Note: Find "Malcolm X Police Precinct Scene" on YT f you've never seen it before. The instrumental piece ("Fruit of Islam") is a common cadence at historically black college and universities and school bands with high African American population.
Random fact: Taraji P. Henson was an extra in the film Malcolm X.
"Cookie, I'm flattered that you find me attractive, but…"
Malcolm spent nearly all of Saturday and most of Sunday morning after Malcolm kissed Cookie while she slept, he spent the entire night and most of the next morning practicing his usual speech. He'd given it often over the years. Too many housewives, daughters and single women throwing themselves at him was the main reason why he left home security for commercial security. With a few substitutions, the gentle turn-down had a 100% success rate – if one was to count having to say it multiple times to the same woman.
"Cookie, I'm flattered that…"
It didn't take long for Malcolm to figure out that Cookie's shameless flirting was largely done to annoy Lucious. When Lucious wasn't around, Cookie was much more appropriate. Flirting with Malcolm was safe because Cookie knew Malcolm would never reciprocate, not even she was intoxicated with her legs spread wide open in the back of his truck. Especially not while Cookie was intoxicated with her legs spread wide open in the back of his truck. Besides, Malcolm had a vague feeling that if he took Cookie's cookies, Lucious would take his thumbs.
It was Malcolm's job to study things, and anyone could see that Lucious still loved Cookie. Not just a little, either. Lucious confided in Malcolm from time to time, and he confessed that he'd divorced Cookie without notice because he would've died otherwise. Night after night, Lucious dreamed of killing himself in order to escape such a deep pit of despair. He'd thrown himself into Empire so that Cookie would have a kingdom when she got out of prison. Unfortunately for Cookie, Anika showed up and everything was rearranged to revolve around her.
While Malcolm genuinely sympathized and even said so – if for no other reason than to stay employed - he still didn't believe Lucious was in the right. Whatever pain Lucious had experienced, Cookie must have felt it 10 times over. She didn't even get a choice in the matter. For that reason that Malcolm couldn't fathom the friendliness between Cookie and a man who divorced her in prison while she served 17 years to protect him. Sometimes Cookie straightened Lucious's tie or brought him coffee. He occasionally heard them laughing together. And Lucious regularly called Cookie "baby," even though Anika worked in the same building. Lucious still loved Cookie, but did Cookie still love Lucious? It was impossible to tell.
Ever since Lucious and Anika had announced their engagement at the white party, the warmth between Lucious and Cookie had faded completely. Malcolm never got the impression that Cookie was envious of Anika, but with the space between Lucious and Cookie now, Malcolm wondered if the announcement had made Cookie jealous. And if she was jealous, she was probably lonely. And if she was lonely…
Malcolm took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Cookie, I'm flattered that…
The door swung open. "Hi, Mr. Malcolm!"
Wrong Lyoness. "Hey there, Lola Bear." From the moment Malcolm and Becky found Lola on the escalator, dragging her pink suitcase and looking for her long-gone mother, Malcolm had felt a strong affection for the little girl. Before Malcolm could lecture Lola on opening the door for strangers, Cookie walked into the room. "Hey, Malcolm," she greeted, trying to sound cheerful for Lola's sake. Aren't you little early? It's only 1:00."
Malcolm had been half-afraid that Cookie would come out wearing something outrageous, like some sexy lingerie under a sable coat. He was relieved to see that Cookie was wearing faded blue jean shorts and a raggedy Penn t-shirt - no doubt to keep Andre, who was still on a psychiatric hold, close to her heart. She had streaks of blue on her face, arms and legs, and her usually impeccable nails were ruined with paint and primer. There was even a dollop of paint in her hair, which was in a sloppy topknot.
Inwardly, Malcolm exhaled a sigh of relief. "Daylight Savings Time, Cookie. It's 2:00. Did you remember to set your clocks forward?" The sheepish look on Cookie's face told the answer. "Besides, there's no such thing as early," he added, quoting something that was said often during his time in the navy. "You're either on time-"
"Or you're late!" Lola finished with an emphatic nod of her curly head.
