City of God (43 page)

‘Get in,' said the driver.

As he got in, Rocket winked at his friend as if to say: ‘This time we got lucky.' The driver started the car and turned up the radio.

‘Luiz Melodia!' exclaimed Rocket.

‘Like ‘im?' asked the driver.

‘Fuck, yeah!' he answered.

‘Then you must like Caetano, Gil, Gonzaguinha, Vinicius …'

‘I love Brazilian music!'

‘Then I bet you like a bit of weed?'

‘I won't say I don't …'

‘I could tell by your faces … A head knows another head when he sees one!'

When they got to the
favela
, Rocket went to the den to get
three bundles of weed for their new friends, who waited at the edge of Gabinal Road drinking beer. Rocket was given a bundle as a present, and they exchanged addresses so they could get together sometime to listen to some good music and smoke a joint or two …

‘Let's get together to do a job one of these days,' Rocket said to Ricardo.

‘You're on!'

‘Take some of this dope here 'cos I'm not in the mood for a smoke right now.'

‘OK.'

‘I'm off!'

‘Take care!'

‘Suck, bitch!' ordered Butucatu, and gave the pregnant woman another punch in the face, which was already covered in blood.

She had already performed oral sex on Potbelly. Now she was doing it to his friend and Potbelly took the opportunity to have anal sex with her. The woman screamed, bled and was punched in the stomach when she said she was pregnant. They did this for a while, taking turns.

‘You gonna stick it in her cunt?' asked Butucatu.

‘Nope, I just want her arsehole.'

The woman had been kidnapped during the wake of her own father, who had died of a heart attack. For the previous two days, she'd trudged around the city centre making arrangements for his funeral. Her mother had insisted on her not going to the wake, as she was worried about the baby. When she saw her daughter being kidnapped from the chapel, she fainted. Butucatu fired a shot into the air from inside the car while Potbelly stepped on the accelerator.

They tortured her in as many ways as they could, then cleaned
themselves off with almond-tree leaves. The woman stood up, got dressed in silence, holding back tears, and said:

‘Satisfied now?'

Without answering, Butucatu beat his former girlfriend dozens of times over the head with a stick. He'd thought it odd when she'd decided, without rhyme or reason, to end the relationship, but he hadn't been too concerned, believing that women were subject to such whims. Sooner or later she'd regret what she'd done and come back, saying she'd needed some time to figure out if she really loved him. He was wrong.

Potbelly had seen her with her arm around Stew and told his friend the first chance he got. At first Butucatu didn't believe it; he didn't think she'd have the nerve to go out with one of his enemies. They'd never fought or shot at each other, but only for want of an opportunity, because he'd sworn to kill him after a hold-up in which he suspected Stew of having taken the lion's share of the lot. He hadn't said it to his face, but to a few close friends and his girlfriend, who had now traded him in for Stew himself. If she was capable of doing something like that, then naturally she'd tell Stew that he wanted to kill him one day.

He'd waited for the right moment to kill his ex-girlfriend. He could have pointed a gun at her from afar, but he'd preferred to wait for the chance to kill her slowly, because traitors have to die like that: carefully tortured, suffering like a cow, writhing like a chicken. It was pain he felt in his chest, it was passion in reverse, the suspicion that his cock hadn't been big enough to make her come twice, three times in a row and tell him, as she climaxed, that he was everything, the best of them all.

He stopped beating her and checked to see if she was still breathing. He saw that she was alive and was overjoyed. He marvelled at his infinite fortune, not because he wanted to spare her, but because his revenge was not complete and it was in the
vagina that the pain of betrayal would hurt her the most; she'd have to feel it twofold. He grabbed the largest branch he could possibly break off a tree and hung from it, pulling it down, his eyes narrow with revenge. His strength alone wasn't enough to break the branch, but combined with his fury it was easy. Then he rammed it into the pregnant woman's vagina. News of the murder spread from mouth to ear, ear to mouth until Tiny heard about it. He thought the incident might affect business in the dens because the police were going to be all over the place.

