Bishop

by A. E. Via

  Bishop stepped closer. It was hard for him to think when Bishop took over his space and assaulted his senses. “You look nice.”

  Edison ran his hand over his tie, laughing lightly. He wasn’t sure he could get used to the compliments. “Thanks, Bishop.”

  “I have to help the guys unload the equipment then I’m gonna go home and shower all this dirt and shit off me.” Bishop looked down at his filthy khakis. “Then if you still wanted to, I have the finished sketches for your yard. We can go over those and see if you like them. But, I have to go home and change, I smell like what-the-fuck.”

  Edison’s heart did that flip and his balls clenched anytime Bishop used those swear words all willy-nilly. They just rolled right off his tongue as if it was nothing, and Edison found he liked that. Liked Bishop’s bad mouth. “Sure. Yes, I’ll be home. I definitely want to take a look. And I… I was thinking…” Edison trailed off, forgetting exactly how he’d rehearsed his next line. Danggone.

  With his eyes on his wing-tipped dress shoes, he saw Bishop move closer until his boots were almost touching his own toes. “If my hands weren’t so dirty, I’d touch your handsome face. Look at me, Edison.”

  Edison’s heart almost stopped, and all life seemed to slow down. He glanced around to see if anyone else was watching but they were alone. He’d have been so embarrassed if anyone witnessed Bishop reducing him to a puddle of goo on the sidewalk. The lawn crew was around the side parking lot, and most of the people who worked in the building clocked out of their offices at five o’clock on the dot, not five-oh-one. God, he didn’t care if Bishop’s hands were filthy or not, he wanted them on him. He almost said he didn’t mind, but he kept his lips together as he raised his head. He had a long way to go as his eyes traveled up Bishop’s body, inch-by-inch. His chest bulged and Edison could see the definition of his abs outlined through Bishop’s sweat-drenched T-shirt. His throat was thick and damp, his stubble was just the right amount to burn his cheeks. He didn’t meet Bishop’s eyes, instead his vision stalled on his lips.

  “You were saying,” Bishop prompted. His lips barely moved but his voice rang out clear and forceful.

  Edison tried to hold back his body’s reaction to Bishop’s closeness, to his gravelly voice, to his musky, grassy scent. He licked his lips, though they were already moist. He thought he heard Bishop moan, but his pulse was pounding so loud in his ears he could’ve been wrong. “I-I was gonna say… I could make us some food to eat while… ya know, while we look at your plans.” Edison exhaled then hurried to continue, “Like a business dinner, of course. I’m not big on eating out or discussing contracts in crowded places.”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  Edison could feel the heat of Bishop’s glare, yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to get lost in those eyes. Not right now. He adjusted his bag and his knees almost buckled when the sturdy material nudged his hard dick. He gulped and stared at Bishop’s mouth, waiting on him to mumble another few words, or to hum his approval again, “It’s up to you. I’m not making anything wonderful so if you wanna eat at home then—”

  “Dinner with you sounds like the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. Trust me.”

  Trust him? Edison was so flabbergasted by that reply that he couldn’t think what to say next. No one had ever spoken to him in that way. Ever. He’d built up the nerve to ask a couple of guys out in his life, but both of those had been embarrassing displays of his inexperience and had been quickly followed with rejections. The one guy he had dated for a while, well, he wasn’t going to even think of that catastrophe. Bishop was nothing like that jerk. Already, Edison loved the parts of Bishop he’d seen, and what he’d so boldly and bravely offered up.

  Yet Edison couldn’t shake the voice whispering in his head that Bishop had just been released from prison, and he’d probably take any sex he could get. But then the next second, Edison’s rational mind was assuring him that Bishop was one of the sexiest men he’d ever encountered, in so many exceptional ways. He could hit up any night club—and there were plenty in the seven cities of Hampton Roads—and leave with the hottest guy in there and enjoy him until the morning came if he desired. He didn’t have to waste his nights and weekends getting to know Edison.

