Heading South (17 page)

“Hey, Fanfan.”

“Hey, Tanya.”

“I haven't see much of you lately.”

“I had some business to finish up with Shoubou.”

“A girl.”

“What?”

“I said, you had some girl to finish up with Shoubou . . . I hear you two are quite the team.”

“I don't see where you're going with that . . .”

“Forget it, Fanfan. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Michèle, this is Tanya.”

“Oh, yes. I've been hearing a lot about you, Tanya . . .”

“I'll bet you neglected to tell her that I'm one of your mistresses, Fanfan. How many of us are there, here? Do you even bother to count anymore?”

“Don't be vulgar, Tanya.”

“That must be the new you, Fanfan. You used to like them vulgar, if I'm not mistaken. What's your specialty? Blow jobs?”

“Excuse me?”

Not a muscle moves on Fanfan's face.

“You must be new around here.”

“I've only just met Fanfan.”

“So, he hasn't told you about Shoubou yet, then? Do you like sandwiches?”

“I . . . I don't know what you mean.”

“What are you waiting for, Fanfan? You're getting old, my dear. Cat got your tongue? You'd like me to leave? I'm sorry if I've spoiled your evening, my dear . . . I'll just go tell Shoubou to get ready, since it seems he'll be having ‘some business to finish up' later this evening . . . Ciao, Michèle.”

“Goodbye, Tanya.”

Tanya turns back.

“And so polite, too . . . Tell me, Fanfan, where'd you dig up this rare gem? Are you cruising the convents, now? Oh, I get it, you found her at Madame Saint-Pierre's school. I recognize the type. I wonder if she knows you're also sleeping with Madame Saint-Pierre?”

IN SHOUBOU'S
dressing room.

“You dried-up piece of shit!”

“What's the problem, Tanya?”

“You faggot!”

“Are you going to tell me what it is I seem to have done?”

“I thought you were my friend. Why didn't you call me to warn me? I would never have come here . . .”

“You know how it is with Fanfan . . . I never saw this girl before an hour ago, sitting alone at a table . . . Everyone was gawking at her, all the guys homing in on her. She was obviously waiting for someone. Even Charlie came up and asked who she was. I couldn't tell him a thing. No one's ever seen her before. Fanfan came in a couple of minutes before you did. I didn't have time to call you.”

A long moment of truce.

“I was in the washroom and overheard two women talking about you and Fanfan. They said you shared women . . .”

“Tanya, dearest . . .”

“Don't you dare come near me.”

“But Tanya, you've been had. By Maryse.”

“What's Maryse done?”

“She sent those two girls into the washroom. They were sitting at her table . . . What's the matter, Tanya?”

“Oh, no, no, no, you're not going to get off that easily . . .”

“Why, have you two already slept together?”

“Are you serious?”

“You're a better judge of him than those two girls, Tanya . . .”

“Shit, Shoubou . . . Why does he treat me like this?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“With you, I suppose?”

“Why not?”

She pounces on him with claws exposed.

“You pig!”

“Stop it, Tanya . . . I was kidding . . . Jesus! What's got into you? I remember when Fanfan and I first met you, at that carnival at the Ibo Lélé Hotel, remember? Fanfan fell head over heels for you. He said you were his soulmate. You drank, you picked up men, and when they no longer interested you, you tossed them on the rubbish heap. Fanfan loved that about you. ‘My friend,' I said to him, ‘that one there is different, you won't be able to treat her like the rest of them.' And he nodded . . . And now look at you, you're acting exactly like all the rest . . .”

Silence.

“I could have any man I want in this city.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Except him.”

“I never looked at it like that before . . . I'm sorry, Tanya.”

“What should I do now?”

“Go home.”

“Everyone will think I'm afraid of that girl.”

“You know as well as I do that you can't win with a new girl.”

“What if I stayed?”

“It's up to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I'm not getting mixed up in it.”

