Dmitry's Closet (21 page)

     Dmitry smiled and took a sip of his wine. "You followed me here to tell me to slow down?"

     "Come on, man." Agosto laughed. "I came down here to talk to you man-to-man about some shit going on around town that's got your name all over it."

     "Very suspect kinds of things," Sorrello added, eating one of the rolls in the basket on the table. Dmitry motioned at his own mouth, indicating to Sorrello that he had bread crumbs on his chin.

     Dmitry looked at Agosto and laughed. "Evidently not suspect enough for you to make an arrest, or I'd be in custody already, old friends or not." Dmitry passed Sorrello a napkin and raised his eyebrow.

     Agosto laughed, revealing deep dimples in this well-tanned skin. "Hey. You know me. I keep going until I get my guy."

     "Who are you meeting here today?" Sorrello asked in-terupting.

     "My financial advisor," Dmitry said, completely relaxed. "My stocks are in the toilet, but my off shore investments are doing great. I would like to move around a little capital."

     "By off shore, you mean your millions in pharmaceuticals in Switzerland or medical research in Belgium?" Sorrello asked, revealing his inept knowledge of Dmitry's private life and financial investments.

     "Both actually," Dmitry answered. "Sounds to me like I should have invited my lawyer, too. This could definitely be considered harassment, gentlemen. "

     "Well now, we didn't come here to harass you." Agosto took his drink from the waitress. "We came here to give you a heads up, if you're not actually a criminal."

     "I am no criminal." Dmitry confirmed. "Heads up about what?"

     "Well, we have received reports that a whore-house full of Russian beauties is being operated in one of your many homes in Memphis, and its being run by your baby brother. What is his name?"

     "Ivan?" Dmitry asked, intrigued. This was something new.

     "That's his name," Agosto said, smiling at Sorrello.
"Ivan."

     Dmitry's calm was starting to show a tattering edge. He shifted in his seat a little. "I assure you that I don't deal in whores," he said, cutting his eyes at Agosto. His prominent strong jaw was clinched tightly together.

     "That's what I thought. I mean, you've been here for every bit of ten years or more. How many times have the police ever accused you, of all people, of anything? You're a pillar of our community. A charitable, wealthy business man doesn't dabble in human trafficking." His voice was laced with sarcasm.

     Agosto slid him a picture of Ivan standing outside of one of his rental properties escorting a group of women inside. He gave Dmitry a smug grin. "So, I keep asking myself, 'what the fuck is this then?"

     Dmitry's eyes snapped to the photo. His breathing slowed down more, to a calm even tone. "Gentlemen, I am afraid that I cannot tell you," Dmitry smiled.

     "Mr. Medlov, have you ever heard of a group called the International Law Enforcement Academy in Budapest, Hungary?" Sorrello asked.

     "I've heard of it a few times," Dmitry sat back and his seat, still composed.

     "Most people haven't. It's a working group that focuses on international crime syndicates like the Eurasian trash that we keep linking to you, and they discuss you pretty often along with a larger Eurasian working group that has been curious about your global operations." Agosto injected.

    
"Like I said,
I've heard of it. It's no secret. You can Google it, you know."

     "You know, I worked my entire life because of my family's money and my ethnic background as an Italian American to disprove all the rumors and assumptions that because I had a vowel on the end of my name, I had to be mafia."

     Agosto and Dmitry locked eyes.

     "You didn't like the stereotype, huh?"

     "I despise it," Agosto replied. "But you seem to embrace it and meet all of the expectations of the label, man. You don't care that people look at you like you're some sort of animal."

     "When you're older, you'll realize that they look at you like that anyway. We are in Memphis, you and I. Sorrello, you too. Though I get the feeling that you are more of a blunt object that Agosto." Dmitry smirked and took a sip of his water. "It's doesn't matter if you have big millions or little millions, Agosto. You're still foreign to this place, still different and everything you do, including race-mixing is wrong. You and I have a lot in common, don't we?"

     "No, I don't think that we do."

     "All they'd have to do is prove that those women are there involuntarily." Agosto confirmed.

