“I don’t think he cares about—”
“Beeks said we should always tell him or Score about assholes,” Fish said, dropping forward to rest on his forearms, mimicking Score’s position. The young man idolized his boss, it was easy, and sort of sweet, to see. “Asshole wanted to search Shyla, you believe it? Thought she was stealing or some shit. You ever see a person look less like a thief than Shyla?”
“No, I haven’t,” Score muttered like he was considering something.
Grateful to have a task to concentrate on, Shyla ignored the words he aimed her way. Without daring to peek, somehow she was aware of Score’s every nuance. She wished she’d worn a thicker dress; her nipples were starting to peak and there wasn’t a draft to blame.
“My brother is in jail for burglary,” she said, compelled to fill the silence.
“You think stealing’s in your genes or something?” Fish asked and turned to address Score’s profile. “That the way it works, boss? Your whole family’s in it.”
Score hadn’t taken his attention from her. “No, that’s not how it works,” he said. “What kind of search?”
“Her bags and shit,” Fish said and snorted as he shrugged. “Though I’d bet if I hadn’t showed up when I did he’d have gone for the strip search too. He looked the type. You know the type, boss. We see ‘em all the time.”
“Yeah, we do,” Score said. “Were you gonna tell me, Shy?”
Shaking her head, she finished beating and put on her stove. “Fish was incredible, forceful but polite, Mick got the message.”
“Mick?”
“Stan’s son. He’ll inherit the house. He didn’t want me to take anything that wasn’t mine.”
“You lived there a long time.”
“Almost nine years,” she said. “But I don’t need things… The only thing I regret leaving is the clock in my bedroom. Stan gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday, so I guess he purchased it. That means it’s not mine, right?”
“A gift’s a gift. That’s yours, you should’ve brung it,” Fish said and grinned. “Oh, hey, you mean that cat one with the eyes and the tail. Yeah. Yeah. I saw that. That was cool… I’ve seen ‘em in movies.”
“Anyone puts pressure on you, the first thing you do is dial me,” Score said, diverting her interest from the exuberant Fish.
The minute her eyes met his, her lungs began to shrink. She’d have to learn how to avoid being ensnared by his intensity.
“Yeah, all our numbers are in that phone Beeks said he gave you,” Fish said. “You call anytime you need us. She’s one of us now, boss, right? Beeks says we gotta watch each other’s asses close.”
“She’s one of us,” Score said.
Shyla still couldn’t regulate her breathing. She had to open her mouth to get more air. “Thank you,” she murmured. “But I don’t get in a lot of trouble.”
Fish laughed. “That might change now you run with us, you know? You’re gonna have people want to talk to you about the boss. People want to know about the club. All sorts of folks in the city and all of ‘em want something.”
“I’m discreet,” she said, struck by a need to reassure Score.
“Can’t share what you don’t know, Lamb,” Score said, returning his focus to his phone.
“Lamb?” Fish asked. “Oh, hey, I get it. Bellamy, right? That’s cool.”
Fish thought a lot of things were cool. Although he talked a little funny sometimes, Shyla really liked him. But Score was the one she kept stealing glances at while she cooked. Declaring her as one of them meant more to Shyla than Score could know. They’d only known each other a few days. Beeks was still wary of her. In a way, she was grateful for that because it proved how much he cared about Score and Fish.
Living there was easy, Score made it easy. Shyla didn’t have a clue why he’d taken so many chances on her, but she was grateful he’d taken the risk, and wasn’t going to let him down.
Learning Score’s habits took up the majority of Shyla’s time over the next two weeks. Until beginning her new job, she hadn’t realized the value of routine. Knowing his schedule gave her the chance to set her own. Once she had that, the apartment began to feel like home.
Being around Score didn’t feel like home yet, it probably never would. Her senses just couldn’t process being in proximity to a man like him.
Concentrating on her work instead of her crazy attraction to her boss, Shyla mastered what was expected of her. So far it was guess work as to whether or not her work was adequate. No explicit praise had come her way, but no one had reprimanded her either. Though the latter was likely related to her sobriety. Since her screw up on the first day, she hadn’t dared go to a nightclub or touch alcohol. From that low, she supposed her employers estimations could only go up.
Score liked to sleep until around two in the afternoon. He’d get up, eat, drink coffee, and work on his computer or go out until around eight PM. The evening meal was required to be on the table by then. He’d eat, usually with Beeks and Fish, then the three men would go to Score’s club, which, funnily enough, was called ‘Score.’
His peculiar schedule made sense for someone who owned a nightclub. Most nights he’d be out until three or four AM. In case he wanted a snack, Shyla would make something and leave it in the fridge, though he only sometimes ate it.
Score didn’t expect her to be awake when he returned from the club. Sometimes she’d hear him moving around and got the impression
