The Cherry Hill Development Company was on the twelfth floor of the Astor building on Crenshaw. It had glass doors and a beautiful black receptionist who wore African cloths cut in a western style. When she looked up at Socrates to ask his business, his heart skipped once and he forgot everything that he had come there to say.
?Yes?? the child asked.
?Has anybody told you how beautiful you are yet today, uh, Malva?? Socrates asked looking at the nameplate on her desk.
Her smile was a gift that only a man who'd spent half of his life in prison could appreciate.
?Not yet,? she said. ?Who are you??
?Socrates Fortlow.?
The frown that came across Malva's face brought back the business at hand.
?Oh,? Malva said. ?Please sit down. I'll call Mr. Lomax.?
?Come in, Fortlow,? Ira Lomax said. His office had a glass wall that looked out over the Hollywood Hills. His desk, which was shaped like the body of a guitar, was made from white ash.
Lomax was tall and well dressed, black and a little greasy. He stood taller than Socrates but lacked the bulk to reinforce his height.
?Sit down, why don't you??
Socrates took a seat. Lomax remained standing.
?I'm surprised to see you, Fortlow. But I'm glad that you're here. Maybe we can get a few problems ironed out without any more difficulty.? Lomax was a crook. Socrates knew that from the moment he walked into the room. A man who was too smart to rob a Stop n' Save but too stupid to fly right.
?You see,? Lomax said when Socrates stayed quiet, ?you're costing this company money. You attacked my employees. And just because some foolish judge doesn't know the law that doesn't mean you can hold us up.?
The silence that followed Lomax's declaration didn't bother Socrates. He looked the sleek land developer up and down and sucked on a tooth.
?Heavy fists won't stand up to my kind of power, Fortlow. All I have to do is make a quick phone call and your apartment will disappear. If I stay on the line a minute more you could be gone too.?
When James came into his mind Socrates knew that he was experiencing fear. James, he thought, was afraid of getting beaten or raped or killed. Socrates wondered if the boy had used his saltshaker on Lex.
With that thought Socrates stood straight up from his chair. Ira Lomax stumbled backward and took in a gasp of air.
?Listen to me, Ira,? Socrates said. ?I know that you know people. I probably even know some'a the people you do. I been to Blackbird's bar an' I'm sure you have too. But I'm not like they are. I don't do it for money, brother. I ain't a thief or a leg-breaker, I ain't a robber or con man. I'm a killer plain and simple. A killer.?
Socrates paused to allow his words to have their meaning then he continued, ?I lived in that place for nine years. If you added up the money I owed it's probably ten, twelve thousand dollars. So if I turn that around then it would be you owe me instead'a I owe you. I'm sure your banker bosses would think that was a good price.?
?I ain't payin' you shit, niggah.? Lomax's voice was harsh but his eyes were like James's.
?Then you better not miss,? Socrates said before he turned and walked out of the door.
For a week or so there was talk about Lomax around the hood. Iula heard a few things in the diner and Chip Lowe got the word through members of the watch. There were men willing to inflict pain for money but Socrates was nowhere to be found. He rarely showed up at his alley home. Killer moved across the street to stay with Mrs. Melendez for a while.
One evening Socrates showed up at Blackbird's bar. He took the new owner, Craig Hatter, to the side for a powwow.
Late the next morning Socrates showed up at Lomax's big home in View Park. He wasn't admitted by the housekeeper and so he merely left the expensive box of chocolates he brought as a gift. The box was big, red and velvet, in the form of a Valentine's heart.
