Dmitry's Closet (23 page)

     "What started the war?" Anatoly asked.

     "The one Italian drug dealer wanted to expand more into areas that were not really the blacks' territory but not really his."

     "And the blacks pushed back?"

     "You're damned right. It was bloodshed on both the streets and in the police department. That's why Agosto and Brooks were named leads on the mayor's war on drugs. Agosto is Italian, and he's an implant to Memphis straight from Miami. Brooks was a native black with ties directly to the mayor, since both he and his father worked for him.

     "This union created by Mayor Henderson was to begin to develop a peace between Italians and blacks in the community. But people were pissed because Agosto and Brooks never once busted any large black or Italian drug dealers. They hit up a middle weight Hispanic drug dealer by the name of Caesar. Agosto ended up killing him in his own bedroom after Brooks was assassinated. When Brooks died, the city went insane on their drug witch hunt. And all sides went scrambling to take over Caesar's territory that was eventually divided by the black and Italians after a truce was called, but it's still mostly run by a Mexican cartel out of Mexico City, because there was big transition from crack cocaine to meth. You know, the economy is bad..."

     "So why didn't Vory use that opportunity to move in?"

     "Opportunity costs were too high. We had credible Intel from the feds that all parties were being watched carefully. However the ATF did not have a strong presence in the area. Now the fucking DEA was hopping all over this city. They had stake out on every corner. So, we opted to stay in guns, because it was safer. Plus the Hispanics, Blacks and Italians were shooting each other left and right, and we were the ones making a killing. Sure we have drug cartels and money laundering across the US, but we only handle guns here. A lot of Vory have gotten to the point that they don't even do business in their home cities. They just run things from a central base. It's safer that way. It never comes back on you."

     "Yeah. I heard you talking to the men about it. So with guns, you had neutrality?" Anatoly was much more interested in what market share they already controlled.

     "Exactly. Everyone came to us. And we had an understanding with all sides that we would sell to
anyone
with cash or goods to barter. Since that time because of our supply chain nationwide, we have amassed so much wealth it is... ungodly."

     "Selling to everyone didn't create a problem for you? I can't see how it wouldn't."

     "At first, it was hard to persuade them. And my old boss taught us to think through things with our minds before we resulted to guns. But when I saw that we couldn't reason with some of the groups, we brought in enforcers from Israel and Georgia and introduced them to what the Vory v Zakone was all about. Then people started to respect our territory. We showed up at people's jobs, at their homes, at their businesses. Then the extortion began and after that, it was almost total submission. They saw that no place was safe or sacred. Hell, once a man was cut from ear to ear outside of the police department. Unfortunately, they never got his cooperation."

     "So violence does work." It was one of Anatoly's most effective techniques.

     "Sometimes it works, but you will find my old boss' advise very helpful. Only young men like you roll heads. As you get older, the way that people can tell that you are leader is not by what you have to do but what you don't have to do. Anyway, we moved in quickly and knocked the small fish out of pond.

     "Most of the Vory that came down here had been to war and back. So, they lived and breathed the takeover. It took us seven months to kill the competition, set up our headquarters and start taking large orders for guns. The death toll was astronomical. But it eventually leveled off once people saw that we weren't after their drugs or whores or their cars or anything else. We just wanted to sell them some quality guns."

     "Just like that? Huh?"

     "Just like that," Dmitry said, quickly. "Now the importance of our legitimate businesses, which as you know go completely against our original code, is to launder money efficiently. All of us bought real estate, started business, and purchased stock, bonds and CDs. We washed the money clean through our intricate web of family businesses. In less than five years, we made millions on top of millions. Plus, every time the crime rate goes up in Memphis, not only home owners get guns, bad guys do too. So, we sell to everyone. Between the heads of the Memphis Vory, we have four guns shops here, two pawns shops, a shooting range, three restaurants, a tire shop, a beauty salon, a grocery store, six check cashing stores, four liquor stores, over 20 residential properties, an upscale boutique, seven commercial properties, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree. That, my son, keeps our shipments safe and legitimate. We ship guns, but not all of them are illegal. And when some young agent or hard-up cop wants to get hot on our trail, a friendly brother-in-blue gives us the heads up... for a fee, of course."

