by A. E. Via
“I’ll have the same as him… but without the side comments,” Trent gritted.
The guy pfft’d and turned to fix their drinks. Bishop raised his brow and mouthed, what the fuck was that?
Trent rolled his eyes and positioned the dinner menu in between them. “Nothing. Let’s just get this over with. That guy gives me the creeps.”
Bishop narrowed his eyes as Trent glared at the menu, his gaze periodically flitting up to meet his then dropping again—a classic sign a man was lying or hiding something. He decided not to press and instead leaned in so Trent could point out Bishop’s favorite things to eat.
“You guys wanna order some food?” the bartender asked when he set their beers and two tall glasses of ice-cold water in front of them.
“I don’t think so,” Bishop said, “We’re just looking. We’re on a lunch break so we don’t have time for much else but drinks.”
The man leaned on the bar as if he was about to carry on a lengthy conversation, and Bishop saw Trent tense on his stool. “You guys are looking at the dinner menu, most stuff on the lunch only takes about nine to eleven minutes to cook.”
Bishop tried to cover Trent’s huff of irritation by clearing his throat. “Thanks, man. We’ll take a look.”
The tall bartender didn’t take his eyes off Trent when he said, “Sure. My name’s Graham. Just give me a holler if you change your mind.”
“Thanks,” Bishop said. He waited until the guy walked away and he noticed a spicy, woodsy scent vanished with him. He smelled great, but not as amazing as his executive.
“What’s the specials?” Bishop asked after he reached over and took one of the paper table tents advertising a new dish.
“Some new organic meatballs. Vegetable, meatless, tofu beef, yada, yada, yada, bullshit.”
“Right. Moving on.” Bishop pushed that to the side. Edison liked meat, not that vegan stuff.
Trent began to point to some of the more popular dishes under what he said was the Italian word for fish and read the small descriptions for each one. Bishop paid close attention, making sure he’d be able to remember everything. “You’ll probably like this… it’s lobster ravioli.”
“That sounds good. What’s the other two options?” Bishop asked.
“Grilled salmon or shrimp scampi made with capellini pasta.” Trent eyed him warily. “I don’t even know what the fuck kind of noodle that is.”
“It’s just a slightly thinner spaghetti,” Graham chimed in from where he’d obviously been watching and listening.
“Damn,” Trent grumbled close to Bishop’s ear. “That guy’s hanging onto your every fucking word, B.”
Bishop chuckled. “Actually, I think he’s hanging on to yours.”
“What!” Trent hollered.
Graham looked down the bar but turned his head when Trent shot daggers at him. “Come on, let’s go. It’s been a half hour. I think you got it from here.”
“Yep. I’m all straight.” He waved to Graham, since Trent was already heading towards the door, and dropped several bills for their tab and a decent tip. Bishop walked the short distance back to their worksite feeling a lot more confident about his date. He didn’t think what he was doing was another way to keep the wool pulled over Edison’s eyes. He only wanted tonight to be special. His date would have a higher success rate the more prepared he was. Besides, tonight he was going to tell Edison that he’d be unavailable for a couple of nights out of the week while he did his classes. After listening to Edison read so flawlessly to him for weeks, he contended that he was going to work his ass off and not miss one single lesson. He was going to learn how to read, and not because of his new relationship but for himself. Because it was time and he deserved it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Edison
“Anything need my attention before I go?” Edison said happily to his secretary. He had his messenger bag on his shoulder and all lights were turned off in his office.
She looked at him as if he had a boob stuck to his forehead.
“What?” He smiled.
She shook her head and pointed one of her sharp, tiger-striped nails in his direction, “Okay, that’s it. You’ve been Mr. Smiley Face all week long, and today you’re ready to leave before I am. Now, spill it. What’s got you so delighted?” she asked while putting her purse on her shoulder.
Edison couldn’t hold it in any longer. He did need to tell somebody, and he and Mila used to be closer before his father passed and Edison had retreated even further into his shell. “Fine. Okay. I have a date.”
