2019-08-31 - Seed Money
Greg is ready to put down roots.
IC Date: 2019-08-31
OOC Date: 2019-06-15
Location: Maple/Firefly Club - Back Room
Related Scenes: None
Plot: None
Scene Number: 1364
Getting a meeting with Felix isn't so hard. Greg is permitted to simply knock on the boss's door - at the top of the stairs in the back room - and put in his request, and Felix agrees to meet with him around 9:30 PM the following day. Which is now!
Even employees get patted down before they get an audience with the man. It's Andre that does the pat-down tonight, and Andre that will be standing guard by Felix's door when Greg is admitted. The big bouncer makes some chit-chat with Greg before the meeting time, talking about things Andre likes - Pez dispensers, glow bracelets, bubble-wands, kittens, and has Greg ever seen these things called filters you can put on your pictures? Andre just found one that will make it look like rainbows are spewing out of your mouth Greg. He wants to take a selfie with Greg, so they can have rainbow-tongues together.
Then Greg gets into the boss's office. Where Felix sits at his desk, doing some work on his laptop. Behind him, the one-way glass overlooking the club flashes dimly with the light-show going on downstairs. Felix lifts a hand, beckoning Greg in. And Greg would know the protocol: Felix gestures with a hand, so Greg is welcome to sit; Andre will stand by the door, looking very muscular but staying quiet; and Felix doesn't like mincing words.
"What's on your mind."
Greg takes to the selfie play with Andre entirely too willingly, and his laughter is not feigned. He even produces his own phone to show Andre what he and Greg would look like together as girls. It's hilarious, and everyone loves it... laughs all around. Until that door opens, and the laughter dies on Greg's lips, and he swallows hard. He tucks his phone away in his pocket, rolls his shoulders in his outsized blue and gray knit drug rug, and steps through the door.
He doesn't hesitate as he approaches the chair and slides into it, his impossibly brown eyes fixed on Felix like a mouse watches a cat. He does know Felix, intimately enough to be going on with, and also by word of mouth, so he only lets himself stammer and stutter for a couple of stupid moments before he gets on with it.
"Sir, it's, uh..." He pauses to swallow with difficulty. "It's just that... I have an idea, Boss. A profitable one, I think. So... the idea is this." His eyes search Felix, looking for some sign of encouragement or reception, but he hurries on to the point. "I want to open a medical marijuana dispensary. It's not hard to do... it just takes a little dough up front. So you open this place, and you get a legit business to sell weed. That's not the point though -- even though you can make real money there. I get 'em in the door and take 'em in the back to sell the legit weed, but I get to market your other products on the sly. It's a straightforward, legit way to let the clients come to me -- come to you. It all looks clean and legit on paper. The best part is the money... Boss, sir, I can wash so much fuckin' money through this. We set up a shell, a grow coop that supplies the dispensary on paper, and you can 'buy' and 'sell' as much legit weed on paper as you want. You take your investor's share on the legit money, scrub all you want, and I can get everything else moved that much more quickly. Like your friendly neighborhood drug store." Here he dares a crooked grin. "I can have the actual weed to sell on paper brought in on the sly from Seattle... I know some guys. So... what do you think?" Foremost in Greg's mind now as he sits there under Felix's scrutiny is not looking like an orphaned little beggar boy at this moment, and he's wearing his best you-can-fuckin-trust-me-boss face.
To say that Felix sits quietly through that is almost redundant. Felix sits quietly most of the time. He leans back in his chair, laces his fingers across his torso, and looks across at Greg, listening without interrupting. Part-way through, about the time he's talking about so much fuckin' money, a brow lifts, but it settles back out by the end. "You want me to front you the money to open a dispensary." It's right on the edge of a question, and the pause after the statement invites an answer.
Gulp. The gears behind Greg's eyes turn almost visibly as his mind races for the right things to say. "Right. So... I mean, you would absolutely pull your money right back out of it, and then some. My output would be so much better. And like..." Rising frustration, mostly held in check, colors Greg's tone. "I paid you back before. Mostly." This last somewhat quieter. "I didn't know that was you, fami... Boss. I didn't know Cliff was you... you know?" He sweats visibly as he spreads his hands out in a gesture appealing to reason. "This place, the people... it's like they're desperate to buy drugs here. They'll pay anything. I've never fucking seen anything like it. This... I can make you a lot of money, man." He clearly wants that last word back into his mouth, and reddens now with nervous embarrassment. "Please. If I have to stay in this... in this batshit fucking crazy place... it would be good to at least build up something that's like... mine, ya know? That's putting down roots Boss... just like you want, right?" Greg hitches at his collar nervously as he tries to meet Felix's stare.
Somewhere during all that, Felix puts up a hand - like, stop, slow down. It's not a forceful gesture; from any other human, it might even be sort of calming, but his version is tinged with impatience. "There's a dispensary on Elm. Some girl owns it. Where are you going to put down these roots of yours?" So that's something! GG, Greg, got the man's attention!
