A week later, A.J was still waiting for Casper to find her. Oh, he’d called a couple of times, each time almost blistering her eyes with his cussing. However, he still hadn’t shown up at her doorstep, which meant he didn’t know where she was. Frankly, it was disappointing. Her father was getting slow in his old age.
“I can’t believe you actually have your own shop,” Kelly Garner, A.J’s former cellmate, wandered around the store taking in the antique items displayed around the space. Though Kelly was as dark-skinned as A.J, she was a bit plumper and about a head shorter. Her eyebrows shot up when she picked up a terracotta sculpture of a naked woman and an elf kissing. “Well, this is racy.”
A.J, who was a few feet away, polishing a brass plate, laughed. “That’s by Nicola Sica. He was inspired by Clodion’s Nymph and Satyr Kissing.”
Kelly gave her a blank look. “Am I supposed to know who those people are?”
“Clodion’s pretty famous,” Tamsin ‘Sin’ Jacob, A.J’s other friend and also an ex-con, quipped. The pretty caramel-toned woman was seated behind the checkout counter, a hairpin in hand as she fiddled with the lock on one of the drawers. “Don’t you know him?”
“Get away from the counter, Sin.” A.J glared at her. “There’s no money there.”
“Do you even know who Clodion is?” Kelly eyed Sin with narrowed eyes.
“No.” Sin grinned even as she continued to fiddle with the lock. “But it felt good to act like I was smarter than you for once.”
All three women laughed.
A.J hadn’t planned to make friends while in prison. She was a lone wolf by nature. But these two had attached themselves to her and before she knew it she was part of a clique. A clique. The thought alone was enough to make her shudder. But these two were good eggs… if she had to have friends, then Kelly and Sin weren’t the worst choice.
“Where did you even get the money to open this place?” Kelly asked,
“I had a little saved up.” A.J shrugged. “And I bought it before I went in.”
The plan had always been to retire from the thief game while she was still young. Three years ago, it had seemed like the perfect time. Other thieves wanted to retire with private planes, fast cars, mansions and their personal harems. A.J just wanted a little antique store of her own and to never have to worry about money.
Once she’d decided to retire, she’d bought this one-story building and the antique shop below it from the elderly woman who owned it. She’d even gathered a collection of valuable but legal antiques of her own. If she hadn’t fallen for Casper’s ‘last score’ bullshit, she would’ve been living her dream before now.
Thankfully, her dream was still intact when she’d walked out of prison three weeks ago. June, the previous owner of this building, had died a year ago. However, she’d left explicit instructions in her will that the building and everything in it belonged to A.J. June’s relatives were as decent as she was. As soon as A.J turned up, they handed over the building without a fuss.
If A.J had to describe Warehouse 17, she’d say that it was a high-end antique shop. Everything in here was more than a hundred years old yet still looked new and valuable. The store itself was large enough that she’d sectioned off different parts of the room so she could display similar items together.
“Should I move?” Sin asked when A.J kicked her away from the checkout counter.
“Move where?” A.J asked.
“Here.” She pointed upwards, to A.J’s apartment.
A.J reared backwards as an instinctive ‘No’ rose to her lips. But Kelly beat her to it.
“Why would you do that?” Kelly, who’d recently moved in with her fiancée, Spencer, stared at Sin like she’d lost her mind.“You have my whole apartment to yourself.”
“Yeah!” Sin shrugged. “But this one’s bigger and I like sharing with someone.”
“No,” A.J said. “You’re not moving in with me.”
“Why?” Sin whined.
“Just no.” A.J had spent three years sharing her space with different women, some messier and louder than others. She wasn’t doing it again unless she had to. And in this case she didn’t have to. Besides that, she and Sin were very, very different people. She loved her friend, but the woman wouldn’t know a vacuum cleaner if it bit her in the ass and announced itself. Plus, she was too happy. Consequently, people were to drawn to her, like bees to honey. If Sin moved in, A.J’s apartment would turn into a cheerful, crowded sorority house.
The horror! Ugh!
A.J shook her head more vehemently. “Hell no!”
“You don’t have to say it like that.” Sin pouted.