Tiny had been sad of late; he didn't say much, and was giving the gangsters Up Top a harder time than usual. He almost always confiscated the gold chains the thieves tried to sell him. His humour only improved when he took a resident's dog, thinking it reminded him of Sparrow. Then, one Monday morning, Tiny's pal appeared in front of him with his arms open and a smile plastered across his face.

After he'd got out of the dark cell, Sparrow had been put in a cell with dozens of other prisoners who, if they didn't know him personally, knew him by name.

On his first visit, Benite took him a lot of money. Some of it went to the chief inspector, and the rest was spent on drinks, weed and coke supplied by one of the detectives at the station. All his visits were like that. While he was there, he drummed and sang sambas and hard rock, and when he got out he promised to send the chief inspector money every month.

The sun was bigger than anything and everything in the Rio de Janeiro sky that Sunday. The Crown carnival group was having a party in Ipanema; fancy dress at the beach. Tight drumming, well-rehearsed dancers, sizzling samba. Somewhat hesitant, Butucatu decided to cross the
favela
and get on one of the buses
taking the carnival group to Ipanema. At times along the way he thought Tiny would kill him; at others, he thought the dealer would mind his own business, since his murder in the
favela
had been a crime of passion, a man's crime.

Tiny and Sparrow were with the percussionists waiting to leave, and drummed along to the sambas everyone was singing. Tiny was surprised to see Butucatu there, but pretended he hadn't seen him so as not to scare his quarry. He continued drumming with his hands and whispered in Sparrow's ear:

‘I'm gonna get rid of Butucatu!'

‘Yeah, I heard about what he did, but don't get rid of ‘im. Just knock 'im about a bit, OK? He did somethin' that was his own business, know what I mean?'

‘Yeah, but he should've done it somewhere else … He grabbed the girl over in Tanque and brought her back to the
favela
!'

‘He was desperate. Just rough 'im up a bit!'

‘Fuckin' hell! Ever since you started hangin' out with them fuckin' playboys, you've turned into a wimp!'

He walked away from Sparrow, took the gun from his waistband and shouted:

‘Butucatu, come have a chat!'

When he saw the gun in Tiny's hand, a shiver ran down Butucatu's spine. He walked towards him with his hands visible so Tiny wouldn't think he was going to draw his gun. He knew he might get killed, even if he could justify the murder, but on the other hand he believed he'd be spared, because he'd never stolen anything in the
favela
, he'd never trafficked and was on friendly terms with Sparrow.

The conversation started calmly. Butucatu insisted that it was a man's crime:

‘I was defendin' my honour, man! And I'm already fucked.
Her family's already grassed on me, so this story ain't gonna affect you,' he lied.

Tiny didn't listen and repeated over and over:

‘You should've got rid of her outside the
favela
, you bastard!'

He spoke in a particularly loud voice to catch his men's attention. They'd help him beat up Butucatu. When Bicky, Russian Mouse and Marcelo came over, Tiny gave Butucatu the first punch in the face. Butucatu danced around, saying he was going to fight back, and that if he had to die, he'd die fighting – he'd die like a man. The gangsters helped beat him up. Bicky drew his gun, and didn't shoot only because Sparrow intervened:

‘Don't shoot, don't shoot!'

During the bus ride to Ipanema, Tiny repeated several times that he should have killed Butucatu, because he could see in his eyes that he was a backstabber.

‘Come off it, man. He's just a fuckwit!' said Sparrow, as always.

Butucatu remained on the ground, unconscious. By the time he came to, the buses had already left. It was a dark night. He got up slowly, his entire body hurting and bleeding. He tried to walk, his legs buckled, and he ended up back on the ground. He only managed to get up and walk home the next morning.

‘I'm pregnant!'

‘You're kiddin'!?'

‘I am. I haven't had my period in two months …'

‘Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad! Let's have a beer!'

‘We're not havin' any beer, Sparrow. I'm too young to be a mum, and I don't wanna throw my youth away for a kid! Kids tie you down. I'm gettin' rid of it,' said Fly when Sparrow came to bed after the beach party.

‘What you talkin' about, girl? Fuck, we've been livin' together for a long time, ain't we? Is there anythin' you ain't got?'

