Are You an Angel?
W hat else could he do but walk away? The woman he loved was incensed with him over things he could not change, and in her fury, she had unleashed on him a mountain of contempt and blame. Just going into the house away from her insults had not been enough. He had to flee from her presence all together. So, he did as any man would in his position. He focused his attention elsewhere. As it were, he had pressing business with his brother, and he could think of no better time than to fulfill his father’s wishes.
Instead of taking a shower, he jumped in his jeans and T-shirt, still perfumed in chlorine, and headed out with his men.
It was a shame to cut his time with Alexandria short, but he knew if he stayed, she would just witness her parents arguing. Whether Renee knew it or not, he had taken the high road. Sure, he had words for her, words that would shut any wife down, but it would not have truly remedied anything.
As his SUV pulled up to the front of The Southern Table, Anatoly looked out of his tinted window at the restaurant and then checked his watch. The lunch crowd would be coming in soon, but the manager had been contacted by his men and asked to open a little early for a very influential guest, who wanted to dine alone. Of course, at first there was push-back. But after promising to grease the manager’s pockets upon arrival, an agreement was made.
Anatoly, in his anger, figured showing up like a regular guy again was pointless. People seemed to prefer brutal honesty, according to his wife. So, that was what he was going to give. The absolute truth. He would let Anil see him as he really was, a billionaire mobster asshole with an invariable chip on his shoulder, and let the young prince come to his own conclusions. If Anil wanted to accept the Medlov family, fine. If he didn’t, fuck him. He had never promised his father the boy would come to heel, all he said was that he’d meet with him. After this, his obligation would be done.
Opening the door to the Range Rover, Anatoly stepped out in the mid-day sun and stalked into the restaurant with his army of bodyguards in tow. His head was down, brow furrowed, brooding profusely over his argument with Renee. A damp ponytail sat atop his head and his sun-bleached beard itching from dried pool chemicals. In an attempt to be received well, he had splashed on the cologne Renee had just bought him, Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanilla, but ironically ruined the scent with chain-smoking on the way over.
An overly tanned, middle aged man in a black polo shirt and slacks was waiting patiently with his hands in front of him, a few staff closely flanking behind him, all curious about their mysterious guests.
“Welcome, Mr. Medlov,” the manager greeted cheerfully with a car salesman’s cheesy smile. As Anatoly breezed past him without a word, he locked the doors behind the small entourage as he had been directed and escorted Anatoly to a table that had been specially prepared for him.
Anatoly sat down in the chair and cut through the pleasantries. He had no patience for their hospitality. “Bring out your waiter Anil?” he said without looking at the manager.
The manager passed Anatoly a menu, which Anatoly snatched and threw on the table. “Give him his money,” Anatoly ordered Marat.
Without skipping a beat, Marat reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. He stepped toward the manager, who stepped back hesitantly at the tattooed, bearded Slavic.
“We were never here.” Marat reminded grimly, shoving the money into the man’s chest.
“Take the money and bring out the boy,” Anatoly ordered gruffly.
“Of course,” the manager stuttered, taking the money and stuffing it down into his pocket. Their agreement was more than two-weeks’ pay. For that, he’d give them just about anything that they wanted. He glanced over at Anatoly. “Anil will take your order and if you need anything, please let us know.” He disappeared with his staff quickly, whispering as they walked.
A few minutes later, a confused and far less tense Anil emerged from the kitchen area with his notebook in hand, ready to take a food order. The manager had told him little to nothing about this special guest, but when he saw Anatoly, he remembered him from the night before.
“Hey.” Anil smiled warmly. “You’re back so soon?” he asked, walking over to the table. He glanced at the bodyguards sitting at the table across from Anatoly and raised a brow. “And you brought friends,” he quipped.
Marat looked up at Anil in amazement. It was as if they had traveled back in time to a younger Dmitry Medlov. They had the same easy smile, the same strong jaw and muscular build. Anil even walked like the old man. Astounding. He was certain that the family would do their due diligence of a DNA test, but some things were as obvious as day and night. This was definitely the boss’s son.
“Sit down,” Anatoly ordered, pointing to the chair across from him. His words had been more forceful than he meant, so he tried to remove the scowl from his face.
