Good Intentions (Samogon 1) (11 page)

The sun was slowly rising as the moon faded away. Louise Donovan was already up and showered while her baby girl continued to sleep. She could tell it was going to be a hot day.

In the kitchen, Louise labored away preparing breakfast.
Buttermilk biscuits, pork-sausage and gravy, bacon, fresh cantaloupe and strawberries, and Rice Krispies. Chris had to have his Rice Krispies and he would arrive any moment. Louise had told him breakfast at five-thirty and on the road by six-thirty.

Upstairs, Rochelle was rolling out of bed and slowly making her way to the shower.
She peered out the bathroom window at the farm. Morning dew covered the grass and clovers. A few deer—mostly does—moved across the far side of the farm feeding along the edges of the corn fields. The smell of the fresh morning air blew in through the open window. Rochelle was fully awake and ready to start on a new adventure.

As Louise stood at the stove stirring gravy, she prayed to God and gave thanks for having been given such a wonderful child and blessed life.
Next, she began talking softly to Richard as if he was right there. “I know you’re looking down on us. I know you see your baby-girl and that she is off to college today. We’ve worked so hard and waited anxiously for this day. Everything you did and everything you gave so she could have this opportunity, it was all worth it, poppa. If only you were still with us, you’d be driving her to Ohio yourself. I’m so proud of her.”

“Who are you talking to
, Momma?” Rochelle made her way across the kitchen and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.

As Louise turned to set the table, Chris pulled into the Donovan farm right on time.
He hadn’t taken two steps out of his truck before Rochelle noticed …
it
…
from the kitchen window.

“Are you kidding me?
No way! Go back and change!”

Chris stopped in his tracks and looked at Rochelle trying to figure out what she was smitten with, then he realized it and just started laughing.
“I didn’t even notice. It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

Hurrying to get ready, Chris had grabbed the top tee shirt in his dresser without looking—a University of Kentucky tee shirt.
“You don’t think those Ohio State chumps are going to think bad about you if I’ve got this on, do you?”

“Momma, make him change it.”

Louise just smiled and giggled quietly. “Both of you sit down and eat. We’re going to be on the road for Columbus in an hour, and you two still have to load Chris’ truck.”

Chris was still laughing as he sat down and started filling his plate.
Rochelle sat across from him, giving him the evil-eye.

***

It was eight-thirty in the morning when they pulled into Columbus. The streets through the OSU campus were gridlocked with freshmen and their families. It seemed everyone had arrived at precisely the same time.

Rochelle navigated her way down 12th Avenue to Paterson Hall where she would live her first year.
Around the corner on Neil Avenue, she finally found a place to park her car, leaving her mother and her with having to walk a long way that would take them past Mack and Bradley Halls before making it back to Paterson.

“Could be worse,” she told her mom, “we could be parking on Oval Drive.”

Chris got in line behind a string of cars parked on 12th Avenue and was two halls away in front of Baker Hall West.

“Wait here while mom and I check-in and get my dorm key,” Rochelle told Chris.
“And change your shirt!”

Chris upped the ante and placed a Louisville University ballcap on the dash facing out the windshield for everyone to see.
Rochelle just shook her head and headed into Paterson Hall.

Room 424, fourth floor.
That was her home for now. The RA―Resident Assistant―informed Rochelle that her roommate had already arrived. Rochelle had yet to meet Alexis Roberts but had spoken with her on the phone a few times.

Chris had made it as close to the front doors of Paterson Hall as he was going to get when the Donovan women returned to the truck.
All the heavy stuff was in Chris’ truck. He brought a two-wheel dolly with him after remembering all the work he did moving those whiskey barrels out of the bunker.

After loading the dolly, Chris headed for the elevator with the first load
―footlocker, mini-refrigerator, laptop computer, and the plasma television. Rochelle was right behind him carrying a suitcase and a few garment-bags. Her mother pulled up the rear with bedding and pillows.

The room was more spacious than the photos on the university website let on.
Front to back, the room was twelve feet long and almost as wide. A fresh coat of school-gray paint colored the walls. Not her favorite color, but at least it was fresh. Nobody wants to be slumming with chipped and peeling paint.

