Socrates had enough talk for right then. He wandered off for another whiskey and a few words with Venus. He didn't dance but stood near a mob of men and women shaking to the music.
Socrates nodded to people here and there but he didn't enter into any conversations. Lavant was talking to everybody and Venus was busy with her bottles and paper cups. So Socrates wandered the perimeter of the first floor, locating boarded-up windows and doors.
Once he ran into Shy, who was coming out of the shadows with a young white man. They were both smiling broadly.
Hi, Socrates. The yellow lips wrapped themselves around his name.
Tell me sumpin', Socrates requested.
What?
Do they like rent this place or what?
Her smile was anything but shy.
We know a lotta construction workers and supply people and just plain old folks in the neighborhoods. So when one'a them sees that a place is empty we check it out and make our plans. Sometimes we up in a nice area and somebody let us use their home.
But this here is trespassin'? Socrates asked.
Only if we get caught. Shy puckered up her bright lips and kissed the air between her and Socrates.
For all his experience the ex-convict knew little about women. He had lived among men for most of his adult years. He nodded and backed away from her like a barefoot traveler who had come upon a snake.
I'll prove it, someone said from behind a walled-off corner.
Socrates peered around the edge and saw a young black woman and a white man standing about three feet apart and staring hard into each other's eyes. She wore a black leather micromini with a tight-fitting elastic halter top. He held a large hunting knife in his left hand. Her eyes seemed to be pleading for this proof and so Socrates held back to see what would happen.
The white man, who was dark haired and half bald, raised his right hand and slashed the wrist. He dropped the knife holding the bleeding hand high. A look of deep satisfaction and grief worked its way into the young woman's features. She took a step forward and touched his bloody fingers. For long seconds she gazed into his unseen face.
Socrates was breathing hard. He'd never witnessed anything like this, not even in prison where suicide was commonplace.
The woman's mouth opened but no words came out. She pulled off the halter. If there wasn't so much blood being let Socrates might have been impressed by her nakedness. She used the halter as a bandage, wrapping it tightly around the wound. She gazed deeply into the white man's face with a need deeper than any love Socrates had known.
The blood was still dripping down between them but slower with the dressing. Socrates watched the lovers as long as they gazed at each other. But when they moved into an embrace he turned away.
A few minutes past three A.M., Socrates was talking to Lavant and the white woman, Alice, asking if there would be someone to give him a ride home, when someone yelled, Police!
Com'on, Socrates ordered his friend. Then he went toward the back of the building as the tin-plated entrance filled with cops in full riot gear.
Socrates made it to a window that had been blocked with thin plywood. Two well-placed kicks and Socrates, along with Venus, Alice and Lavant, was outside in a concrete yard.
With a nudge of Socrates' shoulder the padlocked fence opened up. Then they were running down the alley, heavy footsteps not far behind.
Socrates allowed Lavant and the women to go before him while he caught a glance of the people behind. They were other refugees from the rave, stumbling along in their awkward party shoes.
From somewhere behind them came the command, Halt! Police!
Keep on goin'! Socrates told his friends. And then he ran hard with his head down. He knew that the cops would have their hands full with the other escapees. The only thing to worry about was a shot that might go wild.
But no shots were fired.
When the four reached the alley, Alice shouted, My car's at the end of the block!
It was a copper-toned Jaguar sedan. Socrates and Venus piled in the back. When Alice hit the gas, Socrates laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and said, Slow it down to a walk, sugar, we ain't outta the bag yet.
He left his hand there for twenty blocks or more, until Alice finally moaned, You're hurting me.
Socrates sat back thinking about prison; about how they could have pulled him in for B and E. One small party and the rest of his life could have been spent in stir.
Mothahfuckahs, he whispered.
Everyone else was silent.
The rage of the ex-con filled up the car but he was unaware of its effect. All he could think about was how small his cell had been. He couldn't even turn around comfortably. He couldn't play music or go through the bars for a bottle of wine. He couldn't even close his own door or open it for a visitor or friend.
It was cramped in Alice's car too. He thought about going home but his apartment was also small and cell-like. He was a prisoner-in-waiting on the streets as far as the cops were concerned.
Those thoughts played through his head again and again. Socrates paid no heed to the car's direction.
When Lavant sighed and said, That was a close one, Socrates didn't hear him.
You saved us, from Venus, could have been the passing blare of a horn.
The music from the party along with the scramble of feet on the gravel of the alley still filled Socrates' ears. He slipped into a daze that was closer to sleep than it was to consciousness. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and his blood ran cool.
Alice drove them up into Malibu hills, to her home.
The living room was sunken below the entrance hall. It was shallow and arching but over fifty feet wide. The walls were all glass. To the left you could see the million winking lights of Los Angeles and to the right there was darkness where Socrates knew the ocean lay.
Nice, eh, Socco? Lavant said at his shoulder.
Yeah, Socrates said. Yeah, this is more like it.
If you like the view now, Alice said. Wait until the sun comes up.
She wasn't yet forty, Socrates surmised, thin and plain, but the hunger in her eyes made up for a bad complexion. She wore a green, loose-knit sweater dress that came down to mid-thigh.
Lavant came up and put his arm around her.
I can hardly wait, Socrates said. To see the sun come up and not be in jail are the two best things there is.
Lavant and Alice went off to her bed. Venus touched Socrates' shoulder but he told her that he was going to stay up for a while.
Venus was well named but Socrates was too angry to be with a woman. He didn't feel safe in his own skin.
He opened the sliding glass door and sat out on the terrace that looked over Alice's rock garden, swimming pool and the sea. He couldn't make out the ocean but he could smell it and every once in a while there came the faint sound of breaking waves.
Two hours later the Pacific shifted into existence and morning gulls cried. Socrates sat completely still, afraid to move a finger lest the spell would break.
The smell of coffee came with daylight.
Good morning, Mr. Fortlow, Alice said at the door. She came out with a cup of coffee in each hand.
Mornin', Socrates said. Thank you.
His hostess wore a full-length white terry cloth robe. She sat down in the chair beside him.
I love this view, she said. There were dark patches under her eyes and her hair was a mess.
It's like we ran through hell and went right up to heaven, Socrates said. Damn.
Venus and Lavant soon appeared and they went off saying that they would make breakfast. Alice joined them but Socrates stayed outside. He walked down through the rock garden, stuck his toes in the pool. He walked out to the edge of the property which looked down into a sheer gorge that led down to the sea.