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Greystone (word count 4616)

copyright 2018 comidacomida

Megan's life had not been an easy one; being a single teenage mother had a unique set of

challenges but, just as she was finding stability in her life the entire situation became even

more complicated: her son, Cody was diagnosed with a rare form of pediatric cancer. Although

she had no choice but to move closer to one of the most prominent childhood cancer treatment

hospitals in the nation the only place she could afford the rent was in a quirky suburban

subdivision named after the pale rock wall encircling it: Greystone.

The entire development had an almost otherworldly feel to it; despite the extremely low property

costs the neighborhood didn't attract the 'usual' sort of a slum-style inner-city neighborhood.

Yes, the people had been aloof from the start and everyone seemingly kept themselves, but every

single house was kept in immaculate condition, everything liked as though it was professionally

landscaped, and crime seemed non-existent-- except when Megan got her purse snatched the second

week she was there.

It was early afternoon and she was on her way to the only food store within walking distance

and, since she had to sell her car to help cover moving expenses, Megan needed something close

to home. In truth, she'd only had about eight dollars in her wallet; she was more upset that

she'd need to pay for a new ID, get all of her cards canceled then reissued and, most of all,

that she didn't feel quite as safe. Of course, still in shock from the ordeal she hadn't even

realized that she'd continued walking to the corner store and she didn't have any money with

which to pay. Megan was in the aisles of the quick mart before the reality of the situation had

sunk in and at that point she cried. Hard.

In Megan's scant two weeks in Greystone she'd seen a wide variety of residents; there wasn't any

specific ethnic majority and folks of all social classes seemed to call the neighborhood home so

she didn't quite realize why she was surprised when a calm, mellow voice called out to her with

a very strong Italian accent. "Are you in distress, Signora?"

She looked up, blinking away the tears as she tried address the dark blob in front of her. It

came into focus slowly as a well-dressed man who she assumed to be in his late 40s or early 50s.

He was immaculately groomed; his slightly-wavy hair was black and gray with more gray on the

sides while the top was very nearly onyx in color. Although Megan had never been one to talk

openly with complete strangers his sky-blue eyes held a strange compassion that seemed so

surreal as to be almost impossible to believe. At length she managed to explain her breakdown.

"I was... mugged."

The man straightened up in surprise, eyes widening in alarm. "Truly? That is not a common event

in this neighborhood. Are you hurt?"

He held out a gloved hand to her, which she tentatively accepted and he helped her to her feet.

She stared at the hand holding hers; the man's black leather gloves matched his professional-

looking tailored suit. Despite the wide range of financial backgrounds in Greystone Megan found

it difficult to think that he actually lived anywhere nearby. Only when she saw that he was

watching her expectantly did she realize that she'd failed to answer his question. "No... I'm

not hurt. Just... shaken."

He offered a smile; strangers had no right to offer such a genuine expression and yet the well-

dressed man looked genuinely relieved. "Well then, Signora, I am pleased to hear that you are

unharmed. Il Signore will be pleased as well, I am sure."

She was confused by the Italian word the man made sound like a name, or perhaps a title. "Il

Signore?"

The well-dressed man raised an eyebrow at her inquiry but, rather than address her confusion he

had a question of his own. "Why have you come to the marketplace, Signora?"

Megan looked around as she checked her pockets "I was getting some things for my son, and--"

she paused when the realization hit her. "--and I lost my purse."

Her companion smiled warmly in that oddly genuine nature of his and motioned to the aisles.

"Then, please... get whatever it is you need. You may consider your bill covered."

She stood still for several seconds before the man nodded and motioned again. Megan moved

hesitantly at first but, after grabbing the first item the rest came easier. In the end she

had an armful of goods consisting of everything on her list. The stranger helped her to the

register by taking several of the items himself. The attendant behind the counter looked

between Megan and the well-dressed man, and addressed him instead of her. "Can I get you

anything else, Marcus?"

Marcus nodded. "Yes, Jon. This young lady had her purse stolen by a man on her way here. Four

twenty dollar bills and two ten dollar bills, if you please."

The clerk nodded, handing a receipt to Marcus and the six bills to Megan. She was so stunned

that he had to put the money on the counter in front of her. "Here you go, miss. Thanks for

coming in."

Her well-dressed companion picked the money up from the counter and put it into her hand even as

he addressed the attendant. "Thank you, Jon."