‘I ain't got you, Sparrow! All you wanna know about is that bunch of playboys, going to dances, sometimes you disappear for a week at a time at them crazy camp-outs … You reckon I don't know you fuck the white girls? I'm gettin' rid of it and that's that. I've already talked to my friend, I'm drinkin' coffee-leaf tea, and I'm havin' the abortion tomorrow.'

‘I won't let ya!'

‘It's too late now – I've already drunk a shitload of tea and if I don't get rid of it, it might even be born deformed.'

Sparrow didn't say anything. He got up, pulled on his clothes and walked through the night until he got to Tiny's flat. He told his friend what had happened and Tiny consoled him:

‘Don't worry man, when women have kids they go to the dogs … Go get one of them white girls knocked up … nice and young …'

Yes, it was better that Fly got rid of the brat. It would actually be good, because he'd kick her out and she wouldn't be able to say a thing. He decided to roll a joint, then smoked it with his pal as a kind of celebration for making the right decision.

‘How ‘bout a shot of whisky?'

‘Why not?'

Tiny drank from the bottle, then passed it to Sparrow. They sat on the sofa and smoked a joint, talking and laughing while they drank the whisky. Sparrow was the first to fall asleep right there on the sofa. Tiny staggered to the bedroom and threw himself on the bed.

At around midday, someone pounded at the door. Gun in hand, Tiny opened it. Benite, looking sad, said he had some bad news:

‘Spit it out, man, spit it out!'

‘Sparrow's wife …'

‘Is she dead?!'

Sparrow's brother lowered his head and walked over to the
kitchen. Tiny hugged his friend, who, bug-eyed, fell silent for a few minutes, an expression of deep sadness on his face.

‘Where is she?'

‘At Xinu's place. People're saying it was an abortion.'

‘Who's there?'

‘No one, everyone got the hell out of there.'

‘I'm not goin' there, OK? I'm not goin' home either … Can I crash here, man?'

‘ ‘Course!' answered Tiny.

‘Give my brother some money for her funeral.'

Tiny gave Benite the money to give to Fly's family. Sparrow's brother went downstairs together with Tiny, who went out to search high and low in The Flats for a girl who was always smiling at him. She was pretty, she wasn't a slut, she studied, and she didn't hang around in the street all the time. He'd never had a woman like that. He started going out with her that very day. Sparrow locked himself away in his friend's flat for three days, without eating, showering or brushing his teeth. When friends dropped by, he'd exchange a few words then head back to the bedroom.

‘Get yourself protected, man! You're really jinxed. You've been stabbed, arrested, and your wife's just snuffed it … You gotta get yourself protected so you can relax, man!' Tiny told Sparrow a month and a half after beating up Butucatu.

‘OK! OK!'

Tiny called in Aunt Vincentina. She'd known him since he was a kid and had told him about some strong magic over in Vigário Geral. They went by taxi after dinner on the last day of the year. The priest gave him a quick session because he had to leave with the devotees for Copacabana, where they were going to see in the New Year.

They went back to the
favela
by taxi, believing that everything
would go swimmingly for them in the year that was about to begin. There would be no shortage of money or women. Vincentina thought the session had been badly done, and insisted that the two of them go to the beach for another session.

‘Ahh, auntie, I'm not goin'. I've already made plans with the Boys to have a party over at Katanazaka's place. I need to have some fun so I can stop thinkin' about Fly … Comin' Tiny?

‘I'm gonna drop by your parents' place, then I'm gonna keep quiet in The Flats.'

And that's what happened. That night Tiny was the only non-member of Sparrow's family at the gathering, but he was treated like one. After midnight, everyone went their separate ways. Before saying goodbye, they arranged to have dinner the next day at Composer's house. They missed Penha's cooking.

It was already morning when Sparrow left the Katanazakas' house and walked to The Flats. He was going to shower, change clothes, have a sleep, then go with Tiny to the other side of the
favela
to enjoy Penha's cooking. He found Tiny at Tim's place, drank another glass of wine and did what he'd decided to do.

At around three o'clock in the afternoon the bosses of the streets of City of God crossed the
favela
, discreetly armed. Tiny walked along looking serious, greeting the cool guys with just a nod of his head. Sparrow laughed and wished even those he didn't know a Happy New Year. The sun was hot and the streets were busy, as they were only on holidays.