BB had been told that he had to find his own housing, cook his own meals, and pay for everything on his own. Plus, the unit decided to exploit him for some money. He understood such the demand and knew very well that he was going to be making a lot of money off of what he was going to do. Legal or otherwise.
"All I need to do is put money in the stock market. I need something stable and something that I know will be growing from my time onward… aviation seems like a good investment."
Wall Street was terrible with scammers at every turn and thanks to having foreknowledge of all scandals and such. BB decided to go to an investment firm that mostly acted in the interest of criminal organizations. It was on Blue Street. The thing about criminal investors is that they are less likely to steal money from the wrong people. Lighter would discover the scandal in the late twenty-tens. Remembering the case made his heart hurt.
"Hello sir, how may we help you? We aren't hiring at the moment if you're wondering."
The thing about criminal organizations was that they usually worked in cash and the cash handlers always had a tendency of pocketing things and hiding things. Hidden things, no matter how many rats and raids and fires or whatever have you, have a tendency of surviving. As over one billion dollars of Pablo Escobar's money remains hidden to this very day thanks to such activities.
"I would like to make some investments into the aviation industry. And I hear that this firm is quite renowned."
See, BB didn't need the firm to get into the stock market. He needed the firm to make his money that he stole from a crack house into a lot of clean money.
"Yes, we are. Now, we can set you up with a personal advisor. That is if you have the right amount of money and you're willing to give up a commission."
BB knew that this place was a sad excuse for an investment agency. See, if you invest the illegal money, soon enough, the price will go up or go down. If it goes down and you sell it, you will lose money, but you won't have to pay taxes on it and the money will be clean, but the already crippled amount of cash will be further stomped down by an advisor's commission. If it goes up and you sell it within a year, the taxes are higher and the advisor still gets a commission, but you get your money back plus some. If it goes up and you sell it after a year, the taxes are lower and the advisor would still get their commission. Either way, the firm wins and the economy grows. That is the gamble of the stock market.
"Of course, I would love to have an advisor. But I will need to invest in the aviation and the technology industries."
"Yes, please take a seat."
BB went to the lobby's waiting room and sat patiently with a suitcase full of money. Thirty thousand dollars in hundred and twenty-dollar bills. He decided to use the restroom, but the men's room was out of order. It was a test of sorts as he sat back down in his seat. The money would get him further, but it would most certainly be a short-term investment under a fake name. If he was to go some time into the future and would find himself short on cash, he would simply return to Blue Street.
"I hear you want to invest in the stock market."
A handsome young man in a blue and blue suit took him through the large hallways that had pictures of men going all the way back to the nineteen thirties. Soon enough, they had arrived in a small office with a large computer and papers scattered about.
"Well, I want something stable and I want something that will make me money. Of course, your commission will depend on how much I will be making."
"Of course, we can discuss rates."
For two hours they found companies to invest in and they found nice conversation.
"So… how long have you been in the investment business?"
"We like to think of it as the business business."
"Neat stuff, isn't it?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Please, just call me Adam."
The man shook hands with BB before sending him on his way. A laughing noise came from the office as BB kept his shiny smile on. For the most part, he was on the up and up. BB had to contribute to the unit and if he was to do that, he would be smart about it and go somewhere that he knew would be safe in the long term.
"Alright, me and Abigail are going out tonight, so you know what that means?"
"I can have the TV tonight?"
"Don't call, and yes. See you later."
See, when Sears was away and Joey had gone to find some bar or illegal poker game. Scott had locked himself in the bathroom and begun eating salsa until he passed out. Even though sleeping in a full bathtub is more dangerous, he was a professional when it came to these things.
"Alright, what is it today?"
"Your nephew has a pretty good documentary."
"I have a nephew?"
Mistress and Alexandria crisscrossed their legs on the living room floor and had a movie lined up of their own. They watched a movie about Henry the eighth. BB had used this time to sneak into the cabin that was left without anyone inside and began cleaning. He did the dishes, put a load of laundry in the washer, and made the beds.
"Joey, why do you do this to yourself? This is not good for you."
Somehow, Joey had managed to drag himself out of the car and had almost made it to the front door before collapsing in a pit of self-pity. He managed to be caught by a mysterious man that in his fuzzy state of mind he could almost make out to be someone familiar. But he just closed his eyes as BB dragged him to the front door and rang the doorbell before being on his way.
"The total will be fourteen eighty-three."
When BB had ended up in some bargain mart, he did something that he hadn't done in so long. With the last of his money that he managed to find in the couch cushions of the cabin he had bought a bucket load of candy bars and some nice soda. BB loved his sweets more than he cared for having a place to sleep.
"Thank you."
When he was done paying for the food, he had eaten enough chocolate to knock out a horse. When he was done, he had fallen asleep on the curb, ever patient for the next day to come.