“Rochelle!”

“Hey, you must be Alexis.”

The two
freshmen hugged with great enthusiasm meeting each other for the first time. Rochelle introduced her mother and Chris, and Alexis returned the courtesy by introducing her parents and two little brothers.

Alexis Roberts was an African-American from an upper-middle-class family, born and raised in Cincinnati.
Her father was a franchise owner of a Home Depot store.

Mr. Roberts, who was wearing a University of Cincinnati alumni shirt, saw Chris and said, “Nice shirt.”

“Thank you,” replied Chris. “Yours too.”

Rochelle couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.
Why would you two morons wear tee shirts from other schools on our first day at OSU?

After both girls were moved in, their families agreed to meet for lunch before leaving Alexis and Rochelle on their own.
In the meantime, Rochelle, Louise and Chris toured the campus and made a few stops along the way.

They made their way to the campus bookstore on the second floor of the student union where
Rochelle purchased all her textbooks. Only a few
used
books were still on the shelves, which was what she was looking for to save some money and to have almost all of her required reading already highlighted by its previous owner.

“What if the last person to have the book was stupid?
All your answers will be wrong.” Chris was prodding her in front of her mother for his own amusement. “Ms. D., maybe she should get new books and learn this stuff on her own.”

“Hey, mind your own business or enroll in college yourself,” Rochelle snapped back.

“Chris is right. You get new books. You’re smarter than that. You don’t need to be cheating and relying on someone else’s work that might not even be right.”

Chris just laughed and Rochelle
returned the favor by buying him an OSU tee shirt.

Next, they made their way to the Administration building where Rochelle could get a campus sticker for her car and be allowed to park on campus.
As they walked across campus, Rochelle saw that Chris wasn’t going unnoticed with the female student-body. He was bigger and more muscular than most of the football players and he had such a smooth and handsome face. Girl after girl kept looking his way, some even made remarks that didn’t escape Rochelle’s ears. Enjoying the moment, Chris smiled back at them as they passed him by.

“Are you through?”
Rochelle asked.

“What?
I’m not doing anything—just walking with you. You can’t blame them for knowing a good thing when they see it.” Chris had the biggest smile on his face and was loving it.

Rochelle was showing a little jealousy.
Any other time she was the one getting all the attention. She looked to her mom who was looking across campus ignoring it all. Louise was staying out of this one. But no matter how many girls looked his way, Rochelle knew he only had eyes for her. She tried to convince herself that it was no big deal because Chris wasn’t her boyfriend, but it didn’t work―and Chris continued to eat-it-up.

After the Roberts and Donovans had lunch they headed back to the dormitory.
Louise was having a hard time saying goodbye—so was Mrs. Roberts. Both mothers kept going through their daughters’ stuff making sure they had everything.

Mr. Roberts said to his daughter,
“Well, little lady, say goodbye to your mother and give your dad a hug.” He knew if he didn’t step in and take control of the situation these women would be here all day.

Louise Donovan was trying not to cry as she said goodbye to her only child.
This joyful moment also had an adverse effect, as part of her felt like everyone she loved was leaving. First Richard, now Rochelle.

After a long embrace and tearful goodbye, Rochelle turned to Chris.
“Watch her, Chris. You’re the only one who will be there day-to-day.”

“I will.
You know I will. You take care of yourself. Remember our talk and don’t lose focus.”

They embraced and exchanged a long slow kiss.
That was the first time Louise had witnessed such affection between the two. She had always suspected it was there and that the two were just hiding it from Richard for whatever reason. Now she knew and her spirits were lifted just a bit.

The drive home left Louise and Chris plenty of time to talk to one another.
She asked about his relationship with Rochelle and how long it had been going on. Chris was happy to say that the two had feelings for one another but couldn’t say much more. He didn’t say anything to her about Mikhail, and he was relieved when she changed the subject and asked about the farm.

“I couldn’t help but notice all the activity coming out of the bunker.
You don’t think you’re doing too much down there, do you?” She was concerned for Chris. She loved him like a son and didn’t want to see him hauled off to prison. And knowing now about his relationship with Rochelle, she was concerned even more. “Maybe you should slow down a bit?”

