Note: NESSEC stands for Naval Electronic Systems Security Engineering Center.

Malcolm couldn't stop looking at the selfie Cookie just texted him. She must have snapped it shortly after he left her apartment that morning. Hair tousled, skin glowing, eyes letting him know that Malcolm had fully satisfied her before he left. Cookie was in all her post-coital glory. Even clothed, she was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. It seemed that she finally knew that now.

"Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?" Malcolm asked Cookie after making love one night in the Berkshires. He had finally coaxed her into wearing nothing but her skin, unobscured by bedsheets or bathrobes or blankets made of fur.

Cookie's voice was low, but she looked him straight in the eye. "I am." And she was.

They'd returned from their vacation the night before, where Cookie insisted that he sleep at her apartment – for his safety, of course, since it was dark out there. They had barely made it past the door before Malcolm had Cookie up against the wall, down on his knees while she straddled his face and grabbed for something to hold her upright.

Malcolm didn't know how they were going to keep this relationship under wraps, or even if they were going to bother. He was happy with Cookie, and he had no intentions of keeping her under wraps. Cookie seemed just fine with that, too. Wasn't he about to meet her sister later that day? That let Malcolm know that he wasn't going to be some romp in the mountains. They'd also talked about their plans for Thanksgiving, which was four months from now. There was going to come a time when Lucious was going to know and understand that Cookie was Malcolm's lady now, job be damned.

There was a knock on his cubicle wall. "Malcolm?"

"Hey, Porsha." Malcolm could've had an office like all of the other heads of departments, but he liked being on the ground floor with his men. "What's up?"

Porsha wasn't her usual loud, jokey self. "Lucious wants to see you."

"Right now?" Usually, Malcolm didn't debrief with Lucious until after 8:00 p.m. or so.

"Yeah." Porsha took a deep breath. "Malcolm…Lucious knows about you and Cookie up in the Berkshires. I'm sorry, Malcolm," she rushed ahead when Malcolm didn't say anything. "It just slipped out. I wasn't tryna tell y'all's business. Lucious was tryna find-"

"It's okay, Porsha. Thanks for the heads up." After all, Porsha wouldn't have known if Cookie hadn't told her. Besides, Porsha had proven herself to be a true friend to Cookie when Anika tried to lure her away. That was all that mattered to Malcolm. "I'm not sure how Cookie's going to feel, but me and Lucious were going to exchange words anyway. Might as well be now. I serve with honor on and off the battlefield," he added, quoting a line from the Navy SEAL code.

"You really like her, huh? I mean, for real for real?" Porsha's voice was more than a bit anxious, but sincere. "You're not just tryna dip your hands in the Cookie jar, right?"

Malcolm's intentions were none of Porsha's business, but Malcolm knew why she was asking. Porsha wasn't being nosy or digging for gossip. She was looking out for her boss, like a loyal soldier. "That's my baby, Porsha," Malcolm confessed to her. "For real for real."

"That's good." Porsha gave Malcolm a faint smile, then it faded again. "Maybe it won't be so bad, Malcolm. You're the head of security here. It could be anything."

Porsha said it and Malcolm heard it, but neither of them believed it. Malcolm just nodded as he left Cookie's office and walked to the elevator. Dead nigga walking, Malcolm thought as he pressed the ground floor button. That's me out here right now.

The man whose face was on every ugly gold logo in the building opened the door to Malcolm's knock. "Good to have you back. How was your long vacation?" he asked, gesturing for Malcolm to come in.

"Very enjoyable, sir," Malcolm replied placidly. He was pushing it, but he went on anyway. "It was just what I needed."

Lucious's jaw began to twitch, a sure sign of his simmering anger. Malcolm saw that look the night Cookie told Malcolm to call her to talk about beefing up the security in her place, right in front of their entire family. Malcolm couldn't help but notice how lovely Cookie looked with Lola in her arms that night. But then Cookie just had to slide her eyes up and down Malcolm's body so blatantly that she might as well have popped her legs open and put up a neon sign for Malcolm to follow.

The silly part was that it was everybody in the room except Lucious that Cookie was just acting this way to antagonize the hell out of him. Either the man couldn't take the hint or couldn't take a joke, or perhaps Malcolm looked at Cookie a little too long, because Lucious matched Cookie's look with one of his own, just as pointed: if you even breathe in her direction, you'll be on the breadlines by midnight. That's when Malcolm stopped thinking about how banging Cookie looked in that dress, or how good her perfume smelled while they were watching Elle rehearse earlier that day. "Sir," Malcolm said, turning to his boss, "I'll get those numbers and get back to you." He turned to leave.

