Dirty Passions

by Wright, Kenya

  At some point, the brotherhood should invest in Brioni. We sure wear the designer a lot.

  Most of the brotherhood’s prominent funerals occurred in Russia. Handling of arrangements was difficult. Even after death, the thugs didn't mingle. Each gang buried its own in a different cemetery.

  Although bullet holes tended to fill the corpses, they served as lavish and elaborate events. Instead of hearses, polished armored personnel carriers transported the coffins were transported. Huge bands performed the farewell ceremonies.

  Each funeral was more outrageous than the last. Military guards and mountains of flowers. Usually, there were more than a hundred cars in the procession, displaying a never-ending line of expensive, foreign-made automobiles. Dozens of beautiful women in eye-catching outfits turn out to bid tearful farewells and search for other single gangsters. Celebrities from sports, entertainment and politics tend to be among the throng of mourners.

  Since this is in Prague, how will Misha handle his father’s ceremony? Surely, Uncle Igor left instructions in his will, but how much of them will my cousin actually follow?

  With Harlem in tow, Emily and I left the plane and headed to the castle.

  Our limo zoomed through Prague and went up the crooked, quiet path that led to a rocky road rising into mountains. When my mother taught me how to drive, she would take me on this road. Back and forth, I would speed around, crashing two cars in my lessons on that sharp, curvy path running into tangled woods.

  Emily squeezed my hand. “How are you doing?”

  “Not bad. I think I made peace with my uncle’s death the night he was killed. These next days are for the living to celebrate his life and console the ones that loved him.”

  We approached the castle on the cliffs—stone and stained windows. Bonfires dotted the front as was customary at the castle, when someone passed. Tons of cars surrounded it. Other cars were driving to the front and letting guests out.

  Emily gazed out of the window. “Lots of people arriving. Is it all family?”

  “Not blood relatives. My Uncle Igor lost his parents at a young age. My mother’s parents unofficially adopted them. Later, my mother met my father because he was my uncle’s best friend. In the end, Uncle Igor’s family was the brotherhood.”

  “That’s how you all became unofficial cousins?”

  “Exactly.”

  Our limo passed the line of cars and continued toward the back. The castle’s entrance reserved for family.

  “Valentina, Misha, and I were all meant to remain together. Our parents raised us as relatives and pushed the fact that we should always look out for each other.” I placed my hands on her stomach. “I hope that all of our kids maintain a strong connection too.”

  Smiling, she put her hand over mine. “I like that.”

  “I’ve heard that Misha is with his ballerina. She should be here today, if she isn’t busy. She’s the first black prima ballerina in Russia.”

  “Oh wow. Where is she from?”

  “Somewhere in New York.”

  “I’m digging her already.” Emily grinned. “She’s broken down barriers and she’s a fellow New Yorker.”

  “This may be inappropriate for a funeral, but I am so happy.” Keeping my hand on her stomach, I kissed her. “You’re carrying my baby. I want to scream this throughout the whole castle.”

  “Maybe, we should keep it a secret until a certain amount of months.”

  I chuckled, “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to do that. I texted my sister, when we left the doctor.”

  “Wow. You couldn’t keep it a secret for longer than ten minutes?”

  “She’ll be here this evening and will probably annoy you the whole time. She’s super excited.”

  “I can’t believe you texted her that fast.”

  “And then I told the staff, when I arrived at the house.”

  “The staff.” She grinned. “Please, tell me. That’s it.”

  “My men also know.”

  “Just your main security?”

  “Yes. Plus, I had a small party with the fellas to celebrate the baby last night.”

  She shook her head.

  “Maxwell—”

  “What? You told Max, before me?”

  “It couldn’t be helped.”

  “Oh my God. Who else was at the Bros over Hoes bash?”

  I smirked. “Zahkar, David, Abram, Nikolay, and Pavel. I treated them to a little male spa day—cigars, barbers, and brandy.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone yet.”

  “Then, you better hurry. I plan to tell the world.”