Anil puts his little notebook in his back pocket and dropped the happy-waiter routine. “What’s this about?”
“Sit down, please,” Anatoly said again. His eye twitched as he repeated himself. “I just want to talk to you.”
“Oookay.” This was all very weird for Anil. Nervously, he sat down across from Anatoly and swallowed hard. His mind raced with what the stranger wanted from him. Getting comfortable, he stretched his long legs across the floor and rested an arm on the edge of the table. “What’s going on, man? You didn’t like your food from last night or something?”
Trying to be coy didn’t come off as impressive for Anatoly. He pulled his seat up closer to the table, scrubbing the wood across the floor as he moved. “I’m not here about the food. I’m here about you.” Tapping the table, Anatoly sucked his teeth, face inscrutable. “What I’m about to tell you is not a lie; it’s not a joke. Don’t ask me if I’m serious, because I am. Don’t do any of that cliché shit. Just listen. Do you understand this?”
Anil looked over at Marat and the guns holstered under his arm. What kind of discussion required goons? “Looks like you’re the boss.” He glanced back at Anatoly. “So, tell me what’s on your mind, and I’ll try to not to do anything cliché.” Or that aggravates you, Anil thought to himself.
Such a smart ass.
“My father sent me to find you. He wanted to come himself, but had some pressing business back home that prevented him from being here. So, don’t take me being the representative instead of him as a brush off. This is very important to him.” See, he was using his words. Too bad Renee wasn’t here to witness it.
Anil’s brow rose. “Okay. Who is your father?”
“Dmitry Medlov.” Anatoly watched a wave of emotions wash over Anil’s face. Evidently, he had hit a chord. “Do you know who that is?”
Anil pursed his lips together and took a deep breath. He was half-expecting the guy to offer him a job because of his size. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but this was far more intimate. No one had ever uttered that name to him outside of his mother, and he had never uttered that name to anyone. “Your father is Dmitry Medlov?”
“Yes,” Anatoly answered.
This was the moment where he wanted to ask if Anatoly was serious, but he’d already been warned. “You know, I’ve googled my father. My mom told me his name on a few occasions, but I thought surely not the guy who kept coming up on the search engines. I mean he’s like…rich and mobbed up.” He looked at Anatoly’s tattooed hands again. “And obviously so are you.” He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “But I assumed the Dmitry Medlov I was looking for wasn’t the Dmitry Medlov I had read about.”
“Did you find anyone else in the entire world name Dmitry Medlov?” Anatoly asked, being somewhat of an asshole.
“No. Just the one.”
Anatoly cocked his head to the side. “Exactly.”
Anil scratched his neck nervously. His eyes narrowed fighting tears. “So, he’s my father.” Suddenly, the light in the room seemed different and it was hard to breathe. Remembering his hard existence growing up, it was a slap in the face to know that his father had so many means.
“Yes.”
“And he wants me to do what?” Anil asked with a huff. “Give him a kidney or something?”
Anatoly found the question odd. It was clear that the boy had never been given anything in his life, much like himself. “No. He just wants to meet you soon. He wants you to meet your family. If you knew him, you’d understand.”
“Why now?” Anil asked, thinking of his dying mother and all the suffering she had endured. There were so many times they could have used just a little help from a billionaire. “So, this guy, Dmitry, wants to come around when I’m grown, when I no longer need a father. Now, he wants a fucking reunion? You’ve got to be kidding me?”
Anatoly expected Anil’s response. Any young man would have had the same. “You came across our radar unexpectedly. Someone here saw you and knew from your size and your resemblance that you had to be one of us. They weren’t wrong. My father didn’t know about you before those pictures. Your mother never told him. After he found out who your mother was, he knew for a fact that you were his. He met her down in Trinidad and Tobago. It was a short relationship, and he had no idea that their time together had spawned a child.”
Anil blew a breath out of his mouth. “Well, shit.” He had always imagined what he’d say to his father if he ever met him, but now that he was face-to-face with his brother, he was speechless. Dmitry Medlov didn’t even know that he existed for all those years. How could he be mad at him? Yet he was. He was mad at everyone and everything right now, because life wasn’t fair.
