Bishop

The Rocking Racers galas were started as a way to give back to society. The racing industry saw the profile they had built up in Booker and wanted to use it to do some good. Or so I read in a brochure once. My father, on the other hand, saw it as an opportunity to flaunt his power, prestige, and to make every one of his competitors jealous of what he had. As well as a nice tax deduction. He couldn’t care less about doing good or giving back.

Standing behind the big, fancy podium, he can barely disguise his glee at being the centre of attention.

“I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” he starts. “I know this is a new event, but it seems to work well for that other lot across the ditch, so why wouldn’t it work for us?” There’s a smattering of polite laughter and applause. “After all, our talent is just as good as theirs, am I right?” This time the applause is louder. “My own son being a prime example of that as reigning BMX Big Air and Vert champion at the Extreme Games.”

Notice I’m not mentioned by name, just “my son.” I shouldn’t be surprised really. I’m not a person to be loved, just a treasure to be trotted out to make him look good.

“Of course, his success was all due to the opportunities presented to him. The kids we’re aiming to help tonight don’t have them, but maybe now they will.” More polite applause. “I’ve worked hard in my life and my son has been the beneficiary of that. It thrills me that through the money we raise tonight we’ll able to fund more promising athletes. The scholarships we create will allow them to take their careers to the next level. Hopefully, they take this chance and run with it; we’d love to see many more success stories in the years to come. And who knows,” he adds, “perhaps one of them may bring us even more success than my son.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about, finding a replacement for me. One that will bring him more success and ultimately more glory. Well, good. Let them take on the responsibility for upholding his standards and performing to his expectations. Maybe tonight will go better than I had dared to hope.

For the moment Jake and I are acting as if we’re nothing more than the best friends everyone knows us as—above the table. Below it, we’re a mass of wandering hands and semihard dicks.

Once the dinner and speeches portion of the night is over, the mingling begins. Jake gives me a look and I know it’s now or never. Squeezing his hand for good luck and a bit of comfort, I get up.

When I find my father, he’s lapping up the praise of a group of associates. Guys whose faces I know, but names I couldn’t be bothered to learn.

“Ah, Bishop,” he says when he sees me.

“Jonah,” I say, nodding.

“It’s good to see you here. I want everyone to see what incredible talent our country has nurtured.”

“Yep, that’s me, incredible talent,” I reply. My sarcasm is missed. “Anyway, can I talk to you?” I ask my father.

He gives me a look but excuses us anyway. I lead him towards an alcove near a window. On our way, Alvin Toohey, a prominent gay businessman in Auckland, stops us.

“Oh, Jonah,” he says, “I just wanted to tell you what a wonderful thing I think you’re doing with this gala.”

“Thank you,” my father says stiffly.

“And Bishop,” Alvin says, turning to me, “such a handsome young man, and so accomplished too. Your mother would be so proud of you. Both of you,” he adds, turning again to my father.

“Th-thank you,” I manage to squeeze out through the lump in my throat.

Alvin gives me a smile. “Your mother was an amazing woman. It looks as if she passed that down to you.”

“You’re very kind,” I say as my father clenches his jaw. I guess he doesn’t like the idea of his loser son being compared to his precious wife. With a squeeze of my arm, Alvin’s off.

“That fag,” my father says once he’s out of earshot.

“He’s one of your peers. Need I remind you that you were the one who invited him here?”

“I invited his chequebook, not his queer tendencies.”

“Unfortunately one comes with the other.”

Jonah huffs. “So what was so important you had to drag me from my networking?”

I blow out a breath and look towards the ballroom doors. As I do, Jake exits and a smile crosses my face. My father follows my attention.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you bother with that one,” he says.

I snap my head back to face my father. “Who? Jake? He’s my friend,” I say.

He laughs a bitter laugh. “If that’s all you think he is, then you’re dumber than I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, what do you mean?” Jake asks as he reaches us. I want to reach out and touch him, hold his hand, do something, but I’m frozen. Jake doesn’t have that problem though, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“I told you,” my father says, disgust lacing his voice and his eyes.

“Told me what?” I ask.