“It’s primarily for one customer.
The money coming in from this guy is how the taxes got paid.”

“Well, that’s all fine and dandy as long as you can control it.
But there are two of Richard’s customers that have treated us very well over the years and I don’t want them to be turned away just because Richard is gone.”

Chris knew immediately which two customers Louise was speaking of
—Jerry Clusters of Virginia and David Bannister of West Virginia. Both men had been buying from Richard since the start in 1995.

Bannister bought year around.
His dad used to hunt with former Senator Donald Brennan before the senator was stricken with cancer. Bannister was big in NASCAR, owning cars in the Nationwide Series and Sprint Cup. He was a special customer who preferred to have his white lightening bottled in old fashion Mason jars. Bannister was nostalgic and liked the old ways.

Clusters operated a hunting lodge on his fifteen-thousand-acre ranch in Virginia.
Richard had always supplied Cluster’s lodge with his Apple Cider, which was served-up to hunters after a long cold day in the woods and fields.

“Don’t worry Ms. D., your husband taught me better than to drop important and loyal customers.
Although, I am a little concerned transporting the stuff east right now. The ATF have been cracking down in West Virginia. But I promise you, those men will be taken care of and treated right.”

It was shortly after seven o'clock in the evening and the Friday night crowd was slowly rolling in. Rochelle and Alexis were spending their first Friday night as college kids at Kelso’s Pub with twenty other freshmen.

Kelso’s was an old Irish pub.
The original entrance was at the front corner of the pub where the main drag and side street intersected. The bar was thirty-foot long, solid oak, with a polished shine that brought out the dark stains from years of spilled bourbon and ale. Short two-top tables and chairs lined one wall. At the rear of the pub were two pool tables and a snooker table.

During the eighties, when the current generation of Kelso’s took over management, the pub was extended to add a full kitchen and large barroom to accommodate the ever-growing college population.
The large kitchen menu and food license allowed the pub to open its doors to students under twenty-one.

The Kelso family left the original barroom untouched with its traditional old-world décor and feel.
The additional barroom, however, was styled as a modern sports bar and had an additional entrance to the side street. OSU memorabilia and photographs of students and athletes decorated all the walls. Seating in the new barroom consisted of tall four-top tables and bar stools that were spread out across the middle of the floor. Booths lined three walls. Plasma televisions aired all the OSU games and pro sports.

As promised, Mikhail came by and met Rochelle.
He strolled in the front door wearing a black, short-sleeved designer shirt with blue jeans. Two gold necklaces draped over his collar. A silver Roger Dubuis watch was on his left wrist. As he walked past the bar, he acknowledged one of the bartenders with a head-nod. The bartender, a large muscular man in his late twenties with a European look, returned the nod. Mikhail made his way to the back barroom and found Rochelle.

“Mikhail, over here.”
Rochelle jumped out of the booth, excited to see him.

“Hello, love.
How are you settling in?”

“Oh, Mikhail, I’m loving it,” she said as she gave him a big hug.
The two young lovers exchanged a long slow kiss as Alexis watched wide-eyed, smiling at the mixed-race couple.

“Mikhail, this is my roommate, Alexis.
And this is Mikhail, my Russian buddy from high school.”

Mikhail took Alexis’ offered hand in both of his and told her what a pleasure it was to meet a friend of Rochelle’s.
“Mikhail, you’re such a smoothie. Watch him Alexis, he’s a flirt.” Both girls started giggling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mikhail.”
Alexis was confused having seen Rochelle at the dorm kissing Chris with such emotion and passion when they said goodbye. Maybe Rochelle played the field, maybe she was a ho. Alexis figured she would find out soon enough.

“I thought I would take you for a drive around Columbus, show you my brother’s place and where I am working.
What do you say, love?”

“Alexis, you mind if I head out?
I wasn’t planning on abandoning you.” Rochelle thought it was a little rude of Mikhail not to invite Alexis, but he must have had a reason for it, more than just wanting to be alone with her.

“You two go ahead.
I thought about heading back at nine o'clock anyway. Don’t forget, we have two rush parties tomorrow night.”

