Usually he’d listen to music while doing things with paper and the computer. Often it would be six or seven by the time he went to bed. She didn’t like to think that she was obsessed or nosy, but she could listen to him for hours. Just knowing they were alone in the apartment agitated her. On the nights that she did fall asleep, her senses would wake her of their own volition in time to hear him going to bed around five or six.
At eight, she got up to run her errands. To minimize the chance of bothering Score or interrupting his sleep, Shyla was as quiet as possible in the condo while he slept. Most days she stayed out until closer to his breakfast time. She never went far and kept her phone on loud, in case he woke and needed something.
Their building was great. Every day she would swim or use the gym. If she was done early, the pool lounge was a great place to work or chill while she gave Score privacy and peace to sleep.
That night, Shyla was on the terrace leafing through magazines. Even though the time approached midnight, she wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet. Looking at the glossy pictures, she assessed different hairstyles, trying to figure out if she might suit any of them.
A noise in the supposed-to-be-empty apartment made her turn. Score was over at the closet by the elevators. He hung up his jacket then crossed to drop onto the couch that backed onto the dining table.
Typical that he should come back early on the night she’d made a mess. Earlier, Shyla had spent time leafing through recipes she’d printed out. The papers were still spread out on the floor and on the glass table by the chess board.
Leaping up, she ran into the living room to begin tidying. They didn’t address each other, but that was normal. Score was a man of few words, so it was actually a positive not to hear his voice. Fish once told her that if someone forced Score to speak, he wouldn’t say anything they’d want to hear.
Living with her formidable boss was a life experience in itself. She’d never lived with a man like him, never before felt how she did when he was around. The way she became hyperaware of her femininity when he was in the room perplexed her. Shyla felt all kinds of new things around him, things she hadn’t felt in the past.
Score was conscious of what he did to her. Somehow, even without the words being said, Shyla knew it. He didn’t acknowledge it or humiliate her by putting her on the spot, but something had given her away. Trouble was, she couldn’t stop doing it because she didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way she often stuttered or forgot her words. Maybe it was the way she stole glances at him when she thought she could get away with it.
Energy buzzed between them and it was messing with her ability to function. It wasn’t going anywhere either, it only seemed to be getting stronger the longer they existed in the same life.
Sitting on the couch, with his arms stretched along the back, Score didn’t say a word. Shyla could feel him watching her as she gathered up the papers and piled them on the edge of the table with the magazines.
All that illuminated them was the yellow light from the lanterns outside mixed with the muted recessed lighting in the kitchen. It felt intimate… almost romantic. Just thinking the word made her self-conscious. She cursed herself for not putting on more lights when she’d come in from the terrace.
The room was suddenly hot… humid… her skin ticked and itched. It didn’t help that her heart was pumping faster than she could count the beats. In its haste to keep the blood flowing, the organ demanded too much space in her chest. Her lungs couldn’t expand enough to allow her a full breath. She couldn’t breathe this close to him, yet she’d never felt so alive.
His intensity had been one of the first things she noticed about him. Even when he wasn’t saying a word, he was aware of everything.
They were complete opposites. To her, he was a puzzle, one she wanted to solve. That could explain why he occupied so many of her thoughts. Figuring him out would take a lifetime; even then she wasn’t sure she’d succeed.
Nothing in their backgrounds matched. Shyla grew up with safety and security. She’d been sheltered and cared for. Her upbringing spared her hazards that would’ve been part of Score’s daily life. She wouldn’t deny being naïve, but never having to apologize for who she was gave her a strong sense of self.
In contrast, danger and darkness had been a part of Score’s life since birth. Beeks filled in some blanks for her, Fish too. Both cautioned her that Score wasn’t vocal about his history.
Being born into a family who thrived in the organized crime world, Score must have seen every depravity society had to offer. Drugs and prostitution would’ve been part of his day to day life. His babysitters were probably hookers and drug dealers.
For McDades, fighting was a hobby, bleeding was the norm. Deception and duplicity lurked around every corner. Score learned the hard way that even trusting his family was a mistake. He’d also learned to be quiet, to monitor, to watch and listen, and never offer any hint of weakness.
Shyla’s experience taught her not to hide her emotions or be afraid of her vulnerabilities. In Score’s world, emotions and vulnerabilities could get him killed.
“Do you need anything?” she asked, fearing if she didn’t break the oppressive silence that she might stop breathing altogether.
Through narrow