“That eventually he’d get his claws into you.”

“Yes,” Jake says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “It was all part of my evil gay agenda, to make your son, your incredible, lovable son, fall into my trap so that we could then rub it in your face.”

Jonah nods. “I always knew there was something not right with you, Ellis.”

“Why? Because I like men or because I like your son?”

“Take your pick.”

Jake shakes his head. “What a sorry excuse for a human being you are.”

My father shrugs. “It’s all a matter of standards. I happen to have some.”

Jake looks to me, and I know my silence has been deafening for him, but I can’t. My throat has seized up and I’m starting to sweat like meat in a hangi.

“Bish,” he says, pleading with me.

“Yes, Bishop, say something.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

Jonah laughs. “See?” he says, turning to Jake, “your efforts are wasted. He’s nothing but a waste of time and space.”

“You’re wrong,” Jake says.

It’s killing me that he’s defending me while I stand here, mute. I promised him today would be the day I finally tell my father everything and I can’t do it. A tear slips down my cheek.

“Your son is the most amazing person I have ever met. He is caring and passionate. He has a soft heart, and for whatever reason, he loves you and hates the thought of disappointing you.”

“He’s done nothing but disappoint me. It seems that’s the only thing he excels at,” Jonah replies.

“How can you say that?” Jake asks.

My father shakes his head. “Results don’t lie. Team after team, competition after competition, all of them ending the same way, with Bishop left behind. If only I could do the same.”

Jake shakes his head. “Come on, Bish, let’s go,” he says, defeat written all over his beautiful face.

“Yes, Bishop, go with your faggy little friend, it’s not like you could disappoint me any more tonight.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” I ask him, finally finding my voice.

He turns to face me fully. “Because you have been nothing but a drain on my resources. Originally I thought I was doing the right thing, getting you into BMX. As a boy, you seemed to enjoy it, so I thought, why not encourage that? It was exciting and up and coming at the time, and I knew it would be something I could lord over everyone else, something I had that they didn’t. Then you started competing. It didn’t take long for me to realise that you didn’t have the balls to match it with the top guys, but then I was stuck, you see. I couldn’t stop supporting you, not after making such a big deal about how fantastic my son was, so I had to keep pretending how proud I was, and paying your bills. Your apartment, your car, clothes, whatever you wanted I paid for. And I had to keep doing it and keep doing it. Even through all those teams, I was there but at every turn, I was let down. You are a bad investment, Bishop, and that’s backed up by who you choose to spend your time with.”

“Jake has been my friend since I was six years old,” I remind him.

“I never liked him. If I could, I would’ve kept you two apart, but I slipped up.”

“Is that what you want me to do then? Cut my ties with Jake?”

He looks up, finally a look of pride on his face. “Yes.”

“And if I do, you’ll bring me back into the fold, accept me as your son?” As I’m saying the words, I’m deliberately not looking at Jake. I can’t. I don’t want to see the devastation I know is going to be written all over his face.

“Yes, I will,” Jonah answers.

“And if I don’t?” I ask.

“Then we’re done.”

“As simple as that?”

He nods. “As simple as that.”

“So there would be absolutely no more relationship between us, right? We’d just be two ordinary people.”

“You would be ordinary. I, however, could never be less than extraordinary.”

I scoff and hide my small smile. “Right, of course.”

“What’ll it be?” Jonah asks.

Looking at Jake, I see the pain written all over his face. With a quick wink at him, I then face my father. “I choose Jake.”

There are gasps, but I can’t tell who they’re from.

“Bishop,” Jake says, but the man who was formerly my father talks over him.

“That’s it then?” he asks.

I nod. “Yep. I’d say it was nice knowing you, but we both know it wasn’t.”

“Bishop,” Jake says, “think about what you’re doing. I love you but this—”

I put a finger over his lips. “Shhh, Jakey. This is what I want to do, what I need to do. In fact, I probably should’ve done it a long time ago.”

Tears pool in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” I say, as I brush one of them away as it rolls down his cheek.

He shakes his head.

“It will, I promise. Come on, let’s get out of here.”