     "Well, they are not their involuntarily," Dmitry said calmly.

     "You had better hope that no one says otherwise," Agosto spoke under his breath.

     "Why are you giving me this heads up?" Dmitry slid the picture back to Agosto, having immediately recognized the property.

     "Just want you to get your house in order—that's all," Agosto said, drinking the entire glass of scotch. He set the glass down gently on the table and stood up. "We know that you are a good guy and couldn't possibly know what's going on. We just came here to tell you what the rumors were and to make sure that you had no hand in this." Both Agosto and Sorrello looked down at Dmitry.

     "I assure you that I've had no hand in this. What do I owe you gentlemen for such a kind gesture?" Dmitry asked, hands crossed and eyes focused. His voice barely rose.

     "Nothing at all. Consider it a gift," Agosto said, putting his coat back on.

     "I will remember this favor," Dmitry said, trying to control the fire coming from under his collar.

     The two men left as quickly as they had come, passing a black man in a nice business suit, whom they were sure was Omar Jackson, arriving for his meeting with Dmitry. After they entered back into the hotel lobby, Sorrello looked back to make sure that no one was following them.

     "That is one magnificently cold-hearted bastard up close," Sorrello said, checking his cigarette patch to make sure that it was still on his arm. Suddenly, he was craving a cigarette.

     "It's the eyes. They don't even look like their supposed to be on a human."

     "Cause he's not human. So, what do you suppose he's thinking?"

     "Are you kidding? He wants to kill his brother. Put that tail on him now. He doesn't even care that we're following him. He's going straight to Ivan after he finishes with Omar," Agosto said, sure of himself.

     "He didn't flinch once."

     "Cause he knows that we don't have shit," Agosto said, hitting the alarm for his car. "It's a shame. All of this work, for all of these years, and we still have nothing."

     "I've never seen anything like it."

     "Me either. He's one of the best."

     "If not the best..."

     "Dmitry has run this whole operation without so much as one hiccup for years, but we may have hope now because of his black sheep brother Ivan. As soon as he showed up, shit went south. I just know that he's going to teach him a lesson, though. He knows that we'll barely have a case with these prostitutes, but now, if Ivan slips and gives us something on the gun trafficking, we'll have a stone clad case against the entire organization."

     Sorrello spat on the ground. "Fucking Vory."

Chapter 15

     Black Friday had been a hit for
Dmitry's Closet.
Royal, Renée and Cory nearly emptied their summer collection as well as their clearance fall items. The boutique had been crowded since it opened early that morning and had kept a constant flow of traffic the entire day. Now, as the night settled in, Cory escorted the last customer to her car while Royal counted down the drawer. Suddenly, the phone rang. Renée answered, listened to the caller and quickly brought the phone over to Royal.

     "Who is it," Royal asked, trying not to lose count of the large wad of money in her hand.

     "Dmitry," Renée answered, putting the phone to Royal's ear.

     "Hello," Royal said, putting the money down. "I'll be late coming home," Dmitry said, shifting gears in his car. "I've got couple of more things to handle."

     "Okay, baby." Royal could since trouble in his voice.

     "What's wrong?"

     "Nothing," Dmitry said quickly. "Are you sure?"

     "Dah," Dmitry said, focused on the streets as drove quickly down the winding back path of Main Street to his brother's house.

     "Okay," Royal sighed. "I'll see you later then."

     "Is everything cool?" Renée asked, as Royal hung up the phone.

     "Yeah. He's just
busy."
She looked up as Cory walked back in the front door. "Lock the door," she ordered as she picked up the money again. "I have to hurry up with this. Anatoly will be here in a minute to pick it up."

     "Man, we made a killing," Renée said, astonished at the huge wad of money.

     "I know, girl. This is only one handful. I've got a ton of credit card receipts, checks... everything."

     "Anatoly isn't here yet?" Cory asked, looking for Royal's bodyguard.

     "He just called and said that he was on his way." Royal said, counting the money out. "Give me a minute. I just need to make sure that this is right." She counted out the money quickly and bagged it with the receipt. "Damn, that is the most we've made since we opened."

