Whatever It Takes

by Ben Boswell

  "What the fuck?" DeMac suddenly shouted.

  I shook the pillow off my face just in time to see Damon, blood still running down his face, lifting DeMac off the ground. DeMac was flailing around wildly, trying to bring his gun hand around. Damon seized his wrist and shook the weapon loose.

  Two quick punches to the kidneys and DeMac dropped incapacitated.

  "How bad are you hurt?" Damon asked.

  "I have some busted ribs I think," I groaned. Even taking small breaths was excruciating.

  He pulled Jessi off me, laid her on the bed.

  I immediately felt better.

  "Can you stand?" He asked.

  I grabbed his outstretched hand and he lifted me to my feet.

  "Yeah," I replied clutching at my side.

  "Watch him," he said, pointing at DeMac who was still rolling around in agony.

  Damon returned shortly with some wet towels. He pressed one against Jessi's forehead as she slowly stirred. With the other he mopped the blood from his face and put pressure on his own head gash.

  DeMac shook his head. Tried to press himself off the ground. Damon ended that with a quick, brutal forearm to his face.

  "We need to get out of here, now!" Damon ordered. "Grab her. I'll take him."

  Jessi was coming around. I lifted her to her feet. She wrapped her arm around my neck, mine was around her waist. We stumbled toward the door. Both of us froze. An entire wall was splattered with blood. Tyrell's body was slumped below, his face almost completely obliterated.

  "Oh Jesus," I sighed.

  "Go, go," Damon urged.

  Jessi and I hobbled along. Damon followed with DeMac over his shoulder. Going down the stairs was agony. The sound of sirens in the distance kept us going though. We went through the side door and stepped right into our car parked right outside.

  _____

  I drove. Jessi was in the passenger seat, staring dazedly out the window. Damon was in the back with DeMac. We’d flex tied him and Damon was sitting on his chest to keep him still. We crossed out of Harborside just as a line of cop cars drove in.

  We needed to go to the hospital. All of us had been banged up pretty good. But first we had to get rid of our guest.

  "You sure that's not gonna kill him?" I asked, looking back at DeMac straining under Damon’s weigh.

  Damon shrugged. "It shouldn't."

  I drove a little faster. I wanted to get rid of him before we found out for sure. On the way, Jessi emailed the pictures we'd taken of DeMac at the pier to Ramirez. An email back told us to bring him in.

  Driving past the courthouse, with cops and prosecutors all over the place was paranoia inducing. But no one stopped us as we turned the corner and pulled out to the bondsman’s shop.

  Damon manhandled DeMac out onto the sideway and shoved him toward the front door. As they ducked inside, DeMac looked back at us in the car with such a murderous look that I doubted prison would stay his vengeance. His brother was dead. We'd caused it. He'd never forgive, never forget.

  A few minutes later, Damon emerged, stuffing a thick envelope into his pocket. He opened the door to the car, and as he did, I heard a loud pop coming from the pawnshop. Damon went wide-eyed.

  "Go, go," he hissed.

  I pressed down on the gas.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A doc-in-the-box stitched up Damon. He had a minor concussion as well. I went to the local emergency room where they diagnosed two broken ribs. There was nothing they could do for me other than prescribe painkillers. Jessi ended up with just a bruise across the cheek.

  We sat in the motel room, too dejected to talk. Everything had gone horribly wrong. We'd almost gotten killed. We'd left a dead body in a hotel room. We should probably have made a run for it, but what was the point? It was only a matter of time until the cops tracked us down.

  I flipped on the local news. It was the lead story. "Drug War!" screamed the chyron.

  "Police today arrested Robert 'Boogs' Powell, of Cederville, on suspicion of the double murder of drug lords DeMarcus and Tyrell Martin. Police suspect that Powell may have sought to take advantage of DeMarcus Martin's recent arrest to bolster his own position in the drug gang. Sources close to the investigation believe Powell had accomplices, likely other members of the Martin drug ring.

