Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  _____

  The second address was for a small garden apartment in a dicier part of town. I had the apartment number this time, but since it wasn't visible from the street, I had to scope it out on foot. I put the gun in my waistband as a precaution, hidden under my shirt.

  It was the middle of the day, but I still didn't feel safe. I couldn't imagine how a pretty young girl like Jessi could have lived here, especially when she happened to be out and coming home at night. But then again, Jessi was tougher than I had ever realized.

  The problem was that I'd always seen Jessi as just a more troubled, less ambitious, version of Kris. They were sisters, after all. As a result, I had always assumed that at some point she'd grow up, come around. But I could tell now that was wrong. I reminded myself not to underestimate her again.

  The courtyard was overgrown. It hadn't been a "garden" in many years. Even though it was midday, it was oddly deserted; only the sounds of TVs blaring from inside various apartments made the place seem at all inhabited.

  Her apartment had been 2C. I climbed up a set of cement stairs with rusting handrails and walked down the row of apartments, trying as casually as possible to peer inside those with open windows. 2C was shut up tight, curtains drawn up against the windows, no sound from within. In a weird way, that struck me as promising. It felt like the kind of place where an on-the-run stripper trying to broker a drug deal might hide.

  I continued down the row to the stairs at the other end and went back to the ground level. I followed the perimeter of the building until I came to an alley. I walked down the alley, counting windows until I got to 2C. I looked up. The window looked rusted shut, and anyway it was a good twenty-foot drop to the street. If I knocked on the door, there would be no way for her to escape out the back.

  I continued down the alley, planning to circle the building completely, both to get a lay of the land and try to spot her car.

  "Hey man," a guy called out from behind me.

  I looked back to see a slender, middle aged, black man in dirty fatigues, limping toward me. He had one hand held out in front of him, the other behind his back. It felt like a replay of the night after the theater.

  "You dropped something, you dropped something," he called out.

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I scanned the area in front of me before I turned to face me.

  "I didn't drop anything. Leave me alone."

  "Naw, man, you dropped it, you dropped it. I saw it."

  He was approaching closer and closer. Shit, I thought to myself. I reached under my shirt and pulled out the gun, holding it by my leg, which was shaking nervously. A few more steps and I would raise it, but I didn't need to. He'd recognized it right away and frozen.

  His expression changed from fake concern to cold calculation.

  "Whatchu carrying on you that you need a piece?"

  "Just myself, buddy. Now leave me alone."

  I could see him reading me. He was a creature of the street. He could tell I didn't belong, could tell handling a weapon was a new thing, could tell I was scared, close to panic. He was calculating whether it was worth the risk to rush me. I held his gaze, and I guess he saw enough desperation in my eyes that he decided to back away.

  "Alright man, alright, you just put that thing away before you get yo'self hurt."

  "Thanks. Now run along," I said with as much bravado as I could muster.

  He turned and left, disappearing into another alley as quickly as he'd appeared.

  I knew I was running out of time. I'd been marked, and it was only a matter of time until some other scavenger, maybe one better armed or more reckless, came around to give me a hard time.

  I went back up to 2C and knocked loudly, each knock seeming to echo through the passageway. I could hear residents stirring behind closed doors. But 2C remained resolutely still. I knocked again and heard a curse from inside. It didn't sound like Jessi, but who knew what she'd been up to these last twenty-four hours. I knocked one more time, assessing the door, wondering if I could force my way in.

  Just then a face appeared at the window, sneaking a glimpse at me through the heavy curtains. It was an older black woman.

  "What you want?" she called through the glass.

  "I just want to talk."

  "Go away," she hissed.

  I knocked on the door again.

  Finally she cracked it open, keeping the security chain in place.

  "I got mace," she threatened.

  "Okay, okay, relax. Just want to ask about the previous tenant."

  "What do you care?"

  "She's my cousin," I said, recycling that story.

  She laughed. "Your cousin is a ‘ho."

  I couldn't contain a grin. "She might be. Has she been around recently?"

