Bishop

by A. E. Via

  “I know,” Bishop grumbled. He felt like an ass. “You’ve always been there, Mike.”

  “Yeah, but I been there as Mike.” His dad slammed the laptop lid down and ran his hand over his head the exact way Bishop just had. “You didn’t need a goddamn homie when you were growing up, B. You needed a father. An adult that should’ve made sure you went to school every day, and that you were getting your lessons and doing your homework. Not messing around in the streets.”

  Bishop shook his head. “We’re not going there again. It wasn’t your fault I was a fuck-up.”

  “You fucked up because that’s the example you had.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I didn’t even try to find you a good mother. I just screwed around. I watched you go in and out of juvenile detention. And instead of being pissed for losing my little homie for a while, I should’ve been trying to make a way to keep you from constantly going back.”

  “Dad,” Bishop whispered. “You did your best as a fucking teenager, okay. I could’ve ended up in a dumpster or traded for drugs. But you kept me around.”

  “Well, shit.” Mike barked a pained laugh. “That’s the standard I’m compared to. Fuck, dude.”

  Bishop struggled to loosen his jaw. “Well, my father’s here now and I um… I could really use your help, man. This is a lot…” Bishop pointed at the closed laptop.

  His dad stood and gripped his shoulder. “It’s me and you, lil homie. We got this.”

  “Where are you going? Don’t we need to finish?” Bishop asked.

  “First thing it said we have to do is go down there and register for the testing and pay the fee. That can’t be done online.” Mike shoved his boots on and grabbed his keys. “We’ll stop at the Adult Learning Center on the way to the job site and knock that out. Text Manny and tell him we’ll be a couple hours late.”

  Bishop wanted to grab his dad and hug him, but he just followed him out the door, his chest feeling lighter than it had in months. He finally had some sort of plan, and also some much-needed help. It’d been difficult to ask for, but he was glad he had. Wood used to tell him that a good man offered his help, but it took a wise man to know when to ask for it.

  ~

  Bishop was glad there wasn’t a line or a big, open waiting area. He and Mike walked straight up to the information desk where three women sat talking and drinking coffee.

  One with a wide smile and bright blue eyes looked up to acknowledge them. Her eyes bounced back and forth between them, her smile getting impossibly wider. “Good morning. How can I help you?” Her tone was professional.

  “Yes, my son wants to sign up to take the evaluation testing for the GED prep courses.” Mike’s deep voice got the attention of the other two women behind the long, waist-high desk.

  “Your son?” The black woman, with a bun drawn so tight on top of her head it pulled at the corners of her eyes kept staring. “Get outta here. You look like brothers.”

  “Twins.” The other one giggled.

  “No, ladies.” His father immediately turned on the charm like he used to do when Bishop was a kid and they were trying to secure a place to stay for the night. Mike loved women, that was no secret, but he had a steady lady now. However, he didn’t mind flirting to see if he still had it. Bishop turned his head to hide his frown. “Nope. Not brothers. This is my boy. He’s lucky I decided to share these good genes with him.”

  “He sure is.” Blue eyes batted her long blonde lashes.

  Mike leaned on the desk, his thick biceps bulging as he braced himself against the low surface. “Now that’s not fair. Why would this learning center put three pretty ladies right here in the front? Don’t they know how distracting you all are? I had some questions about the testing, but I forgot what they were.”

  Kill me. Bishop wasn’t in the mood for much more of this crap. It wasn’t as if Mike was going to charm these women into giving him a cheat sheet, or better yet take the damn thing for him. “Dad,” Bishop murmured. Giving him a stern look that he was sure he could interpret. Move-it-the-fuck-along.

  The women soaked up the attention, but finally the black woman broke free from his dad’s trance and started clacking away on the keyboard. “We have testing Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. So, you’re here at the perfect time. I can sign you in. It’s not crowded back there, we only have two other people for evaluation testing.”

  Shit. Test right now? Bishop didn’t think he’d have to actually do anything today. Fuck. He thought they’d give him a bunch of pamphlets and paperwork to complete first.

