by A. E. Via
Chapter Fourteen
Bishop
Bishop couldn’t pry his eyes away from Edison’s scrumptious backside as he walked into his place of business. Damn. Edison looked fine as fuck in that tan suit. It made the light brown in his eyes shine brighter than the gold.
“I know that look, B. Don’t do it, man,” Trent said, shaking his head adamantly.
“Did you see how he looked at me?”
“We all saw it. And the way he damn near ran over to help when you came up.”
“Here.” Bishop took the card out of his pocket and handed it to Trent, still staring where Edison had disappeared.
“It says Edison Scala, BACJ. I have no clue what those initials mean. Executive Office Manager and Paralegal to Presley Alfred, Esquire. Alfred, Dolan, Maroko & Bickel, PC. His email address, office, and cell number are on here.”
“That’s a lot to fit on one card,” Bishop mumbled. “Executive, huh?”
“Yep. Looks like he’s the boss, too. Did you see how he checked that other guy and sent him running.” Trent chuckled and started in on his teasing like Bishop knew he would. “You like his fancy pants, don’t you?”
“Nah.” Bishop snatched the card from between Trent’s fingers, “He thinks I’m somebody that I’m not.”
“Which is?” Trent started pressing the throttle on his weed whacker, ready to get back to work.
“He thinks I’m the boss.”
“You are.” Trent frowned.
“No.” Bishop turned on his friend. “I’m not and I won’t pretend to be. I’m an employee, a crew supervisor.”
Trent shoved him hard in his shoulder. “Look around you, jackass. All of this is because of you. Yeah, it’s great that Manny can put together a few sheets of paper and call it a bid,” Trent stepped closer but didn’t bother lowering his voice. “But it would’ve been the equivalent of toilet paper without your goddamn design in there. So, don’t tell me you’re not the boss. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before Mike changes the company name to Stockley and Son.”
Bishop stood there with one hand scratching his forehead and the other he wanted to use to slam over Trent’s mouth. “Not likely.”
“Damn, B. You get on my fucking nerves sometimes. It’s like you can’t even take a compliment now without doubting it and shit. You know damn well that this is all because of you.” Trent gestured at the work being done to implement his unique design. “If it wasn’t for your sketches… your fucking brains, B, then we’d still be doing gas stations and apartment complexes in Chesapeake.” Trent shoved him again. “Now move. I gotta get back to work or my supervisor is going to bitch.”
“I don’t bitch,” Bishop grumbled, but Trent didn’t hear him as he pressed his earbuds back inside his ears and started the weed eater.
Bishop returned to where his dad and Manny were leaning over the truck’s hood going over some paperwork. Though the Town Center contract was their primary concern, they still had men working on their other properties. Okay, Trent might be a little bit right. Business had quadrupled since he and Trent joined the crew not even a year ago—seven months. He may have had a little something to do with that. As he got closer, he couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like if he started his own portfolio. Most landscapers had a side hustle going. Even Manny did designer driveways on the weekends. He had a feeling Mike wouldn’t mind if he asked to use one of their trucks in the evenings. And he knew just what side job he wanted to start with.
“Hey… um, dad,” Bishop said.
Mike turned around with a grin. “Hey, B. You handled that real fast over there. Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“You better tell Trent to cool it. We’re not losing this contract. Period,” Mike said sternly. And Bishop knew he was serious. Meaning it’d be hard as hell if Bishop had to take Trent off this property.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Yeah, see that you do.” Mike and Manny turned back to their papers.
“Hey. I wanted to ask if I can borrow one of the trucks to maybe start a side job, soon. Real soon.”
That got his dad’s attention, his dark brows rising high on his creased forehead. He examined him for a long time before cocking his head in the direction of the building. “You don’t mix business with pleasure, son.”
Dammit. Bishop sometimes forgot why he was so good at reading people and between the lines, it was because Mike had taught him how. “I’m not mixing pleasure—”
“I thought you vowed to yourself not to lie.”
