Bishop

by A. E. Via

  “I understand,” Bishop grumbled.

  Edison took a deep breath as Bishop walked over to him. He didn’t stop until they were a few inches apart. He gazed down on him in that way that made Edison’s skin tight and his stomach flip. “It’s not too big a job and I’ll take it. But… but I have to speak with you first, Edison.”

  He frowned at Bishop’s sudden seriousness, but quickly nodded his head and led them back inside. They both stopped and stood at the breakfast bar, and it was then that Edison noticed Bishop’s hands shaking.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” Bishop asked.

  “Of course. Down the hall. Second door on the left.” Edison went in the kitchen. “I’ll grab us some waters.”

  “Okay,” was all Bishop said as he left the room with his shoulders rigid.

  What just happened? He knew he wasn’t good at the whole attraction thing but what’d he say that was so wrong? Edison replayed everything in his mind from the moment Bishop had pulled up in his driveway because that was what he did. He overthought things. They’d been fine at that point. Bishop had even flirted with him in his kitchen. It was something he said when they were in the backyard that upset Bishop.

  Bishop’s footsteps down the hall were slow, as if he was on his way to face his doom. When he turned the corner, the look of weariness and frustration etched all over his rugged features made Edison nervous. What the heck had happened? “Bishop. Are you okay? Here, sit down, I poured you a glass of water.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bishop

  He wanted nothing more than to leave out of the front door with his head hanging low and his spirit defeated, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t run and he didn’t cower. But he wished he knew what power Edison had over him already. He took the glass of water offered to him, all the while wanting so much more of what this gentle man had to give. When they’d been in the kitchen earlier and Bishop had let his guard down a fraction to feel some of Edison’s goodness, he’d momentarily forgotten how different their worlds were. And it’d only taken a second for him to realize he was so far out of his league it wasn’t funny.

  Edison talked about creating a space specifically for reading because he probably thought Bishop was smart and loved to read, too. But he was wrong. Bishop loved stories and escaping reality, but he didn’t love to read. Edison only wanted someone on his property he could trust, and the moment he’d said that, Bishop knew he was no longer qualified. No one wanted a man around who’d been convicted of accessory to armed robbery.

  He drank the entire glass of water but his mouth was still a desert. “Can I have another glass, Edison?” Bishop croaked, barely maintaining his eye contact.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Edison retrieved a bottle of water from his refrigerator and set it in front of him.

  Bishop didn’t bother pouring the water into the glass, instead turning it up and downing half of it while Edison fidgeted beside him. He just needed to spit it out. Anyone else he’d tell to fuck off, that his personal business was his damn business. But, he couldn’t do that with Edison if he ever wanted him to truly look at him as he was.

  “I just wanted to clear a few things up about me.” Bishop coughed roughly into his palm, his voice getting caught in his throat. “I think you may have gotten the wrong idea. I um. I don’t own Stockley Lawn Services. My dad does. Well, him and his best friend Manny. I don’t… I run the crews and do most of the designing. But I didn’t put together that fancy bid or nothing.” Bishop dropped his hand to the counter. “I don’t do any of the paperwork or business stuff. I just fucking draw and cut.”

  Edison blinked then huffed what sounded like a relieved breath.

  Well shit.

  “That’s it?” Edison walked into the kitchen and pulled a plate from his cabinet. One by one, he began plating those cookies that were cooling on the island, while glancing up at him with a slight smile. “You work with your father. That must be nice.”

  “Excuse me?” Bishop frowned.

  Edison seemed surprised. “What? You don’t like it? Does he ride you hard?”

  Bishop shook his head, a bit confused. “No. He’s cool. Annoyingly cool.”

  Edison laughed. “I don’t care if you’re the owner, Bishop. I mean. You’re still… great. And good at your job.” Edison bit half a cookie, then licked the few crumbs off his bottom lip and started chewing slowly, distracting Bishop from what he was saying. “Besides, my pop owned his barbering business, not me, and I used to work at his shop. It catered to older men and I loved spending every free second I had there. Listening, watching, learning.”

  Now Bishop understood. Edison must’ve had a special relationship with his dad to think the way he did. And Bishop was glad he didn’t care about that little tidbit, however, it wasn’t what Bishop really had to tell him. It wasn’t what had his knees shaking.

  “Did you learn landscape design from him? Has the student surpassed the teacher?” Edison ate the rest of his cookie. Then placed a few in front of Bishop on a paper napkin. “Okay, these are really good. You have to try them.”

  Bishop didn’t reach for them. He couldn’t. “No, Edison, that’s not it. And, no my dad didn’t teach me much of anything. We didn’t have a steady relationship when I was growing up. I learned landscaping on my own when I was younger and needed to work. My dad didn’t get his business until I was…”

  He must’ve been quiet too long because Edison came and stood beside him. “Until you were what?” he said in that comforting tenor.

  Bishop stared into those beautiful eyes and said a small prayer for a miracle. Please let him understand, somehow. “I’ve only worked for my dad for the past six months. Because before that… before that I was in prison for the last five years.”