"Traitor." Lola giggled and wrapped her arms around her grandmother's neck as Cookie picked her up and placed her on her hip. Like Cookie, Lola had paint in her hair and on her face. "What on earth have you two been doing?" Malcolm asked, walking behind the women. "You look like Smurfs."
"Painting is hard work," Cookie called over her shoulder. "We're fixing up Lola's bedroom. Look, I was planning to have Lola bathed and asleep by the time you came by-"
Of course you were, Malcolm thought warily.
"-but since you are so very, very on time, you can start in her bedroom while I get Lola cleaned up."
"Will." No one would ever suspect that Cookie would be the kind of woman to enjoy being a grandmother, especially not at such a young age, but Cookie embraced it wholeheartedly. "We were trying to have another baby right before Cookie got locked up," Lucious told Malcolm one day. "She wanted a little girl so bad." And now, it seems as if she finally had one.
Malcolm had drawn out so many blueprints and installed so many security systems that he could measure practically by eyesight. Still, he pulled out his industrial measuring tape and notepad for this job. The last thing Lucious would be able to see is that he took any shortcuts.
Lola's room at Lucious's house resembled FAO Schwartz, but her room at Cookie's house resembled Fisher Price My First Safari. The whole room had a jungle theme, though it wasn't as random and disjointed as the prints and patterns throughout Cookie's apartment. In fact, it was quite nice. A couple of stuffed monkeys here, a lion cub or two there. Malcolm had to wonder if a professional interior decorator had done this room, because it seemed too restrained and color-coordinated to have been Cookie's brainchild.
There was a child-sized roller and paint bucket in the corner of the room, though Lola apparently got more paint on the floor than the walls. The source of the blue paint was coming from the sky on the walls. Not just some plain blue sky, but intricately painted clouds and jungle birds. There was also an elaborate art set, complete with different sized paint brushes and what seemed like hundreds of colors. Malcolm remembered Lucious saying that Cookie had been an artist back in high school – or at least she was before she got pregnant with Andre and had to drop out in the 9th grade.
Cookie's talents had not eroded in prison. Measures of music, complete with notes and staffs, made a trim around the top of Lola's walls. Malcolm had been a drum major in high school, where knowing music theory was a requirement for any band member. As Malcolm studied the wall carefully, he found himself whistling "The Bear Necessities," a song from the Disney film The Jungle Book. Clever, Malcolm thought. Of course the littlest Lyon would sleep in the jungle, the mighty jungle.
If Lola's bedroom was a jungle, her bathroom was a sailor's dream.
"Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside
Oh, I do like to be beside the seeeeea
I do like to stroll about the prom-prom-prom
While the brass band plays tiddily-om-pom-pom…"
Judging by the splashing of water, it seemed that Lola and Cookie were trying to recreate the sea on Lola's bathroom floor. Anybody with an ounce of good sense would know that Lola should be living with Cookie, not Lucious. This was a place where Lola could express herself, where she could romp and play and dream, and where she could splash around with her grandmother and make handprints on the wall and sing at the top of her voice.
"Lola!" Cookie yelled from the bathroom. "Get back here! Now!"
Lola, now a blur of brown and black, had no intentions of going back there. Instinctively, Malcolm stepped out of the closest and scooped the little girl off the floor. He held Lola at eye level and tried to look stern, but Lola just threw back her head and laughed. "Do it again, Mr. Malcolm!" Her eyes were so full of joy that Malcolm couldn't help but smile. "Do it again!"
Cookie came out of the bathroom soaked from head to waist and tying her shirt in a front knot, exposing her navel. The shirt clung to her body like a second skin, while the dripping water ran down her stomach and thighs. "Thanks, Malcolm. I wasn't trying to chase her all over the place." Cookie took Lola from Malcolm and wrapped her in a large bath towel. "I don't ever want to see you running around when you're wet, Loly-Poly. You could slip and fall."
Cookie's voice was gentle, but Lola could see she meant business. "Yes, Grandma. Bye, Mr. Malcolm!" Lola waved over Cookie's shoulder while Malcolm wondered how many nicknames this poor child had. Cookie shook her head and rolled her eyes. As she walked away, Malcolm noticed a tattoo in the small of her back, which was also wet. "Grandma, can we sing the song about the seaside again?"