Bishop narrowed his eyes and kept his tone in check. “I’m not lying. And, I’m not going to mix them. He has a property that needs maintenance. Why should I turn it down? That’s money.”
“You sure this is about money? I saw what happened over there. Y’all looked…”
“Smitten.” Manny smirked.
Bishop flipped them both off. “Can I use the truck or what? I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, okay.” His dad and Manny both brought their laughs down. “I just want you to be careful. Besides, do you really wanna work all day and then do an evening job? How are we gonna get some fishing in? We got rained out this weekend, we need a makeup day”
“A lot of people work double shifts when they’re trying to get ahead. You know I got things on my plate. And also, depending on what he wants done, the evenings will only be long enough to complete it, then the upkeep won’t be that much. So there’s still fishing time, all right.”
“All right. I’ll trust you to make that judgment call,” Mike finally relented. “And use whatever equipment you need, just make sure they’re locked up after.”
Bishop nodded.
“And I’ll call Will over at Wholesale Gardens to let him know you can charge whatever you need to the account,” Manny added.
Damn, had Trent been right? He now had unlimited access to all the equipment he could possibly need and an open line of credit at one of the best nurseries in Hampton Roads. No one else on the crew was allowed that. If they had personal jobs then they used their personal equipment. Bishop took a deep breath. Now all he had to do was remain professional with Edison. He only wanted to help him, the same as he’d just done for him.
~
Edison
He’d been singing Pharrell’s song, Happy, in his head all day because literally that’s how he’d felt. The afternoon had gone smoothly, and everyone was up to task after his staff meeting. Then to top everything off, Skylar had avoided him most of the day. Not once did he pop his head in his door and make an annoying request, nor did he walk around trying to entertain the office. And even though he was taking home more work to complete, he didn’t care, it wasn’t even six o’clock and he was headed home. The weather was beautiful outside, the sun slowly easing behind the tall buildings as evening approached.
He’d just unlocked his car door when he heard his name called.
“Edison.”
Edison spun around, surprised but happy to see Bishop leaning against one of the trees bordering the parking lot. Was… was he waiting for me? “Hey, Bishop. How are you?” He didn’t know what else to say, having been caught off guard.
“Good.” Bishop strode towards him. Damn, his legs were long. He’d lost the coveralls, hat and bandana, now he wore jeans, and his company T-shirt. Bishop stood firm and erect, but Edison could see his fatigue from having worked out in the heat all day. Bishop stopped at the end of his car. “You always knock off around this time?”
“No. Yes. Well, sometimes. I can always choose to take work home, which is what I’m doing tonight.” Edison shut his mouth. Nice. Show him how social you are.
“I was wondering if you’d called Shane already?”
Edison tried to recall the name. He was sure he was looking confused when Bishop added. “The other crew I said you could call about your yard.”
“Oh,” Edison blurted a bit too loudly, then lowered his voice. He didn’t want to think of the company Bishop h
ad pawned him off on. He ducked his head and pulled at his tie. “Not yet. I’ve been busy today.”
“Well, if you want, I can take a look at it. I thought I wouldn’t have time to get to any additional properties with this new contract.” Bishop motioned at the building’s lawn which was still a long way from being completed. “But, I can at least see what you have going on.”
Edison knew his smile was larger than ever because he could feel it stretching his face, but he couldn’t stop it. Bishop quirked one side of his mouth up and glanced away, squeezing the back of his neck. He was acting… nervous.
“You definitely wanna let B check out your shit. He’s the best!”
Edison chuckled as Bishop’s lively coworker—the same one who’d told Skylar he had undescended testicles this morning—came over and stood boldly beside his friend. Edison hadn’t even noticed him approaching, he’d been so focused on the man in front of him. The guy slapped Bishop so hard in the center of his back that Edison wondered how it didn’t hurt.
“Really? One of the best, huh?” Edison glanced up at Bishop.
“Hell, yeah. All this right here is his doing.” Trent moved around Bishop, pointed at the freshly mowed and trimmed landscape. “And up there, see how we’re curving the flower bed towards the stairs.”
