What friends? Edison breathed. None of those people hung out with him, ever. He appreciated his assistant’s concern but he kind of wanted to be left alone now. “Mila, um. Can you confirm the Bravo meet—?”
“Already did,” she said swiftly.
Edison glanced around his desk to see what he could ask her to do to get her back to her cubicle. “Then can you call Ms. Strollenburg and tell her that I—?”
“Done and done. She’ll be in at five-thirty with the documents you requested right before she has to go to her night job.” Mila stood. “Keep your head out the clouds and check your updated schedule.”
That so wasn’t where his head was—neither one of them—but okay. “Sure. I’ll look at it right now.”
“And don’t eat anything at Bravo, you had lunch there last week. And I know you’re cooking at home,” Mila said on her way out. She could talk to him like that because he knew she meant well and wanted Edison to be healthy and happy in his own skin.
Edison ran his tie through his fingers. “Surely, an appetizer wouldn’t hurt. And… maybe some of their bread and oil.”
“Edison,” she growled.
“Yeah, okay, no bread. Go on, shoo, I have a few calls to make.”
“I’ll know if you ate it anyway,” she warned, then closed his door behind her.
Chapter Ten
Bishop
The week had gone well and Bishop was enjoying the new project but he was glad it was Friday. He’d told his dad that he was going back to Town Center to check on their equipment because he didn’t think the tarps over their bags of premium black mulch were secured enough for the entire weekend, and wanted to double-check. They were expected to have thunderstorms on Sunday, but Mike had still looked at him skeptically. Bishop was concerned about the tarps but he also wanted to make another run nearby. It was a few seconds before he’d relented and tossed him the truck keys. Fridays meant his dad would be at his girlfriend’s apartment until tomorrow night. Bishop liked to take advantage of having the place to himself when he could turn off the loud television and put in one of those CD books and work on some sketches. But no more romance! If he heard another two pages of breathing and groaning, he was going to tug his blue balls off.
Sure, it would’ve been easy for him to find a hottie for the night at one of the clubs downtown, but that wasn’t what Bishop wanted. After seeing what he had in prison, the thought of meaningless, loveless sex made his stomach turn. Made him feel like he should be back in those cells, listening to the rutting and grunting of angry, hard bodies. It’d been in his face, the opportunities, and he’d fought it the entire time, vowing that he’d wait until he could hold a man willingly and tenderly in his arms. Someone who wanted him.
I’m telling you he has the IQ of an ant! Bishop hit the steering wheel with his fist then scrubbed his hand over his head. He wanted to stop replaying that statement over and over in his mind, but he didn’t know how. Shit. Why the hell couldn’t he? He’d told Royce goodbye.
Bishop stared at the bright green neon sign on top of the store he was parked in front of. He’d watched several people go in and out of the Barnes & Noble for the past fifteen minutes, trying to will himself to get out of the truck. He knew it was stupid to be intimidated by a store, but dammit, he was. However, it was either go in there and find a book CD that he would enjoy or be forced to listen to the one Sicilia had given him when he’d dropped Trent off. Bishop pushed his thumb against his temple when he thought of the cover of the man and woman kissing each other while being swept up in a wave on the beach. Just get out, man. Bishop could almost hear his cellmate Woods’ voice. He’d be kicking him in the ass right now for doubting himself so much.
He held the door for a couple of women walking ahead of him. They smiled and both said pleasant thank-yous while giving him a discreet once-over. He didn’t tug anxiously at his dark clothes, instead he held his head up and stepped into the brightly lit bookstore. A lot jumped out and attacked his senses at once. The most potent being the robust scent of coffee. Bishop recognized the Starbucks logo in the café area and avoided going in that direction. He moved farther down the aisle, trying not to look like a tourist and gazed up at the high ceiling and towering shelves of literature. Large signs and advertisements were posted on each table he passed. But, not only was every available space crammed with books, but also toys, candies, foods, office supplies, and much more.