“All right. But I'm not going to go out there and walk across the whole room . . .”

“No, you can go out the back way . . . I have to go back on stage. I'll send Chérubin, he'll see you home. That way no one will know you're gone . . .”

“Anyway, I don't want to see anyone for a week, not even him . . .”

“Don't worry, you won't see him.”

“Pig!”

There is the sound of applause and shouting.

“I have to go, Tanya . . . He'll come back to you, Tanya. He always comes back to you.”

“I don't know anymore . . .”

“That's what you always say . . .”

SHOUBOU CLIMBS UP
on the stage. The crowd yells. As he walks up to the microphone, he gives Fanfan a discreet but reassuring wink. This isn't the first time he's got his friend out of a jam. But the new girl looks very nice. Stay tuned.

A Fishing Trip

SITTING AT THE
counter in the Quiesqueya, Tanya orders a cognac.

“How'd it go last night?” asks the bartender.

“I didn't stay . . . I was totally wiped. I went home and was in bed by midnight. Fanfan was exhausted, too. I fell asleep fully dressed.”

“And now?”

“Oh, I'm perfectly rested now.”

The bartender moves to the other end of the counter to serve a customer, a white man with a tall, well-built woman. You couldn't really call them breasts. They were more like grenades.

“Who's the guy?” Tanya asks idly.

“He's the American consul . . . A good customer . . . He hits on everyone who has a nice ass like yours, or breasts like hers . . . You know what I mean? I find the girl he's with a lot more interesting. She's superb.”

“Not bad.”

“You call that ‘not bad'? You want me to introduce you to the guy? It could be arranged, you know . . .”

“Not right now . . . I wonder what you see in her. She's not as pretty as all that . . .”

“Maybe not, Tanya, but have you not noticed her breasts?”

“It's stupid. Every man I know is completely obsessed with breasts.”

“I can't speak for all men,” says the bartender, wiping a small puddle of water off the counter, “but for me, breasts drive me crazy.”

“Ah, now I get it,” says Tanya, giving a small laugh. “You want me to leave with the guy so you can console his girlfriend.”

The bartender chuckles.

“It's all about self-interest. You want another cognac? On the house . . .”

He pours her a drink. Tanya stares at the liquid in the glass for a long time. The American has just noticed her presence. He's given her a brief but intense look. The kind of look that takes everything in. Everything that can possibly be discerned about her, absorbed in a second. Tanya (petite, brunette) is not an earth-shattering beauty. You may not even notice her when she first walks into a room (unlike Simone or Minouche, if you like that type). But anyone who does check her out, even once, cannot refrain from giving her a second look. And a third. And a fourth. Why is this? A special sensuality that informs her skin, her way of moving her body (as though she never stops dancing), and, above all, her eyes. Ah, Tanya's eyes. Her favourite weapon. When she deigns to turn them your way (with a look that is both sweeping and focused at the same time), you want to hide under the table. Everything she does she does slowly, but with incredible energy! At the moment she has just fired three salvoes at the consul, sitting at the far end of the counter. And here he is, on his way over.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“You're with someone, I believe . . .”

“That doesn't stop me from being able to buy you a drink.”

“Possibly not, but for your information, I'm not a whore, as you apparently think I am . . . Is that how you regard all Haitian women?”

The American backs off slightly.

“I've never thought any such thing . . .”

“Then why are you so intent on buying me a drink? Do you think I'm too poor to pay for my own drinks?”

“It was just a spontaneous gesture . . . I'm like that . . . My name is Harry, I'm the American consul.”

“When you are with someone, the polite thing to do is to stay with her . . .”

“You're right,” Harry says brusquely. Everything about him is brusque. He turns and goes back to his seat.

A moment later, the bartender speaks to her. “You practically chased the guy away. I thought you were interested in him.”

Tanya's ambiguous smile.

“What makes you think I'm not?”

“You just kicked his ass for him.”