  “That…” Edison nodded, not wanting to say anything silly. “Then okay.”

  Neither one of them said anything else, but neither of them moved until Trent yelled Bishop’s name from across the yard and told him they were ready. Trent didn’t wait for Bishop to acknowledge him as he left to go wait with the other men, which was good because Bishop never took his eyes off Edison. The man was so dang intense it made his skin prickle.

  He needed to go. It was getting harder to justify standing there breathing in the scent of Bishop’s hard day of work. “Whenever you get there is fine.”

  “I won’t be long.” Bishop started to back away, and Edison was finally able to inhale a bit easier and catch Bishop’s eyes when he said one last time, “I won’t be long at all, Edison.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Bishop

  Bishop was in Edison’s driveway again, second-guessing the decision he was making. He had Mike’s voice in his head since his dad had decided to add in his two cents about Bishop’s business dinner tonight before he left for his girlfriend’s house.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, lil homie. I saw you talking to him after work today and it didn’t look like the two of you were planning a business dinner. It looked like you were planning to meet at the Holiday Inn.”

  Bishop fastened the last button on the shirt he’d gotten out of Mike’s closet to go with the best jeans he had—which meant no grass stains. He’d showered an extra fifteen minutes and made sure to pay extra attention to his beard since it was obvious Edison was into that. Bishop had never seen a man pay such attention to his grooming.

  “I know what I’m doing. Did you see the sketches?” Bishop said confidently. He felt great and he didn’t know why his dad was trying to shit on his good mood. “He’ll love them.”

  “Yeah. It’s some of the best I’ve seen you do.”

  “All right then.” Bishop shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “So, what’s your deal?”

  “My deal is you fucking this executive, while you’re doing a job for him. It’s bad business, Bishop.”

  Bishop jerked his head back. Yes, he was ridiculously attracted to Edison and it was growing each day but he didn’t believe that would affect his ability to do the job and he wanted more than a fuck from him. “I’m not trying to fuck him. He’s…” Bishop growled and shoved past his father. He stormed into the dining room to gather his portfolio and the rest of his belongings. “He’s not like that.”

  “I know the look, B. I’ve seen it a lot myself.” Mike quirked one of his brows at him. “He wants more from you than just lawn service.”

  And Bishop wanted more from Edison.

  “Maybe you should either stop watching or look closer. He’s not Royce. Not even close.”

  “I know that… that’s the problem.”

  “I know what I’m doing.” Bishop paused at the door. “Did the center send my eval scores yet?”

  Mike scrubbed his beard. “Not yet. But, when they do, I’ll tell you. And we can get going.”

  His dad kept using the word ‘we’.

  Bishop grabbed his large portfolio and got out of the truck. He saw Edison peek through the sheer curtains before he opened the front door. He was barefoot and dressed casually again, this time in a worn green collared shirt and black athletic pants. When Bishop was on the top step, Edison smiled softly and held the door wide for him. He had to turn sideways for both of them to fit in the doorway, and when he did, it put their bodies only a couple of inches apart. Edison seemed to be holding his breath but Bishop sure wasn’t. Everything smelled amazing, including the man he was so close to pressing his entire frame against. Damn, he knew their attraction was building fast, but this was insane. He wanted to stoop and press his nose in
to Edison’s smooth jaw and inhale for hours—hours of just smelling him. Then the scent of seasoned meat and the sound of frying food made his stomach rumble.

  “Hey, handsome. Something smells good in here.” Besides you.

  Edison closed the door. He brushed past Bishop on his way inside, smiling up at him as he did. “Since it’s a Friday night, I made burgers. I almost put them on the grill out back, but I swore I saw something moving out there the second I opened the door. So, I cooked them on the stove.”

  Bishop couldn’t believe his eyes. Edison had two place settings at the dining table, nothing too fancy—there were no candles or dessert forks—but far nicer than anything he was used to. Two huge burgers topped with white cheese and a fried egg were on a serving dish. Bishop had never seen a burger like that before, but damn if his stomach didn’t growl furiously. Edison had made it look delicious. Then he had all the fixings a man would need to make the ultimate burger: tomatoes, onions, lettuce and pickles.

