Bishop

by A. E. Via

  Bishop walked with one hand at the small of Edison’s back as they were led to a four-top table midway through the busy dining room. Edison was all smiles when he sat and positioned the menu in front of him. Bishop glanced around, noting how elegant the restaurant looked from this side with its high ceilings and murals of Italy on the walls.

  “Good evening. My name is Darla and I’ll be your server this evening. What can I start you with to drink?” she asked with a broad grin on her face.

  “I’ll have a Guinness and a water, thanks,” Bishop said, then looked at Edison who ordered a sweet tea. Darla left them alone to browse through the menu which Edison had left lying on the table.

  “You gonna eat?” Bishop smiled. He realized he’d been doing that a lot lately. While he didn’t flash a row full of teeth, it still felt good to him.

  “Of course. But, I kinda know this menu backwards and forwards. So, I already know what I’m getting.” Edison blushed. “You want me to recommend something? I think I know what you like now.”

  “I think you do too.” Bishop stroked the top of Edison’s hand. He watched as Edison adjusted in his seat, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

  “Bishop,” Edison whispered. His cheeks were pinking but it wasn’t overly noticeable in the dim lighting, only to him. “When you said public affection, I didn’t think you were talking about me not being able to stand all night.”

  Bishop chuckled, he loved the sound of that. “I just wanna touch you, Eddie. Your skin always feels so—”

  “I don’t believe it. It’s such a small world,” a smooth voice said close to him—too close.

  Bishop didn’t immediately turn away from Edison’s eyes, even though they’d left his and were focused on the person speaking behind him. Bishop couldn’t believe his damn luck, he should’ve played the lottery—because what were the fucking odds of his ex being in the one place he was in, in all of goddamn Town Center. Over twenty-two places to eat around there and Royce had chosen Bravo.

  Edison frowned slightly, a pleasant smile on his lips as he glanced back at Bishop. “I think he’s speaking to you.”

  Unfortunately. Bishop looked up when Royce came from behind him and stood next to their table. His ex had a broad, sinister grin on his face as he watched him and Edison. Bishop cleared his throat not knowing what the fuck. “What are you doing here, Royce?”

  “I’m here to eat dinner, of course. I’m not here to watch a movie.” Royce cocked his head to the side as if Bishop was an idiot. He assumed it was a dumb thing to say. Royce refocused on Edison, his sharp eyes assessing him in such an obvious way that Edison ended up sticking his hand out.

  “Royce was it? Nice to meet you, I’m Edison Scala, a friend of Bishop’s.”

  Bishop wanted to kick his own ass. He hadn’t tried to ignore Edison, he just didn’t want him meeting Royce. Fuck, why didn’t I introduce him myself? Bishop wouldn’t have described Eddie as a mere friend. He didn’t want to make love to his buddies. He finally found his voice and his balls. “Sorry. Um, Edison this Royce an old friend from my neighborhood.”

  Royce turned slowly and narrowed his eyes at him, and Bishop knew it was about to be on. It didn’t take much to spark Royce’s fuse. “That’s a crappy way to introduce the man you’d planned to spend the rest of your life with.”

  Bishop checked his reaction, adamant that Royce was not going to humiliate him. He had to get him the hell away from Edison. Royce didn’t deserve to be around him, and the last thing he wanted was for his nice guy to see the kind of dysfunctional relationship he’d once been in.

  “That was a long time ago,” Bishop muttered. “It was good seeing you, Royce.”

  “Ouch, Bishop.” Royce feigned hurt, even holding his hand over his heart. “That’s no way to treat a friend is it, Ed?”

  “It’s just Edison,” Edison said politely, but Royce obviously ignored him, his eyes all over Bishop.

  He clenched his jaw, trying his best to convey to Royce that he better keep his fat mouth shut and leave.

  Royce shoved the arms of his jacket up to his elbows, then unhooked the middle button. “We were just about to sit at the bar when I saw you. Mind if we join you?” Royce glared at Edison.

  Edison ran his hand over his lapel and sat up a bit taller. “Please. My Aunt Carlotta always says breaking bread with friends makes the food taste just a bit better.”