Anatoly pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. “I know it’s a lot, but considering your mother is ill now, it might bring you some comfort.”
“You know about my mother?” Anil scoffed.
“Yes.”
“What else do you know about?” Anil asked, eyes flaming.
“Where you live, where you work, where you go to school. That’s about it. We were hoping to get to know you through you.”
“Why would I want to know you?” Anil asked. “I’ve gotten on so well on my own.” He looked over at Marat again, drawn by the man’s fiery gaze. “Does that guy ever blink? Is he human?”
Anatoly cracked a smile. “No and no,” he said, lighting his cigarette.
“You know, this is a smoke-free restaurant,” Anil said sarcastically.
“Not today. Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We’re your family, yes, but we have no desire to impose on your life and make you do anything you don’t want to do. Tell me what you want the next move to be.”
Anil had tunnel vision, and he had acquired it the moment his mother was diagnosed with her life eater. If anyone was going to benefit from all of this, it was going to be her, or no one at all. “My mother is dying in a shit ass facility on the other side of town. They barely bathe her. They feed her slop. And they don’t know the first thing about a clean workspace. If Dmitry Medlov wants to get to know me, tell him to prove it. Put her somewhere where she can die with some dignity. For that, I’m willing to part with some of my own.” Anil couldn’t believe he was saying it aloud, but what did he have to lose? This guy could walk away and never return or he could change the tide of his mother’s life.
Anatoly drew in on his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly into the air. “So, we went from an introduction to a shake down?”
“He wants something. I want something. It’s more of a negotiation.” Anil rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand. She needs this.” He would never ask for anything for himself, but he might not get this opportunity again for his mother. And he owed her his life.
Anatoly hated when people judged his book by its cover. All anyone ever saw now was the money, never knowing he had grown up dirt poor. “Oh, I understand more than you know. My mother died of lung cancer. It ate at her like buzzards scavenging a carcass. I wasn’t even there to say goodbye. Do you know what that does to a son? The woman who brought you into the world needs you at a time in her life when she can’t even clean her own body, and you’re not there to lift a finger. It’s fucking emasculating.” That was the first time that he had talked about his mother’s end, but Renee had rattled something loose in his mind earlier with her self-righteous yammering.
Anil calmed down. “Sorry. I didn’t know.” He felt bad. Looking down at the table, he shook his head. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“None taken,” Anatoly said nonchalantly. “You want her put in a better place, it’s done. Tell us where you would like for her to go, and she’ll be transferred today. I’ll foot the bill myself.”
Anil looked back up, eyes wide with hope and shame. He had expected this guy to tell him he’d think about his offer, not to pay for it on the spot. “You serious?”
Anatoly scoffed mockingly. “What did I say about that shit?”
Anil threw up his hands. “No clichés. Okay.” He nodded and smiled. “Really, thank you.”
“What are big brothers for?” Anatoly asked, picking up the menu.
The word brother rendered Anil paralyzed. He had never had a big brother, though he had always wanted one. Most of his life had been spent alone with no identity outside of being his mother’s only child. If what they were saying was accurate that would never be the case again.
“You know, I’m not the kind of guy who takes handouts normally,” Anil tried to defend. “I’m not an opportunist. It’s just that my mother is my responsibility…”
Anatoly cut him off. Like he said before, he understood. “Are you hungry?” he asked, moving beyond the moment. He glanced up from the menu and saw a glistening in the young man’s eyes. Not the water works. Emotion made him uncomfortable. Gratitude did the same. He didn’t really need either today.
Anil tried to man-up. He had never had anyone do anything for him before. This was all very new and surreal. “I could eat,” he answered, clearing his throat.
“Good, because so can I.”
Marat stood up and brought over a plastic vile, in it was a white, sterilized long-tipped swab. He placed it on the table and muttered something to his boss in Russian.
Being pre-med, Anil already knew what Anatoly wanted.
“You need to verify, right?” Anil asked, picking up the collection kit without asking.
Anatoly scrubbed a hand through his beard. “My father needs some assurances. You could imagine a man in his position has to go on more than just the fact that you two share the same ugly mug.”
