For an eternity there was only the music and the choreographed chaos of the dance as she lost all sense of place, time, and identity. She felt herself raised up above the noise and light that comprised her universe, and she understood for once what it was to fly.
Coming down in the Sambódromo, cradled in Cledilce’s arms, Estela felt no elation when she learned that her school had been awarded first prize; she felt only a sense of loss. Despite the desire to escape, this was still her home, and those who had danced beside her were those she had called friends. It was also, she realized, her last dance at Carnaval.
It was eight-thirty in the morning by the time they had managed to fight their way from the stadium out into the crowded, steaming Centro streets. A thunderstorm broke overhead and cool but torrential rain battered their costumes and washed the heat from their limbs. A taxi slid to a halt beside them and Thessinger jumped out, opened the rear door, and ushered them in. “Cafe Tudo Ben,” he told the driver as he slid into the front seat.
Despite her exhaustion, Estela watched Thessinger’s face in the mirror, wondering what he had thought of her performance. She told herself she would fuck him when she became a proper Bird.
Griffiths was already high when they reached the café. He hastily filled glasses of champagne, then raised a glass toward them. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “I seen you both on the TV; you were fantastic.”
Estela said, “Where’s Deborah?”
“Who cares?” Griffiths said. “Maybe she was fucked again, huh, Estela?”
“You asshole,” Estela said. She caught hold of Thessinger’s arm. “She was with you?”
“Earlier, yes,” Thessinger explained. “She left before the end, said she would meet me here.”
“Honey,” Cledilce said, “don’t worry ’bout it. Maybe she—”
“For Chrissakes,” Griffiths snapped. “She knows where we’re at. If she wants to come, then she will, right, Rudy?”
“Juan is right,” Thessinger said. “She’ll turn up.”
But an hour passed without her showing. Fatigue and a sense of anticlimax conspired to depress Estela. She rose and told the others she was returning to the apartment to get some sleep.
“C’mon, Estel,” Cledilce said. “Don’t go yet.”
Estela forced a weak smile. “I’m gone, Sugar.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you, you stupid bitch?” Griffiths said, grabbing her arm. “What’ll Rudy think?”
Estela pulled free of his grip and glared at Thessinger. “When the contract’s done, you know where to find me.”
“You faggot,” Griffiths sneered.
Estela spit in his face and before Griffiths could respond, Thessinger restrained him with an arm across his chest. “Enough, Juan,” he said. “My people don’t want damaged merchandise.”
Griffiths slumped back into his seat. “Fuck her,” he said, “She needs a lesson to be taught.”
“Jesus, Estela!” Cledilce said. “What the hell’s up with you?”
Thessinger stood up. “I’ll take her home.”
He followed Estela out into the hot, morning light, where traffic moved slowly north toward Copacabana. He walked beside her and she felt her anger ebb. He seemed to understand her need to be treated with respect. She knew it was a game, of course; he was just another pimp. “I appreciate that,” she said.
He shrugged and stopped a taxi. In the back, he said, “You don’t like the señor.” It wasn’t a question.
“It was never part of the deal,” Estela said, bitterly.
Thessinger wiped sweat from his forehead and nodded. “I have to see Ms. Hernandez before I take you home.”
“What for?” Estela just wanted to sleep.
“About the deal.” Thessinger watched her carefully before continuing. “What do you know about her?”
“She told me she set this up, not Juan.”
“That’s why I need to see her.”
Estela felt relief that Deborah wasn’t going to be cheated out of her cut. When the traffic slowed to a halt she grabbed Thessinger and pointed to a crazed old man stumbling in the middle of the road. In one hand he carried the skinned, decapitated corpse of a monkey.
“That’s what I feel that fucking Argentine is doing to me,” she said, nodding toward the dead animal.
Thessinger followed her gaze as the old man caught their eyes and leered. He lurched over to the car and raised his other hand. It held a clear plastic bag containing the monkey’s head. He swung it against Thessinger’s window and laughed.
“He’s gonna cheat her,” Estela said. “But you already know that.”
Thessinger said nothing as the car pulled slowly away.
In her room at the Luxor Copacabana they found Deborah lying on her back on the bed with two bullet holes showing neatly in her white, cotton vest; her head was turned sideways and her eyes stared sightlessly toward the open window.
“Oh shit, man,” Estela moaned. Deborah’s close-cropped hair and pale skin gave her the appearance of a delicate child. An empathy she didn’t understand made her wonder what was the last thing Deborah saw.
Thessinger moved to the bed, checked for a pulse, then began to go through the room, turning out drawers and suitcases. “Quickly,” he said, “we can’t wait around.”
Estela said, “That cocksucking bastard.”
Thessinger said, “He left the parade about half an hour after her. Said he had to get things organized at the café.”
Estela sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the dead woman’s face. “Poor bitch deserved better than this.”
“It’s too bad.”
“I told you he was gonna cheat her.”
“There’s nothing here to connect him with this,” Thessinger said, as he moved around the room. “We better go.”
“No,” Estela said, bitterly. “He can’t get away with it.”
“Yes, he can,” Thessinger said. “Just forget it. I have to get you to Berlin.”
“I don’t go before I see him,” Estela said. “She was a friend.”
Thessinger threw up his hands. “There’s no time. You don’t know where he’ll be.”
“With Cledilce. Listen, Rudy, there’s a place I know up in Rochina. I wanna take him there.”
“Okay,” Thessinger said, wearily. “I’ll bring Cledilce and meet you there.” He took a small handgun from inside his shirt and held it toward her. “Take it.”
She stared at it for a moment, confused. Was this really what she wanted? Then she picked it up and stuck it in her bag.