by A. E. Via
“She didn’t say anything mean, did she? I heard she can be a real spitfire when she’s not getting her way. I swear I’ll go right to HR this afternoon with the complaint.” Mila was rising from her seat as if she was going to get the forms from her desk.
“Sit, sit.” Edison waved. “No. I told her it was denied, and I left the break room. I think I’m just tired from all the hustle and bustle of getting these emergency filings completed. I’m actually looking forward to things slowing down, and focusing on the community appreciation in the park project coming up.” Yeah, that would keep his mind occupied. He loved that project and even though he didn’t have the time to spearhead it, he discreetly micromanaged it.
“Fine. I came in here to tell you that your senior staff meeting has been changed from conference room one to Bravo. I sent it to your phone twenty minutes ago, but you hadn’t read it yet.” She stood and adjusted her floral, flowy dress and went to stand where Edison had just been touching himself in front of the open window. He wiped his hand over his smooth jaw, trying to appear unruffled. “What were you looking at that was so fascinating out here that I scared the bejesus out of ya anyway?”
Edison swallowed. “I was just checking out the work being done down there. Those guys are good.”
“I know, right.” She smiled, craning her head at whatever had caught her eye. “A few of the guys were staring so hard at me when I came in this morning I was about to tell them to take a picture, it’d last longer.”
Edison shook his head. Mila was so full of confidence, he wished he could borrow some of it. “None of them have been inappropriate, have they?” Edison asked, keeping on his boss hat.
“No. I hope they do, though. A girl needs to hear a few catcalls and brash innuendo sometimes.” She grinned at him. “You could stand to hear a little, too, because I’m sure when you hang out with Skylar he doesn’t exactly flood you with positive reinforcement.”
“I don’t hang out with him.” Edison clenched his teeth. “He’s come to my house a few times to pick up something or another, and we’ve gone to a few meetings together, but that’s only because Skylar likes to be chauffeured.”
“And you comply,” Mila said, giving him a pitying frown. “You’re the boss, Edison. You can’t let them run all over you because you want to fit in. Skylar, Jessica, Courtney, and Smith… they’re not the cool kids, ya know. You need a better circle of friends.”
What friends? Edison breathed. None of those people hung out with him, ever. He appreciated his assistant’s concern but he kind of wanted to be left alone now. “Mila, um. Can you confirm the Bravo meet—?”
“Already did,” she said swiftly.
Edison glanced around his desk to see what he could ask her to do to get her back to her cubicle. “Then can you call Ms. Strollenburg and tell her that I—?”
“Done and done. She’ll be in at five-thirty with the documents you requested right before she has to go to her night job.” Mila stood. “Keep your head out the clouds and check your updated schedule.”
That so wasn’t where his head was—neither one of them—but okay. “Sure. I’ll look at it right now.”
“And don’t eat anything at Bravo, you had lunch there last week. And I know you’re cooking at home,” Mila said on her way out. She could talk to him like that because he knew she meant well and wanted Edison to be healthy and happy in his own skin.
Edison ran his tie through his fingers. “Surely, an appetizer wouldn’t hurt. And… maybe some of their bread and oil.”
“Edison,” she growled.
“Yeah, okay, no bread. Go on, shoo, I have a few calls to make.”
“I’ll know if you ate it anyway,” she warned, then closed his door behind her.
Chapter Ten
Bishop
The week had gone well and Bishop was enjoying the new project but he was glad it was Friday. He’d told his dad that he was going back to Town Center to check on their equipment because he didn’t think the tarps over their bags of premium black mulch were secured enough for the entire weekend, and wanted to double-check. They were expected to have thunderstorms on Sunday, but Mike had still looked at him skeptically. Bishop was concerned about the tarps but he also wanted to make another run nearby. It was a few seconds before he’d relented and tossed him the truck keys. Fridays meant his dad would be at his girlfriend’s apartment until tomorrow night. Bishop liked to take advantage of having the place to himself when he could turn off the loud television and put in one of those CD books and work on some sketches. But no more romance! If he heard another two pages of breathing and groaning, he was going to tug his blue balls off.
