City of God

by Paulo Lins

  As if that were not enough, Marisol sent a boy over to give her a toffee apple. He let her eat a little before walking slowly towards her with tearful eyes and arms ready for a hug and a kiss. Patrícia Katanazaka and Dóris found an excuse to leave the two alone. Marisol suggested that they head for The Plots. Adriana told him she thought using the loudspeaker to declare his love had been unnecessary. All he needed to do was say something and everything would have worked out fine; it would have been much better to keep it secret so Thiago wouldn’t suffer.

  ‘You saw with your own eyes how he tried to kiss me on Wednesday,’ she said as they strolled through the streets of The Plots.

  Marisol told her he hadn’t said anything earlier not out of friendship, but because he was a man, and men had to respect other guys’ girls. Now it was Thiago who should respect him and, when he found out they were together, he’d have to stop this business of trying to kiss her. He said he was shy and that was the only reason he’d used the fair announcer. He hadn’t even thought about Thiago – all he’d wanted to do was tell her how he felt about her. Still, if Thiago found out soon it would be easier for him to understand that she now belonged to another guy.

  After a while they stopped in a dark place to kiss and caress one another. Marisol tried everything to get her to have sex with him but, although she was turned on, she said no.

  Thiago strolled down Main Street with his hands in his pockets and his head down, dreaming up things to say to impress Adriana at the dance. He felt like the biggest dickhead for not being able to control his jealousy, which had made him attack two more of Adriana’s friends at the rock ‘n’ roll festival. He couldn’t even claim to have done it because he was out of it, because he’d stayed clean so he could keep an eye out. ‘No way am I gettin’ off my face and lettin’ some guy make a move on my girl while I’m not watchin’!’ he’d thought before they left.

  He was the only one who’d stayed clean during the festival, acting like a guard dog, watching every guy who admired her out of the corner of his eye, putting his arms around her almost constantly to show she was his. Whenever she moved away from the tent, he grew surly, his rudeness knew no bounds and he threatened to beat people up. He lost it completely when Adriana ran into two friends from the beach almost at the end of the festival and started chatting to them. Without a word, Thiago attacked them viciously, which started a huge fight, since the two were with other friends who ran to their aid. The Boys from the favela ended up knocking three of them out and breaking the arms of another two in a fight that was, in Adriana’s opinion, completely meaningless. She didn’t even bother telling him that she didn’t want to be with him any more. She believed her silence would be enough to make Thiago leave her in peace. They each made their own way home from the festival. At first it seemed he’d accepted the separation without any problems, but after a while he started approaching her whenever he got the chance. Even when they were among friends, Adriana would ignore him.

  Thiago found Patrícia Katanazaka and Dóris at the bus stop, asked after some friends, commented on the rain, made some small talk and then fell silent. Since he’d lost Adriana he’d said little, almost never saw his friends and could only think about making himself look better and dress better. He thought he was already good-looking, and if he had a lowered Beetle, with wide tyres, metallic paintwork, tinted windows and a roof rack, there wouldn’t be a single girl who could resist him; Adriana herself would run back into his arms when he drove past in sunglasses with his arm out the window.

  He arrived at the dance somewhat guarded, shook hands with his thirty-two friends in the middle of the hall and put his hands in his pockets. His heart beat faster when he noticed that neither Adriana nor Marisol were there. That fucking bastard had been acting all chummy so he could pounce on her as soon as he got the chance. He wanted to ask where Marisol was, but decided to stay quiet because he had the impression that everyone knew he was with Adriana and they’d take the piss out of him for sure. He danced with everyone, then slowly sidled off and discreetly left the club. He wasn’t sticking around to see Marisol strut in with his arm around his Adriana. He dashed to catch the 690, which went past full. He’d go straight home to bed, as this was the only thing he could do to get his mind off Adriana.

  Adriana convinced her new boyfriend to come out of the rain after a great deal of effort, as he was dead set on having sex with her. They went back to the fair. When he saw the rain had eased up, Marisol invited her to take a ride on the big wheel with the intention of keeping her by his side longer, and this was the exact moment that Thiago got off the bus a hundred metres away.