"You should call me so we can set that up," Cookie called out. Hakeem had to turn his back to his father. Jamal was holding his breath with his eyes closed. Andre pretended to have a coughing fit, while Rhonda put her head in her hands to keep tears from streaming down her face. Even the maids looked like they were trying not to laugh.

"You realize…" Malcolm heard Lucious say, and his voice was cold as his eyes had been. Malcolm didn't hear the rest.

Now those cold eyes were fixed dead on Malcolm, all-knowing. "I've been thinking about your future here at Empire and all the work you've put into the security here."

I'll bet.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with the job you're doing here. But if you think about it, Malcolm, you're just a security guard. I mean, I respect your whole boots-on-the-ground, 'in-the-trenches' kind of thinking, but anybody could do the job you do. I'm sorry, but I think you're wasting your talent and your skills here."

In just a few weeks, Malcolm and his squad had prevented two home break-ins, six financial hacks and a massive company takeover. The only casualties had been a stalled elevator, a temporary loss of a few thousand dollars and a drunken ex-wife. Still, Malcolm let it slide.

"Have you ever thought about starting your own security business? Working for yourself?"

"Sir?" Of course Malcolm had thought about starting his own company. To him, the world was one big-ass security breach. Malcolm had a hundred ideas on how to make the world safer. Thousands of ideas. He had a degree in engineering and spent five years at NESSEC before his 12 years as a SEAL. But even with his five-star resume, no one would give Malcolm a business loan.

"Well, why don't you?"

Because I don't have a wife willing to sell drugs so I can install security systems, Malcolm thought bitterly. "I've tried to, in the past. Got a portfolio together and everything. But I can't get a business loan." After a while, the rejection letters and the good-luck-to-you handshakes got to be too much.

"What, you got bad credit? That never stopped Donald Trump."

"Actually, I don't have a credit history at all."

"Really?" Lucious's brows kneaded together. "How'd you pull that off?"

"Well, my parents always told me that credit was the devil. 'Always pay cash.' I heard that from the time I started mowing lawns for spending money. 'If you don't have the cash to pay for it, you can't afford it.' So I did everything like that. School, cars…" Malcolm felt a little self-conscious describing his childhood. His early life compared to Lucious's was a day in the park. Luscious had made something out of himself having come from nothing. Malcolm – the son and grandson of sailors – could barely pay his rent. "So now I can't demonstrate his ability to pay back debt because I don't have any debt-"

"-and they don't want to give a young brother a chance because you've been financially responsible all your life," Lucious finished. "That's crazy. You'd think they'd be throwing money at you. Well, fuck 'em. How about you start your security business here at Empire?"

Malcolm was thunderstruck. "Sir?"

"We sell shoes, champagne…why not security? Look, Malcolm. Real talk." Lucious gestured for Malcolm to sit in the chair opposite him on the same side his office desk. Anyone looking into the office would think that the two were equals, instead of employer and employee. "You know how many security companies I've been through over the years? Nobody could have stopped that breach like you did, Malcolm. I will always be grateful to you for that." There was no ice in Lucious's voice now, and nothing but respect was in Lucious's voice. "Your security should be looking over your own shit, not just mine. And if these racist-ass bankers aren't smart enough to give one to a man who has done so much for this country, I will. Because I already know you'll succeed."

"That…that sounds like a great opportunity, sir." Malcolm could barely think straight. What had been nothing but a dream of his was starting to become a reality. Working for himself. Hiring his own personnel. Expanding into other buildings. Other companies. Maybe even getting the opportunity to give young black men a hand up the way Lucious was doing for him.

"Take the afternoon off, Malcolm. Go home and get your portfolio together. Tomorrow, we'll sit down and go over it and come up with a business plan. We can talk loans or shares or maybe some other business arrangement. Sound good to you?"

"That sounds great!" Every ugly thought he'd ever had of Lucious disintegrated. "And thank you, Mr. Lyon. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." Lucious's smile was almost paternal, even though they were just four years apart. "Believe me, I'm happy to give a man like you the opportunity to get your logo on the side of a building one day without having to sling dope to do it." They stood and shook hands, and this time, Lucious reached out to embrace him. "Take care, Malcolm. See you tomorrow."

