Bishop

by A. E. Via

  Skylar glanced over at him as they stood side by side to take the short ride to the fourth floor. He curled one side of his lip, “I didn’t think you were that desperate, Edison. Gosh. Messing around with someone like that… I thought you were supposed to be the epitome of class.”

  Edison was so stunned that it took him a moment to gather his wits enough to respond. He had to clench his teeth to keep from calling Skylar a couple of the names that were popping into his head. Instead, he clenched his teeth and said, “I suggest you remember who you’re talking to. And the subject of my personal life is completely off limits… and private. Do you understand? If I catch even a hint that you’ve been spreading gossip about me or anyone in Stockley Lawn Services around the office, I’ll have you explaining your immature behavior to human resources. I have no time for that distraction in my department.”

  Edison was so pissed he thought if the doors hadn’t opened when they did, he might’ve told Skylar just how much of a man Bishop really was and no matter what, Skylar would never be half the man he was. It was his turn to stop and level his own intimidating glare on Skylar and from the way his head jerked back, and his steps faltered, Edison would say he’d nailed it. “I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Bishop

  Bishop finished packing a pair of worn denims and a plain blue T-shirt into his bag along with a few of his toiletries. If Edison wanted to feed him tonight, he wasn’t saying no. He wanted his heartfelt food, but most of all he wanted his company. Bishop was on a mission, and he had no time to waste. He’d seen the look in Skylar’s eyes when he’d touched Edison, when he’d boldly leaned in and inhaled his fresh aftershave. He’d needed to show that jerk that he was definitely making a play for Edison Scala, and he wasn’t afraid to make it known. Bishop would be so damn proud to have a man like Eddie on his arm, for his very own.

  And without fail, the moment a man finds a treasure… here come the fucking pirates to steal it.

  He’d overheard Skylar talking Edison’s ear off on their way up the walkway. Skylar bragging about a bunch of babes he’d had over the weekend. Yeah, right. Bishop saw right through that bullshit. That guy was as gay as the day was long, or at least bi. And now he knew why he gave Edison such a hard time—because he was living the life he wanted.

  Bishop hated he hadn’t had the opportunity to see Edison before he had to leave for the day. He and Mike had knocked off early so he could help Bishop get signed up for his GED prep classes. He’d been on edge all afternoon, ever since Mike told him the center had emailed his evaluation scores.

  “Come on B, if you want me to do this,” his dad yelled from the dining room where he sat with the laptop in front of him. “I’m taking Erin to the movies in an hour and she’ll kick my ass if I make her miss the previews.”

  “All right, all right,” Bishop said, coming down the hall, tying the arms of his coveralls around his waist at the same time. He let his bag hit the floor beside him and dropped into the chair. He wanted to hurry and get through this next step, but he didn’t wanna hear the truth about the scores. Maybe he’d just have Mike skip over that part. He already knew the truth anyway. “What’s the word? You don’t have to read it to me. Just give it to me straight, no chaser. How stupid am I and how long will it be before I can even think of taking that high school equivalency test?”

  “Hey. Don’t say that about—”

  “Mike,” Bishop growled, not interested in a damn inspirational talk.

  “Fine.” Mike scanned the page. “Well you did pretty good on the math, but you still have some pre-reqs to take before you—”

  “What are pre-reqs?” Bishop frowned.

  “It’s short for prerequisites. Remember I said you may have to do some prep class before you get to the actual GED prep classes.” Mike pointed out to him. “And they’ve listed the catalog numbers of the courses and the availability. Like I said, they have online classes, and…” Mike squinted at the paper. “But the only one you can take is part online, part classroom. It meets on Tuesdays.”

  “What do you mean?” Bishop asked, his leg bouncing uncontrollably under the table.

  “It looks like you can’t enroll in the math, social studies, or science until you take the adult reading and language arts rehabilitation study courses.” Mike cocked his head to the side.

  “Oh, I remember those.” Bishop laughed sadly. “That’s another way to say remedial classes. For the really illiterate. How much do you wanna bet it’ll just be me and maybe two other people in there.”