  “That sounds great. Thank you, girls,” Mike said, taking the clipboard of forms and grabbing a pen from the holder. “about how long does it take?”

  Bishop was shitting bricks, and nobody was the wiser. His head pounded, and his jaw was clenched so tight it made his ears hurt.

  Blue eyes shrugged, “Not long, about a half hour to forty-five minutes. There are fifteen questions each at various grade levels for each of the five GED sections. Math, Science, Social Studies, Language Arts sections, writing and reading. There’s no certain grade you need to make in order to enroll. We take all levels.”

  “Now, is the testing on computers?” Mike asked.

  Bishop tensed.

  “Yes. But you have the option of paper. We have a lot of students who aren’t comfortable testing on computers. Do you want me to indicate paper test?”

  “Sure do.” Mike winked.

  Bishop squirmed at the beads of sweat rolling down his spine. Shit, that sounded like a lot at once. How was he going to even… Bishop wanted to scream that he wasn’t ready, that he couldn’t do it, but he kept his lips firmly together while he followed Mike to a set of chairs in the lobby. And without thought, the same as Trent did, his dad began filling out the forms for him.

  “I know you weren’t expecting to test today, but maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s best to just get it out the way,” Mike said while scribbling information. “Knock it out.”

  “Maybe. I think we should come back some other time,” Bishop said, glancing around. Anywhere but at his father. “I’m gonna do the test. But won’t we be too late for work if I take it now? I can do it on… on another day.”

  Mike glared at him for long moment. “Nope,” he said and kept writing.

  Dammit. “Dad,” Bishop murmured, feeling as if his chest was caving in. The pressure was crushing and the truth he was facing was terrifying.

  “Just do your best, Bishop. Like that chick said. There are no good or bad grades. Think of it as testing yourself.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Bishop rubbed his hands together and his right knee bounced nonstop until a young guy with ripped skinny jeans and an Avengers T-shirt called his name.

  His dad held his fist out, and Bishop was mortified when he tapped a shaky fist to his father’s. Mike’s dark eyes shone with concern as he gave him a quick nod. He was telling Bishop that he was gonna be fine but that was the complete opposite of what he was feeling. He put one foot in front of the other, his construction boots feeling as heavy as boulders. Every step felt as if he was going to face plant into the shiny linoleum.

  “Right this way,” the young guy said. “Second door to the right. Make sure your cell phone is silenced and there are no other electronic devices of any kind allowed to be used during testing.”

  Bishop went inside the room that was set up just like a classroom, with three rows of tables with computers in front of each chair and a bare table that Bishop assumed was for the paper test takers. There was even a dry erase board and desk at the front. The kid sat and pointed at the far table. “Your test is at your seat, Mr. Stockley.”

  Ugh. It was bad enough that the only other two people in there appeared to be no older than twenty-five, but did he have to be treated like the elder? The other testers were sitting at computers at opposite ends of the table and both watched him curiously until he settled into his seat. He was the outcast, once again he stood out. Whenever he had show
n up for class in high school, the other kids had always known that Bishop had special needs.

  The guy began to rattle off a few more details about the rules of testing and what to do when they were finished, but Bishop couldn’t hear as the ringing in his ears got louder. When everything suddenly went quiet he heard the faint clicks of the other test-takers’ computers, he figured he was supposed to start. He tore open the tab, ignoring the paragraph on the first page, and flipped to the second one.

  The first section was math. The question was so basic, a simple addition problem, that Bishop almost laughed. He quickly answered it and moved to number two, feeling the rigidness in his spine loosen. This wasn’t so bad. The math on the first page progressed gradually, but Bishop felt confident in his subtraction and multiplication answers. It was the third page that almost made him break his pencil as he balled his fist on top of the table. Fucking word problems. He went through each line catching a few words but not enough to know if he should divide those numbers or multiply them. Fuck. This could be an answer he might could get right if he just… goddammit.

