Good Intentions (Samogon 1) (12 page)

After the Ochoas left, Peter came over and started talking to Mikhail in Russian.
“You shouldn’t bring her here unannounced like this. It is none of her business to see such meetings, even if she doesn’t know what it is about.”

Rochelle could see by the look on Mikhail’s face that he was being criticized for something.

“You are reckless at times, little brother. Pussy gets the best of you.”

“I brought her here because she wants to lease the two storefronts and run a couple vending operations out of them.
Something that would allow her to launder the
samogon
money.”

Peter looked down at Rochelle and studied her.
She was absolutely breathtaking. He could see how she could bewitch his little brother with her beauty. She looked like she knew how to carry herself in front of men and strangers, but that was yet to be seen.

He extended his hand to her and spoke English.
“I am Peter Rimsky, Mikhail’s brother. Forgive me if I am direct and not hospitable this evening. I am very tired from a long drive and having to meet with people I don’t care to meet with.”

Rochelle stood, smiling, and shook his hand firmly but ladylike.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rimsky. Nice to meet one of Mikhail’s relatives.”

Peter sat on the opposite side of Rochelle, away from Mikhail.
“Please, call me Peter. Mikhail says you are interested in the two storefronts. I will tell you about them. One is two thousand square feet and the other is forty-two hundred square feet. Commercial real estate is not a good market right now. I have no prospects for the properties. Empty, I make nothing. If you show me a business plan and convince me you can turn a profit, I will lease both properties to you for $6,500 a month.”

“Okay …
Peter
. I will put a package together for you this week.”

Rochelle couldn’t believe it.
Just a few minutes ago she was just brainstorming, and now, she was being asked to put a business plan together. She never once considered if things were moving too fast.

“Good.
Mikhail will reach me when you are ready.” And just like that, he stood up to leave. “Now, forgive me Ms. Donovan, but I must go.”

Not one word to her about the moonshine.
Not one word about the two prior shipments or the future ones. If he didn’t have to talk about it, he didn’t talk about it. As he left, Rochelle noticed three well-built men in suits that looked like bodyguards. One led Peter Rimsky out, the other two followed closely behind.

It was almost midnight when she entered Paterson Hall.
As she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, she pulled out her cell phone and called Chris. No answer—straight to voice mail. “Hey, baby, it’s your favorite girl. I want you to know I’ve got that, and you are good for this weekend. Call me.” Rochelle was surprised he didn’t pick up for her. She knew on Friday nights he would still be awake. He wouldn’t be at the farm, but he was usually at home or in town watching a movie.

Eight-fifteen Monday morning Rochelle was off for class. She had fifteen minutes to cut across campus and pass through the concourse to get to her English writing class. Between her ten-thirty accounting class and her one o'clock government class, she planned on heading to First National Bank of Columbus. She had opened a personal checking account there on her first day while her mother and Chris were still in town.

She had one hour to get to the bank, obtain a safety deposit box, drop the fifty grand in it, and get back to campus for class.

***

Saturday morning came and Chris handed off forty barrels of white lightening to a crew of Russians with no problem.
Like before, he watched as the Russians dropped blue dye in the barrels and slapped stickers to the barrels identifying the contents as windshield wiper fluid.

He phoned Rochelle to let her know all was well.
“Hey, baby girl.”

“Hey, big man, you missing me already?”

“I thought I would let you know that it’s done, no problem.”

“That’s good.
How’s mom doing?”

“She’s okay.
She misses you, but hopes you’re not planning on bringing home any dirty laundry for her to wash.”

Rochelle laughed.
“Speaking of laundry, I’ve got another proposal to talk to you about.”

“Shit, Rochelle.
What are you up to now?”

“Money.
Just another business like Donovan Delights. I’ve got an actual opportunity to open a cash vending company—a laundromat and an arcade. I need you to come up for a few days and do some electrical work and plumbing.”

Chris was skeptical.
“You’re flashing too much money. It isn’t necessary, baby. Why can’t you just keep the cash in a deposit box? How are you going to have time for school and manage two businesses?”

“They’re next door to one another and they run themselves for the most part.
But it gives me another place to hide all that Russian money.”

“Well, I can drive up this Saturday.”

“Perfect. I have a rush party with the Sigma Alpha Chi sorority Friday night. We’ll have all weekend together.”

***

After classes and studying, Rochelle worked on her business plan for Peter Rimsky. When she finished, she gave Mikhail a call. “Hey, it’s Rochelle. I’ve got the business plan your brother wanted. When can I meet with him?”

“Why don’t you come by Sylvio’s tonight, say seven o'clock?”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

When Rochelle arrived, she was ushered to the banquet room where a table was set up for two people.
“Mikhail will join you shortly, Ms. Donovan,” said the young hostess. Rochelle was confused, thinking she was meeting Peter. A waiter appeared with a carafe of red wine and poured her a glass. “Ms. Donovan, Mr. Rimsky has already ordered for you.”

“Okay, thank you.”
What a showoff
, she thought.

It wasn’t until after Rochelle finished her salad that Mikhail arrived.
“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay.
Where is Peter?”

“First we eat, then you sell me on your plan.
If you can do that, don’t worry about Peter.”

After they enjoyed their smoked brisket, Rochelle presented her plan.
Mikhail filled their wine glasses then studied what she charted out. With the college traffic and surrounding high schools, she projected her income would be $9,000 monthly. Mikhail noticed that she wasn’t including any financing for renovations.

“I plan on having Chris help me with that.
After all, he’ll be a partner in this,” she said.

