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“Okay,” Edison chuckled as he glanced over their shoulders, which were conspiratorially close. “And this friend of yours doesn’t happen to have a felony rap sheet a mile long, do they?”
Mike grimaced. I don’t think so. The charges Rayne had were probably all misdemeanors. “Nope. All good.”
Edison nodded. “Should be fine for a temp job, then. Can you tell them to come fill out an application tomorrow and I can do a quick interview?”
“No. I can’t tell him—it’ll be too obvious.” Mike frowned, talking more to himself. “He’ll know it was me.”
“You’re already being too obvious,” Bishop grated.
“I am not.” Mike kept his voice lower than the volume of the violent video game Trent had blaring in the living room.
“Being obvious about what?” Edison asked with a curious smile. “So who’s the friend?”
“See?” Mike pointed at Edison’s cluelessness. “He thinks I’m just helping a friend that needs a job.”
“And I think that’s quite admirable what you’re doing, Mike.” Edison’s gaze bounced back and forth between them. “It’s good for the soul to do for others.”
“Thank you, future son-in-law,” Mike said as sweetly as he could muster, earning himself a beaming smile.
Bishop sucked his teeth. “Eddie, you have no clue what he’s doing, do you?”
“Huh?”
Poor Edison. So trusting and innocent. Mike reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted out several twenty-dollar bills and shoved them into Edison’s palm.
Edison stared uncertainly at the wad of cash. “What’s this for?”
“My second favor.”
“Okay.”
“I need you to go to that huge bookstore in Town Center where you and my son like to go on Wednesday nights to get freaky in the mystery section and pick up what they have on yoga and that mindfulness shit.”
Edison flushed, spinning around to face Bishop as tawny red splotches appeared on his pudgy cheeks. “You—you told your dad about that?”
Bishop shot daggers at Mike before he tried to save his own ass. “Well, no… not like all of it. But maybe some—”
Edison swatted Bishop in the center of his chest, giving him a look that appeared to promise punishment later, and not the good kind.
Mike hurried to wrap up his transaction. “Edison, when you come to the trailer on Monday, just tell him that your secretary brought you the books she had, all right? Don’t bring ’em in a new bag or anything. Make them look used.”
“Why do you want me to come to the trail—” Edison slammed a hand over his mouth. “Holy moly.”
Mike and Bishop shook their heads as Edison finally seemed to catch up to what was happening, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.
“You… this is all for… are you doing this for Rayne, Mike?”
Mike sighed. “Damn, Edison, you’re lucky God gave you a phat ass because he sure as shit shorted you with brai—”
“Mike!” Bishop barked. “I’ll shatter your fuckin’ jaw if you finish that sentence.”
“Hey! What’s going on in there? And what’s taking so long with the cake?” Trent yelled, but no one answered.
Mike needed to wrap this shit up. “Just make it believable, Edison. Okay? I don’t think Rayne likes handouts.”
Edison had the cheesiest grin on his face that made Mike curse under his breath. “Don’t,” he muttered as Edison blushed harder.
“I just think it’s amazing. I didn’t know you were… that you…” Edison didn’t seem to know what label to give Mike, which was good because he never liked them anyway. He was just him.