“Don’t worry, Alexis, I’m not missing any of rush.
I shouldn’t be too late. I’ll see ya later.”

Mikhail led Rochelle out the front barroom.
As they passed the front bar, the muscular bartender slid a
USB thumb-drive
across to Mikhail, who discretely pocketed it.
Rochelle just watched and said nothing.

Mikhail walked Rochelle down the street to his car, and Rochelle stared in awe as Mikhail unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.
There sat a titanium silver 2006 Aston Martin V8 Vantage with nineteen-inch alloy wheels. The interior was obsidian black and had a 700-watt audio system.

“Pretty plush for an eighteen year-old,” she said.

“Are you getting in, love?”

Rochelle let out a gasp of air.
“Yeah!” She was beside herself with glee.

The Aston Martin’s throttle rocketed the couple down the street and into the night.
It was such a smooth ride. Rochelle loved it.

“Not bad for a used car, huh?”

Rochelle just looked at him. “Used? Who cares that it’s used. This ride is dope.”

Mikhail just laughed hearing her use urban slang that he didn’t quite understand, but he knew it was good whatever she meant.

“I guess the
family business
is treating you right.”

“It’s going very good, love.
But isn’t it also going good for the Donovan family? We may have had only two shipments so far, but with a third one tomorrow night, I am confident that you are doing financially well.”

“Yeah, I don’t have any complaints.”
Rochelle changed the subject. “So, you know that bartender back there?”

“Ivan?
Yes, he is one of us. He works at Kelso’s, helps them with security. A bouncer like.”

“Bullshit.
He provides protection and they pay for it. I’m not stupid, Mikhail.”

“Of course not.
But it is a good thing providing security. There has been an increase in crime in Columbus with blacks and Mexican gangs threatening every street corner. Ivan helps keep all that trouble out of Kelso’s. They pay for it just like they would if he were a legitimate security guard with a security company.”

“Maybe.
But Kelso’s doesn’t get to write that expense off their taxes, and your brother doesn’t pay taxes on the money he gets from it.”

“Taxes?
What is that? I thought I knew all your American words.” Mikhail was smiling and Rochelle was laughing at his sarcasm. “Having Ivan there also allows us to run our sports book with all the college kids. So we don’t really charge Kelso for protection. Sort of a trade―we give his pub protection and he lets us run our sports book. College sports is big big money.”

Rochelle was fascinated to learn how things really worked in the real world.
Nothing like this got taught in school or in textbooks.

“You see there,” asked Mikhail as they pulled into a large parking lot.
“Deblin Auto Mart. That is one of my brother’s businesses. And around the corner here, you see this plaza?” Mikhail rounded the corner lot and pulled across the street and stopped. Along the east side of the lot were a line of storefronts. Among them at one end was the Brickyard―a nightclub. “This is another place my brother owns. It plays host to a lot of the students from OSU and the junior colleges here in town.”

Out in the parking lot and detached from the club and other stores stood a large family restaurant and bar with a large marque
e that read, “Sylvio’s.” “And this, love, is my brother’s restaurant, his flagship. When Peter came here two decades ago from New York, Sylvio’s was his first business. It even has a large banquet room for private parties and receptions. He is sentimental and will not sell it, even now that he is in Cincinnati. He won’t even sell it to me.”

“What about all those businesses over there, on the north side of the lot?
Who runs them?” Rochelle was looking at a Comfort Inn Hotel, and two other stores that looked closed and out of business.

“Well, all the real estate you see
—the land and the buildings—my family owns. The hotel is owned by our entire family. It is a franchise unit my father encouraged my brothers to invest in. So, even though my brother owns and operates the club and restaurant, he still kicks down rent to the family for the leases on them.”

Rochelle was so interested in the Rimskys’ American operations that she sat there silent, encouraging Mikhail to keep showing her the business side of his family.
If he slowed down, she threw questions at him, one after another.

“These two storefronts that are closed couldn’t make enough profit to stay open.
They both folded not long ago. Our real estate company has been advertising the commercial space for lease, but so far no takers.”

