Unconsciously Fulbright took half a step back, but Socrates could see in the man's face that he still intended to say something else. And no matter what he said it was going to cause a fight. Not a fight but a slaughter. Fulbright was tall and strong from playing sport, but he didn't know the meaning of the kind of violence he called up in the ex-con. Socrates couldn't shake the fists out of his hands.
Good morning, Jason, Socrates, Marty Gonzalez, the senior store manager said.
Fulbright and Fortlow had to turn away from each other in order to return the greeting.
Mr. Gonzales, Jason said.
Socrates merely nodded. He liked the fire plug manager. Marty had once shown Socrates a pocket watch he carried that held a picture of his great-grandsire, Ernesto Gonzalez, pasted opposite the timepiece. He remarked on how much he looked like his ancestor from Sonora but how little like him he was.
I don't speak Spanish, Marty had said. Been to Vietnam but never to Mexico. My wife was born in Denmark. My kid has blue hair and thinks that Taco Bell is all he needs to know about Chicano culture.
Now he stood between them.
What's happening? the dark-eyed manager asked.
I don't know what the heck's going on to tell you the truth, Mr. Gonzalez, Jason began.
He was going to say more but Marty cut him off. Uh-huh. Hey, Jason, why don't you go and make sure that the twins did a shelf count and order form last night?
Okay, Mr. Gonzalez. If that's what you want. Jason fixed his brown and red striped tie and gave the two men a questioning stare.
Yeah, Marty said, clapping Jason on the shoulder. You just go on and check out the twins' work.
The twins were Sarah Shulberg, a Jewish girl who lived on Spalding Drive, and Robyn Craig, a light-skinned Negro child whose father was a plastic surgeon with an office on Roxbury. Sarah and Robyn did everything together. They dressed alike, talked about cute boys. Their mothers took turns driving them to work and home again.
I swear I'ma break that mothahfuckah's head right open he don't get up offa me, Socrates said loudly as Jason walked away.
Marty gestured with both hands for his employee to lower the volume.
I know, the manager said. He was broad but short and had to look up to address the big man. He's a prissy prick.
You better talk to him, Marty, Socrates said. He come up here sayin' that my watch must be busted, that I better get on a earlier bus. Man, I take the first bus leave in the mornin' an' I ain't ever even owned no watch.
It's okay, Socco. Jason's just a kiss ass. He don't know.
He gonna find out soon enough he keep on fuckin' wit' me like that.
What's bothering you, Socco?
Nuthin', the big man said. He just made me mad, that's all.
Marty nodded and looked down at his feet.
Yeah, he's a bitch all right, the manager said. Why don't you'n me and Hector unload the big truck this mornin'? Give us somethin' to do.
Socrates liked unloading the big truck that delivered on Monday mornings. Tons of groceries had to be pulled off onto the loading dock at the side of the store. It was hard work but Socrates was a strong man. More often than not he was the strongest man in the room.
He lifted and toted, stacked and wheeled thousands of pounds off the truck that day. Hector La Forna and Marty Gonzalez had to take turns just to keep up with the big, bald, black man. He worked until the sweat was glistening on his head. He knew he'd be sore for a week because even though his muscles were strong they were still old and reluctant.
Lets break for lunch, Marty suggested at eleven fifteen.
Lunch ain't till twelve twenty for the seven forty-five shift, Socrates reminded him.
Fuck that. Let's get some corned beef sandwiches from the deli and go over to the park. I'll tell Jason that he can be in charge while we're gone. That'll give him such a hard-on that his wife'll send me a thank-you card.
The little patch of green across the street from the Bounty supermarket had a park bench and table, a bronze statue of a nameless prospector and a boulder more than nine feet high and almost as broad, all shaded by a very old and green pine. Marty bought the sandwiches, with beer for after the meal. Socrates accepted the apology for Jason Fulbright's behavior and relaxed for the first time since three thirty-four that morning.
After some solid eating and drinking Socrates nodded and blinked. Maybe he napped for a minute or three. In the stupor he leaned a little too far forward and had to jerk up quickly to keep from falling.
Marty was grinning at him.
What time is it? Socrates made to stand but relaxed when Marty put up his hand.
It's about a quarter to one.
I'm a half hour late. What's Fulbright gonna do wit' that?
What's wrong, Socco? Why're you so nervous today? Marty's eyes were so black that they seemed like bullet holes to the ex-con.
Wrong? Lotsa stuff is wrong. All kinds a shit. I seen in the paper last night where the cops beat up a whole truckload of illegal Mexicans again. Right in broad daylight. Right on TV. But nobody cares. They didn't learn nothin' from them riots.
But that's every day, Mr. Fortlow, Marty said. What's wrong today? I mean, they didn't kick your butt.
You mean they didn't try. 'Cause you know, man, the next moth-ahfuckah try an' kick my ass gonna be dead. Cop or whatever. I don't play that shit. How about that for wrong?
Marty Gonzalez was lying on his side, propped up on an elbow.
What? Socrates asked after a few moments' silence.
I didn't say anything.
You wanna go back?
Whatever you say, Socco. Marty shrugged one shoulder but otherwise stayed still.
You ever worry that you might be goin' crazy, Marty? Socrates didn't even know what he'd been thinking until the question found words.
Marty nodded. Every time my wife's mother comes to dinner until about an hour after she leaves.
Socrates' laugh sounded like far-off explosions, a battery of cannon laying siege to a defenseless town.
You always been a fool, Marty?
I guess so. What about you?
Yeah, I guess, Socrates rubbed his rock-breaking left hand over his pate. Fool to begin wit' now it looks like I'm comin' back for another shot at it. You know I was gonna break Jason's face for 'im if you didn't show up.
And I almost let you do it too. Marty smiled. You'd be doing that brother a favor but I'd surely hate to lose you, Socco. You're the only full-grown man in the whole store. Outside of you, it's just women, kids and kiss asses.
Socrates laughed again. Yeah, he said. I know what you mean. Uh-huh. Sometimes I wonder how some'a these men get dressed in the mornin'. An' here I got to listen to this shit just to make four ninety-five a hour.
That's all we're payin' you? Marty actually seemed shocked.
Yeah. Don't you know what you pay people?
Uh-uh. They cut the checks by grade downtown. But I thought you'd at least be a grade four by now. You been here over a year. That boy you look after, Darryl's making four sixty.
Shit. I'm lucky to have a job. Socrates looked left and right then pulled himself up and on to his feet. We better be gettin' back.
Marty stood up too. He put himself face to neck with the big black man. Gibbs is leaving the produce department to go downtown. He's going to supervise the southwestern purchasing area.