I fought the law, and the law almost lost.
I was born in Los Angeles flower garden on the wrong side of town. My earliest memories are scrabbling through refuse for food and clothing. One day I was casing a 7-11 when I saw another kid my age eying the candy rack. A thief knows a thief when he sees one, and this guy clearly didn’t know how to do the job right. I could see the Pakistani man who ran the place staring at him. His brow was furrowed, and I knew he was close to coming out from behind the counter to chase him off with the bat he kept under the register. I felt a sudden flash of kinship, and I decided to help him. I turned away and walked toward the back, toward the freezer where the alcohol was.
The sound of breaking glass caught the owner’s attention. He rushed over, hands balled into fists. I caught the other kid’s eye and nodded my head toward the door as I backpedaled in the opposite direction. He took the hint, stuffing his pockets and dashing out. I waited until the door chime distracted the shopkeeper before grabbing a bottle of tequila and hurling it at his head. It struck with an audible clunk. The shopkeeper swore in Urdu. I charged, ducking under his swinging arms and evading his clumsy attempt to grab me. He tried to turn and give chase, but he was still woozy and confused. By the time he reached the door I was long gone.
I met the other kid outside behind the gas station. He eyed me, not saying anything. Then he seemed to come to a decision and handed me a candy bar. I grinned and took it. The salty blend of chocolate, caramel and nuts tasted delicious as only stolen sweets can.
“That was pretty slick,” he said as I chewed it. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. The words felt awkward and unfamiliar on my tongue, so I spat them out as quickly as I could. “What were you thinking, trying something like that right where he could see you?”
He grinned back and nodded at something behind me. Another kid, this one a few years younger, padded around to join us in back of the gas station. He was carrying a bag full of canned foods. I felt my eyebrows come up.
“You’re better than I thought,” I said. “I never even saw him.”
We laughed at that, all three of us. They started off into the night and I followed. I learned their names were Shatou and Zhutou. I told them I was called Sun. From that night forward we were inseparable. Other boys started running with us before long, and after awhile people started calling us the Stone Monkeys.
†
“You serious about this, Sunny?” Shatou said he twirled his butterfly knife between his fingers with blurring speed. It was a familiar nervous gesture for him.
I nodded as I checked the tools of the trade I had secreted all over my person. “Gotta send these clowns a message early,” I explained. “If we don’t smack them down now they’ll get to thinking they can muscle in on our turf with impunity.”
Zhutou snickered. “Impunity,’ he says. What are you, a thesaurus?”
I flipped him the bird as I cinched up my boots. Shatou was still worried.
“Sending a message is one thing bro,” he said. “But there ain’t no sense in going alone. Just gimme half a day and I can have a dozen of the guys ready to rumble.”
I shook my head. “No. Anyone can dig up some muscle and go to town. We go down that road and someone in the family is gonna end up hurt even if we win.”
“When we win!” Zhutou said indignantly.
I snorted at that. “When we win,” I conceded. “But the point is, if we do this right then we can put the fear in them without any of our boys getting messed up.”
“At least take us with you,” Shatou pleaded. I waved him off.
“My plan, my responsibility,” I said firmly. “Besides, for something like this you’d just cramp my style. Remember, your boss is a smooth operator.”
With that I put on my helmet, revved up my bike and tore out of the garage before anyone could say another word. I had a date with the Dragon Kings.
†
It hadn’t taken us long to earn a reputation as one of the baddest gangs in town. People nodded their heads as we walked by, and the police found better things to do than hassle Asians in our neighborhoods. Life was good. Petty hustles and shoplifting had been replaced with scores a budding criminal could sink his teeth into, along with dues paid by grateful locals who appreciated the protection we gave them from the really psycho gangs.
The Dragon Kings had been an LA gang for years, but lately they’d been on a serious expansion spree. Word on the street was that someone was backing them, someone with pull downtown. At the time we figured that was above our pay grade. We didn’t care who was fixing their speeding tickets. We just wanted them to stay off our turf and away from our people. I’d told Zhutou most of the truth: I didn’t want any of ours to be hurt in a general throw down. What I didn’t tell him was that I wasn’t sure we’d win if we went that way. I’d come out alive, I was sure. Them, not so much.
Dark thoughts. I came to a halt outside the Dragon Kings compound. It was a fancy place, four stories and way nicer than the head of a street gang had any right to be. The only thing that made it look out of a place for a country club was the barb wire topped fence around it. That was what made me worry. Money like this meant serious connections. We could be looking at cartel people here, and those weren’t organizations any sane person wanted to step to. But there was nothing for it. Backing down was even less of an option. I stashed my motorcycle somewhere out of sight and started up the chain link fence.
The trick to beating barbed wire was to not be afraid of it. I braced myself near the top then vaulted over the ribbon of steel with one smooth movement. The sharp metal scrapped against my leather jacket and jeans as I flipped over it and caught onto the fence on the opposite sight. I scurried down like a monkey and landed in a crouch. I scanned the yard. No movement. No signs that I had been spotted. I hustled around to the side of the house.