Jon nodded vigorously. "Happy to help!"

Megan was still in a haze even as Marcus led her outside by the shoulder. Once they had stepped

out of the corner market he turned her to face him before removing his hand from her shoulder.

"I am Marcus, but I do not believe I received your name, Signora."

Reflexively, Megan held our her hand. "Megan. Hollens."

His smile reappeared and he gave her hand a firm shake. "Well then, Megan Hollens, I am pleased

that I was able to be of assistance, and I apologize for the difficulty you faced this

afternoon. Il Signore does not condone crime and does not sit idly by and permit Greystone's

residents to become victims."

She had no idea how she could respond to such a statement. "...okay."

Rather than let go of her hand, Marcus brought it up to his lips and kissed the back. "Go home

to your son and do not weigh your heart down with what has happened. Perhaps, if the fates

allow, we may see one another again soon."

The fates, apparently, did.

* * * * *

Two days later, just after 9am Megan responded to a knock at her door; opening it, she saw

Marcus on her porch. He was dressed just as impeccably as he had been at the corner store and,

to her surprise, he held out her lost purse, announcing formally. "Il Signore sends his regards,

Ms. Hollens."

Glancing back inside to where Cody was sitting on the sofa watching cartoons, Megan stepped

outside and closed the door behind her. "I... don't know what to say."

Rather than address her confusion at the events, Marcus instead took the conversation a

completely different direction. "Your son... he is... unwell?"

Megan had gone to great lengths to protect her son from the outside world's judgment and the

coldness with which people treated cancer patients; Marcus, however, was too astute for her and

she realized she hadn't been successful at hiding Cody. She stepped fully in front of the door,

crossing her arms as she challenged her unexpected guest. "Cancer. He's receiving treatments

for it."

She had heard all kinds of responses to the statement; usually someone gave a precursory apology

or their condolences and then immediately sought an escape. Marcus, did not do the expected.

"Ah... then you have my admiration, Ms. Hollens."

Once again off-balance, Megan didn't really know how to respond. "Your what? Why?"

The genuine smile of his was frustratingly good at disarming her and she hated it, but she was

thankful for it at the same time. "It takes a strong child to make it through such a challenging

time, and a stronger mother to help him. You have my admiration for raising such a son as well

as for being strong yourself."

It was the first and only time someone had ever approached the situation from that angle and all

of Megan's social responses failed to capture what she was thinking. In the end, the best she

could manage was a helpless "Thank you?"

Marcus reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Believe me when I say that Il Signore

wishes the best for you and your son. I am confident that you will not need to be concerned for

your safety on the street again."

Clutching her purse even closer to herself at the reminder of why he was visiting, Megan felt at

a loss yet again. "The... um... Il Signore... is-- I mean... does he... live near Greystone? Is

he... on the city council or something?"

The well-dressed man smiled, drawing away from her as he adjusted his tie. "He lives in

Greystone, Ms. Hollens."

Marcus pointed over the rooftop of the house across from them on the street. Several blocks

down on a slightly raised hill was a large town home. Although it had roughly the same style as

the rest of the houses in Greystone it also had a distinct flavor all its own; Megan had noticed

it many times but, until Marcus' finger was pointing at it she'd never given it a second

thought. Her response was to-the-point. "Oh."

Her visitor nodded. "Indeed. On that note, however, I must bid you a fine day. Before I

leave, is there anything else with which I might assist?"

Megan surprised herself and, whether it was to break the ice or (despite not really being into

older men) to playfully flirt she wasn't sure. Jokingly, she offered "Well... Cody's next

treatment is coming up... ten thousand dollars would certainly help."

Marcus' smile returned-- not one that identified the joke as humorous; it was the easy-going,

empathic one that suggested he understood everything. "I will speak with Il Signore and see

what he can do to help."

Part of her wanted to call out to him as he about-faced and tell him she was kidding; another

part of her argued that he was just responding to her dry humor with some of his own; there was

another, smaller part that dared to hope that Marcus was serious. Three days later at the

hospital, Megan had taken out her credit card to cover her bill but the receptionist only held

up a hand to decline the transaction. "Your account is paid through the end of the year, Ms.

Hollens, compliments of Il Signore."

