“Hey, Score, can I have Friday night off? Beeks says I’ve got to ask you.”
“No,” Score muttered.
“Oh, man,” Fish whined. “I met this babe who wants to climb up on me, man… I figure since it’s almost a whole week away…”
Given that it was Tuesday, she’d forgive him for saying a whole business week, but it wasn’t a full week.
“Where did you meet her?” Shyla asked, working on the pancake batter while the bacon was sizzling.
“At Score’s,” Fish said, proud of himself.
“You can’t date the dancers,” Score murmured.
“She’s not a dancer,” Fish said. “She’s a dancer’s mom.” Shyla stopped stirring at the same time both Score and Beeks looked at him. “What? She had Chardonnay when she was like fifteen. She’s only the boss’ age.”
Shyla glanced between Fish and Score, who was reading his phone again. “I… I don’t know how old the boss is.”
“Thirty-five,” Score responded, propping his chin onto the heel of his hand.
Her smile spread. “That’s twelve years, Fish… You like older women?”
“She’s not that much older,” Fish grumbled, flicking at the edge of the glass.
Beeks laughed. “Ah, you’re looking to bag yourself a momma!”
“Oh, don’t tease him,” Shyla said, pouring the pancake batter into a pan and flipping the bacon. “I think it’s cute.”
“Can’t be that much difference between you and me, Shyla,” Fish said and she thought she saw Score’s jaw twitch. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“You want to go out with me?” Fish asked.
Shyla deliberately ignored the shift of Score’s jaw. “No, thank you, honey,” she said, turning around to retrieve plates. “Drink your juice.”
Beeks laughed again. “Shot down, boy… Shyla is your momma. She feeds you and washes your clothes. You’d be lost without her.”
She flipped the pancake. “I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Fish twisted in his stool to look to Beeks. Shyla glanced at Score and was surprised to find him looking at her. So, another man showing interest made him notice her? If that was what he needed to keep him interested, their relationship was going to be short-lived.
As soon as he saw her eyes, he flicked his back to his phone.
“You think it’s ‘cause I’m a con?” Fish asked, hooking his elbows on the island to better see Beeks.
“I think Shyla needs a man who can look after her,” Beeks said, distracted by his work. “She doesn’t want a boy who can’t look after himself.”
“I can too look after myself,” Fish said. “Can so. I’ve been out on my own since I was twelve.” That truth broke her heart so much that she paused while slipping the pancake from the pan. “Only had foster homes before that.”
Pouring more of the batter into the pan, Shyla couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be on her own. Except Stan’s death brought her to that point. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d thrown herself into looking after Bernard and Stan. They were all she had, and their time together was finite. Even after her grandfather was gone, she didn’t let herself think about how she’d lost the last of her blood family.
“Going from prison to prison doesn’t count as looking after yourself,” Beeks said. “What would Shyla do if you went back inside?”
“You’d look after her,” Fish said.
Though this was an intellectual discussion more than an actual possibility, she couldn’t help but draw comparisons with Score. What would she do if he went back to prison? Although he hadn’t committed the crime he’d been convicted of, she would assume—given his upbringing—he’d probably been involved in other crimes.
“Great, thanks,” Beeks said. “So I get your girlfriend and none of the sex… what’s in it for me?” Leaning forward, Beeks looked between the two men at the island. “I’m making a point here, Shyla, honey. You know I’d see you right.”
Pleased to hear that Beeks wasn’t ready to abandon her, she smiled, until she noted Score’s complete lack of interest in the conversation. What if they got together and broke up? What would she be left with then? Beeks would look out for her because, as Fish had put it, she ran with them. But if she and Score broke up, he wouldn’t want her working for him anymore. Shyla wouldn’t want to work for him, what if he brought home other women and she had to hear him…
Fish and Beeks continued with their hypothetical discussion about Beeks caring for Fish’s prospective girlfriend if he went to prison again. Shyla focused on her cooking, making enough for all three men.
“Okay,” Fish said and thrust an arm to the side. “What about Score? What if he had a girl and went back to prison?”
“What’s he going to prison for?” Beeks asked. “Man’s never committed a crime in his life.”
Fish lost his bluster, Beeks relaxed, and they both began to laugh at the same time.
Guessing that answered her speculation, Shyla left the last pancake to cook while she delivered Score’s food to him and went to retrieve flatware.
She was serving the last of the food to Fish and Beeks when Fish spoke again. “What about Shyla’s man?” he asked, his mouth full.
“Who?” Beeks asked, probably not understanding the youngster.
“What if she had a guy and she went to prison? Would you look after him?”
“If she couldn’t find herself a guy who could look after himself, Score and I would make sure he wasn’t her man for long.”
A weird double standard lived in that statement somewhere, but Shyla just fixated on the idea that she might go to prison. “What would I go to prison for?”
“You wouldn’t,” Score said, cutting his food.
“Yeah, I’d get you off,” Beeks said and then frowned at his turn of phrase before shaking off his reflection.