Malcolm's portfolio was still in his leather navy case, covered with dust and full of denial letters. He would definitely be up all night updating it and adding a few more features. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for ever since he was scribbling blueprints on scraps of paper in Afghanistan. Oh, sure, he'd have to hire some of New York's best lawyers so he wouldn't wind up in indentured servitude to Lucious, and the idea of his gold-colored head on every system he install made Malcolm a little nauseous. But the chance to start his own business was worth having to look at Lucious's gold face for a few years.

I have to tell Cookie. Cookie. Cookie! Lucious never even mentioned Cookie! Porsha was right after all. This wasn't personal. This was all about business. Lucious was too smart to lose his head over his ex-wife. Of course, Malcolm would keep things professional at work, but he was definitely going to put in for his own office now.

Before Malcolm went home, he was going to go buy some flowers for Porsha. Cookie, too. He would buy Cookie the most beautiful roses he could find…no, wait. He would slip into her apartment and sprinkle them on her bed…no, wait, he promised himself that he wouldn't abuse his security access like that. Besides, Cookie said once that she didn't like roses…

"Malcolm! Ayo, Malcolm!"

Agent Chris Spencer was coming up the hall. "S'up, Spence?" Malcolm asked. Spencer was a great guy. Ex-Army. One of the best men Malcolm knew. He would be Malcolm's right hand man, for sure.

"Welcome back, Mal." Chris was as white as mayonnaise on Wonder Bread, but he gave dap like a brother. "Say, I hate to throw business on you since you just got back from Mr. Lyon's office, but would it be okay with you if we gave Ms. Lyon 15 minutes to secure her belongings. Or do you want her to be escorted from the building right away?"

"What?" Malcolm's floral fantasies evaporated. Security? Malcolm was security. Shit, he was head of security. He was about to have his own security business in this very building. "What are you talking about, Spencer? I haven't authorized anyone to be escorted from the building. Certainly not Cook - Ms. Lyon."

"You didn't?" Chris looked down on his clipboard. "Your signature is on this paperwork I'm supposed to send to her when she either secures her things or has them shipped to her."

"Let me see that." Sure enough, at the bottom of the paperwork that verified that Cookie Lyon's security badge had been deactivated and the electronic locks on her doors changed, there was Malcolm's signature. "Spence, who gave you these papers?"

"Mr. Lyon. He just fired her about a minute ago, but he didn't say anything about what to do with her stuff. I don't think she knew this was going to happen – hell, we just found out about 10 minutes ago. Anyway, do you want us to box it up or - Malcolm? Malcolm! Where are you going, bro?"

Malcolm remembered exactly when he stopped respecting Lucious Lyon. It was the night of the IPO concert. Anika, for whatever reason, had slipped something in the drink of Empire legend Elle Dallas to make her appear drunk or high, or both. Malcolm went back and reviewed the just-recorded footage to make sure that he wasn't making a false accusation before he reported it to Lucious. Lucious was furious at first, but when Malcolm told him that his fiancée was the one who did it, he suddenly blew the whole thing off. "Don't worry about it," he'd said. And that was all.

Since Elle didn't remember a thing, Anika forced Elle to start going to Narcotics Anonymous or risk having her contract voided. Not one day went by without her heralding her goodness or Lucious's generosity. Because Elle was Cookie's client, Anika required Cookie to go with her. To Cookie's credit, she went to every meeting with Elle without complaint, even when Anika regularly made it clear that the whole thing was Cookie's fault.

Cookie seemed even more stunned by Anika drugging Elle than she was about Camilla not taking Lucious's money. "And I spent so much time staying on her back, following her around like some parole officer…you know the worst thing, Malcolm?" she asked one night as she massaged his back by the fire in the cabin's front room.

"No, what?" Malcolm felt pretty bad about it himself. He was torn between telling Elle the truth and keeping his mouth shut for the sake of his job, but then Elle got to keep her contract and all she had to do was go to a few meetings. Why rock the boat? he'd thought back then. He wasn't so sure now. To plant false memories in the mind of a recovering addict…that was, as his Irish shipmate used to say, beyond the beyonds.

"I think Elle's starting to think that she really did get high that night. It's like, at first she was insistent that she didn't. Then she said she did, but it's like she was just going through the motions to shut me up. But now, the way she talks about it, I think she's starting to believe Anika."

