Laz Delgado.

It was Malcolm's job to study things. The way the suave Hispanic man was ducking the cameras and obscuring his face during a live stream of a Dynasty event made Malcolm suspicious. It was like homeboy didn't want to be seen. Plus, that name was needling him for some reason.

Malcolm did a little calling around and a whole lot of background checking. It took a while, but Malcolm found what he was looking for: a news story about Laz when he was going by the name Sandino. He'd married a lovely young lounge singer about seven years ago, then had her house put in his name, promptly sold it for the money, and disappeared. Cold-blooded bastard, too – his wife was raising her dead sister's three children.

Immediately, Malcolm called Cookie to relay the information, only to discover that Cookie had blocked his phone number once she'd broken things off with him. Malcolm's emotions ranged from embarrassment to anger and everything in-between. In the past, Malcolm had considered sending her an email or some flowers to congratulate her after the party crash that put Lyon Dynasty on the map, but Malcolm already simped himself by asking her to move to D.C. with him, so he didn't. Now he couldn't reconnect with Cookie even if he wanted to.

Security issues. Malcolm thought a few months later, a smirk on his face as TMZ spilled all the tea about Cookie's new financial woes, plus the rumors of Hakeem's supposed attack and assault. Sandino strikes again. Had Cookie not done Malcolm so dirty, he could've saved her from such humiliation. "Fuck her," Malcolm said aloud. He didn't mean it, but it felt good to say.

Hakeem Lyon contacted Malcolm about two months later. Cookie's Cookout was back on, and Lyon Dynasty was in the black again. Now Hakeem wanted to make sure that everything ran forward smoothly. For that he needed security – the best security that money could buy. "I'm sorry, Hakeem," Malcolm responded. "But I don't do commercial security anymore. I can give you the numbers of a couple of people I know, though."

"Look, Malcolm. I get why you're still mad at my mom-"

"This isn't about your mother, Hakeem-"

"-but what happened, this whole breach thing…it's foul, man. Really messed up. Just let me explain, man. Gimme two minutes. Okay?"

With that, Hakeem told Malcolm the whole story: about how Cookie had been snowed in by the handsome Laz-dino, how Laz led her on in order to bilk her for her money and slept with her at the same time, how they'd kidnapped him and beat him up, how Laz convinced Cookie to hire the very men who had beaten him ("Wait, what?" Malcolm asked incredulously).

"You know what my mom told Porsha once?" Hakeem said out of nowhere. "She said you were the best man she'd ever had in her life."

"Then why did she block my phone calls?" Malcolm questioned coolly. He didn't care about Cookie any more. He didn't…

"You know why," Hakeem said quietly, sadly. "You know why my mother had to cut herself off from you completely."

Of course Malcolm knew. Lucious.

For a while, the men sat in awkward silence. "I believe in my mother's dream, Malcolm. So will you when you see it up close. It's just…" Hakeem took a ragged breath, and Malcolm could hear the pain in his voice. "It's just that don't want to die for it. That's all."

So here Malcolm was two days later, jaw set, face grim, totally professional as he waited for Hakeem to meet him at Cookie's home. "We're going to have to have it out sooner or later," Malcolm said when Hakeem asked if Malcolm wanted to wait until Hakeem showed up to see Cookie. "Besides, this is about business. Nothing more." He could practically hear Hakeem smirking through the phone, but it was true. Malcolm was here for Hakeem, not for Cookie. This wasn't a social call. This was-

"Malcolm!?"

-a mistake. That's what this was. Malcolm thought he'd purged Cookie out of his system. She was just a one-time thing. And she wasn't even a particularly good time, either. Cookie with her clumsy, awkward touches, her self-loathing masked by bravado and shit-talking, her need to bury herself in blankets and towels even after they'd slept together. Cookie hadn't even come from underneath their blanket the first time they had sex, and her dry-ass, tip-only I-don't-wanna-look-too-much-like-a-ho blow jobs should have been barred by law. Definitely a woman whose was more talk than action.

But once he was finally inside of her, Cookie felt so good that Malcolm felt like he was going to burst. She would stop, stall, go, whimper, stop, stall...it was too much to take. "Ride!" Malcolm finally ordered, smacking Cookie on the thigh.

