1978
Candy was a miserable bastard. He was a fat 28-year-old guy who had to get his wallet out whenever he wanted to get laid. He thought the world had it in for him, so he did his best to control it. Candy was the best planner in the business. He's was obsessed with details. He worked night and day figuring out the stats, the timings, the people, the weights, the distances. He thought of everything. His plans were flawless.
With Candy you got the best…but you also got the worst. Apart from the body odor, Candy never stopped moaning. It didn't matter if it was world politics, baseball, coffee or hairstyles -- nothing's what it used to be, everything was going downhill, the whole world was falling apart and nobody gave a damn. Even NYC crime was a mess with the Columbians flooding the place with their low-grade drugs, not to mention music, food and movie stars. Candy had theories about why and how things could be better. He was miserable, yes, but entertainingly so -- even if it's inadvertent.
Candy secretly hungered to be popular. He envied the easy banter of Slink, the quiet confidence of Bishop; and he hated the good looks and style of TK.
2006
Twenty-eight years later Candy's built the empire he promised. It's based on white goods and extended credit, backed up by lethal bad-debt recovery. In his eyes he's a successful businessman, with interests all across Queens -- it's a marvel of intricate commercial planning. He's into all kinds of things, legit and illegal -- fridges, carpets, computers, cars, bikes, shipping. You name it, he's involved. He's currently excited about a massive break-through deal he's on the knife-edge of signing with foreign investors. If it goes ahead his business interests will stretch far beyond Queens.
