Free Carnival by Rawi Hage Page B

forced transfers. I jerked myself off and I came ( veni ) above my father’s carpet as I watched the king’s daughter rush towards me with the dagger in her hand.
    I took a shower that evening. I rested. After my assassination, a civil war had erupted in my room. Killers surfaced from my library, from the kitchen side, to be precise, where all the history books are kept above the sink and beside the cups of coffee. Men howled and women screamed and the sorrow of wars made me reach for my jacket, grab my hat and spin my keys in my fingers, and go down to my taxi to drive through the streets and look for clients.
    I picked up a young woman in a short skirt and high heels. When she asked to be dropped at the corner of John Street and Fleece Market Street, I knew exactly where she wanted to go. So I took the liberty of going a little farther and straight to the alley, stopping at the back door of the strip joint. I stopped my meter and waited for the fare.
    She pulled out a handful of change, threw it in my face, and said: You think you’re smart, you think you know everything. She left before I could apologize and tell her that, after many years of assessing the weight of people and their lives, I had become a knower. One look in my rearview mirror and I recognized wandering animals and the path of their swinging lives. One look at her gestures on the street, the way she held her bag and rushed into the car, and the way she looked fed up with drunk clients and the herd of bureaucrats who come for Friday happy hours, and I knew.
    HAIR
    THE NEXT DAY around noon, I received a phone call from the dealer.
    In an hour, same place. You’re taking my woman shopping. Honk and she will come down.
    I picked up a couple of clients and then, at quarter to one, I headed over to the apartment of the dealer. I honked my horn and waited. His woman came rushing towards the car. She had a big leather bag with a substantial amount of fake gold dangling from its sides, very colourful attire, and very high heels. She got in and instructed me to drive straight to the main street. Let’s shop! she said.
    Then, suddenly, I heard her scream and she asked me to stop.
    I asked her if she had forgotten anything.
    Well, yes. The money.
    I circled the block and reached the front of the building again.
    Honk, driver. Honk and he’ll come down.
    So I did until the dealer came out with a mischievous smile on his face. He leaned inside the window and said to his woman, Forgot something?
    Come on, baby, show how generous you are.
    In my side mirror, I saw the man digging into his pocket and pulling out a large stack of cash.
    The whole thing, sweetheart, she said.
    But he gave her about half the bundle.
    The whole thing, Zee! Come on, I’ll do your favourite thing tonight.
    I thought there was a sale on, he said. What happened to the sale?
    Come on, baby, the taxi man is looking at you.
    He gave her two more bills and turned and went back inside the building.
    Cheap motherfucker, she said. Driver, make sure he always pays you. Don’t be fooled and don’t be shy. Always ask for more. What’s your name?
    Fly, I said. And yourself.
    Sheila, but you can call me Baby Jane.
    Jane? I asked.
    No, Baby Jane.
    Right.
    Once we arrived, she asked me to come in with her. Which I did. She held my hand and said, My man hates shopping. You like trying on clothes?
    I am used to it, I said.
    Were you a model?
    No, I said, I worked as a performer.
    Performer, I like that. I was a dancer, until my baby rescued me.
    Ballet dancer?
    No, lap dancer, she said.
    We walked from one store to another. She tried on dresses, shoes, and makeup, and I tried on baggy pants, leather jackets, flashy shirts, shades, and a variety of hats, all on behalf of the dealer.
    After a whole afternoon of walking and carrying bags, I drove her to a salon. While she had her hair done, I sat in a café, had a beer, and picked up my book and read for a while. An hour later, I drove back to the salon to