  Emily laughed. “I’m sure the world already knows.”

  “Hmmm. Is that my cousin waiting for me? Someone must’ve told Misha I was here.” I gestured to the window.

  Misha stood tall among everyone else around him. Tanned skin and dark hair. Chiseled features that the Saint Petersburg women loved. And right next to him, a beautiful woman held his hands. Black hair outlined her brown face. She had the ballerina figure—slim frame with a few curves.

  That must be Ava. Misha’s little ballerina.

  My cousin had sworn I met Ava a few times. Apparently she was my ex-lover Olesya’s best friend. However, I didn’t remember ever seeing Ava, before this moment.

  Several men surrounded Misha. The signature brotherhood bunch—scarred faces and blood-hungry expressions. Huge, tall, and built. Tattoos peeking out of designer suits.

  “Does Misha know I’m pregnant?” Emily asked.

  “Not yet.” I gave her a wicked smile.

  The limo parked in front of the new couple.

  When the driver opened the door, I left, then held my hand for Emily, and helped her out.

  “Cousin.” Misha walked over and greeted me with a huge hug, pecking both of my cheeks. “I’m glad to see that you have your mouse safely back with you.”

  “Me too.” I leaned toward his ear. “She’s pregnant.”

  Letting go of our hug, Misha widened his eyes and turned to Emily. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you, Misha.” She held an uncomfortable expression and whispered to me, “Really, Kaz? It took you three seconds.”

  “Actually two.”

  Misha gestured to Ava as she stepped up to us. “This is my girlfriend Ava Jones—the first black prima—”

  “Misha, that is unnecessary.” Ava held her hand out to Emily. “Nice to meet you.”

  They shook hands.

  Emily smiled. “I heard you were from New York.”

  “Bronx,” Ava said.

  “Harlem.”

  “Love it.”

  At the mention of his name, the puppy barked and jumped out of the limo.

  We should have brought the leash.

  “Aww.” Ava lowered and petted the furry devil. “So cute. What’s his name?”

  “Harlem. That’s why he came out. He must’ve thought I was calling him.” Emily picked him up and let Ava pet him some more. “Not that creative, but being in Russia, I miss New York sometimes. This is a little bit of my city here.”

  Ava waved at me. “And. . .we know each other already, Kazimir.”

  We don’t, but I’ll be nice to you, since your Misha’s ballerina.

  “It is nice to meet you. . .again, Ava.” I shook her hand.

  Appearing a bit nervous, she took her hand back.

  Misha gestured back at the castle. “My girlfriend and her grandmother put together the festivities, so let’s get you settled.”

  He gave the plans to his girlfriend and grandmother? Interesting. How did that happen?

  Misha held Ava’s hand and led us up the stairs to the castle. His men moved out of the way.

  Misha looked over his shoulder. “You’ll get your usual bedroom. I have to greet the other guests. In an hour, let’s meet in the Bathhouse.”

  He has something he wants to discuss away from the women.

  “Sounds good, cousin.”r />
  Misha and Ava went down the other hallway.

  And I headed for my bedroom.

  This is a new sort of welcome.

  Usually, Uncle Igor gave me the grand tour. Every visit brought a new strange wonder in his hallways of horror. Always he wanted to show me something that tended to leave me unsettled.

  I wonder how much Misha and his girlfriend have changed the place.

  Emily and I entered the massive space.

  “Hmmm.” I stopped.

  Emily stood next to me, holding Harlem. “Wasn’t there a creepy wooden stage with a throne here?”

  Creepy was correct. Tiny fanged-faces had been engraved into the woodwork. They were all on the stage’s floor and even cut along the sides, giving the appearance that tiny people held my uncle’s throne up. Every day he would sit on it with a crown of thrones propped on his head.

  “You’re correct. The stage is gone.” I took everything in. “Usually, people are in here kneeling as my uncle sits on his throne.”

  Things will never be the same.

  Oddly with the throne gone, the reality of his death hit me harder. No longer would I see him again. Those moments we shared here in Prague would be the only times.

