Antonio pulled out his weapon. The blond man did not flinch or run, or do any of the usual things people did when they stared down the barrel of Antonio's gun. In fact, the man acted as if Antonio was holding a water pistol on him.
"I'll bet that gun is hot," the man said in a quiet, reasonable voice.
"Hey, I paid good money for this piece," Antonio said. "I don't have to steal. I make a grand a week."
"I didn't mean stolen," the man said, moving toward him. "I meant hot. As in red-hot."
Antonio wrinkled his forehead. "Get real, man," he said. But then the grip felt warm, the way a coffee cup is warm when you first take it in your hands. It grew warmer, the way a coffee cup feels when it's full of piping-hot coffee and you forget to grab it by the handle.
"Ouch!" howled Antonio Serrano. His prize pistol fell into the gutter.
The blue-eyed man got to the gun before he did. He picked it up, broke open the cylinder, and emptied the chambers into his hands. Tucking the Colt under one armpit, he calmly twisted the tips off the bullets and shook out the gray gunpowder like a man using a salt shaker.
"What the fuck is going on?" Antonio Serrano asked when the man offered the useless weapon back.
"Don't be afraid to touch it," the man said. "It won't bite you."
Antonio reached out tentatively. He touched the barrel. It felt cool, like metal is supposed to feel. He yanked the gun back, but without bullets it was useless. Still, it felt good in his hand.
"What's your problem, pal?" Antonio demanded, pointing the Colt out of habit.
"I knew if I cruised this neighborhood long enough I would find someone like you."
"Congratulations. I don't give fucking autographs."
"You run with a gang?"
"I lead the gang," Antonio boasted. "The Eastie Goombahs. You musta heard of us. Even the cops are scared of us."
"Even the cops," repeated the blue-eyed man. "Did I mention my name?"
"Screw your name."
"Tulip. Call me Tulip. I like the way you carry yourself."
"Hey, keep that faggy stuff to yourself."
"Don't be crude. I'd like to hire you."
"I'm self-employed, jack."
"So I gathered. A thousand dollars a week, isn't that what you said?"
"Yeah. "
"That would make fifty-two thousand dollars a year, assuming you don't take vacations."
"I wouldn't know a fucking vacation if it sat on my face."
"No doubt," said Tulip. "How would you like to make, say, twice your yearly income-one hundred thousand dollars-for a few days' work?"
"Twice fifty-two thousand dollars is one hundred and four thousand dollars. You trying to cheat me? Or maybe you think because I never got past sixth grade, I'm stupid or something. "
"No, I don't think you're stupid or something," said the man who called himself Tulip.
"Because you don't pull down the bucks I do unless you can count. Counting's important. Once I had my multiplication fucking tables down, I was set for life. That was my education. I got the rest on the streets."
"I want you to kill two men for me."
Antonio looked interested. "Yeah, who?"
"The Vice-President of the United States is one of them."
"Pass. I heard the Iranians or somebody like that are already working on it. "
"They failed. I have a suitcase full of money that they would have claimed had they succeeded."
In spite of himself, Antonio Serrano was impressed. This guy was talking about dusting the Vice-President of the fucking United States. Antonio Serrano had never even left the state.
"You serious, man?"
"What do you think?" asked Tulip.
"You mentioned another guy."
"Governor Michael Princippi."
"Isn't he running for President too?"
"Yes, are you interested?"
"I don't know, man. Drugs are my line. Breaking heads, too. I killed guys before, sure. But only over turf or bucks."
"Work for me. You will make money. What is the difference between killing for territory or killing directly for money?"
"I don't know. Killing for money doesn't have much of a purpose. I gotta have more. Yeah, I gotta have purpose." Tulip looked around.
"This is your turf?"
"Me and the Goombahs own it."
"I doubt that," said Tulip.
"Well, we don't own it exactly. We control it, though. Nobody comes here unless we let him."
"I'm here," said Tulip, smiling thinly.