Malcolm didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Cookie was gone. Maybe it was seeing her softer side, or maybe it was hair-ain't-done-ya-makeup-free version of her. Or maybe it was just seeing her in a wet t-shirt and short shorts.
He wondered if Cookie was wearing a bra.
He wondered what the rest of her lower back tattoo looked like.
He wondered how soft the skin below her navel was.
"Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside
Oh, I do like to be beside the seeeeea…"
Malcolm took a deep breath and ran through his speech in his mind. Cookie, I'm flattered that…
Had the continents of Africa and Asia gotten into a world war in a Lisa Frank factory, the carnage would've looked something like Cookie's bedroom. As if the overall motif of the apartment wasn't ugly enough, Cookie's bedroom was an eye-bleeding nightmare of every wild animal a person could think of. There was no theme, no pattern…just dead animal skin and prints all over the place. It was hard to imagine a woman as stylish as Cookie sleeping in a place like this.
Normally, Malcolm would never be in a master bedroom without supervision, and certainly not a woman's bedroom. But when Malcolm poked his head into Lola's bedroom to ask Cookie if she was ready to escort him to her bedroom, he found Cookie in her rocking chair, still in her wet clothes and reading Bible stories to Lola. Lola struggled to stay awake, but Cookie's voice was so soothing and melodic that ultimately, her granddaughter lost. Once Lola drifted off to sleep, so did Cookie. They looked so sweet together that Malcolm didn't have the heart to wake Cookie up.
God, Cookie was beautiful. This was the second time Malcolm had seen Cookie sleeping. But Cookie didn't look like a fragile little kitten like she did on Friday. Now she looked like a fierce lioness, one that would do anything to protect the little cub in her arms. The minute Malcolm noticed that he was staring at Cookie again, he began to practice his speech for when she woke up.
Cookie, I'm flattered that you find me attractive, but…
Security personnel always snooped a little bit, and Malcolm was no exception as he breezed through Cookie's bedroom with his measuring tape in hand. In Cookie's case, there was no need to dig. Papers and pictures were scattered all over Cookie's bed, dresser and floor. She was working on some sort of collage or art project for her wall. Giant cheetah setting aside, Malcolm found the display to be very stylish and artistic. The way Cookie interspersed pictures with little magazine clips, pins, doodles and pithy quotes made for a very interesting display.
One thing Malcolm noticed was that there was virtually nothing that related to Lucious. There was the occasional picture of him holding one of their sons and a magazine review of Lucious's debut album, Paid in Cash. Nothing else. That surprised Malcolm, for some reason.
As Malcolm turned away, another picture caught his eye - one that Lucious, unbeknownst to Anika or Cookie, kept in a frame behind their yacht portrait. More than once, Malcolm had seen Lucious pull out this same picture and stare at it, quietly reminiscing about his life with Cookie as a younger man. The picture was of a young Lucious and Cookie in the mid-1980s, the height of bad fashion. Lucious wore a white customized Adidas track suit with matching shell-toed sneakers, while Cookie sported a white new wave-type dress, multicolored fingernails, and long, blonde extensions in her hair. And bamboo earrings – at least two pair. "Ugly, isn't it?" Cookie asked from the doorway. "I don't know what I was thinking when I put those ugly blonde extensions in my hair."
"Sorry – I found it on the floor." Malcolm set the photo down on Cookie's nightstand. "What is this, a school dance our something?"
Cookie shook her head. "Our wedding. That's the courthouse in the background."
"Your wedding?" Malcolm picked the picture back up and gave it a closer look. Lucious definitely looked like a young man, but Cookie looked like a child. Sure enough, if one looked closely enough, one could see that Cookie was pregnant in the photo. "How old were you when you married Lucious, Cookie?"
"14." Malcolm waited for Cookie to expound on how she could have possibly gotten married at such a young age, but she said nothing further. Instead, Cookie took the photo from Malcolm's hand and tossed it into the trash can, which was the original destination, and left without another word. She said nothing to Malcolm as he began the plans for her bedroom, even though she had to come back in to get dry clothes to change into. Either Malcolm had overstepped his boundaries or he had struck a chord somehow.