  "If she was, I'd be kicking her behind. Johns banging on my door at all hours, looking for Staaarh. Six months after she moved out they still coming around. And then come winter, the whole bedroom starts stinking. I find she's got a stash of used rubbers piled behind the heater. You tell her to come back around, 'cause Miss Marie got an ass-whooping for her."

  "Okay, if I find her, I'll let her know."

  "You're a nice boy. She's not really your cousin, is she?"

  "Nope," I said as I turned away. My sister-in-law, I thought to myself. I wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

  _____

  The final address was the most interesting, an expensive high rise in Crystal Heights. It was quite a step up from 2C. I had an apartment number, 1405, but one look at the entrance let me know I wasn't going to be getting upstairs without a keycard or something.

  I parked and walked to a nearby Starbucks, pondering the situation. The obvious solution was to try to follow someone in, but the risk of getting caught was too high. Unlike the group house or 2C, no one here would hesitate to call the cops if they got suspicious.

  I was hungry, so I went back up to the counter and picked up a carrot cake, and when I did, I noticed a magazine rack with those free, "apartment for rent," brochures. I didn't quite know what I was looking for as I looked up Jessi's high rise. But then I saw it and everything fell together. "For rent, by owner."

  I called the number and introduced myself as a potential renter just in the area for a few more hours. Would they be willing to show me the place? Yes, of course, they were leaving work shortly anyway. I glanced at my watch. It was a little after 5:00 pm. We agreed to meet at six at the entrance.

  I went the drug store down the street and picked up a razor and shaving cream, some deodorant, and Visine, then went back to Starbucks where I shaved and freshened up in the bathroom. After washing off and drying my face, I looked in the mirror. I looked almost presentable. Or at least, as presentable as possible for a man with five hours of drunken sleep in the last two days.

  I left the gun in the car and went to the building. The owner was a slender, older woman, probably in her early 60s with a bob of perfectly coiffed silver hair. She introduced herself as Leslie. I could tell she was nervous about inviting a strange man into her home, and I did my best to put her at ease with a big smile and a gentle handshake.

  "My husband will be home any minute," she offered.

  "Great," I replied brightly. "He can give me a man's perspective when he arrives."

  My eagerness to meet him seemed to put her at ease.

  She keyed us through the doorway and upstairs, chattering on about the amenities, the location, and the great restaurant choices nearby. I did my best to keep up my end of what felt like insipid chitchat. I was relieved to see that the elevators only needed a key fob to call them in the lobby. If I could find a way to ditch her, I'd be free to roam the building.

  She showed me the apartment. It was actually lovely, although the asking rent was twice our mortgage for a one-bedroom with a den. I did my best to feign interest and ability to pay, nodded cheerfully when she mentioned needing to put down three month’s rents up front.

  "So, what do
you think?"

  "Oh, it's great,” I enthused. “Perfect. I just need to talk to my wife about it."

  She smiled. "Oh wonderful. I am sure you two will love it here until you decide to have kids."

  I laughed. "Not any time soon, we're having too much fun."

  She liked that. A happy couple in her apartment.

  "Don't wait too long," she replied.

  I laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure Kris already has it all planned out."

  "Okay, well, if that's all, I'll show you out."

  "Oh, you don't need to," I offered.

  "It's not a problem."

  It is for me. I forced myself to keep a neutral smile on my face. She led me toward the door. I was running out of time. And then I saw it, a flower vase on the sideboard by the door. I turned toward her, asked about window cleaning, and marched right into the sideboard. The vase shattered on the floor with a satisfying crash.

  "Oh my, I'm so sorry."

  She gave me a stricken look as she contemplated the mess of broken glass, water, and flowers on the floor.

  "It's okay dear. It'll clean right up."

  I looked at my watch. "I'm running late. I'm so sorry. Can I offer to replace the vase?"

  She shook her head. "No, it's nothing."

  "I'll show myself out. Again, please accept my apologies."

