When I arrived at a few minutes before nine the next morning, Asaan wasn’t yet on the premises, so I took a seat at a booth in the back and ordered coffee and a bagel. The waitress, who looked like she’d been working there since the place opened in 1951, gave me a disapproving look as she turned and headed back to the kitchen.
A couple of minutes later, still limping slightly, Asaan came in, looked around, and started walking towards me. It took him a while, though, because every few feet, someone sitting at the counter or in one of the other booths would stop him. Some people engaged him in quiet conversation for a moment, while others simply acknowledged him by nodding and saying, “Mr. Spoon” or “Asaan” as he passed.
By the time he sat down opposite me, our waitress had brought my order. Asaan didn’t bother with the menu. He just looked at our waitress and said, “I’ll have the usual, Shirley.”
Shirley smiled, then gave me a that’s-the-way-you’re-supposed-to-order look, and departed.
I raised my eyebrows, and Asaan shrugged and said, “It’s close to the school and Community Outreach, the food’s good, and I’m a lousy cook.”
I nodded, then told him about my phone call to Anthony the previous night. When I got to the part about Razor and former leaders of the Gates running the new gang together, he said, “That’s probably my doing.”
“How so?” I asked.
Last Friday, when you and I talked at the school?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I sat down with Razor and the three idiots in charge of the Gates, suggested they think about joining forces. They started arguing right away about who’d be the boss, so I said why not have a ruling council kind of thing. Each of the Gates kids would have one vote, Razor would have two, and anything they voted on would need four votes to pass. That way, in order to get anything accomplished, they’d have to form some alliances and work together.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said.
“Yeah, but that in-the-LAW-for-life stuff, I don’t know where that came from. When I talked to those kids, I stressed that nobody should be forced to be a part of anything, that it should all be voluntary.”
By this time, Asaan’s breakfast had arrived, and he busied himself with his eggs and bacon and chunky home fries. Not exactly the repast that a nutritionist would have recommended, but I figured he was making up for all those prison buffets.
There was no easy way around my next question.
“Why do you think they shut you out yesterday?”
“I been thinking about that,” he said. “Gotta be Razor. None of the other three is even close to being a real leader. That’s why none of them ever managed to take over the Gates. They’re all pretty easy to manipulate. But Razor, he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, no pun intended, but he’s sneaky and he’s cunning. My guess is he’s planning on eventually being the boss of the LAW.”
That scenario made sense. I shifted the emphasis a little and said, “How are things at Franklin today?” I assumed he’d been over there earlier.
“So far, so good,” he said. “I was there at six-thirty this morning. When the kids started drifting in, everybody seemed okay. Incidentally, I talked to Javon Reynolds, one of the Three Amigos from the Gates, and I asked him about Razor. Javon just said that Razor had some good ideas about makin’ the LAW somethin’ special.”
He’d finished his meal by now, and he started reaching for his check. I grabbed it and said, “On me, Asaan. I appreciate your time.”
He nodded and said, “I gotta get back to the school.” Then he tossed some bills on the table for Shirley and left.
I drove home and changed and went out for a run. I needed to think about this whole situation, and running often helps me with the thinking thing. Not today, though. An hour later, dripping with sweat, I was still pretty much clueless about Anthony and his involvement with the LAW. Then I remembered something else Anthony had told me the night before, right before we’d ended our conversation. He’d said that Razor had told him that T-Man hadn’t known how to run a gang, but that he, Razor, did, and that he had lots of ideas for things the LAW could do. He’d also told Anthony that the guys in the LAW would have jackets and hats and stuff. That was the phrase Anthony had used, jackets and hats and stuff.
I thought about all this while I showered and dressed and sat down at the island in my kitchen with a glass of milk and an orange scone I’d picked up a couple of days earlier. Still good. Some people might say the scone was a little stale. I preferred to think of it as crunchy. I also find that the thinking thing works better when I’m eating. Hey, it’s a theory.
Finally, I just went outside and sat on my porch steps. It was still warm, and I was beginning to hope that this might be the year that winter forgot Pittsburgh. I thought about what Razor had said to Anthony about things the LAW could do. Maybe Razor was planning some sort of Toys for Tots campaign. Then again, maybe not. I also thought about the jackets and hats and stuff. That would take money. Perhaps Razor was going to organize car washes and hoagie sales. No, that would fall into the category of what’s wrong with this picture.
I shifted my position a
