Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  I sat in the visitor's section just taking in this beehive of activity. For most of these people it was just a day at the office. But I would have been completely lost. I didn't even notice that Kris was also in the room until she sent me a text.

  -Jessi's almost here.

  I brought my hand to my forehead and peered through my fingers at the door. After a few seconds, sure enough, it opened and in walked Jessi, followed by a stocky, powerfully built African-American man in what looked like a very expensive suit.

  He ushered her into the courtroom and directed her to sit in the first row of the gallery right behind the defendant's table. They'd cleaned her up nicely. She was wearing a simple navy blue suit, and had her hair in a ponytail. She’d gone back to her natural hair color, brown, without the violet streak, which seemed ironic since Kris was still sporting her showy blond locks. Gone was bad girl Jessi, replaced with a cute, fresh-faced kid who could have easily blended in on any college campus.

  Her head swiveled to the right and I followed her gaze to the side of the courtroom where another door opened and disgorged a half dozen men in shackles. While the courtroom itself was filled with a mix of men and women of various races, it was noticeable that all the men brought in were either black or Hispanic. A courtroom remains the place where racial divides are still most apparent in modern America.

  Jessi gave a small wave. A handsome black man gave her a quick nod. He had a shaved head, and the long, lanky build of the basketball player he'd been in his youth. But he also had the cold hard stare of a seasoned con.

  I texted back to Kris.

  -What's going on?

  -I'm not sure. But the DA is pissed. Said she'd talk to me after the hearing.

  It all moved very quickly. The clerk called Martin's case. He was led over to the defendant's table where he conferred quickly with his lawyer.

  DeMarcus gave Jessi a quick grin and mouthed, "Good girl."

  It was ostensibly a short hearing to address a defense request for reduction of bail.

  The prosecutor protested. She argued, "DeMarcus Martin is facing a mandatory 30 year sentence if convicted. He is known to have resources and is at high risk of flight."

  Anthony Brown, the defense attorney, countered that Martin had no resources. They'd all been seized by the state. "And further, given credible allegations of racially motivated entrapment in this case, Mr. Martin deserves the opportunity to try to post bond and remain at liberty to prepare his defense."

  The DA sighed. "Your honor, the allegations are far from credible..."

  The judge cut her off. "Yes, I know your views on this, but unfortunately given prior conduct of the Metropolitan Police Department, this court has no choice but to take into account the possibility. But we also agree with your concerns about the flight risk posed by the defendant. In light of that, we will grant the request for bail, and set the amount at two million dollars."

  I chuckled to myself. Successful drug dealer or not, coming up with two million dollars seemed likely to be an impossible task. But then I noticed the smiles at the defense table.

  I didn't have much time to consider it though. Martin was quickly led back into the holding area. And just as quickly his attorney took Jessi by the arm and led her from the courtroom.

  -Follow them. Kris texted.

  I was hoping they would split up quickly, so I'd have a chance to grab Jessi on her own. But instead, they stayed together, whispering urgently back and forth. I worried that they'd get into a waiting car and drive away. Brown handed his briefcase to an associate and led Jessi out of the courthouse. We were parked right around the corner, so there was a chance I could keep up with her in traffic, but I didn't have to worry about that because instead they set off on foot.

  I trailed them carefully, though I probably didn't need to since they never looked around to see if anyone was following them. They looped around the back of the courthouse and we came upon a row of storefronts for people down on their luck—low rent lawyers, pay day lenders, pawn shops, and several bail bondsmen. It was a reminder that the justice system sucked in people through the front door and spit them out the backdoor broken.

  They walked into a bondsman shop near the end of the block, Ramirez Brothers Bonds. I continued in the same direction, walking past the shop. Brown and Jessi were sitting in hard plastic chairs near the front of the shop. As I peered in, I saw two closed office doors. It seemed they were waiting for a meeting.