  Bishop moved to the next one. Same thing. The problem after that was twice as long. The next page was math problems he’d never seen before. They had numbers and shapes and shit in them. Bishop’s knee began to bounce. He left those answers blank—meaning wrong—and when he turned the page again, he was at the science section which looked to be a ton of lengthy sentences and paragraphs he was supposed to read and circle one of the four answers beneath it.

  After sitting there flipping pages for too long, Bishop quietly got the kid’s attention. He frowned but got up from his desk and came over.

  “Yeah?”

  Bishop tried to keep his voice as quiet as he could, but he could feel eyes on him. “I need… I um… wanted to know if it’s possible to have some of the questions read?”

  The kid gave him an incredulous expression that made Bishop want to melt into the wall behind him and disappear. “No sir. I can’t read the questions to you. I can’t provide you any assistance on the testing.” The guy could’ve at least tried to whisper back to him.

  Bishop could feel his face scorching. He scrubbed his hand over his beard. He lowered his voice even more. “I don’t need you to read it. I have a friend out there—he can just read the question only and then—”

  The guy scoffed. “No. That wouldn’t be fair. You don’t have to worry about getting each question correct, sir. These tests are for evaluation purposes only. If you don’t know the answer just shade in the last answer that says ‘I don’t know’ and go to the next question.” The guy didn’t give Bishop a chance to make another request before he turned and walked away.

  The other two people hurried to avert their eyes back to their monitors when Bishop glanced in their direction. He was so close to taking that thin test booklet and shoving it into the trashcan on his way out of the door, but he wouldn’t be able to face Mike once he got outside. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his business meeting with Edison tonight if he just quit. He wasn’t a quitter and he didn’t want to be seen as a coward or a failure. He had to try. Because Bishop had a feeling if he gave up now and let this thing, this illiteracy, defeat him, then he might take another six months before he came back a second time.

  Bishop swallowed down his nerves and went through each question, picking and dissecting words the best he could, but it was a lot and the words only got bigger. He answered I don’t know on far more than he’d answered knowingly. The social studies section had maps and graph questions, so he believed he may’ve gotten a few of those right. When Bishop finally reached the end, he thought his head was going to explode. His neck was stiff, and his fingers were sore from clutching the pencil so hard. He stood to take his test to the front when he noticed the other two testers had already gone. He hadn’t even heard them leave.

  Bishop handed the guy his test and tried to high-tail it out of there, but the kid stopped him. “Hey hold on. I need to give you some information so you can check your scores. They’ll be uploaded in forty-eight hours. Once they’re in the system then you can enroll in classes, and it’ll only let you register for ones that you qualify for. So, it’ll recommend any prerequisite classes, or prep course you might need first.”

  Bishop was glad the guy wasn’t going to grade his shit right in front of him. He’d always hated that. Yeah, he didn’t want to know how dumb he was until he was home and preferably near a case of beer. Bishop tucked his Adult Learning Center Welcome folder under his arm and met his dad in the lobby. Mike gave him big smile when he came out, and hard slap on the back. It felt good, he had to admit. Good, that that was fucking over. He knew there was a lot more to do, and that the real hard part was yet to come. But he’d jumped his first hurdle.

  “Come on, let’s get to the job site,” Mike said.

  They walked out into the heat, across the blazing parking lot, and got into the truck in silence. He was glad his dad didn’t ask him how he did. He didn’t want to discuss how it felt to admit how much he didn’t know.

  “Man, if it wasn’t Friday, B, I’d say let’s play hooky and go fishing or bowling or something. I’m proud of what you just did and I wanna… I don’t know… do something for you.”

  Bishop turned from where he’d been staring out of the window as Mike drove down Virginia Beach Boulevard towards Town Center. “That’s not necessary. You went with me… that’s… that’s what I needed. I don’t need to go bowl right now. I wanna go to work and make sure no one’s screwed up my vincas. They were only supposed to go around the bushes on the right side.”

  Mike laughed. “We got more coming in today, too.”