Her eyes bugged out so far Edison feared she’d lose her eyesight if she didn’t put them back in her head. “Geez, Mila. You don’t have to look that surprised. I’ve been seeing him about four weeks, and I think it’s starting to get serious.”
“Oh my gosh, this is the best news,” Mila gushed, walking with him to the elevators, practically bouncing on her tall heels. While he stood waiting for the car to get to his floor Mila kept fawning. “What’s his name? What’s he look like? Is he a twink? Is he a muscle-daddy? Oh man, I just realized I don’t even know your type.”
Edison laughed. His heart beat madly whenever he tried to think of a description for Bishop. “He’s a big guy and his name is Bishop. He’s older than me… but not old, old.”
“Oh, that’s a strong name.” Mila fanned herself.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He and Mila both spun around to find Skylar standing behind them with a repulsed expression.
“Excuse me?” Mila scowled back, “Are you speaking to me?”
“He knows who I’m speaking to,” Skylar said, not taking his eyes off Edison.
Okay, he didn’t know why Skylar was flipping back and forth on him but he was getting whiplash. Skylar had been more courteous after Edison had set him straight in the elevator. While he’d resigned himself to the fact that he and Skylar would never be hangout buddies, he’d done better over the past couple of weeks with his work ethics so they could perhaps be on better terms as coworkers. Skylar had come by Edison’s office once and offered to walk with him to their meeting. And on Tuesday, he’d floored Edison when he’d asked him to go to lunch. He’d politely declined and blamed it on his massive workload, but he remembered that all his employees caught the nice bug the week before Boss Appreciation Day.
Edison returned Skylar’s disgusted look with one of his own then continued talking to Mila as if his presence was inconsequential. Doing that to a man as conceited as Skylar was the best way to pay him back. The moment the elevator doors opened, Skylar stormed past, rudely bumping Edison’s shoulder when he did.
“Oh hell no,” Mila fussed at Skylar’s back.
“Let him go.” Edison sighed. He didn’t care what kind of mood disorder Skylar was suffering from this week. Nothing could bring down his elation. Mila wished him tons of luck on his date and told him she wanted to hear all about it on Monday.
~
Edison took his time getting ready. He wanted to make sure his shave was smooth and close like Bishop preferred. He used the clippers on the sides of his head, and the trimmer to sharpen his hairline. He’d been careful with how much hair gel he used, wanting his length on top to have a bit more body and not as tamed as when he was in the office. Tonight, Bishop was going to see the laid-back-can-chill-with-the-best-of-them Edison. He’d splashed on his father’s aftershave, careful to use it sparingly. It was his father’s personal blend and Edison was on the last quarter of the bottle. But tonight was a special occasion and he wanted to look good, most of all he wanted to feel good.
Edison was finished early of course, and when he checked his watch he saw he still had half an hour before Bishop arrived. He stood at his entertainment stand drinking from his bottle of water and listening to a little Dave Matthews Band to pass the time, and to hopefully calm his nerves. He was wondering if tonight would be the night. They hadn’t done much more than kissing and some petting at the door when Bishop headed home at n
ight, Bishop being the ultimate gentleman. But Edison trusted him and he was ready… I’m ready, dangit.
Edison jumped when the doorbell chimed. He chuckled, feeling silly, and hurried to the front door. Bishop was early which made Edison feel like a treasure that Bishop couldn’t wait to get to. He ran his hand over the lapel of his casual, almond-colored Tom Ford blazer, double-checking his appearance one last time before he opened the door.
“Hey, you’re earl—” Edison’s smile froze before he quickly replaced that expression with anger, “What are you doing here, Skylar?”
Skylar didn’t say anything as he stood on his porch staring at him.
“Hello?” Edison said louder.
