The Trade Off

by Frank Zafiro

  If he showed.

  Ten minutes later, a deep blue Lincoln turned off Wellesley and into the large empty parking lot. As it drew closer to me, I got a look at the driver. He was a black guy I’d never seen before. But I recognized Anton in the passenger seat. In the back seat, I could see two women.

  Young women.

  The car stopped a half dozen yards away. Anton got out immediately and strode towards me. “You like yourself a wide open space, don’t you, H.? You couldn’t park no closer to the stadium?”

  I shrugged. “There might be maintenance people there. Groundskeepers. Maybe even security. No one cares about this lot, though.”

  “That right?”

  “It is.”

  He stopped in front of me. “Couldn’t be that you don’t feel so safe around mean old Anton no more? Huh? The other night scare you some?”

  I stared at him, then smiled. “No. It was a walk in the park.”

  He chuckled. “Funny shit. You got the message, then.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know the message was supposed to be that you weren’t safe to be around. I thought the message was that you were paranoid.”

  “You know what I heard about that?”

  “No. But you’re going to tell me, right?”

  “Damn straight. How else a sheltered woman like you gonna learn anything?” He smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. More one that said he was pleased with himself. “I heard that a man might be paranoid as all get out but that don’t mean there ain’t people out to fuck with him.”

  “You’re a cautious man.”

  His smile faded. “I’m a business man. And better careful than dead. That’s what I’m saying.”

  I wondered for a moment if this was Anton’s half-assed, half-hearted attempt at an apology. I kinda hoped so. It would mean that he was all good with me again.

  “So since I am a business man, let’s get down to it.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m gonna show you something, H. Something special. And the first motherfucking words outta your mouth had better be a price I can live with. If not, I’m gone as Elvis.”

  I squinted. “Elvis? I had you figured for more of a Tupac fan.”

  “Shee-it, Tupac ain’t gone. Motherfucker keeps releasing CDs, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “There you go, then. Talking shit about something you ignorant about. But I can’t say Elvis without you getting all worked up? What’s wrong with you, H.? You acting all white today.”

  That made me smile in spite of everything. “I’m white as Elvis, Anton. Now what do you have?”

  But he ignored me, wanting to get in the last word. “White as Elvis? You serious? That dude was the blackest white man since…shit, since ever.”

  “Anton.” I spoke slowly and deliberately. “What do you have for me today?”

  He smiled and motioned toward the car with his index finger. “You gonna like this shit.”

  The passenger door opened and one of the young women got out. She had deep dark hair that hung past her shoulders. Her steps were tentative, until Anton snapped his fingers and beckoned her.

  “Hurry your young ass up.”

  When she got closer, I could see she was even younger than I thought. Fifteen. Maybe. Her eyes held dim confusion mixed with dull fear.

  “What’s she on?” I asked Anton.

  His smile faltered. “That’s all you got to ask me? I bring you this fine ass trim, and all you wanna know is what she been taking to relax?”

  “They’re no good to me stoned.”

  “Ain’t no thing. After a while, they be unstoned. That’s how it work.”

  “Not if they’re addicts. We talked about this already.”

  “It’s weed, H. Motherfuckin’ Mary Jane. Jeez-sus fuck.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Yeah, man. You want some, too? ‘Cause you one uptight bitch today.”

  I looked the girl in the eye. “What’s your name?”

  She shook her head slightly and looked to Anton.

  “She don’t speak no English,” he told me. Then he said to the girl, “Kak vas zovut?”

  She blinked stupidly for a moment, as if the words didn’t mean anything to her coming from Anton. Then recognition came into her eyes. She turned back to me.

  “Faina. Menya zovut Faina.”

  “Faina,” I repeated.

  “Fah-eeeen-ah,” she pronounced slowly.

  I repeated it back to her.

  She smiled and nodded. “Da.”

  “See, now you friends and shit,” Anton said. “That’s beautiful.”

  “I’m impressed,” I told him. “Where’d you learn Russian?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You just spoke it.”

  “And that’s all I know. To ask a name. Well, ‘cept for day mne seks, ‘course.”

  I didn’t need a translation for that.

  Anton continued without missing a beat. "Now we done with all the pleasantries. You interested?”

  “How much?”

  He rattled off a figure twice as high as I’d paid for the Russian women.

  I didn’t react to the inflated price. Instead, I glanced at his car. “What about the other one?”

  Anton took a deep breath and scratched his chin. Then he shook his head. “Naw, she just along for the ride.”

  “Bullshit,” I told him. “You just want me to think she’s not available so I’ll pay more.”

  He laughed. “Shee-it, H. I ain’t that devious.”

  “Then bring her out here.”

  He hesitated. “Thing is, she really ain’t for sale. She probably going the other direction.”

  “At least let me have a look.”

  He nodded slowly. “A’ight, a’ight. But this shit’s only for sample purposes, hear?”

  “Sure.”

  Anton waved again. After a moment, the other passenger got out of the car. She bowed her head and walked directly toward us.

  “Damn, Anton. Now, that girl is white.”

  He smiled appreciatively. “That’s no lie.” When she drew close, he added, “See that skin? Like motherfucking porcelain.”

