bad ass, so we gonna be careful."
"Gotcha."
"Raht."
"Cool."
"Now he gonna come out that door. Me and Wil-
it " lie be on up here, Louie and Tailor be down there. If
he come this way, you come in behind him. If he go your way, me'n Willie be behind him. Dig?"
"Gotcha."
"Raht."
"Cool."
"Now I cuts him first, see, 'cause it be my job. Then he be yours. Make sure we gets his wallet so it look like he was took off. And then when we done, you gets a hundred each. Dig?"
"Gotcha."
"Raht."
"Take yo' positions," Slits said.
* * *
right. But Remo came out of the apartment building and without pausing, walked directly across the street, leaving behind him four very confused young
men.
As their leader, Slits knew he had to improvise, if this whole deal wasn't going to get out of hand.
He went running across the street toward Remo.
"Hey, hey. Stop. Hey, hey," he called.
Remo stopped and looked at him. He saw three other young men fall in and start crossing behind
"What do you want?" Remo asked.
"Got a match?" Slits said, thinking quickly.
"Where's your cigarette?" Remo asked.
Still thinking quickly, Slits said "I musta dropped
"Then you don't need a match."
"Dammit, honkey, I needs a light," Slits said. He was not about to be dissuaded from a good plan just because of some uncooperative honkey.
"Rub your head on the sidewalk," Remo said. "That should give off a spark."
Slits saw the other three coming up on them now so he whipped out his knife.
"I gonna cut you," he said.
The dude didn't even look scared. "Why don't you talk right?" he said. Then the dude's hand
"Cool " moved faster than he could follow and his blade was
gone.
"Shit, mah blade. Willie!" he called.
Willie jumped forward, nervously waving the
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blade in his hand. Suddenly, he felt something hit I as if it were floating in a haze. The honkey was say-his hand and the blade cut a narrow furrow in Slits' ing something, asking him a question.
cheek.
"Sheeeit," Slits yelled, grabbing his face. "You cut me, you turkey."
"It weren't my fault, Slits. Honest."
"Shut up and cut him!" Slits yelled. "You too!" he yelled toward Tailor and Louie.
Slits watched what happened next with wide eyes, not really believing it.
Tailor made a stabbing motion at the honkey and suddenly the honkey wasn't there. Tailor and his blade kept going until the blade buried itself to the hilt in Willie's stomach. Willie's scream cut through the silent midnight in Manhattan like an icepick piercing soft bread. While Tailor stared in horror at Willie's body slipping to the ground, Slits saw the honkey pick Tailor up and toss him head first through the windshield of a parked car.
Louie charged the dude from behind with his knife, but then the dude wasn't there. He was behind Louie. He tapped Louie on the shoulder and when Louie turned, the honkey jabbed him in the stomach. With his finger. Louie went down and Slits knew somehow, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that Louie was never going to get up.
Where was his blade? Slits looked around the ground, anger overwhelming his good sense. Gonna cut that dude. Gonna cut him good.
Just as he got his hand around the hilt of his knife, he couldn't breathe. Something had him by the throat and he felt as if his throat had closed up tight. Then he saw the honkey's face in front of him,
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"Who sent you?" the honkey was asking. Sheeeit, Slits thought. I don't even know nobody's name. Just a white guy.
He tried to say I don't know, but it came out like "Ahdun" and then he remembered the knife in his hand and he swung it around, but before it reached anything, the steel band around his throat tightened up even more, and he could feel his brain exploding, and he dropped the knife onto the sidewalk. And then fell to join it.