Chapter 16 #2
“You’ve got a good man out there,” Elise said softly. “He loves you.”
Taylor tilted her head, curiosity sparking. “How do you know Brooks? He said you owed him a favor.”
Elise’s eyes dropped, a flicker of something tender and sad flashing across her face. Taylor noticed immediately.
“Sorry,” Taylor said gently. “Didn’t mean to pry.”
Elise hesitated, then stepped inside, lowering her voice like she was sharing something sacred.
“His mom was my best friend. We grew up together—pigtails and pedal pushers. When she passed, it shook me. I was lost for a while, going through the motions. Brooks showed up out of nowhere one day and told me he wanted to invest in my dream. He said, ‘My momma would’ve wanted you to live out loud.’ And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. ”
Taylor’s eyes glossed over. “That sounds like him,” she whispered.
Elise smiled. “He’s his mother’s son through and through. Quiet, always thinking ten steps ahead, always pouring into somebody. But the way he looks at you?” She stepped closer. “That’s a man who’s home . Don’t second-guess that kind of love just because it’s different. The good ones usually are.”
Taylor swallowed, nodding. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”
“Just take your time,” Elise said, pulling the curtain gently open.
Taylor stood there a beat longer, letting Elise’s words settled on her shoulders—warm, heavy, and hard to ignore. Then she exhaled and stepped back into her shoes, both literally and metaphorically. She stepped from behind the curtain and Brooks was waiting for her at the door to exit.
He extended his hand and she grabbed it pulling it to her chest.
“What next my love? ”
“I got a surprise for you later,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers.
She was too weak from shopping to press for answers. They sat close to each other as they rode back to the hotel. It was silent but that was ok. They were just enjoying each other being close.
Back at the hotel, the shopping bags littered the foyer. She didn’t know how she was going to get all of this stuff home. A yawn crept out of her throat. The champagne buzz had faded. She was full. Content.
Then came a knock.
Taylor looked at him. Brooks shrugged.
She padded to the door and pulled it open.
“Mrs. Bishop? We’re ready for you at the spa.”
She turned slowly, a slow smile spread across her face as she looked back at him.
“Mrs. Bishop, huh?”
Brooks didn’t even blink as he came closer to send her on her way. “What y’all Christians be saying? Name it and claim it?”
She grinned, leaned down to kiss his cheek, and whispered, “Keep talking like that, you gon’ mess around and make it true.”
He smirked, pulling her close, and placed a kiss to her lips, “That’s the goal.”
Taylor laughed, something unburdened falling from her frame. He’d thought of everything.
∞∞∞
Taylor took her time getting ready. She was so relaxed. The spa was perfect, the best sleep she’d got in a long time. She was excited about being outside. Brooks was keeping his promise at every turn. She couldn’t wait to thank him properly later.
She’d decided to wear a leather corset top, leather capri pants, and a matching leather trench coat. Her makeup was bolder now rich red lip, soft highlight, sharp wing. She wasn’t trying to be cute. She was trying to be unforgettable.
Brooks stepped inside and froze.
He didn’t speak. His eyes did the talking. Then came the low whistle, followed by a quiet, “Fuck the rest of the night.”
She smiled, one shoulder rising. “Too much?”
“Nah,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes dragging from her lips to her heels and back again. “That’s just right.”
She gave herself one last glance in the mirror.
“You sure I’m dressed for this surprise?”
Brooks laced his fingers with hers, leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“You dressed to ruin lives. Fuck you mean.” His voice dropped lower. “Let’s get outta here, so we can hurry up and get back.”
A breathy laugh slipped out as she turned away. “Brooks, stop it. You’re making me blush.”
He chuckled under his breath, then grabbed her hand, leading her out the door and toward the elevator.
He kept her close as they rode down, his hand on her back, he couldn’t stop touching her. When they stepped out into the night, he pulled her even closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.
And every few steps?
He stole a kiss .
Every time she looked away, every time her guard dropped just enough, he was there.
He couldn’t help himself.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going?” She asked as they slid into the backseat.
“Patience,” he murmured, his hand finding her thigh.
