ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第13部分

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en；　were　in　ruins。　Everyone　seemed　dazed；　like　zombies。
　The　bus　stopped　in　Havana　Viejo。　Deal　trailed　the　walking　tour；　looking　into　the　almost　empty　stores。　An　emaciated　old　black　woman　said　out　of　the　corner　of　her　mouth；　〃If　you're　a　reporter；　tell　them　we're　starving；〃　and　kept　walking。　Prostitutes　in　spandex　with　badly　bleached　hair　called　out　to　him。　Some　of　them　looked　so　young；　like　little　girls　masquerading　as　whores　for　Halloween。　Hustlers　harassed　him；　asking　him　what　he　needed。　Cocaine？　Putas？　Muchachos？　He　answered；　〃Nada；　nada；　nada。〃
　Deal　couldn't　deal　with　it　anymore。　He　craved　a　drink　or　two　or　three；　as　he　stumbled　on　La　Bodequita　del　Medio。　The　bar　of　the　cavelike　restaurant　was　covered　with　graffiti　and　pictures　of　Hemingway。　He　wondered　if　there　was　any　bar　in　the　world　where　Hemingway　hadn't　drunk。　He　read　a　sign　that　said　〃Home　of　the　Mojito；〃　so　he　ordered　one；　as　a　tough…looking　young　man　dressed　like　Dick　Tracy　walked　over　and　sat　next　to　him　at　the　bar。　〃I'm　Mike　Weston　from　Miami；〃　he　said；　holding　out　his　hand。　John　shook　it。
　〃You　here　for　the　babes；〃　Mike　said；　〃right？〃　John　just　looked　at　him。　〃Havana　is　the　best　place　for　putas　in　the　world。　In　Miami；〃　Mike　went　on；　〃chicks　think　they're　too　good　for　you　even　if　they're　dogs。　In　Cuba；　for　five　dollars　you　can　get　Claudia　Schiffer。　And　they're　pure。　They　don't　got　AIDS。　Any　fifteen…year…old　chick　can　be　yours　for　five　dollars。　Some　only　want　soap。〃
　Deal　tried　to　imagine　being　desperate　enough　to　have　sex　with　someone　who　only　wanted　to　get　clean；　wondered　how　long　the　embargo　would　last　if　the　Miami　Cubans　knew　what　it　was　doing　to　their　own　people。
　〃Got　to　go　now；〃　Mike　said；　leaving　to　join　a　group　of　men　who　had　just　entered　the　bar。　They　sat　at　a　table　in　the　back　surrounded　by　Cuban　soldiers。
　Deal　rubbed　his　eyes。　One　of　the　guys　looked　like　Juan　Carlos　Reyes；　that　deluded　rich　guy　who　thought　he　was　president　of　Cuba　in　exile。　He　was　sure　the　pudgy　bald　guy　at　the　head　of　the　table　was　Big　Joey　G。　One　other　guy　at　the　table　looked　familiar。
　Deal　tried　to　place　him　as　he　tossed　back　another　mojito；　and　then　it　hit　him。　It　was　that　Cuban　guy；　Hector；　in　Miami。　The　guy　who'd　forced　him　off　the　road　into　the　bay；　then　followed　him　around　when　he　had　the　head。　Hector　didn't　look　too　thrilled　about　being　with　this　particular　group。　And　there　was　a　pasty…faced　Anglo…looking　guy　beside　him　who　looked　just　as　unhappy。
　Deal　faced　dead　ahead　now；　shaking　his　head；　sipping　his　drink。　He　was　gonna　sit　there　till　they　left。　He　didn't　want　to　be　recognized。　Time　went　by　in　slow　motion。　Then　Deal　felt　a　tap　on　his　shoulder。　His　heart　stopped。　He　turned　around。　It　was　Mike　Weston。　〃Hey；　man；　you　want　to　e　with　me　and　score　some　Schiffers？〃　he　asked。
　
　Lilia　Sands　sat　in　her　house　in　Overtown；　on　her　plastic…covered　velvet　settee；　the　one　that　no　one　was　allowed　to　sit　on。　She　was　dressed　in　her　favorite　nightgown；　the　one　with　the　silk　and　feathers　and　lace；　the　one　she　called　her　wedding　dress；　the　one　she　wanted　to　be　buried　in。　Light　from　the　huge　moon　over　Miami　flowed　through　the　window。　There　was　something　in　the　hot　air。　Lilia　could　feel　it；　could　taste　it。　It　was　the　tropics；　it　was　her　youth；　it　was　Cuba。　She　was　sure　the　air　she　was　breathing　had　blown　up　from　her　beloved　Cuba。　Her　fingers　stroked　her　guitar。
