The large brick building on Avondale Drive, previously occupied by the K Mart Shopping Center, was for lease or sale. My mind was set on buying. It was the perfect location for a Grown & Sexy nightspot. All I had to do was keep the young niggas out, and my shit was sure to blow. I’d open up something for the younger crowd later, but right now, I needed something that was guaranteed to stay open. Once I got this spot jumping, then I could venture out into other opportunities. I knew right away, that promotion would be the key to my success. From the front of the building I’d written down the contact numbers of the owner, called and spoken to a Mr. Nayer Kisclomb. We’d set up a time to meet today at the Golden Corral on Hillandale Road. He’d informed me that he’d be sitting by the front window, alone, wearing a beige suit with a red bow tie. Normally I’d smoke a blunt for breakfast, but not today. I wanted my mind clear and sharp. I was about to try and make the deal that would change my life. I was both nervous and excited when I walked into the restaurant and spotted the man I would be meeting. Stting by the front window as he’d promised, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up from his paper as I approached the table. He was a small man. His bald head and glasses, for some reason made him look like he was all about business, no bullshit. Or maybe it was just me being nervous. “Mr. Kisclomb?”
“Ah. Yes. You must be Mr. Banks.” He glanced at his watch then folded his paper. “Thank you for being prompt. Please have a seat.” He extended his hand and I shook it firmly as we sat down. “So, Mr. Banks, you’re looking to lease one of my buildings?”
“Well, I was really more interested in buying. By the way sir, if you don’t mind me asking, Kisclomb, is that Russian?”
“No, no.” Mr. Kisclomb laughed heartily. “I’m Jewish.”
“Oh. Sorry sir, my mistake.”
“Nothing to apologize for. A man should always ask questions if he’s unsure of something. So, Mr. Banks. How do you make your money? What is your profession? He flat asked me that shit with a straight face. Damn, is he looking for honesty? Or is he setting my ass up to say, “Hell no! I don’t deal with your type of people!” The question had taken me by surprise, so I thought for a second before I answered. Sensing my hesitation, Mr. Kisclomb laughed again. “Mr. Banks, I am not the police nor the I.R.S. The only reason I am inquiring about your profession, is because for you to be able to purchase this building, it is going to take a substantial amount of money. It’s an extremely large building in a prime location and my asking price is ninety thousand dollars. Does your profession provide that type of income?”
“Well, to tell you the truth Mr. Kisclomb, my former profession may have provided these types of numbers, but I am recently home from an unfortunate incarceration, with a wife and child to be, and I’m trying to get away from that life, so I won’t have to return from whence I have come.” I took a chance and spoke honestly.
“I can truly respect that Mr. Banks. We all go through trials in life, that should never be looked upon as any more than learning experiences. Were you a drug dealer in your previous profession?” Damn! He was killing me with the bold ass questions. But once again, I decided to play straight and not try to lie. Because one thing about a lie, you tell one, you gotta keep telling em.
“Yep. That’s exactly what I was.” I answered staring him straight in the eye.
“Alright. So, I assume whatever finances you’re bringing to the table will be in cash?”
“Why? Is that a problem?”
“Oh no Mr. Banks, on the contrary. Cash rules the world we live in. Cash is always better. Anywhere in the world. Trust me, I know. I tell you what Mr. Banks. My asking price is ninety thousand. For cash, I’ll let you have it for seventy- five.”
“I need some time.”
“Well, there’s really no immediate rush. There’s paperwork that will need to be processed. So, you bring me a ten thousand - dollar; non-refundable deposit, and the building is yours upon my receipt of the other sixty - five. You’ll have sixty days. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good. But what about the I.R.S. With all that cash exchanging hands won’t the Feds be interested?” Kisclomb laughed even harder than before.
“Mr. Banks, I’m Jewish. Don’t worry about the Feds. I know how to handle the paperwork. Everything will be nice and legal. Okay?”
The shit he was spitting was music to my ears. Now all I had to do, was scrape together the rest of the money somehow. I knew I was still gonna need start up money, which could easily end up being another twenty- five, thirty thousand. Damn. Going legit was harder than I thought. But with Monique pregnant now, the shit was no longer just an option. I had to make it pop!