Black, Starr, & Frost was the oldest jewelry store in America. It was founded in 1810 and, in the ensuing century plus, found itself waxing, waning, and enduring. Found at the corner of 5th Avenue and 48th Street in Manhattan, it provided luxury jewelry to the customers who could afford to shop there. Anyone who peered through the window would assume that a store like that could never run out of money. But they’d be wrong, thought Antony- the young man formerly known as Malcolm Byrne. 

Just about all the customers had cleared out, other than a couple stragglers. The owner, Nicholas Larson, owed some people quite a bit of money.  Antony had been watching from outside for a long while, waiting for the last people to clear out but as the minutes ticked by and the air grew colder, the warmth of the building began to call out to him.  He supposed there wasn’t much harm in wandering inside to ‘browse’ while the last few customers were handled. After all, the owner wouldn’t know him from Job.  

Trying to keep a low profile, the young Italian man walked into the jewelry shop.  He shook his peacoat off, letting snowfall just inside the doorway, careful not to reveal the gun strapped to his chest.  Then, with only a subtle nod to the owner who noticed him entering while he was assisting one of the last customers of his day, he wander over to a case of necklaces and began looking at them as if he might be interested in picking one out.  The truth was, he hoped that the owner didn’t decide to come chat while the lady he was helping debated her purchase. It would make what was coming later harder. Antony flexed his hand unconsciously.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” said Larson, “but the store closes soon. I don’t think she’ll have enough time to try on each of these-”

“Trust me, sir. You’ll want to indulge her.” The older woman’s eyes insisted more than her voice. The woman in question seemed to be in her thirties and, as Antony assessed her, he strongly suspected that she had a gun in a shoulder holster.

Unable to resist temptation, Antony stepped to the next case over, closing the space between him and the women.  He pretended to be looking at bracelets as he listened in on the conversation a little more closely - wondering what sort of woman had wandered into the shop tonight.  Was she a bodyguard?  That would probably make sense though it was a rare woman who entered the profession, Antony had huge respect for them.  His own teacher, after all, had been a woman with such skillset and his family had more than a few formidable women who would never forgive him for underestimating a person with a gun simply because they were female.

The truth was before noticing the gun he’d considered trying to encourage the women to leave sooner rather than later.  He’d promised Jack and Izzy he’d try to make it by for dinner tonight.  It had been a tradition in the family for so many years and the three of them had agreed to try to make dinner together once a week just as Aunt Aurora and Uncle Billy used to ask of them.  Antony looked at his watch.  If he hurried he might make it on time… but the owner was already behind on his payments.  The last thing he needed was someone chasing off potential paying customers. 

A strikingly beautiful young woman with blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, and a body accentuated by a slim, form-fitting cream dress strolled by Antony without a second look. 

“This one,” said young woman.“It’s destiny.”

For a moment, Antony thought that he was being addressed- but it was obvious that the comment was directed at the jeweler and the other woman. 

“Then will you be purchasing-”

“Although,” continued the young woman, “I should probably try the others on, just to be safe. Abby, please go get the car.”

The older woman nodded and left the shop, while the younger one disappeared again into the back. Antony found himself alone with the owner.  His eyes lingered on the back where the woman had wandered off to.  

“More back there?”  he asked the owner, wondering if she was shopping still and he hadn’t seen all there was to see.  Was she browsing a private collection, something more valuable maybe?

“More people? Or more merchandise?” said the owner as he gave a tired smile.

Antony nodded, “Long day then?  I’m guessing she and her friends are trying on all your goods… if you like, I could let her know what I think she should get.  Maybe the opinion of a man with no horse in the race would help her along so you can get home at a decent time?”

“Friends? No, just her. For the last… hour and a half or so. My guess is that she’ll be back there another fifteen minutes or so. And you’re welcome to wait, of course, but-” The owner paused, trying to find a delicate way of saying that a girl like that probably didn’t care much for the opinion of someone who looked like they’d walked off the docks.

“Worst she’ll do is blow me off then I suppose I’m out nothing for having tried, right?”  He smirked, the corner of his lips pulling up toward his icy blue eyes.  He was more than familiar with this type.  As Antony walked toward the doorway, his thoughts drifted first to Izzy and then Brigitte.  He missed her, but she was just this sort.  Dressed as he was today, Brigitte might not have given him a second look either… maybe.  She was, if Tara was to be believed, ready to marry Rex before she’d passed.  So who knew, maybe he didn’t know her quite as well as he thought. The owner raised a hand to stop him, but the young man was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice.