Better keep my distance. Keep the talking to a minimum, and work a whole lot faster.
Quickly, Malcolm finished his work in the bedroom. There was one more bedroom to do, and then he could get the hell out of Cookie's apartment and back to safety. It meant he would have to finish the front room and kitchen another day, but Lucious was just going to have to be mad about that. As Malcolm gathered up his supplies to head back to the front room, he found himself looking back down in the otherwise empty garbage can at a deliriously happy pair of newlyweds. So young and happy, so in love…
Malcolm reached down and took the picture out of the trash can, lifted Cookie's memory board and placed her wedding picture underneath, face down. It was presumptuous and totally out of line, but Malcolm couldn't leave those happy newlyweds in the trash can like that. He just couldn't. It felt almost like bad luck somehow.
If Cookie didn't know any better, she would suspect that Malcolm didn't like her. He was a hard man to know, period. One minute, the two of them were discussing security issues or talking trash over football – he supported the Dallas Cowboys, while Cookie was a lifelong Eagles fan – and the next minute, he was calling her Ms. Lyon (God, how she hated that!) and barely looking at her, like right now. While Cookie made honey cornbread to go with her beef tips and rice, Malcolm treated his work as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. The silence was driving Cookie crazy.
"So tell me about yourself, Malcolm," Cookie encouraged while she cooked. "Other than you being in the navy and a Cowgirls fan, I don't know very much about you, and you're up in my house."
Malcolm didn't look up from his work. "That's pretty much all there is to know. Born in Italy, 3rd generation sailor, Cowboys fan, never married…that's about it."
"Okay, then…tell me one thing about you that nobody else at Empire knows." Malcolm didn't seem like the type to back away from a challenge.
"Well…" Cookie, I want to bang your back out on the kitchen counter didn't seem like an appropriate thing to confess, so Malcolm went with Plan B. "I was a drum major in high school."
"You?" Cookie couldn't imagine this tall African god marching around in a lame-ass band uniform. She had attributed those gorgeous legs of his to basketball or track. Maybe football. But marching band?
"Yeah. Played clarinet. That's how I could read the notes in Lola's room. 'Bear Necessities.'"
"Impressive," Cookie said admiringly. "So you know your music theory and your Disney soundtracks. I'll remember that."
"Oh, God, we played so much Aladdin and Little Mermaid that I don't ever want to see either one of those movies ever again." Malcolm rolled his eyes at such corny memories. "I was the only black drum major, so all my ideas got shot down for two years straight. I wanted to do this piece from Malcolm X for my senior showcase. You remember the music when Denzel and all those guys marched down to the hospital?" Malcolm whistled a few bars. "It's called 'Fruit of Islam' by Terence Blanchard."
"I remember. It's my favorite scene in the movie. That would've been hot."
"Nothing out there on the field at any of the other high schools would've been like ours. But even though it was my senior showcase, you still had to have a majority vote to play it. Of course, I got outvoted 4-1. I think we did 'Shining Star' by Earth, Wind and Fire instead. Something nice and comfortable and familiar to white folks."
"Wait a minute now." Cookie teasingly waved the spoon she was using to mix honey into her cornbread mix. "You can't be disrespecting Earth, Wind and Fire in my house and think you won't get hurt."
"Don't get me wrong. I love the Elements." Malcolm finally looked up from his blueprints. "It's just that when you play in a band, it feels like it's the only black music they ever play. And it's always that song. And they always strip out all the soul, all the funk. It was so dry that we should've been arrested for a hate crime against all hearing people." Malcolm had to laugh at the memory, and Cookie joined him. "Plus Malcolm X came out my senior year, so it meant a lot to me. Me and my boys skipped school the day it came out."
"Your senior year?" This little boy? Jamal had been a baby when that film was released. "What, you some kind of whiz kid who skipped a bunch of grades?"
"Not even," Malcolm laughed. "I started school a year late, and I barely graduated on time. I'm class of '93."