     Just then Anatoly came in the back door in a black suit. Everyone watched on amazed. All anyone had ever seen Anatoly wear were jeans and t-shirts. Never a suit. Now, he looked a lot like his father.

     Cory looked at him suspiciously as Anatoly passed him. He made his way to the cash register with Royal and walked behind the counter.

     "You look nice," she said smiling. "What's the occasion?" She held the bag of money in her hand.

     "No occasion." He reached for the bag.

     "Bullshit." Royal pulled the bag away. "What gives?"

     Anatoly reached over without a smile and scowled at Royal. "Give me bag, woman."

     "Tell me what gives," Royal smiled. "You look like a million bucks. I wish that Dmitry could see this. He'd be so proud."

    
"Spasiba,"
he said, growling. "Now, give me bag."

     "Oh, alright," Royal said, finally giving in. He took the bag carefully out of her hand and smiled at little at her. "You really think it looks nice."

     "I think you look dreamy," Royal said smiling. "Really."

     Remembering himself, Anatoly cleared his voice. "I have to go. Make sure that someone escorts you to car."

     "I will. I know the drill," Royal said, waving as he walked off.

     "He cleans up good," Renée said, watching him walk away. "I never realized how buff he is."

     "I know, right." Cory said, chiming in. "Too bad he's not swinging for the other team."

     "You never know," Renée added.

     "So, do you want to try on the new stuff that just came in from Milan?" Royal said, quickly changing the subject. It made her incredibly uncomfortable for the two of them to talk about Anatoly. For some reason, she was very protective of him, even though she was sure that he could take care of himself.

     "Oh, girl. I almost forgot." Renée said, grabbing her purse. "Let's go."

     "I've got some stuff in the back. Let's close up shop here and go upstairs," Royal said, hitting the lights.

     When a new shipment of clothes came in, Royal and her staff always played dress up before they put the clothes on the racks. While Renée could barely afford the clothes, even with her fifty percent discount, Royal would seriously look at the clothes and buy the ones she thought were extremely complimentary to her body type. Cory always chimed in with advice on fit and look. While he was not a woman, he was a gay shopkeeper with excellent taste that both ladies valued dearly.

     They all went quickly up to Royal's old apartment and set the clothes out on the couch in the living room. Royal poured a glass of wine for each of them and stood by the fireplace laughing as they talked.

     "Okay. So, do you want to try on the new Dolce or the new Armani?" Renée asked, salivating at the prospect.

     "Um, definitely the Armani for me," Royal said, unbuttoning her shirt. Taking off her shirt and sliding off her jeans, she stood in only g-string panties and a black lace bra. Renée walked over and passed her the black Armani dress.

     Cory sat sipping his wine and quietly watching on. There were
some perks
of pretending to be gay, like watching women strip nearly naked in front of him. He sat on the couch watching carefully as Royal slipped her long bare legs into the dress.

     Royal was absolutely beautiful. She had gotten undressed in front of him a hundred times, and with every inspection of her body, he'd never seen one flaw. He found her fascinating and breathtaking, and if he weren't married and Dmitry not a cold hearted killer, he would have definitely pursued her.

     Renée had slipped and told him once that Royal was virgin before getting with Dmitry, which explained his boss's obsessive behavior and his constant protection of her. The news had hit him like a ton of bricks. It also gave him a new found respect for her. As beautiful as she was, she could have had any man or anything that she wanted long ago, but judging her choice for a first, she would have that anyway.

     "Cory, zip me up," Royal ordered backing up to him as he sat looking at her exposed rear end.

     After a few sips of wine, he felt like slapping her on the ass and leaning her over the end of the couch. Instead, he stood up behind her and zipped her up slowly, taking in the sweet smell of her perfume and soft fragrance in her hair. Dmitry doesn't deserve you, he thought.

     "There you go, girlie," he said, tapping her hip. "Slow down on the Twinkies. You're getting wide."

     "You really think so?" Royal asked, touching her hips.

     "Do I look really wide?"

     Cory sat back down and looked at her rear again. "Oh yeah." He took another sip of his wine.