Socrates was surprised that Hoagland had such thin lips. ?A black man, a horn player,? he told Stony Wile a few weeks later. ?And he had lips like a white girl ain't never been kissed.?
Near dawn Myrtle and Hoagland's horn both ran dry. The little man was flagging, head dipping halfway to his knees.
?What you do with all that money?? Socrates asked.
?Spent it,? the musician said. ?Spent every dime. Real brandy and real blondes. Stayed in hotels where the ashtrays cost more than my whole Mississippi cotton-pickin' family could pull down in a year. Huh. Shit. I'd drop a hundred dollars on a handkerchief or tie. You know I done lived.?
?So why you out in a alley in Watts tonight?? Socrates asked. ?What brought you down here??
?Black man cain't keep nuthin', brother. All we could do is borrah an' you know the white man wan' it all back?wit' interest.?
Socrates didn't wake up until ten thirty-five. His pocket change was missing from the kitchen counter. Twenty dollars he kept in a sock in a shoe under the sofa bed was gone. He didn't remember pulling down the bed or falling in it. He hadn't heard Hoagland Mars stealing and neither did he care.
Socrates got to work at twelve fifteen. The first thing he saw was Jason Fulbright headed straight for him down the center aisle. But before Jason reached Socrates Marty Gonzalez grabbed the assistant manager by the arm and talked to him, told a joke, it seemed, and then sent him on his way.
The stocky manager greeted Socrates and smiled. ?You look a little better,? Marty said.
?Say what??
?I told Jason that you told me yesterday that you were sick and had to see the doctor. You know I'd forget my head if it wasn't for my neck.?
?I'll make it up, Marty. I'll stay late and help the twins with their inventory.?
Socrates skipped lunch and both his breaks. He worked straight until eight forty-five and then hurried out of the sliding doors.
?Socco!? Marty called at the big man's back. ?Hey, Socrates.?
?I gotta run, Marty. I got to catch the eight fifty bus. The next one is over a hour from now.?
?Hold up,? Marty said. ?I'll give you a ride down to Venice and you can catch the two eighty-three.?
He slapped Socrates hard on the back and walked him out to his Ford Explorer. In the high driver's seat Socrates rode with no seat belt looking out at the dark streets of Beverly Hills.
?Car's nicer than my place,? Socrates said. ?Bet you pay more on insurance than I pay rent.?
?What's your rent?? Marty asked.
?Nuthin'. I used to pay this dude but he musta died or sumpin'. But you know the place ain't worth much, it's just a space between two empty stores.?
?Yeah, well,? Marty said as he swerved past a red Bonneville that had loud bass music playing out of its open trunk. ?I guess you can't beat that.?
?Yeah,? Socrates said, not really agreeing.
?So, Socco,? Marty said. ?What about that produce job??
?I got a job. I mean I know it's a low hourly wage but I get tips for deliveries and I know if I get sick that somebody can take my place.?
?I looked up your record. Today's the first time you were ever even late as far as I can see. You've only been sick twice.?
?Man, I was four hours late today, I'm almost sixty, and you don't know me. How you know that you could trust me with that kinda responsibility??
?I want you to be one of my men, Socco,? Marty said. ?I need people who I can rely on to roll up their sleeves, people who work.?