Entering the backroom he leaned on the door frame and quietly watched the woman in the cream-colored dress.  She wasn’t hard on the eyes by any stretch.  A pity that he was working and that she probably had an ugly personality, if the shop owner was to be believed.  She might be good for a laugh or two.

Antony saw the girl standing in front of a full-length mirror, admiring one of the necklaces she’d taken to try on. 

“What’s the occasion?”  He asked her, arms crossed over his chest.

The girl, who’d just started adjusting the shoulder straps on her dress, whipped around.

“Excuse me? Who are you?”

Antony couldn’t help but chuckle.  “A man with an eye for beautiful things.  I thought you might like an opinion since you seem torn on which item frames your face best.  I mean, you could take the opinion of another woman or the old man… but I’m guessing they aren’t your target audience.  Unless I’m mistaken, Miss... ?”

“Miss-take for assuming you’re my ‘target audience’ either,” said the woman, taking a side step toward a coat rack. “I’m quite capable of making my own purchases, thank you.”

Antony nodded, bringing his amusement into check.  “I’m sure you are, and you’re probably only trying on that necklace so you have a contrast to the far superior quarter carat solitaire pendant which was on the opposite wall.  I’m sure you’ll get to it though. The princess cut catches the light a lot better. Granted, in truth diamonds aren’t as rare as the price tag would indicate. It’s why the wives of politicians wear pearls instead.  Fine, perfect pearls are more rare and precious. You know that they’re grown? In a living being?” He nodded. “People actually dive down to the bottom of the ocean with knives in their mouths, holding their breath for minutes at a time to grab up the oysters which make them.  It’s quite impressive.” He shrugged and stood up from the door frame where he was leaning.

“Black pearls, by the way.  I was going to suggest you get a necklace with black ones… everyone wears white and pink.  A woman like you deserves to stand out from the crowd.” He tipped his hat. “Sorry to have interrupted you.  Hope your target audience appreciates the time you’ve put in.”

The young woman just stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you dressed like that if you know that much about fine jewelry?”

“Because, like the people who dive for pearls, I understand that things of real value are often hidden deep and under ugly things… only fools grab for shiny, over-priced baubles.  I don’t chase fools.  I like to know who I’m dealing with before I put in the time and effort.”  He arched an eyebrow, “Why are you dressed like that if you know so little about jewels?”

“I know plenty about jewelry, thank you very much.”

“If you say so, Doll.”  He gave her a wink, clearly intending to walk away.  “Good luck finding the right bauble and not getting ripped off at the register.”

“Do you make a habit of strolling into jewelry stores and insulting people?” she said, incredulous. “If you think the necklaces I’ve selected are baubles then I question exactly how many times you’ve visited the leading jewelers of London, Paris, and Rome. And if you call me doll again I am going to hit you with this coat rack.”

Antony clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, “Are you really insulted?”  He shook his head.  “Come here. I like you enough that I’m going to give you a free lesson in jewelry shopping.”  With that he walked back out to the owner.

“Nick,”  He said far more familiar with the owner than he should have been but genuinely not caring at this point.  “I’m going to do you a solid. This lady here would like to see a case you have in the vault. She’s going to buy a necklace from you … a real necklace.  Bring out the good stuff.  The stuff you keep insured.”

“Does this man work here?” demanded the young woman to the owner. “If so, you should fire him immediately. I’ve never met anyone so pretentious and arrogant and wrong in my entire life.”

“Arrogant and pretentious, yes, but also right.  The case Nick, bring the lady the good stuff.”  He said flatly.

“Uh, can I ask how you know about the other case, sir?” questioned the owner, with a dawning realization in his eyes.

“You know…”  Antony said flatly.  “... and we can close business with this lovely woman successfully so your talk with me after goes easier… or I can walk out and you can hope she buys enough of the junk from the front cases that it all goes your way.  I’m betting that she doesn’t though.  Might want to just trust me on this one and let me help you close a real deal.  What do you say?”

Nick looked back and forth between the two young people in his store, then he scurried off to the safe.

“Junk?” questioned the young woman. “And what’s this talk you’re having afterwards? Are you going to lecture him about divers with knives in their mouths?”

Antony didn’t reply, instead he let his eyes linger on her hair and then slowly slide down her body appreciating her openly and brazenly.  His blue eyes twinkled as he reached her face again. He took a position leaning against one of the cases waiting for the owner to return with the real goods.

The young woman’s eyes widened, and Antony could sense a speech coming when Nick returned, carrying a few boxes with him and stopping the woman’s outburst for now.