     "So, you've always owned a few cops to give you the inside scoop?"

     "They are sometimes hard to find. But yes. A cop was the lead that let me know that Memphis was an untapped oyster for my business eleven years ago. He helped me get started here in exchange for us supplying his own little war against some very unwilling citizens that didn't want to sell their land to a major corporation that needed the land to expand."

     "How did you meet him?"

     "I was introduced to him while he was on trip to New York looking to acquire some hired help after he made the deal with corporation."

     "What happened to the cop? Is he still around?"

     "He retired once the land was acquired. Evidently, he got big, big cut from sale of the property because his wife was the land broker."

     "Does everyone retire?"

     "If you're lucky." Dmitry sighed. "If I am lucky."

     "So now we control the flow of guns into the city and out of the city for everyone, even North Memphis where the Hispanic gun traders had settled in and we have ten whore houses." Anatoly didn't see the problem, but would follow his father's lead.

     "Do I look like a fucking pimp to you? It's not my style. My mother was whore. She died in my arms on the steps of our home because of a John that both me and my brother knew well. It's not pretty business, and it's not business that has a great return. Munitions on the other hand, we have a lock on."

     "So what do we do about your brother's ambitious new businesses?"

     Dmitry looked his son in the face and smiled. "Burn it to ground. It's a matter of survival and none of our council has agreed to this new business of his."

     "I can see it. You're on the verge of a war with him."

     "The verge? My boy, we are battling every day. The biggest battle has just not begun yet."

     "Are you going to kill him?"

     "I don't know. I don't want to, but I fear that if he continues, as much as I love him, I will."

     "You should have me do it." Anatoly said eagerly.

     "You do not have your stars yet," Dmitry said absently. He could see that just the mention of that fact defeated Anatoly.

     "It is not for lack of trying."

     "You have proven yourself. Give me until the next meeting of the high council, and it will be done." Dmitry reached out and tapped his son's knee. "Now, I am going to hit my gym. Class is over. You get some rest."

∞♥∞

     It was mid-morning when Dmitry opened the door their bedroom carrying a large silver tray with a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a glass of orange juice and a flower. The sun beamed into the room and onto the bed where Royal was curled up under the comforter.

     She had dosed off to sleep again, completely drained from her constant coughing and the strong drugs the doctor had given her, but she quickly woke up when she heard his feet walking across the floor. She opened her eyes, looked up at him and saw small circles under his eyes. Maybe she needed to take care of him for a while.

     "Are you still running fever?" he asked, setting the food down on the large nightstand beside them.

     "I don't think so," she said, touching her own forehead. "I just feel stuffy."

     "I'm going to use remedy on you that has worked wonders for me for years." Dmitry passed her the glass of orange juice.

     "What would that be?" She stretched out her long legs and moaned.

     "First you take hot shower; then you put Vick's vapor rub on your chest."

     "Oh, I've done that before. Not for years, but I've done it."

     "We do it today," he confirmed. "So eat your food."

     Dmitry stood up and walked into the bathroom, where she heard him turn on the jets to the shower. She grabbed the remote, flipped through her channels and suddenly realized that this was the first day in a very long time that she had been home during this hour.

     It was quite odd to her, how the sun shined through the blinds so bright and forceful. It was practically begging her to get up and go to work. It was also such a shame to waist a brilliant day of sunlight, even if it was freezing outside. But Dmitry would never let her go. He might, in fact, keep her longer if she pushed him. She huffed at the thought.

     Submitting to his relentless will, she grabbed her bowl and spoon and ate just enough of the soup to make her throat feel better then pulled herself out of bed. Shedding out of her heavy University of Memphis pullover and jogging pants, she walked into the bathroom in her panties in bra, where she found Dmitry leaning over the sink shaving.