"Okay, waitwaitwait." By now, Cookie was thoroughly confused. "Malcolm, how old are you?"
"I'll be 41 in April."
"You're kidding." Malcolm wasn't some wide-eyed innocent after all. In fact, Cookie and Malcolm weren't even four full years apart in age. That changed things. That changed things a lot.
"C'mon, Cookie. Don't start giving me hell about looking young." That shy, sweet smile of Malcolm's wasn't helping matters one bit. "What about you?" he asked as he pulled up the calculator app on his phone. "What year did you graduate?"
"2003. Dropped out before the 9th grade so I could raise Andre. Got my GED when I was in prison."
"That's good. A lot of people don't bother to go back when they drop out of school." Malcolm knew plenty of people who dropped out of high school, but if Malcolm was understanding correctly, Cookie never even went to high school. "Do you ever plan to enroll in college? I bet you'd do well."
"Nah. After I got my master's, I figured that was enough." Cookie dropped that bomb casually, over her shoulder, but she knew Malcolm was shocked. Cookie never told anyone she'd finished graduate school except for Carol. Jamal found out on accident. Even Lucious didn't know."Funny thing is that now that I have it, I don't know what to do with it."
"Frame it and hang it up in your office, of course. That's where mine is. Don't tell me you lost yours."
Come to think of it, Anika's degrees were hanging up in her office, and so were Andre's. Cookie always thought that was because they'd graduated from Ivy League schools. She had no idea that displaying one's college diploma was the norm. "Jamal has my bachelor's degree. My master's is in my closet."
"Can I see it?"
"Why?" A shot of annoyance ran through Cookie. "You think it's not real?"
"Oh, no. It's just that I've never been in the presence of a master before." Malcolm stood up and bowed at the waist, making Cookie smile. "Okay, sure," she agreed shyly. "It's in my closet."
Cookie had looked at her diploma exactly one time in her entire life, and that was to make sure the spelling of her name was right. Standing in her walk-in closet with her back to the door, Cookie didn't realize that Malcolm had followed her when she left the front room. Now he was standing behind her. "Mercy College," he read aloud over her shoulder. "Loretha Holloway Lyon."
Cookie hated her name with a passion, but Malcolm made it sound sexy, as if they were sharing a secret between them. "When I filled out the information, I wrote that Cookie was my birth name. I guess they went back to check."
Standing behind her, Malcolm's voice was deep and low in Cookie's ear. When he leaned in to hold her diploma, his arms were practically around her waist. "You got a master's degree in Legal Studies? Isn't that like a step below getting an actual law degree?"
"Yeah." Cookie was surprised Malcolm even knew what an MLS degree was. Her major was one of the reasons why Cookie never brought it up. It sounded like something a person would earn in at the local community college and tire repair. Then there was the question Cookie already knew Malcolm was about to ask: "So, are you going to law school?" Cookie hated that question. Her fellow inmates had asked her so many times, followed immediately by, "You've seen the system from the inside. That would have to give you an edge."
"Nah. I got this because there was nothing to do." If Cookie backed up just a bit, or even leaned her head back, the two of them would be touching. Was this his way of trying to get close to her? "I just want to make music. If Anika drops dead, maybe I'll make head of A&R." Cookie forced herself to turn around. She was standing face-to-face with Malcolm now, and Cookie could smell Malcolm's aftershave. One thing that turned Cookie on in the worst way was a good-smelling man.
"Well, until you get your morbid wish, I'm sure Empire has a legal department, right? You could give Vernon a run for his money." Malcolm took Cookie's degree and held it out at arm's length. "This would look great in a large frame hanging over some expensive-ass leather chair and a bunch of fat law books."
"Why does it matter to you?" Cookie took her degree from Malcolm, shoved it back in tube and put it back on the shelf – where it belonged, as far as she was concerned. Her heart was racing and even though it was a walk-in closet, she suddenly felt boxed in.
Malcolm held his hands up. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to insult you or anything." Cookie was straightening out the clothes and shoes she'd knocked over, and she didn't respond. "I still have that other room to do, so...I better get back to work." When Cookie still didn't answer, Malcolm turned and left, walking back down the hall.
