All Woman and Springtime

by Brandon Jones

  “What if Razor locks the gate after you come in?” Il-sun asked.

  “I won’t give him the chance. As soon as he opens the door, I’ll be on him, kissing him and squeezing his ass. He won’t be able to think straight. It should work just fine; but if it doesn’t, then . . .” Jasmine swallowed, then cleared her throat. She did not want to say the next part, but she had to. “Whatever the outcome, I have to be on that bus to Kwangju. My mom is already on her way.” She looked down with a guilty look, but she did not linger on it. “You need a code to get out the front door. The code is thirty-seven thirteen. That’s three, seven, one, three. Then you hit the Pound button. That’s the one that looks like this,” she said, drawing a pound sign on the window with her fingertip. “The door will make a buzzing sound when it unlocks. As soon as you’re out the door, turn left and run to the next block. From there, turn left. Walk two-and-a-half blocks, and you will see an alley across the street on the right. Go down the alley to the little noodle shop. Wait there for me. Any questions?”

  “Where will we go from the noodle shop?” asked Cho.

  “From there we will walk together to the bus station—about fifteen blocks. Our bus for Kwangju leaves at nine, which should give us plenty of time. Agreed?”

  “What will happen to us if we get caught?” asked Gi.

  “Let’s not think about it,” said Jasmine.

  57

  CHO DID HER NIGHT work with a knot in her stomach, but with proud resolve knowing that she was taking an active step to escape her captivity. It was much easier to put up with the work knowing that it was her last night on the job. She slept fitfully when she got home, trying not to think of all the things that could go wrong with the plan. It seemed far-fetched and cobbled together. There was no way to know for sure what would happen, in the end.

  The morning came all too slowly. Their neighbor arrived at the usual time and the women went off to clean the building. Cho felt a twinge of guilt knowing that they were escaping, leaving the young woman behind with Mr. Choy. She would have to fend for herself. The day would not go quickly enough, even though she dreaded the danger of escaping. She wanted to get it over with.

  When the women finally climbed the stairs at the end of the day, they were met with a shock—it was not Razor at the gate, but one of the other bouncers. He was older and, by appearances, less gullible. He was one of Mr. Lee’s bullying friends, and all the women feared him. Already it was not going according to plan. The women looked at each other with uncertainty as they were let in. Did this mean that the plan was off? Cho decided to play her part through and went directly to the restroom to wait for Jasmine.

  She sat in one of the stalls for what felt like an endless quarter hour. The door swung open and someone walked inside, but it was only one of the other women who lived on the floor. She came and went. Cho continued to wait. After another quarter hour, the door opened again, but it was only the bouncer, without Jasmine.

  “What’s taking you so long?” he said in a gruff voice.

  “Some things just can’t be rushed,” Cho replied, trying to sound sweet. Her heart was beating in her throat. He closed the door and his footsteps receded down the hall.

  Cho was becoming quite anxious and, after several more minutes, decided to peek into the hallway. She opened the restroom door a crack and peered to the end of the hall. Jasmine was standing at the top of the stairs. She was dressed to seduce—in a miniskirt, a low-cut blouse, and strappy stiletto heels. Cho saw the shock register on her face as she realized that the man behind the gate was not Razor.

  “Oh, hi. Where’s Razor? He’s usually minding this floor,” said Jasmine with a slight quake in her voice.

  “Day off,” replied the bouncer.

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m upset by it. You’re awfully handsome,” she said, recovering herself quickly. “You know, I’ve had my eye on you for some time.”

  Cho was relieved—Jasmine was still going forward with the plan.

  The bouncer either grunted in response, or mumbled something that Cho could not hear.

  “I’ll bet all the girls try to go home with you,” Jasmine said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

  “I’m married,” he responded. It sounded more like a command. A command to leave him alone. Cho felt her heart sink. It wasn’t working. But Jasmine was not so easily deterred.