  She nodded and I slipped out the door. I hurried to the elevator. She'd clearly been reluctant to let me show myself out, and I could imagine her hurrying out of her apartment to make sure I actually left. It felt like an eternity. The elevator seemed to stop at every floor before reaching me.

  From down the hall, I heard a door open, and heard her voice. "Hold on, dear, I'll show you out."

  The elevator door dinged open. I stepped in quickly, hit the 14 button and then pounded on the close door button over and over even though I knew it did nothing.

  "Hold on, hold on, I have to show you ou..." her words mercifully cut off by the closing of the elevator door.

  I knew I only had a few minutes. When the elevator opened at 14, I ducked out quickly and turn toward 1405. It was the third apartment on the left, and after two steps I saw it. The door sealed with a border of yellow crime scene tape. I sighed.

  It all made sense. This was where Jessi had lived right before coming to us. Where her boyfriend had been busted for dealing. The case was so recent that the apartment was still sealed.

  I sighed. It all made sense. But it also meant that I still didn't have a solid lead on Jessi.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I stopped for a drink in a bar. It was almost eight, and the last of the happy hour crowd was drifting away, setting up a quiet mid-week evening shift for the remaining staff. I took a booth in the back, out of the way. I ordered an expensive scotch and nursed it. After last night, I didn't have much of an appetite for booze, and anyway I wanted to stay as sharp as possible.

  I had learned a lot about Jessi, or Star, whatever. Kris had been so scandalized that her sister was a stripper, but even that had been a huge smokescreen. Stripper conjured the notion of a bad girl, certainly, but also conveyed the image of a young woman flashing her boobs for tips. That wasn't Jessi.

  She'd been a full-out whore, at least some of the time, and not always making $7k a night in a suite at the Four Seasons. Somehow she'd made the hard leap from 2C to 1405, and she didn't like the idea of giving that up. The lure of easy money by stealing Sal's coke was just too much for her given what she'd gone through. I hated myself for feeling any empathy for her. She'd caused us nothing but suffering, but the thought of her in that nasty garden apartment, turning tricks and spitefully stashing used condoms behind the radiator reminded me that she'd suffered too.

  I finished the scotch and ordered a second. Understanding Jessi was one thing. Finding her was another. And now I'd wasted yet another day and was still no closer to my goal of freeing Kris.

  My phone sounded. Not the normal ringtone for a call, but rather the chime for a Facetime request. I felt a surge of excitement. Only Kris ever called me on Facetime. Had they let her go? Had she escaped? I eagerly accept the call.

  I immediately deflated when I saw Sal's face leering at me.

  "Hey, numb nuts, so you got something for me?"

  The “numb nuts” bit was really getting on my nerves. Bullshit tough guy act. Easy to do with hired muscle and a gun.

  "I'm sick of this shit. Just let her go," I replied with what I hoped was the sort of world-weariness that would convince him not to mess with me. It was all I had left.

  He just chuckled. "I have good news for you."

  I didn't bite, didn't give him the satisfaction of asking what.

  I could tell that annoyed him, but that was just a small, meaningless victory. He held all the cards.

  He plowed ahead. "Krissy won the BJ contest. Four to three, though it was a tough call. A couple of us needed more than one demonstration to be sure. Your wife is very accommodating."

  "That's what turns you on, you sick fuck? Forcing yourself on an innocent woman?"

  He laughed darkly. "Sounds like you need a little more motivation. So I'm gonna mute you now and just let you watch."

  He flipped the phone around, and after a moment, the camera refocused on Kris, sitting on the edge of a king size bed, completely nude.

  "She's lovely, isn't she?" he narrated. "Those beautiful, big titties. If it were up to me, I'd keep her naked all the time. And since it is up to me, that's what I've been doing.”

  I was tempted to just hang up, to deny the pleasure of humiliating me. But I couldn't do it. I wanted to see Kris for as long as I could, even if it would ultimately tear me apart. In a small way, by bearing witness, I was sharing in her ordeal. At the very least, she'd know I hadn't abandoned her, would never abandon her.