Antony patted the counter indicating he wanted the boxes personally.  “Let’s find a necklace worthy of that swan-like neck of yours. Something slender perhaps, with a large pendant to rest low between your… assets.”  He was shameless. It was something he’d been doing a lot of since coming to New York and had found it was infinitely more successful at catching attention than any other tactic he’d ever tried before.  When he wanted attention, it was the easiest way to get it and this arrogant dame, she deserved a little prick to her pride if nothing else.  

The young woman’s mouth dropped open, incredulous. “Mr. Larson, this man is harassing me and I insist that you tell him to leave. At once.”

“But Miss Renford, I-”

“At once! I have never been so insulted in my entire life. If he does not leave, I’ll be leaving myself- and taking all of my business to Tiffany’s.”

Antony turned with a box in hand and lifted out of it the most amazing pearl necklace.  A choker collar with a silver and ruby accent pendant and from it the largest single pearl Antony had ever seen.  It would rest perfectly just above her breasts. It was a stunning piece the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

“Not quite what I was thinking but… better.  Far better.” Antony said as he unhooked the clasp.  “Would you like to try it on?”

The young woman slapped away the necklace that he was holding out to her.

“Mr. Larson!” she insisted.

“Uh… sir, the young woman would like you to leave. Could you please… come back a bit later? Give us a few minutes to finish here, then we can speak? I really do need her business.”

Antony nodded and put the necklace safely back down into its.  “Yeah, I’ll come back later.”  He handed the box back to Larson and stuck his hands into his pockets and made his way towards the door taking only a heartbeat to glance back at the hellcat who would later regret not buying that necklace if she didn’t.  Shaking his head he tipped his hat respectfully to the dame, who was staring daggers at him, and went back out into the cold. As the door closed behind him, he heard the woman accost Nick. “What do you mean you need my business?”

Antony went across the street and settled back into the place he’d been waiting for Larson before.  The smirk hadn’t left his lips as he replayed the scene in his head again.  Most girls were falling all over themselves after just a few minutes of that - but her?  Oh she was a feisty one.  He regretted he wouldn’t get to spar with her again, but then sighed.  It was probably for the best.  He was too amused with her for his own good.  For her own good, really.  It was one thing to play games, but another entirely to get so distracted he forgot what the hell he was doing here… not at the jewelry store, but here in New York.  Silently he looked at his watch as he remembered Izzy and Jack’s dinner.  He was late.  Damn.

When Antony walked back into the shop, Nick Larson was beaming. ‘Good evening again, sir! I suspect I know what you’re here for…”

Antony nodded.  “You probably do.  You’re a bit behind, Nick.”  He sighed. “I hope the doll helped you with that?  She get the pearls?”

“She did, as well as a dozen other items when she heard about my financial situation,” said Nick with a content sigh.  “Come back in 12 hours and I’ll have a check for the full amount. I assure you.”

Antony glanced at his watch.  He knew what he had been paid to do.  If the guy tried to skip town, if things fell apart with the dame and her purchase, well, it would look bad for him.  He was trying to build a reputation, but … he knew who he wasn’t. What he wasn’t.  

“You do realize that if that doesn’t pan out, it’s not just your ass that my boss will take it out of… right?  I’m going to be very unhappy if I have to hunt you down just to kick your ass later.” Antony shook his head.  

“She already made the purchase!” insisted Nick. “I have the check from her, and I’ll deposit it as soon as the bank opens!”

“Just like that, eh?”  He smirked.  

The girl really is spunky.  

“Alright.  I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the cash.  Congrats on the sale, by the way.”  He turned and was going to leave before he looked back and asked, “Out of curiosity… what was her name?  I doubt I’ll run into her again but if I do, I’d like to know the name of the woman who is going to slap me senseless for what I’m going to say to her.”

“Her last name is Renford. I can’t say I know her first name, but a few friends of mine alerted me about her arrival. She’s been dropping money all around town and- wait, I suppose I can check the check for you…”

Nick removed a check from his pocket with a shaking hand, read it, and quickly returned it.

“Evelyn. Evelyn Renford.”

He nodded.  “Thanks, Nick.  Have a nice night.  I’ll see you tomorrow after the banks open.”  With that Antony pulled his coat closed tightly and made his way back out into the streets and hailed a cab headed towards Dyker Heights.

*

When “Antony” arrived at the house in Dyker Heights, he unlocked the front door and walked inside to the smell of homemade lasagna. He smiled and put down his things calling out, “It’s me.”

“Mal!” Izzy’s voice reached him shortly before the running woman did, bouncing off him and hugging him with a grin. “I’m not saying we were worried you were dead. But we were.”