“Like I said, you’re the boss.” Carefully removing the swab, Anil scrubbed the inside of his cheek with the bristles and placed it back into the container. “There you go,” he said, pushing it back over to his brother.
Marat picked up the vile and put it into a small brown envelope.
“And if it comes back with the results that you expect?” Anil asked.
“Then your life changes dramatically.” Anatoly continued to scan the menu. He wasn’t looking at it really, he just needed something to keep him occupied in keeping his emotion at bay.
“How so?”
“Your father is a very influential man. I’m sure he’ll determine that. I’m just your brother. I do what the old man tells me. A word of advice though, don’t take his kindness for weakness.”
Anil had never taken anyone for granted, so that wouldn’t be a problem. But this was his big brother? This guy with his man bun, tattoos, rugged good looks and aristocratic arrogance. In a million years, he would have never assumed such a thing. “So, what’s your name?”
“Anatoly. Medlov.”
Anil had a clever thought. A smile crept over his lips. “Was that really your wife last night?”
Anatoly finally looked up at Anil unsure if his kid brother was joking or not. A moment passed before he answered. “Da. She’s my wife and the mother of my children. So, if you like using those long legs of yours, don’t get any ideas, because I’ll literally cut you down to size.”
Anil chuckled. “Point well taken.”
“Smart man.” He put his hand on the menu and pushed back in the seat now that they had all the hard stuff taken care of. “You got a girl?”
“No. I work. I study. I sleep. That’s my whole life.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Anatoly recalled when things were that easy for him before he fell in love. Back then, he was just a leaf in the wind. Now he was a rooted red tree. Such was the progression of life.
“Being alone all the time gets old. Hell, I’d give anything to have a beautiful woman who cared about me. Your wife looked at you all night like you were made of pure gold. I don’t mean like a gold digger, I mean she looked at you like she really loves you.”
“So, you’re a romantic?” Anatoly asked, half-amused. Their father was also, although he’d never admit it. Dmitry had nearly given up on their entire empire over love, but Anatoly was of the mind that he could have both.
“Every man wants to me loved, right? You mean to tell me you would prefer to be alone?”
“I don’t think we should talk about this anymore.” Anatoly thought about Renee and how she had tried to talk to him earlier. Anil was right. He was lucky, but somehow, he couldn’t get it right with her. He quickly changed the subject. “You work here only?” Anatoly asked.
“No, I just got a job at this new place called The Tide. I’m supposed to start this week. I’ve been bouncing for clubs in South Beach since I got here, but this new spot is probably going to give big tips. All the football players, celebrities and rich people come to the new clubs when they open. It’s a rite of passage. Plus, this upcoming weekend the fighter Klenchvenko is throwing a big promotional party there. I’m going to be working it too. Might meet a pretty girl or something. But I’m definitely going to make some good change. I need it. Gotta buy some new shoes.” Even right then, his feet and shins were killing him, but he still ran this morning.
“Klenchvenko, huh? I know this guy.”
“Really?” Somehow, Anil wasn’t surprised. Anatoly looked like the kind of man who knew a lot of people.
“Yeah.” Anatoly took another drag of his cigarette and glanced at his watch.
“Hey, why don’t you stop by the club Saturday night? I could get you in VIP. We could talk some more and maybe have a drink after.”
“I will.” Anatoly had finally picked something off the menu. “How is the fish and grits?”
“Good,” he answered absently. Suddenly, he had forgotten his happy waiter routine. His mind was overloaded with questions. “What is Dmitry like?” Anil asked, thinking of the articles he had read on the blonde giant.
“He’s…” Anatoly wasn’t good with words. Plus, the chlorine water was starting to irritate him. Sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it, he shrugged. “He’s complicated.”
That didn’t tell Anil much. “When does he want to meet me?”
“Soon.” Anatoly was amazed at how much Anil and his father looked alike. They had the same persistence and off-color humor. If his father had been a hump, this is the type of guy he would have been.
“Do we have any other siblings?” Anil asked, getting excited.
“Yeah, very, very little people. You’ll meet them too, in time.”
“Did you grow up with him?”
