“Fuck you! A wannabe?” He yanked up his sleeve to expose his red, swollen shoulder, where a misshapen eagle screamed in for a landing. If this was Auntie Ro’s brother-in-law’s work, I hoped he had a day job. “You don’t get one of these if you’re a wannabe. I’m made, baby.”
Made? Chinatown gangs were recycling Mafia slang? Where’s your cultural pride? I wanted to ask. Instead, I said, “I don’t see how that can be true, if you don’t know anything about what went down today.”
Trapped like a rat. Bright spots flared in Armpit’s cheeks. “I didn’t say I don’t know anything. I said I don’t know what the deal was, and I fucking don’t.”
In a flash Bill grabbed his wrist. “Clean up your language. Ms. Chin doesn’t like to hear that.”
Armpit tried and failed to pull away. “Ow.” He stared in offended amazement.
I said, “What does that mean?”
Armpit swung back to me. “Huh?”
“You don’t know what the deal was, but you don’t not know anything? Does that mean something? I hope so. Because if it’s just words, I have to tell you, Bill hates words.”
Bill let Armpit go and reached for his Coke, which he downed probably so he wouldn’t laugh out loud.
“Hey!” Armpit protested as his caffeine and sugar vanished. “Lydia!”
I gave him a benign smile. “It-tee-bit-tee fingerprints. Four fulls and two partials. Whose can they be?”
“Jesus Christ, cuz, you’re a pain in the ass. What?” Armpit said as Bill leaned toward him. “Oh, screw it. I don’t know the deal because we didn’t plan the job. We don’t give a shit-all right!-about your office, cuz. Some guy hired us.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I don’t! Dai lo didn’t tell us.” Dai lo, literally “big brother,” is a Chinatown gang leader’s title. “He just said we’d get good money to distract the travel ladies, open the place up, and let this guy in.”
“Let him in? The White Eagles didn’t search the office themselves?”
“Why would we? What the-What do you have that we could ever want?”
“What did the guy want?”
“How would I know?”
“Does your dai lo?”
Armpit rolled his eyes.
“Find out.”
“What?”
“Find out. Who it was, what he wanted.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, Bill’s crazy,” I said. Bill leered crazily. “I’m just your cousin with some little kid’s fingerprints.”
“I can’t.” Armpit’s voice rose in pitch as it lowered in volume. “I can’t ask dai lo shit like that. What if he doesn’t know? If the guy didn’t tell his name, ever think of that? Dai lo will think I’m trying to make him look bad.”
“Explain you’re being blackmailed. Fishface Deng, he’s your dai lo, right? He’ll understand.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Yes, of course. But whatever it takes, Armpit. By tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, man. Don’t do this to me.”
“What’s the problem? You’re made. You’re on the inside. Congratulations, by the way.”
Armpit ran his greasy hand through his hair. “It’s new,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“The tat. Just got it.”
“Yes, so I understand. You’ve achieved your goal, Armpit. Now achieve mine.”
A look of desperation stole into his red-rimmed eyes. “Dai lo needs guys he can trust. For this big score coming up. That’s how come.” He pointed to his shoulder. “It’s my chance. Don’t screw me, cousin.”
The third-stringer called off the bench into the big game. The understudy stepping into the spotlight. Who could fail to be moved? “Okay, you can have until tomorrow night.”
“Oh, man! Oh, no, come on, give me a break.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“This bullshit”-he cringed away from Bill, but Bill only smiled encouragingly-“what happened in your office. If I rat it out, dai lo will kill me.”
Sad to say, that might be literally true. And if I thought my mother was displeased when I’d sent her out to Queens, just wait until she learned I’d sent my cousin Clifford on to his next life.
Armpit pushed, sensing my wavering. “And the big score. I don’t want to screw my chances, you know, in that. There’s serious money involved. And besides money…” He stopped, with the wide eyes of a punk who, even stupid and stoned, realizes he’s said too much.
“What, besides money? What is there for guys like White Eagles, besides money? Well, cheap sex and bad drugs. Is that what you’re afraid you’ll be missing?”
He glared and picked up his Coke. Discovering it empty, he slammed the can onto the table. It made a pretty feeble noise, but I nodded at Bill, who got up and came back with two Cokes and a seltzer. Armpit snapped one open, glugged some, peeled a sausage from his congealing slice, and stuffed it between slick lips. Finally he spoke. “Dai lo has this idea. That’s why he needs guys. We’re gonna be, like, a private army.”
“You’re what?”
“For hire.”
“You’re what?”
Exasperated, he explained. “Because the score, we got hired for that, too. Like, that was first, then your thing. But, so, we can be this private army, that’s what dai lo’s thinking. Word’ll get around. People will come to us.”
I exchanged looks with Bill. “Well, isn’t that wonderful? Ambition. Beautiful. Tell me about the score, Armpit.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They tell me where and when it goes down, I show up. That’s all.”
“Show up and do what?”
“Whatever they tell me! Nobody’ll get hurt. For real, swear to God. Lydia, come on, don’t fuck this up for me!”
“You don’t know where, when, or what’s going down, but you swear no one will get hurt?” Oh, no, I thought. I sound like my mother. “Let’s go at it this way: You’ve been casing jewelry shop windows. How is that sleazy activity related to the big score?”
“Wasn’t.” If he’d been trying to send the message I’m lying, he couldn’t have done better than the mumble and darting eyes that went with that word.
I sat back. “You’re knocking over a jewelry shop.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Oh, not a jewelry shop job? So you do know what it is.”
“I fucking do not! But it’s sure as shit not something as lame as that.”
I took a chance: “Mr. Chen’s shop? Bright Hopes?”
“No way.” His voice dripped derision, but color flared through his video-arcade pallor.
“Mr. Chen’s a friend of mine.” So what if Mr. Chen wasn’t speaking to me? “I’d hate to see anything happen to him.”
“Oh, jeez, cuz! Nothing’s going to happen to Old Man Chen! He’s not even-”
“He’s not even what?”
“Anyone I know. He’s not even anyone I know.” Armpit was visibly, pitifully proud of how he’d saved that one.
Bill leaned closer. “And this big fucking deal big fucking score you don’t fucking know anything about. It’s related to what happened at Lydia’s office exactly fucking how?”
Armpit watched Bill nervously. “Who says it is?”
“I do.”
“You’re full of-You’re wrong.” Armpit stammered, but, in an impressive display of nerve and will, he got that out.
“Armpit,” I said, “did the same guy hire you for both jobs?”
“No. That’s why dai lo’s so happy.”
“Why?”
He looked at me as though I were the one whose On light wasn’t lit. “Because word must be getting around already! Before we even do the first job, we get another one. The customer’s happy, he tells other people, then the second customer’s happy, he tells more people, and there you go: the Chinatown White Eagles, Soldiers of Fortune.”
“The Chinatown White Eagles, what?” Mary couldn’t have sounded more incredulous if I’d told her they’d all taken Buddhist vows.
“I know. But doesn’t it sound like you should be keeping an eye on them?”
“You don’t know anything about this big score?”
“No, except they’ll never pull it off if they let Armpit anywhere near it. But I don’t think it’s as simple as robbing a jewelry store.”
“You said Mr. Chen’s name got a reaction.”
“Maybe he pays his protection money to the White Eagles, so Armpit knows him. I think Armpit really doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s a bad liar.”