“Sorry,” A.J said. In case her friend still hadn’t gotten the message, she repeated, “No.”
“We got it, A.J.” Kelly laughed. “You want to live alone.”
Sin glared at her sulkily. “I hope you get robbed.”
“Imagine that!” A.J chuckled. “A thief getting robbed.”
Her friends’ answering laughter rang in the store. About an hour later, Kelly and Sin left. Kelly was off to meet Spencer while Sin was headed to her part-time job – something about playing a fake-girlfriend to a nerd who was on his way to his high-school reunion. A.J stayed behind to man the store.
The pieces she stocked were interesting enough that several curious people walked in just on the strength of her display window. She even sold a few things.
This was a good investment. She smiled as she handed a client her receipt.
At around two p.m., her part-time store-clerk, Pete walked in for his shift. The short, chubby, pale-faced, bespectacled, young man was June’s grandson and had managed the shop before and after June’s death. He was the logical choice of employee. She still planned to hire one more assistant, but for now he would do.
“Pete, I’m heading out for a bit.” A.J grabbed her jacket. “Are you okay alone?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pete reassured her. “I’m good.”
“Mrs. Wood said she was coming back for her bust today.” A.J put on her jacket and zipped it up over her white top. “Don’t forget to pack it up for her.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded. “Are you staying out for long?”
“Not too long,” she said. “I should be back by-”
The sound of wind-chimes ringing and the door opening cut into her words. A moment later, a somewhat pudgy, white man who was one or two inches shorter than her walked into the store. Judging by the wrinkles that lined his face and the gray streaks in his black hair and goatee, most people would’ve estimated that he was in his early sixties. And they would be right. He was sixty-three.
How did A.J know his exact age? Because she knew him.
Mason Marwick. His presence here sent immediate shock ricocheting through her. What was he doing here? In this neighborhood. In her store. He was supposed to be in Arlington.
“Hi, Mr. M,” Pete greeted him.
“Hello, Pete,” the older man greeted before turning to A.J with a toothy grin. “Well, hello there.”
“Hello.” Knowing that he didn’t even know who she was, A.J forced a smile. “Welcome to Warehouse Seventeen.”
“Warehouse Seventeen, huh?” Mason chuckled as he strolled towards her. “Great name.”
“We tried.” A.J was trying so hard to keep her smile intact that it felt like her face was about to break. “What can we help you with today?”
“Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Once he was close to her, Mason held out his hand. “I’m Mason Marwick. I own the shop right across from you.”
“Ah! The furniture store?” A.J asked even as tension tightened her stomach muscles.
With a grin, Mason nodded.
A.J’s tension increased. If Mason owned a place in this neighborhood, did that mean that Lee was around here somewhere? If he was, was she supposed to be happy or nervous? Both?
Her smile was even more forced as she accepted Mason’s vigorous handshake. “I’m A.J. It’s great to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Mason’s gaze swept around the store. “This place is so different from when June ran it.”
“Different in a good way?” A.J asked.
“Different in a good way.” Mason nodded. “You have some amazing stuff in h-”
He suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes widened as they zeroed in on a romantic landscape painting that was displayed prominently above the checkout counter. “Is that a Samuel Hurst?”
“It is.” A.J wasn’t sure what was more surprising; that Mason was in her store or that he knew about one of the forgotten black painters of the nineteenth century. “You know Samuel Hurst?”
“Of course I know Samuel Hurst.” Mason edged closer to the painting to examine it. His eyes still wide with awe, he asked, “How much for it?”
A.J winced. “I’m sorry, that’s not for sale.”
“It’s not.” Disappointment flashed in his expression.
“No.” A.J rushed to add. “But I’ve got other paintings that are just as good and might interest you.”
A few people walked into the shop while she showed Mason around, but fortunately, she had Pete. A.J wanted to ask Mason so many questions as they walked around her store, but she knew she couldn’t without revealing her identity. Mason, on the other hand, had no problems asking questions. Fortunately, all his questions were about her antiques.
When he wasn’t examining the pieces she showed him, he was giving her advice about how to run a business in their neighborhood. He threw in some marketing advice and gave her the down-low about their neighbors.
He said, “You need to be careful with Susan, the lady who owns the bakery next-door.”
