ain’t my business as long as she puts in work.
She comes back and gets started on my toes. I’m trying not to think about what she’s doing but every so often that shit hurts. She’s got another towel and she’s lining up little bits of something.
“What’s that?”
“Cuticle. You have very rough cuticles.” I blush and she smiles. “Don’t worry. You have beautiful feet when you leave.”
I hope so. She stops the torture 10 minutes later. I look. Again, another nice collection of something. She tosses it and returns with some big rocks. I’m wondering what that’s about.
She puts the rocks on my legs and starts a massage. Man, that feels nice. She keeps going until all the rocks are cool. Then a hot towel, some lotion on my legs, and she buffs my toenails to a nice shine. Meanwhile, the lady doin’ my hands does the same thing. Lotion on the hands, buffed to a high shine and trimmed up.
I look. Really shiny. The Man Card Committee is thinking of calling foul on this but it’s just a buff. No polish. They’re holding the pink stripe.
I slip my feet back into the flip flops and go over to the little room Javi, Jorge, and Les went to.
The Man Card Committee calls straight foul. Javi, Jorge, and Les are all sitting back in chairs with green goop on their faces. I’m sorry but I’m not man enough for this. Drake walks in behind me.
“Pink stripe.”
I nod and I see three fingers shot in my direction. Les points in the direction of the empty chairs and Drake and I slink over, not too excited about this part.
I was right. Whatever the gook is on their faces is spread on mine after the lady wipes my face with a million cotton balls. She puts some sliced cucumber on my eyes and I hear her leave.
“Les?”
“Sup?”
“Is this necessary, son?”
“The facial? It is for tonight. You should get one at least four times a year. You’d be surprised. The mani/pedi? Do that every month, at minimum.”
I sit back and try to enjoy this. I’m not sure how much time goes by but the lady comes back and peels the goop off my face.
My jaw is hanging. What the hell is that?”
“That was in your pores,” she says, smiling.
I get up and look at my face. I don’t see much of a difference. I shrug and return to my chair. She cleans everything and wipes lotion on my face. I leave the room and look again.
I don’t see a difference. I look at Drake and we both nod.
Pink stripe. Big one.
Les tells us to pull the suits and meet back at 1800. He has a client he’s been chasing for a while and he’s ready to show off what our company can do.
I pull the suit, make sure it’s fresh and clean, and get ready. I’m back at RangeMan at 1730. Doobie takes one look at me, stops, and walks over.
“What’s up, son?”
I shrug. “No idea. Les.”
He nods. With Les, you just hang on and follow the plan. Don’t ask too many questions.
Everyone shows by 1745 and we all look the same. Jorge checks everyone carefully. We’re all fresh and clean.
Les shows with earbuds. We’re told to strap down and circulate. Incognito. The client should never know we’re there. If they get a hint of who we are, this deal is dead. Don’t reveal what company we’re from and don’t pass out any cards.
Final thing? We don’t have tickets to get in. Gotta get in on our own.
We take two RangeMan SUVs. Les is in a limo with the client. We travel to the Upper West Side and park. I’m nervous already. This is serious money.
Les hands over his ticket and ducks inside. Jorge calls us over.
“OK, Upper West Side function. Never try to get in through the front door. Back door, guys. We stepped out for a smoke and to conduct business.”
“No one smells smoky,” Drake says.
“The busboy won’t care as long as we get out of his way quickly.”
We break and slide around to the back. Even better: the caterer is back there and we can help.
“Need some help?” The man turns. Javi smiles. “We were about to head back in but you look like you could use a hand.”
“Yes, I could. Thanks!”
We each grab a case of champagne and haul them inside. Javi directs us outside to grab another and we help him haul the champagne in.
Good move. The place has security but now that they’ve seen us hauling the champagne, they don’t give us a second thought. We’re staff. We slide through the kitchen, wipe our brows quickly, and check each other for dust before heading into the main rooms.
I know it’s wrong, but I checked my nails. Still . . . pretty.
We break and start working the room. I know my eyes are bugging.
Models! Pretty ladies everywhere! Fuck, this is heaven!
I’m circulating around the room, trying to stay loose. I’m chatting with the ladies, smiling and wishing I could pass out my card. No wonder Les wanted us to get pretty! Shit, we look like we belong in this place now!
“You have amazing skin.” I turn. Some older lady is looking at me. Nah, she’s staring at my face. “Beautiful skin. Supple.” She runs her hand across my cheek and I raise an eyebrow. “Amazing pores. What do you do?”
There’s a crowd looking at me now. I feel conspicuous. I shrug. “Wash my face every day.”
Everyone laughs. She smiles. “With what? MenScience? Neutrogena? Clinique?” She peers. “This is the kind of skin I see after a few peels and microdermabrasions.”
What the hell is that? I make a note to find out.
“Do you use Kiehl’s?” another man asks.
