“Two whiskies. I’ll pay for Hansy’s.”
“Hey, now, you’re not going to let yourself pay for these rich gents, are you? They’re very good at that game. . I’ll give you two whiskies on the house. I’ll put a little water in the bottle and keep it under the counter until the end of the evening, say around three in the morning, when all they’ll taste is the fire. . Don’t worry, I’ve been here twenty years. I know the way things are around here. I served the fathers, and now I’m serving the sons.”
Charlie goes back to Hansy, who is standing beside the battered old piano.
“No one but Jacky Duroseau can play this thing now. He completely wrecked it by pouring whisky all over it. When he drinks, he thinks the piano should drink, too. He’s supposed to play every Saturday night, but he only shows up when he feels like it. Once he came on a Monday. . You’ve brought me a drink. Thanks, Charlie.”
“No problem. . I didn’t pay for it. The barman wouldn’t take my money.”
Hansy looks at him strangely.
“You always tell the truth, don’t you? Around here everybody pretends. . They even pretend to be rich, when in fact most of them are on the verge of bankruptcy. . Don’t you worry about old Samson, he’ll top the bottle up with water. He thinks no one knows about it, but in fact everyone’s figured out his little game. No one but ninnies buy drinks here after two AM. . You see how they’re looking at us? It’s because they’ve heard about our little scene.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you just shut Missie’s mouth for her. It appears she has locked herself in the john. I also told them about June. You know who June is, don’t you? She’s the daughter of the American consul. Not bad for a guy who isn’t even a member of the Circle. As far as I’m concerned, you are a prince among men. Even Muscle is impressed, and no one impresses Muscle. He came up to me a while ago and asked me if it was true that you’re a German tennis champion. Don’t you realize what a stir you’re creating? In one day you’ve made the inaccessible June lose her head and sent the acid-tongued Missie packing.
TEN MINUTES LATER.
“Missie is outside, Charlie. She wants to talk to you.”
“No problem.”
They go out.
“It’s all your fault, Hansy,” Missie says, just short of tears.
“What happened?”
“Everyone is saying I’m fighting with June over this. . imbecile. You have a wicked, wicked tongue.”
“Would you be good enough to tell me why you called me out here?” Charlie asks politely.
Missie turns on him.
“I want you to go back in there,” she says breathlessly, “and tell everyone that I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever, and that I do not intend to fight over you with June.”
“You’ll have to run all that by me again, because I didn’t understand any of it. And you talk too fast,” Charlie adds with a half-smile.
She glares at him angrily.
“I could never feel anything for a person like you.”
“What do you mean by that?” Hansy asks.
Charlie signals to him to stay out of it.
“But Hansy, I don’t even know him. He isn’t a member. .”
“No, I am not a member of your charmed Circle. I know that. My mother is a governess and my father is a gardener. . In other words, they’re servants. . They work not far from here. .”
“And you dare to come in here?”
“Missie!” cries Hansy. “Don’t you see how exceptional this fellow is? You’re right, he’s not at all like us. He has no desire to hide his origins, or his identity. . There’s not a single member of the Circle who hasn’t been vague about his life from time to time. We’re always lying about something, hiding our suffering, our desires, our fears. . A man who can proclaim his agony like this fellow does is a prince, I tell you, a prince.”
“Will you please leave us alone, Hansy?” Missie says.
Charlie and Missie watch Hansy move off towards the brightly lit building.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Missie says, resuming her customary ironic tone (“acid-tongued Mis-sie,” as she is known).
“I happened to be in the area, and I saw you crossing the street, on your way to play tennis. And I said to myself, ‘That’s her. I want her. She’s the one!’ That’s the only reason I came here tonight.”
Missie looks at him, nearly choking.
“Me! You! Why?”
“That’s the way it is. I want you. . I want to hear you moan. . and I will. .”
Missie continues staring at him, transfixed.
“I’m in no hurry,” Charlie says calmly.
And he leaves. Before Missie can even think of anything to say, he’s at the gate of the Bellevue Circle. The meeting place of the privileged youth of Pétionville. Missie feels that she can no longer stop herself from retching. She bends over between two parked cars and vomits huge, yellow streams on the green grass.
She stays outside for a long time, watching the others dancing. She sees Hansy come out to look for her, but really, she doesn’t feel up to talking to anyone. She runs between the luxurious cars parked anyhow on the lawn. She wants nothing more than to go home and shut herself up in her room. She hears Hansy calling, over and over. “That asshole has made me run away from my own friends twice in one night,” she thinks, continuing to flee. A luminous white dress in the moonlight. Just before reaching the villa, she stops one more time to throw up.
TWO O’CLOCK in the afternoon. Someone knocks on the door to Charlie’s miniscule room.
“Come in, it’s open.”
Hansy comes in.
“What did you do to Missie?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s gone completely bonkers. . She came to my place at nine o’clock this morning. . Nine o’clock! I was barely awake! She wanted me to find you. We looked everywhere. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and it’s really none of my business, but I think it must have been serious. .”
“Where is she, Hansy?”
“She’s downstairs in the car. I’ll go tell her to come up, shall I? I’ll stay down there.”
Charlie dresses hurriedly. He starts tidying up the room, then changes his mind at the last moment. He decides to wait for Missie sitting on his narrow, iron bed.
She comes in.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Excuse me for bothering you at home like this, but I didn’t sleep last night.”
“Ah!”
“I don’t understand what right you have to think of me that way,” she says coldly.
“And that’s why you came here, so I could explain it to you?”
A long moment of silence.
“It’s because I’m afraid of voodoo.”
He bursts out laughing.
“Is that it? Really?”
He laughs again, falling back on the bed.
“No,” he says, “I don’t use voodoo for things like this.”
“What, then?”
“It’s a question of blood.”
“Blood?”
“Yes. My blood wants to mingle with your blood.”
Missie’s lips begin to tremble.
“I don’t understand.”
“What I mean is that it’s out of control. . It has nothing to do with religion, or race, or even sex.”
“Well, if that’s true, then it has nothing to do with me, either,” she says, moving towards the door.
“If it had nothing to do with you, you wouldn’t have come here.”
She stops suddenly, like someone who has been shot in the back just as she was about to rush down the stairs.
CHARLIE IS LYING on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He can lie like this for hours.