Dmitry's Closet by Nelson, S. (read people like a book .txt) 📕

Business was doing better than well. Dmitry’s Closet had more than quadrupled its profits for the second quarter with clients knocking down the door every morning for a private viewing of the newest collections, special orders from Milan and Moscow and consultations with the new it girl of the Memphis fashion scene.

Royal was a hot commodity, even more sought after now due to a very popular local blog that did a high profile story on her at her $3.5 million home that she shared with tycoon and sexy business man, Dmitry Medlov.

Since the story broke and all of Memphis had seen pic-tures of the two relaxing around town in the hottest night clubs, the finest restaurants, the most elite of circles; Royal had become a notorious figure. One reporter wrote,

“It’s not just that she’s a talented young business woman with a keen eye for fashion, she’s also breathtakingly beautiful. The combination creates the desire to spend money to look like Memphis’ newest princess, Royal Stone.”

Dmitry celebrated their new found success by buying Royal a new X6 BMW, fully loaded in all black and a beautiful Tiffany swing necklace. She had no idea that the platinum chain cost $40,000.

Royal celebrated by purchasing more ad space in the same magazines that tooted her store and increasing her inventory of all things Russian.

She sat reading the newspaper in awe as it boasted about all the celebrity patrons that she was acquiring. Little did they all know that she was on the verge of starving at the first of summer. She closed the newspaper and blew her nose with roll of tissue on the kitchen table. The weather had started to change, and in celebration of that fact, she had acquired a nasty little cold.

Coughing, she made her way across the cold tile floors on her bare feet to the counter to pour another cup of coffee. She sneezed unexpectedly. Quickly trying to cover it, she turned away from the defenseless coffee pot. Germs. Lots and lots of germs. She rubbed her aching head.

Dmitry walked in the kitchen in his silk pajamas bot-toms and bare-chested with an empty cup in hand. His nose was red and his high cheek bones rosy. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her silk silver kimono.

“Good morning, love,” he said, kissing her neck. “I think you gave me flu. Hopefully not H1N1.” He set his black coffee mug in front of her so that she could refill his caffeinated beverage. He coughed a little as he rested at the mesquite-topped table island covered in newspapers.

“No, I think you gave me the flu,” Royal said, pouring him another cup of coffee as well as herself. She walked back over to the table with their cups and sat down.

“So, what are we going to do today?” Dmitry asked, picking up the paper that she had discarded. “These people can’t get enough of you. This is like the tenth paper that you’ve been in this quarter.” He pulled the paper to his face and began to read quietly.

Suddenly there was a quiet gasp from Royal. He pulled the newspaper down to see her sitting with her hand over her mouth looking directly at him.

“What…what is it?” he asked concerned.

“Look, it’s Woodrow Conners.” She grabbed the newspaper.

“Who is Woodrow Conners?”

She read quickly, placing her fingers on the paper. “It’s the guy that I cut with the scissors when I was in foster care.” She looked up at him stunned.

“Oh…that guy. What about him? Did they convict him of trying to rape some other teenager?”

“He was murdered...in the bathroom of a club…cut from ear to ear.”

Dmitry sighed. “Sounds like karma caught up with him.”

Royal was silent.

“You aren’t sad,are you?” He sipped his coffee.

“No. It’s just weird.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“This is Memphis. Someone is killed here all the time - everyday. This is why I tell you to be very careful at shop, not to get too comfortable.”

“I know. I know.” She sighed.

“Well, you have done your thirty seconds of mourning. I do not want to give that pedophile a minute more of my day.”

“You’re right.” Royal pushed the paper away from her. She redirected. “It’s Thanksgiving. I think that we should have a big American dinner together. I won’t work from home, and you won’t work from the restaurant.”

“I don’t work.”

“Well whatever you do.” She leaned over the island and smiled. “Please.” She batted her watery eyes and sniffed, unsure if contagious charm had the same affect.

“You want to have this at the restaurant?” He barely looked up from the front page of the paper. “If so, I can call the girls and make them come in to cook.”

“No. I was thinking that you and I could have dinner here. I could invite Renée, and you could invite Anatoly. We could watch the football game and have some soul food and have a few beers. You know, celebrate the red, white and blue way.”

“Anatoly lives here. How can I invite him to dinner at his own house?”

“You know what I mean.” Royal took a sip of her coffee. The hot burn made her aching throat feel better.

“No, I don’t.”

“I mean that you could insist that he come. If I invite him, I think that he’ll say no.”

“Why would he say no?”

“I don’t’ know? I just get that feeling. I think that he thinks I’m a pest.”

“He won’t say no. You ask him. This will be good communication between you two.” Dmitry sneezed. “Shit.” He grabbed the tissue and blew his own nose. He continued. “And you’re going to fix this American meal?”

“Yep. Renée will help me. I’ll run to Wal-Mart and pick up anything that I don’t’ already have. But I’ think that we’re good.”

“You don’t have to do this. It’s holiday. You’re sup-posed to be getting some rest. Plus, you are sick.”

“I want to,” Royal said, quickly. She walked over to him and slid between his long legs. Wrapping her