Cookie looked down at him in shock. "So much for me being in charge, huh?" she choked, betrayed.

Malcolm seized Cookie from behind her neck and jerked her down for a long, deep kiss. "Listen to me, Cookie. If I was in charge, you wouldn't be wearing that top, I wouldn't be wearing this condom, and we would've been finished 20 minutes ago. Now, take it," he ordered as Cookie sat up, her deer-in-headlights expression replaced with a look of determination. "Take it like you take everything else that's yours." Malcolm might have pissed Cookie off or shaken her up, but she rode Malcolm like a bicycle in the Tour de France for the rest of the trip.

Before Malcolm could tell Cookie that he was strictly there on a professional matter, Cookie shot into his arms and buried her face in his chest. All of Malcolm's resolve melted. "Hello, Cookie," Malcolm greeted softly, succumbing to the warmth that was spreading across his body. Cookie, who bit her lip as her hands and lips and tongue shyly explored his body, whose honey-colored skin glowed underneath firelight, who came to life with a little coaching and a lot of encouragement. With her head thrown back, body tense, hips thrusting forward and hands flat on his chest, watching Cookie experience her first climax that wasn't tied to Lucious was the most beautiful thing Malcolm had ever seen.

When Cookie looked down at Malcolm after the first time they made love - her thigh still stinging from that pop Malcolm gave her - shock was written all over her face once again. It was as if she'd forgotten that it was Malcolm, not Lucious, had brought her so much pleasure. Then she laughed – a boisterous, joyful, newly liberated laugh. Every orgasm was a blow against Lucious's hold on her, and Cookie rained a lot of blows on Lucious that weekend. She laughed a lot, too.

"I would've called," Malcolm murmured in her ear as Cookie nuzzled the crook of Malcolm's neck. "But you blocked my number."

"I know." Cookie squeezed Malcolm even tighter. "I'm so sorry, Malcolm. You didn't deserve that, I know." She pulled away from him, then took his face in her hands. "Forgive me? Please?"

Well, at least Cookie had acknowledged that Malcolm hadn't done anything to deserve the way she'd treated him. "We'll see," Malcolm said, a smile tugging at his lips. How could he not forgive her when Cookie was looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes? "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yeah! Well…I guess so. It's a mess in here, I'm sorry." Just as Malcolm remembered, Cookie's apartment was clean, but cluttered. The all-jungle-all-the-time motif had been largely overhauled. Malcolm glanced at the stuff lying on Cookie's coffee table. Blanket, heating pad, hot tea...yep. Malcolm had two sisters, so he knew all the signs of the dreaded Aunt Flo. He wasn't sure about the pharmacy sitting on her coffee table, though. Come to think of it…

Wow…is that Cookie?

Cookie didn't look bad, but she did look rough as hell. Malcolm knew Cookie griped about wanting to lose a few extra pounds, but it seemed like Cookie had lost more than a few. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes bloodshot and dull, even jaundiced. Cookie had never been a youthful-looking woman, but now she looked every bit of her 45 years. Still, even in a sloppy ponytail, baggy sweats and fuzzy, mismatched socks, Cookie Lyon was still the most beautiful woman Malcolm had ever seen.

Meanwhile, Cookie couldn't believe how young Malcolm was looked now that his hair and mustache were aligned with the personal grooming regulations at his job. With his hair trimmed low and his facial hair all but gone, Malcolm barely looked a day over 30. And Cookie knew she was looking raggedy. They were only three years apart, but Malcolm looked as if he could be Cookie's son. In a way, it helped the situation. Malcolm wasn't sexy anymore – he looked far too youthful to be sexy - but he was still so beautiful. Malcolm's aura just radiated all around him. "So what are you doing back here in New York?" Cookie swiftly gathered up all the pills, along with a couple of pamphlets, and shoved them into a kitchen drawer.

"Hakeem called about wanting some security for the Cookout." Malcolm didn't mention Laz, but Cookie knew that Malcolm knew what was up. "Is everything okay?"

It was such a loaded question, and what could Cookie say other than "yeah"? Malcolm, the last guy I had sex with took all my money, kidnapped my child and gave me two STDs. I still might lose everything I've worked for. Oh, and I might have to have a hysterectomy. Good seeing you, though! "So…" Cookie took Malcolm's hands and led him to the couch. "What's going on in your life?"