  The square was deserted and there were only a few people at the fair. Thiago was still set on going home, but when he saw the fair he changed his mind; he could have something to drink and play roulette to loosen up. He headed towards the fair again with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

  The raindrops became visible as they fell near the weak lights of the fair, a love song embraced the night, the wind-borne cold stung his face. He observed the people around him, who seemed to be wearing rags compared to his cool gear. He was good-looking, perhaps even more so than Marisol; Adriana wouldn’t think of trading him in for Marisol. He crossed the square sneaking glances at the Del Rei Bakery and the pharmacy, where Marisol often hung out.

  He entered the fair and went to the ticket counter, where he bought a shot of Fogo Paulista and two roulette chips. On the big wheel, Marisol’s mouth was glued to Adriana’s. Thiago saw them when he was halfway to the games stand. Everything spun so fast that the colours of the rainy night ran together, everything spun in his eyes, his whole body was tense, his hands shook, the sky came and went with the speed of the lightning that now lit it up, scribbling across the landscape. The long smooch, Marisol’s hands stroking his princess’s back, the Fogo Paulista burning his stomach, the music playing, his hatred growing, hot flushes pulsing through his body, the big wheel stopping and Thiago running, unnoticed by the couple.

  He went behind the petrol station, along the right branch of the river, and slowed to a walk when he realised they couldn’t see him. He couldn’t think; all he had in his mind was the image of that passionate kiss on the big wheel and Marisol’s hands stroking Adriana’s back. He rambled through the entire favela heedless of the rain, feeling that life would always be a big mess.

  Marisol woke after midday and, without eating, went up to the roof to smoke a joint. He had the habit of looking at the sky and thanking God for the good things that happened in his life. He couldn’t wait to give it to Adriana and watch her come in his arms. He thought about her while he examined the double-barrelled derringer he’d stolen from his father, who was a policeman. He had to give it a good clean so he could take it to the next dance at Cascadura Tennis Club. In the last fight the guys from Cascadura had come in greater numbers and kicked out the Boys from the favela, who’d really taken a pounding. This had never happened before. He’d fire a few shots to give their enemies a fright. He oiled it, cleaned it with kerosene and washed his hands, then he got a bit of dope, wrapped it in a piece of paper together with a few bullets for the derringer, stuck the gun in his waistband, and came down from the roof. In the bathroom, he splashed his hands with rose-scented lotion and put in some eye drops, then headed for Katanazaka’s house to show the Boys the gun.

  Mrs Katanazaka opened the gate and said she was the only one home. They made some small talk, then Marisol drank a glass of water and said goodbye.

  As he was leaving his friend’s place, he ran into Thiago who was holding a stick:

  ‘What’s up, man? If you’re lookin’ for me, here I am!’ said Thiago with bulging eyes and a medieval seriousness, ready to fight to the death.

  ‘What’s up, Green Eyes? Don’t go yet! Let’s have another smoke!’ said Acerola in Blonde Square one sunny morning.

  ‘Hey man, today’s Friday, I’m skint, and I can’t hang around smokin’ all day, ’cos I gotta work. I ain’t
a lazy arse like you, man!’ answered Green Eyes jokingly, then headed over to The Other Side of the River, carrying tools to put an iron gate in at Whiskers’ place.

  He was on a happy high from good weed. From time to time he switched the hand carrying the tools. He lit a cigarette before crossing the bridge, then swapped it with his partner for the gate he had on his back and carried it to Whiskers’ house.

  Green Eyes and his partner had been in the business for a month, long enough to discover the tricks and secrets of the trade. The main trick they discovered was using as little cement as possible in the installation and the secret was ripping the gate out at night, painting it a different colour and reselling it to someone else.

  ‘Hey, Green Eyes. I’m not sure I wanna pull the scam on Whiskers, man.’

  ‘C’mon! Whiskers might be a no-good, but he won’t come after us. That’s not how he works … How’s he gonna find out? All we gotta do is show up at night and rip it out on the sly … No one’s suspected anythin’ yet!’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, OK?’

