cut and half of his belongings were strewn in the yard. Two large men were carrying his sofa bed into the alley. They dropped it like it was some kind of garbage and not a man furniture at all. He saw his old radio crushed on the ground next to the sofa.
?Hold up!? Socrates cried running toward the men. ?What the fuck you think you doin' here??
The men were large and black. They had done hard labor for their entire lives but they weren't old like Socrates. Neither one of them had seen his thirtieth birthday.
?What the fuck you think, old man?? one destroyer said. He had close-cropped hair and wore overalls with no shirt underneath. The sweat on his dark brown skin made him glisten with the promise of violence.
His friend wore no shirt at all and had long dreadlocks cascading down on his corded shoulders. The men stood together against the foul-mouthed intruder, as if daring him to speak again.
?I think,? Socrates said slowly. ?That you lookin' to be two dead men.?
In his younger days Socrates would have already crushed these men. They might have already been dead, but Socrates was a changed man. He gave his enemies a warning, a five-second window in which to drop what they were doing and run. The man in the overalls had enough sense to put up a protective arm before Socrates hit him. The arm padded the blow enough to save him from a broken jaw or a trip to the morgue. His friend tried to do what was right. He threw some kind of karate chop at Socrates' head. He even connected while grunting loudly to increase the force of his blow. Socrates grabbed the man by his long hair and sent him sliding across the dirt and broken glass of the asphalt alley.
Then Socrates picked up one of the steel pipes that he always left lying around his yard in case he needed a weapon quickly in the middle of the night. The man in the overalls was semiconscious but his friend was aware and on his feet.
?You get the fuck away from here, man,? Socrates warned. ?Or the next time I touch you will be last thing you ever feel.?
Dreadlocks knew what Socrates said was true. He wouldn't even cross the alley to help his downed companion.
?It's you in trouble, man,? he yelled at Socrates. ?That ain't your place. You in there illegal and they hired us to move your stuff. The cops gonna come after this. The law gonna come down on you now.?
The man in the overalls was trying to rise. Socrates pulled him up by his straps and pushed him toward his friend. Together the house wreckers stumbled away from Socrates' home, down the alley to report their failure. Socrates watched them, willing himself to stay where he was and not go after his hidden handgun.
?You showed 'em, Mr. Fortlow,? Irene Melendez shouted from her own backyard across the alley. ?I told 'em they didn't want to mess with the master of that house but they didn't listen. They didn't listen and now they got to go to the clinic an' get all sewed up.?
The small Louisianan woman was so happy that Socrates smiled again.
?Where they say they was from?? he asked his neighbor of nine years.
?First they told me it wasn't none of my business. Told me to go back in my house and shut up. But when I said I was callin' the cops they said it was Mr. Lomax from Cherry Hill Developers. They said that Mr. Lomax owns these here stores and that he wanna sell 'em so you had to go.?
Socrates nodded and gave her an evil grin. ?We'll see about all that,? he said.
The police showed up within two hours of the fight but Brenda Marsh had already made it to Socrates' back alley home. The slender, mocha-colored woman had hair that she'd dyed blond and wore a rose-colored two-piece suit with a bright yellow blouse underneath. She had represented Socrates once before when he had been arrested for assault. And even though he didn't like her hairstyle or way of talking Socrates kept her number because a poor man didn't necessarily have to like his friends.
She met the three officers at the door.
?My client is not here at the moment, officers,? the young lawyer said. ?He had to go out but I am aware of the events that took place this afternoon.?
?Leon Burris and Almond Trapps have sworn out a complaint against Mr. Fortlow,? Officer Wayne Leontine said. ?Where is he??
?Mr. Fortlow was protecting his property from those men, Officer Leontine. They broke into his home unlawfully and threw his property into the street.?
?That's not for me to judge, Ms. Marsh,? Officer Leontine said. He had come with two other uniforms. Socrates watched them from Mrs. Melendez's house across the alley. He smiled when he saw three cops.
