Free A Fire in the Sun by George Alec Effinger Page A

away from my own servant, but I just didn't feel like having him tagging along with me tonight. I drove through the Christian quarter and then through the upper-class shopping district east of the Budayeen. I parked the car on the Boulevard il-Jameel, not far from where Bill usually sat in his taxi. Before I left the car, I took out my pillcase. It seemed like it had been a long time since I'd treated myself to some friendly drugs. I was well supplied, thanks to my higher income and the many new contacts I'd met through Papa. I selected a couple of blue triphets; I was in such a hurry that I swallowed them right there, without water. In a little while I'd be ramping with energy and feeling indomitable. I was going to need the help, because I had an ugly scene ahead of me.
    I also thought about chipping in a moddy, but at the last moment I decided against it. I needed to talk with Chiri, and I had enough respect for her to show up in my own head. Afterward, though, things might be different. I might feel like going home as someone else entirely.
    Chiri's club was crowded that night. The air was still and warm inside, sweet with a dozen different perfumes, sour with sweat and spilled beer. The sexchanges and pre-op debs chatted with the customers with false cheerfulness, and their laughter broke through the shrill music as they called for more champagne cocktails. Bright bolts of red and blue neon slashed down slantwise behind the bar, and brilliant points of light from spinning mirror balls sparkled on the walls and ceiling. In one corner there was a hologram of Honey Pilar, writhing alone upon a blond mink coat spread on the white sands of some romantic beach. It was an ad for her new sex moddy, Slow, Slow Burn. I stared at it for a moment, almost hypnotized.
    "Audran," came Chiriga's hoarse voice. She didn't sound happy to see me. "Mr. Boss."
    "Listen, Chiri," I said. "Let me—"
    "Lily," she called to one of the changes, "get the new owner a drink. Gin and bingara with a hit of Rose's." She looked at me fiercely. "The tende is mine, Audran. Private stock. It doesn't go with the club, and I'm taking it with me."
    She was making it hard for me. I could only imagine how she felt. "Wait a minute, Chiri. I had nothing to do with—"
    "These are the keys. This one's for the register. The
    money in there's all yours. The girls are yours, the hassles are yours from now on too. You got any problems you can go to Papa with "em." She snatched her bottle of tende from under the bar. "Kwa heri, motherfucker," she snarled at me. Then she stormed out of the club.
    Everything got real quiet then. Whatever song had been playing came to an end and nobody put on another one. A deb named Kandy was on stage, and she just stood there and stared at me like I might start slavering and shrieking at any moment. People got up from their stools near me and edged away. I looked into their faces and I saw hostility and contempt.
    Friedlander Bey wanted to divorce me from all my connections to the Budayeen. Making me a cop had been a great start, but even so I still had a few loyal friends. Forcing Chiri to sell her club had been another brilliant stroke. Soon I'd be just as lonely and friendless as Papa himself, except I wouldn't have the consolation of his wealth and power.
    "Look," I said, "this is all a mistake. I got to settle this with Chiri. Indihar, take charge, okay? I'll be right back."
    Indihar just gave me a disdainful look. She didn't say anything. I couldn't stand to be in there another minute. I grabbed the keys Chiri'd dropped on the bar and I went outside. She wasn't anywhere in sight on the Street. She might have gone straight home, but she'd probably gone to another club.
    I went to the Fee Blanche, old man Gargotier's cafe on Ninth Street. Saied, Mahmoud, Jacques, and I hung out there a lot. We liked to sit on the patio and play cards early in the evening. It was a good place to catch the action.
    They were all there, all right.