　Lilia　drifted　back；　flowed　with　the　air　back　to　Cuba；　back　to　the　day　her　parents　had　given　her　to　the　nuns　because　they　had　no　food　to　feed　her　because　of　Batista；　back　to　the　day　the　nuns　had　shaved　her　head；　and　taken　her　one　dress；　the　one　made　from　the　train　of　her　mother's　wedding　gown。　She'd　sat　naked　in　front　of　the　convent　window；　tears　streaming　down　her　face　as　she　touched　the　luxurious　pile　of　black　hair　on　the　floor　that　would　soon　be　made　into　a　wig；　unable　to　make　herself　put　on　the　coarse　black　habit。　She　remembered　caressing　her　long　swanlike　neck；　her　perfect　soft　breasts；　her　hand　following　the　flow　of　sweat　down；　caressing　her　belly；　touching　the　only　hair　she　had　left。　But　before　she　could　escape　into　herself；　a　cold；　hard　hand　had　clapped　over　her　mouth。　She'd　tried　to　scream　but　nothing　came　out。
　As　the　man　in　the　trademark　olive　fatigues　bounced　along　Miami's　potholed　Overtown　streets　in　the　back　of　the　white　stretch　limo；　he　strained　to　remember。　He　wanted　to　get　the　details　perfect　by　the　time　he　arrived　at　Lilia's　house：　He　had　seen　her　in　the　moonlight；　an　image　so　beautiful　that　it　hurt；　causing　a　throbbing　pain　in　his　groin。　She'd　looked　like　some　kind　of　angel；　some　kind　of　Madonna；　some　kind　of　whore　sitting　in　the　convent　window。　She　was　everything；　she　was　nothing；　she　was　Cuba。　And　as　Columbus　had　said　when　he　landed　on　the　island；　〃No　man　has　ever　seen　a　land　as　beautiful　as　this。〃　No　man　had　ever　seen　a　woman　as　beautiful　as　Lilia。　He　couldn't　help　himself。　He'd　stripped　off　his　clothes；　his　body　the　white　of　sweet　condensed　milk；　hard；　trembling　with　anticipation。　He'd　climbed　the　statue　of　the　Virgin　de　la　Caridad　del　Cobre；　grabbed　a　rose　trellis；　not　even　feeling　the　thorns　of　the　rosebushes　cutting　into　his　skin；　and　left　tiny　dewdrops　of　red　blood　on　the　white　window…sill　as　he　climbed　into　Lilia's　room。
　Now　the　limo　was　passing　the　vacant　lot　beside　the　small　house　where　Lilia　lay　back　on　the　settee；　strumming　the　guitar；　singing　to　her　memories；　to　the　moon。
　Lilia　remembered　that　at　the　exact　moment　she　had　felt　the　hand　on　her　mouth；　she　had　felt　the　lips　on　her　bald　scalp；　then　a　warm　tongue　licking；　licking；　licking　like　a　kitten　licking　cream。　And　with　each　lick　she'd　melted　with　pleasure；　so　much　pleasure　that　she　knew　in　her　heart　that　there　was　nothing　she　wouldn't　do　for　this　nameless；　faceless　man。　And　he'd　removed　his　hand　from　her　face　to　swallow　her　mouth　with　his　and　he'd　tasted　of　the　brown　caramel　sauce　on　flan。　Then　he'd　pulled　away　from　her　and　held　out　his　arms　and　he　looked　like　Jesus　on　the　cross；　those　same　suffering　eyes　and　the　blood　dripping　from　his　rose…pricked　body；　and　he'd　said；　〃I；　Fidel　Castro；　on　this　Good　Friday　in　the　year　of　Our　Lord　one　thousand　nine　hundred　and　fifty；　will　turn　you；　my　queen；　into　a　woman　and　will　begin　my　destiny　of　turning　Cuba　into　a　real　man；　one　that　would　never　starve　his　children。〃
　And　then　Lilia　remembered　how　Fidel　had　taken　her　in　his　arms　and　laid　her　down　on　the　hard　little　nun　cot　and　it　was　like　it　was　made　out　of　the　finest　down；　and　then；　Dios　mia；　sweet　heart　of　Jesus；　he　entered　her；　the　intense　pleasure…pain　of　it；　and　the　nuns　broke　out　into　a　chorus　of　〃Ave　Maria；〃　and　birds　started　to　sing　even　though　it　was　nighttime；　and　all　the　glass　in　the　convent　shattered　and　the　rosebushes　pushed　out　such　a　rose　smell　that　spread　throughout　the　island；　causing　all　the　men　in　Cuba　to　grow　with　desire　and　all　women　to　weep　with　satisfaction。　He　made　love　to　her　for　three　days　and　three　nights　and　when　he　tried　to　leave　she　grabbed　his　hair　and　bit　his　left　earlobe；　taking　a　notch　of　flesh　between　her　teeth；　tasting　his　blood。　But　his　strength　was　too　great。　As　he　finally　broke　free　and　his　hair　gave　way；　she　was　left　with　a　lock　in　her　hand　and　a　piece　of　his　ear　in　her　mouth。