  “Well, she sure is a lucky woman. I’ll bet you please her all night long,” she said, reaching between the bars of the gate to run her finger down his chest. “I wish someone would please me all night long.” Her voice was syrup. Cho could not see what effect it was having on him.

  “I told you, I’m married,” he said again. It sounded like he was beginning to weaken, but perhaps Cho was only imagining it.

  Jasmine pulled her hand back quickly with a hurt look in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her voice was suddenly cold and injured. Cho admired Jasmine’s subtlety. Now the bouncer felt like he had to apologize for something, even though he did not know why. He was flustered, losing his edge of gruffness.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s just that, a girl like me doesn’t get many chances to have a strong, handsome man like you. You’re a great lover. A girl can tell these things, you know, just by looking at a man. I haven’t been pleased by a real man for such a long time . . .” Jasmine let the thought trail as she offered a steamy look through the bars. “Maybe you could let me in and we could . . .” She allowed that thought to trail also.

  The bouncer unlocked the gate. It was working! They were going to escape! Jasmine charged inside, causing the bouncer to step back. She put her arms around him and kissed him hungrily on the lips. He kissed back. She pressed herself into him, grinding with her hips, pushing him away from the gate. “I’m so hot for you,” she said. “I want you so badly.” She put one of her hands on his buttocks and squeezed. “Take me right now,” she commanded. The bouncer started unfastening his belt. “No, not here,” she said. “Someone might see.”

  “Where?”

  “The bathroom,” she said, exaggerating the breathiness of her voice. She grabbed his hand and started pulling him along the hallway. He had forgotten to lock the door! It was going to work!

  Cho stepped back in the bathroom, listening to their footsteps in the hallway as they approached. They stopped halfway to the restroom. Cho peeked out again.

  “Wait, I have to lock the gate,” he said. Cho’s stomach clenched.

  “No, I have to have you now,” she replied, pulling on his hand.

  “It will just take a second.” He peeled his hand from hers and turned around before she could protest further.

  “Shit!” Cho said aloud, without meaning to. Jasmine heard and looked over. The bouncer assumed it had been Jasmine.

  “Be patient, honey. Good loving like mine is worth waiting for,” he said.

  Cho ducked back into the bathroom.

  Jasmine came in first, with the bouncer right behind. She had a wide, frightened look in her eyes. She made eye contact with Cho and shook her head.

  “Finally finished?” sneered the bouncer when he saw Cho. “I hope you flushed.”

  Cho walked out the door and stood there as it closed behind her. What were they going to do now? Jasmine would still leave, but Cho, Il-sun, and Gi were stuck. The thought was too much for Cho to bear. She had settled in her mind that she was leaving tonight, and she was determined to make it happen; but how?

  Suddenly an idea struck her and her feet responded by taking her down the hall. She opened the door to their apartment and stepped inside, leaving the door wide open.

  “What happened? Is it time?” asked Il-sun frantically. They were all tightly wound.

  Cho did not answer because she did not want to lose the momentum of what she was about to do. She was desperate. She went to the stovetop and grabbed the cast iron skillet. It was still full of leftover vegetables, so she dumped the food onto the floor and walk
ed out of the apartment.

  “What are you doing?” asked Il-sun.

  “Be ready to leave when I say so,” was all she said as she disappeared down the hall.

  Cho marched with purpose to the restroom door. She opened it and stepped through quickly. The bouncer was standing, facing Jasmine against the wall, thrusting himself hard and fast into her. His trousers were around his ankles and Jasmine’s skirt was hiked up around her waist. Jasmine looked up with terror in her eyes as she saw Cho with the frying pan lifted high above her head. The bouncer sensed something and turned his head.

  “What the fu—” he began to say as Cho brought the heavy pan down on the crown of his head. He slumped instantly as the sickening crunch of his skull and the reverberations of the frying pan echoed off the tile walls. He fell to the floor, twitching, the slope of his head permanently changed. Jasmine shrieked.