  He was right. Her skin was smooth and healthy, not like some of the women I’d already rescued from Anton and his crew. Her eyes were downcast and she kept her hands folded in front of her. Her hair was a bright blonde, a color I used to jokingly refer to as cheerleader yellow. But it was thick and lustrous, and well cared for. She wore a white blouse without a bra and a pair of snug blue shorts that were half a size away from being Daisy Dukes. She carried it off, though. She had a woman’s body. I guessed her age at seventeen or eighteen.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She didn’t look up.

  I glanced to Anton. “How do you say it again? Kak vas…what?”

  “She ain’t Russian.” Anton reached out and nudged her shoulder, causing her to flinch. “Answer the woman, bitch.”

  Her eyes flicked up to me, and I could immediately see that she was younger than I thought. Maybe as young as the dark-haired girl.

  “Taylor,” she whispered, barely audible.

  Anton smacked her shoulder and she jumped. “Speak up, bitch.”

  “I heard her.” I turned back to Anton. “How much did you say?”

  He rattled off the figure again. “That be just for the dark-haired one.”

  “No, I want both.”

  He chuckled. “Why’d I know that was coming? Should have kept her in the car.”

  “Both,” I repeated. “How much?”

  He sighed. “See, to do that, I gotta disappoint another customer. I don’t like doing that.”

  I looked at Faina and Taylor. Faina stared back at me dully, but when Taylor glanced up, her expression was fearful. She mouthed two words to me. Then, after a second, she mouthed a third word before dropping her gaze.

  “So how about we just do the one?” Anton continued.

  I turned to h
im and put on my best game face. “Are they virgins?”

  He shrugged. “Close enough.”

  I almost laughed. “There is no close enough. They either are or they aren’t.”

  He pointed at Faina. “She suck cock too good to be a virgin, but unless the customer a doctor or some shit, she can play it up well enough. You get a month or two of fantasy first times out of her, to be sure.”

  I pointed at Taylor. “What about her?”

  Anton pursed his lips. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know for sure. I know I ain’t tapped that ass yet, so she ain’t ruined for most white boys.” He tapped Taylor on the shoulder again. “What about it, bitch? You get your v-card punched yet?”

  Taylor swallowed, and glanced up at Anton and back at the ground. “Yes…I mean…”

  “Yes, you a virgin? Or yes, you been fucked?”

  “I…I haven’t…I mean…”

  “Kee-rist. Shut up, you stuttering bitch.” He turned to me. “She a virgin. Or close enough, just like the other one.”

  “Good.”

  “But like I said, she ain’t for sale.”

  “Everything’s for sale,” I said. “For the right price.”

  Anton grinned again. “That’s why I like you, H. You say all kinds of sweet things.”

  “I’m that kind of person.”

  “But she really ain’t—”

  “Here’s what I’ll do,” I said, my voice brisk and business-like. “We’ll skip the back and forth. We both know you’d knock off a third if we did that. Let’s save a little time and aggravation. I’ll pay your asking price.”

  “Done,” he said.

  “But I want both of them.”

  Anton hesitated again, this time longer than before. I knew we were close to a deal. I waited, studiously avoiding the dull look from Faina or Taylor’s desperate glances. Instead, I nudged Anton just a little.

  “It’s not like I haven’t been your best customer,” I told him. “And it’s not like this is a one-time deal, either.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “I hear ya. But how about I bring you the next one? That way both you and my other customer be happy.”

  “No.” I pointed at the two of them. “Do you know how much my clients can make marketing these two? Virgin threesomes. Virgin lesbians. The possibilities are huge. That’s why I’m willing to pay a premium here.”

  Anton sighed. “A’ight. But you got to throw in another twenty percent.”

  “Why?”

  “Aggravation fee. I gotta give something to my other buyer to soften the blow.”

  “And line your own pocket?”

  “Shee-it. I get my cut. This is on the up and up.”

  I pretended to consider for a few seconds. Then I nodded slowly. “All right. Deal.” I named the final amount to make sure we were clear. It was probably more than I’d spent all together in this operation so far, but I figured the feds were good for it.

  “Good enough.” He waved the girls back to the car, and watched them go. “You just bought yourself some fine young pussy, H.”

  “I’ll need a day or two to get the money.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Anton shook his head. “This shit has a window of opportunity attached to it. Tomorrow.”

  A small, cold knot of dread formed in my stomach. Getting that kind of cash together that fast would be tricky. The feds had deep pockets but they were protected by miles of red tape. “I can’t do that.”

  He shrugged. “Then I guess you be disappointed instead of the guy I’m about to have to go talk to.”

  “I can’t get the money that fast,” I said. “It has to be couriered up here.”

  “Yeah? From where?”

  “South.”

  He smiled. “See? You paranoid, too.”

  “I need another day or two.”

  “And I need some whisky that don’t leave me hung over in the morning. Somehow I think we both gonna be disappointed.” He turned to walk away. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll set up a meet.”

  I stared after him, silent.

  When he reached the car, he opened the door, then looked back at me again. “Or we won’t. You let me know.”

