In this chapter, Jack continues to test Brittany's resolve and compliance, devising more hoops for her to jump through.
For those of you who remember, Lost in Space: Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
Trigger warning coming up. Rather graphic, caustic, and explosive racial language ensues, as one of the principal characters in this chapter throws around certain racial epitaphs, and makes Brittany do the same.
I debated long and hard with myself on whether to change what I had written and use language that was more benign (thus saving myself potential headaches, later), but the chapter reads better and more realistic as written. Therefore, I left it alone...and will probably kick myself for doing so.
**
For the next several weeks, the routine of exchanging money and sex continued without a hitch. However, a problem soon developed for Brittany.
Up until this time, she had plenty of nice things she could exchange for cash in order to pay Jack his weekly extortion. Unfortunately, the number of possessions she had that would fetch a good price from a pawnbroker, and not be easily missed by her husband, was dwindling. She only had a small diamond ring and the sapphire pendant left, and these items only got her a third of what she needed when she hocked them.
Now, she sat on the bed waiting for Jack's customary knock, hoping he would take less than usual—he wouldn't.
He looked at her sideways with furrowed brow when he felt the heft of the bag.
Seeing his look, Brittany beat him to the punch by saying, "I know. I'm a little short this week."
"A little? It feels like a lot short," looking into the bag, he added, "This looks like it's only a grand. You're two short. Where's the rest?"
"I don't have it right now."
"So? What am I supposed to do?"
Brittany was beginning to get anxious that Jack was being so obstinate, "Could you just give me a couple of more days..."
"Why? The deal was you give me three thousand at our Monday meetings. Well it's Monday. We're meeting. So where's my money?"
"Please! I don't have it yet. I'll have to go to my asshole father to get..."
"No! I told you before, you can't get the money from daddy. It sends up too many red flags. Don't you have something else to sell?"
"No," she whined, "I'm tapped out. Believe me."
"Bullshit. What about the Mercedes that's parked outside?"
Tears of frustration began to flow, as she said, "Goddamn it! Talk about red flags. I told you, Santos will know if I sell the car. He's already asking me where some of the other stuff I've hocked went. I can't keep putting him off with bullshit. Eventually, he's going to put two and two together. Just let me get it from my father. I'll have the rest for you tomorrow."
"There's something you're failing to see, Brit. What about next week, and the week after, where's the money going to come from then? Not from daddy."
"I'll get a job. I used to be a pretty good office manager before I got married."
"Come on, Brit. That was over nineteen years and one kid ago. Did they even have computers when you quit and got married? Even if you could get hired with your meager skills, I don't know any secretarial job that pays three grand a week." Jack pocketed what money she brought and headed to the door, saying as a final dismissal, "Well, it was fun while it lasted. Too bad..."
He barely got the words out before she was on her knees with her arms wrapped around her legs, just as she had done in her office that first time. As before, she eked out through loud sobs, "P-Please s-stay, I-I'll do a-anything you w-w-want."
It took her awhile, but Jack was waiting for this moment when she couldn't make the weekly extortion. Now the game would get very interesting for him, seeing how far she would go to keep him happy.
Chuckling, Jack roughly picked her up by her hair, sat her on the bed, and said, "That's an odd promise, considering you're already doing what I want. What else is there for you to give?"
Grasping at straws, Brittany answered, "I'll work for you. In your business, I mean. I can be your office manager. And, at night, I can...I can clean your place and cook..."
Jack let out a heavy sigh, while saying, "You're not worth three thousand dollars to me as a secretary or a maid."
She began to wail.
Jack sat back down at the small table, watching her intently as he thought about the situation presenting itself.
Every time, he's amazed how these situations eventually play out in the same way, no matter the wife. They always arrive at this point. With no serious way of paying off their debt, they no longer can forestall the inevitability that their adultery will be revealed to their husbands, and devolve into frenzied panic. A panic so extreme, in fact, they would barely blink an eye at what he's about to suggest. Like the others, he knew Brittany would accept the new terms, and like the other times before, it will still amaze him when she does.
He leaned forward and patted her arm in comfort as she continued to wail. Over the din of her sobs, he said, "Hush now, emerald-eyes. Remember, I said we could reopen the negotiations after a few weeks."
