Bishop

On the flight back to Auckland I should be sweating bullets, scared shitless about what my dad is going to say about me being cut from the team, but I’m not. I should be worried about what I’m going to do now or at least be thinking about my next move, but I’m not.

All I’m thinking about is seeing Jake. He’s everything I want in a partner. Kind and generous, caring and funny; he’s perfect. Six feet of perfection. Dark-blond hair, blue eyes, built like he was meant to be on the cover of those books I see but don’t read. Okay, maybe I read a few. He’s clueless about how I feel about him, and that’s the way I want it. It’s the way it has to be. I work hard to make sure that’s the way it is, even though it kills me every time he brings a guy home. I lie there wishing it was me he’s with, but I know I can’t, no matter how much I want it to be.

My dad, the esteemed Jonah Royal, would flip his lid if he even had an inkling I was interested in men. He and I have an interesting relationship. He’s tough and unrelenting, with impossible standards, but he’s all I’ve got besides Jake. My mum died when I was twelve. From that time on, my father morphed into this monster with a laser focus on total business domination. He had no time for me or anything that didn’t make him look good. As a kid who just lost a large part of his world, naturally I was desperate for any attention he would give me.

That’s continued today and goes a long way in explaining how I ended up in this mess. Everything I do is to please my father, to keep me towards the forefront of his attention, to remind him not everything he had died in that car twelve years ago. I’ll do pretty much anything he wants me to do. I know a lot of it makes me look like a dick, but I crave his approval so much. My driving force since my mum died has been for him to be proud of me, to be proud to acknowledge me as his son, as someone worthy of having the Royal name.

Which means I do what I have to do. I play a part and I do it well. Women appeal to me, how can they not? There’s never a shortage of beautiful women hanging around whatever tour I happen to be on at the time. They just aren’t my preferred choice of partner. Still, I am Bishop Royal and I have standards to uphold. None more so than in Vegas with my now former teammate’s girlfriend. I’ve been competing against Jax for years. I still remember when he came on the scene as a fresh-faced fourteen-year-old. God, he was a cocky arse, but he had the talent, and support, to back that up. For the longest time, I was jealous of him. I still am if I’m honest. Jax has everything I wanted. A loving and supportive family, people who love him unconditionally, as well as a fuckload of talent. He’s everything I wanted to be—and hell, maybe I still want that. I remember the shock of seeing him on Dean’s plane, wearing DeanStar colours. I was so used to him being surrounded by his family, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world. It all just seemed so wrong, especially given the hot piece of arse sitting next to him. He had everything he needed with his family, so why ride for Dean? It just didn’t make sense. So when I saw Bentley head towards the bathrooms at that club, I made sure I followed her. I got to piss off Jax, maybe get him to see how far he’d fallen with Dean, and keep my image intact by going after his girl. Three birds, one stone.

I hate hiding who I am, but I don’t have a choice. Especially if I want my dad to continue to be interested in my life. It’s not much, but at least it’s something. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter who I’m rumoured to be sleeping with, or how many medals I win; I’ll never be good enough, in his eyes at least, to have the Royal name. Every now and then I consider just giving up, throwing it all away, but then I remember Mum, her beautiful tanned skin, her brown eyes, so full of love and comfort, and I try again. I know she’d want me to do that. I also know she wouldn’t want me to be miserable, but is the life I’m living really so bad? I don’t have to work a day job; I travel the world, ride for a few hours, then party the night away. It’s not bad, not really. Then I come home to Jake. Yes, we may not be together like I want, but I still get to see him, hear him sing in the shower every morning, and watch him dance to bad eighties’ tunes as he makes breakfast. I still get to be near him and be near my dad. It’s not the best of both worlds, but it’s as good as I’m going to get.

Really, what good would come out of pissing my dad off? No one in their right mind would go up against Jonah. One of New Zealand’s premier businessmen, he didn’t get there by playing nice. It’s all about as much money and power as he can get, and he always gets what he wants. That’s how I got into freestyle BMX in the first place. He saw a documentary on extreme sports stars and decided he wanted a connection. I was always tooling around on a bike or skateboard, or anything with wheels really, so I guess it was a natural conclusion I would be that connection. I didn’t mind. At the time I was a sixteen-year-old kid who was trying to avoid any and all responsibility. Hell, I’m still trying to avoid responsibilities, only now I’m twenty-four and have realised I can’t run forever. I can’t hide forever, and I’m okay with that. I think I’m going to take getting cut from the DeanStars as an opportunity to reassess my life direction and all that hippy mumbo jumbo shit. You know, finally take my life by the balls.