  Mike tried to hide his grimace, but Bishop saw it… saw the pity too. “Okay then. We’ll just get signed up for this one. Start slow and steady as we go.”

  “‘We’,” Bishop scoffed.

  “Yes, ‘We’,” Mike bit out. “Each course is for four weeks, B, and it’s just level one. I’m with you all way through this, lil homie. I told you I got you, man. It’s me and you.”

  Bishop scrubbed his hand over the short hairs on his head. This was fucked up. He was so fortunate to have Mike at his side, and he knew he had Trent as well, but he couldn’t deny that going back to school was scary as fuck, and he’d been a gang member for most of his life. “All right, man.” Bishop sighed. “Sign me up.”

  “You got it.” Mike beamed and started pecking the keys one at a time.

  Bishop checked his watch. It was already a little after six and he’d been hoping to get in a couple of hours on Edison’s yard before dinner.

  “Almost done. Just have to pay.” Mike clicked on the pad a couple of times then blinked rapidly at the screen. “Shit. It’s seventy-five bucks.”

  “Shit,” Bishop mimicked, pulling out his wallet and handing Mike his debit card.

  “No worries. You make enough money to pay it, Bishop. And even still. This big job you got at Edison’s should cover this course and the rest of them as well.” Mike wasn’t looking at him, which was why he couldn’t see Bishop’s guilty expression. “By the way, I meant to ask if Trent helped you with the contract. I hadn’t heard anything else.”

  “No, um. Trent didn’t.”

  His dad clapped once. “Okay. All set. Your classes start at the end of the month, man. I’ll read all the small print later about the virtual classroom and we’ll do some practicing on the computer next week. Some tutorials.”

  “What?” Bishop barked. He knew he was being an irritable dick, but he hated when people used words he didn’t know.

  “Some step-by-step instructions on computer basics.” Mike closed the laptop and handed Bishop his card. “Now, who’d you say did the contract?”

  Bishop avoided his father’s eyes and went in the kitchen to refill his thermos with cold water. “I didn’t say anyone.” Bishop swallowed, ready for the storm to surge. “I don’t have a contract with Edison. I won’t take his money.”

  “Bishop.” His dad slowly advanced on him, but Bishop didn’t back down. Mike narrowed his mocha-brown eyes the closer he got and his voice had gone eerily deeper than it’d been a moment ago. “Tell me you’re not doing that fucking design you showed me… for free. Tell me you’re not doing that, Bishop.”

  Bishop held his ground and stared back at his dad. “I can’t because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m doing Eddie’s yard for free.”

  “Oh, he’s Eddie, now?” his dad mocked.

  “He’s Eddie to me,” Bishop bit back.

  “And how exactly did a man of his means—I’ve seen the damn suits he wears—convince you to do hundreds of hours’ worth of free labor, huh? Is his ass that goddamn good?” Mike snapped.

  Bishop lurched forward and gripped the collar of Mike’s nice dress shirt. His dad clutched his wrist, his eyes blowing wide as Bishop pulled him close. “Watch it. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Get your damn hands off me, Bishop,” his dad fired back. “You’re wrinkling my fucking shirt.”

  His dad shoved him in his chest when Bi
shop released him. “Annoying little twerp,” he grumbled, righting his clothes. It wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads, but it never got out of control. He didn’t want to hurt Mike and his dad would never hurt him. They were so evenly matched, it would have been stupid for them to really come to blows. He leaned on the counter, slowing his breathing while Mike fixed his collar in the mirror in the living room. “I hope this guy is worth it, Bishop. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t like the idea of anyone taking advantage of you.”

  “I know it might seem that way from your point of view, but trust me, it’s not. You just don’t know him. He wouldn’t do that. At all.” Bishop shoved his card back into his wallet and grabbed his keys off the counter.

  “Then maybe I should meet him.” Mike stood at the door waiting on him. “If you’re getting serious.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?” Bishop frowned.

  “No. I wanna know his intentions.” Mike couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore.

