The Future Of Birds Part 2

Later on, Griffiths told Thessinger about the parade of samba schools, about how Cledilce and Estela would be dancing at the head of Salgueiro.

The German winked at the two Birds, told them he was looking forward to seeing it. Despite giving the appearance of getting into the swing of things, Estela noticed that he drank little. She imagined what it would be like to feel him inside her, and wondered if that would happen in Berlin.

They left the ball after four, a taxi dropping the two birds at their apartment while Griffiths insisted on accompanying Thessinger back to his hotel. Cledilce ran a bath while Estela sat on the toilet bowl, skinning a joint. She remembered what Deborah had said about the Sanctuaries, about being caged, and tried to dismiss it as simply the envy of a dying woman.

She said, "What you think of Thessinger?"

"Why, Honey?" Cledilce said. "You wanna f.u.c.k him?" She laughed and tested the water with her elbow.

"You know Deborah got the disease?"

"So," Cledilce said, losing her smile. "That ain't my problem."

"You don't feel sorry for her?"

"Sure, I feel sorry for all them b.i.t.c.hes. But I'd feel a lot more sorry if it didn't give us this chance to do something for ourselves."

"You ain't worried 'bout the operation?"

"I explained that a dozen times, Estel, over there they do it right. It ain't just cutting a gash between your legs."

Estela's fears were not placated. She said, "You think we'll still feel the same way about each other?"

Cledilce smiled and hugged her. "Count on it, Honey." Then she peeled the lycra suit from her body, planted a kiss on Estela's lips, and took the joint from her. She lit it and stepped into the bath.

A sigh escaped Estela. Lately she had been wondering what exactly it was she felt for Cledilce. Was it love? Or had she simply mistaken grat.i.tude and friendship for love? She said, "I f.u.c.ked Deborah."

Stretched out in the water with one hand held up to keep the joint dry, Cledilce said, "Why?"

"Curiosity."

"That all?"

"You jealous?"

Cledilce shook her head. "Soon," she said, "you won't be able to do that."

"You didn't answer my question."

Cledilce reached out and squeezed Estela's c.o.c.k through the satin skirt.

"Remember Honey, when this is gone, I'll still be with you."

Estela stood and undressed. She climbed into the bath and slid down between Cledilce's legs, leaning back against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She felt wet kisses on her shoulders and neck, and hard flesh prodding against her back. She turned round, kneeling in the water and took Cledilce's c.o.c.k in her mouth. In her mind she was already dreaming of Berlin.

Deborah came by to help them prepare for the parade. They sat drinking bottles of Para beer as they made alterations to their gowns of feathers and silk. Tonight, bedecked in these extravagant costumes, Estela and Cledilce, would lead the Salgueiro school down to the asphalt at the Sambodromo.

Cledilce said, "Estela's worried 'bout the operation."

"It'll be okay," Deborah said. "They're investing a lot of money in you both."

"Will I be able to feel anything when I'm f.u.c.king?" Estela said.

"You should ask Thessinger."

"Would you do this, if you had the choice?" Estela asked her.

"She don't have that choice," Cledilce said, bluntly.

"Cledilce is right," Deborah said, draining her bottle. "I could never be a Bird like you."

Estela gave her a puzzled stare. She sensed a muted hostility and wondered if Deborah regretted sleeping with her. "I didn't mean -"

Cledilce cut her off. "You spent all this time f.u.c.king with your mouth; now you gonna have a chance to try the real thing."

"Well, I gotta go," Deborah said. "I told Griffiths I'd pick Thessinger up and get him something to eat before the parade." She stood up. "Now, lemme have a look at you." She draped the scarlet gown over Estela. Tall, black feathers sprouted from the back and shoulders creating a panoply of star-flecked night. She helped Cledilce into a black gown adorned with scarlet feathers, then stood back, staring at them. "You're like two creatures from a dream."

Estela leaned forward self-consciously and embraced her. "I'll be watching for your face in the crowd, Sugar," she said.

"Sure," Deborah said, then she nodded to Cledilce and left.

Ninety thousand people had crowded into the 1700 metre long Sambodromo to watch the compet.i.tion. The Beija Flor had already completed their routine, as had the pink and black of the Mangueira school. Now it was the turn of the Salgueiro; fuelled by Aktives and amyl nitrate, they had worked themselves up into a state of feverish excitement and could hardly wait.

When the signal came, the baterias began pounding out a relentless beat.

Estela and Cledilce, leading a dozen or so magnificently arrayed performers, began to move slowly from the a.s.sembly area into the cauldron of the stadium itself. They were a.s.saulted by a deafening roar and by waves of clammy heat; fireworks exploded in the sky overhead like a portent of some imagined apocalypse. Estela felt the blood begin to boil in her veins as the routines she had been practising for the best part of a year took hold of her limbs and set her cutting a sinuous swathe through the rainbowed night. Around her, Cledilce and the others flowed with liquid speed, intoxicated by complex rhythms as if they had freed themselves from invisible bonds. She too was aware of the sense of release, and as she danced she found it impossible to stick to the set routine. Alien manoeuvres were imposed on her body and brain as she instinctively moved ahead of her companions and abandoned herself to a display of raucous s.e.xuality, a primitive, vital and threatening explosion of angry desire that exposed the sham hypocrisy of what Carnaval had become. Aktives exploded in her skull as heat consumed and transformed her into a creature of the air.

For an eternity there was only the music and the ch.o.r.eographed chaos of the dance as she lost all sense of place, time and ident.i.ty; 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 Sambodromo, 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 too, she realised, 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 f.u.c.k him when she became a proper Bird.

Griffiths was already high when they reached the cafe. He hastily filled gla.s.ses of champagne, then raised a gla.s.s towards 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 f.u.c.ked again, huh, Estela?"

"You a.s.shole," 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 pa.s.sed without her showing. Fatigue and a sense of anti-climax 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 f.u.c.k's wrong with you, you stupid b.i.t.c.h?" 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 f.a.ggot," Griffiths sneered.

Estela spat 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. "f.u.c.k her," he said, "She needs a lesson to be taught."

"Jesus, Estela!" Cledilce said. "What the h.e.l.l'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 towards 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 Senor." 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 f.u.c.king Argentine is doing to me," she said, nodding towards 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 towards the open window.

"Oh s.h.i.t, 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 c.o.c.ksucking b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Thessinger said, "He left the parade about half an hour after her. Said he had to get things organised at the cafe."

Estela sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the dead woman's face. "Poor b.i.t.c.h 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 towards her. "Take it."

She stared at it for a moment, confused. Was this really what she wanted?