“I’m Bishop Stockley. I’m the new landscaper. I start on this job next week,” the man finally said, pointing at a logo on his large right pec. His voice was throaty and deep as if he hadn’t uttered a word in hours.
Edison released a relieved breath, then suddenly felt like a moron for being afraid in the first place. Even for one second. Gosh, had he been stereotypical? Fudge! Had he been profiling because of the way this guy was dressed? Edison shook his head. “Of course. I’m sorry. Right, right. I should’ve known. I just approved the invoice earlier this week for Stockley Lawn Service to be sent to accounting. Wow, I heard you guys put together an impressive proposal. Congratulations. We had a ton of bids.”
The guy—Bishop—didn’t open his mouth again, not even to accept the praise for their contract. Edison wasn’t sure what his deal was but it made his body warm with the way he glared down at him. There was an uncomfortable pause as Edison stood there staring at the man’s chest because he was unable to meet his dark eyes. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” Edison turned on his heels and hurried to the pathway and into the parking lot.
He started his car and cranked the AC as high as it would go. He hated that he sweated like a farm pig anytime he was edgy. He grunted and tugged at the knot of his tie, yanking it farther down so he could breathe. Edison looked up to see the new lawn guy had walked in the opposite direction, heading towards a white pickup with a magnet on the door advertising the business name. Edison had missed all of that and he knew why. He’d been drawn to that big, looming figure with tunnel vision. Bishop. That was his name. Man, he was intense. Edison watched Bishop’s legs eat up the lawn, his strides confident and purposeful. He released another long exhale. That had been a whole lot of man. He appeared young to have his own landscaping company, but Edison found he admired that. Bishop Stockley was obviously a man who had drive and determination. Edison peered down at his undefined chest and his pudgy stomach, wishing he had the will and drive to accomplish his goals.
Ha! Pull me around a corner to have his nasty way with me. Yeah right. It was kind of depressing to think he hadn’t had a man show him any kind of ways about nothing lately. And that was the reasoning he used for turning into Krispy Kreme on the way home and getting a half dozen of hot glazed donuts.
Chapter Nine
Bishop
“I could get used to working in Town Center, dude. Where you wanna grab lunch from? Mike’s even increased our break to an hour. This is so dope. And there’s tons of eateries around here.” Trent smiled, walking through the parking lot towards their trailer. “That’s what the locals call them.”
“Yeah expensive eateries. You complained about spending ten bucks on breakfast last week, imagine how much lunch would cost over here. You wanna spend fifteen dollars for a Reuben sandwich like Manny just did?” Bishop reached into the backseat of the truck and grabbed his cooler. “I brought mine.”
“You bring me something?” Trent said, staring hungrily at Bishop’s cooler. He laughed and shoved him in the shoulder.
“How come you got a woman but you’re always hungry?”
“She’s supposed to feed me?” Trent balked. “Says who? If I come in and ask her what’s for dinner, I’ll probably get one of those book CD things thrown at my head.”
Bishop chuckled. “Well she does work twelve hour shifts at the hospital. You should cook for her and then maybe she’ll do it for you.”
“Whatever. You know, sometimes I really miss the take-no-bullshit-fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on Bishop” Trent moved with him to where a few guys were eating under a small canopy Mike and Manny had set up. There wasn’t much shade in this area, especially at midday, so sometimes they had to create their own.
Bishop didn’t react. He didn’t miss that guy at all. He wasn’t even real—Bishop was just a survivor back then.
“Which, by the way, Sil says she has new CDs if you wanna listen,” Trent said, accepting one of Bishop’s four turkey and cheese sandwiches he’d packed last night while listening to Mike holler at his latest TV show obsession, Fish Warrior. “I can’t believe you like to listen to those cheesy books.”
Bishop shrugged. He finished one sandwich in a couple of minutes and was on to the next one when he confessed. “I do, kinda. I mean, it’s a whole book on a CD-ROM being read for you. Whoever thought of that is pretty genius. I just wish your girl had something besides romance.”
Trent shoved him in the side, laughing at him. “I bet.”