  "Police responding to reports of gunfire at the Sheraton Harborside discovered Powell unconscious in a room with Tyrell Martin's body. There was evidence of a struggle that culminated in Martin's demise. DeMarcus' body was later found in a dumpster in Iron City. He had been shot in the back of the head at close range."

  Drug war? Gang accomplices?

  "What just happened?" I asked.

  Damon shook his head. "Well, Boogs did shoot Tyrell. And it is a hotel room. There has got to be physical evidence of hundreds of people in there. Unless they have a good reason to think someone else was involved, I doubt they'll press too hard."

  "What about DeMac?"

  "Ramirez was probably watching the news. He put two and two together. Figured that if DeMarcus was involved in the shooting he'd definitely skip town if he had the chance. They decided to safeguard their bond by offing him."

  "But we know he was alive when he got there," I said shakily. "We're witnesses."

  "Yeah, and Ramirez knows we were in Harborside. I'm guessing he figures we aren't likely to talk. We'd take the 10 Gs in cash and forget about it."

  "This is so fucked up."

  "Yeah it is," echoed Damon. He walked toward the bedroom. Over his shoulder he muttered, "I need to sleep. Don't wake me."

  I turned toward Jessi, winced in pain as my torso twisted. She was sitting beside me, mute. She hadn't said a word since we'd left the bondsman's shop.

  I pulled my container of Codeine from my pocket and popped a capsule, washed down with beer.

  "You want some?" I asked her.

  She nodded. I shook out two capsules. She swallowed them dry.

  "You okay?"

  She looked at me. "Yes," she answered, shaking her head.

  I chuckled mordantly.

  "Or not."

  "It's okay to feel sad you know."

  "The fucker tried to kill me. Twice. He traded my ass for a bail bond. I should hate the motherfucker. But I keep thinking of him, feeling that gun barrel on the back of his head just before he bought it. Jesus."

  "He was an asshole," I replied. "But also probably the first man who ever even seemed to care about you, right?"

  She looked at me silently. Her eyes slowly glazing over. A tear ran down her cheek.

  "You saved my life," she said softly.

  I shrugged. "I can't say I planned it. If I'd thought about what was happening, I would probably have run."

  "I didn't even mean in the hotel room. I meant you and Kris..." she trailed off.

  "Naw. You didn't need us. You're tougher than you realize."

  She shook her head again. "No. I'm much softer than I ever thought."

  I shrugged. "Ah, who the fuck knows what we are. Who cares?"

  She didn't reply. Instead, she gently pressed herself against me. I wrapped my arm around her. I felt her body soften, mold itself to mine. She felt so delicate, so breakable.

  _____

  I didn't wake until early morning. Every inch of me ached. My ribs throbbed. My arm was asleep under Jessi's head. My neck was stiff.

  I pushed her off me gently. She curled up on the sofa like a cat and went back to sleep. I stood, popped another Codeine and gingerly woke my arms and stretched out my sore limbs.

  A wave of panic washed over me. It had been over thirty hours since I'd heard from Kris. I checked my phone. Out of juice. Fucking iPhones.

  I plugged it in and a moment later it buzzed with a voice mail notification. It was from Kris, at 4:33am. She was brief, but oddly excited.

  "I got it and more. You won't believe what I had to do get it. But check email. Once upload is done, come get me."

  I checked my email. Nothing. What was she talki
ng about? Was I supposed to go get her? Both Jessi and Damon were still racked out. I decided not to wake them quite yet. Instead I went out and picked up the usual coffee and doughnuts.

  "Whoa, dude, rough night?" asked the clerk. He was young guy, had obviously worked the overnight. He had tats peeking out from under his shirt, combat boots.

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I had deep circles under my eyes, a massive bruise on my forehead.

  "You have no fucking idea."

  He nodded. "Have a bear claw on the house," he said, tossing the extra pastry into my bag.

  "Thanks man," I said, surprised at the implication of kinship.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jessi and Damon were up when I returned, both of them looking as haggard as I felt. We ate in near silence, the TV providing background noise. There was no more news about the double killing. In twelve hours it had already dropped off the radar. No one cared about the death of a couple of drug dealers.