  I reached the end of the block and took a right, then ducked into the alley that ran behind the narrow row of shops. I wished I'd brought my gun with me, but hadn't since I knew we'd be searched going into the courthouse. Even still, I was curious to see if I could get a view into one of those offices.

  I reached the back of the bondsman’s shop. There was a dumpster outside, wedged against the wall, giving access to two small, high, barred windows. I pulled myself up onto the dumpster. The left window was painted over with black. But the right one was cracked open.

  I peer in and saw a corpulent Hispanic man in a pale yellow shirt sitting behind a desk, shifting through some papers. He stood suddenly and I ducked back, worried he might have heard me, but instead he walked to the door.

  "Get in," he said tersely.

  I peered back inside to see Jessi walking into the room alone. In her fresh-scrubbed, preppy attire, she looked completely out of place, especially next to Ramirez who looked even shabbier standing up. Though I was standing on a dumpster, he looked like he'd rolled in one. There wasn't any part of him that wasn't stained. His khakis had stains at his crotch, there were the remnants of some sort of salsa on his distended belly, and his armpits were a puke green color.

  She extended her hand. He just looked at it disdainfully. She sheepishly withdrew the offer.

  "Thank you for seeing me. I wanted to explain why you should write a bond for DeMarcus Martin."

  "I know why you're here."

  "So, I know it is a lot of money, but I know DeMac isn't going to run. He knows he can beat this."

  Ramirez laughed. "You don't think Tony Brown brought you around to talk, do you?"

  "I don't know..."

  "Shut up," he growled.

  He stepped up close.

  "So you're really Martin's girlfriend? Not just some whore he sent around?"

  She nodded.

  He laughed. "So, you got some of that jungle fever, girlie? Get some big black cock up inside of you and you think you're in love."

  She didn't reply.

  "Strip," he ordered.

  She sighed, look up at the ceiling. I ducked away from the window. When I risked peering inside again, she'd begun resignedly removing her clothes. She did it briskly, efficiently. As she slipped off her panties, he circled around her.

  "You did that too easily to not be a whore," he said accusingly.

  "I'm his girlfriend," she replied.

  "You're a piece of ass, that's all I know."

  He ran his hands over her, casually feeling her up. He pinched her nipples, squeezed her firm ass. He traced the outlines of her tattoos. He ran his hand down between her legs, brusquely shoved a finger inside her. She flinched.

  "What's the matter, slut? You don't like me? You only get wet for coon dick?"

  She didn't reply.

  He continued to molest her roughly.

  "You're a tight little whore. He hasn't worn you out yet."

  He pulled out his finger and smelled it. He smiled lewdly then ran his digit over her lips. He pressed it into her mouth.

  "I bet you love tasting yourself, don't you."

  She defiantly remained silent.

  He walked over to his desk and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  "You don't need those," she said softly.

  "You're going to like this," he said with a dark laugh that made it clear he meant just the opposite.

  She shuddered slightly, but didn't resist as he walked behind her and cuffed her hands behind her back. He walked back aroun
d and stood before her.

  "Now, we're gonna have some fun."

  Suddenly, he brought his right hand up and savagely slapped her across the face. It sounded like a gunshot. She gasped, crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  I stared in shock. He'd just smacked her without warning, without provocation. I was stunned. I had to stop it, couldn't just let him beat her like that. But before I could do anything, Jessi looked up at him with a mocking smirk.

  "You hit like a girl," she taunted.

  He roared with laughter. "Yeah, we're gonna have a lot of fun."

  He grabbed her ponytail, lifting her off the floor by her hair. She winced in pain, but didn't cry out. He walked her backward and shoved her against his desk. The edge dug into her ass, her arms flailed behind her searching for the surface to keep her from falling backwards. Her face was red. She was gasping for breath, nostrils flaring. Strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail were splattered against her sweaty forehead. She had an angry, feral look in her eyes. And despite all that, or maybe because of it, she was shockingly alluring.

