Len Levinson - Without Mercy

Kowalchuk walked beside her, the knife hidden beneath his denim jacket, feeling a tremendous surge of power and confidence. He’d let her push him around for years, while this was all he’d had to do.

They returned to her floor and she took her ring of keys out of her pocketbook. Her hands trembling, she selected the two that opened her door, inserting them in the locks and twisting. She looked up at him. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you Frank?” she asked in a quavering voice.

“Not if you do what I say.” She opened the door and they entered her spick-and-span kitchen. It smelled fresh, and all the fixtures were gleaming. For Kowalchuk, it brought back memories of the times she used to let him inside her apartment. He used to love to come here, even though she’d been so mean to him. And it was here that she’d brought that sanitation worker to fuck and suck, instead of him.

He bolted the door behind them and she looked at his knife, terror in her eyes. It appeared that she might faint at any moment. “What do you want, Frank?”

“How much money have you got with you?”

She placed her purse on the table and opened it, taking out a wallet. ‘ ‘About eighty dollars.”

“Give it here.”

She withdrew the money from the wallet and handed it to him; he put it in his jeans pocket.

“I know you always keep money around for emergencies, Evelyn. Where is it?”

“In my bedroom.”

“Get it for me.”

They walked through the living room to the bedroom, the room where he’d always wanted her to take him, and she took the sanitation guy there instead. It was neat and clean like the kitchen, with white lace doilies covering the dressers and the fragrance of her perfume in the air.

“I’m afraid of you,” she whimpered.

“You should be, after all you did to me. Now get me the money.”

She opened a dresser drawer and took out a white envelope, which she handed to him. He looked inside and saw a sheaf of bills. Taking them out, he counted two hundred dollars in tens.

“That’s all I’ve got here, Frank,” she said.

“How much you got in the bank, Evelyn?”

“The bank?”

“Yeah, the bank.”

“Around three thousand dollars.”

“Where’s the bank book.”

“In here.” She took the bank book out of the same drawer where she’d kept the envelope of money.

He opened the bank book and saw that she had $3,443.26 saved up. “How much of this is mine?”

“What do you mean?”

“You always were borrowing a hundred dollars here and a hundred dollars there, and never paying it back. How much do you think you squeezed out of me over the years?”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I meant to pay you back, Frank.”

“Sure you did. How much did you give that sanitation guy?”

“What sanitation guy?”

“The one you were screwing.”

“I wasn’t screwing him,” she said.

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me!”

“Please put the knife away, Frank. You’re scaring me.”

He smiled. “Good.”

She wrung her hands nervously. “Frank, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I never meant to hurt you, honest. I can’t help it if things didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t help it if you’re a fuckin’ cunt.” He looked down at the bank book. “I want my money back, Evelyn.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“We’re going to go to the bank right now together, you and me. You’re going to withdraw three thousand dollars in tens and twenties, and then we’re going to return here and you’re going to give it to me. Then we’ll be even, okay?”

“Sure, Frank.”

“And if you try to call the cops or anything like that, I’ll cut your throat just like I did with all the other women. You know I’m capable of doing it. Let’s go, Evelyn. It’s time to pay back your debts.”

They left the apartment and went down the stairs. They walked to her savings bank on the corner of Second Avenue and Eighth Street and went inside together. He waited for her at one of the tables while she got in line with her bank book, and her face was white as a sheet. He was far enough away so that no one would know they were together, but close enough to cut her down if he had to. His hand was in his pocket, closed around his knife. He was ready for anything.

Finally she came to the head of the line and presented her bank book and withdrawal form to the teller, a bespectacled spidery young woman, who inserted the bank book into a machine, pressed buttons, made written notations, and finally handed Evelyn the money inside her bank book. Evelyn dropped the money and bank book into her purse and walked out of the bank. Kowalchuk followed her.

They walked back to her apartment together, not saying anything. He thought about the many times he’d walked her home and left her at her door, having to be content to peck her cheek once and then leave. After he had gone the sanitation worker went upstairs, according to a friend of Kowalchuk’s who’d lived in the building. The sanitation guy had all the fun and Kowalchuk had paid for it, but today things were going to be different.

They went up the stairs and entered her apartment again. He bolted the door and she took the money and her bank book out of her purse, handing him the money. He counted it, smiled with satisfaction, and folded it into his jeans pocket. That money would keep him going for a long time. The cops would never catch him now.

“Well,” she said, brushing the backs of her fingers against her hair, “I did what you said, Frank. Can I go to work now?” There was a desperate tone in her voice, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

He’d heard that tone before, only before it had been mixed with irritation, whereas now it had fear in it. “No, there’s something else I want you to do, Evelyn. You always used to play cockteaser with me, but now you’re going to suck my cock just like you sucked that sanitation guy’s cock, or else.” He took his switchblade out of his pocket and hit the button. It snapped open in his hand.

Her eyes goggled at the knife. “I never did anything like that with Albert,” she whined.

“Was that his name, Albert?”

She nodded.

“You mean he used to stay here all night and you didn’t fuck him?”

Her eyes were like those of a frightened dog. “He never stayed here all night, Frank.”

“You’re lying to me again, Evelyn. I know he used to stay here all night because I used to wait down in the street to see what time he’d come down. I used to sit on those stoops all night just to see if you were making a fool of me, and I found out that you were, and now you’re trying it all over again.”

“No I’m not, Frank. Honest.”

He bared his teeth. “You’re such a fuckin’ liar, Evelyn.”

“You’re scaring me, Frank,” she blubbered.

He looked at her, then the knife. He didn’t want her to cry, at least not yet. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said soothingly.

She wiped away the tear. “You’re not?”

“No. We’re just going to go to the bedroom together and fool around a little, and then I’m going to leave.”

“You promise you won’t hurt me?”

“I promise.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes.”

“All right, Frank. All right.”

He followed her to the bedroom, an erection growing in his pants. She’d always excited him sexually; there was something warm and soft about her that’d appealed to him. Now he was going to have her at last.

They entered the bedroom and she faced him, strain showing around her mouth.

“You want me to do it right here, Frank?”