“No we-” a male voice protested from the kitchen.

“Well, I was,” admitted Izzy. 

Grabbing his cousin he kissed her cheek.  “Well, I’m fine. Just held up by a rich brat with no real understanding of jewelry.”  He chuckled. “Dinner smells great.” He sat down on the bench by the door and began to take off his shoes.

“Jack made it, of course,” she sighed. “I cooked the wine. We have a bottle.”

“Half a bottle!” protested Jack.

“I might have had some,” said Izzy. “I was nervous. I mean, I get why you feel like you have to do this and all, but…” She shrugged. Izzy’s take it or leave attitude regarding “the life” was well known to Malcolm.

“I’ll try not to be late for all future dinners, so you don’t have to worry.”  He gave her a smile putting a hand on the small of her back and ushering her toward the dining room.  “And I’ll bring the wine next time.”

“Oh, please,” said Izzy, allowing herself to be ushered. “It’s just so fucking weird. Jack’s wearing oven mitts and cooking lasagna. You’re out shaking down jewelers. It’s just weird that it’s actually happening to us. Well, to you, but you know what I mean. I keep expecting Tara or Gavin or Cerise to walk through the door and tell us to go to bed.”

“Or Ori,” said Jack with a smirk.

“Uncle Billy was one mean cook - at least at breakfast time.  It’s not a real shock that Jack had it buried inside him this whole time… a talent which he kept  hidden right next to his drive to be a good student.”  He smirked at Jack and sat down at the table.

“Great student,” corrected Jack. 

“Oh yes, great.  How could I be so stupid?  Probably because I’m just some poor street rat… what do I know?”  he smirked, remembering Evelyn and shook his head as he reached for the breadsticks.

“You could easily get a degree,” said Jack. “But like you said, you don’t need one. Leave the classes to Izzy and I, I suppose.”

Izzy sighed. “I can’t believe I only have two weeks before I have to leave for classes.”

“Got to be exciting, heading off to the same college that your mom and Great-Aunt Tara went to.”  He smiled. “And isn’t one of the buildings named for Grandpa Salvatore’s donation? What did they call that one, the Luciano money-pile building?”

“Yea, well, we’re going to own half the campus at this rate. If the food isn’t good, I’m going to try to talk Taa into making another donation. What could be more appropriate than the Mastrosimone Cafeteria?” she laughed.

“A place to get your breakfast every day named for Uncle Billy’s family.  I think it’s fitting.” He chuckled. “Or maybe a wing for culinary studies or something?”  Antony took a bite of food, his face broke into a wide grin. “Speaking of which… Jack, if law doesn’t work out for you, you might look at becoming a chef.  This is damn good.”

Jack nodded his thanks through his chewing. 

“Going to be odd having you both off on some campus and not here at the house with me,” said Antony.  “Going to be damn quiet through the week.  I assume you will visit on the weekends, assuming you’re not too busy with your studies and new friends?”

“I didn’t tell you,” said Jack, shaking his head. “I can stay here. Opted out of living on campus. Columbia’s right in the city, so I’m fine to commute.”

Izzy just sighed harder, sinking lower in her chair.

“Oh that’s great.”  He said nodding.  “House is too damn big for one person.  If you weren’t staying here I was going to look at smaller places and do what Ori said… save the house for parties or something.”

“Yes!” shouted Izzy, banging her fist on the table as she popped back up. “Parties. We’ll have one soon. Jack, you can invite all your future lawyer buddies. I’ll bring a bunch of girls. Mal, you can… I dunno… rob everyone or something. It’ll be great!”

Malcolm arched an eyebrow, “You really are never going to call me Antony are you?”  He shook his head.  “And I’m not going to rob everyone… not every waking moment of my life is filled with crime.  Just… most of it.”

“I’ll call you Antony when other people are around,” said Izzy. “But you’ll always be Mal to me. It’s hard! What if I suddenly started going by Bella? You’d have a hard time just switching that immediately, wouldn’t you?”

He smirked, “I could do it, Bella, rest assured I could.”  He put a fork full of food into his mouth.

Izzy just laughed. “Well… I’m glad we’re all here together. This is going to be fun.”

“The last time you said that,” protested Jack. “I broke my arm falling out of that tree.”

“No the last time she said that you two slept for nearly ten hours and I got woke up two hours after falling asleep and had to run with Tara hung over.”

“Fun,” she repeated.

“So… you’re going to bring girls?  And Jack is going to bring booze, right?  That was what you said?” Mal smirked.

“I said lawyer friends, but that too, I suppose.” Izzy shrugged.

