Free Double-Crossing Delancey by S. J. Rozan

DOUBLE-CROSSING DELANCEY
    SJ Rozan
     
    I never trusted Joe Delancey, and I never wanted to get involved with him, and I wouldn’t have except, like most people where Joe’s concerned, I was drawn into something irresistible.
     
    It began on a bright June morning. I was ambling through Chinatown with Charlie Chung, an FOB — Fresh Off the Boat — immigrant from Hong Kong. We had just left the dojo after an early-morning workout. The air was clear, my blood was flowing and I was ready for action.
     
    “Good work this morning,” I told Charlie. I stopped to buy a couple of hot dough sticks from the lady on the corner, who was even fresher off the boat than Charlie. “You keep up that kind of thing, you’ll be a rank higher by next year.” I handed him a dough stick. “My treat.”
     
    Charlie bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment, and the gift; then he grinned.
     
    “Got big plans, next year, gaje,” he declared. “Going to college.” In Cantonese, “gaje” means “big sister.” I’m not related to Charlie; this was his Chinese way of acknowledging my role as his wise advisor, his guide on the path of life. I tried to straighten up and walk taller.
     
    “Really?” I asked.
     
    Charlie nodded. “By next year,” he told me with complete confidence, “my English gets better, also my pockets fills up.”
     
    In the dojo, Charlie and I practice kicks and punches on each other. Outside, Charlie practices his English on me.
     
    Sometimes it feels the same.
     
    Nevertheless, I said, “Your English is coming along, Charlie.”
     
    “Practice make perfect,” he grinned, confiding, “English saying.” His eyes took on a distant look. “Maybe, can put English saying in fortune cookie, sell to China. Make big money.”
     
    Fortune cookies are unknown in China; they were invented by a Japanese man in New Jersey. “Not likely, Charlie. Chinese people are too serious about food.”
     
    “You think this, gaje?” A busfull of tourists pulled around the corner. Heads hung out windows and cameras pressed against faces. Charlie smiled and waved. “Probably, right,” Charlie went on. “I go look for one other way, make big money. Maybe, import lychee nuts.”
     
    I munched on my dough stick. “Lychee nuts?”
     
    He nodded. “In USA, too much canned lychees. Too sweet, no taste, pah!”
     
    “You can get fresh lychees here.”
     
    “Saying fresh, but all old, dry, sour. Best lychees, can’t find. Import best fresh lychees, sell like crazy.”
     
    “You know, Charlie, that’s not a bad idea.”
     
    “Most idea of Charlie not bad idea! Plan also, import water buffalo. Pet for American children, better than dog.”
     
    Sometimes Charlie worries me. I mean, if I’m going to be the guy’s gaje, I have responsibilities. “The lychees may be a good idea, Charlie. The water buffalo is not.”
     
    Charlie, his mouth full of warm, sweet dough, mumbled, “Not?”
     
    “Not.”
     
    Charlie hasn’t learned to shrug yet. He did what Chinese people have always done: he jutted his chin forward. “If you say, gaje Before invest big money, asking you.”
     
    “That’s smart.”
     
    “Maybe,” Charlie grinned wickedly, “brother-in-law also come asking you, now.”
     
    “Your sister’s husband? He needs advice?”
     
    “Too late, advice. Brother-in-law one stupid shit.”
     
    I winced. “Remember I told you there are some words you can learn but not say?”
     
    Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Stupid?”
     
    I shook my head.
     
    “Oh.” He grinned again, and blushed. “Okay. Brother-in-law one stupid jackass.”
     
    I guessed that was better. “What did he do that was stupid?”
     
    “Brother-in-law buying two big crates, cigarettes lighters from China.Red, picture both sides of Chairman Mao.” Charlie stopped on the sidewalk to bow elaborately. I wondered what both sides of Chairman Mao looked like. “Light cigarette, play “East is Red” same