Rawi Hage - De Niro's Game

He came in a car with two other guys. From far away I could hear their loud music. Dust flew up and smothered the scent of the idiot’s perfumed aftershave and hair gel. He got out of the car. I watched from behind a tree as he walked uphill in his flat Italian shoes, slipping on the rocks, carrying his shiny leather jacket on his arm. I let him pass me by; when I saw his back, I walked slowly toward him. I grabbed his jacket and threw it on the ground, and I pushed him against a tree.

Najib jerked in fear. I looked at his hands; they were empty. I ran my hand along his waist; he was clean.

Who is in the car? I asked.

My friends, he said, startled. He smelled of alcohol.

Why did you bring your friends?

We are on our way to Broumana.

No one should have come with you.

They do not know about our deal.

I slipped his share of money into his pocket and said to him, You are reckless and acting like an idiot. One day Abou-Nahra will find out and he will put a bullet in your head. Not your cousin or your mother will stop him from doing it. Now, go and say that you went for a piss. That’s what you told them, right?

He did not answer.

I walked up the hill and looked down into the valley. Then I looked at the sea in front of me, the sea I’d have to plunge into and slip beneath and swim through one day, to reach other shores and leave this place.

GEORGE CAME BACK FROM ISRAEL.

He called me, and I went to see him at his place. AbouHaddid opened the door. He kissed me, held my neck, and made me sit next to him, tapping his hand on my shoulder. George had a deep desert tan. They were both sniffing cocaine from a flat glass surface.

Do you want a line of dried milk? George pointed at the coffee table.

No, I will pass.

George wore a T-shirt with three Hebrew letters on it. He looked muscular, quieter, and his hair was shaved. He moved slower and seemed more intense. He poured whisky and talked of the camp in the desert and the training.

When you sneak up on an enemy from behind to slash his throat, you should hold him by the chin and not his mouth, because he will bite your hand, right? So we had to practise it. Paul Jeouriege — you know, the one who lives in Karm Al- Zeitoun? You know him, Bassam, he drives the white Fiat with the high spoiler — anyway, he put his hand on Beebo’s mouth, not his chin, right? So what does Beebo do? He bit his hand and he wouldn’t let go, and Paul was screaming in pain, Wou yallah shid ya, Beebo, shid mitl ma shad bayak awwal laylah (Push, push, Beebo, in the same way your father pushed on his first night).

George and Abou-Haddid both laughed.

Listen to George’s story, Abou-Haddid said to me. Listen. On your sister’s honour, listen. This guy is a big fannas (liar).

George was high and smiling. He looked at me and said, By your father’s lost soul, Bassam, tell Abou-Haddid about Nicole, that young woman who gave me her number in Broumana. You were with me then. Tell this guy.

Yeah, I was there. She is hamshah, shalkhah , I said.

Shalkhah , right? said George. Well, I gave her a call. An older man answered the phone, right? I thought it was her father, but when I asked her, Nicole said no, he is her husband.

Should I call you later? I asked her.

No, she said, not to worry, and she kept on talking, natural, like no one is there, right?

So I kept on calling her every day, and sometimes I asked her what she was wearing, and she would tell me she had nothing on, or some lace underwear, or sometimes just a T-shirt.

So we started to talk dirty, while her husband is still at home, right? When I asked if her husband was there once, she said that he was listening on the other line. So I am thinking, What the fuck? You know, maybe he is not a real man, right?

The next time I called he recognized my voice and said, How are you, George? Come and visit us sometime. Then Nicole took the phone and we started to talk, natural.

George approached the tray, kneeled, and took a snort of cocaine. He inhaled through one nostril while blocking the other with his index finger. Then he continued:

So I went to their home in Surssock. You know, one of those fancy houses. A maid opened the door. The man, who maybe is in his sixties, maybe older, he looked like her father. He had white hair and was dressed in his robe de chambre and slippers, and he was smoking a big cigar. He invited me in and started to talk to me in French, right? Bonjour, George, comment ça va? He showed me around the house. Then Nicole came and kissed me on the mouth right in front of him. Then she turned, kissed him on the cheeks, and called him Loulou. He called her Bébé .

They opened French wine, and all the time Nicole is looking at me and smiling.

I would fuck them both, yelled Abou-Haddid. And the maid too.

Wait, listen. George stood up, filled with energy. Listen. Nicole takes off her shoes and plays footsie with me under the table. After dinner, the maid left the house.

I would fuck the maid, Abou-Haddid interrupted again. I would fuck the maid!

And we sat in the salon, George continued. She sat next to me and held my hand, right?

In front of her husband? Abou-Haddid asked.

Yeah, in front of him.

What did you do? I asked.

Well, I said, Excusez-moi, but are you really husband and wife?

Bien oui, said Laurent — that was the name of her husband. Bien oui, George, absolument . Nicole likes you. C’est quoi le problème, alors?

Nicole started to kiss me. Then she took my gun and she said, I love strong men. Regarde, Laurent. Regarde, mon chéri, and she handed him my gun, right? Laurent looked at it and said, C ’est un vrai guerrier, lui . Now her hand was on my dick, right? She was breathing heavily, all excited. She went down on her knees, pulled my zipper down, and moved her head up and down.

In front of him? Abou-Haddid shouted. Do you believe this story, Bassam?

Wait, George interrupted. There is more. Now she is sucking me and the guy starts to cheer her on. He claps his hand and sings, V as-y, Nicole, vas-y, bébé, vas-y, bébé . When I came, he ran to the kitchen, got her a towel, and held her face and cleaned around her mouth. All the time saying, Bébé, mon petit bébé . .

Then Laurent asked me to leave. C’est tard, George, he said. Nicole est fatiguée maintenant . He walked me to the door, thanked me, and said, Nicole likes you and we will call you again.

Did she call you? Abou-Haddid asked.

Yeah, she did.

Can I come with you? Abou-Haddid laughed. He bent toward the tray, his nose diving forward.

George walked me down the stairs on my way out and said, Listen, it seems tension is growing between you and Najib. You better work things out, or maybe both of you should stop the deal. I do not want Abou-Nahra to find out. If he does, he might ask me to put a bullet in both of your heads. If you need the money, you can always join the forces.

You talk to your cousin, I replied.

THAT NIGHT, THROUGH the flames of a million candles that brawled inside the neighbourhood houses, I walked. Under those lights, hazy behind nylon sheets that covered our broken windows, I walked the streets with no dogs. I walked, and the candles danced inside a city with injured walls, a city void of light, a broken city wrapped in plastic, and plastered with bullet holes.

On my way, I met Um-Dolly. She was going to the church for evening prayer; her head was covered in a black lace scarf.

I will pray for your lost soul, my son. God’s wrath is great and it’s upon us all.