“No.” Another man has moved closer and is staring. “You look like the kind of man who doesn’t fuss over his morning routine. Jack Black?”
“The stuff in the blue tub.” Everyone looks confused but I can’t remember the name of it.
“Noxzema,” Drake says, his voice in my ear. “I use that.”
“Noxzema,” I tell the crowd. I shrug. “My ex-wife bought it. I liked it and never stopped.”
Gasps. “Noxzema?” They say that like I suggested I wipe my face with shit.
I nod. “I keep it simple. Noxzema and sunscreen. The wifey put me on sunscreen.”
The crowd has a group ‘Ah!’ The lady smiles. “A traditionalist. Any eye serums? Creams? Toner?”
I have no fucking idea what any of that is but I hear Jorge whisper, “Mention that you had a facial today. That should get them off your back.”
“I had a facial today.” I smile. “Yo, gotta make sure I look good for this tonight.”
Jorge is never wrong. Everyone laughs then starts talking about their ‘girl’ who does their favorite facial. I’m able to slide away and start scanning again.
Meanwhile . . .
“Mack’s face is so supple.” Jorge. I grin.
“Such amazing pores,” Javi says.
“Who need dried placenta at $100 an ounce when you can use—”
“Noxzema and sunscreen!” Javi finishes. I’m grinning. Those two are fools.
“The Man Card committee called. They want their card back,” Drake says.
“I’m broadcasting that all over RangeMan, Mack,” Les says. The guys snicker. “Get ready. OK, gentlemen. The test. In a few minutes, someone will walk in with a package tied with red and white string. Remove the package and the individual without causing a disturbance.”
“10-4.” Javi. “Men. Locations.”
“Buffet.” Drake.
“Front door.” Jorge.
I look around. “Southwest corner near the windows.”
“Near the butler’s pantry.” Javi. “If you move more than five feet, give a location.”
“Check.”
We keep circulating, occasionally calling a new location. I finally get close to the buffet and pick up a few nibbles when I spot a man with a package.
“Possible.” I move toward him but the package is tied with blue and white string so I pretend to move toward the end of the buffet. “Clear.”
“Possible,” Drake calls. Minutes later, “Clear.”
We keep circulating. I pick up a glass of water and drink it quickly. Gotta have the hands free.
“Possible.” I move closer. Small package, just slightly bigger than a ring box, tied with red and white string. He’s holding it loosely and moving quickly through the room. I move quick, slide close and pluck the package right out of the man’s hands. “Got it.” I move it in front of me to hide it and start moving toward the exit.
“Second floor, Mack. Third room on the left,” Les says.
The stairs are back over where we came in so I turn and start sliding through the crowd. Meanwhile, I hear “Hey! Hey you! You asshole! Come back here! Give me my package back!” I don’t look back.
He’s yelling and trying to run after me, but I’m sliding through the peeps easy. Everyone’s looking around, trying to figure out what’s up, but Drake caught on, so he heads the man off. Javi joins me while Jorge joins the man. His screaming is getting quieter.
I hit the stairs two at a time. I reach the second floor and there’s guards there. They frown at me. Javi flashes his badge.
“RangeMan.”
“And?”
Javi rolls his eyes. “Fine. We’ll leave this bomb with you.”
They move quick. “Fuckers,” he mutters. We walk down the hall to the third door. Javi opens it and I move quick.
We walk in and Les is standing there with a group. I stop cold.
“Sir?”
He grins and turns to the men. “Package removed. Now for the person causing the disturbance.”
I turn and Drake and Jorge have the man with them and they’re walking through the door.
“Hey! Give me that back!”
I turn and look at Les. He nods so I hand the box over.
“Asshole,” he mutters and walks out.
Les turns to the person next to him. “Team of four slid past your security without showing any identification. They mingled with your guests, including models, industry professionals, and celebrities, and each one is armed with two guns and a knife, minimum.” One lady gasps loudly. He turns to us. “Anyone get any cards?”
We fish through our pockets. We pass ’em over to Javi.
“Javier, can I get a count?”
“Twenty-six, sir.”
“At a function like this?” Les smirks and walks over to us. “You said that, because we’re a minority firm, our men would stand out.” I really wanna glare at that but I check my face. “Our men fit in. Why?” Les motions to us. “Pick out the ugly one.”
Javi and Jorge both grin. Shit, that’s funny. I look at Drake. He’s trying to keep a blank face.
“Pick out the one dressed improperly. Pick out the one who doesn’t fit in.” The group is quiet, looking at all of us. “My men fit in wherever they want. My men mingled with your guests, received compliments on their skin”—I blush—”talked knowledgably about the industry, and circulated around the entire room. No one knew who they were, but they impressed everyone in there without giving away who they were and without losing sight of the assignment. Meanwhile, your current security firm stands out like a sore thumb. Your security needs an makeover.”