  Whiskers was still asleep when Green Eyes clapped his hands in front of his house. He woke with a start. He thought Tiny had come looking for him again. He’d borrowed a gun from Tiny to do a hold-up, because his was damaged, but before he could overpower, rob and kill the owner of a pharmacy in Madureira, he was chased and caught by two military policemen, who took the stolen money and Tiny’s gun.

  Tiny was hard on Whiskers when he told him what had happened.

  ‘I want the same gun back, or five million cruzeiros, or a pound of gold in a week! If you don’t get it to me, you’re gonna bite the dust, got it? Got it?’

  It was impossible for Whiskers to give Tiny what he wanted, even if he got lucky in all his jobs all week long. He looked out of the window and was relieved to see Green Eyes and his partner. Even so, he went outside with his damaged gun cocked.

  When he’d made sure Tiny wasn’t around, he put away his gun, took twenty cruzeiros from his pocket and gave them to Green Eyes to finish paying for the gate and its installation. He was happy to please his wife, who’d been asking for a new gate for a long time. The children wouldn’t be able to run off any more.

  Green Eyes thought it odd that Whiskers was holding a gun, but he put in the gate as planned. All he had to do was wait until late at night, remove it and sell it to another dickhead.

  Green Eyes went off to buy dope. He’d heard someone say there was some good stuff at The Flats, so he headed over there feeling the friendly sun, his seventeen-year-old’s happiness borne along on a gentle breeze. He’d buy three bundles so he could share them with his friends and laugh all the harder. The sky would be more velvety, the light would be brighter, and everything he said or heard would be funnier and funnier. Among friends – it’s always the best way. The gate scam would work out all right, but if Whiskers suspected anything at all, he’d give him his money back, roll him a joint, and everything would be fine.

  Half an hour later he was smoking a huge joint with Orange, Acerola, Jackfruit and Mango. Green Eyes was enthusiastically telling them about the X Scorpion 1 scam, as he himself had named it. He waved his arms about as he showed them how he prepared the mixture to set the gate and how he stole it on Monday nights, which were always quiet. He’d sold the same gate to the same person on many occasions and, to throw people off the scent, he and his trusty sidekick, Valentin, painted the gate after every second sale so they could pull the X Scorpion 1 scam on another dickhead. He was the only person he knew who sold the same product to a number of customers. He called himself a successful businessman. His friends laughed.

  ‘If Whiskers finds out it’s you, he’s gonna be really pissed off!’ said Orange.

  ‘He won’t give a shit if he finds out!’ argued Mango, as they rolled their second joint.

  They hung around until dinnertime. Orange and Acerola were the only ones who still attended school. Mango had dropped out of secondary school and started snorting coke, against the advice of Orange, Acerola and Jackfruit – friends his mother was always telling him to drop, because she preferred him to hang around with the rich kids from Freguesia, who were white and good-looking like he was. Mango’s father, a Military Police lieutenant, had already disowned him for doing cocaine and stealing his parents’ money and valuables to get money for drugs. But instead of kicking his son out of the house, he moved out himself.

  Mango invited Jackfruit and Green Eyes for a snort at his place after Orange and Acerola had gone.

  * * *

  As soon as he got off the bus in Main Square after school, Acerola heard that Leaky Tap’s den had received some good shit; Leaky Tap’s assistant Victor had been handing out dope near Batman’s Bar at around 5 p.m. to advertise the product. He decided to pick up some weed to smoke after dinner. He smoked a joint with Victor, then said goodbye. He wasn’t sure whether to cross back over the State Water Department bridge or the big bridge, then decided to take the former, where he saw Tiny, Marcelo and Bicky dragging along Whiskers, who was crying and asking for more time to come up with the money. Acerola asked Tiny what was going on. Tiny told him half the story and said he was going to kill Whiskers over in the Cowshed. Whiskers cast looks at Acerola that were desperate pleas for mercy. At the outset Tiny was unbudging, but little by little he softened, until Acerola managed to convince him to give Whiskers another week to come up with ten million cruzeiros instead of five – for extending the deadline.

