“I’m sure he doesn’t call you that.”
“Could call me worse,” Fish said, his smile still broad. “So, I guess you and me will have to get used to each other. I do all his business running around and you’re going to do all the household stuff. Some of the personal will overlap, Beeks said. We’ve to not get under each other’s feet.”
“I have no interest in starting on the wrong foot,” she said and slid closer. “We could exchange numbers… maybe we could be friends.”
His smile widened. “Really?” She nodded. “Man, I don’t have a lot of pretty friends, you know?”
That was flattering enough to make her lips curl too. “You think I’m pretty?”
“Are you kidding? You’re flat out hot,” he said. “Is that how you got the job?”
That was funny. Fish was being sweet, so Shyla didn’t want to laugh in case she offended him. “Score told Beeks to hire me… Beeks implied it was something to do with my brother being in prison.”
His smile became something more serious as he bobbed his head in understanding. “Score knows it’s tough to get a fair shake when you’ve got connections like that. Folks are quick to judge, that’s why us ex-cons have got to stick together.”
“You… did time in prison?”
He nodded and showed her a tattoo on his forearm that meant nothing to her. “Sure did, last stretch was three years. Went in just before Score got out. We were in the same pod a few weeks together, didn’t get close or nothing… He had a rep…obviously. Not many could get close to him… He was on death row two years before Beeks got him down to life without parole…” When he next glanced her way, something, probably her lack of response, made him push his sunglasses to the top of his head. Although she was gaping in the direction of the windshield, she caught that he was frowning. “You do know who he is… don’t you? Are you close to your brother?”
“No,” she said. “Not since we were kids…” Shaking herself out of her shock, Shyla twisted to face him. “I don’t understand, who is he?”
“Phoenix McDade,” Fish said like it should mean something to her, but she was at a loss. “You’ve gotta have heard of the McDades.”
The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it until… Shyla gasped when she recalled a documentary Stan made her watch a couple of years ago. He was into a lot of crime stuff and watched all those cop shows and re-enactment things. Shyla usually only half watched or went to her room to read when he was engrossed in the TV. But the McDade documentary had stuck with her.
“The East Coast McDades?”
His smile was joined by a nod. “Yeah! That’s it. Irish. They control half the import and export of knock off goods. Have interests in every drug sold on the streets and run a countrywide prostitution racket. If it’s illegal, and profitable, they’re making money.”
The documentary went into details of the family’s crimes and their wealth. The three main Irish families battled against each other for a piece of the illegal-turnover-pie that was somewhere in the hundreds of millions. The speculative figure was likely higher these days. It also didn’t account for what the families made from their apparently legitimate businesses.
“Score is the second of Burl McDade’s four sons; Burl’s the head of the family.” Yes, Shyla had a vague recollection that Burl McDade was the father and that the boys’ mother was dead… if she remembered it right. “Parker McDade is the oldest, he runs some of the company now, Burl relies on him. Zaiden McDade, Razer, he and Score were tight. He probably visited prison the most, I guess. Doran, the youngest, he’s snorting and riding his way through life last I heard; there’s nine years between him and Score.”
“Why do they call him Score?”
“ ‘Cause settling scores is his bag. Street calls Parker The Biz, ‘cause he was always into running things. If there was a mess or someone disrespected the family, Biz called in Score and it was dealt with. Was the same in prison. Even on death row, if you could get word to Score that someone had fucked you over, he’d find a way to even the score. Hearing his name scared the shit out of people, but you’d rather him be on your tail than Razer… Razer’s an actual psychopath… that’s what they say. Never met him. Would be cool though, right?”
To meet a psychopath? Shyla wasn’t sure she agreed with that. Razer was less her concern than the man she’d be expected to live with.
The documentary had mentioned one of the McDade sons being in prison, but Shyla couldn’t remember the details. “How did he go from being on death row to being free?”
Fish laughed. “How can you not know this? I thought everyone did. Guess it’s all about the circles you run in,” he said and took a big breath. “Score was in Texas, running with a girl he’d been tagged with for a while. Don’t know much about that, ‘til one day she goes missing and next thing you know, there’s a hotel manager claiming he saw Score beating on the girl and dumping her in his trunk. But there’s no body see. Still the cops are trying hard to pin something on him, then there’s a fire and they find some corpse that matches her dental records.” He took his hands from the wheel to clap them together so loud that she jumped. “So they got him.”
“Their theory is he beat on his girlfriend, took her to someplace else and then
