Good Intentions (Samogon 1) (15 page)

The next day, Mikhail came by the laundromat and spoke with Rochelle. “I must apologize, love. I did not mean to offend you with my words last night or to be so aggressive.”

Until now, Rochelle hadn’t thought of what he said about Chris.
In the heat of it all the insult had simply become part of the game they played.

Mikhail continued, “I do not want you to think ill of me.
I do have feelings for you and I do not wish to compete with anyone for your affection.”

Rochelle wasn’t ready for this conversation.
She once told Chris that maybe she needed a boyfriend and, yet, she hadn’t committed. Now Mikhail was wanting the same thing. There was more at stake with Mikhail―thousands and thousands of dollars.

She also knew that if she committed to Mikhail, Chris would cease to cooperate with the distilling.
If that happened, Mikhail would be out a source of supply and she would be out of money. She quickly changed the subject.

“I think you might want to know I am in the middle of establishing a way to produce more moonshine.
A
lot
more. Maybe more than you can handle.”

Mikhail laughed at her claim.
“Now what are you planning?”

“I’m just looking into a new angle of production, something that will increase my production
tenfold.”

Mikhail was intrigued.

***

Christmas at the Donovan’s wasn’t the same with Richard gone.
It was a sore reminder of his passing. With Chris’ help, the two women made it through. Both breakfast and dinner were large spreads. Louise held nothing back.

Louise had invited Reverend Paul and his family for dinner.
Rochelle’s friend Leah had made it, and Chris was there as well. The evening felt more like Christmas with people in the house.

Rochelle’s gift from Chris was a Rolex Oyster Perpetual Lady-Datejust watch, an elegant gold watch with diamonds.
He knew how much she loved watches, and it was the one accessory or piece of jewelry that she had always lacked.

“Chris, I promise you, I will not wear any other watch.
I love it.” She gave him a loving hug and a long slow kiss.

Chris was hoping that watch would stay with her wherever she went.
Although Rochelle had said nothing about Mikhail and his brothers, Chris watched cable news and wasn’t completely in the dark. He had seen the news coverage of the shootout in New York and heard the name “Rimsky.”

Chris wasn’t going to sit idly by while Rochelle was away with a Rimsky and not know where she was if she ever needed him.
The watch had one small modification, a small satellite chip on the inside.

Chris entered into a service contract with a satellite provider to track the watch like tracking
an automobile. From his smartphone he could always access the site, punch-in his account, and have a triangular fix on the watch’s location. Of course it only worked if Rochelle was wearing the watch. Just like VIPs, CEO’s, and government leaders, Rochelle was going to have some safeguards from kidnapping and the like.

Seeing them kiss led Leah to realize Rochelle was keeping secrets.
She cornered Rochelle in the kitchen away from everyone else and questioned her. “Excuse me, when were you going to tell me about Chris?”

“What do you mean?” asked Rochelle, trying to seem confused.

“Are you really going to stand there and tell me nothing is up?”

Rochelle couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
“I don’t know what to say. He and I have always been on and off … I guess. But since dad died, it has gotten more serious.”

***

The foyer of the O’Dwyer mansion was filled with a ten-foot pine tree. Lights wrapped around the base of the tree spiraling up to where the most colorful electric star sat atop. Ornaments that the O’Dwyer children had made throughout their childhoods hung from the limbs along with other majestic decorations and frills.

Almost everyone in the O’Dwyer clan were home for the holidays, all except Jennifer’s father.
Several of their friends from high school were there, many accompanied by girlfriends and boyfriends. Rochelle was surprised to see two of her former classmates already pregnant―one married, the other with an indifferent boyfriend.

As the night progressed, Rochelle was finally able to meet up with Luke Gentry.
He was eager to speak with her after seeing her pull up in her flashy Mercedes-Benz.

“Merry Christmas, Luke.”
Rochelle gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Luke smiled, eager to know what the sudden interest in him was.
“Merry Christmas to you, too. I couldn’t help but notice your sweet little ride. Big upgrade from that old Nissan of yours.”

Luke was never part of the old clique.
He always seemed standoffish and at times angry, but everybody treated him kindly and invited him to all the parties. Whenever he would show up he always seemed to have enjoyed himself.

“I was surprised when you called and said you wanted to talk to me.
What can
I
do for
you
?”

Rochelle could see that he was pretty lit from drinking but was in a cheerful mood.
“I wanted to talk to you about distilling.”

He smiled and responded sarcastically, “Thinking about opening a distillery, are you?”

Rochelle laughed. “No. I want to partner with you and sell alcohol.”

“Well, you would have to speak with my uncle if you are wanting to be a wholesaler.
I thought you were in college?”

“I am.
I’m at Ohio State and running a couple of businesses and making good money. That’s how I was able to afford that sweet ride.”

Rochelle wasn’t sure how to pitch it to Luke, so she just came out and said it.
“Look, Luke, what I’m looking for is a way to produce thousands of gallons of grain alcohol as fast as I can and export it. I need someone like you to school me and hook me up with the equipment. And in return, I’m willing to go sixty-forty. I can take care of all the operating expenses, but I need someone like
you
who can brew and supply the stills.”

“Rochelle, it sounds fascinating, it really does.
Yeah, I can brew grain alcohol with no problem. I learned how to do that when I was twelve. But to teach someone like you overnight, it isn’t going to happen. Do you know how long it would take to teach you while you drive back and forth from college? Besides, you have to be here managing the process. It’s not like baking cookies.”