  Edison’s open smile fell from his full lips like a MC drops the mic. He definitely didn’t laugh that confession off. Edison stood straighter, and stepped back, putting some distance between them. Bishop swallowed roughly as his stomach rolled with anguish and irritation. Fuck! He should’ve known all this was too much to ask. He glanced around Edison’s home, regardless of how well-lived in and tempting it looked, he didn’t belong in it. Already, Edison was pulling back and the rejection stung like hell. Bishop dropped his head and laughed grimly. “I thought you should know since… I guess I’ll get going.”

  His dad had warned him… but he hadn’t listened.

  “What were you in for?” Edison asked before Bishop could move.

  Bishop raised his head. That was always the next question. “Accessory to strong armed robbery.” Edison’s reaction was muted this time, as if he was being careful. Bishop shook his head. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how his life had turned out. Couldn’t fathom that he’d have to do this forever. If he wanted a relationship, he had to include a goddamn disclaimer first. “I know just about everyone says this shit… but I swear… I didn’t have anything to do with it. But I’d made enemies and I couldn’t roll over.”

  “Roll over.”

  “Snitch,” Bishop clarified. “I’m not a man of excuses. I’m not blaming anyone else for my choices. I’m just ready to move on with my life. The only reason I told you is because…”

  “Because,” Edison whispered, after a long moment.

  Bishop’s pulse sped up when Edison inched closer, his eyes focused on him. He told him the truth, “Because I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of man. A violent man. I didn’t strong-arm anyone, Edison.” And I’d never, ever, put a hand on you unless it’s to make you feel good.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Edison said. He rubbed his hand over his jaw again, as if he did it whenever he was in deep thought or anxious.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Bishop didn’t want to ask but he had to know. Had to be sure that his presence wasn’t making someone uncomfortable in their own home.

  “If you do… I hope you’ll come back.” Edison didn’t hesitate. “Look, I’ve studied the criminal justice syste
m for as long as I can remember. I have a love for the law like you do for landscaping. And there’s always been one thing that I honestly believe; that if a man commits a crime then he should be punished within the parameters of the law. And if a man serves his time then he’s paid his debt to society and should be granted a fresh start. That’s the way the system is designed. I really do appreciate your honesty and forwardness, Bishop. It’s admirable.”

  Damn, it was crazy that this young-old guy spoke the way he did, and Bishop hung on his every word.

  “But your past record has no bearing on this job. I would like to hire you for your expertise.” Edison paused, his lids lowering as his gaze wandered down Bishop’s face, to his throat. “Because I believe you’re the right man to give me what I’m looking for, Bishop.”

  Bishop read all kinds of hidden meanings in that statement and stored it away for later. Edison was incredible, and the more Bishop got to know him the more he realized how much he liked him. Bishop had known hood life, struggles, and poverty for as long as he could remember. He’d surrounded himself with guys who were out to get theirs and didn’t care what necks and backs they stepped on to get it and called them family. He’d been young and stupid and had realized it too late. Now, either he could wallow in his predicament or he could change it.

  Bishop’s balls were heavy between his thighs, his hands twitched to touch, to hold, but he’d learned restraint. If he did this right and exhibited patience, he could earn the right to give Edison what he’d be looking for. “I believe I am too.”

  “Good.” Edison nodded, his sweet smile back in place. “Now are you gonna eat those cookies, or should I?”

  Bishop laughed… he laughed, then popped a whole cookie into his mouth. He chewed it slow, the way Edison had, as the warm treat exploded with flavor on his tongue. He moaned loudly, going for another. Damn, they were fucking delicious. He didn’t hold back his praises and may have OD’d a little on the groans, but he liked how Edison was watching him with fascination.

  “Let me give you a few to take home.” Edison dragged his eyes away from Bishop’s mouth. He’d been ogling the whole time, and Bishop had been careful as he snuck glimpses of the bulge in Edison’s thin pants.

  “I could eat all of those. You got skills, handsome.” Bishop took the Ziploc bag. “I’ll add these in with my lunch.”

  “You take your lunch?” Edison beamed. “Me too. Most days I have leftovers.”

  Bishop smirked. “I do. It’s cheaper. My lunch is usually a turkey and cheese, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and protein bars.”

  “Oh fudge!” Edison recoiled. “That sounds … not appetizing.”

  Bishop was mesmerized and charmed. “Did you just say fudge?”

  “Shut up.” Edison rolled his eyes. “I see no reason to curse just for the heck of it.”

  “You mean like I do?” Bishop winked, making Edison blush and turn away.

  “No. Not you.” Edison shrugged. “You talk fine.”

  Bishop could’ve lingered there all night but… “I should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “Its fine… really. It was nice to have some company for a while. Break up the monotony of work and reading.” Edison began to walk him to the front door. “When do you think you can get started?”

  “I can put some sketches together this week. And we can go over them on Friday to see if it’s something you like. If all’s approved, I’ll do a simple contract and I can start this weekend. Do you mind me working evenings during the week until it’s complete? It’ll go a lot faster.”

  “No. Not at all. I’m home every night. You won’t be disturbing or interrupting anything.”

  Home every night? God, why was a man as gorgeous as him alone every night? Well he won’t be anymore. “Okay. Friday it is.”