Sure, it would’ve been easy for him to find a hottie for the night at one of the clubs downtown, but that wasn’t what Bishop wanted. After seeing what he had in prison, the thought of meaningless, loveless sex made his stomach turn. Made him feel like he should be back in those cells, listening to the rutting and grunting of angry, hard bodies. It’d been in his face, the opportunities, and he’d fought it the entire time, vowing that he’d wait until he could hold a man willingly and tenderly in his arms. Someone who wanted him.
I’m telling you he has the IQ of an ant! Bishop hit the steering wheel with his fist then scrubbed his hand over his head. He wanted to stop replaying that statement over and over in his mind, but he didn’t know how. Shit. Why the hell couldn’t he? He’d told Royce goodbye.
Bishop stared at the bright green neon sign on top of the store he was parked in front of. He’d watched several people go in and out of the Barnes & Noble for the past fifteen minutes, trying to will himself to get out of the truck. He knew it was stupid to be intimidated by a store, but dammit, he was. However, it was either go in there and find a book CD that he would enjoy or be forced to listen to the one Sicilia had given him when he’d dropped Trent off. Bishop pushed his thumb against his temple when he thought of the cover of the man and woman kissing each other while being swept up in a wave on the beach. Just get out, man. Bishop could almost hear his cellmate Woods’ voice. He’d be kicking him in the ass right now for doubting himself so much.
He held the door for a couple of women walking ahead of him. They smiled and both said pleasant thank-yous while giving him a discreet once-over. He didn’t tug anxiously at his dark clothes, instead he held his head up and stepped into the brightly lit bookstore. A lot jumped out and attacked his senses at once. The most potent being the robust scent of coffee. Bishop recognized the Starbucks logo in the café area and avoided going in that direction. He moved farther down the aisle, trying not to look like a tourist and gazed up at the high ceiling and towering shelves of literature. Large signs and advertisements were posted on each table he passed. But, not only was every available space crammed with books, but also toys, candies, foods, office supplies, and much more.
Everyone else moved around him, stopping at various tables to check out the selection, then picking up a book and flipping it over to the back to read more about it. Bishop’s heart started to race. Did those people even know how lucky they were? Did they take their education for granted or did they ever think about the people who didn’t make it, but had slipped through the cracks? Bishop didn’t blame any system for the choices he’d made. All he wanted now was a chance to start over. Maybe even do it right this time. But, that would never happen if he kept letting fear grip him. Not the fear of being illiterate. More the fear of being condemned for being illiterate.
He had to make the conscious choice to change his situation himself. He’d get his CD book then he’d see if they had anything on beginning reading. Bishop craned his head in different directions, scanning for something that resembled what Sil had given him. He walked down an empty aisle, noticing the books on those shelves looked like comics and graphic art. He wanted to stop and pick one up, but he figured he better first get what he came for, before he checked out something else. He wanted to stay there all night and go through everything they had, but it felt like he wore
a blinking red sign over his head that flashed I can’t read.
He must’ve appeared lost no matter how hard he’d tried, because a young, pimply-faced boy walked up to him, wearing a dark green employee shirt and asked if he could help him find anything. Bishop remembered going through that awkward phase of a high-pitched voice and acne that wouldn’t quit. He also remembered Mike telling him that getting pimples meant it was time for a boy to get some ass and become a man. And Bishop had been damned, it’d worked. Mike wasn’t parent of the year, but that was how he’d grown up.
Bishop was glad it was this kid who’d asked to help him. “Yeah. I’m looking for your book CDs.”
The kid frowned. He had a clipboard in his hand and a tablet resting on top of that. “Book CD?”
