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“It sounds like you and your dad are close,” Bishop said.
Edison nodded. “We were. He died of a heart attack a couple years ago. He… he was my best friend. My only friend, really.”
Bishop reached over and gently placed his hand over Edison’s and squeezed. He’d done it before he could second-guess it. It was difficult to see that kind of heartbreaking sadness on such a beautiful face. Edison set his napkin down, but he continued to speak in that mild tone, as he kept his eyes on the contact they shared. “He was a big man and I was just like him. He liked to eat. And I liked to feed him. We’d both lost quite a bit of weight after he was diagnosed with high blood pressure, but not enough I guess. He was a great father. The best. He worked hard to give me a good life and teach me differently than how kids are raised now. And I loved it. I never felt like I was missing anything by not being popular or social at school. The kids were jerks anyway. So, it was always me and him.”
“Where was your mom?” Bishop asked, wanting to know everything. He pulled his hand back, but not far. He shouldn’t’ve been getting so personal, but he hoped Edison wanted to get to know him as well.
“She died of an infection two days after I was born. I, of course, don’t remember her, but my father never remarried, and he told me stories of her all the time. He’d said she was his one and only.”
Bishop didn’t know what it was like to be raised that way, the way he’d always dreamed. While Edison had no mother, the same as him, they still had such different upbringings. Edison’s father had been a good role model and had made sure to surround his son with positive influences. “You said before that he had a barber shop.”
Edison’s somber expression morphed before Bishop’s very eyes. The gold in his irises sparkled as he started to speak. “Yeah. It was on First Colonial in Virginia Beach. It was in operation for forty years before he passed. I used to live and breathe that place, and everyone thought I’d take over for my pop when he passed, but I couldn’t. My uncle had to handle the selling because I couldn’t even go inside the building anymore after it’d happened. The place held too many memories. Even the smell of my father was in there. The scent of Topaz Elite aftershave and the sweet wood oil he used to clean the shoeshine stand was too much for me to deal with.” Edison huffed. “Besides, barbering was never my calling and my dad knew it. I was good at the craft, but I didn’t love it. I only like grooming myself, not random men all day long.”
“You do a real good job of it, if I may be so bold.” The mood was lighter now and Bishop was thankful.
Edison rolled his eyes, but his smirk was playful. “No, I don’t mind you being bold, Bishop.”
“So, you cut your own hair,” Bishop said disbelievingly.
“Yep. Since I was a teenager.” Edison drank the last of his iced tea. He’d only eaten half of his burger and a few fries before he’d pushed his plate away. Bishop kept eating. It was too damn good to discard the rest, and he didn’t know when he’d get an opportunity to eat another gourmet burger without it costing him twenty bucks.
“And this too.” Bishop touched the bottom of Edison’s jaw. He couldn’t help himself. “I’ve never seen a shave so close.”
Edison closed his eyes as if he was savoring the sensation. “I use a straight razor. Every day.”
“Oh damn.” Bishop’s brows rose. That’s pretty badass, right there. Edison was just full of surprises.
Chapter Twenty-One
Edison
Edison didn’t want Bishop to move his hands. Ever. He’d only used his fingertips to graze over his cheek, but it’d been enough to spark a fuse that’d been burned out for ages. His cock kept twitching excitedly the more Bishop spoke. He wasn’t as silent as Edison thought. Quite the opposite. It was as if Bishop couldn’t stop himself from asking questions. He made a point not to stutter when he met Bishop’s eyes. “So, um. Let’s see what you have for my yard. I can’t wait. I did tell you Fall is my favorite time of year, didn’t I?”
“I think you may have mentioned that,” Bishop rumbled, watching him so closely it made him nervous.
Edison moved their plates to the other end of the table and cleared some space for the large sketch pad Bishop had brought with him. It would probably have been more hospitable of him to clear the dirty dishes but he couldn’t stand in his current predicament. It was why he’d needed to steer their conversation towards work, because if Bishop kept staring at him that way, he was sure to make a fool out of himself.