  He approached her slowly.

  "Wave for the camera baby. Show hubby that you're pleased to see him."

  She looked at the phone and our eyes seemed to meet. She gave me a sad, thin, smile, and a small wave. She looked about as well as could be expected. She'd obviously been fed, given a chance to sleep, shower.

  He stepped up close, the camera trained down on her. He filmed himself as he casually flicked the hair out of her eyes, brushed her cheek, and then reached down to cup her full breast in his palm. He zoomed in on his thumb, sliding back and forth across her nipple, which stiffened at his touch. He then did the same to her other breast.

  "Lie back baby," he said. She hesitated for just a second. "Do it," he ordered, more firmly now.

  She obeyed. She'd obviously made the decision to comply with his demands, to be accommodating rather than fight back.

  "She's got a beautiful pussy," he commented. "Especially now that we got rid of that 70s muff."

  The camera drifted down between her legs, centering now on her mons pubis, that I was seeing bare for the first time, her vulva a gracefully arched mound, with a narrow valley within.

  "I shaved her myself," he added proudly.

  He focused in closer now, so that my entire screen was now filled with her sex, essentially life size, transmitted to me in high definition thanks to the wonders of modern technology. It was, perhaps not so shockingly, the clearest look I'd ever had at my wife's pussy. And he was right. It was beautiful.

  I jolted backward in surprise as his thumb suddenly entered the frame. The resolution was good enough that I could see it coated with his spit. He gently rubbed her slit up and down, up and down, up and down, slowly opening her up. He pressed his thumb inside her and she moaned despite herself.

  He chuckled softly. Then he slowly churned his digit inside her, in and out. He slid his thumb back up her slit and then gently rubbed her clit in small circles. Again, a soft moan escaped her lips.

  He zoomed back out and ran the camera over her naked body. First he filmed down one shapely leg, and then back up the other. He paused again at her pussy, the camera focusing back in as he turned his palm upward and thrust two fingers deep into
her snatch, twisting them back and forth, the microphone picking up a soft squishing sound.

  He withdrew his fingers and used them to trace over her flat belly, through the valley between her breasts, across the throat. He pressed them deep into her mouth. She closed her lips on his digits and he pumped them slowly inside her.

  Again the camera followed his hand as he returned to her pussy. This time, he thrust his two fingers inside her roughly. She gasped softly as he pumped them into her over and over.

  He stood back up, the image bouncing around now, catching a glimpse of her naked body, of the headboard above the bed, of the bureau beside the bed. Then the image steadied and he again focused on her pussy, the lips now spread enough to expose the moist pink within.

  His cock entered the frame, fat and ugly, looking like the anteater's snout. He pressed his fat tool against her snatch, rubbing it up and down between her labia.

  "She says you're the only guy who's ever fucked her. You're gonna get to watch her take her first new dick," he taunted.

  He seemed to enjoy teasing her, tormenting me, taking his time, running just the tip of his cock up and down her slit.

  "Ask for it, baby," he grumbled seductively.

  Her answer was prompt, unambiguous. "Never."

  "You know you want it."

  "No," she hissed.

  "Your cunt wants it."

  Her anatomy seemed to back him up. Her labia seemed to open, shaping themselves to his prick, engulfing the head. Her pussy looking like it wanted to swallow him up.

  He shifted slightly upward, bringing his cock into a more perpendicular alignment. He thrust gently and his cockhead disappeared inside her, her pussy spreading wide to accommodate him. She gasped loudly, a reminder of how big he was, much thicker than his two fingers. Much bigger than my own cock.

  He pumped himself into her, deeper and deeper, each new penetration eliciting a new vocal confirmation, a gasp, a moan, a grunt, a groan. Her labia stretched obscenely around his fat cock, clinging to his shaft as he pulled out. He hammered into her again, hard, the whole of his prick now inside her, making her entire body shudder as he penetrated her fully.