  He would have been happy to hear about Emily’s pregnancy.

  Emily put Harlem on the ground. As if she heard my thoughts, she hugged me. “I’m here, when you need me.”

  “Do I look sad?”

  “Yes, but that’s to be expected.”

  “I know my uncle is happy and with my aunt, but. . .I will miss him.”

  “I’ll be here the whole time.” She kissed me on my cheek and left my hold.

  I pulled her back and consumed those lips. She sighed, when I let her go.

  Off in the distance, Harlem barked.

  “We really should have brought a leash.” I frowned. “He doesn’t get that he should remain with his alphas.”

  “Yeah. I wonder how that happened.” She giggled and headed off in Harlem’s direction.

  We walked down the dark hallway lit by small torches on the wall.

  At least everything isn’t changed.

  The place still had the feel of a medieval castle.

  Several feet, Harlem continued to yap at someone.

  Emily looked at me. “How was it growing up in a castle?”

  “My mother already spoiled me. It didn’t help, when we moved here. I pretty much thought of myself as the king of this place.”

  “So that’s where that ego came from?”

  “Mysh.” I winked at her. “I was born with this ego.”

  We continued forward. After a while, we were three feet from Harlem’s yapping.

  There you go.

  Emily picked Harlem up.

  On the right, I checked to see if the entrance to the prison was still there. Uncle Igor imprisoned men he considered deviants—rapists, pedophiles, and others that preyed on what they presumed weak.

  We came close and I stopped and stared. Usually guards played chess on a black and ivory table with red chess pieces, while the prisoners hung nude and chained to the wall.

  But not today.

  “Kazzy bear!” My uncle’s second-in-command Rolan rose from the chess board and headed my way.

  No. Don’t say Kazzy Bear in front of Emily.

  At sixty-two, Rolan looked pretty damn young and still bad ass. He was the reason why I didn’t fear aging. Rolan’s head was cleanly shaven. His gray goatee shaped up. He looked bigger than I remembered him. Those biceps stretched in the strawberry red dress shirt while his big thighs pushed against his black pants.

  He had tattooed roses around his throat as a memorial to his mother Roza. Holy crosses and skulls covered his hands. Rolan yanked me into a massive hug. “How are you, Kazzy bear?”

  “I am not Kazzy bear anymore, Uncle.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Rolan let me out of the hug and patted my back. “You are the lion now. I never liked that you picked that animal. Why not a bear?”

  I pursed my lips. “Because you are the Big Bear.”

  “But, it would have nice for you to be the Little Bear.”

  I frowned. “No. It would not.”

  Many called Rolan the Big Bear for a reason. Not just for his size and height. He killed like one, knocking a person out and snapping their head off in one swift swoop. Not only was Little Bear suggestive of my being smaller than him, but no one could truly stand in his shadow. He had created a worthy name and legacy within the brotherhood. It was too bad that he had never had kids of his own.

  “I’m glad you came early, Kazzy Bear.” Rolan gestured to the black woman at the table that he’d been playing chess with. “This is my new girlfriend Jacqueline.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m not his new girlfriend.” She rose. “And my name is Mrs. Jones.”

  Emily grinned. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones.”

  The woman held a warm smile. “I’m Ava’s grandmother. Have you met her?”

  Emily nodded. “We did. So, are you from New York too?”

  “Yes, by way of New Orleans.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Nice to mee you, Mrs. Jones.” I studied the woman. “That makes more sense that you’re not Uncle Rolan’s girlfriend. You look too classy and intelligent.”

  Mrs. Jones beamed. “Thank you.”

  Rolan touched his chest and dramatically leaned back like he’d been shot. “That hurt my heart, Kazzy bear.”

  Emily extended her hand to Rolan. “Hello.”

  “The mouse!” He pulled Emily and the puppy into a hug. “I’m Rolan and I’ve heard a lot. Nice to finally meet you. Has Kazzy Bear talked about me?”

