'Not in this neighborhood,' Lula said. 'Most of these people don't got jobs unless you count holding up liquor stores as a profession.'
I checked my rear-view mirror and saw one of the corner watchers put a cell phone to his ear.
`I'm getting a bad feeling,' I said.
That's because you're a minority here.'
'You mean being white?'
'No. I mean you're the only one for blocks not packin' a gun.'
I cruised past Fifth and started looking for a way out. I didn't want to go deeper into the 'hood. I wanted to get back to Stark and head for city center. I turned left onto Sixth and realized the truck in front of me wasn't moving. It was double-parked. No one at the wheel. I put the Buick into reverse and inched back. I was about to pull onto Comstock when a kid appeared from out of nowhere. He was in his late teens, and he looked like a clone of the guys on the corner.
He approached the car and rapped on the driver-side window.
'Hey,' he said.
'You might want to ignore him,' Lula said. 'And it might not be a bad idea to back up a little faster.'
`I'd like to back up faster, but there are a couple really nasty-looking guys at my bumper. If I back up I'll run over them.'
'So what's your point?'
'I know you,' the kid at my window said, his face inches from the glass. 'You're a fucking bounty hunter. You busted my uncle. You were with some Rambo guy. And you're the one fingered Red
Devil.'
The car started to rock, and I realized the guys in the back were on the bumper. More faces pressed against the side windows.
'Step on the freaking gas,' Lula said. 'It don't matter if you run these clowns over. They've been run over lots of times. Look at them. Don't they look like they've been run over?'
The guy at your window is saying something. What's he saying?'
'How would I know,' Lula said. 'It's gangsta talk shit. Something about kill the bitches. And now he's licking the glass. You're gonna have to Clorox this car if we ever get outa here.'
All right, I have three options. I can call Joe and have him send the police. That would be really embarrassing, and they might not get here in time to stop the bitch killing. The second choice is that
I call Ranger. Equally embarrassing. And there might be bloodshed. Not mine, probably. Or I could run over a couple of these fine, upstanding young men.
I'm getting real nervous about this,' Lula said. 'I think you might have made a bad decision to come into this neighborhood.'
I felt my blood pressure edge up a notch. This was your idea.'
'Well, it was a bad idea. I'm willing to admit that now.'
The Buick bounced around a little, and I could hear scraping, thumping sounds overhead. The idiots were jumping up and down on the roof.
'Your grandma's not gonna like it one bit if they scratch her car,'
Lula said. This here's a classic.'
'Hey,' I yelled to the guy with his face pressed against my window. 'Back off from the car. It's a classic.'
'Classic this, bitch,' he said. And he pulled a gun out of his baggy pants and aimed it at me, the barrel about an inch from the window glass.
'Holy shit,' Lula said, eyes the size of duck eggs. 'Get me the fudge out of here.'
Option number three, I thought. And I mashed the accelerator down to the floorboard. The car sucked gas and roared back like a freight train. I didn't feel any bumps under the tires indicating that