  “Let’s find his keys!” Cho said, pushing the horror of what she had just done out of her mind.

  Jasmine could not move. She stood there wide-eyed, with her hand over her mouth. Cho bent down and searched the bouncer’s pockets. She found the keys and leveled a look at Jasmine.

  “Are you coming?” she asked, with a calm, steady voice.

  Cho’s voice brought Jasmine out of her shock, and the women left the restroom without looking back.

  Gyong-ho and Il-sun were already standing in the hallway.

  “The gate is locked!” exclaimed Il-sun.

  Cho showed her the keys. She walked to the gate and unlocked it. The women stepped through it and onto the stairs. The stairs were interminable as they jogged down to the ground floor. Freedom was so close, but the danger was still so high.

  They made it to the ground floor without seeing anyone. Jasmine stepped up to the keypad at the front door. She could not press buttons fast enough, and in her hurry she pressed the wrong key. The door refused to open.

  “Come on!” shouted Cho in frustration. They were almost out.

  “I’m doing the best I can!” replied Jasmine. She finally pressed the correct combination and the door buzzed. They could see the fading light of dusk on the other side of it. Jasmine pushed and the door gave way. The women crowded through it, turned left, and ran right into Mr. Lee.

  58

  “WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” shouted Mr. Lee as the women collided with his bulky frame.

  A moment of shocked uncertainty passed between Mr. Lee and the women.

  “Run!” yelled Cho, breaking into a sprint.

  Mr. Lee moved surprisingly quickly for such an overweight man, and managed to grab hold of Cho’s arm in an iron grip just before she was able to bolt out of reach. She wriggled, trying to break free, but he twisted her arm painfully and she screamed.

  Jasmine turned and ran in the opposite direction, but a man jumped out of a parked car and tackled her on the sidewalk. He half dragged her back to the front door.

  “Any of you try to run like that and I’ll break her fucking arm off. Get inside!” Mr. Lee commanded. They stepped back into the building and the door closed behind them with a fateful click. Holding Cho with one hand, he reached into his pocket with the other and produced a mobile phone. Using his thumb he dialed a sequence of numbers.

  “It’s Lee. We have a problem,” he said into the device. “The Northerners tried to bolt . . . Yeah, the new ones . . . What do you want me to do? . . . Okay. We’ll be waiting.” He closed his phone with a snap, and said, “Come with me. You first. Up the stairs.”

  With their hearts pounding they trudged up to the third floor, followed by Mr. Lee, who was still holding on to Cho, with the man who had tackled Jasmine bringing up the rear. Mr. Lee took them into Mr. Choy’s office and closed the door behind him.

  “Sit against the wall in those chairs,” Mr. Lee barked. “And no talking!” He made another call on his mobile phone, but there was apparently no answer.

  “Where is Kang?” he asked the women.

  They did not reply.

  Mr. Lee turned to the other man. “Go up to the fourth floor and check on Kang. He’s not answering his phone.” The man left immediately.

  The silence while they waited was excruciating. Mr. Lee sat at Mr. Choy’s desk facing the women, staring menacingly at them. The women mostly kept their heads down and eyes averted. Gi cleared her throat several times, wanting to spit but had nowhere to do so. Several long minutes passed as the women steeped in their anxiety. Mr. Lee’s phone rang, causing everyone to jump.

  “Lee here,” he said, answering the call. “He’s what? . . . Is he alive? . . . Get someone to help you. Who’s in the studio? . . . Call him and take Kang to the emergency room—I don’t care if his head was fucking cut off, I don’t want an ambulance here. We don’t need that kind of attention . . . Just take him and dump him off. They’ll know what to do . . . You call his wife; I have more important things to do.” Mr. Lee snapped his phone shut.