  “I just bet she does,” Royce droned. He hadn’t actually waited for the okay to join them before he was already sitting in one of the other chairs. It was only then that Bishop noticed that Royce wasn’t alone. He was with the little twerp from his school group who Bishop had kept getting dirty sneers from; and it appeared he’d brought those same irritating expressions with him tonight. He sat his slim frame down in the last chair, shooting laser beams through his black-rimmed glasses at Royce, which he disregarded.

  Edison continued to wear an inviting expression, but it was clear he wasn’t understanding what was going on. Royce and Bishop were not friends, and it was obvious. They weren’t anything anymore. He’d thought Royce had understood what goodbye meant.

  “Hello, I’m Edison.” Edison stuck his hand out to the twerp, who barely touched it before he dropped Edison’s hand. Bishop wanted to reach over and grab the guy behind the neck, but he needed to stay cool or his evening was going to go south, fast.

  “So, Bishop. I haven’t seen you in a while,” Royce said as if he was genuinely interested. “What you been up to?”

  “Work,” Bishop mumbled. The waiter came and dropped off their drinks, then asked if Royce and his company wanted anything.

  “I’ll have a mojito, top shelf, please,” Royce said, leaning back and crossing his legs as if he was a movie star. He lifted the menu, ignoring his friend’s protest.

  “I just want water. We’re not staying,” the twerp urged but Royce didn’t bother acknowledging him. Bishop almost wanted to laugh. If that guy thought for one second that his wants were more important than Royce’s, then he must not know him well at all.

  Royce waved in his friend’s direction. “This is Jason, he’s my study buddy. We were just taking a break.”

  Is that what they’re called these days? Bishop liked fuckbuddy better. Had a nice ring to it. He took a long swig from his dark brew, drinking half the glass before setting it on the table. Edison’s eyes were on him, and Bishop didn’t like the uncomfortable expression on his face.

  “Does anyone want to start with an appetizer?” the waitress asked, her intrigued gaze bouncing between the four of them.

  “I’d like a bowl of the lobster bisque to start,” Edison said, when no one else chimed in.

  “Hmm.” Royce stared quizzically at Bishop. “This is my first time here… can you recommend something, Bishop?”

  Bishop damn near bit his tongue off, he was clenching his jaw so hard. He already knew what Royce was doing, exactly what he was afraid of. Taunting him.

  “Actually, it’s Bishop’s first time here. I can practically write this menu myself I eat here so often.” Edison chuckled, though no one else did.

  “I just bet you do,” Royce said condescendingly, disguising his rudeness behind his million-dollar smile. “But Bishop knows what I like.”

  Their waitress was standing there with her pen poised over her notepad as they ping-ponged the weirdness back and forth. Bishop took another drink of his beer, raising it towards Carla. She nodded, getting the message. Edison cast his eyes to his menu when Bishop tried to look at him.

  “Eat whatever you want, Royce. I don’t care.” Bishop scanned his menu, remembering where Trent said the starters were. “I’ll have the spinach and artichoke dip, please.”

  Royce’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, but he quickly laughed off Bishop’s words. “Still such a grouch.” Royce smiled at Carla. “Nothing for me.”

  The table was quiet after the waitress left and Bishop was praying to any entity that would hear him to make Royce disappear.
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  “So, Ed. How did you and Bishop meet? You two certainly make an interesting couple.”

  Edison nervously smoothed his hand over the side of his hair, then glanced at Bishop as if he wasn’t sure what was okay to say. He had no clue what sign to give him, so he just placed his hand over his where it rested on the table.

  “Just Edison, please,” Edison said with a bit more force. “And, I met Bishop at my job.”

  Another server brought their drinks from the bar, and this time Bishop didn’t make it appear as if he was trying to get drunk. He sipped his beer while Royce made a show of drinking his minty cocktail.

  “And what is it you do, Edison?”

  “I’m an executive office manager at a law firm. Bishop’s company was recently contracted to do the landscaping. I guess I was so impressed with his work that I wanted to meet him.” Edison gazed warmly at Bishop with those striking brown and green eyes, and he felt the rest of the room disappear… until Royce interrupted.