  Edison stood in the doorway after Bishop walked down the couple of steps, “I’ll see you then.”

  Yes, you will. Bishop’s entire ride home he thought that this could be the night when it all changed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bishop

  It was the fourth night in a row that Bishop hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d lain in bed again with his hand down his briefs and his mind consumed with Edison. He’d seen him leaving to and from work each day in those nice suits, but they hadn’t spoken to each other, just a wave or nod. It wasn’t enough! Bishop was going crazy. He had so many questions he’d wanted to ask, especially after he’d had to air his own ugly skeletons. Like how old was Edison? What’d happened to his dad, and why was he all alone? How’d he’d get so mature? Many more swirled around in his head, along with ideas for his backyard reading nook that was going to impress the hell out of him. If Bishop couldn’t be anything more for Edison, he could definitely be the right man for this job.

  He was dressed by six Friday morning and at the table eating his second bowl of cereal when he heard Mike’s door open. His dad was in his boxers, his steps heavy, and his face scrunched-up as if he was impersonating the Grinch. “What the hell are you doing up so early?” he grumbled, leaving the door open while he took a long piss.

  “I need your help with something,” Bishop said, adding a few finishing touches to his sketches.

  “Damn, boy. Are those some new designs for me?” Mike asked, leaning over Bishop with his morning breath.

  Bishop bowed him away. “Dad, go brush your teeth, I got something to talk to you about.”

  “Fuck off.” Mike reached into the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice. He finished it in a couple of gulps then tossed the container into the garbage. He sat in the chair across from him, still looking half sleep. “Better?”

  Bishop scoffed. “Whatever. Look. These are for that side job I got.”

  “Oh. So you got it? I hadn’t heard anything else.”

  “Yeah, I got it. These are a few different ideas for me to show him today but I wanted to know if you could do up a quick contract for me after I show these?”

  “Sure, Bishop. That’s no problem.” Mike rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Was that all?”

  “Um.” Bishop pushed his bowl to the side. “You mentioned this school when I got home about—”

  “The one where you bit my head off and I ain’t mentioned that shit since,” Mike snarked.

  “That one,” Bishop said through clenched teeth. “You think you can maybe…?”

  His dad got up and came around the table and gave him a big, wet, sloppy, stinking kiss on his cheek. Bishop shoved his dad away. “Dude, get the fuck off.”

  “I’m proud of you for even asking, man. I got your back.” Mike headed towards his bedroom. “I love you, B. Let me throw my shit on. I’ll be out in a second. I saved the website on the laptop.”

  “Ugh, not the laptop,” Bishop grumbled. He hated the sound of that. Technology was the devil. All that complicated device did to him was show him how uneducated and out of date he was. His mood was deflating already. He scrubbed his hand over his beard. He could do this. He had to do this. He wanted to be a better man. Not only to be worthy of a good partner, but for himself. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore. He didn’t want to be illiterate. He wanted to walk hand-and-hand into a bookstore with his guy and browse like everyone else. He was certain it sounded small and simple, but it was what he wanted.

  “All right, we got about an hour before we gotta get to work. Let’s take a look,” Mike said, setting his laptop on the table and sliding their chairs close together. “I’ve already done quite a bit of research before you came home, and it looks like the Adult Learning Center is your best bet.”

  “Why?” Bishop asked. He waited while Mike dragged his finger over the smooth pad and clicked on various shit. Bishop was already gritting his teeth, having no clue what his dad was doing.

  “Because they have evaluation testing so you can see exactly where you are, and then they have online prep courses you can do at various levels that I think all lead up to you taking the GED.” Mike threw
his hand up as soon as Bishop opened his mouth to argue. “You don’t need to even think about that test right now. First things first. We’re just interested in the starter classes they have.”

  Bishop didn’t look his dad in the eye, instead he kept them on the screen. He hated the feeling of humiliation. “Online prep?”

  “Yes. Meaning…” Mike squinted at the screen then clicked on some highlighted words. “It’s basically a virtual classroom. You do all the work from your home on the laptop.”

  Bishop ran his hands back and forth over his short hair. If he’d had any length up there he probably would’ve yanked it out of his scalp. “Fucking hell, Mike! Why are you even showing me this? I can’t do nothing on that thing,” Bishop growled, shoving the laptop away.

  “Hey!” his dad barked, glaring back at him. “Calm the fuck down.”

  Bishop fought to control his anger, his disappointment. Was this the only way? Did every fucking thing have to be on-the-goddamn-line? What happened to going to a building and speaking with a person and getting some help? He had no idea how to use a computer, and if that was the only way for him to continue his education then he was royally screwed. The thought of having to work on one of those things made his palms sweat. And the hope he’d had of ever being good enough for a man like Edison was fading faster than an evening sunset.

  “Bishop. Look. I know it sounds shitty. But I can help you. The programs are set up for whatever level you’re on. You can take the eval test, and when you’re enrolled they’ll probably give you logins to apps that’ll be real user-friendly, I’m sure. And when you start using it… you’ll see… you’ll learn it, Bishop. This is learning. No one said it’d be a piece of cake. Nothing is. But, I’m here now and I ain’t going nowhere. I can help.”