Shit. Now he wasn’t sure if he was calling them the correct thing. “Yeah. The books that are on CD ROM.”
The employee snapped his fingers then popped himself in the side of the head. “Audiobooks! Right.” The kid pointed over Bishop’s shoulder. “You don’t hear CD ROM much anymore, but yeah, we do have some hard copies in here.”
Audiobooks. Got it. Hard copies? Bishop wasn’t sure if that was what he was looking for but he followed the kid anyway.
“Right over here.” He pointed at the different shelves. “This is all we carry in the store, but if you have a title you want me to look up I can see if we have it and order it for you.”
“No.” Bishop nodded. “This is good.”
“Okay. I’ll be around.” The guy moved off and Bishop found himself smiling at how much easier that’d been than he thought. Young dude hadn’t suspected a thing. Bishop walked closer to the shelves, avoiding the books that were pastel-looking and sweet, and instead started scoping for covers that had some men on the front, preferably with guns, or running in a dark alley, or standing in front of an explosion. Something that screamed mystery and suspense, not, orgasms await.
He found one of a lonely man standing in front of large window staring out across a lake. A book by L.T. somebody. Then he selected one with a silhouetted man walking down a dimly lit street with a kid beside him. Bishop recognized the word assassin in the title from his favorite video game called Assassin’s Creed. This one’s got to be good. He wanted to keep searching and buy them all, but at ten ninety-nine each, he’d stick with just two.
“You all straight, dude?” The kid intercepted him when he was walking towards the checkout. Bishop was feeling elated with his new audiobooks, his own books. Now all he had to do was keep making strides to better his life.
“Actually. I am looking for one more thing.”
“Sure. Come on over here.” The young man swerved through the maze of tables and counters until he got to a customer service station in the center of the store. He pecked some keys on the keyboard and brought the monitor to life then asked Bishop what title he needed.
“I don’t have a title. What section is the… learn-how-to-read books?” Bishop had lowered his voice on the last part of his question, even though there was no one else at the counter.
“For what grade?” The guy asked.
Bishop grimaced. Dammit. His mind was already screaming for him to run, abort. Bishop felt someone approach on his right side waiting for service, gaping right at them. Was there no privacy with counter transactions anymore? Or did he just feel as if everybody was watching him.
“For elementary school?”
Bishop’s throat suddenly felt as if he had a block lodged in it. How’d he not think of this first? He couldn’t start with anything too heavy. It also didn’t help that he was now close to the children’s section of the store, and the sight of babies who looked no older than five or six were sitting at little tables and flipping through their books. Yeah, he needed to leave now. “I um. Thanks. I’m just gonna take these.”
The kid’s eyes widened then lowered as if he’d realized what Bishop was saying. First the audiobooks, now he was asking for a book on how-to-read. The guy wasn’t dumb. Then right on cue came the pitiful, I-feel-so-sorry-for-you expression.
“Good night,” Bishop murmured and turned to leave.
“Over there under the hanging unicorn in the far corner is something you might be looking for.”
Bishop followed the guy’s gaze and retreated to the, thankfully deserted, section of the store. He checked out the books on the shelves under the glittery stuffed animal and immediately felt like melting into the floor. And just that fast, his elated mood collapsed to his dirty boots. Most of the books had colorful pictures of smiling children on them, holding up books in victory. There were also flash cards and lesson books. All of them appearing to be for grade school. Bishop cursed under his breath then hurried and grabbed the one that said easy and had the number one in the top left corner, assuming it was a beginning level. He almost changed his mind again when he got to the front of the store and saw the line had backed up and there were only two cashiers working the registers. All these people in here on a Friday night and they’re not better staffed than this?
Bishop had his first-level lesson book tucked under his arm and the audiobooks in his hand while he slowly spun a carousel of bookmarks to avoid eye contact or idle chatter in the line. The sudden blare of a high-speed blender made him glance in the direction of the busy Starbucks. Bishop’s tongue caught in his throat when his eyes landed on the overly helpful man who’d approached him when he’d been surveying the Town Center property. Light eyes that brightened even more when he saw him. Shit. Bishop hoped like hell he wasn’t going to come over and try to… fuck.