“No. I met him when I was eighteen. He didn’t know about me, not really. I came here to America to meet him. First night, I didn’t tell him who I was, but he offered me a job, because that’s the kind of person he is. And then when the time came, I told him who I was.”
“How did he take it?” Anil asked.
“He was moved.” Anatoly remembered the tears in his father’s eyes that night after he had finally revealed his secret. Looking at the white linen tablecloth, he smiled.
Questions, questions, and more questions. Anatoly should have expected it, but he was not ready to go all the way down memory lane just yet.
Anil was quite the opposite.
“Family is a very important thing. It’s the one thing that you can’t buy or replace.” Anil thought of his mother. “I’d give anything to have my mother healthy again. That woman is all I’ve ever known. I mean, we were fucking dirt ass poor, but she tried her best. Now, she barely recognizes me anymore. One day we were making plans and then next, she’s pulling out hair in her comb from chemo and eating a cocktail of horse pills. We’re talking about a woman who wasn’t afraid to do anything in her youth. To see someone diminished so much is heart breaking. When she’s gone, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. This is my mother, you know. How the fuck do you replace your mother? How the fuck do you just accept something so cruel?” He tapped his fingers on the table, drowned in the idea that her prayers for him to find happiness had been answered but only after she’d never have a chance to enjoy it with him. “Man, fuck cancer.”
“Yeah, fuck cancer,” Anatoly agreed. This young man had said more words in the last few minutes than he had said in the last month. Why was it so easy for some people to simply vomit up their emotions so easily?
Anil’s arched brow hiked up. “You don’t say much, do you?”
Marat laughed at that. “He’s just now catching on, this fucking Chatty Cathy over here.”
Anatoly smirked at Marat’s outburst. They were all hardened men. “He’s just a kid,” he said, excusing Anil. But he liked him. He was genuine and unassuming, and more importantly, he was honest. Through the years, he had dealt with a lot of men in his job. Judging people’s character was how he stayed alive. And he knew this was his father’s son, and he was a good person. So instead of just blocking up and saying just enough to get by, Anatoly did something remarkable – he opened up as well.
“To answer your question about how to deal with your mother, you die a little bit inside. I can’t pretend about that, but you keep living, because you know it’s what she would have wanted. They sacrifice everything for us. They love us unconditionally. They do anything to keep us safe. But they cannot. We’re men. It’s our place to go out in the world. And when they leave us behind in this fucking wretched place, it’s like they rip out a piece of your heart and take it with them. But you live for their memories and their dreams. You make their life mean something.”
The entire room was so silent one could have heard a pin drop. Anatoly never spoke at length, and he absolutely never spoke about his mother or his feelings about her death.
Even Marat was shocked that Anil had pulled it out of his boss, and he could see that the raw emotion was palpable.
Anil let a tear drop down his cheek. It had been so long since he had someone to talk to about it. “She prayed every day until she stopped being able to speak. I bet she prays even now in her head. She kept begging God to send me my purpose in life and send angels to protect me.” He swallowed hard and darted his eyes away from Anatoly, hoping not to sound too much like a dope. “I’m a man. I can take care of myself, but it would sure be nice not to have to walk in this world alone, Anatoly. Maybe she was praying for me to find you and my family. No man is an island, right? I mean, family is what this whole world is about.”
“Money is what this world is about,” Anatoly countered. “Family is what man is all about, but da, da, you’re right. No man is an island. There is very little you can get done without someone helping you.” He glanced at Marat. “You just have to have the right people in your corner.”
Anil played with the napkin. “Yeah, but you have your wife, right? She helps you through it. She gave you babies, man. That’s cool. I don’t have that. I’m alone.”
“No. You’re not alone anymore.” Anatoly could at least promise him that.
“I appreciate it.”
“Please, for the love of God, don’t mention it anymore. It’s like sitting on the couch with that chick on TV that makes everyone cry.”
“You mean, Oprah.”
“Yeah, her.” Anatoly laughed and scratched the tip of his nose. “Hey, you like working here?”
Anil thought that was an odd question. “I mean, it pays the bills. I’m on scholarship at the University, but I have expenses and my mom needs hygiene products and…”
Anatoly waved a dismissive hand. “Do you want to work here?”
