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I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he’s serious. This actually works perfectly with the whole idea Pattie proposed, but I’m still reasonably wary. “Why wouldn’t you ask your brother? Unless he doesn’t actually exist.”
“He exists; he can’t drive me, though.” He fidgets, adjusting his stance again. Perspiration breaks across his forehead. I wonder if it’s pain induced or caused by embarrassment, or something else.
“Can’t you wait until he gets home?” It would be far less awkward than being stuck in a car with me.
“He’s home. He doesn’t have a license.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t offer more information, and I don’t press for it. “Yeah, I guess I can help you pick up your car. You wanna go now?”
“You can eat your pizza first.” He motions to the box, which I’m still holding.
“That’s okay. I went out with friends after work and we ordered appetizers, so I’m not super hungry right now. Let me put this in the fridge and grab my purse. Unless you want a slice or something?”
“Uh, no, thanks. That combination of toppings is pretty gag worthy.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I leave him standing in the hall, put the pizza in the fridge, and consider stopping in the bathroom to make sure I look okay but decide against putting in the effort, since he’s not asking for help for any reason other than I’m convenient.
He’s leaning against the wall, head bowed with his phone in his hand, when I come back out. “The Uber will be here in a couple of minutes.”
“Great.”
The ride down to the lobby is awkward. He leans against the mirrored glass with his eyes closed and breathes heavily through his nose.
“Are you okay?”
He cracks one lid. “Yeah. I’ll be better when I’m sitting down again.”
I don’t bother with more chitchat on the short trip to the lobby. The Uber is already waiting. Bishop opens the door and motions for me to get in. I guess he does have some manners.
“Why don’t you go first?” I suggest.
He looks like he wants to argue but decides against it. He lowers himself slowly into the back seat and grunts as he lifts each leg in, folding himself into the sedan. He’s huge and it’s a Civic, so there isn’t a ton of room for his long legs or the rest of his body.
I lay the crutches over his lap and get in on the other side, putting me behind the driver. The arena isn’t terribly far from the apartment, and rush-hour traffic is long over. During the short trip our Uber driver tells us all about his plan to become a famous musician. He even hands me a postcard when we’re stopped at a light and proceeds to tell us he’s the lead singer of his band, and he plays the guitar. “You should totally come see the band this weekend.” His gaze shifts to Bishop in the rearview mirror, but Bishop’s eyes are closed. “You can bring your boyfriend too.”
I snort. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Bishop cracks a lid and eyes me from the side but doesn’t comment.
“Oh?” Uber Driver, whose name is Jett, according to the tag hanging from the rearview mirror, perks up. “Well, in that case maybe you wanna come see me play, and we can get a drink afterward?”
Bishop scoffs. “Are you seriously trying to pick her up?”
“Are you guys, like, a thing?” Uber Jett’s eyes dart from me to Bishop.
“No, but it’s pretty tacky, don’t you think? First of all, you have no idea what’s going on between us. Just because she told you I’m not her boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m not something. I’m not, but that’s beside the point.” Bishop’s annoyed gaze locks on the side of my face. “Also, what’s she gonna say when she’s trapped in this car with you until we get where we’re going? You’re almost forcing her to say yes, even if she doesn’t want to.”
“It’s really okay.” I pin Bishop with a “What the fuck?” look and slip the postcard in my purse.
“It’s really not,” Bishop says.
Thankfully, we pull into the arena parking lot, and Bishop gives him clipped, irritated directions to his car, ending whatever that was.CHAPTER 11
SMALL SPACES
Bishop
I don’t know why I’m being such an asshole to the Uber kid, other than he’s being ballsy with the way he asked out Rook’s baby sister. I’m tempted to one star him, but then he might one star me back.
He might one star me anyway. Not that I honestly give a shit.
Stevie doesn’t offer to help me get out of the car, which is a lot harder than getting in. Uber Kid takes off as soon as I close the door.
“Well, that was fun.” Stevie’s arms are crossed, and it draws attention to her perky tits, the nipples of which are burned into my memory for all eternity.
