Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

Mateo decided to leave them with a final parting gift. He reached into his pocket and removed a large wad of cash. It looked like if he threw it at the wall, it probably would leave a gaping hole.

Bacardi’s eyes lit up. She watched Mateo peel away a few bills and hand them to her. She didn’t hesitate to take it. In fact, she snatched it away so quickly, that she nearly took off his hand. It was five hundred dollars.

“Thank you, Mateo,” she said.

He didn’t say anything else. He and Chanel left the apartment expecting to never return. Chanel was ready to get married and live her life with Mateo, hopefully in absolute bliss.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mateo and Pyro sat in the early morning real estate and investment class in the financial district, and they were taking notes. They sat at the front of the room and were focused on the lecture coming from one of the top investors in the city. Mateo and Pyro looked more like eager young men ready to plant their feet into real estate and investment deals than drug de

alers. They were trying to make legitimate moves with their lives, including caring about their credit scores so they could get loans, investing in properties, and using most of their illegal gains as down payments on prime real estate and legit cash making businesses.

After the two-hour class, the men left the room to continue their day of conducting business.

First, they went to a shooting range in Long Island to put in some target practice. Mateo and Pyro were always in friendly competition of each other, and they were both good shooters.

Mateo aimed at center mass with the Glock 17 in his hands and squeezed off several shots at the target, which was about 10 meters away. Pyro was in the booth nearby, and the two let off some steam by putting holes into the hanging silhouettes. When they were both done, they retracted the silhouettes to see their results.

“Look at that shit—center mass and four headshots. You ain’t fuckin’ with me, Mateo,” Pyro teased.

Mateo compared his target to Pyro’s, and Pyro was definitely the sharpshooter of the two.

“You got lucky,” Mateo joked.

“Nigga, luck ain’t got anything to do with skills.”

Mateo laughed. “Let’s go again.”

“You know you can’t win in this,” said Pyro.

“We’ll see.”

Both men replaced the target silhouettes and went for 20 meters down the line of sight. Once again, Pyro was the better shot. Mateo ultimately had to give him his props.

After target practice, they went to one of their favorite diners in Valley Stream for a hearty meal and conversation. Seated in a window booth with a view of the park across the street, they were like two old men talking about business over their afternoon coffee and lunch.

“I talked to my lawyer the other day,” Mateo said.

“Oh word? And what he talking about?”

“I just ran some paperwork by him . . . told him that we opened an escrow account to get this sale completed. Going through this neutral third party is taking longer than I expected.”

Pyro laughed. “You know how it is. Legit money is slow money.”

“Tell me about it. But he ran the title search and obtained title insurance,” said Mateo.

“And how did that go?”

“Everything came back legit.”

“How much do we already got invested into these properties? Remind me,” said Pyro.

Mateo sighed. “Too much.”

“Well, we needed this.”

“I know,” Mateo replied. “But Alex assured me that there will be no red tape with this deal.”