That was the last thing on Socrates' mind, and then the phone was ringing again. He got up and pulled the plug from the wall. When the ringer cut off midtone Socrates relaxed.
Bob's Used Appliances was on Grand Street in downtown L.A. The storefront led to a long and slender aisle piled high on each side with irons, radios, waffle presses, percolators, and just about every other electrical countertop appliance that existed.
Tony LaPort had told Socrates that Bob's was the best place to buy something used.
?Bob give ya a guarantee,? Tony said. ?One year and he'll fix anything go wrong.?
Tony and Socrates were on friendly terms once more now that Tony had tried to live with Iula again but failed. Tony was happy in his bachelorhood.
?Five weeks with a woman was just about enough to last me the rest'a my life,? Tony told Socrates.
Sitting immediately inside the door of Bob's Used Appliances was a surly-looking Mexican man. His gaze locked with Socrates' and there was a moment of recognition. The two men had never met but they had something in common: a toughness, a solitary self reliance. The nod they shared was the consolation of heroes home from a war that was lost.
Bob himself was a white man in his sixties but he still had a full head of dirty blond hair. He was seated behind a wood desk at the end of the narrow corridor.
?Tony sent ya, huh?? the white man said. ?He got a good place down there.?
Bob was missing one front tooth and the rest were worn down into nubs. For a moment Socrates imagined that the white man chewed on the metal utilities while fixing them.
?Refrigerator huh?? Bob said to himself. ?Hey, Julio.?
The man at the front of the store grunted something.
?I'm goin' out back with Mr. Fortlow here. You take over.?
Julio raised his left hand in a halfhearted pledge and then let it drop.
?Come on,? Bob said to Socrates. He pulled on a bookshelf to his left and it swung open like a door.
Bob led the way through a short hallway that was so cramped that Socrates' shoulders rubbed against the walls as he went. This hallway opened into an extremely large room full of appliances that would have never fit into the slender sales room. Washing machines, generators, TVs, there was even a giant strobe light in a far-off corner.
The room was organized according to appliance type. There was a whole row of full-sized refrigerators. Beyond that was a little cul-de-sac of small ones.
?Westinghouse is your best bet,? Bob was saying. He patted the top of a two-foot-square drab green unit. ?They built these suckers to last.?
?How much?? Socrates asked. He felt oppressed in that dank atmosphere. The smell reminded him of his days in prison.
?Twenty bucks for this one,? Bob said.
?That's all??
?I took this one in for scrap and it worked. I opened her up but there wasn't anything wrong.? Bob squatted down and rubbed his hand over the metal door. ?You see they had these deep scratches in the paint. I figure that it was an eyesore and the owners just chucked it. That's America for ya. Nobody believes in utility. One day they'll start scrappin' kids for havin' crossed eyes or fat butts.?
Bob looked up at Socrates and winked.
?Most the things I get in here still work,? the fixer continued. ?It's just that they went outta style in some way or they got marred.?
Socrates looked around the vast workroom again. It reminded him more than ever of prison.
?How much it weigh?? Socrates asked.
?Twenty-five, thirty. Big fella like you could carry it easy. I got some rope over there. You could make a shoulder