  He unbuckled his thick belt, and slowly pulled in through the loops. He folded it in two, grabbed the buckle in his hand, and slapped her hard across the left breast with the heavy leather. She winced, letting out a hissing gasp. He whipped her right breast next.

  He forced her legs apart with his knee. He caressed her with the belt, running it over her cheeks, throat, down over her battered breasts, her flat belly. He placed the thick leather against her pussy. She knew what was coming next. Her body shuddered slightly.

  Then he grinned again and with a quick snap of his wrist brought down the strap hard against her sex. She grunted in pain, her eyes rolling momentarily back into her head. He whipped her pussy again.

  He dropped his pants, spit into his palm. He coated his prick in saliva and then stepped forward between her legs. He rubbed his cockhead up and down her slit. Just as Kris' pussy lips had molded themselves to Sal's cock, so did Jessi's to Ramirez's. He rammed his prick deep inside her.

  "Fuck yeah," he groaned.

  I’d seen enough. Too much. I jumped off the dumpster and paced in the alley. I thought of bursting into the shop, tearing Ramirez off her, beating him to a pulp. The fantasy only made me feel worse, a reminder of the shortcomings.

  My phone vibrated with an incoming text.

  -Well?

  I replied. -Still tracking her. You done?

  -Yeah

  -Bring the car around the back of the courthouse. Park near the pawnshop on the corner.

  _____

  I quickly walked back around to the street. I paused to look at the assortment of items in the pawnshop window, keeping my eyes on the bondsman's storefront. Sure enough, Brown and Jessi emerged a few minutes later. I was worried they might go somewhere else now, but Brown just gave Jessi a small pat on the shoulder and then turned and walked away. Apparently her sacrifice had closed the deal.

  Jessi stood there for a moment, seemingly still in shock. She glared angrily back over her shoulder into the shop. Then she turned toward the lawyer and squinted at him. It was like she was cataloguing her enemies. I realized that at some point she was likely to snap, and woe to whomever was the object of her ire at that moment. I heard a car pull behind me. I glanced back at Kris and nodded toward Jessi. She drove half way up the block so that her sister was now bracketed between us.

  Jessi turned and began to walk away from me. I closed the distance between us quickly.

  "Hey Jess," I said.

  She startled. "Oh, fuck it's you. I am not in the fucking mood right now."

  "You're coming with me."

  She laughed. "You're not really trying a street abduction are you?"

  But despite her dismissive tone, I could see her eyes darting left and right, looking for an escape route. And then suddenly she turned. I reached for her, but she eluded my grasp. She took a quick step and ran flush into Kris.

  "Not this time, you little cunt," Kris growled. "Get in the fucking car."

  It took a moment for Jessi to recognize her sister. But when she did she folded. She stopped struggling and nodded. They climbed in the back together and I got behind the wheel.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The drive back to the motel started in silence, neither Kris nor I knowing quite how to begin.

  Finally, Jessi broke the ice. "So, what happens now? You hand me over to Sal and he chains me to bed and sells my ass for a quarter a pop until he's paid off?"

  "You seemed perfectly willing for that to be my fate," Kris answered bitterly.

  "It was just for a couple of days."

  Kris snorted. "So whoring me out for a few days was a small price to pay, huh?"

  "Jesus, Kris. I had no idea he'd come after you. How the fuck could I have known?"

  "Even after you found out..." she stopped. "Screw it. We'll deal with that later. So, it's been a few days now. You ready to repay Sal?"

  "It took longer than I expected. But yeah. Well, I mean, I'll be able to tomorrow. But you're gonna need to let me go."

  "No way," I grumbled from the front seat.

  "What happens tomorrow?" Kris asked more productively.

  "Well, duh, DeMac gets out on bail. He owes me."

  "You used the drugs to raise bail money?" I asked.

  "Yeah, well, traded them to... never mind. The less you know the better."

  Kris replied, "Sorry, Jess, but you're gonna need to do better than that."

  "What difference does it make who I gave the shit to? All you need to know is that DeMac's gonna make bail."