  “You can set your stuff down over there on the table if you want. Once I take the fries out, we can make our burgers and start eating. I’m starved.” Edison’s eyes widened before he hurried to say, “I had a light breakfast and lunch… so…”

  “Well I had a big-ass lunch, and I think I can still eat that whole burger, Eddie. It looks so good.”

  “Okay.” Edison smiled and started scooping the large wedge fries out of a deep pot of oil.

  The lights in the other parts of the house were dimmed but the dining area and kitchen were brightly lit, and Bishop found himself ready and eager to get started. Almost desperate to show Edison what he could do. How not stupid he was. Soft instrumental music played on Edison’s sound system, and he wondered if this was the kind of music he always listened to.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Edison said, watching him from the open kitchen. “What do you want to drink? That’s sweet tea on the table but I also have juice, sodas… or beer. I don’t really drink but I got some today in case…”

  “Tea is good,” Bishop said as he propped his large sketch pad along the back of the bench. He poured himself some of the cold tea into what he assumed was his designated glass and took a large gulp. It was really sweet and refreshing going down his parched throat.

  “Sweet enough for you?” Edison smiled in that shy, sexy way that Bishop liked.

  He hoped he gave him an expression that showed his satisfaction. Edison’s cheeks were slightly pinkish when he looked away.

  “It’s good,” Bishop said. He wanted to sit at the breakfast nook and watch Edison move around so freely in his kitchen. It was clear that’s where he felt the most at ease, so much so that he’d started to flirt.

  Edison turned down the lights in the kitchen and brought the heaping plate of hot fries to the table and set them next to the burgers. “I can’t wait to see what you designed, Bishop,” he said. “I already know it’s going to be amazing.”

  Bishop took his seat, watching in fascination as Edison put the burgers onto large buns and gestured to him to help himself. It was clear that he’d put a lot of work into their meal, and Bishop appreciated it more than Edison could possibly fathom. It’d been years since someone had cared for him in this way, praised him, encouraged him… fed him. This was supposed to be about business, and already he was nowhere near that vicinity. Was it insane that he wanted to reach over and cup Edison’s jaw and drag him to his mouth?

  When they were seated, they both dug in with gusto. Bishop piled lettuce, tomato, a little mayo and ketchup on his burger, opting to avoid the onions. After the first bite he took, the juice from the perfectly cooked beef ran down his chin, making Edison laugh as he swiped some of the runny yoke from the corner of his own lips. The fries were crispy and had some kind of hard salt on top that he’d never tasted before. Both of them were starving, because it wasn’t until they were halfway finished that Bishop came up for air to speak.

  “How’d you learn to cook like this? I’ve never heard of a man cooking this good.” Bishop leaned against the back of the bench cushion and patted his stomach, “I’m almost full and I still have half a burger left.”

  Edison bit his fry in half and chewed until his mouth was clear before he answered, “I’ve been cooking since I was like twelve years old. You really don’t know any men that like to cook?”

  Bishop frowned, shaking his head. “Not like this.”

  Edison wiped his mouth after each bite he took, and Bishop had to remind himself not to wipe his hands on his damn jeans. “If you watch any food shows on TV you’ll see that most of the cooks, the judges, and experts are mostly men.”

  Bishop nodded. “Did you take any cooking classes or something? This is some real gourmet stuff right here.”

  “No.” Edison hid his smile behind his napkin. “My pop had to often work long hours and when I was younger, I was always there at the shop with him. But when I was in middle school, I started staying home alone and that meant I had to feed myself. There was an elderly lady who lived a couple doors down—she’s passed now—but she’d come check in on me while my pop was at work, or I’d sit down there with her until her husband came home. I’d watch her make dinner for her family, fascinated with the smells and sweets she could make permeate the entire house. She was so kind and she used to say there was nothing wrong in a person’s life that a plate full of love couldn’t fix. Long story short. She started to teach me a few things and I expanded from there. I watched cooking shows, ordered a few cookbooks and the next thing I know, I was making dinner for me and pop. And he would go crazy bragging about it, too.” Edison laughed softly, “Which only made me want to learn more and cook better.”