Skylar swallowed as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry, then looked down Edison’s body before his green eyes landed back on his face. “You’re awfully dressed up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans,” he said, his voice sounding distant. “Big plans tonight?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Edison said, annoyed. He wanted to know what the heck was going on and why Skylar was at his home. “Is this visit work related?”
Skylar peeked over Edison’s shoulder. “Can I come in?”
“No.” Edison eliminated the large gap in the open door. “I’m expecting company.”
Skylar scowled a long moment before he held up a manila folder, a look of irritation contorting his bacheloresque features. “There’s something I need to show you before your little date tonight.”
Edison crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not interested.”
“Oh yes you will be at this,” Skylar said through clenched teeth, “Despite your position and how good you are at your job, you’re young, Edison, and still quite naïve about things.”
Edison blinked, not sure which way he wanted to tell Skylar to screw-off first. He could feel his face heating, and it was only making him even more upset that his co-worker had the audacity to show up at his home to—
“I can see you revving up but just hold that thought before you say something you’ll have to apologize for later,” Skylar said, cutting off Edison’s internal tirade. “Just look.”
Edison frowned when Skylar opened the folder and the first thing he saw on the right side was a Norfolk City Public Jail mugshot of Bishop, appearing exhausted and defeated. On the other side was a copy of his arrest record. “He’s a goddamn felon, Edison. Bishop R. Stockley, recently did five years and three weeks for strong-armed robbery in a maximum security federal prison. He’s not a wonderful guy, he’s not your fucking prince charming or whatever the hell. You’ve been walking around with fairy dust up your ass for weeks thinking you’re having some serendipitous romance, when you’re not.
Edison just knew his ears were about to shoot steam. How dare Skylar butt into his personal business? Edison had to take a deep breath before he spoke, not wanting to scream and attract the attention of any of his neighbors. “I already knew about his conviction, Mr. Johnny-Come-Lately. Bishop has been nothing but honest with me from the start.”
Skylar glared as if he was about to spring into a hissy fit. “You… you already knew and you’re still going out with him?” Skylar threw his hands up. “This is insane. I mean how desperate are you? You’re the head of our department, Edison. This is pathetic.”
Edison shook his head, not knowing why he was letting this butthole take him out of his wonderful headspace just before his date arrived—his first date in years. Okay, enough was enough. “Ya know, you’re calling me desperate and pathetic but you’re the one standing here on my porch at almost eight o’clock on a Friday night with public information on the man I’m dating.”
Skylar slammed the folder shut, glaring at Edison. “I’m trying to be a friend.”
“Being a friend would mean you not being upset that I’ve been happier these past few weeks. Instead, my good mood is bothering you to the point that you’ve started a silly witch-hunt to dig up dirt on someone I like.”
“This is the thanks I’m getting, huh?” Skylar shook his head.
Edison looked Skylar in his eyes, not liking the craziness he saw there. “I want you to get this trash off my dang property right now and take your BS detective work in that folder with you,” Edison said and slammed his door.
He leaned against the hard surface, his heart beating too fast for him to properly analyze what’d just happened. Skylar had always been a prick, but Edison didn’t think he’d waste this much time and energy on Bishop, on someone he seemed to despise. Well, there was no way he was telling Bishop what’d happened because, one, he didn’t know how to explain it to a man as honorable as Bishop that some men were just rotten to the core, and two, he wasn’t going to let this ruin their night.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bishop
Bishop rang the doorbell and rocked back on his boots, trying to keep his right leg from bouncing. He was so excited and anxious at the same time that he had no idea what to do with all the pent-up adrenaline coursing through him. That was until Edison opened the door. Holy shit. It took Bishop a few seconds to wrap his head around what he was seeing before he was on Edison, pulling him into his arms and moving him back into the house until they hit a firm surface. He ran his hands up Edison’s back under his nice jacket, stroking the soft material of his shirt. Bishop gazed down on his date, not believing his good fortune. Edison’s bright hazel eyes were dancing with pleasure as Bishop cupped his jaw and took his mouth leisurely. Although the last thing he felt like doing was going slow, but tonight was not a sprint, it was a marathon. And it was time he showed Edison he could be the man he wanted and hopefully move their relationship to the next level. Official and exclusive.