* * * * * *

The enigmatic figure continued to occupy Megan's mind through the course of the week. She

focused on her son; Cody was going to turn nine in less than a month but her thoughts were split

between taking care of her sick son and figuring out what to do to celebrate his birthday. Cody

loved birthdays and celebrations always seemed to lift his spirits. Considering everything he'd

gone through she was determined to give him every opportunity to be happy.

His treatments were rough, but Cody started feeling better Friday morning and, for the first

time that week he managed to hold down his breakfast: a piece of toast with a fried egg on it.

As the day wore on she could tell that his energy was returning; for lunch he actually managed a

full sandwich with a half-glass of nutrition shake. They spent the rest of the day alternating

between watching TV and playing with his legos. Her time was his until the knock at the front

door; although she'd only heard the particular rhythm once she knew immediately who it was.

Answering, Megan was not surprised to see Marcus on her porch. He bowed his head in greeting.

"Please apologize if I am intruding."

Once again she stepped out to join him, closing the door behind herself. Although she'd heard

the adage never to look a gift horse in the mouth, she'd spent most of the week worrying about

just what all of the support was costing her. "You're Italian... and I assume Il Signore is

too?"

Marcus didn't smile; he simply nodded. "In a way, yes."

She didn't read too far into his statement, instead, preferring to address her concerns

directly, but she lowered her voice as she asked "Are you with the... mob?"

He didn't answer her question, instead, Marcus simply held out a small folded card. "Il Signore

requests your presence for dinner tomorrow night. He would like very much to meet you face to

face."

The constant statements from Marcus always left her off-balance and that usually resulted in her

feeling confused; it had happened far too often however and that time she was angry. She didn't

ask, rather, she demanded "Are you with the mob, Marcus? The Mafia-- yes, or no?"

His smile returned full force and he placed his hand to his chest. "You have my word, Megan

Hollens; neither Il Signore nor I are affiliated even peripherally with Mafia."

It helped, but only a little. "Then... who are you?"

His smile faltered marginally. "If I were to tell you that all shall be revealed tomorrow night

would you be more inclined to attend?"

She was honest in her answer. "I don't know."

Marcus' smile disappeared altogether and he stated in what felt like an iron-clad bargaining

tone. "Il Signore would like to propose a treatment for your son's condition, and wishes to do

so face-to-face."

Megan took a step back toward her door. "Cody is already being treated."

The well-dressed visitor nodded, reaching up to adjust his tie. "Il Signore can do more. He has

the resources to cure him."

Yet again, Marcus managed to put her off balance with a statement. Was he playing with her

emotions? Was it some kind of a trick? "I don't believe you."

Nodding, he lowered his eyes. "I had advised against such an offer, but Il Signore truly does

wish only to help."

Lingering at the door, Megan wanted to leave the discussion but, after everything she had

experienced with regard to Marcus and his employer she very nearly believed that what he was

proposing could have been possible. Was it all a pipe dream? Was she being played? Why

couldn't she stop thinking about it. "What does he want in return? What is this going to cost

me?"

As if deciding he had passed some kind of barrier, Marcus' smile returned; Megan hated how much

that pleased her. He took a step back before reaching into his coat and pulled out a single

white rose. "Three, or perhaps four hours of your time. Arrive at six, and you may leave at

ten."

She accepted the flower then looked down at the invitation in her hand. "So... it's.. a dinner

party?"

He nodded, his smile still in place. "Yes, Ms. Hollens... something like that."

Megan looked between Marcus and the invitation. "And... I'm not saying I WILL come, but, if I

do, what should I wear, exactly?"

The man smiled; it was entirely different from his prior expression yet still held that warmth

and openness... and something else. "You will receive your attire tomorrow afternoon. Think of

it as... as a costume party."

She hesitated. "Will I... have a mask or something?"

Marcus' smile faded, and he about-faced, heading off down the steps of her porch. "No masks,

Ms. Hollens. No masks."

* * * * *

As promised, a parcel arrived for Megan on Friday evening; the tag on it included only her name.

Although she honestly still wasn't sure whether she would go or not, Megan brought the package

inside and to her room. She opened it carefully, revealing what appeared to be a fine purple

linen gown of sorts. Pulling it out of its container, Megan was surprised to find that it was,

in actuality, more of a long swath of cloth with gold embroidery on it. Under the linen was a

card, written in the same crisp, clean handwriting as all of the other cards she'd received from

Il Signore. It was a list of directions for how to wrap herself in a toga. She sighed. "A toga

party? Really?"