  Bishop shoved him out of the door. “Funny. Get the hell out so I can lock the door.”

  “No, really.” Mike stopped at his old Tacoma pickup as Bishop kept walking towards the work truck to unhitch the trailer. “I’d like to meet him.”

  “I’ll see,” Bishop answered. “We’re not quite there yet.”

  “Then what’s with the bag?” His dad pointed at the small duffle on his shoulder.

  “He asked if I wanted to stay for dinner, so I’m bringing a change of clothes.”

  “Meaning you’re showering there?”

  Bishop glanced up in annoyance, “It’s just a wash-up in a damn guest bathroom, Mike, damn.”

  Mike raised his hands. “Don’t be late for work in the morning.”

  Bishop rolled his eyes and climbed into the driver’s seat. If Mike only knew. Bishop wished like hell he could stay all night in Edison’s bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Edison

  Edison heard Bishop’s truck engine over Michael Bublé’s version of Summer Winds he had playing pretty loud on his sound system. He quickly wiped his hands on his apron and used the remote to turn down his CD. He’d had enough time to shower and change into something more fitting for the evening after work. He’d used his best aftershave and was wearing his softest gray T-shirt. Edison slung the dish towel over his shoulder and went to open the front door. Bishop had tools in both hands so he couldn’t wave, but Edison was happy to accept the delicious leer he gave him as an alternative.

  “Let me put these in the back,” Bishop said, heading towards the side gate.

  Edison could already feel his accelerated heart rate at the knowledge that Bishop was back on his property. He hoped he remembered about the dinner raincheck, because he was cashing in on that tonight. He and Bishop had cleared up a lot during their talks on the telephone. And, now that he knew that Bishop wanted him just as badly as before, if not more, he was feeling encouraged.

  He walked through his home, doing one final inspection before he spread the patio doors open. Bishop dropped his small hand tools near the porch and walked inside. He stepped back to allow him through his door when he was gripped around his waist and pulled flush against Bishop’s chest.

  “C’mere, Eddie. I’ve wanted to do this since this morning.” Bishop leaned in and slanted his mouth over Edison’s, his tongue seeking entry.

  Oh yes. Edison opened willingly, letting Bishop lead. He felt his waist hugged tighter as he wrapped his arms around Bishop’s neck, making him have to tilt his head even farther. They eventually had to come up for air, and Bishop buried his nose beneath his jaw and inhaled deeply.

  “You always smell so damn good,” Bishop groaned, nipping at his cheek.

  Edison could feel Bishop’s hardness against his thigh and his ass clenched in anticipation. He wondered if he could take a man as big as Bishop. He ran his hands over Bishop’s broad shoulders and down his chest. He couldn’t go any farther because of the coveralls, so he kept massaging on those firm pecs.

  Bishop dropped his head back and moaned, “Your hands.”

  Edison leaned in and kissed Bishop’s tanned throat, continuing his modest touches which were becoming more confident with every sigh of approval Bishop made. He hadn’t realized they were moving until his back hit the glass door and Bishop was pressed against him. Edison moaned next when Bishop’s thick hands snaked up his body until they got to his throat. He stretched his neck wanting everything Bishop was doing and more. Blunt nails dug into his flesh just enough to make his eyes fall closed.

  Bishop growled and attacked Edison’s mouth with vigor, pushing his strong hips against his until Edison thought he’d come in his pants if Bishop didn’t stop soon. “Fuck. This is why I need to wait,” Bishop said against Edison’s hot skin. “I still can’t control myself.”

  Edison’s shook with want, he didn’t need Bishop to exhibit control. But it wasn’t just about him. Bishop said he’d made vows to himself before he’d come home, and he wanted to keep them. If Edison wanted to be respected about his life’s choices, then he needed to respect Bishop’s as well. He’d lived a life of celibacy for the last five years; Edison didn’t want to pressure him before he was ready to fulfill that vow.

  Edison turned his head and took a deep breath. Bishop’s lips ghosted over his pulse, which only made it speed up more.

