?Who sent you?? Socrates asked.
?Marty Gonzalez asked me to represent you.?
?Shit,? Socrates said through the mouthpiece in the wire-reinforced plate glass. ?Man, I couldn't even buy you pomade.?
Ernesto Chavez had perfect white teeth and a good sense of humor to show them off.
?You got that right, bro,? he said. ?But this is free.?
?Free??
?Marty used to bring me a care package from the store every week when I was in law school. You know ?? Chavez finished the sentence by rubbing his hands together indicating how one washed the other.
Socrates understood.
?So,? Ernesto continued. ?You got a problem here.?
?Somebody killed a girl and dumped her in the alley not too far from my door. I was in for a murder in sixty-one. They think it's in my blood.?
?Did you tell them anything??
?Nuthin' to tell.?
?But maybe they made something up,? Ernesto suggested. ?Your eye's kinda swollen.?
?I asked 'em for a lawyer. They said that there wasn't no charge.?
The young man's eyes rolled and a smile flitted underneath his mustache.
?You have some good friends, Mr. Fortlow. They came down here with the money to get you out but I think a quick call to the court will work just as well. You didn't tell 'em anything, right??
Socrates stood up and gestured to the guard that he was ready to leave.
Outside the police station that morning Socrates found Marty Gonzalez, his friend Howard Shakur and Darryl, along with the lawyer, Ernie Chavez. Howard was by far the largest of the men and Socrates was most surprised to see him there.
?Darryl called me,? triple-chinned Howard said. ?He got my number from Luvia and called out to Venice.?
?Are you okay, Socco?? Marty Gonzalez asked. ?Did they do that to your eye??
Socrates didn't answer Marty's question. There were too many things going through his head. It was early in the morning. Each man there was missing something, work or sleep or a paycheck or school.
?You okay, Mr. Fortlow?? Ernesto Chavez asked.
?Man, I don't even know you,? Socrates said.
?He's my cousin,? Marty Gonzalez said.
All Socrates could do was stare. His friends looked at each other.
?Well,? big Howard said. ?I got to go home and get to bed. You know I just did the graveyard shift. You wanna ride to school, Darryl??
The boy looked at Socrates.
?Try to stay in it this time,? Socrates said.
?You wanna ride to work?? Marty asked.
?No.? Socrates was curt. ?I got to do some things at home first. I'll be in at about noon.?
