More laughter. They didn't know. What did they know? They were kids. Kids with just a few Glocks between them facing . . . Jambo Jambone X didn't know what they were facing, but he instinctually understood that it was better than a Glock. Better than any weapon.
"You jerks don't know!" he shouted. "This guy's a friend of the cool white guy! You better not disrespect him none!"
The laughter rang out in raucous peals.
"I am the Master of Sinanju," said the old Korean.
"You tell 'em, Master."
"I am with Esperanza, who would be governor."
"You hear that?" Jambo said. "This man with the governor! He be important. You listen up, you punks."
"When the one called Esperanza comes to this place of despair," the old Korean went on, "he will be treated with proper respect."
"Say it again!" Jambo exclaimed.
"There will be no shooting. No violence. You will listen quietly, and you will vote as I say you will vote."
"Hey! You can't say that!" Dexter protested.
"I am saying it."
"It's un-American. Besides, we can't vote. We're too young."
"I say we shoot the un-American gook," a youth announced, waving his pistol.
"I second that."
"Yeah," Dexter growled. "This we can vote on. All those in favor of smoking the uppity gook, vote with your pieces."
A fan of pistol muzzles arrayed themselves in the precise direction of the old Korean, whose eyes narrowed before the menace. Cold fingers touched colder triggers.
Jambo Jambone X realized that when those triggers were jerked back-jerked, not squeezed-the old guy who was a friend of the cool white guy was probably going to get dead. If he got dead, then Jambo Jambone X was going to have to tell the cool white guy with the thick wrists and very fast hands that his own brothers had done this.
Jambo Jambone X then made one of the most intelligent decisions in his short life. He stepped between the fan of pistols and the old Korean.
It was not bravery. It was not self-sacrifice. It was a simple subtraction. Take away the old Korean, and the white guy was going to take away Jambo Jambone X. One from one equals zero. Even a Blood could do that kind of subtraction.
"You sayin' don't shoot?" asked Dexter Dogget of Jambo Jambone X.
"I ain't sayin'."
"You sayin' shoot, then?"
"I ain't sayin' that, either."
"Then what are you sayin', man?"
"I'm sayin' you shoot him, you might as well shoot me."
"Okay," said Dexter Dogget, the second oldest and next in line to lead the Blood. The trigger fingers began turning white at the knuckle joints.
Jambo Jambone X closed his eyes. He said another prayer. It rhymed perfectly. "Lord, save my ass, or my ass is grass."
Then a frantic voice rang out. "Nobody better shoot that gook!"
"Anyone who shoots the gook gets capped!" a second voice warned.
Jambo Jambone X opened his eyes. They kept opening until they were very wide.
Coming up Compton was a wedge of blue varsity jackets. It was the Crips. And they were rolling.
One of the Blood called out, "What's this gook to you?"
"Cool guy made me promise to find him."
Jambo Jambone X blinked.
"Cool guy with thick wrists and fast hands?" he asked.
"No. Cool guy with thick wrists and fast feet. Our man Rollo jump him from behind. Rollo too slow. White guy gave out a Kung Fu kinda kick. Rollo, he roll one way and Rollo's head roll another."
Jambo Jambone X made the sign of the Cross, even though technically he considered himself a Black Muslim. But for the whispered words of a dying Blood, it might have been his own head rolling every which way.
"You listen to that dude," Jambo cautioned his fellow gang members. "He know what he be talkin' about."
Dexter scoffed. "You shermed, Jambo. Them's Crips. Big and blue as life."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Jambo warned.
The old Korean, who up to this point had remained silent but unconcerned, stepped around Jambo Jambone X. He shook his wide emerald sleeves back from his skinny little arms. Jambo could tell he meant business.
Jambo whispered, "The one with the gold earring, he be my brother. Don't hurt him too much."
"That is up to him," the old Korean said in a cold tone.
"If you gotta kill him, I try to understand," said Jambo.
"You will lay down your weapons," said the old Korean.
"Crips'll smoke us," Dexter pointed out.
"They will not."
"Good," said Dexter, grinning thinly. "Because we gonna smoke them."