"Well…the job's going well, and I'm thinking about going back to school like we talked about...and I'm engaged." Malcolm said more, but Cookie didn't hear him. Why was she so surprised? Malcolm was a great guy. Of course he would move on from her. He deserved happiness. Malcolm deserved a woman who knew a good thing when she –

"Engaged!?" Cookie interrupted Malcolm, her body growing numb.

"Yeah. Engaged." Malcolm had the nerve to smile. "Her name is Jazmine."

As if Cookie gave a damn what the bitch's name was. "Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to help, Cookie," Malcolm explained. "I don't want to see anything happen to you," he called as Cookie jerked away from him, standing with her back turned. "I'm here as a friend."

"A friend?" It took everything in Cookie's body not to slap Malcolm. He'd come back to her in her dreams, then back into her life as a friend? Was he secretly here to gloat about how he'd been able to move on? He had to be. Because certainly Malcolm knew that Cookie didn't give a damn that Malcolm's new girl was a teacher, a military brat, a Broadway fanatic, a Master of Education…

Wait a minute. Something about the description of Malcolm's girl was triggering Cookie's memory. She turned around and glared at Malcolm, whose lips were twitching slightly. "Punk ass!" Cookie shrieked, throwing herself on top Malcolm with all her might. Jazmine was the name of Malcolm's youngest sister, who had just started graduate school when the two of them went away together.

"Oh, God…the look on your face..." Malcolm gasped, pulling Cookie into his arms. "You weren't even going to pretend to be happy for me, were you?" he teased, tickling her gently while she squealed. It hurt like hell, but Cookie didn't care. "So jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Cookie threw her arms around Malcolm and pouted. "I just want you to have the best, that's all."

"Oh?" Malcolm teased, sitting Cookie in his lap. "Who's the best for me, Cookie?" When Cookie didn't answer, he placed kisses over both of her eyelashes. "Could it be the most beautiful woman in the world?"

That sweet, sexy smile of Malcolm's made Cookie's heart melt. "Maybe," Cookie said with a confidence that she didn't really feel.

"Maybe," Malcolm repeated, his voice low and husky. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted it upward. "Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?"

When Cookie didn't answer, Malcolm's hand slid down to the belt on her bath robe. Even after Cookie got to the point that she was strolling around the cabin wearing nothing but her gray snakeskin boots – which looked even better on Malcolm's shoulders – she still dropped her gaze as Malcolm slowly opened her robe, revealing her bare breasts and stomach. "Look at me, Cookie," Malcolm instructed, and she did. "Who's the most beautiful woman in the world?" he repeated, fully expecting an answer.

"...I am." And for a brief, shining moment, Cookie believed it.

So much between them had gone unsaid that day in her office when Cookie kissed Malcolm goodbye. She would never forget the soft click of the door as he closed it behind him, polite as ever. Cookie's hands were trembling so badly that she collapsed in her chair and cried - partly because she had let Malcolm go, and partly because he actually went. Now he was back. "Why didn't you stay?" she asked as Malcolm's warm, strong hands cupped her breasts, making the muscles in her stomach twitch.

"Because you didn't ask me to," Malcolm answered. "I wasn't about to argue. But I understand now," he went on before Cookie could protest Malcolm's words. "You didn't need me to take care of you. I was wrong to ask."

"Ooooh," Cookie whispered when Malcolm leaned in and kissed her neck in that place that always made her dizzy. "I didn't want you to leave," she whispered while Malcolm peppered Cookie's neck and chest with kisses. "I wanted you to stay and fight with me. But I understand now," she added when Malcolm pulled back, a quizzical look on his face. "It wasn't your fight. It was mine."

"And you won," Malcolm continued.

"And you're here," Cookie smiled.

"With the most beautiful woman in the world," Malcolm finished. "I'm standing here with the best, Cookie." Their kisses were longer now, deeper and full of wanting. Nothing was between them now except-"Aah!"

A sharp, piercing pain in her side brought Cookie out of her reverie and back to real life. Cookie shoved Malcolm away from her and stood, shaking. What was she thinking? Malcolm couldn't come near her for at least two more weeks, if not longer. "I'm sorry, Cookie," Malcolm said. "I wasn't even thinking."