“Yes, I should have known that.
Well, love, I can tell you that Peter will have no problem with it. When do you want a tour?”

“Saturday night.
I’ll get Chris up here and he’ll know what he has to do to get it ready.”

***

He arrived Friday evening, a day early. As Chris checked into the Comfort Inn, he saw two girls who looked like prostitutes. Two teenage girls with an eastern-European look, dressed in short skirts and halter tops. If their look didn’t give them away, the muscular guy sitting in the lobby did.

The guy had that same Russian look about him as all of Mikhail’s crew.
He appeared to be the girls’ pimp. He pretended to be reading a magazine but it was obvious he was watching everyone coming and going. The Russian stared Chris up and down as Chris exited the lobby and headed to his room.

Once in his room, Chris looked out the window across the parking lot.
He could see Sylvio’s restaurant and the Brickyard nightclub. Sylvio’s was starting to get busy with the Friday night dinner crowd. Traffic was slow for the nightclub, but in a couple of hours Chris suspected it would be packed wall to wall.

After taking a hot shower, Chris walked along the storefronts observing the foot traffic.
He found the two storefronts that Rochelle had talked about and peered through the windows.
Not bad,
he thought. Chris couldn’t see a lot, but he could sense there wouldn’t be too much utility work.

He finished a few double cheeseburgers at a McDonald’s and headed back to his hotel room.
He left a voice message for Rochelle, figuring she was being sized up by a bunch of sorority girls before being asked to pledge.

At ten o'clock Chris headed over to the Brickyard.
He paid a five-dollar cover to get in and could see that the club was generating $4,000 easily just getting through the door, and it was still early.

Rob Zombie blasted from the club’s sound system.
Over eight hundred people filled the club. Several people crowded the dance floor. The DJ’s booth was elevated almost eight feet above the dance floor anointing the DJ as he mixed tracks throughout the night. Chrome rails and pipes flowed through the club in a maze, guiding patrons from one area to another. An elaborate arrangement of stage lights flashed from the ceiling.

The city of Columbus was not known for its highlife.
Next to live shows at the Newport, the Brickyard was the most popular club. Chris strolled over to one of the three bars and ordered a double Jim Bean. He stayed at the bar and watched everyone as they interacted. It wasn’t long before he spotted waitresses and barbacks selling drugs inside the club. Cocaine, ecstasy, meth―the Russians were making money hand over fist.

Saturday morning, Chris and Rochelle spent their time together inspecting the utilities and interior of the storefronts.
There wasn’t too much to do. The plumbing for the laundromat and the kitchen for the arcade were the only obstacles. By mid-afternoon Chris knew what he would need to give Rochelle fourteen washers. She would have to do without walk-in coolers in the arcade’s kitchen and settle for regular refrigerators.

“I spent some time in that club of th
eirs and I saw what’s going on. I’m telling you, this kid is bad for you, and bad for us. There isn’t any need for these businesses. You don’t want our cash tied-down in Rimsky real estate when things go bad for them. Why can’t you just stash the cash somewhere and let it be?”

“Chris, we’re talking about a million dollars for the first year alone.
It would be stupid to have that much dirty money laying around.”

“Why can’t you just launder it back through Donovan Delights?”

“And how do I justify selling that much candy and pastries when I’m away at school and not running the company? Chris, will you help me or not?”

That following week, Chris returned and with the help of a couple of Mikhail’s crew, he finished all the renovation in just three days.
Richard Donovan had taught him well.

With Mikhail’s help, Rochelle was able to get good deals purchasing fairly new washing machines and dryers.
The vending machines she purchased outright. The collection of arcade games and pool tables she acquired with a loan instead of leasing them from a vendor. She had her attorney, James Bowers, register her new business under the name Donovan Vending, another limited liability company. Rochelle was identified as the CEO and as the primary investor of Westport Laundromat and Hazer’s Arcade.

After a quick inspection, she had her food permit along with her beer and wine license, which were put in one of the Rimskys' name until she was twenty-one.

Word of mouth and social media spread news of the laundromat, and almost overnight it was jammed with college kids and all their dirty clothes. Rochelle was right on the money with the traffic that would be generated. Soon thereafter, Hazer’s was filled to capacity every Thursday night through Sunday evening. The high-schoolers were crowding the arcade as much as, if not more than, the college crowd. Traffic in both storefronts were so high that laundering the moonshine profits wasn’t going to be a problem.

For the next few months, Chris continued distilling the white lightening and Mikhail’s crew continued to ship it.
For every other shipment, Chris was able to add another one thousand gallons for a three thousand gallon shipment and an extra $25,000.

With the help of Middleton, Bowers and Lowe, Rochelle had set up an accounting system and portfolio that rivaled a small S&P Index.
She spent her evenings in the laundromat’s back office managing both stores and studying for school.

While Rochelle held down the fort at the laundromat, Mikhail's man, Paavo Nureyev, ran Hazer’s.
He was one of Peter Rimsky’s crew. Paavo ran security and handled the sports’ book out of the Westport area, while his brother Ivan ran the operations out of Kelso’s. Rochelle knew from the arrangement at Kelso’s to turn a blind eye and let the Rimskys run their book.

Around eleven o'clock each night, she would return to the dorm after making the night deposits.
She was always quiet coming in so she wouldn't wake Alexis. Her roommate loved having the dorm to herself in the evenings. Alexis took advantage of Rochelle’s absence and would invite her boyfriend over as often as possible. A shoestring would hang from the doorknob to let Rochelle know Alexis' boyfriend was in the dorm.