Even as her reasons not to go continued to build up, she still had trouble convincing herself to

stay home. Whether it was out of curiosity or a sense of implied obligation, Megan even tried

on the toga, making good use of the card; she succeeded with only some minor missteps. Looking

at herself in the mirror she had to admit that the ancient clothing had a strange appeal to it;

she didn't know if she looked 'regal' per se, but, despite being so basic it definitely

portrayed a unique sense of refinement.

It was not long until evening and, even as she moved about the house, getting a feel for the odd

garments Megan came to a singular conclusion: she couldn't leave her son alone so she wouldn't

be able to attend. A knock at the door complicated matters as, when Megan opened it she saw the

neighbor's high-school daughter, Mackenzie. The explanation, as with any of them involving

Marcus, was simple and to the point: she'd been recruited to watch Cody while Megan went to

dinner.

Megan had been Cody's sole care provider ever since he took ill; she hadn't been out even once

and the thought of leaving him alone, even for a handful of hours made her heart pound. Still,

she was leaving for an important reason Still not entirely sure about what she was doing, Megan

nodded, slowly closing the door to separate herself from the obviously obsessed teen. "Okay...

um... I'll be back around ten... I guess."

Letting out a deep breath, Megan stood on her porch facing the door for several seconds figuring

out the best way to walk to the large townhouse half-way across Greystone. As she turned around

to face the street the answer presented itself: Marcus stood at the back of a black town car,

door open for her. He smiled as she approached. "I am overjoyed that you have taken Il Signore

up on his offer."

She didn't respond to his statement, waiting instead for him to close the door and get into the

driver's seat. Only then did she ask her question. "What does Il Signore do?"

He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, his light blue eyes glimmering as he pulled away from

the curb, the late afternoon sun hitting them right before he pulled down the visor to shield

his vision. "Your pardon, Ms Hollens... I do not understand the question."

Megan realized just how rude she was for pushing the issue, but she'd blundered her way

awkwardly through a lack of understanding for long enough that she needed her answers. "You

said that he isn't part of the mob--"

Marcus' eyes went to the road again but he continued to speak with her. "Correct. Il Signore's

holdings are unaffiliated with any crime family or any form of illegal activity."

Although she continued to pursue the matter she really was bothered by her own lack of manners.

Regardless, she foraged on ahead. "What does he do then?"

Her driver responded first in Italian, and then in English. "Un filantropo... as you would say

in English, a... philanthropist, I believe."

She corrected him by rote, then proceeded with her question. "Philanthropist-- so what does he

do for a living? If he does so much good for Greystone, and it's not because of crime, where

does all of his money come from?"

Marcus slowed the car down and turned into a cobblestone drive way; Megan had a clear view of

the townhouse as they pulled up toward its ample garage. Although his voice was neutral, she

saw a faint twitch of displeasure on his lips. "Is it normal discussion to question the income

of a man who wishes to do good for his community?"

The car came to rest in the garage, which already held three other vehicles and, as she looked

around, Megan answered with casual humor. "Well, if it was, maybe we'd have better elected

officials."

The edge of Marcus' lips pulled up in the hint of a smile as he got out of the front seat. He

walked around to open the door for her, responding "Il Signore gives back to the community

because he wishes to do good by his neighbors. He is the beneficiary of old money-- generations

of well-invested funds which provide him more than he requires."

Megan accepted his gloved hand and he assisted her out of the car. She glanced around the

garage until Marcus indicated a door and led her to it. She had heard of trust fund babies and,

although she wasn't in the habit of lumping people into any one group, her limited understanding

of the type suggested that few were worried about lives outside their own. "So... he moved to

Greystone because he wanted to make it a better place?"

Marcus' lack of an answer went unnoticed as he led her into the house. They emerged from the

garage into some kind of side-passage entryway; the floor was tiled in marble and, aside from

the fact that there were two industrial washers and dryers, it looked as if the room could have

been a rich foyer. When her guide did speak, it was about the house. "My apologies for bringing

you in through the garage, Miss Hollens; the front door is in some disrepair and this is a far

easier route to the dining hall."

She thought nothing of it, but mentioning of the dining hall did make her think. "Just how many

people are attending the dinner?"

