Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 42 - Going Through the Motions

***For my offline readers, this is a heads-up.  There is a continuity conflict with this chapter.  It's subtle, but it's still there.  I know it, I acknowledge it and I will deal with it later.  Right now, I'm trying very hard to get S&S over the finish line.  Kindly indulge me ♥***

Bishop leads me upstairs to his room.  As soon as we approach, I hear puppy-barks. 

“Sorry,” he tells me as he ushers me in, “I didn’t have time to line up a sitter this time.” 

The pug pups are the cutest things, with their bulging eyes and corkscrew tails.  They bite the bars of their crate with their little puppy-teeth and whine unmercifully. 

He opens the cage and they bound out, eager for attention. 

“So you two know each other?” I ask as I hang his coat over a chair. 

“We’ve met a couple of times,” Bishop agrees, “I don’t have anything personally against him – except for making you cry, of course.” 

I sit down on the sofa and immediately am accosted by two fluff-balls, both trying to jump up on me.  I scoop up one and Bishop grabs the other before sitting next to me. 

“You really got yourself in deep this time, didn’t you?” he asks me and I nod back miserably as the puppy leans up and starts licking my tears away. 

Bishop frowns and hands me the box of tissues on the side table, “I don’t know if getting a fifteen-hundred year old marriage annulled is even possible, Claire.  I’m so sorry.” 

“I know,” I nod again.  Both of our phones go off.  

Bishop checks his, “Excuse me a minute,” he says and deposits his puppy on the floor.  

I take my phone out of my purse and read Jill’s text: 

Don’t think money’s going to be a problem, babe.  Check your e-Bay bids. 

“Claire,” Bishop comes back out, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a pair of shoes up for sale on e-Bay, would you?” he asks me with an accusatory tone. 

“I needed to raise money,” I tell him, “Why – what’s the bid up to?” 

“Far less than they’re worth, but currently at ten million,” he glares at me, “Why in the world would you put something like that on e-Bay?  They’re not your grandma’s depression glass, you know.  You should have told me.  I would have arranged an auction with Christies,” he sighs, “As it is, e-Bay has suspended your lot pending investigation and verification.  They are simply not designed to handle such high-dollar items.” 

I’m staring at him – mouth slightly agape – and not paying any attention to the puppy, who is currently chewing on a lock of my hair.  “Ten million – dollars?” I choke out. 

“Yes, dollars,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “What in the hell do you need with that kind of money?” 

“I,” I swallow, “I was going to give you guys a presentation tomorrow and ask you to back me,” I shake my head in wonder, “How can they be worth that?  They’re just shoes.” 

“Drake bought me ten million dollar shoes?” I’m repeating in my head. 

“Weren’t you paying attention in France?” Bishop pulls the puppy away from my now thoroughly-chewed and slobbered-on hair. 

“I don’t speak French,” I tell him, still stunned, “I thought you said six thousand.” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me, “Take the offer down and I’ll make some calls,” he says, “How much were you looking for from us, anyway?”