  “You make me crazy,” Bishop whispered.

  Edison pressed his hands flat against Bishop’s chest. When he finally found his voice, it sounded husky as he said, “You’re right. We need to slow…” Edison breathed through the pleasure as Bishop nipped his earlobe. “S-slow down.”

  “Okay,” Bishop said, still holding on.

  “Are you hungry?” Edison asked.

  “Fuckin’ starved,” Bishop rumbled.

  Edison trembled and Bishop reacted by squeezing his back. “Damn, baby.”

  “Unnh,” Edison moaned. Bishop’s bad mouth turned him on just as much as his touch did.

  Bishop kissed him once more, then used his firm grip to hold Edison still while he pulled away. “I’m gonna do the weeds against the house while you…”

  “Cook,” Edison finished breathily. “I was gonna cook.”

  Bishop nodded as he kept putting some much-needed air between them. The room was sparking with their energy, and if Bishop hadn’t stopped when he did, then they would’ve ended up starting a fire that neither of them could extinguish. “What are you making?”

  Edison pried himself off the glass door when Bishop was at a safe distance. He went into his kitchen, eyeing Bishop playfully. “I’m not telling. You’ll see when I put it on your plate.”

  Bishop laughed, and Edison realized how much he liked the sound. It wasn’t loud or rambunctious. It was simply a rumbling of his deep tenor. Even Bishop seemed a bit startled by it as he watched Edison with curiosity before he flicked on the patio lights, and left through the door.

  ~

  Bishop

  Bishop had somehow let Edison Scala work his way into his soul, touching him in a place no one had before. He wasn’t used to laughing and teasing. It wasn’t even how he’d been raised. He’d been taught to be tough, street smart, and show no fears or weaknesses. Anytime he’d shown emotion it had been used against him or beat out of him. But Edison made him feel so special, cherished, made him feel as if he’d missed out on the important things in life, like smiling, eating well, and having healthy relationships. He may have never experienced such wholesome goodness before, but he could recognize it, and Edison had it in abundance. Bishop wanted to be deserving of it. Which meant he couldn’t make this a physical thing. He’d tried that way all his life and obviously it didn’t work because he’d been attracting the wrong kind of men.

  Bishop lost himself in the rhythm of his work. He’d pull some weeds, drop some granules into the soil, turn it over, then move a few feet down the row. He was almost to the end of the row when the scent of herbs and garlic made his stomach growl. He found himsel
f grinning again, his jaws feeling strange as he put away his few tools. He was at Edison’s back door with his duffle bag hooked on his shoulder as he stopped and watched him move around in his neat kitchen.

  Everything had its own place. While there were a couple pots steaming on the stovetop, there wasn’t a drop of sauce or smeared butter on any of the marble surfaces. Anytime he or Mike tried to cook, there was usually a disaster to clean up afterward. Edison had his back to him, as he mixed a light-colored dressing into a large salad bowl. Every now and then Edison would wipe his fingertips on the dark blue dishtowel resting on his shoulder like the professionals did. He had an amazing view of Edison’s plump ass when he bent over to check whatever was baking in the oven.

  “Smells good,” Bishop said when he’d looked his fill.

  Edison spun around, surprised to see Bishop standing there. “Hey. I was just about to come get you. Dinner’s ready.”

  “Smells like spaghetti.” Bishop smirked. “And garlic bread.”

  “Wrong and correct,” Edison teased. “I made stuffed shells with garlic bread. It’s my Aunt Carlotta’s recipe. I hope you like Italian. Probably would’ve been smarter to ask you that before I made it.”

  “I love Italian, but never had stuffed shells,” Bishop admitted. “But if you made it… I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  Edison started placing the dishes on the table. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall, if you’re ready to get cleaned up. There’s towels and washcloths on the shelves to the right of the sink.”

  “Thanks.” Bishop was already moving in that direction. It was dark out, which meant he didn’t have long to enjoy Edison’s company before he needed to leave. They both had jobs to get to in the morning.