"Oh, my God," Cookie slumped to the ground and brought her hands to her knees. She wondered if Malcolm heard how fast her heart had been beating, or how she began breathing so fast that she felt light-headed. Cookie tried to get herself together by sitting up straight and taking slow, deep breaths, as she had done thousands of times before back in prison. The clean scent of Malcolm's body still lingered in the air. She could still feel him close to her, his voice in her ear as soft and intimate as a kiss. Except for Lucious, Cookie had never been that close to another man before. It felt good. It felt damned good.
The spare room in Cookie's apartment had all the makings of a safe room. The only thing Malcolm didn't like was that it didn't have a bathroom. There could be no long-term stay. But it was perfect for a security door. It could lock behind her with the push of a button. It could be wired for an intercom that could also make outgoing calls if the nearby cellular towers went down. And the plans could be so minimal that the room could still serve as something else, such as an office or a guest bedroom.
Malcolm had just started the measurements when Cookie came from down the hall. "I didn't mean to talk to you like that," she apologized, leaning against the door frame. "Around the time they started talking to me about parole, I started thinking about law school." That was one thing had Cookie never told anybody, not even Carol. "I studied for months, aced the practice LSAT – the test you have to take to get into law school, you know? I signed up for the first available test date…Malcolm, my scores were so bad that you wouldn't believe I could read."
Malcolm nodded, remembering back to his own college troubles. "When I dropped out of college, I had to take all these tests to get back in," he told Cookie. "My scores were so low that I had to take all these remedial classes, even though I had college credits. I almost didn't go back because I didn't want to take all those extra classes. It had been like, 15 years since I was in school, but I felt like a complete idiot."
"Really?" Cookie couldn't imagine a man as smart as Malcolm having any difficulties in school, at any level.
"Yeah. But I stuck with it and I got my bachelor's degree. And now I'm studying for the GRE – the graduate record exam. I'm thinking about going to John Jay for a master's in Security Management. So, Ms. Cookie Lyon," Malcolm added with a smile as he stood and dusted his jeans off, "now you know three things about me that nobody else at Empire knows. I was a drum major in the band, I had trouble getting back into college, and I'm studying to get into graduate school."
"Ooh, scandalous," Cookie teased. "I'll try to keep it a secret so I don't ruin your reputation."
"Ha, ha. Very funny. Now it's your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"Your turn to tell me three things about you that nobody knows." Malcolm set his pencil and ruler down. "Let's hear it."
Cookie thought it over. "I can't make it nobody, since I'm related to half of the Empire brass. But…okay, most people don't know about my master's degree. So that's one. And nobody knows that I took the LSAT. That's two."
"Okay. Now you owe me another one. Make it a good one."
A good one, huh? I got your good one. Cookie flashed Malcolm her most innocent smile. "While you were in the spare room doing those measurements for your blueprints, I was in my walk-in closet touching myself while thinking about you."
The look on Malcolm's face was a perfect combination of flattery, confusion and shock. Cookie laughed so hard that she almost cried. "Very funny," Malcolm finally said, ducking his head and trying to hide a huge smile. "That was a good one. I had that coming." He stopped laughing all of a sudden. "That was a joke, right?"
"You'll never know, will you?" Cookie laughed as she turned to leave.
"Wait!" Malcolm protested with a smile. "That's not fair. You still owe me a secret, Cookie."
"Yeah, I do. And as long as I do, we'll always have something to talk about." Cookie winked. "Come and help me cook these beef tips and rice when you're done in here."
"Yes, ma'am." Malcolm returned Cookie's wink with a mock salute, and she giggled and left. Cookie Lyon, giggling, Malcolm thought with a shake of his head. Whoda thunk it? To Malcolm's relief, Cookie wasn't mad at him after all. In fact, Cookie wanted Malcolm to stay. And Malcolm wasn't ready to leave.
Cookie, I'm flattered that I find you attractive…wait, that's not right. I'm flattered that you…that I… "Never mind," Malcolm muttered under his breath. He'd get his thoughts together later. Besides, the words just didn't ring true anymore.
TBC