Mikhail looked across the car at Rochelle.
She was leaning forward, resting on the dash of the Aston Martin. Mikhail could see a million thoughts running through her head as she stared immensely at the two defunct storefronts. “What are you thinking of, love?” She didn’t hear him. He poked her in the ribs. “Hey.” She jumped.

Looking at Mikhail, she just smiled ear-to-ear.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Yeah, I could see that.
But what were you thinking?”

“Well, you’re not so far from the OSU campus and all of its dorms and apartments, and I can see at least three apartment complexes from here.
The Brickyard looks like it generates a lot of traffic, and these two units are just a hundred feet from the club.”

“Yes, and we are just two blocks from a major intersection that leads to the interstate.
I believe you Americans say, ‘location, location, location.’ But what has you foaming at the mouth?”

“Mikhail, I haven’t seen a single laundromat anywhere.
And the washers and dryers in the dorm suck.”

Mikhail listened, enthralled at her excitement over an empty storefront and a washing machine.

“What if I were to put a laundromat in one and an arcade and pool hall in the other? It’s all cash money, practically self-service, and not needing a staff of employees. And no age limit because there is no alcohol, so you pull all the freshman and sophomores wanting a place to hangout and even the high-school seniors wanting to hang around the college crowd.”

Mikhail was leaning into her, resting on his elbow as she laid out her idea.
It all made sense. Vending money was always easy to skim on taxes. “And because it is all cash, I can launder the whiskey profits through them.”

“I like it, I do.
But what will Chris have to say about it?”

“Hey, I’m managing this.
He makes the moonshine, I manage the money.” Rochelle’s pride was smacked by Mikhail suggesting that Chris would have some say on her business venture. She didn’t need a man’s permission to run something.

“Oh, Rochelle, only two shipments and you’re already looking to expand your operations.
I will speak to Peter about the lease. But now, let’s go into Sylvio’s so I can pay you for tomorrow’s shipment.”

Mikhail led Rochelle past the hostess-stand and across the main dining room.
Several families and couples filled the restaurant. Waiters shuffled by wearing black slacks and black vests over white, long-sleeved oxfords with black bow ties. From the vaulted ceiling in the middle of the dining room, a large crystal chandelier was hanging over the mahogany floors―a center piece that drew your gaze to the center of the room and gave the illusion that the room was even bigger than it was.

They made their way through the kitchen and through another service door that led them into the banquet hall.
The hall was forty-feet wide and eighty-feet long. There was a small stage and dance floor at the far end. The dining area was open but for a few tables. The décor of the hall was very elegant.

Ritzy,
Rochelle thought.

Mikhail brought out a large dish of appetizers for the two of them to pig out on.
Deep fried ravioli and marinara sauce, stuffed peppers, fresh cut vegetables and vegetable dip, and a carafe of red wine with two glasses.

As they ate and drank, Rochelle focused on a group of men at a table that was set up in the middle of the hall.
Two Caucasians and two Hispanics sat at the table. Behind the two Caucasians, three more men stood. Two were in their twenties, the other in his forties. One of the Hispanics, a handsome young man, was Rochelle’s age. He had those good looks that made alarm bells ring, warning you not to trust this fox. She had seen him on campus and remembered they had two classes together.

“Mikhail, I know that boy over there.
What’s going on? He isn’t Russian.”

“No, he is not.
His name is Ochoa. His father is a big shot in Mexico. The man talking across from him, that is my brother, Peter. He drove up from Cincinnati just for this meeting. They are working out the details for providing Ochoa with protection while he is attending OSU. It’s nothing.” But it was intriguing to Rochelle. Every time she turned around, something else was happening with Mikhail.

A gesture from Mikhail got her attention.
She looked down at the table and there was an envelope with $50,000. “Put that in your purse, love.”

The money made her uncomfortable.
She didn’t like having all that cash in the city without Chris nearby or a bank account she could deposit it into for safe keeping.

She was finishing off a glass of wine when Peter Rimsky and his party were ending their affairs.
When Damon Ochoa passed by their table, he made eye contact with Rochelle and had a bewildered look on his face. He placed her right away―Wednesday night's philosophy class.