"No, it's okay. I just..." Cookie's eyes burned with tears and shame. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I just can't right now."

"Cookie." Malcolm was just happy that he hadn't offended her. "You don't have anything to apologize for." He rose from the couch and held Cookie from behind. "Is it okay I hold you?"

Cookie nearly cried with relief. "I'd love that, Malcolm." Sometimes, dreams really did come true.

Was this what heaven felt like? Malcolm's body was so solid and warm as he wrapped his arms around her. He smelled just as good as he always did. It was a good thing her couch was so large, because Cookie was way too comfortable to move. "Grow your hair back," Cookie ordered, feeling protected in Malcolm's arms. "I don't like you without hair. You look like a virgin."

"A virgin?" Malcolm teased. "Girl, you know better." He bucked his hips, and Cookie laughed. "You okay?" she asked, feeling his arousal underneath her.

"Mmm. I'll be fine." Malcolm kissed Cookie on the cheek and squeezed her. "I've gone without for a lot longer."

"Yeah, but…you might not have to." Emboldened by Malcolm's presence, Cookie stood up, took a breath, and let her robe drop to the floor. Malcolm's eyebrows shot up in appreciation. Sure, Cookie was a little on the skinny side, but it was still a lovely sight. He licked his lips and smiled, eyes twinkling and lips twitching…again. "What?" Cookie asked, knowing that Malcolm was amused by something he was seeing. "What, boy?" Malcolm had seen every imperfection on her body - the stretch marks, the Cesarean section scar from Hakeem's birth, the not-so-small cuts from a botched breast augmentation that had to be redone when Cookie out of prison. He'd kissed them all. So what was so funny?

Malcolm tilted his head back. "Nothing," he said, staring at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Cookie wasn't buying it. "What? What, Malcolm?" she demanded when Malcolm closed his eyes and pursed his lips.

"Nothing! Really!" Malcolm promised. Then he couldn't hold his laughter back. "Nice panties, Cookie."

Cookie's underwear was the kind that was made for comfort, not for seduction, the kind that came in pairs of six at the local Walmart and were replaced every few months or so. The kind of panties that women with sexually transmitted diseases tended to wear when they didn't want to ruin their sexy underwear with discharges and suppositories. Tears burned in Cookie's eyes as she scrambled for her bath robe. What if Malcolm could smell her sickness?

"Hey. Get back here." How crazy was it that Cookie Lyon in a pair of plain black panties was sexier than any other woman could dream of being? "I love your panties," Malcolm promised, his hands full of cotton-clad ass. "They match your socks."

Cookie had forgotten all about her socks. "No! Leave 'em on," Malcolm ordered as Cookie sat back up. There was nothing sexy about them, but they made up Cookie's wonderful, joyful, newly liberated essence from so long ago.

The charming thing about Cookie was that she was equal parts shy and bold. The same woman who spread her legs on her ex-husband's dining room table to flash a picture was the same woman who was too shy to take her top off the first time they made love. So Malcolm wasn't surprised that a topless Cookie straddled his waist, undid his belt buckle and froze before lowering his zipper. "Go for it," Malcolm encouraged Cookie. "You know what to do."

A lifetime ago, Malcolm spent his entire weekend in the Berkshires giving encouragement and barking out commands like he was in a bad Wesley Pipes film. It had all been worth it then, and it was worth it now. With her eyes never leaving his, Cookie dragged the zipper down so slowly that the sound broke the silence in the room. "Welcome back," she greet while Malcolm bit his lip at her velvet touch.

"Glad to be back." And that was all Malcolm could say before Cookie slid backward and lowered her head. Malcolm had been all ready to give Cookie another speech on reciprocity, just as he had the day she tried to go down on him in her office and on the night he took her home after he shot Reg. It wasn't that Malcolm didn't like getting head or anything; he just preferred to do it at a time when he could give as much as he was getting. But this Cookie seemed different somehow. She was more skilled, far more confident, and was definitely enjoying this as much as Malcolm was. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled, gripping the sides of the couch. Unlike that night with Reg, Cookie didn't seem like she was doing this because she felt obligated or because she was doing Malcolm a favor. Cookie was doing this because what she genuinely wanted was Malcolm's co-

"Oh, shit!"

