Heading South by Dany Laferrière

the final steep approach to the house. He moves with a certain agility. As he comes up he removes his jacket and greets John with a smile that is both timid and proud. The farmers in northern Haiti are known for their extreme politeness. John shakes his hand. Becky smiles.

Harry at Large
    FOR ONCE, CHARLIE is on time. Fanfan has been waiting for him in the Rex Café, reading a Carter Brown.
    â€œSorry, old chum,” Charlie says when he arrives. “But the damn streets are impossible this morning. There’s a traffic jam stretching from the Au Beurre Chaud bakery all the way down to Firestone.”
    â€œThat’s not the way you come . . .”
    â€œI’m telling you what it’s like out there. Don’t you listen to the radio?”
    â€œNever. In any case, you’re not late.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIt’s eleven o’clock. I told you to be here at nine just to make sure you’d be here at eleven.”
    â€œBut it’s not even eleven yet, Fanfan . . .”
    â€œExactly . . . It’s five to eleven. So you see, you’re on time.”
    Charlie sits down and signals the waiter to bring him his usual (a sandwich and a glass of papaya juice).
    â€œI can’t believe you would do that to me . . .” he says. “I cancelled quite a few meetings to be here . . .”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re going on about . . . We were supposed to meet here at eleven, and you got here at five to. What time were you planning to get here?”
    Charlie shakes his head sadly.
    â€œYou’ve just screwed up my entire schedule.”
    â€œSince when have you had a schedule?”
    â€œIt’s all written down in here,” he says, pointing his index finger to his temple.
    The waiter arrives with a cup of steaming coffee and sets it down in front of Fanfan, who takes three large sips from it at the risk of burning his tongue.
    â€œWhat are we doing now?” Charlie asks.
    â€œWe’re waiting . . . That’s what happens when you arrive someplace early.”
    â€œOh, for Christ’s sake . . .”
    Fanfan laughs quietly.
    â€œWhat does this guy want, anyway?”
    â€œWhat do you think he wants?”
    â€œSex?”
    â€œAre you gassed up?”
    â€œGood, when is he supposed to get here?”
    â€œDon’t worry, he’s an American . . . He’ll be on time. Here he is now!”
    The man walks into the narrow café and heads straight towards the only two customers sitting at a table. He sits down without introducing himself.
    â€œA friend told me about you.”
    â€œAbout who?”
    â€œWhich one of you is Fanfan?”
    â€œBingo! I win! Am I allowed to know who my publicist is?”
    â€œA woman you’ve been seeing.”
    â€œSo what do you want,” Charlie asks dryly.
    â€œI gather you know a lot of girls . . .”
    â€œWhat makes you think that?”
    â€œI’ve been watching you since . . .”
    The waiter comes over with a plate that he sets down in front of Charlie.
    â€œMan, I’m starved.”
    Harry watches him literally gulp his sandwich and wash it down with long swallows of papaya juice.
    â€œI’ve bought a small house down by the sea,” Harry finally says, “and I want to invite a few friends over.”
    â€œWell, what do you know!” Fanfan says sarcastically. “Who’d have thought you’d come all the way down here to invite us to your little beach party?”
    â€œNo,” Harry says deliberately. “I only want girls.”
    â€œSo?” Charlie yelps.
    â€œSo, if you agree to lend us some of your little friends . . .”
    â€œI don’t get it,” Charlie says.
    â€œWhat don’t you get, Charlie? This gentleman wants us to lend him some girls for his friends. That’s not so hard to understand, is it? Sometimes you lend me your motorbike, don’t you . .