“Make sure you get in line early,” Edison told them.
“Edison. I can’t tell how much of a blessing you’ve been to my family.” Ms. Strollenburg clasped his hand between both of hers. “I thought going through this bankruptcy would be a nightmare but… but somehow you made it a dream. I don’t have bill collectors calling me anymore, no one taking money out of my paycheck. I can actually take my babies out for a Saturday of fun and not be afraid if I’ll be able to make groceries that week.”
Edison patted her frail hands. She was a special client to him, to Presley as well. They’d both felt so touched by her situation—suddenly losing a daughter and getting custody of three grieving kids—that Presley had taken off half her fee and put the remainder on a payment arrangement to file her case, and Edison had been more than happy to help.
“I’m glad everything worked out Ms. Strollenburg. But I’m still here if you have any questions or need anything.”
“Even if I just need a good apple cobbler recipe?”
Edison chuckled. “Especially for a recipe.”
She smiled up at him as if he was one of her kids then cast her curious eyes behind him. “And who is this handsome man with you?”
Now, it was his turn to vibrate with excitement. “This is my very special friend, Bishop. Bishop, this is one of our most cherished clients, Ms. Strollenburg, and her three grandkids who are freaking amazing.” Edison laughed, high fiving them when they started to swarm him.
“You are one lucky fella,” Ms. Strollenburg said.
“I know.” Edison leaned back against Bishop’s chest.
“I was talking to him.” She smiled at Bishop and walked away.
“I see why she’s so special,” Bishop said, kissing the side of his jaw. “I like her. And she adores you.”
“I worked with her a long time to get that case filed.” Edison turned and squinted up at Bishop. “You don’t have to stay by my side the whole time. If you wanna go hang out with your friends or your dad…”
“They’re good. I see them every day. Besides, all Mike’s doing is handing out business cards. And the other guys all brought their families or girlfriends, so I’m not trying to cut in on their time,” Bishop said.
“Your dad is smart. This is the perfect time to network. Everyone is noticing the lawn.” The day had turned out to be beautiful, and there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky. Edison looked out over the wide space, full of people of all ages who’d come to enjoy their festivities. Presley held a couple of community-based events each year. One was during the summer and the other was an education drive during spring break for underprivileged youth in the City of Portsmouth.
“How much longer we have to stay?” Bishop asked.
Edison waited for Bishop to throw away the last of his bag of popcorn. They were standing under a shade tree at the edge of the lawn closest to the food trucks. He checked his watch, “I think a good time to escape is after we do the raffle drawing. Once that’s finished, most people start to disperse and head to the bars in Town Center.”
“When’s the raffle?”
“In about twenty minutes, but we have a problem,” Mila said walking up to them. She had on a bright fuchsia romper and sunshades that covered almost her entire face.
“Ugh.” Edison dropped his chin to his chest. “Please tell me it’s a small problem.”
“Well, John’s not here to do the raffle drawings and it’s supposed to start at four.” Mila wrung her hands together. “And you know I hate microphones. Um. But one person volunteered to take it over.”
Edison frowned. “Who?”
“Skylar.” Mila cringed.
Edison felt Bishop tense behind him, but he didn’t turn to see what was wrong. “Fine. Tell him to do it. But no ad-libbing or freaking improv. Tell him to just call the dang numbers.”
“Will do,” she said and hurried away.
“About thirty more minutes, honey, and we’re out of here,” Edison whispered. “Then I want you to start on those plans you said you had for me.”
“All right,” Bishop said, his voice turning husky. “I have to talk with you first.”
“Okay.”
“I meant to last night… but somebody put me to sleep,” Bishop murmured against his neck. Edison’s laugh turned into a hushed moan when he thought of the morning in his kitchen and how Bishop had made up for what they’d missed last night. He shook when he remembered being bent over the island, his ass in the air and Bishop’s fingers deep inside of him.
“I know what you’re thinking about,” Bishop said, hiding behind his back. Edison felt so bad while his boyfriend talked naughty to him when his boss was only ten yards away. “You want more of it, don’t you?”