Bishop was silent for a couple of beats. When he answered, his voice was quiet. "Nothing."
From the look on his face, it was a lot more than nothing. I softened my approach. "She's different. I like her. Really like her. Don't fuck this up for me."
"Why?" he said. "Because she's got a pulse?"
"No," I said, working hard to keep my cool. "And I told you, stop being a dick about it."
"I'll stop being a dick when you stop being stupid."
"So," I said, stepping toward him, "I can fuck Brittney and Amber and whoever else shows up from one side of the house to the other, and you don't say jack. But when there's someone I really like, you're an asshole about it. Is that how it is?"
In truth, I hadn't fucked anyone tonight, but that wasn't the point. He knew damn well where I'd been going when I left him earlier, and he sure as hell hadn't tried to stop me. So, why was he stopping me now?
"Don't forget," Bishop said, his voice rising now, too, "that I'm the one who got rid of them for you. So maybe you should be thanking me instead of giving me shit."
Yeah, it was true. He'd gotten rid of them. But he'd also given Chloe a hard time. He'd made her uncomfortable. He'd made her feel unwelcome. That wasn't gonna fly, tonight or ever. And it especially wasn't going to fly if he sat around bringing up other girls.
"Listen," I told him, "if you say one word to Chloe about Brittney – or any other girl – you can get in your car and leave right now."
"Yeah? Well, what about our little side venture?" Bishop asked. "Planning to handle it alone?"
There was this guy we knew, a hustler from the north end, who'd been serving up underage girls to his customers, out-of-towners mostly, who liked them young. We were planning on paying that guy a visit. But that wasn't until tomorrow.
"That has nothing to do with this," I said.
"You know she wouldn't like it," Bishop said. "Girls like that never do."
"That has nothing to do with her."
"You know what?" Bishop said. "Maybe youshouldjust go ahead and fuck her."
"What?"
"Yeah," Bishop said. "Go ahead, I'll wait."
"What the hell'sthatsupposed to mean?"
"It means," he said, "the sooner you have her, the sooner you'll move on."
"Not with her. She's different."
"'Cause she's supposedly the neighbor?" Bishop said. "Yeah, that's real smart."
If I stayed one more minute, Iwouldhit him. And how would that look to Chloe when I went upstairs, dragging Bishop's carcass behind me? I paused. Or vice-versa.
Whatever his problem was, I wasn't going to let him ruin this for me. "We done here?"
"Almost," he said. "Listen, I didn't want to say anything, but while you two were doing whatever, I checked out her house."
My jaw was tight. "Youwhat?"
"Get pissed all you want," Bishop said. "But hear me out. She's not just some neighbor girl. I don’t know what her story is. But she doesn't live there, never has."
My voice was quiet, probably too quiet. "And you know this, how?"
"I saw her driver's license."
I stepped forward. "Justhowdid you see her license?"