Now all three Lyons sons, at one point in their lives, had walked in on Cookie being intimate with a man. Like Andre and Jamal before him, Hakeem stood frozen at the door, his face a mixture of shock and disgust at his mother with her head between Malcolm's legs. "Hakeem!" Cookie cried, forgetting that her mouth was full.

"AAAAGGGGGHHHH!" As Malcolm slid to the floor and prayed for death, Cookie jumped to her feet, forgetting that her robe had long been discarded. "Get out, Hakeem!" she screamed.

It was too much for Cookie's youngest son to handle. Hakeem took one look at his mother's department store panties and mismatched socks and Malcolm writhing around on the floor, and howled with laughter. "Get out! Get out!" Cookie screamed, but Hakeem just laughed harder. By the time Cookie dashed to her bedroom and slammed the door, Hakeem had slumped to his knees, his head on the floor.

"Alright, Hakeem." Malcolm's voice was firm, and while it carried no threat behind it, it was enough to sober Hakeem up for a moment. Than Hakeem saw that Malcolm hadn't zipped his pants up, revealing his navy blue and white boxers, and lost it all over again. "Okay, okay, okay!" Hakeem finally gasped, pulling himself together. "Thanks for coming, Malcolm." Hakeem reached out to shake Malcolm's hand, then stopped. "Did you wash your hands, young man?" he asked, a comically serious look on his face.

"Wash this, you little punk." In the blink of an eye, Malcolm had Hakeem in a headlock. "Aaggh!" Hakeem tried to wriggle out of Malcolm's grasp, to no avail. "Not the hair, man! Not the hair!"

"Get him, Malcolm!" Cookie encouraged, coming from her bedroom in 76ers sweats and socks that matched. She rushed over and delivered a few playful swats of her own. Finally, Malcolm and Cookie decided to let poor Hakeem be. "Are those the blueprints I asked you for?" Malcolm asked, pulling Cookie into his lap on the couch as he gestured to a large bag in Hakeem's hand.

"Nah, those are in that tube over there. This stuff's from Anika." Hakeem placed the bag on the table and began pulling out Caribbean cuisine. "She said she made too much soup last night and thought it might make you feel better. Y'know, because of the nausea and everything."

"Nausea?" Malcolm looked at Cookie, who tensed up in his arms. "Cookie, you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Cookie said. "And how does she know I have nausea, Big Mouth?"

"Sorry, Ma," Hakeem said contritely. "She was asking me how you were doing and I might've said something about how you haven't been eating…"

"Hakeem!" Cookie hissed. Dammit, didn't this boy know better than to do all that talking?

"…and she said that coconut soup is a good cure for nausea. Not sure what all the rest of this is, but she says it's really hard to cook for just one person."

"Or just two people," Cookie said sourly. That bitch still had her baby's nose wide open. Hakeem didn't confirm his mother's words, though the smile on his face said it all. "I ain't eating anything she cooked. She probably cursed it."

"Bet! Can I have it?" Hakeem was already grabbing a spoon. "Malcolm, you hungry? My baby can cook."

"Sure, I'll take some." Cookie shot him a dirty look, but Malcolm just shrugged and smiled. It had been a long time since he'd had homecooked island food. "So you hired Anika back, huh?" he asked Cookie, who was checking out the spread with more than just a casual eye.

"Yeah." Cookie would never admit it, but Lyon Dynasty's saving grace was Anika Calhoun. Cookie broke down in tears before she was able to pull herself together and call Anika. Cookie had her knee pads and lubricant in place, ready to kiss as much high-yella ass as need. But Anika handled the situation with surprising grace. "Just tell me when to come back to work, Cookie," she interrupted. From there, Anika took the shambles that was the LD financial department and put it back together, penny by penny.

Hakeem always thought it was a shame that Cookie and Anika couldn't admit their mutual admiration for one another. Secretly, Anika adored Cookie. Likewise, Cookie was very protective of Anika, almost like a mother figure. Hakeem told Malcolm over the phone how Cookie had fired a Dynasty employee who was making inappropriate comments about her. And Malcolm, Guyanese boy that he was, knew that I made too much food was Caribbean for I made this for you. Anika was looking out for her boss, but she would never admit it.