It’s going to start right here, at the office for Royal Incorporated.

My father sits behind an imposing desk, wearing an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, his green eyes as shrewd as ever. It’s ironic that as much as my father may wish never to be associated with me, he’ll never be able to do so because of our looks. In almost every way, we’re alike. Same dark brown hair, same green eyes, and we even have a similar build. Except for one thing. My skin colour is slightly darker than his, a trait passed down from my mother’s part-Maori heritage.

“Bishop,” he says as I take a seat opposite him.

“Jonah.” I haven’t called him Dad in forever. Not since he became a member of the New Zealand Order of Merit. He said that as he was on the path to knighthood, it wouldn’t look regal to be called Dad, so Jonah it was. I guess it’s better than sir.

“I see you’ve gone and got yourself kicked off yet another team. What does this make? Five? Six?”

I shouldn’t be surprised he already knows. He’s got spies everywhere. Hell, he probably knew Dean was planning on swinging the axe before I even walked into his office.

“Three. DeanStars was my third team.”

“Hmph.”

“Really, I think it’s a blessing in disguise,” I say.

“Explain,” my father demands, a hint of intrigue in his voice.

“It’s a well-known fact Dean hates extreme sports. Sooner or later that disdain is going to bring him down. It’s better I’m out now than be brought down with him in six months.”

“It’s still not a good look that once again you’ve been dropped from a team.”

I shrug. “Freestyle BMX isn’t a team sport. I don’t see why I should have to be on one in the first place.”

“Because,” Jonah says, standing up, “you are supposed to compete together and use each other’s successes to boost your own profiles.” He shakes his head and moves to the large windows that overlook the harbour. “I should’ve known better than to put my faith in you. You have always been a disappointment. At this point, I think you always will be.” I try not to let his words get to me. After all, I’ve been hearing them my whole life. But as much as I can tell myself they don’t matter, I wonder if he’s right. “You were supposed to be my shining star, the jewel in the Royal crown, a gem no one else had. Instead you’re fat, lazy, and incompetent.”

I lift my shirt to show him my six-pack abs. “I’d hardly call this fat,” I say.

He turns and looks at me, disgust written all over his face. “What the hell are you doing? Anyone would think you’re one of those disgusting fags I see everywhere now. Why we allow them to get married, I’ll never know. You’re not turning into one, are you? It’s what they do you know, they fool you into thinking they’re nice and kind and before you know it you’re wearing pink shirts and waving those ridiculous rainbow flags. You need to keep an eye on that flatmate of yours, he’s after you, mark my words. You’re a big target. Bishop Royal turns gay, I can see the headlines now. You’d be better off kicking him out on the street where he belongs. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of company with his kind out there.”

There it is, ladies and gentlemen, the number one reason I keep my feelings for Jake buried. I’m fine with being a failure and a screw-up in my father’s eyes, I can even ignore his bigoted opinions, because at least he’s in my life. This way, he and Jake are both in my life. Since I don’t have a lot, I’ve got to keep what I do have close, even if he is a bigoted arsehole.

My father shakes his head and turns back to the window. “I don’t know what I expected, really. You’ve always been weak. This is just one more example of it showing through. Your mother—” I hold my breath. My mother died twelve years ago in a car accident. Since that day he’s never spoken about her, never allowed her to be spoken about. The fact that his thoughts allowed him to get this far show just how pissed off he is with me. Still, I can’t help but hope that he keeps on going, that he finally talks about her. To my disappointment, he doesn’t.

“Once again you’ve let me down, Bishop. I wanted more from you. I expected more from you. You’re my blood, you have my name, you are representing this family and me. You have to do well. There is no other option.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask. “What are you going to do? Lecture me on how I’m supposed to do better? Be better? Because I’ve heard it several times before.”

“Then you should know better!” he shouts, a vein sticking out from the side of his neck.

“Or maybe you should realise I’m your son, not one of your employees,” I counter.

We look at each other, neither one of us willing to break the other’s stare.

“You are my son,” he reminds me.

“Exactly. I am your son, and nothing you can say or do will ever erase that fact. For the rest of your life, you’re going to have to live with me, bringing down our name. How does that make you feel, Jonah? Does it make you feel powerless? Helpless? Impotent even? Here you are, big man of Auckland society, everything you want, you get, but for the life of you, you can’t escape your connection to me. Every chance I get I’m going to remind you of that, Dad. I may be a disappointment to you, but you’ve been just as big one to me.” With that, I get up and walk out.