  He got in. As soon as he closed the door, the car accelerated, turning a tight circle and heading toward the exit. I watched him go, my mind replaying the exchange. I should have been thinking about all of the arguments I was going to make to expedite the request for that kind of money. Why it was worth it, what it would mean for this operation. I should have been happy that I now had Anton on audio and video, brokering a deal for an underage sex slave.

  But all I could think about was the three words that Taylor mouthed at me.

  Help me, she’d pleaded.

  And then the final word.

  Please.

  ELEVEN

  Bull

  A second scream split the night air, this one younger, more shrill. But the harsh slap of skin on skin silenced the sound.

  I couldn’t let the two men kill each other before I got any information from them. Besides, I was starting to get so mad or hopeful at the possibility of Taylor being in the house that I couldn’t think straight. It was time to act. I clambered from my position in the shadows and withdrew my Taurus to hold behind my back.

  Climbing the steps, I chuckled without amusement at the sight of the two men rolling around on each other just inside the door on a floor littered with crumpled fast food wrappers and crushed beer and pop cans. “What’s going on, dickheads?”

  The Asian guy climbed off his cohort, his face twisted into over-confidence and smugness. “You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to, mutha-fucka, talkin’ like that to us.” He motioned from the rising white guy to me and nodding. “Let’s kick his ass. We can settle our shit later.”

  Blood trickling from his nose, the white guy didn’t vocalize anything, he just nodded and reached into his pocket.

  I showed my gun, walking into the door and stiff-arming them further inside the house. Slamming the door behind me, I rammed a round into the chamber and pointed it toward the Asian guy. Then I spoke to the white weasel-dick. “You’re the bitch here, huh?”

  Holding my back to the door, I took in the room while they stood frozen. Couches lined the room, set up like makeshift beds with stained sheets twisted and tucked into the flattened cushions. One held a young girl, younger than eighteen, her face turned toward the wall, legs spread wide. Nothing on but a small brand on her inner thigh and fluids I didn’t want to look closely at all over her skin.

  Three more girls – or women, I couldn’t tell – pushed back against the walls, hands over their mouths and eyes wide. The only thing I knew for sure was none of them were my niece. I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or worried about that fact.

  “Is there anyone else in the house?” I directed my question at the women but returned my hard gaze to the men.

  I waited. No one answered. Slight whimpers didn’t distract me from my goal. I was walking out of there with information and with only a door between me and the real world, nothing was getting in my way.

  Probably because of the nefarious activity in the house, the curtains didn’t appear to have ever been opened. Night probably reigned twenty-four hours a day in there.

  The men both shook their heads, watching me, but the oldest looking woman, which placed her at about eighteen, gave the smallest nod and glanced at the ceiling.

  I didn’t acknowledge her reply, but motioned the three women toward the occupied couch. “Don’t give me any problems, and you won’t get hurt, got it?”

  They moved quickly, nodding and crying into their hands as they sat almost on top of each other. It angered me that they most likely saw me as another rapist there to take advantage of them.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t get angrier, the Asian dick splayed his hands and spoke with a voice as oily as his friend’s hair. “Look, man, whatever the problem is, it’s nothing a little hash and pussy can’t fix. Take your pick, or
screw them all. No charge.” He smiled, revealing dark spaces between yellowed teeth.

  I jabbed with my left fist, knocking the little shit on his ass. He crashed into the wooden frame of the closest couch and lolled to the side. He didn’t move from the floor.

  Unable to hide my amazement, I blinked. “Wow. He dropped faster than a girl.” I looked at the other guy whose hands shook in the air in front of him. “You gonna piss yourself or something?”

  He shook his head, swallowing.

  Was I really that scary that a couple of street thugs didn’t have the balls to stand up to me? Or were they the perfect type of cowards? Those who had nothing to stand on when someone stood up to them? Either way, their type disgusted me.

  I stared him down for a moment, but movement over his shoulder caught my eye and I ducked.

  A shot rang out. The white guy cried out and clutched at his shoulder, falling toward me. The lack of skill in the shot irritated me. Who in their right mind shot their own guys?

  Pushing the slight man away from me, I held him steady as he moaned. Peeking from between his arm and his side, I whispered. “Shut up and you might live.”

  A heavily bearded man waved a gun from side to side as he entered the room from a small hallway between what looked like the kitchen and the large room I was in. Eyes red and wild, he shot another bullet into the wall beside the door.

  “Oh, hell. Seriously?” A stoned man trying to shoot me? I lifted my gun and aimed for his bicep and pulled the trigger. At the last possible moment, he lunged, angling his body across my shot and repositioning his chest into the target area.

  He didn’t make a sound as he fell, blood seeping from him like water from a one-holed sieve – slow and deliberate – onto the beige-tan-who-cares-about-the-color-of-the-carpet-I-just-shot-him floor.

  “Holy shit, you just shot him.” Still grabbing at his shoulder, the white guy whirled and crouched beside the Asian one. He stared at me, his mouth working but no words coming out.

  “He just shot you.” I stepped around the two I’d followed there and made my way to the bearded man. I toed his gun out of reach before kneeling to feel for a pulse. A sick twisting in my stomach warned I might vomit.