“No,” Anil answered, unsure of where this was going. “But I don’t think I’m equipped to do what these guys do.” He wasn’t exactly a fan of guns and Marat’s shiny weapons made him nervous.
“Trust me. I would never ask you to do what those guys do. Unless I wanted you to talk someone to death.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills.”
“Wait,” Anil tried to protest. “I don’t need this. You’re already taking care of my mother.”
“Hey,” Anatoly stopped him. “You don’t get a say in this.” As far as Anatoly was concerned, when his father found out about Anil, they should have started taking care of his mother. So, this was just a little reimbursement. He looked over at his men. “Empty out your pockets.”
All of them quickly pulled cash from their wallets and gave it to their boss. Anatoly counted it and pushed it over on the table to his brother. “You make two hundred dollars a week here.”
“On a good week,” Anil said, looking at the tall stack of bills. He didn’t ask for this. The last thing he wanted was Anatoly to think he was incapable of taking care of himself.
“First, forget your fucking pride. My father gave me a lot more than this. I’m doing you a small, very small favor. This is five thousand dollars. It’s not much, but after we eat these shrimp and grits, I want you to quit and never come back here. You can keep your bouncing job. A man needs an outlet, especially one where occasionally he can kick someone’s ass. But I don’t like that ass kissing manager back there. He smiles too much and I doubt he can keep a secret.”
“A secret?” Anil asked confused.
“You can’t tell anyone that you’re my father’s son. It’s not safe. When he gets here, he’ll decide how to handle things.”
“Who would care about me being his son?”
“Everyone,” Anatoly said sternly. “Which is why you’re not going to say a word. Just eat your meal, go back there and tell that manager to fuck off.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” Anil picked up the money. He had never held five thousand dollars in his hands before. “Are you sure?”
“Anil. I’m fucking sure. Don’t ask me again.”
“Alright.” He put the money in his pocket. “Can I at least say thank you without pissing you off.”
“No,” Anatoly said with a grin. “But if you want to show your gratitude, go on and be a doctor so I’ll have a personal physician.”
“So, you know I want to be a doctor?” Anil was proud.
“Yes, I know things.” He thought of his brothers back in Moscow and how they had shunned him, not because his mother had asked them to, but because they were ashamed and jealous of him. All he had in the world outside of his father’s children was, Anastaysia and she was nowhere to be found. If God was answering prayers, then maybe Anil had been sent to fill a void in his own life. Maybe he’d find his own purpose. It was the way the young man looked at him, though that unnerved him, with such admiration and pride. His other brothers had never looked at him like that. How could he not try to help Anil if he could.
“You’re alright, Anatoly,” Anil said, standing up.
“Wait till you get to know me first.”
“I’m going to go and get everyone something to eat. I’ll be back.” Anil walked off, standing taller than before. A weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, a miracle performed. He felt like a new man.
But at that moment, it was Anatoly who had experienced a breakthrough. His wife had only tried to get him to do what he had just done at this table with this stranger – open up. If she had not pushed him, he might have shown up here with a completely different attitude. He owed this small success to her as he did everything. But his repayment of her gift had been cruel.
“After we leave here, I need to go back to the house and see my wife,” Anatoly said to Marat.
“Yes, Boss,” Marat answered, glad that he was going to fix things with Renee. “And send someone to sort of look out for Anil until my father gets here. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“I’ve got a guy. I’ll send him today,” Marat answered.
Anatoly put his elbow on the table and propped his chin up with his hand. “I fucked up, Marat.”
“She’ll forgive you.” Marat assured. “She loves you.” He had spent plenty of time with his boss’s wife and it was clear that she would do anything to please Anatoly. But she was also his conscience. Had he not had her in his life, Anatoly would have been a much lonelier, harder person.
“You only get a few chances with women like that. I don’t want to strike out. If she hates the fucking house, fine, we’ll fix that. Call someone who can put it on the market. Find us somewhere else to be in the next few days. I don’t care how much it costs. I just…I’ll tell you want I really want. I want to pay Destiny Palmer a fucking visit.”
“We can do that too,” Marat answered flatly.
“No. Renee would only kick my ass for that too.” Anatoly huffed. “What a day.”