Brittany perked up at a possible reprieve from Santos' wrath and divorce court execution, "That's right, you did."
"But I don't see how it would be different. The only thing you have to negotiate with is that sweet pussy of yours, and I already own that. It's the money that's the problem." Jack paused for a while, as if he were in deep contemplation. Finally, he said, "However, what you said a few weeks ago about wanting it be more than 'whore incorporated' stuck with me, and it gave me an idea."
Brittany's anxiety meter just redlined, as she asked, "What kind of idea?"
"We could try a barter system, instead of dealing in hard cash."
Her anxiety meter just broke as the springs, gears, and wiring ricocheted off her heart. An empty pit developed deep in her guts. She asked, suspiciously, "What do you mean...barter system?"
"You can trade me for services instead of given me cash."
She looked at him, stunned and confused, "I just offered to work for you in your office and in your home..."
"I'm not talking about those kinds of services. Like lots of people, I'm not debt-free, Brit. I owe some people favors or money. Now, if I can finagle a deal with them, that is, to accept your service for my debt, you and I could then negotiate about how much your service would cost me."
"Wait a minute. You're talking about pimping me out."
"That's such an ugly term. I prefer romance matchmaking. Look, if you have another suggestion, I'm all ears."
She didn't say anything, but stared back at him in stunned silence, mouth ajar.
"Come on, Brit. Certainly, you've entertained the idea. Eventually, you knew it would come down to something like this. How else were you going to get me my money when you ran out of pretty things to hock?"
"I thought...you know...the sex."
"Get this straight and for the last time. I'm not here for the sex. I'm here for the money. That's it. End of story. No money, no deal, we're quits."
"But what about...you know...all the sex?"
Jack rolled his eyes before answering. "I accepted sexual favors in lieu of a reduced installment of payments. That was all, remember? You didn't have the hundred grand, so as a nice guy, I lowered myself to take small installments in return for sex. Now that you can't even make the reduced payments...well, it breaks our deal. Now, even though you've a great set of jugs and the sex with you is better than average, I'm certainly not going to accept payment of sex in exchange for a hundred grand. You have to be fucking nuts if you think I'm paying you for sex. However, and this is where the barter system comes in, there are tons of people in the world who will."
Jack let his voice trail off, letting her think on the matter for a moment. When she didn't answer right away, he pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.
Seeing what he was doing, she punched the disconnect button on his phone. Then clutching his hand and phone tightly to keep him from dialing again, asked, "What are you doing?"
"I owe a couple of guys a favor. I'm going to see if they want to meet you, instead." He looked at her hard as she stared back at him with wild-eyed panic. Finally, he said to her, matter-of-factly, "It's either this, or..."
Looking down at the floor in abject hopelessness, knowing it was either this or Santos finding out about her and Chris, she asked, "Are they, at least...you know...nice?"
Jack never understood why the women take the deal he offered. Why did they allow themselves to be passed around like two-bit whores, rather than just telling him to go fuck off and take the consequences? Jack thought what he proposed would be a bridge too far, but it never was with any of them. They all accepted their new role as bona fide whore, to one degree or another.
He could somewhat understand some of them. Those, having erred once, and who were still in good marriages with good husbands, wanting, above all else, to keep the husband ignorant and the marriage intact. He could understand their motivation in doing something like this. It's the others he couldn't understand, those married to shit-heels, shit-heels that drove them into the arms of another man in the first place. Why did they feel obligated to go along with the new deal? Is a shattered marriage really worse than being pimped out?
Moreover, what he didn't understand about the others went doubly so for Brittany. Now that she knew of her husband's nature, and what he truly was, why do anything to stay with him? Why not just see him finding out about the affair with Chris as a blessing, cut your losses, and use the inevitable divorce as an escape?
He finally answered her, "They're both good guys. I can vouch for them. They're ex-cops like me, doing bail bonds and bounty work."
"Shit, they don't know Santos, do they?" she asked, with real fear in her voice.
He didn't tell her that the main reason they were bail bondsmen was because of Santos, and just said, "Yes, but we won't tell them who you really are."
"W-What will I have to do?"