　Lilia　heard　the　churn　of　the　limo's　big　gringo　engine　as　it　stopped　in　front　of　her　house。　She　dropped　the　guitar　and　rose　to　her　feet；　drawn　up　by　some　unseen　force。　Outside；　the　sunroof　of　the　limo　slid　open　and　he　sprang　through；　like　a　jack…in…the…box；　like　a　God　lit　up　by　a　shaft　of　moonlight；　and　at　the　exact　same　time；　the　candle　she　was　burning　to　Ochun　flared。
　Lilia　felt　her　feet　start　to　move　before　she　could　even　think；　and　she　was　out　the　door；　in　the　street；　and　she　entered　and　he　was　there；　her　love　was　there　and　beautiful　and　the　years　had　been　kind　to　him　and　she　could　hardly　breathe　as　he　said；　〃I　told　you　I　would　e　and　get　you　in　a　giant　white　chariot。〃　Then　somehow　her　nightgown　melted　off　her　body；　the　feathers　detaching　and　fluttering　around　her。　The　only　thing　she　could　do　was　say　his　name；　the　most　beautiful　word　in　the　world　to　her；　〃Fidelito！〃　Her　whole　body　trembled　as　he　brought　his　lips　to　hers　and　took　her　in　his　arms。　And　then；　nothing。　Something　was　wrong。　No　taste　of　caramel。　She　stroked　his　hair；　started　to　cry　for　their　lost　youth。　As　she　cried；　she　reached　out　to　touch　his　left　ear；　then　to　caress　it。　It　was　smooth；　whole；　unscarred。
　Lilia　jerked　up　wildly；　shoving　with　animal　fury；　shrinking　from　him　as　if　he　had　opened　his　mouth　and　revealed　a　serpent's　tongue。
　When　she　finally　found　her　voice　she　screamed；　〃Fraud！　Where's　my　Fidel？〃
　
　Britt　was　going　to　give　her　lunch　appointment　with　Dash　Brandon　two　chances：　minuscule　and　infinitesimal。　If　she　couldn't　find　a　parking　space　on　Ocean　Drive；　she　would　drive　right　by　Brandon　without　a　glance　in　the　rearview。　She'd　e　up　with　some　excuse　later。　Her　puter　crashed　on　deadline。　The　causeway　bridge　got　stuck　open。　Her　cats　ate　her　homework。
　But　just　as　she　passed　the　corner　of　Ninth　Street；　a　pink　and　white　'56　Chevy　convertible　glided　out　from　the　parking　spot　it　had　occupied　since　the　Reagan　administration；　forcing　Britt　to　slam　on　her　brakes　less　than　a　block　from　the　News　Cafe；　where　Dash　awaited。　She　glanced　suspiciously　at　the　gaping　vacancy　on　the　curb　directly　opposite　her。　She　hadn't　seen　that　much　real　estate　by　a　parking　meter　in　South　Beach　in　months。
　〃What　the　hell；〃　she　sighed；　and　pulled　in。　From　a　table　on　the　terrace；　Dash　and　a　plump　man　wearing　a　dog　collar；　tight　leather　pants；　and　a　T…shirt　that　said　〃SOBE；　where　the　girls　are　strong　and　the　men　are　pretty；〃　watched　South　Beach's　human　smorgasbord　parade　past　the　News　Cafe：　models　and　more　models；　male　and　female；　the　greatest　concentration　of　beauty　that　had　ever　occurred　in　the　history　of　the　planet；　old　retirees　and　young　ultratrendies　dressed　in　the　same　〃vintage〃　outfits；　struggling　artists　splattered　in　paint；　real　estate　agents　frothing　at　the　mouth；　tattooed　Mariel　refugees　smoking　cigars；　punks　with　red　hair；　old　ladies　with　blue　hair；　European　backpackers；　Eurotrash；　topless…G…string　beauties　baking　brown　almost　all　over；　greased　muscle…bound　depilated　gay　boys；　Hasids　in　fur　hats　and　black　coats；　Miami　gangbangers；　pimps；　whores；　celebutantes；　dominatr