Dmitry smiled deviously. “You should sit over here with me and let me kiss your lips too,” Dmitry said scooting over. He rubbed the leather seat.
“What?”
“Just kidding,” Dmitry said quickly. “Hey, you were saying okay to everything… had to try.”
They both laughed, but Royal did not move from her seat. In fact, she sat with her eyes directly on Dmitry watching his every move.
They arrived at the restaurant soon after. Dmitry had arranged for his staff to stay late and cook a huge Russian meal for Royal. The two of them ran out of the rain from the car, while Anatoly pulled the limo to the back.
They were met at the front door by two red-headed young waitresses, barely in their twenties, dressed in all black and holding menus. As Royal ran in, she stopped amazed at the romantic transformation.
Dmitry had a single, intimate table set up in the back with a beautiful golden candelabra full of blood-red candles, golden table settings and a large bouquet of red roses. The rest of the restaurant was covered in candles as well.
Royal turned to Dmitry for an explanation, but he only smiled and escorted her to her seat with his large hand placed carefully at the base of her small back. He sat her down in the seat, pushed her up to the table and kissed her forehead.
The staff scurried about ensuring that everything was perfect, while Dmitry went behind the bar and brought back two glasses and a bottle of champagne.
“More Cristal?” he asked, raising the bottle.
“Dmitry, what is this about? Why could this date not have waited? It’s raining cats and dogs out tonight, and you’re frolicking around like its noon and sunny.”
“First of all, I do not frolic. I thought that we had this discussion. Secondly, time waits for no man – not even me. This afternoon you agreed to go out. I thought about it all day after. I couldn’t even focus on my evening. So, I cancelled. I…didn’t want opportunity to pass, and so I came for you. End of discussion.”
“All this for your shop girl?” Royal asked, impressed.
“My shop girl is best girl that I know.”
Royal appreciated that. Her smiled showed it.
“What are you thinking about?” Dmitry finally asked.
“I wonder… how old you are?”
He laughed. “How old do I look?” He stared in her eyes as he sat across from her.
“I don’t know. I want to say that you’re in your thir-ties.”
“Barely. I’m thirty-nine,” Dmitry informed her.
“That old?”
“I don’t consider that old.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t,” Royal said, smirking. “So let’s flip the script, shall we? Tell me. Why don’t you have a family?”
“I have my reasons – most of them deal with my life-style,” he looked up at her and paused, stopping his sentence in mid thought. “You and I. We are very much a like, eh?”
“No, we’re not.” Royal continued. She could clearly see he was hiding something. “You never talk about a mother, father, sister, brother. No one. I never see you around anyone except Anatoly and the men from the shop. You have no wife, no steady girlfriend…”
“It’s funny that you don’t have any of these important people either.”
“Yeah, but I was an orphan for most of my life. Then a family adopted me, mostly because they need a babysitter. When I turned eighteen, I went to college, and I only call them now once a month to check on them, because I think that is what family is suppose to do. Otherwise, I have no one. I’m alone in this world. Now, why don’t you?”
“Same story, really, different time. Well, I grew up in Moscow on streets. The people there became my only family. When I came to America as young man, I was a lot like you. I had no time for anything that was not delivering immediate profit.”
“You never knew your mother, either?” The rest of Dmitry’s statement was lost on Royal.
“Barely, she died when I was very young. Then, I went to prison very young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Royal said, realizing his story was as pathetic as hers. “You know, I’ve never had either, but I’m willing to bet that it’s harder to grow up with out a mom than a dad?”
Dmitry didn’t answer. It was if as such a thought had not crossed his mind either way.
Royal continued. “What about your father?”
“I only know what I was told about him by men in prison and on streets. From what they say, he wasn’t worth talking about.”
“What did you go to prison for?”
“I was thief. Moscow gets cold in winter. I had to make life for myself at first. Besides I only spent a few years inside. Not so bad.”
“Not a thief by choice, then. You had to survive.”
“I moved passed simply surviving by the time that I was 15. I’m afraid that I just enjoyed it. What about you? Have you ever been to jail, Royal?”
“No. I’ve been close.” Royal bit her lip. “It was a petty domestic dispute when I was a teenager. My foster mom’s boyfriend tried to feel me up in bathroom one night, so I cut his ear off.”
“Petty?” Dmitry laughed. “Rape is hardly a petty crime.” The thought of Royal being raped infuriated him, but he tried hard to conceal it.
“What was worse was that I had to get the damn cops to believe that it was actually attempted rape and assault. He said that I wanted it.” She shook her head. “He was such a jerk. I had to show them the choke marks around my neck to prove that I wasn’t lying.”
“He choked you?”
“In truth, he was kicking my ass, but I got a hold of the scissors and managed to cut him.” She formed her fingers together like a pair of scissors and smiled.
“What was his name?”
“Woodrow Conners,” she chuckled. “Such a lame name.”
“Here in Memphis?”
“Yeah.”
Dmitry was silent for a minute.
“Really, I’m okay. I’ve got thick skin,” she continued.
“What did your foster mother say about you nearly