People usually remember to lock their front doors. Smart people like their back doors and garage doors too. Not a lot of people lock their fourth story windows. There are a number of reasons for that last one and for most people it is not a problem. I lived up to our name and scaled the fancy stonework on the side of the house as easily as if it was a ladder.
I padded my way through the house, ears pricked, eyes peeled. I can read a fly’s genitals at twenty paces. I can hear water dripping from a facet through multiple walls and in a dead sleep. The sound of a man coughing behind a pair of double doors didn’t have much trouble catching my attention. I checked the doors. They were locked and sturdy. Time for a dynamic entry.
“And I’m all out of bubblegum!” I boomed as I kicked down the door. A powerfully built older man in his underwear was sprawled out on a king-sized bed. He had to be pushing fifty at least, but his body was as lean and hard as a prison gym rat in his twenties. Lines of white powder were laid down on a bedside table. Judging from his flushed face and the way his erection strained against the fabric of his boxers I was guessing there had been more lines snorted before I’d come in. I knew he could only be one person.
Donghai. Head of the Dragon Kings from East Los Angeles.
“You!” he spat. “Who are you and what are you doing in my quarters?!”
I started to say something badass and intimidating. He cut me off by producing a handgun the size of a miniature cannon and opening fire.
I pencil-rolled to the side. The big gun tore holes the size of my head in the wall of the hallway outside. I came out of my roll into a crouch. Splinters flew like shrapnel as more shots ripped up the floor behind me. No time to think. I leapt straight up. I grabbed onto a hanging light fixture just as bullets blasted apart the spot where I had been a second before. Donghai adjusted his aim upward, tracking me with cocaine speed. He caught me in his sights and pulled the trigger before I could react.
Nothing happened.
I recognized the gun now as a Desert Eagle. The oversized things were famous for being as finicky as they were powerful. I was a little impressed he hadn’t broken his wrists firing the damned thing.
“So,” I said awkwardly. My ears were still ringing. “Just hanging around?”
He produced another gun from the bedside table. “Oh come on!” I protested.
I swung on the light fixture and launched myself at Donghai. I caught him in the face with a double kick before he could fire. He grunted and when flying out of the bed. The gun went skittering across the room. He landed with a crash against the dresser that stood against the far wall. I crouched on the edge of the bed and waited.
“Consider this a public service announcement!” I shouted. “Stay out of Stone Monkey territory!”
He glared at me and grabbed an ornate snuff box that had fallen off the table. He opened it, pinched something white and snorted with an oddly delicate motion. He shuddered as the devil’s powder took hold of him, madness and genius vying for control. Then he went still as a statue. Our eyes met. He produced a knife. Then he rushed at me.
I back flipped across the bed as he came in stabbing. I felt the woosh of air beneath me as the blow came within inches of my crotch. As I tumbled end over end my hand closed on something heavy and firm mounted on the wall above the bed. I yanked at it and a golden stick with metal hoops on either end came free of its mounting. I landed and twirled it.
“You little punk!” Donghai hissed. “You dare challenge me with my own staff?!”
“Punk is nothing but deathand crimeand the rage of a beast!” I shot back. Donghai screamed and lunged. I parried.
“Batman said that!” I continued. “And if the Dark Knight says it, it must be true!”
Donghai threw a looping roundhouse punch with his free hand. I caught it on my forearm and pushed it aside. He tried to catch me with the knife, but I head butted him hard in the face. His head snapped back, and the knife fell from his suddenly limp fingers. As he swayed on his feet I took a step back and twirled the staff.
“Dragon Kings never surrender,” he slurred.
I shrugged and lifted the staff. “As you will.”
I brained him over the head. He fell into a heap. I looked at the rod in my hands.
“I think I like this thing.”
†
I came back to our usual hangout decked out in stolen bling. My brothers gathered cautiously as I steered the motorcycle into the garage and slowed to a halt. I dismounted, took my helmet off and flashed them a smile.
“Hey guys.”
“Sun!” Shatou said. “The news has been going crazy about there having been some kind of shoot-out at the Dragon Kings’ compound. Like thirty guys were arrested for possession, including Donghai!”
I pulled the staff off the motorcycle, extended it to quarterstaff length and gave it a twirl. Turns out the thing was collapsible.
“Suffice it to say that Donghai won’t be sniffing around our territory again anytime soon,” I said casually. “I found a ton of coke there. Enough to put him away for a long time if the cops came by and found it.”
My friends crowded around to congratulate me on the back. The back-thumping and shoulder pounding felt like it hurt as much as Donghai’s gunfire would have given all the bruises on me, but I figured it was worth it. My gang’s turf and safety was secure. My brothers would be alright. The threat was over.
It’s not like the Dragon Kings would be calling in outside assistance or anything.
