Page 44
Story: Bishop's Queen
“Bishop, give me a minute.” She stepped closer to the man. “What’s your name?”
“Stan, and dude, I’m sorry.” The guy was sidling up to her for a selfie. “This is really epic. I can’t believe this is what—oh! And I was supposed to tell you good luck this weekend.”
Bishop mopped at his face with his sleeve, unsuccessfully wiping away the green smears. “Good luck?”
“I guess at the Bloggies, right?” Stan asked. “You’re up foreverything.” He snapped a pic and shrugged. “It’s going to be so rad. Win everything, Ella. Win it all.”
“No, wait. That was awful. One more.” She cheesed it for another pic. “I plan to.”
“What else did he say to say?” Bishop pushed.
“That’s it.”
“Make sure to tag me, okay?” Because she wanted Tara looped in on the comments in case anything sketchy was said.
“And don’t mention the sliming part,” Bishop added. “Okay?”
Ella countered Bishop’s grumbling, trying to lighten up his death-and-destruction disposition. “I’ll make sure to say something on your pic too.” Yes, she agreed that the sliming part shouldn’t be mentioned, but they were on opposite ends of the spectrum on how to make that happen.
Bishop handed Stan his card. “This is my number. If anyone gets in touch with you about this, makes you another offer, follows up, whatever, you get in touch. Deal?”
Stan nodded.
“It’s important.”
“I get it, man.”
Bishop didn’t look convinced. “It’ll keep her from pressing charges.”
“Bishop!”
“Hey!” Stan balked. “I said I was sorry.”
“And give me your phonenow.”
Few people in the world wouldn’t have complied given the tone of that order, but if Bishop so much as deleted a single picture from that kid’s phone, Ella would have his gonads in a jar.
Instead, Bishop punched numbers, and a moment later, his phone rang. “I have your number. My number is programmed into yours. You have my card. There’s no excuse.”
“Got it.”
Bishop eyed Stan until he apparently believed it. “Anyone contacts you about Ella, you call me. Immediately. Read me?”
“Loud and clear, officer sir.”
“Christ,” he mumbled.
“It was great to meet you, Stan,” Ella offered. “Circumstances aside.”
Bishop seemed to ignore the remainder of the conversation, instead nudging the guy to leave.
“Don’t forget to tag me.” As soon as there was enough distance between them and Stan, she turned to Bishop. “You didn’t have to be rude.”
“Are you nice and accommodating to everyone but me?” he challenged. “Because really, it’s your life. I’m the one trying to keep you in one piece.”
She walked the remaining block and headed for the door, waving to the doorman as they passed. “You need a shower and to start making your calls, I’m sure. Or I can call Agent Byrd. I’m sure she’d love to hear about my goo incident. This will go far in having my case treated seriously.” Ella rolled her eyes. “I have to make sureyoudon’t wind up as part of the story. Tara is going to love that.”
He trailed behind. “Don’t you think the picture was pushing it too far?”
“Stan, and dude, I’m sorry.” The guy was sidling up to her for a selfie. “This is really epic. I can’t believe this is what—oh! And I was supposed to tell you good luck this weekend.”
Bishop mopped at his face with his sleeve, unsuccessfully wiping away the green smears. “Good luck?”
“I guess at the Bloggies, right?” Stan asked. “You’re up foreverything.” He snapped a pic and shrugged. “It’s going to be so rad. Win everything, Ella. Win it all.”
“No, wait. That was awful. One more.” She cheesed it for another pic. “I plan to.”
“What else did he say to say?” Bishop pushed.
“That’s it.”
“Make sure to tag me, okay?” Because she wanted Tara looped in on the comments in case anything sketchy was said.
“And don’t mention the sliming part,” Bishop added. “Okay?”
Ella countered Bishop’s grumbling, trying to lighten up his death-and-destruction disposition. “I’ll make sure to say something on your pic too.” Yes, she agreed that the sliming part shouldn’t be mentioned, but they were on opposite ends of the spectrum on how to make that happen.
Bishop handed Stan his card. “This is my number. If anyone gets in touch with you about this, makes you another offer, follows up, whatever, you get in touch. Deal?”
Stan nodded.
“It’s important.”
“I get it, man.”
Bishop didn’t look convinced. “It’ll keep her from pressing charges.”
“Bishop!”
“Hey!” Stan balked. “I said I was sorry.”
“And give me your phonenow.”
Few people in the world wouldn’t have complied given the tone of that order, but if Bishop so much as deleted a single picture from that kid’s phone, Ella would have his gonads in a jar.
Instead, Bishop punched numbers, and a moment later, his phone rang. “I have your number. My number is programmed into yours. You have my card. There’s no excuse.”
“Got it.”
Bishop eyed Stan until he apparently believed it. “Anyone contacts you about Ella, you call me. Immediately. Read me?”
“Loud and clear, officer sir.”
“Christ,” he mumbled.
“It was great to meet you, Stan,” Ella offered. “Circumstances aside.”
Bishop seemed to ignore the remainder of the conversation, instead nudging the guy to leave.
“Don’t forget to tag me.” As soon as there was enough distance between them and Stan, she turned to Bishop. “You didn’t have to be rude.”
“Are you nice and accommodating to everyone but me?” he challenged. “Because really, it’s your life. I’m the one trying to keep you in one piece.”
She walked the remaining block and headed for the door, waving to the doorman as they passed. “You need a shower and to start making your calls, I’m sure. Or I can call Agent Byrd. I’m sure she’d love to hear about my goo incident. This will go far in having my case treated seriously.” Ella rolled her eyes. “I have to make sureyoudon’t wind up as part of the story. Tara is going to love that.”
He trailed behind. “Don’t you think the picture was pushing it too far?”
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