Work In Progress - Syx and the City Book 2

Syx 2 teaser .jpg

Sample, Even Though it is not Sunday. 

Unedited. Subject to change. And... coming soon. 

My eyes burned from staring at the computer screen for hours upon end. I’d been on Zillow for the better half of the day, searching for apartments near my sister’s dwelling. I’d found a handful, and promised to check them out if I didn’t like the listings that Sevyn’s landlord would be viewing with me in a few days. As promised, Sevyn set up a meeting to see units within her building.

Finally deciding on giving it a rest, I placed my hand over my screen and pulled it down towards the keyboard. The darkness covered the sky and the moonlight radiated through the open blinds, supplying me with illumination after my computer was sealed. Reaching towards the back of the couch, I grabbed the throw that I had been using to keep me warm.

A deep, relaxing sigh tugged at my lips as I folded my body onto the sofa. Rest was upon me. There was no doubt that I would be sleeping soon after my head graced the satin pillow case beneath me. Just as I drifted, my phone alerted me of an incoming call. Groaning in sadness, I maneuvered from my comfort and grabbed my cell from the end table.

My eyes glossed, adjusting to the brightness of my screen. The minute they cleared, my breath got caught in my chest and limbs began to numb. I swallowed the baseball-sized lump that had formed in my throat and threatened my oxygen supply.

Trough Mallard? I questioned with a frown. Before I was able to conjure the confidence to complete his call, the phone stopped vibrating. Relieved, I cuffed it in my hand and aimed for the comfort I’d witnessed before his disruption. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to conquer, especially not with my cell convulsing in my hand.


“Syx.” The stress in his tone caused me to rise.

Shifting on the couch, I remained quiet until I was upright with my legs on the floor and my elbows at my knees. I wanted to question the nature of his call, but the more prominent voice in my head was nudging me to dissect his current plight. Drop the arrogance and bring peace to whatever war he was battling. Determine his dilemma and try my hardest to exonerate it, even if only for the duration of our phone call. 

“Trough?” I inquired as if I couldn’t recognize his voice over a room full of chatter.

“Yeah.” He paused, forever calculated. “It’s me.”

“Hey.” I barely recognized the cooing in my voice, much like a mother attempting to comfort her broken-spirited cub.

The pain in my chest announced its presence as I waited for his response. Lifting a hand, I rubbed the spot where I felt the most pressure in an attempt to relieve myself. It wasn’t until I heard his voice again that it subsided, but only enough for me to respond to his reply.

“Hey.” Trough paused. “Where are you?”

“I’m in New York.” I blurted.

“Your things. They’re still at the house. Be prepared for flight by morning. I’m sending a car for you. Have your sister come with. You’ll need an extra body to help you with your luggage and clear out your section of the house.”

I cringed each time he referred to his home as “the house”. It had been his pride and joy, once, but the bitterness in his voice as he repeated the word proved the recollection to be difficult on his behalf. My response was delayed as I heard him belting orders in the background, being sure that a driver was at my sister’s building by nine the following morning.

“Okay.” I nodded as if he could see me.

“And Syx.” The despair in his tenor returned, gripping my heartstrings, again.

“Yeah?” I cleared my throat and removed the socks from my feet. Suddenly, the temperature had spiked and I felt as if I was about to break a sweat.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly, the line became quiet as he waited for me to supply him with an explanation.

I felt as if I’d been hit with a MACK truck. I couldn’t quite understand how he exude the confidence of the fiercest lion in the kingdom and could question my emotional state so effortlessly. On the other hand, I’d been biting my tongue, afraid to approach the subject of his emotional state even though it was obviously in limbo.

Closing my eyes, I sighed and recalled the cruel thoughts I’d adopted since our night together. The chastisement circled my thoughts. The guilt. The tears. The worry. The torture I’d been putting myself through. They all came rushing to the forefront, but I rejected their presence and opted for a more selfless rejoinder.

“I’m managing. Are you?” There. A gush of fresh air shot from my lungs, and I felt as if I could breathe, again.

“Hard to tell. See you in the morning.” Just like that, he’d shut down and iced up –reminding me that I barely knew him and probing into his personal wasn’t the best idea.

Strangely, I took offense to the shield he’d buried himself behind. As I stretched my lips to confront his sudden change in demeanor, I realized the line had gone dead. Rolling my eyes into the ceiling, I fell backward onto the couch and groaned.

“Fuck.” I’d been down this road before.

Grey HuffingtonComment