"I just wish I'd caught it earlier," Malcolm surmised. "That's my job, you know?"

"Malcolm. Who the hell sees a person's boss pouring something in a drink out in broad club light and thinks that they're being drugged in order to be framed so that an ex-wife can look bad?" Cookie laid on top of Malcolm's back, her bare breasts pressing against his shoulders, and wrapped her arms around him. "Don't beat yourself up over this, baby," she murmured into his neck, knowing full well that he always would.

By the time Malcolm was walking Camilla through John F. Kennedy International Airport, he was beginning to consider looking elsewhere for work. It had started with an offer of a tissue and ended with the two of them as kindred spirits. Like Cookie, Camilla had grown up with nothing. She was a self-made businesswoman, and a legitimate one at that. Yes, Camilla was broke and selling her clothes, and she was on the verge of losing her business. But Camilla's money woes stemmed from paying for her mother's all-but-useless chemotherapy in Eunice Marks' native Jamaica. As someone whose mother died of ovarian cancer when he was 14, Malcolm could relate to that better than anybody.

How many women were going to be sacrificed at the altar of Lucious Lyon? Camilla, Cookie, Anika, Olivia…even Elle and little Lola. Who else? And what was working for Lucious was going to do to Malcolm's soul?

Camilla seemed to read his thoughts. "Malcolm," Camilla told him at the airport terminal as they said their goodbyes. "Make me a promise, please. From one child of a cancer patient to another, do this one thing for me."

They belonged to a sacred club that Malcolm didn't wish membership upon anyone, not even Lucious. "Yes?"

"Get out of that place before it changes you, Malcolm." Camilla gripped his hands tightly. "Get away from Lucious Lyon before he turns you into one of his pawns. When Lucious dies, I'll be back. But not before then." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're a good man, Malcolm. Stay that way. This world needs more good people like you."

Get away from Lucious Lyon. Watching Camilla walk through baggage claim with her head held high, that suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world. Now, more than ever, Malcolm knew that Camilla was right. Opportunity or not, he had to leave Empire.

Lucious jumped when Malcolm threw his door open. "You fired Cookie?" he demanded, not giving a damn who heard it.

It was obvious by Lucious's reaction that Malcolm wasn't supposed to know this information, at least not now. Malcolm was supposed to be at home by now, putting his portfolio together. But Cookie was early, and Malcolm now confronted Lucious with papers in his hand with Malcolm's signature. "Cookie Lyon violated the Empire Code of Conduct," Lucious said evenly. "She got involved with one of the employees here. Security personnel, so they tell me." Lucious gave Malcolm the same look that he gave the night Cookie flirted in front of him with her then-granddaughter in her arms. "She also took a long vacation out of state, which violated her parole. That violates our moral code."

Malcolm wasn't aware that Empire had a code of conduct. Or a moral code. Or morals. "Are you serious, Lucious?"

"I'm dead serious. And I don't have a problem firing two people today, not just one."

A small threat coming from a small man. "Then fire me," Malcolm challenged, closing the door behind him. "I'll be off the premises in 10 minutes. But don't do this to Cookie. She's sacrificed way too much to make you the man you are." Malcolm's voice grew hard. "This is between us, Lucious. So let's settle this man to man. But only the men."

"Ooh," Lucious mocked. "So now I'm Lucious. Five minutes ago, when you were standing here with your hand out, I was Mr. Lyon." Lucious shook his head. "You're worse than Hakeem and his geriatric pussy fantasies. You've known Cookie for what…six weeks?" he scoffed. "And you're already taking her on vacations? You're willing to sacrifice your job and your future to be with an ex-con with three grown boys?"

Malcolm hadn't thought about it like that. "You're pussy-whipped, Malcolm," Lucious mocked. "I don't care what your resume says. Fuck a SEAL and a tactical motherfucker and all that Rambo shit. You're a pussy-whipped pussy, and I can't have no pussies on my security detail. Shit, you even smell like pussy! Pussy and perfume. You think I don't know what Cookie's perfume smells like, when I was all up in it two weeks ago?"

Two weeks ago?!

Lucious smirked at the look on Malcolm's face. "But I'm not mad at you, Malcolm. Shit, I understand." Lucious's voice was softer now. Friendlier. Almost human. "Everybody wants to paint me as the monster who abandoned my loyal wife when she went down for me. But Cookie was my first love. My first girlfriend. Shit, my first, period. And I never stepped out on Cookie, not once. I never had another woman before Cookie and I never had another one until she went away." Lucious sat back in his desk chair and leaned back. "You wanna talk man to man, Malcolm? Fine. Ask me. Ask me why I divorced Cookie."