  "So all of this, the stealing, the lying was all about getting your drug-dealer boyfriend out of jail?"

  "Like I say, he owes me."

  Kris snorted. "And what if he doesn't feel that way? Even if you can somehow pay off Sal, you've pissed off cops and a perjury rap hanging over you now."

  "What?" I asked.

  "Oh," Kris answered. "That was what this morning was about. Little miss brain surgeon signed an affidavit claiming that DeMarcus is just an innocent victim of entrapment. Claims she heard the arresting officers gloating about it."

  "So much for ever having the cops on our side," I sighed.

  Jessi laughed darkly. "Oh please, like the cops would ever have been on my side. A white stripper shacked up with a black drug dealer? I've never had the cops be on my side."

  "Who the fuck's fault is that Jess? You've been a train wreck since you were in middle school."

  "Oh yeah, 'cause you're perfect."

  "I'm not perfect. But perfect is a far cry from getting high, turning tricks."

  "You know what, Kris? Fuck you. You've always been a judgmental bitch."

  "Poor Jessi, always the victim. You don't want to be judged? Then don't make such bad choices."

  Jessi shook her head. "You're just like everyone else. So fucking smug, so fucking clueless. Yeah, I fucked for money. Funny about that. If you sell your ass for a hit of crack, you're worthless. Subhuman. Street trash. Sell it for a new TV, and you're lazy and greedy. Sell it to feed your child, and suddenly you're a tragic figure rather than evil. Desperate. Maybe even noble. And if you fuck to protect your kids, you're a fucking hero. A saint. That's you, right Kris? A fucking hero. And me, I'm just a lazy bitch. But what you did with Sal is no different from what I've done. We both got our twats stuffed. The only difference is what we got in return."

  "You're sick," Kris hissed.

  "Whatever. I did what I had to do."

  "Had to do? You didn't have to start fucking grown men when you were still a girl. You didn't have to move out at sixteen—"

  "No, I could have stayed there, with them," she said with a hiss.

  "What, Mom and Dad?"

  "Yeah, Mom, fucking sleeping a week at a time, bouncing off the fucking walls, repainting the whole house when she was up. Dad fucking drunk off his ass all the time."

  "You're exaggerating," Kris snapped.

  "They got
worse after you left. They just pulled it together when you'd come around. Perfect Kris, everyone always had to be on their perfect behavior when you came to visit. But when you weren't there it was an insane asylum."

  Kris sighed. "God, Jess, what is this, another one of your little fantasies?"

  "What do you know? You scooted. Abandoned me when I was nine."

  "What did you expect me to do? Take you with me to college?"

  "You could have done something."

  "I'm your sister, not your mother."

  "Yeah, our mother was crazy, and you were perfectly happy to run away and leave me behind."

  The car became silent, and when I looked into the back seat, Kris and Jessi had moved as far apart as possible, both staring silently out of their respective windows.

  I understood Kris' position. And yet, there was something about Jessi's anger that suddenly rang true. Their house had always seemed weird. Their dad was sullen, reclusive; their mom, in retrospect, had some form of bipolar disorder. It must have been a miserable existence, especially if they got worse over time.

  Kris, of course, never knew anything different, although even she had basically been adopted into my family early on. But Jessi... When Kris left home, she'd lost her big sister, her surrogate mother. She looked for love in the wrong places. Kris had found me. Nerdy, stable me. Jessi had found trouble and it had continued to follow her for the rest of her life.

  _____

  We got to the motel and proceeded to the room. Once inside, Jessi locked herself in the bathroom.

  "Are you going to be okay?" I asked Kris.

  She shook her head. "Oh God Daniel. Somehow, I thought that if we found Jessi, all of this... all of this would just clear up. Now it's like we need to broker some sort of deal between a couple of drug dealers."

  "You think this DeMarcus guy is going to come through?"

  "Of course not. This is just part of Jessi's long line of bad decisions in regard to men."