Edison nodded, looking at where he was gesturing. There was still mounds of dirt all over the place, but Edison could see what they were trying to do. Either way, it was going to look a lot better than what they’d had. “I think that’s going to look amazing.”
“It will! I’ve seen the final design. Bishop’s the one who made it.” The guy held his big hand out, palm up, “I’m Trent, by the way. I’m Bishop’s brother by another mother that didn’t want a damn thing to do with neither of us.”
“Oh.” Edison laughed slightly before it tapered off. What Trent said was both kind of funny and kind of sad, if true.
“I asked you to wait in the truck.” Bishop’s voice was raspy as he glared at his friend, who was still working overtime to boost him up. If he only knew. Edison didn’t need selling on Bishop. He’d made up his mind that if he had room to squeeze him into his schedule, he’d jump on it. He just wanted to be around Bishop and soak up more of his attention.
Trent used a towel hanging in his back pocket to wipe his forehead. “You forgot to leave the keys. It’s hot in that damn truck.”
“Then wait on the outside.”
“Just give me the damn keys.”
“Here,” Bishop growled.
Edison laughed a bit louder. They really did behave like actual brothers. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Trent.”
The man stopped short and turned to face Edison with a perplexed expression. He wondered if he’d said something wrong. “Wow. I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before. Did you hear that, B? He said it was a pleasure to meet me.”
Bishop looked as if he wanted to choke his friend. Instead, he gripped Trent behind his neck, which must’ve been rather hard because he grimaced and ducked, trying to get away from the hold as Bishop shoved him towards their white F150 a few spaces down. Bishop’s tone said the conversation was over. “I heard him. Can you wait in the truck, please, Trent?”
“Sure. Okay. Easy, man.” Trent got away from Bishop and walked over to their truck and got it started.
“I just need to drop him off at home and then I can come by if you’re not busy tonight,” Bishop said.
“No. Not busy at all. I’m not busy most nights.” Edison shouldn’t have added in that last bit, but oh well, it was out now.
Bishop stepped closer, close enough for Edison to smell his sweat. He made sure not to roll his eyes behind his lids as the thought of bathing in Bishop’s sweat crossed his mind. Edison locked his knees so they didn’t shake.
“If you give me your address I can stop by. I won’t take up much of your time,” Bishop said, his voice going deeper and deeper. Edison’s pants got tighter and tighter as he tried to discreetly position his messenger bag in front of him.
“Sure,” he said, trying to sound calm, although he was pulsing with excitement. Bishop was coming to his house. “I’ll be there waiting. Whenever you get ready.” Shut up, you’re sounding desperate. Edison fished into his inside pocket for his silver and black pen then used it to scribble his address on the back of another business card. After he tucked his pen away he handed the card to Bishop, noticing how hard he was staring at him. God, why did he watch him like he did, as if Edison was everything? Those dark eyes continued to roam his face brazenly, and while Edison continued to fall deeper into their abyss, Bishop’s fingers brushed against his during the exchange. That sharp gaze flew to Edison’s mouth at his quick exhale. The contact was too brief to analyze, but the slight feel of those calloused fingers touching his skin made Edison’s dick throb so hard that he panicked.
“Um, okay then. I’ll see you there.” Edison yanked his car door open while he fumbled awkwardly to keep his bag in front of him. He dropped into his seat and hurried to say goodbye before he closed the door. “Just call me if you get lost.”
Bishop was still standing there with a confused, but quite entertained look on his face. When Edison was around the corner, he groaned so loud it made him cough. He yanked his tie away from cutting off his air supply and undid his top two buttons. Real smooth, Edison. Shoot! He was driving home with wood so hard he could’ve been a lumberjack.
Chapter Fifteen
Bishop
“Just give me a shirt,” Bishop grumbled, holding the small bath towel tight around his waist while he tore through Trent’s dresser. It looked similar to his. Very few pieces to choose from.
“You’re gonna look like a big guy in a little shirt,” Trent chuckled, barely sparing him a glance away from his video game.
Bishop had used Trent’s shower, not wanting to go to Edison’s smelling like a dead skunk. “You got any 2X white tees?”
