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)
“I didn’t come here for a contact, Royce,” Bishop said between clenched teeth. He yanked his wallet out of his back pocket the moment the black billfold was placed in front of him. When he scanned down the check to the total, he almost spit out the last gulp of water. Eighty-six goddamn dollars! What the hell?
“I had the egg rolls, the gorgonzola ribeye and three martinis. I told you I could pay it myself,” Royce snarked.
Bishop pulled the bills out of his wallet, slipped it inside and got up to leave. “I hope all goes well with your classes, Royce. Goodbye.” When he was out of the door and back onto Market Street, Bishop felt like he could breathe again. He was drained and ready for this nightmare of a day to be done with. He supposed he could say it was semi-productive, because he’d gotten closure on the relationship he’d left wide open five years ago.
“Wait! Bishop.” Royce sounded incredulous as he hurried to catch up to him. “Are you really leaving? You don’t wanna… Look… why don’t you just come back to my place for tonight. Let me take care of you. I can at least do that.”
Did Royce think he was that desperate? That’d he take that fucking rudeness and abuse that he’d just dished out in that uppity restaurant then turn around and lay up in his bed. Just for his dick? Bishop’s willpower was a lot stronger than his flesh. He’d refused to fuck anyone in that damn prison no matter how blue his balls had gotten. There had been a few quick jerk sessions, but that was it. He had never been attracted to the hardheads in that place. Every day had been a struggle to keep his sanity and manhood.
Bishop didn’t have to think about it. He considered this to be another chapter closing. “Nah, I’m all right. But thanks, anyway.” Bishop held Royce’s eye contact as he leaned in and pecked his flushed cheek. His mouth dropped open as Bishop backed away. “Goodbye, Royce.”
Chapter Six
Edison
Edison hated that he kept running into Skylar on his way into the office. It was a pretty crappy way to start his day. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the guy waited for him to pull up before he popped up out of nowhere like bad acne. Everything he said rubbed him the wrong way. Skylar was the kind of man who insulted a person to their face and then tried to get them to laugh it off with him, basically laughing at themselves.
“What the hell? It looks like a freak show circus out here. How long do we have to put up with this?” Skylar said with attitude beside him as they walked up to their building. The construction men were still working to finish updating their irrigation system. “This is ridiculous! How are we supposed to get any work done with this racket?”
Since when do you worry about getting any work done? Skylar had a legal secretary he dictated everything to. He was lucky she was so competent and could carry his lazy behind. All Skylar did was prance up and down the office corridors gossiping and preening. He was a massive pain in Edison’s neck with the way he disrupted the flow of the office by interrupting others while working. He didn’t even want to get into the way he flirted with the junior staff. And it was rumored that he got away with not doing any work because Shirley Bickel, senior partner, sometimes used him to get off after a particularly stressful case. At least that was what Edison had heard around the water cooler before all conversation ceased when they noticed him walk in.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Edison droned.
“Sure hate you had to work late last night, man. You know Thursdays are poker night, why’d you have to pick that night to plan the budget? We missed those pigs in a blanket that you made the last time… with the sprinkles of gruda cheese in it.” Skylar energetically batted Edison’s shoulder with his hard forearm as they made their way towards the bank of elevators.
“Gouda cheese,” Edison mumbled. “And maybe the next time you guys ask me to make them, they’ll include an invite to poker night.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to play.” Skylar frowned. He pushed rudely past a man standing close to the doors, and jabbed at the already lit arrow.
“I don’t. But I’m a quick study. Poker is a game of skillful strategy. I like to think I have that quality.” Edison waved a couple of ladies past to enter the elevator before him, then stepped inside.
“Look, Edison. We don’t have time to teach classes. If you want to learn how to play the game of distinguished men then watch a YouTube video or something.” Skylar chuckled, smoothing his hand over the lapel of his suit.