  I checked email obsessively. I hadn't mentioned the voice mail to Jessi and Damon. I didn't know what it meant, didn't want to speculate about it until I knew more.

  And then mid-morning I logged on and received a notification from Google: "User KrisTaylor82 has shared a file with you."

  I clicked on it. It was a video. It opened with a close up of Jessi. She was even more slender. Her face almost gaunt. I didn't need to see more. I stopped it.

  I turned to Jessi and Damon. "It's over guys. Let's get Kris."

  Jessi turned to me.

  "What happened," she asked apprehensively. "What did you see?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing. I don't need to watch it."

  "Okay," she replied.

  Damon gave me a quick nod of thanks.

  "Let's go," I repeated.

  They followed me out. We got into the car and drove up to Forest Glen.

  _____

  I knocked on the door. Three firm raps. Pause. Another three.

  Jerry answered the door in boxers, a white tee shirt, and a shoulder holster.

  "Nice look," I snarked. "Let us in."

  He hesitated.

  "Your boss will want to see us. Move over."

  “Good timing,” he said with a leer, “wifey is putting on a show.”

  I pushed past him. Damon and Jessi followed.

  We surged into the living room. Even after everything I’d seen and done, I gasped at the depravity on display.

  On the TV was a high def close up of Kris sucking on Sal’s fat tool. And there on the sofa was my wife servicing three men at the same time. I recognized them from the bachelor party. She was bouncing up and down on the fat kid with the Rolex, while the frat boy was enjoying her mouth. Sal’s kid, Vinny, had the place of honor, standing behind her, ramming his cock into her ass over and over.

  With her mouth full of cock, Kris was limited to grunts and gasps, but her body told the story. Glistening with sweat, she was the enthusiastic center of the triangle, responsive and eager, she thrust back against each invading prick, determined as it seemed to make each man pop as quickly as possible.

  Sal was moving around them, filming on an iPad.

  “That’s it, fuck that whore,” he growled at the younger men. “She can take it, she can take anything.”

  As he circled them, he looked up and saw us. He looked at me first, glanced apprehensively at Damon, then fixed on Jessi.

  "Star, baby, looks like I found a bigger slut than you. But don’t worry, I have big plans for you too."

  At the sound of his voice, the rutting foursome looked over at us. Vinny retreated at the sight of Damon’s menacing glare. Kris disentangled herself, though I noticed she gave the fat kid one last roll of her hips before lifting off him. She approached me looking a little sheepish.

  I gave her a smile and took her hand.

  “What do you think you’re doing, whore? We haven’t even started with you today,” Sal said. His bravado seemed forced.

  "Enough Sal. I'm leaving with my wife," I replied.

  "You think so?" He laughed. He looked over at Jerry who had drawn his gun.

  "Yeah. It's over."

  He hesitated.

  "Not until I say it is," he replied, though I noticed a hint of apprehension in his voice.

  I turned toward Jerry. "Put that fucking gun away. Pour us some drinks. Your boss and I need to talk."

  Jerry looked over at Sal. Sal looked from me to Jessi to Damon. He looked at Kris standing there defiant, unbowed. He seemed to deflate. It was over.

  _____

  We sat in his living room, Kris now covered in a robe of her own. I debated letting her drop the hammer, but decided I wanted to do it myself.

  "You know what they do to kiddie diddlers in prison," I asked.

  Sal bristled at the accusation. "I don't fuck kids."

  "No, just underage hookers. You film them too."

  He glanced over at Jessi. She flipped him the bird.

  "Her word against mine. No one is gonna believe a coked up whore."

  I saw Damon surge upward. Jerry raised his weapon. I held out my hand. It wasn't worth it. Damon got the message. He sat back down.

  "They don't have to. We have video."

  "You... what?" Sal stammered. He turned toward Kris.

  She shrugged, a grin on her face. "You probably shouldn't have left me alone, logged in on your computer."

  His face dropped.