Greg looks surprised by this turn of events, and his head tilts to the side as he contemplates a reception he didn't dare to expect. "Uhh... well, really, I didn't think about that part much. It doesn't matter where you put it really... her customers are my customers too, and vice versa, only they can't buy the hard shit with her. They'll shop strains, right? And deals. I'll play the market on her." He shrugs, his level of physical comfort increasing as the draw of the dollar pulls his attention away from this room and into the world of his schemes. "I guess I always thought it would be on Maple, by the Firefly. Why spread out your base of strength? People on the street who know I'm holding in there, they'll know it's not just me, it's you... and you're right on hand to keep shit under control with all the scary shaved-headed broheims. I guess it would mean you have me right where you can keep a personal eye on me too." Greg's tone leaves room for the interpretation for whether this is a positive or negative aspect of the deal.
"You can't get in a price-war with her. Make nice with local business." Advice? Demand? With Felix, is there really any difference? He just nods slowly while he listens to Greg talking about putting his business on Maple. "That will put a lot of eyes this way. You'll have to account for higher pay-offs if you want to operate without harassment from the police."
Where 'harassment' = 'police doing their jobs.'
"How many employees on the books?"
Greg chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment. "It eats into the margin, sure, but I think the margin's broad enough to take the punch. Everything this joint actually clears on black is like bonus... we're making the real money in the back room, or off site with clients I met through the front." He reaches up to wipe the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Usually these things run with a small crew, a handful or so. Local yuppies or college kids would be great for it... they never need to know what's really going on there. If anybody starts to look like they're thinking questions, we rotate the staff. Nobody's taking a job in a dispensary as a long-term career move anyway."
"What about security?" Felix darts a look to Andre, and Greg can easily hear the big guy shift in his stance next to the door. "A man on the door? Alarm? Both? I don't have guys to spare, so you'd have to pay them, too. Hannah could help you with an alarm system." He could grant that much. Without a word about it, he moves a box of Kleenex from the far side of his desk to Greg's side of the desk. For the sweaty forehead.
Hesitantly, Greg reaches out to pluck a Kleenex from the box -- his hand retreats like proximity to Felix might light him on fire. "It wouldn't be bad to hire security. The budget would cover it, anyway. Alarm system and CCTV recording for the shop front and pharmacy room... you need a code or a key or whatever to get into anything." He dabs ineffectually at his sweaty face, shrugging. "It's not like I'm going to leave the place hot when I'm not there, and I'm sure as fuck not going to get caught holding. I'm a legitimate business... any dumbfuckery, the cops will come for my alarm and chase away the bad guys just like any other business on the street. The pot's all protected. I'll be insured... It's an umbrella over the real work I do for you."
Quietly watching Greg dab at himself, Felix takes a moment afterward, thinking. A solid ten seconds of silence pass, and then he moves some things around in his desk drawer, taking out a yellow legal pad and a pen. "Let's talk numbers," he begins. And since talking about actual numbers is a pain in the ass, this is where hand-waving happens. The plan, as Felix sees it, involves a sizable substantial investment from him, initially, which he expects to see repaid over some reasonable amount of time, with a respectable sum of interest. Also, he wants profit-sharing in perpetuity. Can they agree to these terms?
Greg bends like a fresh sapling to Felix throughout this 'negotiation,' offering no resistance at all. "I agree," he finally says in a surprisingly earnest tone, considering the source. "You're not going to regret this. It isn't going to change the world or anything, but I'm confident this is going to make a tidy pile of money." And if it doesn't, I'll be the soil the next crop grows in, is his unspoken assumption. After this, he returns to trying not to squirm under Felix's gaze -- fear, not dishonesty, and it's probably pretty easy to see.
"So am I." Confident about the money, that is. Felix puts down the pen, flips to a clean sheet of paper, and puts away his things. Then leans forward across the desk, offering a handshake. "Find your storefront." He doesn't just hand over a big pile of money, so it's more, "Let me know when you get that far and how much."
Borrowing money from crime lords always works out fine for everyone.
Greg looks cheerful enough about this latest addition to his list of unwise behaviors, leaning forward to grab Felix's hand really very firmly and give it a good shake. "While I've got you, boss... I need to re-up. On like fuckin' everything." He gives a soft, wry chuckle. "These people are like animals. It's all I can do to keep 'em all fed." He gives a cheeky grin as he pulls a not-insignificant stack of cash out of the drug rug's pocket with his free hand to offer it over the handshake. "In full, sir."
Rarely taken by surprise, Felix takes his hand back and tilts his head, looking at the bills. "In full?" he repeats, lifting his eyes from the money to Greg. "Nice work." He thumbs the bills, then slides them into the desk with the notepad. So as not to be too cavalier, he locks the desk and pockets the key. "Let's get you set up, then." Pushing to his feet, he gestures toward the door, gotta keep the street pharmacy re-stocked.
Everything seems settled now, so Greg stands up to lurk and shuffle his way along after Felix, to go and get stocked up. "I told you Boss, they can't get enough around here. It's... weird." His tone implies he's not sure why it's weird, and his face suggests he finds that confusing. The money, if Felix bothers to count it later, is right -- whatever personal use Greg is indulging (and you just know he has to be using some), he's covering it in.
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