Edison spun around and saw that Mike had Bishop wrapped up again, forcing his big arms against his sides. Mike’s arms flexed with the effort to hold Bishop in place. “What’s wrong? Scared your man’s about to see the original is better than the copy?”
Bishop reared his head back as if he was getting ready to slam his forehead into Mike’s nose, when he suddenly let Bishop go.
“Asshole,” Bishop said, falling against the sink, breathing hard from their exertion. “Eddie. If you ever want a man to get the hell off you, then head butt the shit out of him.”
“Sure thing, honey. I’ll have to remember that,” Edison said, not trying to hide his sarcasm at all.
Mike grabbed a couple of cans of beer out of the refrigerator and tossed one to Bishop, who caught it with one hand. Edison placed the paper plate of sliced beef to the side and started on the peppers. “I thought you guys were gonna tear the place apart.”
“It’s used to us.” Bishop pounded his palm against the wall. “She’s built tough.”
“Just like her owner.” Mike nodded and held his beer can up in a salute before taking a long pull.
Bishop pfft’d.
“Don’t be jealous, B,” Mike sing-songed.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Bishop scoffed. “And why the hell would I be jealous of you?”
Mike stood with his legs braced apart and his arms crossed over his barrel chest. “Because I’m hotter than you.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“I’m bigger than you.”
“I got you by a quarter inch.”
“My lover’s freakier than yours.”
“But she can’t cook to save her life.”
“I cut grass better than you.”
“You’re smoking dope if you think that.”
“My dick’s bigger than yours.”
Bishop flipped his dad off, “It was cold outside that day.”
Mike busted out laughing and soon Bishop joined him. Edison’s mouth dropped open. Well, that was crazy. What kind of… Wait! Go back. How in the world would Mike know about my freakiness… or lack thereof? Edison slapped his forehead. Kill me now, lord. When Bishop said he and his dad had a unique relationship… he wasn’t kidding. Did they really have to discuss everything?
Chapter Forty-Eight
Bishop
He knew Mike was glad that he had let him meet Edison, but Bishop had been worried his dad would start running his mouth and spill some shit that he wasn’t ready to have out there. But, so far so good, and Edison didn’t appear to be too appalled by his and his Mike’s casual relationship. While his dad watched Edison start to combine the ingredients into a round, flat pan, Bishop opened the laptop and clicked on the solitaire app.
It wasn’t long before Edison had their trailer smelling like a Philly steak shop. Bishop’s stomach growled but no one heard it over Mike’s incessant questions.
“Now, how do I know when the meat is done?”
Bishop pressed his fingers into his temples. Now his dad was practically hijacking his evening. He’d hoodwinked Edison into making his dinner for him and now they’d been stuck there an hour and a half. They had to work in the morning and Bishop still wanted some alone time. However, Edison looked completely at ease and laughed and joked around with Mike as if he was having the best date ever.
“It’s beef. You can leave a bit of pink in the center if you want,” Edison said then dumped the plate of onions and peppers into the steaming pan, then covered the pot again. He wiped his fingertips on some paper towels then started shaving the skin off one of the extra red peppers.
“What are you doing now?” Mike asked.
“Making a garnish,” Edison answered.
“I don’t think I need all that.”
“Of course you do.” Edison shook his head. “You’ll see.”
Bishop kept stealing glances at Edison’s ass in those black jeans, wanting nothing more than to walk over to the stove and press himself against him like he did when they were at his house. Edison loved it when Bishop fondled him while he was cooking. But he’d behave and not embarrass his old-fashioned boyfriend by groping him in front of his only parent. After another twenty minutes, Edison announced that the rice was done, and he could show Mike how to plate it for his lady. He literally said that… and Bishop felt himself falling.
Mike slapped Edison in the center of his back making his eyes shoot open wider. “Nice work. This looks fucking great! But she’ll never believe I made it. No way.” Mike laughed.
“She will if you plate it and present it to her… she won’t question a thing. It’s all about the presentation.” Edison nodded with one brow raised.
Mike appeared intrigued… so was Bishop. He always praised Edison for how delicious the food was, but he didn’t think how much additional effort Edison went into not only making the dish taste good, but also making it look beautiful. It was the way he displayed his affection. Bishop had abandoned his game a long time ago, mesmerized by Edison’s movements as he pulled one of their real plates from the cabinet—not a paper one—and set it on the counter.