A Boom Giveth, and It Taketh Away

Liquor stores are places of secrets and desperation, but at Paradise the desperation is rarely disguised. A city employee cuts work to buy a bottle. A size-2 woman in need of a crack pipe comes in and asks Lee whether he sells single-stem rose vases. A man opens a garbage bag containing a fax machine, a color copier and a printer, all available for a low, low price. They come to Lee with their wares: three-packs of underwear, stereos, heavy-duty tools and tubes of toothpaste.

But Paradise is also a post office, bank and candy store, full of teetotalers and children and old men from the neighborhood sharing gardening and gambling tips. Every Friday, Paradise cashes $10,000 in payroll checks. Lee takes a 2 percent cut, sometimes more. "You don't like it, you can go to a bank," he tells them. But he knows that Paradise is their bank.

Lee has never been robbed. He has two surveillance cameras, but his eyes are superior. Same with his helper, Sang Choi. A couple of days earlier, a guy grabbed a carton of Newports, and Choi chased him across the street to the alley behind Church of the Rapture, where the thief pulled a knife from his shorts and Choi grudgingly gave up.

Lee tells everyone the slightly built man was a heavy in the Korean military. Choi smokes incessantly and commutes 40 miles each way to the dingy liquor store from his home in Ellicott City.

"Hi, baby," a woman says to Choi, who gives a little bow with his head. "Gimme a pint of that Christian Brothers."

Lee goes outside with some empty boxes. He used to have a dumpster, but the ANC made him get rid of it because the homeless were using it as a buffet. "They want to upgrade the neighborhood. I understand that," Lee says. "These ANC guys walk around day and night looking at things. I wonder how they make a living. "

As time runs out on the lease, the owner of Paradise, Byung In Min, finds two liquor stores to buy. One is at First and Kennedy streets NW, and the other is off Marlboro Pike in Prince George's County. Lee drives to check out the store at First and Kennedy. A steel gate makes the front look like a jail. There's housing all around, potential customers. Perfect, Lee thinks. He returns to Paradise excited. It reminds him of the old days on 14th and T: hustle and trash-talking and the sound of cash registers. "I'm gonna have to get to know the head of the households," he says. "I'll be selling 40-ounce and 24s. I'm gonna be running it by the neighborhood with nobody telling us what to sell."

Lee doesn't notice that not far from the new liquor store is a luxury condo project called the Lofts at Brightwood, with a rooftop terrace and a restaurant featuring "upscale diasporan cooking and an eclectic lounge atmosphere."

Whatever washed over 14th and T is pushing across the whole city.

* * *

Across the street from Paradise, Cafe Saint-Ex chef Barton Seaver is briefing the staff on the evening specials. "The daily bruschetta will be fresh organic heirloom tomatoes with gorgonzola and balsamic," Seaver says, wearing chef's whites and a faded Boston Red Sox cap. "Our fish of the day is a grilled boneless trout fillet."

"Is it Virginia trout?" a server asks, taking notes.