     He looked over at her through the mirror and then motioned for her to get into the water.

     "Breathe in fog once you're in there," he said as he tapped his razor against the porcelain bowl. "It will open up your passages."

     Running his razor through the stream of water coming out of the faucet, he lifted his neck and let the long four-pronged blade gently glide the length of his lower chin and neck.

     Royal took off her panties and bra and placed it in the wicker hamper, and then opened the large, smoked glass door to the box-like glass shower room where water shot from the many jets shot straight into her from every direction. Taking deep breaths as Dmitry instructed, she grabbed a bottle of tea-tree shampoo and washed her hair. The steam enclosed the room, hiding her from Dmitry's view, and the hot water soothed her aching body and her congested chest.

     Now cleanly shaven, Dmitry opened the door and dropped his towel. Entering into the shower room, he grabbed the soap and walked up beside her. Running his hands over the knobs, he adjusted his jets to his own temperature and pressure.

     Royal eyed him while she rinsed her hair. His large frame towered over her, and even with his wall-like back turned away from her, she could see his magnificent sculpting from every angle. She tilted her head a little to get a better view, but he turned enough to catch her peeking. Rinsing the soap from his face, he pulled her over to him and stood in front of her, hiding her from view.

     "You're supposed to be sick" he said smiling.

     He knew Royal's devilish look. The cascade of water ran over his body, flattened his normally curly hair. She watched as the water glistened on his wet skin. Instinctively, she ran her hand down the front of his marble chest.

     "Then make me feel better," she whispered, moving in closer to his body.

     Dmitry ran his hands through her soapy hair and pulled her in front of jets to rinse her off. The water covered her face and caused her to tilt her head back. She could feel the warm water and his large hands on her head rinsing her clean. With her eyes closed, she felt Dmitry's hungry lips meet hers. He kissed her softly, exploring the soft ebb and flow of her lively tongue. She could taste the minty freshness of his toothpaste and feel the warmth of his full lips. He held her face in both of his hands as he bent over to her. She bit his lips playfully and smiled as he pulled her out of the water.

     "Come on. I'm going to dry you off before you get worse." He opened the door to the shower and handed her a large towel to dry off.

     "But I thought you said that you would make me feel better?" She wrapped the towel around her body and followed him out into the bedroom.

     "I never said that, shop girl," he said, going to his large armoire to pull out a clean pair of underwear.

     Royal lay back on the bed in her towel, placed her feet on the side rails of the bed and looked at the ceiling fan.

     She wasn't sure if she was overheated from the shower or the man. Raising her head, she looked over at him as he slipped on his jogging pants.

     "Do you feel ill again?" he asked.

     "Just weak."

     "In your state, why do you want me to make you feel worse?"

     "You won't," she leaned over on her side and watched him walk up the bed.

     "I will, and you know it." He crawled in the bed beside her and grabbed the remote.

     "Are you going to tease me all day?" she asked, taking her eyes off him and concentrating on the television.

     "Are you going to pout all day?"

     "I may." She crawled back out of bed to get dressed. When she returned, Dmitry had the bottle of Vick's vapor rub. Rolling her eyes, Royal sat near the opposite edge of the bed in one of his tailor-made dress shirts and checked her cell phone.

     Dmitry watched her pouting and laughed a little. Reaching across the bed, he pulled her to him, straddled her over his lap and slipped his hand under her shirt. She watched curiously as his hand landed in between her breasts with a palm full of salve. He rubbed it into her skin softy and tapped her on her nearly exposed behind.

     "Lie down and rest," he said.

     "But I can feel that you want me," she said, rotating on his growing erection.

    
"But
you're sick and you need to get well first." His breathing was growing sporadic watching her seduce him. The swell of her breast was showing slightly at the top of the unbuttoned shirt, and her nipples pressed out against the fine cotton. Had she not been sick, he would have already bedded her but decided against it with her fever rising by the minute. He could feel the heat between her thighs. She needed rest and medicine not what he so desired to give her.