“Oh?” A.J arched her eyebrows.
“She’ll act all sweet and nice when she comes in here then grill you about your personal life. But once she’s out of here, all your personal business will be out there too.”
A.J winced. “That bad?”
“That bad.” Mason nodded. “Don’t tell her anything you don’t want people knowing.”
“Noted and appreciated.” A.J smiled. It was good to know that time hadn’t changed Mason. He was still a good guy, looking out for everyone around him.
When Mason stopped in front of a toddler-height, marble sculpture of several children rolled up in a ball, she explained, “This was done by a Romanian sculptor called Ion Popp in 1908. I got it from his great-granddaughter.”
“I haven’t heard of him.” Mason examined the sculpture. “But this is… thought provoking.”
He was so into the sculpture that he eventually bought it despite its eyebrow raising price. “I can’t take it with me right now, but I’ll drop by for it in the morning.”
A.J smiled. “That works for us too, since we have to buff it up a little then pack it.”
“Great.” Mason grinned. “And don’t be shy about crossing the street to my store. My furniture is probably a little too ‘new’ for you, but it’s not so bad.”
“I don’t mind new stuff.” A.J laughed. “I’m actually redecorating my apartment so you might find me haunting your store sooner rather than later.”
“Can’t wait.” Mason beamed. “The best part is if you want to make it yourself or restore some of your stuff, I’ve got a pretty big workshop you can use. Plus, I offer DIY Woodwork workshops every Tuesday and Thursday for anyone who wants to learn wood-stuff.”
“Don’t think I won’t take you on that offer,” A.J joked, earning a booming laugh from Mason.
Once Mason left the store, A.J set off for her errands. First, she stopped by her bank to withdraw five thousand dollars. The money stuffed in her purse, she took the subway to the Bronx. Her destination wasn’t too far from the station so she chose to walk. Thirty minutes later, she stood in front of a rundown, four-story building.
Though the neighborhood around A.J was as rundown as most of the buildings that flanked its streets, it pulsed with life and excitement. A group of children were dancing and singing along to the Reggaeton music blasting from a pimped-out car, while a group of men, most in wife-beaters, jeans and timbs, watched them with amused expressions. A couple of scantily clad, young women were preening around on the other side of the street as if waiting for the men to notice them.
A homeless woman pushing a supermarket cart smiled at A.J as she passed by. A.J smiled back before making her way into the rundown building. More loud music met her entrance.
“What’s up, Mama.” The teenage boy seated on the bottom stair smirked and winked at her. “You fine as-”
The wintery look A.J shot him was enough to shut him up. Without a word, he scooted to the side to let her up the stairs. Peeling paint and the faint smell of urine met her as she went up. It was only when she got to the third floor that she hesitated for a brief moment. She made sure that the hallway was empty before emerging. Her steps deliberately silent, she crept to apartment 312.
She slipped the envelope of money under the door then knocked twice before swiftly making her escape. Fortunately, she ducked behind a wall seconds before the door to the apartment opened.
The woman who emerged from the apartment looked beaten down. She was all bones, stringy hair and shadowed eyes. The dress she was wearing was too big and too worn out.
“Mama, who is it?” a girl shrieked from inside the apartment.
“There’s nobody here.” The woman said. She started to close the door but stopped when she noticed the envelope on the floor. Frowning, she picked it up. When she saw the contents of the envelope, the frown turned into shock.
“Dios mío!” Her gasp echoed in the hallways. Her wide-eyed gaze swept left and right, but A.J’s position was too hidden for the woman to see her.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” A teenage girl emerged in the doorway next to the woman.
“Someone left this under our door.” Her shocked mother showed her the contents of the envelope.
“All this?” The girl’s gasp was even louder than her mother’s.
Satisfied that her gift had reached its intended recipient, A.J slipped away from the wall and down the stairs. As she took the subway back home, A.J couldn’t help the sadness that overwhelmed her.
That woman, Rita Nolasco, and her daughter, Denise, were living like this because of her and her greed. If A.J and her crew hadn’t killed Rita’s husband, Juano Nolasco, the family’s breadwinner, Rita and her daughter would likely be living a different life.