Bishop let go of Edison’s mouth but kept their foreheads together. “Hey,” he breathed.
“Hey,” Edison said back, his condition the same as Bishop’s
“You look amazing.” Bishop ran his hand down Edison’s sides to his hips. He squeezed him there and pulled them close, so their hard cocks were pressed together. Edison trembled and moaned against Bishop’s jaw. “You get all dressed up for me, handsome?”
Edison smiled against his face and Bishop dove for his mouth again. “Tell me,” Bishop said, reaching around to graze his palm over Edison’s ass. “How do you feel about public affection?”
Edison’s cheeks turned a sexy shade of pink. “Well, I’ve never had to answer that question before but I suppose I’d be fine with it.”
“Good,” Bishop murmured. “Because I’m not shy.”
Edison locked up his house and followed Bishop outside. As nice as Edison looked, he didn’t want to put him in his old, dirty work truck, regardless of the fact that he’d cleaned the grass off the seats and sprayed some air freshener. His guy was just so fucking fine in his dark blue jeans and that hot jacket that Bishop was almost embarrassed about his mode of transportation tonight. However, he didn’t have his own car, so he had to use the company vehicle.
“I hate to even ask you to ride in this,” Bishop said as he went to open the passenger door.
Edison turned around. “It doesn’t matter to me. But if it makes you more comfortable I can drive my car. Where are we going?”
“Town Center.” Bishop smirked. “To Bravo.”
Edison’s smile was as bright as the sun. “That’s my favorite Italian place.”
“I know,” Bishop said, feeling as if he’d already scored some bonus points.
Edison’s dark blue Impala wasn’t flashy, but it was roomy and clean and smelled of him, so Bishop found himself settling comfortably into the leather seats. Town Center was only ten minutes from Edison’s house, and before he knew it they were turning into the bustling district, searching for parking. They’d been lucky enough to find a spot on the street, and Bishop was quick to take Edison’s hand as they made the short trek through the courtyard towards Bravo’s doors. The weather was great as the heat of the day vanished and the sunset left beautiful streaks of purp
le, orange and yellow across the sky.
“Have you eaten at any of these other restaurants?” Edison asked, pointing at the upper level, “There’s Ruth Chris up there, but personally, I think their steaks are way overpriced. I mean, come on, it’s still beef, not escargot. But, McCormick & Schmick’s right there is a really good seafood place. We should go there sometime.”
Bishop let go of Edison’s hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “No. I haven’t eaten at any of these places. Living in Norfolk, I rarely drive twenty minutes to get my dinner.”
“You drive that long to eat dinner at my house,” Edison said cheekily.
Bishop curled his arm, pulling Edison towards him so he could whisper in his ear while they walked. “I’d drive even further than that for a taste of you.”
They got a few glances from some men, but nothing that made Bishop have to give anyone a hard look. Virginia Beach was a friendly and diverse place to hang out and the city had zero tolerance for disturbances, especially in its Town Center. Besides the Oceanfront, it was one the biggest tourist attractions, with twenty-four blocks of stores, restaurants, cafes, and clubs—absolutely something for everyone.
He held the door for Edison and let him walk inside before him. While they waited to give their name to the host, Bishop stood close behind Edison with his hands on his shoulders. He wanted to be in contact with him at all times, or at least most of the time. And it wasn’t just to prove that Bishop wasn’t afraid of being out with him, in fact he was proud, but he caressed Edison because both of them were starved for touch.
“Welcome to Bravo. How many, sir?” the host asked Edison. Thank goodness it was a guy on shift this evening and not the girl who’d been there at lunchtime.
“Two please,” Edison replied.
“Sure. Right this way.” He grabbed two of the dinner menus and told them to follow him.