  “I know.”

  “All right, let’s get at it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Edison

  “You got any plans this weekend, Edison?” Mila asked, turning off the lights around her desk.

  “Nothing really.” Edison kept his head down while he packed his messenger bag, not wanting her to see him blush when he thought of Bishop coming over his house again. Last time had been... well, enlightening, to say the least. “Yard work.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “You were adamant about leaving on time today, I thought maybe you had a hot date with a bad boy.”

  “Ha!” he yelled, because he didn’t know what else to say. A certain bad boy was all he’d been able to think of this past week. The ex-convict he’d invited into his home. He’d thought Bishop only looked the part. Rough around the edges, growly and intimidating because he was misunderstood. No. It wasn’t an act. Bishop was a real bad boy. One who had caressed his cheek when he was feeling like crap in a dark parking lot. One who constantly checked out his body as if he was a rump roast with all the trimmings. One who acted as if he enjoyed, and wanted to be in Edison’s company.

  “You don’t have to sound so shocked. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have some fun, Edison. I swear you’re twenty-six going on sixty-six. Those books and flea markets can’t keep you warm, darling.” She waved on her way towards the lobby. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Bright and early,” was his usual reply. Edison could feel the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. He’d been waiting for Friday forever, and it had nothing to do with the new book he’d just downloaded at lunch. He stalled around the empty office for a bit, making sure most of the support staff was gone. Edison glanced out of his window and saw that the ground crew had cleaned up for the day and were loading their equipment back onto the trailers. Edison hoped he’d run into Bishop so he could ask him how he wanted to do this evening.

  In the elevator, he toyed with the button on his suit jacket, deciding to leave it open. He smoothed his hand over his sky-blue tie and took a deep breath. He could do this. He was an adult and so was Bishop, and he was going to make his intentions known. The moment he opened one of the doors, Bishop was standing at the bottom of the steps with Trent. Edison forgot what he was going to say as he took in Bishop�
��s strong form. He was dirty and sweaty from working in ninety degree heat all day, but damn if he didn’t look good enough to pounce on. He glanced up at Edison with those dark eyes, and his knees went weak at the smile that curved one side of Bishop’s wide mouth. The slightest of smiles but it was there. He played it cool as he walked down the steps, grateful he didn’t stumble, and stopped in front of them. “Good evening.”

  “Evening,” Bishop said, barely opening his mouth, those piercing eyes roaming freely over Edison’s face.

  “Pleasure to see you again,” Trent said with humor teasing his tone. “How was your day?”

  Edison laughed when Bishop huffed in annoyance. Bishop’s friend was funny. He was shorter than Bishop, but he was muscular, and just as stocky. He had his hair cut close and had the same tanned, sun-warmed skin. He had brown eyes and full pink lips, a good-looking guy, but when coupled with his fun personality, he was quite attractive. Edison found himself getting sucked in, and laughed as Trent reached out to shake his hand.

  He grasped Trent’s thick palm and shook it firmly, “It’s nice to see you too, Trent. And my day was good… really good. How about yourself?”

  “B, this guy is unreal.” Trent grinned, then released Edison’s hand. “With crazy soft hands, too.”

  “Bye, Trent,” Bishop growled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Edison’s dick jerked at the timbre of Bishop’s voice and the authority in his tone. He bit his bottom lip as he tried to inch his bag forward without either of them noticing. However, he didn’t think he’d fooled Bishop.

  “Yeah, peace. See ya, Eddie.” Trent left without another word.

  “Goodbye.” Edison waved. He glanced back up at Bishop and saw his eyes were smoldering. Edison didn’t know how he was going to do this. He was out of his element and far out of his league. He wasn’t a dater or a social butterfly. He’d been an introvert all his life. As an adolescent he’d grown up listening to the ramblings and old-timing ways of seventy-year-old men instead of hanging out at the oceanfront, or at Dave & Buster’s with his peers. Now, here he was at twenty-six with less sexual experience than a sixteen-year-old.