  That same day, Whiskers went out and held up two businesses, five pedestrians and two buses. He stole a car and stripped it himself in order to sell the parts, but only managed to raise one hundred and fifty thousand cruzeiros. Although he was nervous, he thought he was onto something good and he’d make it if he went out every day with the same attitude as he had that first day, but come to think of it, if he managed to come up with more than one million cruzeiros, he’d leave the favela for good. That’s what he had to do.

  The second time he went out to strike it lucky, he only got a third of what he’d got the previous day. He spent the day in silence, desperately snorting cocaine, in a depression he’d never before felt in his life. He only left his bedroom to buy more cocaine, always with his gun cocked and flinching at the slightest noise.

  The third time, he had to make a run for it because the security guards at the petrol station he’d decided to hold up opened fire on him and he almost got killed. He arrived at the favela barefoot and limping covered in scratches.

  It was late at night and, although his thoughts were scattered, Whiskers happened to see Green Eyes just at the moment he ripped out his gate. He waited in ambush in an alley. What Green Eyes was doing angered him deeply – perhaps he was only doing it because he’d heard through Acerola that he was the next to go, his number was up. He was a real bastard, and depended on Tiny’s protection in order to operate his scam. He waited for Green Eyes to get as close as possible so he could corner him.

  ‘I’m takin’ it so I can fix it, man! I even left a message with your wife,’ said Green Eyes, putting the gate on the ground and getting ready to jump at Whiskers. Whiskers lowered his gun, trying hard to control himself.

  Valentin, his trusty sidekick, trembled like a leaf in the wind and tried to hold his bowels so he wouldn’t shit himself in front of Whiskers, who jumped when his wife and children came running up, saying that those two had stolen the gate. He fired at Green Eyes without batting an eyelid. He tried again, but the second bullet didn’t leave the gun. It wasn’t even necessary, because Green Eyes’s heart had been blasted to shreds, and his trusty sidekick had already hotfooted it out of there, even before the first and only shot was fired.

  News of Green Eyes’s death spread fast. Acerola went with his friends to tell his mother and organise the funeral. At the wake, while smoking a joint, he told his friends how he’d saved Whiskers’ life just days before. After the funeral, he went home thinking about the irony of what fate had dished up. He stopped to buy a cigarett
e and lit it. When he turned around he saw Tiny sitting on his bike with one foot on the ground, the other on the pedal and a look of disgust on his face. Acerola looked into his eyes, lowered his head and listened to Tiny’s words:

  ‘You see? You didn’t let me kill the guy and the guy goes and kills your pal! But I killed ’im today!’ said Tiny, and moved on, without waiting to hear Acerola.

  Slick had been caught red-handed on his eighteenth birthday while he was mugging a couple in the city centre. He had gone with Carrots, who’d taken off and left Slick behind when he noticed the police approaching; he sensed his partner wouldn’t leave without trying to take the couple’s belongings.

  Slick was held at a police station in downtown Rio for a while. After he’d been tried and found guilty, he went to serve the sentence he’d been given: five years for the crimes he’d committed and for others he’d been forced to confess to under torture at the police station.

  He arrived at Lemos de Brito Prison quiet and tight-lipped. He made himself a place to sleep in the cell, and he didn’t leave it for a week.

  On the tenth day, at around midnight, he was woken by an inmate who told him that the chief wanted to talk to him immediately. He got up calmly, opened the cell and saw five men playing cards at the end of the corridor. Slick looked at the inmate who’d brought the message, then walked at a normal pace in the direction he’d indicated. The men kept on playing, pretending they hadn’t seen him. Slick stood there for a while. When he was about to open his mouth, he was suddenly cut short:

  ‘Where you from?’

  ‘City of God.’

  ‘What you in for?’

  ‘Theft.’

  ‘What rogues d’ya know in City of God?’

  ‘C’mon, pal, let me sleep …’

  ‘What’s all this “pal” crap? We friends by any chance?