Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned (Socrates Fortlow 1) by Walter Mosley Read Free Book Online Page A

like I’m shit. They scared’a me ’cause you out there pretendin’ that you’re me robbin’ them.”
    Wilfred held up his hands in a false gesture of surrender and laughed. “You too deep for me, brother,” he said. He was smiling but alert to the violence in the older man’s words. “Way too deep.”
    “You the one shovelin’ it, man. You the one out there stealin’ from the white man an’ blamin’ me. You the one wanna be like them in their clothes. You hatin’ them an’ dressed like the ones you hate. You don’t even know who the hell you is!”
    Socrates had to stop himself from striking Wilfred. He was shaking, scared of his own hands again.
    “I know who I am all right, brother,” Wilfred said. “And I’m a damn sight better’n you.”
    “No you not,” Socrates said. A sense of calm came over him. “No you not. You just dressin’ good, eatin’ like a pig. But when the bill come due I’m the one got t’pay it. Me an’ all the rest out here.”
    “All right, fine!” Wilfred shouted. “But the only one right now payin’ fo’ somethin’ is me. I’m the one got you that food you been eatin’. But if you don’t like it then pay for it yourself.”
    Iula came out again. Socrates noted the pot of steaming water she carried.
    “I do you better than that, boy,” Socrates said. “I’ll pay for yo’ four dinners too.”
    “What?” Wilfred and Iula both said.
    “All of it,” Socrates said. “I’ll pay for it all.”
    “You a new fool, man,” Wilfred said.
    Socrates stood up and then bent down to pick up Wilfred’s stickup clothes from the floor.
    “You always got to pay, Wilfred. But I’ll take this bill. I’ll leave the one out there for you.”
    Wilfred faked a laugh and took the clothes from Socrates.
    “Get outta here, man,” Socrates said.
    For a moment death hung between the two men. Wilfred was full of violence and pride and Socrates was sick of violent and prideful men.
    “I don’t want no trouble in here now!” Iula shouted when she couldn’t take the tension anymore.
    Wilfred smiled again and nodded. “You win, old man,” he said. “But you crazy though.”
    “Just get outta here,” Socrates said. “Go.”
    Wilfred considered for the final time doing something. He was probably faster than the older man. But it was a small space and strength canceled out speed in close quarters.
    Socrates read all of that in Wilfred’s eyes. Another young fool, he knew, who thought freedom was out the back door and in the dark.
    Wilfred turned away slowly, went down the stairwell, then down the aluminum staircase to the street.
    Socrates watched the tan car drive off.
    {5.}
    “You’re insane, Socrates Fortlow, you know that?” Iula said. She was standing on her side of the counter in front of seventeen stacks of four quarters each.
    “You got to pay for your dinner, I.”
    “But why you got to pay for him? He had money.”
    “That was just a loan, I. But the interest was too much for me.”
    “You ain’t responsible fo’ him.”
    “You wrong there, baby. I’m payin’ for niggahs like that ev’ry day Just like his daddy paid for me.”
    “You are a fool.”
    “But I’m my own fool, I.”
    “I don’t get it,” she said. “If you so upstandin’ an’ hardworkin’ an’ honest—then why don’t you wanna come here an’ work fo’ me? Is it ’cause I’m a woman? ’Cause you don’t wanna work fo’ no woman?”
    Socrates was feeling good. He had a full stomach. The muscles in his arms relaxed now that he didn’t have to fight. There was an ache in his forearm where he’d been cut, but, as the prison doctor used to say, pain was just a symptom of life.
    Socrates laughed.
    “You’re a woman all right, I. I know you had that boilin’ water out there t’save me from Wilfred. You a woman all right, and I’m gonna be comin’ back here every Tuesday from now on. I’m gonna come see you and we gonna talk too, Momma. Yeah. You gonna be seein’ much