“I bet all those trustfund boys at Ivy League schools have enough cash to pay for our drinks without us having to shell out a penny for it.  We’re providing the location, right?” Malcolm chuckled. “That’s what I’ll provide… if the cops get called on us, my boss will make sure they stay away.”

“Sounds fine to me,” said Jack. “Just remember our deal- you keep any heat away from me. No one wants to hire a lawyer with a record.”

For a moment Malcolm’s face became a bit more serious, his eyes intense as he nodded and said, “I always have your back, Jack.  I won’t let anything bad happen to us. That’s the deal.”

*

Shadows.  Bright light.  Loud noise.  Soot.  Smoke.  It burned his eyes and throat.  First the violent shaking of whole body, then the rhythm beneath his feet constant and steady.  Terror filled every inch of his body, a sense of helplessness crippling him.  He could hear voices all muddled together.

“Stay on the train, your Uncle Billy will find you…”  Uncle Volkov promised and then disappeared into the crowd leaving him all alone.

“I’m sorry.  So, sorry Will.”  It wasn't clear if she had mistaken him for his father in the moment, or if Aunt Aurora really was talking to the ghost of her dead brother as he watched her leaving for the last time.

“Protect them.”  Billy's last words to him, instructions.  His desires or what he needed to say to make a young man tired of burying those he loved, run.

“RUN!”  Cerise screamed in his face, driving him off as she laid down cover fire and the world erupted into madness.

Guns.  Explosions.  Some things real.  Somethings not. But all mixed together and unstoppable no matter how hard he fought, no matter what he did… he could never stop any of it.  
 

Malcolm sat up in his bed, covered in sweat.  Outside the window, the wind was howling.  It wasn’t yet dawn.  He ran a hand through his hair, looking across the way at the mirror on his wall.  It wasn’t a person.  He pulled his other hand away from the gun under his pillow.  It was just nightmares.  He didn’t have them as often as he used to, but occasionally they still found their way into his mind.  

As a child they were vivid, now just as the memory of his parents faces and voices were fading, so too were the details of events which left what Tara so fondly liked to call scars on his life.  Her fixation with their grandparents was somewhat understandable because of Aunt Aurora, but Mal had never saw a reason to celebrate things which hurt you.  Even if you survived, it still hurt.  He’d much prefer not to be hurt to begin with.

A light tapping on his door.  He pulled his blanket up to his waist.  “Come in.”  He knew already that it was Izzy, even before her face peaked around the door.  

“I thought I heard something.  You okay?”  

She slept lighter than anyone he knew.  Again, perhaps that made sense considering their past, the losses.  Maybe it was how she was born but more likely she’d developed it the way he’d developed his own advantages.  Methods to increase chances of survival.

“Yeah, just… bad dream.  I’m good, Izzy.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you at dinner.  By the time we broke into the pie you were pretty quiet.”  She stepped inside the room shutting the door behind her, walking over to his bed.  “Wanna talk?”

Mal looked toward the window, “You don’t think it was a mistake coming back here, do you?”

“New York or the house?”  She asked sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Both.”  He said softly.  “It’s so near Philly still, and all that happened here.  I don’t know about you guys but sometimes, I feel like they’re just in the next room.”

Izzy smiled, “That’s why I like it.  I feel like they’re still here.  Mom, Dad, Indigo, Azure… Brigitte.”  She whispered the last name.  The wound was still more fresh than the others.

“I figured after everything that happened in Philly and then Ori and Tara… you might change your mind about coming with me.  I could still go out west.  I mean, I know I couldn’t keep you safe if we were that far apart but … maybe I wouldn’t bring trouble to your door either.”

“We’re Mastrosimones.”  Izzy shrugged.  “Trouble follows us.  Ask Ori and Tara how bored they are on that boat… I bet they aren’t.  I bet even hiding like they are, retired, they still get into trouble from time to time.  I might not be in the life, Mal, but I don’t think I have much of a choice when it comes to who I was born as.  I’d rather take my chances with you around than not.  Besides, I’ve gotten used to you.”  She patted his leg.  “And you’re used to us too.”

Mal nodded.  “I am.”  Of course, what he didn’t say was that was what worried him more than he could ever admit.

“You need something to drink?”

Mal shook his head.  “I’m fine, Izzy.  You should go back to bed.  Get some sleep.  I’ll be fine.”

Izzy stood up and gave her cousin a kiss on the cheek.  “Sweet dreams, Mal.”  With that she wandered out of his room and Malcolm lay back down and stared up at the ceiling until oblivion dragged him away once more.