Tanya smiles. Simone is the one who introduced her to Fanfan. At the time, she was sharing Fanfan with Minouche. There had been almost daily fights.
“He’s just a man, Simone. Nothing more or less. He’s available when I feel like a fuck, that’s all.”
“I don’t believe you, Tanya. That guy has driven you nuts. Ever since you met him you haven’t been the same. I think it’s very simple, what you do, Tanya. You sleep with us, and by ‘us’ I mean Minouche, Carole, Marie-Flore, even Alta, but you really only give yourself to men. You play with us, but it’s only men who can hurt you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I just said doesn’t change our situation. You know you don’t have to worry about me. It’s simple: you can have me whenever you want me. So let’s talk about something else . . .”
“No, no, Simone. I want to get this straight . . .”
“But it’s already clear, my love. None of us could ever get you as worked up as you are about Fanfan. For the past month you’ve neglected everyone but him, but in fact it could just as well have been any man. You get on top for us, but you go down on your back for a man. Even I can see that, Tanya. So you see, everyone knows what’s up with you.”
A long silence.
“It’s true that sometimes I feel like a man.”
“With us, Tanya. But whenever there’s a man in the house you turn into the worst kind of woman.”
“You’ve noticed that?”
“A child could see that, Tanya.”
“There no man in the house now, Simone . . .”
Tanya leans over Simone and kisses her long and skilfully.
“Oh, Tanya . . . Do what you like with me . . .”
INTERIOR BEDROOM. 7:13 PM
Tanya and Simone are still in bed. Tanya gets up quietly. Simone is still sleeping. Tanya carefully picks up the telephone and takes it to the other side of the room. She dials a number.
“Hello . . .”
“Is Simone there?” Tanya asks, watching Simone asleep in her bed.
“No, she went out.”
“Is that you, Fanfan?”
“Who’s this?”
“Tanya.”
“Tanya, don’t hang up, please, I can explain about last night. In the end I didn’t go out at all. I had one hell of a headache, my sweet.”
“Did you take that medicine I bought for you the other day?”
“No, I couldn’t find the bottle.”
“But my love, you aren’t well. That’s why I keep buying you medicine. What are you doing at Simone’s?”
“Nothing. I just dropped by to pick up a sweater that Charlie left here a few days ago, and I saw she wasn’t home, so . . .”
While talking to Fanfan, Tanya stretches out her right foot and lightly runs her toes up and down Simone’s firm, well-rounded bottom.
“Are you going to wait for her?”
“No, I’m leaving now.”
“Don’t leave yet, my love. I’ll get a taxi and be there in five minutes.”
Tanya gets up cautiously so as not to awaken Simone. She goes into the bathroom, takes a shower, then puts on a short dress and leaves her apartment by the back entrance.
In her sleep, Simone smiles.
A New Girl
TANYA COMES IN shortly after midnight with a cigarette in her hand (its filter smeared with lipstick). The huge dance floor at the Cabane Créole is already full to bursting. The Tabou Combo is exploding on a stage decidedly too small for the group. The musicians seem to be in top form. “That’s thunder,” as Freddy says when he’s had too much to drink. Each table has its own bottle of cognac. Rum is for the plebes. As always, when she feels the physical pleasure of it rise within her, Tanya begins to laugh to herself. She stands in an advantageous spot and scans the room carefully before crossing to the best table. She waits for the right moment to cross the room. A pause. She puts out her cigarette. Now she goes. Shoubou (the combo’s singer since the heroic epoch of Bébé Paramount), an old friend, sees her and announces her presence over the mike:
“And here we have the lovely Tanya. She is beautiful, she is beautiful, beeee-youuuu-teeee-full . . .”
Tanya smiles.
“Tanya!”
She turns towards Minouche, who is sitting by the stage.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Tanya . . .”
“Why not? I go out when I want to.”
“I didn’t mean to make you angry, my dear.”
“Save your breath, then.”
“Unwind, Tanya . . . I just wanted to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“I was just saying . . .”
“If you have something to say, Minouche, spit it out. I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry, but I thought you knew.”
“So you don’t have anything to say,” Tanya says, and continues on her way.
ALTA CATCHES TANYA near the washrooms.
“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight, Tanya . . .”
“Jesus! You, too, Alta?
“Fanfan is here.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“He’s with a girl.”
“Alta, Fanfan is always with a girl. That’s not the end of the world for me.”
“Oh, I see.”
“That’s all, Alta. Mind your own business from now on.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Tanya is still sitting in a cubicle in the ladies’ room, her head in her hands, when two girls come in.
“Do you think she’s beautiful?” asks the first.
“Who?” replies the other.
“Tanya.”
“Oh. She’s not bad, but I think Shoubou was exaggerating.”
“I think her type is a bit passé . . .”
“What type is that?”
“The kind with a flower behind her ear.”
“I think she has nice eyes, but I don’t like her hands.”
“You noticed them, too?”
“So what was Shoubou going on about, then?”
“Didn’t you figure it out? He was warning Fanfan that Tanya had come in. Those two share everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t . . .”
“Seriously? Well, it’s simple. If Shoubou has a girl, she has to sleep with Fanfan, too, and vice versa . . .”
“How do you know?”
“Alta told me.”
“I didn’t know Alta went with Shoubou.”
“Not with Shoubou; with Fanfan.”
“Oh, okay, that doesn’t surprise me. He hits on anything that moves.”
“And he seldom misses,” the second girl sneers.
They leave.
TANYA WANTS TO see what the girl with Fanfan looks like. She’s a beauty. Tall, thin, sophisticated, whereas she, Tanya, is short, sexy and common. Quite a match!
“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 Americ
an 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?”
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