  “His company?” Royce acted confused then snapped his fingers. “Oh, you mean Mike’s—his dad’s—company.”

  “Sure.” There was a tic in Edison’s jaw, and he seemed relieved when their server brought their dishes so he wouldn’t have to think of anything else to say.

  “If you guys are ready to order your entrees, I can get those in,” their waitress said.

  “Nothing for me,” the twerp huffed, glancing up from his phone. Royce had been such a one-man-show as usual that Bishop had forgotten the guy was even there.

  “I’d like the grilled salmon, with the pesto vinaigrette on the side, please,” Edison said and handed over his menu.

  Bishop was staring at his menu, and he could see Royce watching him out of the corner of his eye… waiting for him to slip up so he could pounce. Even though Royce no longer wanted a relationship with Bishop, seeing him laughing and holding hands with someone else was making him act like an ass. “I’ll have the lobster ravioli with the house salad.”

  “Which one?” she asked.

  “Yeah, which one?” Royce laughed, making Edison frown.

  “I’ll have the Della Casa salad, thanks.” Bishop handed his menu to the waitress then looked at Royce with a fuck-you expression.

  “And for you?” Carla asked Royce.

  He handed her the menu then said casually. “I’m dieting. I’ll just have another mojito.”

  “That must be the new Desperate Housewives of Virginia diet I’ve heard so much about,” Twerp mumbled the words under his breath, but Bishop and the rest of the table heard him, and he actually had to hold in his laugh.

  “If you add grilled chicken to that salad, Bishop, it makes an amazing lunch,” Edison added when the air began to pop with static.

  “I’ll remember that, baby,” Bishop said, taking Edison’s hand.

  Royce glared at their connection for so long that Edison eventually slid his hand from underneath Bishop’s and set it in his lap. After a couple of spoons of his orangish, creamy soup, Edison added, “You said the two of you were study buddies, Royce. What school do y’all go to?”

  “TCC,” they both said in unison, and Royce rolled his eyes.

  “Great school.” Edison nodded. “I went there too before I transferred to Old Dominion University.”

  “Ahh.” Royce nodded as if he was listening.

  “What are you studying?” Poor Edison was really trying to keep the conversation light and somewhat cordial. Bishop wasn’t interested in speaking to either of the two idiots who’d crashed his goddamn date. They were lucky he wasn’t being ruder than he was.

  “Political science,” Royce answered. “But, I may change that later.”

  “Oh yeah, to what?” Edison asked.

  “Who knows. Poly sci is just too damn boring.”

  Twerp was pouting at Royce as if he was about to cry. Good-fucking-grief. What is Royce doing to this poor dude? “I’ve gotten pretty good at managing restaurants, so, maybe I’ll switch to hospitality management, or food and beverage management.” Royce shrugged.

  Edison’s smile got wider and Bishop knew why. Any talk of restaurants and food and Edison felt he was in his wheelhouse. “Really? That sounds great. I think the restaurant industry is a booming business in Hampton Roads. The job field is lucrative right now and you’d be smart to strike while the iron’s hot.”

  “Is that so? Well, I simply must take your advice, Ed.” Royce stared at Bishop as he swirled his finger around the rim of his glass and took a piece of mint off the edge and placed it sexily onto his tongue as if it was a hit of acid.

  “Edison. Please.” Edison cut his eyes at Bishop then back to Royce. “It was just my opinion, of course. I probably would’ve done something similar if I’d had more of a choice. I remember my pop gave me a recipe book of everyone’s favorite entrees at popular restaurants. Like Chili’s ribs, or Friday’s artichoke dip.” Edison laughed, “My favorite was Red Lobster’s cheddar bay biscuits.”

  “No bullshit? You can make those?” Twerp asked, looking impressed, which only appeared to incense Royce.

  Edison smiled. “I can. They’re really not all that hard. What restaurant are you managing, Royce? I almost guarantee I’ve made a dish by them.”