“But what if I were to tell you I already have a guy who knows how to brew one thousand gallons at a time of white lightening?
Would you be more interested then?”

“A lot of guys can brew moonshine, but very few can produce quality liquor.
Most of that shit is pure poison.”

“It’s time to open your Christmas present.
Come on.” Rochelle led Luke into Jennifer’s bedroom for a little privacy.

Luke ripped through the wrapping and opened a gift-box containing three etched-glass bottles sealed with oak corks
―a pint of white lightening, a pint of apple cider and a pint of apricot brandy. Rochelle found the bottles at a glass shop when she was in Lexington. Also in the gift-box was a large hickory-smoked beef sausage she picked up from a specialty meat store, and a two-pound block of sharp cheese.

“I guess you are going to tell me that this is what your friend brewed?”

“You betcha. You’re going to like it all, I know it. We’ve been making a ton of the stuff and exporting it instead of selling it around here.”

Luke was impressed with the white lightening.
“Yeah, that’s good shit. But my family doesn’t make moonshine, Rochelle. So, let’s have it. What are you wanting to do?”

“What happened to your family’s distillery here after making the move to Lexington?”

“Operations were shut down and now, everything is distilled in Lexington. There are four stills here that haven’t been used in ten years. I imagine they need a little work to get them operational. We use the warehouse now for storage and as a shipping hub. My uncle has me managing the warehouse, so I know everything that goes on there. There are only four employees and a bit of freight traffic in and out of the dock.”

“Four employees are manageable.
I don’t want a lot of people in on this. So, can two guys, say you and my guy, distill grain alcohol without any problem, and be able to barrel it, load it, and truck it out without anyone asking questions?”

Luke started laughing at what Rochelle was proposing.
“Yeah,
maybe
. Sounds like you want to distill off the books and skim taxes. But how much are you wanting to brew at a time?”

“Whatever those stills can produce.”

“The stills are twenty-five hundred gallons each. That’s ten thousand gallons. They’re fairly old continuous stills. Two of them need their perforated plates replaced or the water vapor won’t condense while the alcohol vapors pass through. The plates are important; they serve as a series of small pot stills to assure that the concentration of alcohol in the vapor is correct and that the liquid escaping at the bottom of the still has been stripped of any alcohol.”

“So, fix the stills, and
let’s brew ten thousand gallons a week.”

Luke kicked back on the bed, resting against the headboard, eying Rochelle.
“Tell me what you plan to do with all this.”

“Distill it, barrel it up in fifty gallon barrels, ship it to my building, wait for someone to come get it, they pay us $150,000 cash, and they ship it out.
Sixty-forty split. You take $60,000 a shipment for three million a year. Share it with your uncle or keep it for yourself, I don’t care.”

“And all I have to do is supply the stills and a place to distill, you’re covering
all
costs, is that right?

“Yep.”

“You’re doing this now with the moonshine?”

“Yep, six thousand gallons a month.”

“Exporting, not reselling locally or nationally?”

“Russia.”

A wild grin appeared on Luke’s face. “Well, it all sounds very plausible. You know my uncle pays me only $35,000 a year. I can do pretty much everything in the business but he only allows me to manage the warehouse and do inventory. I was doing that three years ago for minimum wage. The most excitement I get from him is when he lets me tag along with the sales team to bars and restaurants for sales promotions, and I can hook-up with some barmaid or waitress for the night. I do get to see some good bands perform from time to time.”

Rochelle didn’t know a lot about Luke’s personal life, but it sounded like he was about to lay it out for her.
She didn’t try to stop him, she was curious about his past. She also wanted to know if he was a loose cannon or stable enough to work with Chris and her.

“My uncle hates my father
—blames him for my mom’s passing years ago. Truth is, mom was plagued with cancer. Dad just wasn’t man enough to deal with her dying and couldn’t stomach being at her side waiting for her to die and not being able to stop it. Dad would work seven days a week, long hours, whatever he could that would keep him away so he wouldn’t have to face mom’s deterioration. Taking care of her fell on me and my little brother. Can you imagine what that was like for a teenager? Now you know why I was so bitter through school.”

Luke took a deep breath and a big swig of Rochelle’s white lightening.
“So, my uncle doesn’t allow my dad to be directly active in the family business―punishment for failing my mom."

“I’m sorry to hear that, Luke.
It’s a sad story I never knew.”

“I don’t think anyone knew.
Anyway, I don’t really care for my uncle or how he treats my dad, or how he has never expressed any sympathy to me or my brother for all we went through.” Luke started laughing and took another swig of the white lightening. “Well, if I’m going to be in the family business and be in charge of the Ashland warehouse, I guess I should see to it that the warehouse is profitable.”

Rochelle smiled and let out a small laugh herself.

“So, you’re on," said Luke. "Give me a couple of weeks to square things away and to repair the plates on the stills.”

“Great.
Get me a list of what we need so I can get the cash ready.”

“Are you sure you’re not forgetting to tell me something or overlooking an important aspect?”
asked Luke.

“Like what?”

“You might be
paying
for all the operational expenses, but Gentry Distilling, not Rochelle Donovan, has to actually
purchase
all the grain, yeast and sugar.”

“I know that.
I’m doing something similar now with all the sugar I buy for the moonshine. Every aspect has to look legit.”