Chapter Three
Trent
Trent reclined farther in the chair when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He was going for nonchalant because otherwise everyone would notice his frazzled nerves at meeting this stranger. The door swung open, and Mike rushed inside as if it was negative twenty degrees outside instead of forty-two. Bishop’s dad loudly stomped his hiking boots on the small square of linoleum at the front door before coming farther inside. Trent sat up and gave Mike a pound as he looked around the empty space.
“B and Edison aren’t back from picking up Wood yet?”
“Nope,” Trent mumbled.
“They must’ve hit traffic on the high-rise bridge,” Mike said with his back to him as he grabbed one of the few beers out of refrigerator and drank half of it before grabbing another.
“Help yourself to something to drink while you’re in there.”
“I see Edison was here. What kind of soup is this? I’m starving,” Mike asked while grabbing a spoon and bowl. “Get over here, bighead. I want you to look over this lease.”
Trent paused his video game and tossed his controller to the side. He scowled at Mike when he sat at the table and watched him take some folded sheets of paper out of his back pocket. “What the hell is that?”
Mike glared at him with the same expression Bishop possessed. “I already said it’s a lease. Nothing major, just what we’ve already agreed to.”
Trent huffed. “Exactly. We already agreed. A man’s word ain’t no good anymore?”
“Where the hell do you think we are? Texas.” Mike laughed.
Trent took the paper and skimmed over the bullet points. While there was nothing in there that wasn’t unreasonable, he still didn’t like it. Did Mike and Bishop not trust him all of a sudden? There were two places at the bottom for the tenants to sign. Mike’s illegible signature was already scribbled across the field labeled Owner/Property Manager.
“This is 2020, Trent. You know I love you like my own boy, but shit has to be legit these days, okay.” Mike shoved a big chunk of chicken from his soup in his mouth and moaned as if he’d had an orgasm. “Damn that’s good. What’s the name of this?”
Trent scribbled his name on the bottom line. “I don’t know. It’s stew, all right.”
“Are you pissed because I’m trying to do right by you guys?” Mike pushed his bowl to the side and leaned over the small dinette table. “The lease protects you as legal tenants. Before you were staying on the couch, living out of a suitcase. Now you have a room, and all your stuff is here. It’s time to make it legal, dude, that’s all this is.”
Trent made a noncommittal sound and tossed the pen on top of the paper.
Mike leaned back in his chair and crossed his big arms over his chest. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing.” Trent stood and went to the kitchen sink and grabbed the dish rag to clean up the drops of orange broth Mike left on the stovetop.
“You know you’ve always acted like a kicked puppy anytime Bishop took interest in anything besides you, but it’s time you found your own interest, Trent,” Mike said, leaning against the counter. “Get a hobby. Make some new friends.”
“Hold on a second, Mike, and let me grab a pen and paper so I can jot down these pearls of wisdom.” Trent pretended to give his friend’s dad his full attention. “I mean, this is good stuff.”
Mike flipped him off. “Fine by me. Act like an asshole. But the situation will only be shit if you make it that way. I’ve spoken with Wood a couple times on the phone, and he seems all right, man. Maybe you should give him a chance before you mount a defense strategy.”
“What?” Trent was wiping the same spot over and over as Mike watched him. “I’m not trying to defend against any—”
“First of all, stop, because you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ve known you since you were what, eight, nine? I know when you’re upset, T, because you can’t hide your temper. Second, you’re trying to bullshit a bullshitter, because I know Wood coming here intimidates the hell out of you, and I wanna know why.”
Trent didn’t say anything because Mike was right on both counts. Bishop hadn’t told him many details on his old cellmate, but what he had said made the man sound like the son of Gandhi, or a distant relative of Mandela. According to Bishop, Wood was so wise and strong. Definitely not traits anyone would use to describe Trent. More like guarded and overprotective.
“You never said what happened between you and Sil?” Mike closed in on him. He hated when Bishop did this too. Made him feel cornered and called on his shit. “Y’all were together forever, then you’re not home a few months and you break it off for good.”