  “It sounds like you and your dad are close,” Bishop said.

  Edison nodded. “We were. He died of a heart attack a couple years ago. He… he was my best friend. My only friend, really.”

  Bishop reached over and gently placed his hand over Edison’s and squeezed. He’d done it before he could second-guess it. It was difficult to see that kind of heartbreaking sadness on such a beautiful face. Edison set his napkin down, but he continued to speak in that mild tone, as he kept his eyes on the contact they shared. “He was a big man and I was just like him. He liked to eat. And I liked to feed him. We’d both lost quite a bit of weight after he was diagnosed with high blood pressure, but not enough I guess. He was a great father. The best. He worked hard to give me a good life and teach me differently than how kids are raised now. And I loved it. I never felt like I was missing anything by not being popular or social at school. The kids were jerks anyway. So, it was always me and him.”

  “Where was your mom?” Bishop asked, wanting to know everything. He pulled his hand back, but not far. He shouldn’t’ve been getting so personal, but he hoped Edison wanted to get to know him as well.

  “She died of an infection two days after I was born. I, of course, don’t remember her, but my father never remarried, and he told me stories of her all the time. He’d said she was his one and only.”

  Bishop didn’t know what it was like to be raised that way, the way he’d always dreamed. While Edison had no mother, the same as him, they still had such different upbringings. Edison’s father had been a good role model and had made sure to surround his son with positive influences. “You said before that he had a barber shop.”

  Edison’s somber expression morphed before Bishop’s very eyes. The gold in his irises sparkled as he started to speak. “Yeah. It was on First Colonial in Virginia Beach. It was in operation for forty years before he passed. I used to live and breathe that place, and everyone thought I’d take over for my pop when he passed, but I couldn’t. My uncle had to handle the selling because I couldn’t even go inside the building anymore after it’d happened. The place held too many memories. Even the smell of my father was in there. The scent of Topaz Elite aftershave and the sweet wood oil he used to clean the shoeshine stand was too much for me to deal with.” Edison huffed. “Besides, barbering was never my cal
ling and my dad knew it. I was good at the craft, but I didn’t love it. I only like grooming myself, not random men all day long.”

  “You do a real good job of it, if I may be so bold.” The mood was lighter now and Bishop was thankful.

  Edison rolled his eyes, but his smirk was playful. “No, I don’t mind you being bold, Bishop.”

  “So, you cut your own hair,” Bishop said disbelievingly.

  “Yep. Since I was a teenager.” Edison drank the last of his iced tea. He’d only eaten half of his burger and a few fries before he’d pushed his plate away. Bishop kept eating. It was too damn good to discard the rest, and he didn’t know when he’d get an opportunity to eat another gourmet burger without it costing him twenty bucks.

  “And this too.” Bishop touched the bottom of Edison’s jaw. He couldn’t help himself. “I’ve never seen a shave so close.”

  Edison closed his eyes as if he was savoring the sensation. “I use a straight razor. Every day.”

  “Oh damn.” Bishop’s brows rose. That’s pretty badass, right there. Edison was just full of surprises.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Edison

  Edison didn’t want Bishop to move his hands. Ever. He’d only used his fingertips to graze over his cheek, but it’d been enough to spark a fuse that’d been burned out for ages. His cock kept twitching excitedly the more Bishop spoke. He wasn’t as silent as Edison thought. Quite the opposite. It was as if Bishop couldn’t stop himself from asking questions. He made a point not to stutter when he met Bishop’s eyes. “So, um. Let’s see what you have for my yard. I can’t wait. I did tell you Fall is my favorite time of year, didn’t I?”