A Matter of Conviction

“Well...” Diablo paused. “There are some guys you automatically don’t mess around with. I mean, especially if he’s one of you. Don’t get me wrong. We got heart, plenty of it. And like, if we wanted to bust Danny, we coulda. But we didn’t want to. I mean, like from the very first, he made himself clear, you know? So we respected it. Also, like I said, he was sort of one of us.”

“But not actually.”

“No. Like he never bought a jacket or nothing. We got these jackets we sometimes wear, but not so much any more because the Horsemen see you wearing them they get excited and the stuff’s on. And even the cops don’t like the jackets. Jackets make everybody nervous. We hardly ever wear them. But Danny wouldn’t even buy one.”

“Did you ask him to join the club?”

“Sure. Lots of times. I mean, he’s practically one of us already. But he ain’t. He just wanted to be...” Diablo shrugged. “I can’t explain it. He’s okay, though. A down cat. We knew that right from go. Right from when he first moved around here.”

“When was that? I thought he’d lived in Harlem all his life.”

“No, no, his mother was from here. And his father, too. But they moved out to Long Island when he was a little kid. His father worked in one of the airplane factories out there. Then he lost his job, and they came back to the city. This musta been about a year and a half ago, I guess. So they came back to Harlem.”

“Did you know Danny when he was younger?”

“No. He usta live on a different block. I only met him when they moved here from Long Island.”

“Can you remember what happened?”

“Sure. You know, he was a new kid on the block. Besides, that’s when he made himself clear. I mean, where he stood. So, sure, I remember. We all remember. Right, boys?”

The boys nodded.

“What happened?” Hank asked.

“Well, it was wintertime, I remember,” Diablo said. “We had a big snow, and the plows had come through and pushed all the snow up against the curb, you know? It was a big drag, man, like who needs snow? You couldn’t drive a car or nothing for a couple of days. We were real inactive. So we were sitting right here in this candy store that afternoon. I think it was these very same guys. No. Nickie wasn’t here. It was me, and Concho, and Bud, and a kid who ain’t here, we call him Botch. We were sitting right here, in this booth, having hot chocolates. I think we were talking about gash...”

DIABLO: Listen, I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t care how much you talk about Spanish girls when none of the debs are around. But I ever hear anybody mention a spic when I’m with Carol, and I swear to God, there’s a busted head. I swear to God.