He wasn’t planning to use it tonight, but if the Jets thought he wasn’t ready to play it cool, if they started something funny, they were going to be in for a sharp surprise. Seven inches of surprise.

Bernardo waited for a car to pass him, then darted across the road and dug his heels into the embankment as he descended slowly, with care, because this was no time to turn an ankle. His eyes were accustomed to the dark and he could see that despite the heat some of the Sharks wore their jackets over T shirts.

With a sharp signal he identified himself, heard Chino and Pepe call his name, and heard one of the Jets say that the chief spic had finally shown. Spic… sometime when he had the time he would show them what a spic could really do. Man, the blood would really flow.

“Fan out,” he ordered the Sharks. “And keep your eyes on me. If they start anything…”

“We’ll be watching, ’Nardo,” Toro said. “We don’t trust them no how.”

“I’ll second you,” Chino said as Bernardo began to remove his shirt.

“Fine,” Bernardo agreed. He flexed the muscles of his back and shoulders, and checked the knife in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Our man is ready.” Chino called.

“So’s ours,” Riff said. “Let’m come center and shake hands.”

Bernardo spit into the darkness. “For what?”

“Because that’s how it’s done,” Riff said, after he turned to laugh with the Jets at the ignorant PR’s.

“More gracious living?” Bernardo asked. “Look…” He pointed at Diesel and Riff, but included all the Jets and anyone like them. “I don’t go for that pretend crap you go for in this country. “Every one of you hates every one of us…”

“You’re so right,” Riff interrupted.

“… and we hate you double, right back. I don’t drink with nobody I hate.” Bernardo spat again, “So I don’t shake hands with nobody I hate.” Fists raised and ready, he stepped forward carefully.

“Okay,” Riff said, “if that’s the way you want it.” He stepped to one side and signaled Diesel. “He’s all yours.”

Scowling heavily as he opened and shut his right fist, Diesel moved in slowly. He was heavier than Bernardo and the light wasn’t as good as he would have liked it; but he was confident of being able to take anything Bernardo threw. Still, he was careful, for although the spic was light he had a reputation as a hard hitter. Bernardo had built up a real rep as a street fighter and there were some who said that if he could get the hate out of his system, really be cool and businesslike about it, he could at the very least become a good TV welterweight, because he could hit like a light-heavy.

Diesel threw a tentative jab with his left which the spic avoided by taking a backward step before he countered with his own left and Diesel brushed it aside easily. Again Diesel threw the left, feinted as if to throw the right and moved his head in time to avoid Bernardo’s fist, which just grazed his ear.