Silence filled the air. "That's what I thought," Lucious sneered when Malcolm didn't ask anything. "Just so you know, Malcolm, I asked Cookie to have my baby so we could get married. When she came to me and told me she was pregnant, I shut the whole block down and threw an engagement party. Didn't know that all my boys were laughing at me behind my back. Vernon, Bunkie…all of them."

"Why was that?" Malcolm finally asked. It was the first question he could finally get his mind to form.

"Because Cookie had been givin' it up to every nigga on the block, that's why. Let me guess," Lucious added when Malcolm was unable to hide his shock. "She told you some bullshit story about how I was her only man, right? Meanwhile, I'm raising some other nigga's kid who has my last name, and all because I let some hoodrat trick me into marrying her when I was younger than Hakeem."

It took Malcolm a couple of minutes before he could even comprehend what Lucious was saying. "Andre isn't your son?" he repeated.

"Hell, naw, Andre ain't my son! Does he look like my son? Does he act like my son?" Lucious's eyes burned with anger, as if he was furious that his head of his security detail hadn't noticed such an obvious thing. "My daddy was a blues singer. My grandmama toured with the Count Basie Band. That's what Lyons do. That nigga can't even whistle, Malcolm. And you know what else? We're hard, and that includes the women. Shit, even Jamal is hard in his faggoty little way. But Andre? Andre is soft," Lucious spat. "He's not bipolar - he's weak. Hell, naw, that ain't my son."

Malcolm looked Lucious dead in the eye. Lucious looked back, unblinking. Either Lucious was a complete psychopath or he was telling the truth. "I know it's a lot to take, Malcolm, but I'm looking out for you. Cookie's like a drug – shit, you know that. I had to cut Cookie off completely just to function. If I'd been trying to make that work while she was in prison, I never would have been able to make Empire what it is today. And I'd never be able to offer you the opportunity that I'm offering you."

"You're still offering me the chance to start my business here?" Malcolm asked. "Why?"

"I'm keeping you because I understand what you're going through. I know what it's like to have to get Cookie out of your system. Somebody needed to pull your coattails, Malcolm, before you let that woman ruin your life. You, Malcolm, are the future. Cookie is damaged goods."

The last words were said so quietly, so convincingly Malcolm jumped when the telephone rang. "Hold that thought," Lucious said. "Let me get these people off my line."

The lights in the room were suddenly so bright that Malcolm felt dizzy enough to sit down. While Lucious finished up on the phone, a magazine on his desk caught Malcolm's eye. He picked it up and looked at it. The story, along with the cover, featured Lucious sitting down with his three sons (two?) standing around him. It went on and on about Empire being a family company, and how he had been able to bury the hatchet with his ex-wife in order to keep Empire in the family.

It was Malcolm's job to study things. He'd studied all the Lyon boys in depth. He'd studied Lucious in depth. He'd studied Cookie in great depth. Now, by studying this magazine cover, Malcolm knew the truth.

"Sorry about that." Lucious cut into Malcolm's thoughts as he hung up his office phone. "Anyway, like I said, I'm sorry to put this all on you like this. Don't get me wrong, Cookie is a great girl. And I won't lie to you, Malcolm. I still love Cookie," Lucious admitted. "I love her so much that it hurts. But sometimes you have to sacrifice your queen…"

"…in order to win the game," Malcolm finished dully.

"And that's what you have to do, Malcolm, if you want to get ahead in this game. She's just not worth blowing an opportunity like this."

An opportunity like this. His own security company. He could give back to the community. He could buy a headstone for his mother. He could get some real, quality medical care for his father's alcoholism – not that bullshit group therapy at Veteran Affairs. There were other women in the world. Women who could travel without worrying about whether it would get back to their parole officers. Women who didn't have hot flashes or c-section scars. Women who could give him a family. "I understand, Mr. Lyon," Malcolm said, finally reaching a decision about the future. "You've given me a lot to think about, sir. Thank you."

"Glad you understand. And I'm glad you're sticking around." Lucious held out his hand for Malcolm to shake.

Malcolm shook Lucious's hand, then gripped it, trapping him. "I understand that you're a terrible liar," he clarified.

