“I was fighting for you,” Trent’s voice lowered to almost a pleading tone. “I won’t stand by and let anyone call you stupid.”
Bishop was quiet for a while before he muttered. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Trent bared his teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me that. You’re the smartest man I know.”
Bishop snorted and took a deep sigh. “Then you need to get out more.”
Trent frowned and it finally made Bishop crack a hint of a smile. “Come on, man. We only got an hour and a half before we have to be at work. I hope Mike stayed at his girl’s house last night, that way he won’t know I didn’t come home, and I won’t have to answer any questions.”
“He still riding you, huh?” Trent gave him a sympathetic look.
“Yeah. He said if he hears word of me getting into shit then I’m outta his house.” Bishop got them walking towards the bus stop. “He was clear when he said I had to stay out of trouble and he now has zero tolerance for anything gang-related.”
“Wow. Okay. I get it.” Trent nodded. “Not trying to make you homeless. Unless you wanna live with me.”
Bishop shook his head. “Man, you barely have a roof over your own head. What are gonna tell Sil about where you were and why you weren’t answering your phone all night?”
“I’ll tell her I was playing video games at your place until late and fell asleep. Phone was dead. Then I caught a ride with you and Mike to work. Simple.”
Bishop groaned. “It’s not simple. It’s a flat out lie. Come on, Trent. She’s supposed to be your girl.”
“I’m good to her. And look, B, you’re the one that took a personal vow not to lie. Not me. I lie just fine when I need to, thank you. Besides, it’s just a little white lie.”
“There’s nothing white or little about that lie if you say you were at your boss’s house asleep instead of downtown in the city lock-up.” Bishop came to a stop a few feet from the intersection.
Trent bumped his shoulder and laughed off his statement. But Bishop watched as his friend moved away a few steps and took out his cell phone, to send his girl a quick text to do some damage control. Which was exactly what he needed to do. While Trent was preoccupied, Bishop walked the several yards to the Boulevard, almost to the McDonald’s at the corner of Market Street. Pedestrians gave him room as he moved down the center of the sidewalk. Bishop was often reminded that while he was genuinely a nice guy, he didn’t particularly look like one. Women in business suits and sneakers glanced at his exposed arms and stern face before darting their eyes in another direction.
“B. Hold up!” Trent called out to him, but he waved for him to stay and wait for their bus, he had his own cleaning up to do.
When he was almost to the corner, he kept a decent distance from the Diggs Park crew who had assembled in front of a small convenience store. That was another thing that Bishop wouldn’t miss about being in a gang—the hanging out doing nothing all the time. None of them had anything productive to do but stand around and wait to get into shit. Sly was leaning against the side of the building talking on his phone. When he made eye contact with Bishop, he gave him a sign to meet him around the back of the building so he could speak with him… alone.
Bishop noted that Trent was still watching him the closer he got to the gang, but he didn’t move. If he’d walked down there, then he surely would’ve had more words with Jessup. No one advanced on him when he walked by, a couple of the guys even nodding in respect for him. Bishop made a right on Market Street, walking past the Popeye’s sitting on the corner, the smell of their fresh baked biscuits making his stomach growl ferociously. He was beyond starving, and his body ached from sitting up all night, but he knew if he didn’t take care of this right now, he and Trent would be looking over their shoulder the rest of the day.
Bishop cut between the buildings, his steps heavy and his gait sluggish, but the second a hot palm gripped his bicep and jerked him sideways he spun and gripped his captor by the throat and pushed his large body into him until his back hit the concrete wall. A hard grunt left Sly’s mouth as his eyes widened, and his other hand flew up to hold Bishop’s wrist.
“Damn, man,” Sly hissed as he slowly released his hold. Bishop didn’t let him go but he eased up on the pressure before dropping his hands until they were clenched at his sides. He didn’t like to be snuck up on. “Prison's made you jumpy, B.”