  “It’s not important,” Bishop said to Edison before Royce could answer. “Your pancakes are much better than IHOP’s, baby.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Edison

  Edison could have counted on one hand how many times he’d prayed for a dinner to be over. That was rare for him. But, gosh was he happy to be walking out of Bravo and into the night air. That had been the weirdest, most awkward dinner he’d ever had. Which really sucked, because he’d been looking forward to it for so long. But he wasn’t mad, not at Bishop anyway. He was sure he hadn’t planned that, not with the almost hostile way he’d reacted to the guy. But Royce had played off their discomfort and commandeered their evening, whether they’d liked it or not.

  Edison shook his head as they walked slowly back to the car. That Royce was a real character. Edison thought he’d met some interesting people in his line of work—interning in the General District Court, volunteering at the help desk at Social Services—but Royce topped them all. He should’ve been an actor or something, because he’d had all of them up and down with his sarcastic antics. Royce would say things in a way that wasn’t nice, but it was never quite clear if he was being insulting either. Especially the way he kept acting as if he didn’t mean to call Edison, Ed.

  He was theatrical in the way he would uncross his long legs, turn his body in another direction and cross them again. With a set of gams like those, he could’ve been a male Radio City Rockette, old George from his father’s shop would’ve probably said. And Edison was confused by how well the man could frown with his eyes all while smiling with his mouth. To say his personality could’ve used an overhaul was an understatement. A lot of men would’ve killed for Royce’s body—for his swag. He was a man who could have had his pick of any suitor he wanted if he wasn’t so… so… Edison frowned. Weird.

  It was unbelievable to think that Bishop had once been in love with him. Bishop hadn’t denied it when Royce had said they were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. So, he must’ve loved him. But they seemed almost like enemies now, surely not friends. Edison squeezed Bishop’s hand as they maneuvered around a rowdy group of ladies who were hanging off of each other and having fun.

  Bishop had been quiet all through dinner. Royce had literally excused himself after their entrees came, claiming he and his study buddy needed to get back to work. Bishop’s jaw had been tight as a bowstring since. He felt bad that Bishop had let his ex get to him like he had. The little jabs Royce had gotten in on Edison just bounced off his thick skin. When it came to guys like Royce, Edison could deflect their BS all day. He’d had many years of experience, so he’d enjoyed his salmon dish and not thought twice about the prick when he’d left. However, Hurricane Royce had left a mess behind as he’d
departed.

  Edison didn’t start the engine as soon as they got in the car. It was quieter, and he could finally speak without having to yell over the noise and music in the courtyard. “Hey,” Edison whispered. He reached up and took Bishop’s chin in his palm, his rough beard electrifying his sensitive skin. Bishop’s shoulders were slumped, and his expression pained when he looked up at Edison. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “Your dinner was hijacked,” Bishop growled.

  Edison removed his hand, the sound of Bishop’s voice striking him in his chest. He was so upset and Edison hated it, he wanted to fix it. It was true, they didn’t deserve for their first date to be like that but hopefully there’d be more. “Yeah, I guess. But, it’s all right, Bishop. I’m really happy just to be out with you.”

  Bishop cracked a hint of a smile, and Edison seized it and continued talking. “Next time I’ll pick the restaurant and I’ll guarantee you it’s not a place Royce will show up at.”

  “And where’s that?” Bishop stared at him.

  “Golden Corral. Do you like that place?” Edison smiled. “I love their buffet. It’s one of my guilty pleasures. I bet Royce wouldn’t be caught dead in there.”

  Bishop’s laughter was deep and rumbly as he tilted his head back and filled Edison’s car with a wonderful sound. When he finally stopped, his laughter dying down to a deep chuckle, Edison ducked his head, not wanting Bishop to see how elated he’d just made him. That a-hole had tried to make Bishop feel small, and at times, as if he was simple, but Edison knew the man beside him was far from that. And it’d only taken a few words from him and Bishop felt better. He’d done that for him.

  Bishop’s expression turned serious as he leaned in and cupped Edison’s jaw, rubbing his rough hand along his cheek. Edison placed his hand over Bishop’s to keep him from removing it and closed his eyes. Next thing he felt was Bishop’s full, warm lips pressing against his own. He moaned louder than he should’ve at the light contact, but it felt so good he couldn’t help it. Bishop wove his hand to the back of his neck, the pressure feeling amazing as Bishop slanted his head and slid his tongue inside.