The words came in a flurry like a series of punches, sending him in retreat.

“Look,” he said, speaking slowly through a daze, “I’m really not in the mood for this. Have a good night.”

He began to walk back to Buju’s stall and she followed him, cursing and spearing him with taunts.

“Is wha de bloodclaat this?” Ian said as Fire came up the street with her.

“She has problems,” Fire said. “That’s all I can say.”

She began to draw a crowd now, and rumors began to spread. “Is him babymodda.” “She ketch im wid a gyal.” “Ah hear seh him give her gonorrhea.”

“You cyaah talk to the big man so!” Ian said from across the table, speaking not to a person but to a symbolic emasculator. Dr. Lewis, whom he addressed in his mind as Hectoring Bitch, was every woman with power over his life: Margaret, his mother, Claire, and now Sylvia—who, it seemed, had pushed him toward the edge of Fire’s life.

Defend the cause, he thought as he glared at Fire, who was standing there looking bored. Just box her down for me. Don’t be pussy now. Act like a man. Grab the gyal and shake her at least.

“Is awright, Ian,” Fire said to him. “Let her run off her mouth. If you talk to her, all she gweh do is get more hype.”

Ian leaned into his ear. “You cyaah make she disrespek you in fronta people like this, Fire. People know you, y’know.”

“Leave it alone,” Fire said. “She not fazing me at all.”

“Well, fuck, she disturbing me. So I gweh deal wid her,” Ian said. “Ay, gyal,” he said to her. “Shut your bloodclaat mouth!”

The crowd fell silent—from excitement, not fear. They wanted to hear the exchange.

“Baldhead bwai,” she said, jabbing a hand in his face. “Shut your ass when big people talking. Because you come inna newspaper you think you’re a big shot. I will never let any man threaten me publicly or privately and get away with it. Too many men feel they can bully women in this country.”

Some women in the crowd began to nod.

Before Ian could reply, Fire grabbed him. “Done it, man,” he said. “Cut out this fucking back-and-forth.”

“I’m not a boy, Fire,” Ian said defensively. “You cyaah deal wid me this kinda way.”

“If you’re a man then act like a man, then,” Fire told him. “Men don’t argue with women. That’s for little sissy boys.”

“Who tell you that,” Ian replied, feeling let down and betrayed, “you battyman father? Why y’haffe gwaan like a pussy all the while!”

The crowd began to whisper and Dr. Lewis laughed.

“Ian,” Fire said through his teeth, “you better say you’re sorry. And you better say it fast.”

“Man, fuck you,” Ian said, as he pushed him aside and stormed away. “You always a-make woman rule you. Sometimes I feel y’is a battyman too.”

Fire turned to Buju; his eyes were pilot lights of rage. “Did you hear that?” he said quietly as he felt his temperature rise. “Now, if ah fuck him up people gweh say ah wicked.”