Les hands over his card and motions for us to leave. We leave and walk to the SUVs.
I climb in with Javi. I look at him and we both laugh.
“What the hell?”
I’m staring at the ball. It’s personal for me and Levi.
We’re gonna solve the puzzle.
We consider various methods of moving it. Levi tries every trick he knows but everything he does sets off the alarm. We look at triggers, examine the security tapes, and watch Les like a hawk.
He simply strolls in, picks up the ball, and walks out again.
We don’t get it.
I leave later that night for my apartment. I’m sitting up, puzzling over what I saw.
Les walked in and just picked up the fucking ball. It was as if . . . as if . . .
He knew no one would see him. Why?
I sleep on it and wake up the next morning determined to figure this out. I walk into Javi’s office and stare.
Les walks in at 0745. He drops a bunch of paperwork on Javi’s desk and looks at me. I’m still staring at the ball.
“Rule one.” I look over. He’s serious. “Don’t overthink. Rule two: drop your prejudices.” He claps my back. “You still want to be a strategist?”
I stare at him. Finally, I nod, slowly. Working with Les is pressure but he believes in me. Tank believes in me. The Boss Lady believes in me. Javi believes in me. Everyone around me thinks I can do it.
“Good. This is your test.” He nods at the ball. “When you solve it, and I expect you to solve it soon, don’t reveal the answer. Especially not to your partner. I need him to solve this puzzle on his own.”
I nod and Les leaves.
The ball is my test. I gotta solve the puzzle.
Rule one: Don’t overthink.
OK. I’m staring at the ball again. How does he do it?
OK, let’s take it back to the beginning.
Imma steal the ball. How do I do it?
Don’t overthink.
Let’s examine the scene here. The ball is in a Lucite case. There’s a pressure activated sensor on the case. There’s a pressure activated sensor on the base the ball is sitting on.
Think like a thief. What do I do?
Well, first thing I would do is disable the fucking alarm . . .
No. It couldn’t be that fucking simple.
Drop your prejudices.
It’s Les, so we expect him to do some amazing, miraculous shit. He’s a brilliant man. This ain’t shit for him. But what if . . .
What it he’s not? What if he’s doing something simple?
I go pull the logs for the alarm and grab the tape with Les stealing the ball. I check. Two minutes before he steals the ball, he disables the alarm.
Well, I’ll be damned. He’s not getting around the alarm because he doesn’t have to. He cut the fucking alarm!
OK. So now I know what he’s doing. How’s he doing it?
I check. There’s only two ways to disable the alarm. The key fob on Javi’s key ring or the keypad on the case. Once the lid is put back in place, the case automatically rearms.
I’ll check that next.
Les calls us—me, Jorge, and Drake—to Javi’s office.
The ball moved again. Javi’s losing it.
He walks in, all smiles. “You’ll need to coordinate with Trenton on this one, but I believe you’ll knock Trenton out with these.”
He drops a bunch of papers, throws deuces and leaves. He’s headed to Miami.
Javi’s thrilled. His ball is safe.
We sit and start leafing through. At noon, we’re tired and trying to figure out how to celebrate this one.
We got FASHION WEEK! MODELS!
Jorge is the happiest fucker in here. He does some kinda dance, looks like a drunk Crip walk, that has us on the floor ready to piss ourselves. He’s gonna swing his balls in Manny’s face for years!
We got individual contracts with major labels too, big names, to protect their merchandise and models.
Javi goes over to the mini-fridge and pulls a bottle of champagne. Drake runs to Lucia’s kitchen and grabs glasses and we toast Les.
MODELS!
Jorge and I look at each other. The Victoria’s Secret Dream bra. That’s the new goal. That and Trenton. We gotta take down Trenton. It’s not official until the numbers are in.
I watch the tape closely. Javi swears his keys stay with him all the time. So Les has to be doing it with the code.
Except I’m watching the tapes and he’s not. Les never touches the keypad. He just lifts the top off the case, puts the ball in his pocket, and walks back out.
In and out in less than a minute. He’s slick.
I keep watching. It’s gotta be the keypad.
I watch the tape for hours. I watch during dinner, I watch in bed, I watch to figure out how he’s doing it but I can’t see it.
Until I check out the tape from one of Les’s first visits. He’s in the lobby congratulating Javi when I spot it.
There! There, he just did it. I back the tape up.
Les reaches over and, very deliberately, pats Javi’s arm. We’re all smiling, watching Les congratulate Javi, but as his arm lowers, Les’s hand is near Javi’s keys.
I’m grinning at the screen.
Les is congratulating him and about to fuck with him all at the same time.
Damn.
That’s the fucking answer.
Les disables the alarm first then steals the ball. Every time. It’s a simple thing and we all overlook it thinking he’s doing some miraculous shit. No. Common sense.
