Kill Whitey

“I came to America to escape my father,” Sondra said, staring at her hands. “No passport. No visa. There were thirty other women with me. All like me. Young and afraid. Pretty. The men…they put us on ship, inside big cargo container. Keep us hidden from crew and captain. Two men were there to guard us. Twice a day they would let us out to eat. The sunshine…it felt good. I remember it. So very dark inside the box. A bucket for toilet. Very little food or water. So I would look forward to see the sunshine. We come out. Eat. Then they put us back in box till next day. This goes on for long time. Some girls get sick. Finally, we come to America and are let out of box. That is where I meet Whitey. He tells us he has paid for our transport. We owe him everything. We will work for him. If we refuse, he say the Organizatsiya will kill us and kill our families back home. I care not about my father, but I have brothers and sisters. So I do what Whitey says.”

I closed my eyes. It had all been true. Everything Jesse had told us—all true. The things she’d had to endure growing up, and then to come here and suffer an even worse fate, working in forced prostitution and dancing. My head throbbed.

“So why not go to the po-po?” Darryl asked.

Sondra looked confused. “What is po-po?”

“Yeah, you know. The police. The cops. Why not cut a deal, give them enough info to take Whitey and his whole crew down?”

“Do you not listening? Maybe I get rid of Whitey. Maybe he go to jail. But the Bratva are many. Hundred thousand strong. Sooner or later they kill me or my family. I go to police, immigration send me back home to Russia. There, I get killed quicker. Is no good. No one can help me. I must listen to Whitey. I obey. First I work in massage parlor and am hooker. Whitey say I am good at that and would be good at dancer. So I go to the Odessa and am both. I just do what Whitey say to do.”

“Until recently,” I said. “I’m right, aren’t I? He beat you up tonight. Smacked you around. And you tried to escape because of it. That’s why you were hiding. So what changed? Why is it suddenly worth the risk?”

Sondra raised her head and looked us in the eyes. Her eyes were wet.

“Because I am pregnant.”

Darryl and I spoke at the same time.

“Oh shit…”

“Da,” she sobbed. Tears rolled down her cheeks and spattered onto the table. “I don’t know who father is. Maybe customer. Maybe Otar or Evesi or Semion or other one of Whitey’s men. I don’t know. Maybe the police. Whitey make me sleep with them so they not raid the club.”

My anger swelled. Part of me wanted to drive back to the club and beat the shit out of Whitey, Otar, the cops, and everyone else that had ever ogled or used Sondra. But then I remembered that I was one of them. I’d stared at her, too. Every night at the club. Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Darryl spoke up, “you don’t look pregnant. Must not be far along.”

“Not too far yet, but far enough, no?” Sondra wiped her eyes. “Any pregnant is still pregnant, no matter how big is baby.”

Darryl nodded. “True that.”

“I tell Whitey tonight. Tell him I am pregnant. He get very angry. Asks how. I say I was careful but he doesn’t believe me. Whitey tells me we will get abortion. I tell him no. For the first time, I tell him no. It felt good. Then he hit me. And keep hitting me. He kicks. Say he will make me miscarry baby. Say he will make me eat miscarriage to teach me lesson.”

I gasped. “Jesus Christ.”

“You see? He is monster. So I run away and you find me. I am afraid he will be even madder now. Will want to kill me—and you, too. Both of you. And he will. Unless you kill him first.”

Darryl leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

“Well,” he sighed, turning to me, “I guess we better call off work this morning after all.”

nine