  Trapped in Rolan’s huge arms, Emily widened her eyes.

  My frown deepened. “I haven’t got a chance to discuss you. Try not to break her, please.”

  “Of course not. She’s probably not used to a man with all these muscles.” Rolan let her go.

  I frowned.

  Rolan bellowed with laughter. “Oh. And congratulations on the pregnancy.”

  Emily scowled at me.

  I raised my hands in the air. “I didn’t tell him.”

  Rolan shrugged. “Misha texted me a minute ago.”

  I pointed to the walls to get us off the topic. “Where are the prisoners?”

  “Prisoners?” Mrs. Jones opened her mouth in shock.

  Rolan shook his head. “We do not talk about the prisoners at this time. This is a normal castle with normal things, Kazzy Bear. Keep your mouth closed.”

  Okay. No talking about this in front of Ava’s grandmother.

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “We will talk more in the bathhouse.” Rolan patted me hard on my back, went back to the table, and returned to his chess game with Mrs. Jones. “See you then, until now I must teach a beautiful woman a lesson.”

  Mrs. Jones made it back to her seat. “I’m teaching you the lesson.”

  “Nice meeting you.” I took Emily away, before Rolan gave out more hugs or said Kazzy bear one more time.

  We left that hallway.

  Emily slowed down and twisted her face in disgust. “Wait. I hate the next room.”

  “The room of mirrors?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed Harlem’s neck.

  “Maybe, it is different.”

  “Let’s hope,” she murmured.

  We entered the room.

  Stunned, I stood in the doorway.

  All the mirrors were gone as well as the black carpet and ceiling. No porcelain dolls lined the walls. And there was no little woman with black hair.

  What was her name again?

  “Misha changed everything.” Emily took in the new place. “It’s a sitting area. A normal place to sit. Not a room of nightmares.”

  Soft beige carpet covered the floor. A polished mahogany table stood in the center. Two bright blue couches lined the wall. An oil portrait hung on the wall, showing a couple riding horses on the beach.

  Emily scann
ed the space. “What happened to the little girl?”

  “She wasn’t a true kid. It was a little woman.”

  “Oh.” Emily giggled. “Thank God. I thought your uncle had imprisoned some woman and her child.”

  “No. He had a few limits. Jailing kids were one of them.”

  We passed tons of rooms. Many of the doors were opened, neat spaces. The same portraits hung on the walls.

  We left and headed to the staircase leading to the east wing.

  “So. . .mysh.” I took Harlem from her arms and held her hand. “We have some rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “No exploring secret passageways this trip.”

  Pouting, she followed me up the stairs. “Fine.”

  Shocked, I turned to her. “Fine?”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “I’m pregnant. No secret tunnels and paths beyond the walls. No chasing after masked men and wrestling down to the ground and shooting them.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Do you enjoy this, lion?”

  “I must admit. I do. I like you being submissive.”

  “Enjoy it for now. This won’t be that long. These months will rush by.”

  I hope not.

  We got to our room. The maids would bring our bags later. My sister and others would be arriving. Harlem explored the massive space, sniffing every corner and wagging his tail.

  Emily checked out each inch of the room too, taking in the massive oil painting on the wall. “Who’s this?”

  “Crucifix.”

  She nodded. “That’s your favorite band.”

  “Of course. My mother had this done for my twelfth birthday. This used to be my old room.”

  All six members stood in loud colored suits. The artist had captured their boisterous energy.

  “Jesus. This used to be your old room.” She spun around in the area. “This is a huge place for a twelve year old. No wonder you had a big ego. Is it the same furniture?”

  “No way. I had a big bunk bed in here. Valentina would sneak in my room in the middle of the night because she was always scared to sleep alone. I had targets and basketball and rugby nets. Anything you can think of that was sports related.”

  “Yeah. It’s big enough to play sports in here.”

  I talked more with her about my childhood. She laughed and I enjoyed walking down memory lane with her. Never had I had a woman to do that with. There had been none that I had even held more than a few sentences of conversation with.