Chapter3- security
Fourth lee considered pagan's proposal carefully. "a partnership huh?" he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. They were sitting in fourth and profit lee's uncle's noodle restaurant, discussing business over steamed dimsum and dumplings. fourth turned to his brother and consulted with him in native tongue while pagan and race waited patiently.
Profit lee was younger than fourth by about two years, but fourth never made any move without profit's approval. He wasn't given the nickname for nothing- profit knew his business. The boy ran around doing odd jobs wherever he could find them- no job was ever too small or too strange. If any occasion promised a buck, profit was sure to be at the very front of the line. Racetrack sure could use someone like profit by his side. He was more quiet than fourth, who was hyper and scattered, but racetrack could tell that behind the unassuming demeanor was a shrewd mind. The brothers balanced each other out quite nicely and worked well as a team.
"my brudda here's consoined ovah a coupla t'ings," fourth said. He held up a hand and rubbed two fingers together. "money. Wheah does it come in?"
"you can take our spots on soiten days," pagan said not missing a beat. " meanwhile, we gets permission tah sell dah woild and local papes heah .what's more, we get days off. Me and race and you and prof. We's split dah difference and we all be happy."
"it's gotta be 50/50," profit said. " even steven or no dice."
Racetrack was liking profit every second that passed by. Maybe he could be my adviser or somet'in...he erased the idea as quickly as he thought of it. He'd probably want tah get paid for it. Bad idea, race.
Fourth nodded. " how can I be sure we ain't gonna get beat up?" a defensive look crossed over his face. " some'a youse ain't too hot about us 'chinks' crossin' ovah yaw side of dah arch."
"you ain't gonna get soaked," pagan reassured him. " ise tellin' da boys in da lowah east side, don't worry 'bout dat. Ise got yah back covered. just make sure yah ain't crossin' ovah tah Brooklyn."
Racetrack cleared his throat. Fourth glanced over to him, "why's dat?"
"you cross ovah tah Brooklyn, it's outta our jurisdiction." Pagan said.
"my English ain't too hot, santos," fourth said. " run dat by me again."
"it means it's outta our hands, fourth," pagan said, blanching at what fourth called her. It was too fast for racetrack to catch. " it ain't our territory."
Fourth leaned back in his seat. "yeah? Whose is it, den?"
"it's spot's," racetrack explained. " spot conlon's. you don't mess wit' him or his gang."
Fourth laughed. "spot huh? Yeah, hoid about dat guy somewheah," he said. " a'right. I can respect dat. So we got your cawnahs, 'cept Brooklyn?"
"you got it, fourth," pagan said. " if we can sell here."
"youse keen on sellin' heah, san-er- pagan," fourth said. "why?"
pagan smiled. " cause I like dumplings," she said cryptically. Fourth smiled, understanding perfectly. It must have been a code or something cause racetrack didn't know what in sam hell pagan was talking about.
"you still on dat stuff, huh?" fourth said, glancing once again at racetrack.
"no," pagan said, a little too quickly. She blushed. "no, fourth. I ain't. ise clean."
Fourth shook his head, as if he didn't really believe her, but was giving her the benefit of the doubt. " you got our backs?"
Pagan nodded. " you got ours?"
Fourth and profit nodded. Fourth extended his hand.
Pagan spat in hers.
"what's dis?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"security," pagan said.
Fourth lee considered pagan's proposal carefully. "a partnership huh?" he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. They were sitting in fourth and profit lee's uncle's noodle restaurant, discussing business over steamed dimsum and dumplings. fourth turned to his brother and consulted with him in native tongue while pagan and race waited patiently.
Profit lee was younger than fourth by about two years, but fourth never made any move without profit's approval. He wasn't given the nickname for nothing- profit knew his business. The boy ran around doing odd jobs wherever he could find them- no job was ever too small or too strange. If any occasion promised a buck, profit was sure to be at the very front of the line. Racetrack sure could use someone like profit by his side. He was more quiet than fourth, who was hyper and scattered, but racetrack could tell that behind the unassuming demeanor was a shrewd mind. The brothers balanced each other out quite nicely and worked well as a team.
"my brudda here's consoined ovah a coupla t'ings," fourth said. He held up a hand and rubbed two fingers together. "money. Wheah does it come in?"
"you can take our spots on soiten days," pagan said not missing a beat. " meanwhile, we gets permission tah sell dah woild and local papes heah .what's more, we get days off. Me and race and you and prof. We's split dah difference and we all be happy."
"it's gotta be 50/50," profit said. " even steven or no dice."
Racetrack was liking profit every second that passed by. Maybe he could be my adviser or somet'in...he erased the idea as quickly as he thought of it. He'd probably want tah get paid for it. Bad idea, race.
Fourth nodded. " how can I be sure we ain't gonna get beat up?" a defensive look crossed over his face. " some'a youse ain't too hot about us 'chinks' crossin' ovah yaw side of dah arch."
"you ain't gonna get soaked," pagan reassured him. " ise tellin' da boys in da lowah east side, don't worry 'bout dat. Ise got yah back covered. just make sure yah ain't crossin' ovah tah Brooklyn."
Racetrack cleared his throat. Fourth glanced over to him, "why's dat?"
"you cross ovah tah Brooklyn, it's outta our jurisdiction." Pagan said.
"my English ain't too hot, santos," fourth said. " run dat by me again."
"it means it's outta our hands, fourth," pagan said, blanching at what fourth called her. It was too fast for racetrack to catch. " it ain't our territory."
Fourth leaned back in his seat. "yeah? Whose is it, den?"
"it's spot's," racetrack explained. " spot conlon's. you don't mess wit' him or his gang."
Fourth laughed. "spot huh? Yeah, hoid about dat guy somewheah," he said. " a'right. I can respect dat. So we got your cawnahs, 'cept Brooklyn?"
"you got it, fourth," pagan said. " if we can sell here."
"youse keen on sellin' heah, san-er- pagan," fourth said. "why?"
pagan smiled. " cause I like dumplings," she said cryptically. Fourth smiled, understanding perfectly. It must have been a code or something cause racetrack didn't know what in sam hell pagan was talking about.
"you still on dat stuff, huh?" fourth said, glancing once again at racetrack.
"no," pagan said, a little too quickly. She blushed. "no, fourth. I ain't. ise clean."
Fourth shook his head, as if he didn't really believe her, but was giving her the benefit of the doubt. " you got our backs?"
Pagan nodded. " you got ours?"
Fourth and profit nodded. Fourth extended his hand.
Pagan spat in hers.
"what's dis?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"security," pagan said.