"Did you say that's coconut soup?" Malcolm asked, reaching for the spoon Hakeem was handing him. "If it is, you eat it cold." There was more than just soup. There was rice seasoned with broccoli and beef, some fresh baked zucchini rolls and a small cake that Hakeem discreetly handed to Malcolm to hide from his mother.

Malcolm took a small sip from his bowl and was impressed. Anika didn't strike Malcolm as a woman who knew how to cook, but this was straight up, 100% island food. It wasn't his mother's cooking, but it was damned good for a younger woman living in America. "You said you didn't want any, right?" Malcolm asked Cookie.

Cookie looked over at Malcolm and Hakeem. "Why?" she asked curiously, trying not to be distracted by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

"Oh…nothing," Malcolm answered, just before he and Hakeem lunged for the Tupperware bowl containing the bread. "Hey! Hey!" Cookie yelled above the ruckus. "Gimme my soup!"

"You said we could have it!" Hakeem yelled, laughing at Malcolm was forced to concede to Hakeem or risk spilling all of the bread onto the floor. "Here, Ma." Hakeem served Cookie a bowl of coconut soup. "Just get something in your stomach, okay? It doesn't have to be a whole lot."

Cookie spooned a bite of soup, then closed her eyes and let out a moan that could've rivaled any one of her orgasms in the Berkshires. "Oh, my God." After just two bites, Cookie tossed the spoon to the side and began to slurp the soup straight of the bowl. It was her first real meal in weeks.

"Wait, Cookie. Slow down." Being a former sailor, Malcolm knew better that food served in close quarters under stressful circumstances led to heightened reactions. Jamal learned the hard way when he snatched a shrimp off Cookie's lap and nearly had his hand speared. So Malcolm approached her from the front, but Cookie jerked away anyway. "You're going to make yourself sick if you eat too much too soon, Cook. Slow down on that soup, okay?"

"My soup," Cookie said, clutching her bowl possessively. She'd get sick if she wanted to.

"Anika sent over some bread, too. Do you wa-" Hakeem didn't even finish before Cookie snatched the container of rolls. "Damn, Ma," Hakeem marveled, so grateful to see his mother eating food again. "You gonna eat all of that?"

"Mmm-hmm," Cookie replied through a mouthful of bread, which she chased down with a swallow of soup. Anika had sent over enough food to last Cookie for a week, but Malcolm wasn't too sure she was going to make it to Wednesday.

"Can we at least get a roll?" Malcolm asked. He hadn't had good zucchini bread in years. Judging by the way Cookie was tearing up hers, Anika could bake as well as she could cook. "Just a little piece of bread?"

"My bread," Cookie mumbled, cramming another roll in her mouth.

"Please, Cookie?" Malcolm was just as happy to see Cookie enjoying her meal as Hakeem was. "Just the crust? A little bitty crumb?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Well," Hakeem reasoned, "anyone who eats this much bread can't possibly have any of the cassava cake Anika sent over."

"Cake?" Cookie's eyes lit up like Christmas.

"Yeah, cake." Malcolm grinned. "But we won't tell you where it is until we get some food."

Cookie glared at Malcolm, as if she couldn't believe she had to give up some of her food in exchange for homemade cake. She scowled and gestured to the silverware drawer, unaware that that was the drawer that held all her pills and So Your Nasty Ass Got Burned by a Pendejo Like a Dumb Bitch information. Cookie didn't hear the rattle of the medication, or the change of tone in Malcolm's voice when he spoke to her. She was too busy face down in her soup, dreaming of cassava cake.

TBC

Note: I truly believe Adam Rodriguez is the worst actor since Keanu Reeves, and I will never miss an opportunity to shade his bullshit career. And yes, the Sandino story is Tyler Perry reference, where Adam's character (Sandino) married Taraji's character (April).

Note 2: If you go back and watch the love scene at the Berkshires, you'll notice that, for whatever reason, Cookie still has her top on while she's having sex with Malcolm.

Note 3: For those of you who have not been blessed with the presence of Wesley Pipes in your life, just Google "Wesley Pipes quotes." You're welcome.