“It was either his or mine.”

The bartender makes a gesture as though to say he gives up.

“You women, you're all impossible. Totally impossible.”

“We simply need to defend ourselves,” she says, whimpering slightly.

“When you want someone you're capable of crawling two hundred kilometres on your hands and knees to get to him. But if we take a single step in your direction, out come the claws.”

“That's the way it is, Papa.”

“Don't call me Papa.”

“Okay, Papa.”

He smiles.

“Don't you want another cognac?”

“I do. And give him the bill,” she says, pointing to Harry.

The bartender's jaw drops.

“Okay, now I don't get it. You just refused to let him buy you a drink . . .”

Tanya waves her hand as though brushing away an imaginary fly.

“Don't worry, he'll pay. He likes paying for things.”

“Whatever you say. If he doesn't, I'll cover it myself.”

“Thanks, Papa, but I don't want your money. I know he'll pay.”

The young woman with the dangerous breasts gets up and heads for the washroom, taking her purse with her, which suggests she'll be in there for a while. Tanya waits a moment (long enough to calmly finish her cognac) before following her.

TANYA FINDS HER
crying in front of the mirror.

“What's the matter?” Tanya asks sympathetically.

The woman hides her face in her hands.

“He's all yours. You can have him . . .”

“Who?”

“Don't make fun of me, on top of everything else. Do you think it's fun talking to a man who can't take his eyes off another woman?”

“No, I don't. But I haven't laid a finger on your man.”

“That's why I'm giving him to you.”

“But I don't want him . . .”

The young woman suddenly begins to sob so energetically her breasts bounce up and down as though she's riding a bicycle down a bumpy street.

“You drove him crazy.”

The two women look at each other in silence.

“What if I tell you it's you I'm interested in,” says Tanya, calmly.

“What?”

“Don't worry,” Tanya adds reassuringly. “All I meant was that you touch me, deeply.”

“Thanks,” says the young woman, lowering her eyes modestly.

“Tanya. And you?”

“I'm Florence.”

“Florence, I'm going to make you a proposal,” Tanya says brightly.

The young woman looks up quickly.

“What kind of proposal?”

“How about you and I leave him sitting there, high and dry. We'll go get a drink somewhere else . . . Don't worry, you never lose a man by dumping him.”

A pause. Then the young woman smiles. Tanya smiles, too.

“Okay. Let's leave him there . . . Let's go somewhere else.”

“Come on,” Tanya says. “That way. I know another way out.”

“Where are we going?”

“We'll go to the Hippopotamus. But first I have to stop at my place. It won't take long.”

“Is it far?”

“No, it's just across the way . . . Whenever I get bored I come here to chat up the bartender. He's very nice.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Florence asks, naïvely.

“My boyfriends are never nice . . . The nice ones are only my friends.”

“Too bad for you . . .”

Tanya smiles.

“I like it that way. What about you?”

“Me?” says Florence, a little off balance. “I don't know . . . I don't know . . .”

“Still trying to find yourself ?”

“I guess so,” says Florence with a dry laugh.

“Well, we'll have a drink, and your little fit of depression will just disappear. You'll see.”

“DARLING!” TANYA CALLS
as she walks into the house. “Are you here?”

No reply.

“Where are you, darling?”

“In the bedroom.”

Tanya turns to Florence, who is standing by the door.

“Have a seat for a moment. I'll be right back . . .”

She hurries into the bedroom.

“What are you doing, my dearest? Still sleeping?”

“Get off my back, Tanya.”

“I went out for a drink, darling, while you were sleeping, and you'll never guess what I've brought you.”

“Not another bottle of bloody perfume, I hope. I didn't even know they sold that shit in the bars around here . . .”

“Don't make fun of me, my love. Tell me this: who, in your opinion, is tall, svelte, has lots of hair and the biggest pair of tits you ever saw?”

Fanfan sits up immediately.

“She's here?”