Marcus came to a complete stop, turning back to look at her in confusion. "How many? Just you,

Miss Hollens."

Megan stopped as well. "But... I thought Il Signore was hosting a dinner party tonight?"

Her guide completely about faced so he could look at her directly. "Il Signore never has

guests, Miss Hollens. He has invited you here-- and you alone because of my opinion of you and

your character."

She tried very hard not to take affront to the flattery, but she was already off-guard enough

that she grew defensive. "I'm sorry, Marcus, but you barely even know me or 'my character'...

how could--?"

He cut her off by raising a gloved hand. "Miss Hollens, it takes a special kind of woman to

weather the trials and tribulations of being a single mother, but the mental fortitude and force

of will to also care for a child who is going through hardships such as yours-- that speaks

volumes of your character, and it is something I admire very much. Il Signore has echoed this

admiration, which is the reason you have been invited to dine with him this night."

* * * * *

While it was a touching sentiment, nothing about what she'd been through in her life felt

particularly worth of admiration, but she said nothing, choosing instead to follow Marcus

wordlessly. As it turned out, the 'dining hall' was nowhere near as grandiose as what she'd

imagined; it was really more of a large dining room. There was a large, feast-style table that

looked like it could have seated a dozen people or more but it had been moved to the side

against the wall; a small, intimate round table with two place settings had taken its place

beneath a large, lit chandelier.

Marcus pulled a seat out for Megan and then went to a set of heavy cloth curtains, pulling them

open to reveal a large window with a view of the house's enormous backyard. Megan glanced out

into the greenery, which lay sprawling before her, highlighted with the golden rays of the

setting sun. Once everything was 'just-so', Marcus turned back to her and offered a courteous

bow. "I will step out now; Il Signore will be along shortly."

Despite how little she knew about Marcus aside from the short amount of time she'd spent with

him periodically throughout the week, he was much less of a stranger than the enigmatic Il

Signore and she surprised herself by how much the idea of being without him bothered her. "You

aren't going to join us?"

He offered his kind, calming smile to her in response. "I will be close by, Signora."

She turned to watch him head back the way they had come; Marcus kept his attention to the door

as he walked out, fingers deftly undoing his tie as he left. Letting out a breath, she looked

down at the place setting in front of her; she was no judge of fine cutlery or china but she was

left with the impression that the plates, forks, and knives probably cost more than she had in

the bank. If she hadn't realized how well-to-do Il Signoire was before then she had absolutely

no doubt that she was seeing it firsthand.

Her meandering thoughts were stalled by the sound of a loud bang, followed by the clattering

metallic sound of what sounded like a pot or pan being dropped. Her first inclination was to

call out but, unsure whether or not that would be rude, she chose instead to keep her mouth

shut. Looking over her shoulder, Megan watched the door, wondering if a half dozen servants

were going to bring in some huge feast of some kind. She continued watching it for nearly two

minutes before it opened and, when it did, what passed through the threshold was no servant...

it wasn't even human.

Megan gasped, suddenly finding herself staring at an enormous black wolf. It wasn't a normal

wolf though, not by a long shot; the creature strode into the room on two legs, walking more

like a man than a beast. Rather than being covered only in fur, it wore a toga, much like her

own, though it was a deep wine red rather than purple. More than anything, however, what really

stood out were the pale blue eyes gazing out at her from the dark blackness of its furry face;

it was looking right at her, as if it had come just for her. When its muzzle opened she saw

long white teeth and a broad, lupine tongue which rolled around in its mouth before clearly

articulating in a deep baritone "Buonasera, signorina."

Frozen in place, continuing to stare at the monster, Megan's brain failed to comprehend that

it-- that he was speaking to her until the wolf man took a seat opposite her at the table. She

was so stunned that the most she could manage in response was "I-- I don't speak... Italian."

The creature's muzzle was surprisingly expressive and he smiled, warmly, in a way that almost

made her feel at ease. There was emotion in his features, and a surprising amount of empathy

for a monster. Her brain fell out of gear again once she studied the light streaks of gray the

luxurious mane that looked to double as hair for the wolf man, but it was push-started again the

moment he let out a barking growl which she realized was a laugh. "Ah... but of course. I

apologize... it is the tongue I have used for many years. English is better for you though, yes?"