  My God, I just killed a man, thought Cho as the brunt of her actions hit her full force. She looked at her clawlike hands in disbelief. The hands of a murderer, she thought. Cho felt self-disgust for the violence she had committed. Even if the man did not die, she was guilty of murder in her mind. There had been such anger in her heart seeing the bouncer slam himself so unfeelingly into Jasmine, using her for his own gratification as if she were not there at all. The intent to kill rose straight from her liver to the frying pan without pausing in any of her more sensible organs. She brought the pan down and hit him, hoping he would die. Now she realized that the man had a name—Kang—and he was dying and leaving behind a pretty, young wife who would never fully heal from the grief of losing him. She felt that her guilt might consume her. She wished that she had the power to turn the clock back and make a different choice. Who was she to have wanted a better life?

  Mr. Choy came bursting through the door.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Mr. Lee stood up. He seemed afraid of Mr. Choy’s wrath as well.

  “They hit Kang over the head and stole his keys. I caught them as they were running out the front door.”

  “Where is Kang now?”

  “On his way to the emergency room. He’s still alive, but they say it looks bad. His head is bashed in.”

  Mr. Choy looked at the women, who were sitting in folding chairs in a line against the wall. His eyes landed on Jasmine. “You did this, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine kept her eyes on the floor, tears rolling off her cheeks.

  “I’m hurt that you would do this to me, after all we’ve been through. You’re one of my best.” Mr. Choy could not keep still. His body twitched randomly and he shuffled on his feet, moving from side to side.

  “What should we do with them, boss?” asked Mr. Lee.

  “Let me think, goddamn it, Lee!” shouted Mr. Choy, causing Mr. Lee to flinch. “Shut up when I’m thinking!”

  Mr. Choy had a wild look in his eyes. His pupils were wide like coins. He kept scratching and picking at his face. An open sore on his cheek wept. “I can’t exactly keep them now, can I? Can I, Mr. Lee? Not after they’ve tried to kill one of my men. They could be dangerous. Dangerous, Mr. Lee!”

  “Clearly,” responded Mr. Lee.

  “Well, if I can’t keep them, and I can’t give them away . . . You’re supposed to laugh when I make a joke, Lee.”

  “Joke, sir?” There had been no apparent joke.

  “I can’t give them away. That’s funny. I can’t keep them, and I can’t give them away. Get it? Get it?” He grabbed Mr. Lee by the shoulders and shook him. “Get it?”

  “I think so,” said Mr. Lee, his face showing more fear than understanding.

  “Well, what do you do if you can’t keep something and you can’t give it away?”

  “I really don’t know,” said Mr. Lee with a pained look on his face.

  “That’s because you didn’t go to university. You sell it, Lee! You sell it! We’re going to sell these bitches to the highest bidder. Find me a buyer!” he o
rdered, and stormed out the door.

  59

  THE THIN STRIP OF sky visible from the apartment window showed a cloudless, early-summer day. Gyong-ho wondered if she would ever again get to go out to enjoy the sunlight. It had been three days since they had tried to escape, and they were only allowed out of their apartment once a day to empty their chamber pot. The apartment stank even with the window wide open and the fan on.

  Gi contemplated jumping out the window. Suicide seemed a dignified response, she thought. She was certain that if she dove headfirst she would die from the fall. That thought alone—that she had a quick way of dispatching herself—gave her enough courage to live through another day, tedious and uncertain as it was.

  There was not much to say. They had nearly escaped, but failed. There was nothing to apologize for, no blame to cast. Jasmine could not have arrived any earlier. They could not have made their way down the stairs any faster; and even if Jasmine had gotten the gate code correct on the first try, it would not have made much difference. Mr. Lee would still have been right outside the door. The only regret in the room was felt by Cho, for hitting the bouncer. She regretted every murderous thought she had ever had. There was no real vindication in striking back. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

  Gi found herself once again contemplating what it meant to be sold. Mr. Choy had said that he was going to sell them to the highest bidder. Who would buy them, and for what purpose? How much money was a human life worth, and how does one arrive at that sum? She held on to a glimmer of hope that her new owner would be more kind. Her biggest fear was that she would be separated from Il-sun.