All. Only.

2-2

“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 d**g sold on the streets and run a countrywide p**********n 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 f****d you over, he’d find a way to even the score. Hearing his name scared the s**t 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 set her on fire?”

“They said he kidn*pped her and f**k knows what else, I don’t know,” he said. “But here’s the thing…” Fish hunched his shoulders and lowered his volume, like they were discussing salacious gossip. “Score sits in jail for a year and a half or something while they build the case. He’s sentenced to death, sits on death row a couple of years, Beeks gets it down to life without parole ‘cause, you know, I guess there’s no proof he really kidn*pped her or something. Beeks has connections, you know? So, Score does another three years just living the life, you know?”

Shyla didn’t really, but she nodded anyway. Life in prison wasn’t something she needed a run down on to understand it wasn’t a barrel of laughs.

But Fish didn’t elaborate. Shyla prompted him on. “So…” He glanced her way. “How did he get out?” She gasped and straightened. “He’s not on the run, is he?”

“Man, you’ve gotta open a newspaper once in a while. So, he’s been in prison for like six and a half years until, boom, who walks into the police station with a story to tell?” One glance, then another, Shyla just raised her brows in expectation. “Siobhan Kelly! The woman he’s supposed to have killed. She wasn’t dead at all!”

“Oh my God!” Just trying to wrap her head around the idea was almost impossible. With wide eyes, she stared out at the road ahead. “Oh my God! But who was the woman in the fire?”

He shrugged. “They never bothered to do DNA, because the dental records matched. I mean, who thinks that the murder victim isn’t the murder victim, you know? They had a body, a witness, a suspect… They did the DNA after Siobhan showed up. Turned out she was some co-ed who’d OD’d and been buried the week before, same build as Siobhan. They screwed with her teeth, but yeah, total accidental death.”

“But wait,” Shyla said, turning to him again. “That’s no accident.”

The co-ed’s death might have been accidental, but setting Score up hadn’t been. Someone had to match the dental records and support Siobhan who must have been in hiding.

Shaking his head, Fish looked so proud of himself. He might think she’d been living under a rock, but he was definitely pleased to be telling the story. “It’s all intrigue, right? That’s what Beeks says… turns out Biz paid Siobhan to f**k off to some place south of the border. He set the whole thing up. Siobhan was pissed Score wasn’t putting a ring on her finger, and wanted the whole gangsta life, you know? Biz just wanted his brother out the way, so their dad couldn’t, you know, decide he liked him better or something… So, Score went to prison for a crime he never committed, not even that he didn’t commit, but that never even happened. The media was all over it. They awarded Score like a record figure in compensation or something. I don’t know, he doesn’t talk to me about money…” Closing his mouth, Fish puffed out his cheeks before parting his lips to let the breath out. “He doesn’t really talk to anyone… ‘cept maybe Beeks.”

“What about his family? His dad? His brothers?”

Fish caught a glimpse at her, but shook his head. “He cut all ties. He didn’t hear hardly nothing from his dad while he was in prison. Think Razer kept in touch. Doran, Score’s youngest brother, only went to see him a few times in the later years. That’s all Beeks said… Don’t think Score likes to talk about it.”

“He must be okay talking about it if he told you.”

Fish snickered. “He doesn’t tell me s**t. I knew ‘cause everyone knows. Death row, man, that’s no f*****g joke… He had a rep before he went inside, now he’s not only mean and dangerous, but he’s bitter too, got something to prove… I know all this stuff ‘cause it was all over the news, and Beeks told me some when he set me up to work for Score… But I don’t push Score on nothing. No one does.”

“Have you been working for him long?”

Checking the junction at a stop sign, Fish was a careful driver and she appreciated that he took the time to obey the rules even though the streets were quiet. “A week,” he said. “He’s opening a club, we’re getting the place ready. It’s a lot of responsibility. It’s a big deal.”

“I can imagine.”

At least she had a better idea who she was working for, though she didn’t know what to make of the whole mess. If Shyla had been told that her employer spent time on death row without knowing the surrounding story, she might have been reluctant to work for him. But after learning the truth, her heart broke for him.

If this Siobhan had been upset in their relationship, she could’ve ended it. Instead, she’d conspired with Score’s own brother, another person who was supposed to care for him, and ruined his life.

Death row must have been terrifying. Prison in general was probably terrifying. Score had lost six or seven years just wasting away for something he didn’t do.

She must have been thinking about it for a while. By the time Shyla snapped out of her reflection, they were approaching Score’s building.

“I have to check out this other club tonight,” Fish said. “Score wants me to get the skinny on the competition… Want to come with?”

“A… a nightclub?” Her mouth opened as she shook her head. “I… I’ve never been to a nightclub.”

While trying to determine if it was a good idea, they pulled up to the valet. Fish got out to give the guy his keys. Her things were in the back, she assumed they’d have to unload them. But Fish’s question had left her two steps behind. Shyla was still trying to decide whether or not to accept the invitation when Fish startled her by opening her door.

“Come on out,” he said, offering his hand to draw her out of the truck. “They’ll bring your s**t upstairs… You can unpack, grab some food, and I’ll pick you up about ten… Unless you want me to take you for food first… We’re on expenses, I have a card, so you know, we’re good…”

His brow wiggle made her smile. They went toward the entrance of the building as the valet drove the truck inside.

“Food first might be nice.”

Shyla didn’t have a safety net anymore. For years, she’d lay in bed thinking about what she might be missing out on. That time shrank to nothing as she anticipated learning more about the world and who she was in it.

Fish was a nice guy. She was pleased to have a friend. Other than her grandfather and Stan, she couldn’t say she’d had a real friend since high school. The city was daunting, but Fish seemed like the kind of guy who’d look after a girl. Sure of that, Shyla decided that nothing could go wrong.