Bishop panicked when the guy threw a finger up in his direction and stood from his round table, hurrying to gather his books and drink. He’d been sitting with someone, but he didn’t even bother to acknowledge his friend before he left him and came towards the front of the store.
No, no, no. Bishop hurried and untucked the workbook from his armpit and slid it underneath a stack of calendars on the table beside him. His hands almost shook as he made sure no parts of the elementary school book could be seen. Bishop looked up just in time to see Mr. Helpful entering at the opening of the line, making his way towards him with a surprised but slightly nervous expression playing over his face.
Bishop tried not to study him, but it was hard. The guy had a certain interesting quality to him. He was younger than him for sure, because his face was as smooth as silk, but he didn’t talk like it. He also didn’t dress like it. He had on slacks that fit his thick legs well and Bishop liked how they hugged him in all the right places. He had a slight pudge pushing against his nice leather belt and his chest was full, not broad and not ridged with definition either; but Bishop found he liked the way the whole package was put together.
“Hello,” the guy said in a pleasant tone, the word leaving those smiling lips on a winded breath.
Bishop nodded his head once then croaked, “Hey.”
“I’m um. I’m Edison. Do… do you remember me from the other night? I work at the—”
“I remember,” Bishop said, not meaning to cut him off, but he was nervous and pissed he’d almost got busted. Not only was Edison quite attractive up close and in all this bold lighting, but by-god he brought an amazing scent along with him. Clean, cool and inviting.
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Edison laughed. He rubbed his hand down his sharp, black tie then glanced around as if he was searching for more words.
Bishop didn’t come to his rescue either. Instead, he continued to study Edison, not sure why he was so wound up around him. He was sure he was nothing but a laborer to this guy. However, he needed to play nice, he couldn’t jeopardize his job for anything. Bishop thought he’d done a good job on appearing less intimidating and not so ‘scowly’—as Mike had put it—however, Edison still wouldn’t meet and hold his eyes for long. When Bishop was able to remove his gaze from Edison’s soft-looking skin and full lips, he noticed he had two thick paperbacks braced in the crook of one arm.
Edison glanced down at his
own selection then over at what Bishop had his hand. His face broke into a megawatt smile that almost blinded him. “Audiobooks. Nice. I love those, I have at least—”
“Man. Not cool, Edison,” A guy said rudely, talking over Edison’s calm voice. He’d come from out of nowhere. Or maybe Bishop just hadn’t bothered to notice anyone else. The guy Edison had been sitting with in the café was standing behind him practically frowning at the back of his skull. “You could’ve waited. I said I was wrapping up an email.”
Bishop watched Edison take a deep breath before bothering to turn and acknowledge his friend. “Wait for what, Skylar?”
“It’s just Sky. I told you that a million times. I know you hate nicknames, but mine makes me sound sexy.” Skylar smirked.
“And as your boss that’s the opposite of what I’m going for… I told you that a million times.”
“Look. I’m not interested in standing in this line. Pay for these for me,” the man had the audacity to request.
Bishop didn’t know what to make of this arrogant prick. He stood there perplexed that they even made guys like this anymore—whiny, self-important and vain. As if he was a wannabe copy of one of the men in the GQ magazine he was holding.
“I think you can manage that yourself,” Edison said coolly, then turned back to Bishop. “So, anyway. I was mentioning my love for audiobooks too. I have so many I had to buy a separate bookcase just for those.”
Prick must not have noticed that Edison was interested in something else besides him, because the second he did, he tucked his phone into his designer jeans pocket and folded his arms over his chest to observe. Bishop didn’t like the irritated expression he bored into Edison’s head or the repulsed look he gave him.