  "So here is how it is going to go," I continued. "We're going to leave now, and you're never going to bother any of us again. And you had better hope nothing happens to Kris and me, because if it does, those videos go right to the district attorney."

  "Fuck you," he snarled. "You owe me. And your whore wife and her whore sister are going to keep working it off until I say I say when."

  I shook my head. "No. We're not negotiating. I'm just telling you how it is. It’s over. We go our separate ways now. You go back to selling coke and whatever else you do. We go back to our lives. Just write it off as a bad couple of weeks of business."

  He looked at the four of us, then at Jerry. I could see him trying to figure a way out. But anything would be cutting off his nose to spite his face. I was pretty confident that he was too much of a capitalist to do that.

  He laughed and turned toward Kris. "You're the most expensive piece of ass I've ever had."

  Then he faced me. "We turned her out, smart guy. You know that, right? All of us. Her cunt. Her ass. Her mouth. Next time you kiss her, think about how many loads of come she swallowed. Live with that."

  I shrugged. "Then I guess you got your money's worth."

  "Get out of here," he snapped.

  _____

  As we drove back to the motel, we told Kris the story about the shootout at Harborside.

  "Did you really launch yourself at an armed man?" Kris asked.

  "He sure did," Jessi interjected. "You should have seen him."

  I shrugged. "I wasn't really thinking. It just happened."

  I thought back to that night after the theater. I know Kris was doing the same. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way it was. I felt like a wholly different person now, and from the way she was looking at me, I knew Kris was seeing me in a new light as well. It made me uncomfortable. I changed the subject.

  "How did you hack his computer?" I asked.

  "I didn't," she replied.

  "So..."

  "It's a little tawdry," she replied, but her grin made it clear she wanted to tell the story.

  I laughed. More tawdry than walking in on her getting triple teamed?

  "I presume you induced him into giving you his password?"

  "Not quite. I asked him if I could see some of the videos he took of me. And when he showed me, I told him they turned me on so much that I couldn't control myself. So we watched some of them, um, together. And when he was done, I got him ready, and we watched another. Then a third time. And at the end of that, I told him I wanted even more. So he went to rest
for a couple of minutes, while I kept watching and, you know, playing with myself. When he started snoring, I started uploading files."

  "God, Sal’s right. You have turned into quite a whore, sis," Jessi said with a laugh.

  "I have a long way to go to catch up to you."

  "It's not a competition," I offered.

  "I'd have to step up my game to keep up," Jessi teased.

  It was weird. We were all more than a little giddy. Excitement, lack of sleep, a feeling that we'd gotten away with something. I should have been devastated to hear about how my wife had fucked a houseful of men into submission. Instead, I was amused, proud, maybe even a little turned on.

  I pictured her sitting in Sal's lap, riding his big cock, her boobs bouncing in his face as they watched dirty videos on his computer. It was a strangely sexy image, made even hotter by the realization that she was playing him, had played him perfectly.

  "There's more," Kris said suddenly. "I've been a bad girl."

  "We already know that," I replied.

  "No. It's just... I didn't just upload videos while I was on his computer."

  "Oh?"

  "Well, he had his bank bookmarked. So I decided to check it out. I guess he didn't think about it. But he had his online banking password saved. And well, I made a little transfer."

  "You didn't," I replied.

  "I did."

  "How much?"

  "Ninety-seven thousand dollars. I left him a grand in his checking account. I didn't want him to get charged any fees."

  I looked at Kris, then back at Damon and Jessi who were both gaping at Kris incredulously.

  Kris shrugged. "Well, he did say I was the most expensive piece of ass he'd ever had."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  On the way back to the motel, we stopped by the market and picked up some bottles of cheap champagne and a bucket of chicken wings, a redneck celebration feast.

  Back in the room, we put on some music, got drunk. The girls got up and starting dancing. There was lots of laughing, silliness. They pulled Damon into the mix, the two sisters grinding on him lewdly. My cracked ribs kept me on the sideline, but it was fun watching them. I don't think I'd ever seen Kris and Jessi so playful with each other.