Trent cut his eyes to him for a second. “No, B. Since I wear a large.”
“Fine. This’ll have to work,” Bishop said, putting on the large, sleeveless, dark gray shirt. It was tight around his chest, but it was better than dirty. He was glad he always kept a pair of clean basketball shorts in his book bag. “Where’s your underwear?”
“Oh hell, no. I draw the line there, Bishop.” Trent paused his video game. “You can’t ask to borrow another man’s drawers. That’s just… just no, dude.”
“Shut up.” Bishop kept searching. True, it wasn’t something he wanted to do but he couldn’t free-ball it in nylon shorts. His cock would be everywhere. “As long as they’re clean.”
Trent still didn’t give in. But Bishop found the small stash of boxer briefs. “You’re just mad because you know your little-ass shorts can’t hold all my junk.”
“Fuck you,” Trent said and went back to his game. There was nothing he could do since Bishop was already yanking them over his still wet ass. “It’s not like I’m gonna take ’em off and hand them right back to you. I’ll wash them.”
“That’s all right, B.” Trent waved him off. “How about you just keep those.”
Bishop laughed and went about balling up his dirty clothes and shoving them into his backpack. Trent was watching him closely. “What are you staring at?”
“You, man. Look at you. You’re all jumpy and shit, like you’re going on a first date. You just laughed loud too,” Trent pointed out.
“I did not.” Bishop didn’t like the way his friend was staring at him. He did have a dual purpose for going to Edison’s house. He wanted to see his yard to help him, but he also just wanted to see him. His dad had said not to mix business and pleasure, but Bishop was positive that he could keep them separate.
“You did. What is it about this guy?” Trent asked.
“I’m going to see about a side job, Trent,” Bishop said unconvincingly.
“You don’t need to shower and change for that.”
“He’s a potential new customer. Yes, I
did.”
“Are you lying to yourself, B?” Trent asked more seriously. “But on the real, why the fuck are you lying to me?”
Bishop didn’t answer right way. Was he lying?
“You don’t know this guy and you already said that he’s got the wrong idea about you. Are you going to be honest with him? Because I know you, Bishop. You like this guy. Even gave him a compliment in front of everyone.”
“Why don’t you say what you’re really thinking. That an executive like Edison is out of my league?”
“What the hell?” Trent growled, jabbing him in his chest. “I was talking about telling him where you’ve been the last five years.”
“It’s all good,” was all he could think to say, turning to leave.
“Be careful, Bishop,” Trent said quietly as he let the door shut.
He’d followed the directions Trent had given him after he’d put Edison’s address into a GPS app. The entire ride, he beat himself over the head with how disastrous this could be. He was attracted to the guy. Edison was so different than what he had been used to. He lacked the attitude and sass that Royce had, and he damn sure didn’t have the roughness of the men he’d lived with in prison. Edison was just a kind-hearted, warm person and he wanted to continue to experience more of that. But there were just some things that would stay with him no matter how hard he tried to shake it—his criminal record. Trent was right. He had to be honest before he attempted any work on Edison’s private residence.
Bishop’s nerves began to eat at his stomach, making the leftover lasagna he’d scarfed down at Trent’s threaten to come back up. It was a good thing he’d only had twenty minutes to torture himself. Edison lived off of the Boulevard, a short distance from Town Center. Bishop took a deep breath when he’d reached his destination. Of course, Edison lived in a nice, single-family home in Thalia, a quiet neighborhood in Virginia Beach.
He pulled his late model F150 into the empty driveway. He assumed Edison parked his nice car in the garage. The house appeared to be well taken care of. The brick home had dark blue shutters, with a matching front door. The yard was just as Edison described. Ignored. And the lawn called to him, giving Bishop the push he needed to get out of the damn truck. He walked across the cut lawn to the empty flowerbed. There was a bricked-off area, as if someone had meant to plant something there but had changed their mind. He knelt and dug his hands into the dirt, letting the soil sift through his fingers. He stood when he heard the front door open.
