Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Well true. Your last guy was a real piece of—”
“Don’t. I’m not in the mood,” Bishop said as they walked into the IHOP. The cool air and the sweet scent of pancake batter rushed to welcome them. His stomach growled right on cue.
He was glad it wasn’t busy for a Monday morning. Trent stood at the hostess stand behind an elderly couple, with his hands in his pockets. Bishop glanced around the restaurant trying not to look so obvious, but he obviously failed because as soon as they were seated with their menus Trent cocked his head at him. His tone was low, his eyes on his menu. “What are you looking for?”
Bishop spread his legs and leaned farther into the booth, making himself comfortable. Even after being out for six months Trent stayed on alert, regardless of the fact there was no longer a target on their backs. “Nothing, calm down. I was just checking out the place.”
“Hm.” Trent glanced around a second, frowning, before going back to his menu. “Still don’t think we should be late for work. We could’ve just grabbed a couple chicken biscuits at Hardee’s or something. Why are we in a restaurant? We look like we’re on a fucking date.”
Bishop sniffed. “You wish. Look. I felt like a decent breakfast since I had to sit in the damn Breaks all night. Since I had to make a pride-swallowing deal with Sly to keep Jessup off your ass.”
Trent looked momentarily sorry as he gnawed on his thin bottom lip until it was red. “Man, fuck Jessup.”
“Oh yeah,” Bishop deadpanned. “Fuck Jessup? Him and his entire crew, huh? All of Diggs Park.”
Trent dropped his menu and slumped in the seat. It was hard when a man realized he’d lost all power on the street. Especially if it was all he’d ever known. It was like being cast out of a family and forced to sever all contact. There were bound to be some withdrawals.
“What do we got to fuck him with, Trent? Mind control?” Bishop clenched his jaw as he leaned over the table, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “We’re not even able to carry a damn slingshot unless we’re violating the terms of our release. So yeah. How exactly do you plan to fuck Jessup? In the ass? Because you’ve got nothing else to do anything with.”
Trent cringed. “All right, all right. You don’t have to be that graphic.”
“I want you to get that guy out of your head. He’s bad news, T.” The veins in Bishop’s forearms bulged from his struggle to keep his temper at bay. “Now I’ve spent my last damn night in a cell, T. Do you understand?”
Trent stared Bishop in his eyes.
He narrowed them, and growled lower, “Do you got it? Because if you go back again… you’re going without me.”
Trent had to know he was serious. And Bishop hated that he had to be so stern, but for some reason his best friend wasn’t comprehending. They were done. And as Trent let that realization settle into his spirit, he wilted as if the awareness of it all was too much.
“Look, I was told that a wise man once said, ‘Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose.’ Meaning we’re in charge of our future’s victories and defeats. There’s nothing we can do about the past.”
“Great, here you go again,” Trent mumbled, grabbing his menu and aggressively flipping the pages. “Don’t start getting deep on me, Lord Bishop. We all didn’t have a super-woke cellmate like you. I was too busy trying to keep my ’celly off my dick.” Trent got a faraway look in his eyes. “Damn, that dude was thirsty.”
“Good morning, how you guys doing? I’m Natalie, I’ll be taking care of you today. What can I get you started to drink? Coffee, juice?”
Bishop finally picked up his menu, giving the waitress a slight nod. She was thin and small, but most people were compared to him. Her eyes would probably be pretty if they weren’t shrouded by heavy dark blue make up and coal-black liner that spread out from the corners of her eyes into a razor-sharp spike.
“I’ll have coffee. The blacker the better, and a water,” Trent said, then got up and headed towards the back of the restaurant. Bishop assumed he was going to the restroom.
“And for you?” She smiled, her dramatic eyes scanning his chest before moving up to his face.
He wondered if she’d still look at him with such lust if she knew where he’d been the last five years. Most likely not. Wouldn’t matter if she did, because he was as gay as gay could be. But, the men hadn’t been any different. Of course, no one from their old hood wanted to be associated with him, and he’d had no luck with meeting anyone from a different city. All he’d had time to do was work, anyway. Bishop ignored their server’s flirtatious smile and mumbled he’d have the same as Trent.