Les is known for being the sneaky one but he’s just using common sense.
Cut the fucking alarm then steal the ball.
I’ve watched tape after tape and the shit is funny now. I mean, it’s so pathetic it’s funny.
He’s stealing the goddamn ball right in front of our faces and we’re watching him do it.
Damn. I see the lesson and I see why he wants Javi to solve this on his own.
Javi thinks too much. He won’t make moves if he’s not sure about possible outcomes.
I just did some shit, testing, trying to figure out how he does it. I called in Levi, a master at this, to help me test scenarios. I kept at it until I figured it out.
He’s been messing with Javi for years on this. I figured it out.
And I can’t tell anyone. Damn!
I see now why Les enjoys it. He’s waiting for Javi to stop thinking and just do something. Call in his boys, the other XOs, to figure it out. Test and retest. He’s got a problem. Stop overthinking and start from the beginning. Stop thinking of him, and the rest of the Big Bosses, as superhuman. They’re human and our boss is the trickster.
It works for NYC. You gotta be smart and have pointy elbows to run NYC.
I’ve been called everything from brilliant to psychotic and I don’t give a damn. I do what I want and that’s what matters.
Shiiiiit, that’s a New York state of mind.
That’s what Jorge did. He started from the beginning. Learned every man’s skills then used that info to get the contracts. He’s hustling hard ‘cuz he’s got the info he needs but he didn’t obsess over it. He moved.
Javi’s biggest problem is that he won’t make moves. He won’t do shit unless he’s certain. That’s why he needs Jorge. That’s why he needs me. We give him the info he needs then we pressure him to make a move.
So, what’s the lesson for me here?
I take some time and think it over.
Time to call Les and let him know I got it.
“Sir?”
“Odom?”
“I’m keeping my key ring outta yo’ reach, son.”
Les laughs so loud I have to take the phone from my ear. I gotta laugh. The shit’s funny now.
“Mack got it,” I hear him tell someone. There’s more laughter in the background. Les calms and comes back to the line. “You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Explain.”
“Don’t assume shit. Start from the beginning, look everything over, try to figure out how I would do it. Ask others and use my background to help me. Don’t not make a move just because I’m not sure. If I don’t know, do something in the meantime.”
“Congratulations, Mack. Remember that when you get to your post. Charlotte or Miami?”
“Miami, sir.” No hesitation. Thomas, the sun and warmth. Not a hard decision. Gotta figure out how I’m gonna handle the boys. Time to look into custody. I’ll turn this down if I can’t take my boys with me. I’d even remarry Yala’s crazy ass to make sure I keep the boys.
“You understand why we’re moving you from NYC?”
Honestly, no. “No.”
“Because we can’t have two Macks, or two Jorges, in one place. You two have complementary skills but Jorge is suited for Wall Street. You’re teaching him how to handle the streets?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re suited for Miami and you’ll help them rebuild. Congratulations, Mack, but don’t start packing yet. I’d say you have a few months. Maybe not before March. Get NYC straight first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Move the ball.” Click.
I’m a strategist. Gotta figure out how he does it and replicate the trick.
“Congrats, son!”
Javi is grinning. So is Jorge.
“What?”
“Les told us you made the cut.” I bump fists with Jorge, grinning. I still can’t believe it. “Congrats. So, you’ll leave in March?”
“That’s what he tells me.”
Jorge turns to Javi. “I wonder what’s behind the delay.”
Javi shrugs and turns to me. “Don’t know but I’ve got my partner for a little while longer.”
I’m looking for the key fob. I spot it hanging half out of his cargo pocket. I grin mentally. I stand and hold my hand up. Javi slaps it but I pull him into a half hug.
And I press the button on the key fob.
“Thanks, son.” I turn to Jorge. “You too. I still can’t believe it.”
Jorge smiles. “You earned it.”
They leave. I watch as they head to the 2nd floor. Good.
I slip into Javi’s office and lift the Lucite case. I can’t believe it! I look at the ball in my hand and slip it into my pocket.
Damn!
I replace the case and exit Javi’s office. I hit the stairwell and use my key to get into Les’s apartment. I put the ball directly in the center of his table.
I have to keep the game going. Javi needs some help and, since I can’t tell him the answer, I’ll help him get there.
“GODDAMMIT! HOW IN THE FUCK DOES HE DO IT! HE’S NOT EVEN HERE! I PUT HIS ASS ON THE PLANE!”
Then again, homie sounds like he’s about to lose his fucking mind.
I stroll toward Javi’s office, prepared to sit and help him puzzle through this.
Ha, too funny. Love Mack. Really liked this one after the last chapter. Frustrates me that the core guys are still so hard on Steph even after everything she’s accomplished. Yes the mall trip was a blow it, but once it sunk in what she wa doing she corrected it. The guys need to realize she doesn’t have that military background or mentality. She gets it now. They need to move on too.