Andre looked exactly like Lucious's son, right down to the square shape of their fingernails. They walked alike. Both of their right pinky fingers stuck out while they typed, but not the left, and they both had birthmarks on their left earlobes. And the idea that Cookie had been pregnant with another man's child – the same woman who trembled in her sleep the first night they'd made love and didn't even let Malcolm see her completely naked until their second night –was the dumbest thing Malcolm had ever heard. Damaged goods? How could a man who claimed to love a woman talk about the mother of his children that way? How could Lucious say something like that about a woman as beautiful as Cookie?

With that, Malcolm drove his fist so hard into Lucious's solar plexus that he made a mental note to start weight lifting again when Lucious didn't vomit. He took a little satisfaction at watching him crumple up like a piece of paper and fall to the floor, curling up in a fetal position. Malcolm stood over Lucious, fighting the urge to pull his cock out and piss all over the bastard's face. Instead, he flung his security badge to the floor, striking Lucious in the face. "I quit."

Lucious sat up, knowing that his plan had failed. Malcolm hadn't fallen for his bullshit, and he wasn't going to betray Cookie. "So you're going to walk away from the opportunity to build your own business from the ground up over some ran-through pussy that you just met?" Lucious pulled himself to a kneeling position, still unable to rise. "Malcolm, you'll lose money chasing after pussy. But you'll never lose pussy chasing after money. Remember that."

Malcolm looked at the ailing man struggling to pick himself off the floor. "If I was dying of some non-curable disease and only had a few years to live, I know what I'd want by my side in the end. And it's not a bag of money."

"It's not Cookie, either. You'll never have her. Go ahead. Go up to her office like a little bitch and tell her you quit." Lucious stood up. "Cookie ain't goin' nowhere, with you, boy. That's my woman. She was my woman when she was on top of me two weeks ago, and she'll be my woman when she's on top of me two weeks from now. You can't win against me, Malcolm." Lucious smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "We have history. We're going to be together forever. She'll never choose you."

More trademark Lucious Lyon bullshit. It had almost worked on Malcolm, but it would never would again. "You're forgetting something, Lucious," Malcolm said mildly. "Cookie already chose me. She chose me when she went with me to the Berkshires and left you here."

The smile on Lucious's face faded. Malcolm took a mental picture, then walked out of Lucious's office forever.

Get out of that place before it changes you, Malcolm, Camilla had warned him. Get away from Lucious Lyon before he turns you into one of his pawns. How close Malcolm had come so close to being Lucious's pawn! Lucious had dangled Malcolm's dreams in front of his face like a juicy plum. All Malcolm had to do was reach out and take it. But Cookie had suffered too much and was too good of a woman for Malcolm to treat her that way. I serve with honor on and off the battlefield.

The papers with the fake signature were still in Malcolm's hands. As he ripped them to shreds, it occurred to Malcolm that he had just quit his job.

Scratch that - he just quit his job in a city that he just moved to.

Scratch that - he just quit his job for a woman he barely knew.

To hell with his honor. Honor didn't pay the bills in New York City. And it wasn't like Cookie Lyon was his girl. Hell, at this rate, she might be Lucious's woman for life, whether she had a say in the matter or not.

No. That would never be. Not as long as Malcolm drew breath. Maybe Cookie would be his lady and maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she would leave Empire with him and maybe she wouldn't. But as long as Malcolm cared Cookie, she would always have a choice in her life. Lucious didn't own Cookie, even if he thought he did.

Malcolm thought back to Camilla, now rebuilding her life in the U.K. He was headed back to Lucious's house when he heard Camilla calling his name. Perhaps it was their sudden bond, but even though he couldn't hear over the airport loudspeaker, Malcolm understood Camilla perfectly.

"Take Cookie when you go."

Malcolm wasn't completely unemployed. "There will always be a space for you here, Malcolm. 10 hours or 10 days or 10 years from now, if you walk through my door, we will make a space for you. Just get to D.C." It sounded so overblown and dramatic, but maybe…

As Malcolm pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he'd thought about calling so many times, he wondered if Cookie would like living in the nation's capital. The woman on the other end answered on the first ring. "Mal! Is that you?" she asked as Malcolm pressed the 13th button on the elevator. "Are you calling about the job? Are you coming to D.C.?"

"You win, Liv," Malcolm conceded to his cousin. "I'm coming. Now, tell me…what's a Gladiator?"

TBC