The car eventually pulled up to the Denver Performing Arts Complex, but instead of heading toward the symphony hall, Brooks guided her to a smaller theater where a crowd dressed in everything from streetwear to formal attire was gathering.
“What is this?” Taylor asked, taking in the diverse, stylish crowd.
He slipped two VIP passes from his pocket. “It’s Concrete Composed: The West Coast Hip Hop Orchestra. One-night-only. Full orchestra. All ‘90s West Coast classics, and other shit reimagined.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re serious?”
He gave her that signature smirk, smooth and smug in all the right ways. “When I saw Too $hort was on the program, I knew we had to come. Seemed a little too perfect of a coincidence, for me to miss it.”
She blinked. “You remembered…”
“I remember everything you tell me,” He said, and it wasn’t performative. Just fact.
His hand found the small of her back as they were escorted to their seats. Inside, they settled into plush seats, they had a perfect view of the stage. The space buzzed locals talking and catching up. This was black excellence, and she loved it.
The lights dimmed, and the first notes of an orchestral arrangement of “California Love” filled the theater. Taylor’s eye grew wide as strings and brass transformed the familiar beat into something both nostalgic and completely new.
“This is incredible,” she breathed, eyes wide as a soprano’s voice soared over the melody in place of Tupac’s verses.
Brooks wasn’t watching, well not the stage at least. “Yeah, it is.”
She turned to find his eyes on her, intense and unwavering. “You’re staring.”
“Appreciating,” he corrected with a slow smile.
The orchestra moved seamlessly through Snoop, Dre, and Cube, each arrangement bringing something new while never disrespecting what made the originals hit.
When they broke into “Blow the Whistle”, Taylor couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face, or the way her hips moved to the rhythm she knew by heart. The classical flip made it feel grown.
Just vibes.
During intermission, they stayed in their seats.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said softly, leaning into his side. “For all of this. The weekend isn’t even over. I just feel good.”
Brooks reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I love when you get to be and do what you want.”
Taylor swallowed, the truth of his words settling deep in her chest. “And what do I want, Brooks Bishop?”
“Permission to be messy. To make mistakes.” His voice dropped lower. “To be loved, treated, and fucked like the grown woman you are.”
He said simply, as the orchestra ended their performance with a haunting rendition of “Keep Ya Head Up” that made her throat tight.
“And FYI, I can handle all that for you.”
She blinked back sudden tears, but also very turned on. She was overwhelmed by how he completely turned her world upside down any time he opened his mouth.
The performance was over and they were back in the car.
She was beaming, humming, and inspired. The performance was amazing.
Breathtaking. It was beautiful. She sang, threw a little ass, held his hand, kissed him, as he leaned to kiss her at times.
They were literally in their own world. But it always felt like that.
“Tell me about the dispensary. The one your friend is opening.”
Brooks allowed the pivot, launching into stories about Slim’s business venture and their longtime friendship. Taylor listened, fascinated by this glimpse into his world the legitimate businessman who still honored the hustle that got him there.
As night fell fully over Denver, they made their way back to the hotel, the city alive around them.
When they finally returned to the hotel, the night air had turned colder, but Taylor barely felt it.
She was warm from the inside out, glowing with good food, good music, and the way Brooks made her feel like a lady.
In the elevator, he pulled her close, his lips finding that sensitive spot below her ear that made her shiver. “You enjoy yourself tonight?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against her skin.
“Yeah, I always do when I’m with you.”
Back in their suite, Brooks took his time undressing her, his hands moving with purpose as they peeled away her clothing.
His hands slid down her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hips, he couldn’t get enough.
His lips found the hollow of her throat, kissing it gently before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin.
A shiver ran through her, her body listening to her master.
“Taylor...” His voice was low, almost hesitant.
She kissed him before he could say more soft, but sure. No space for doubt.
Forehead to forehead he looked at her.
“Tell me you done running from me,” he murmured against her lips. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he needed the confirmation, reassurance.
Taylor tilted her head back. Her eyes found his.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, shaky but certain.
She paused. Looked deeper. Fear was written all over his face. Sitting behind his eyes like he was bracing for her to disappear again but praying she didn’t.
Her voice steadied. “Brooks... I want this. You gotta trust me too.”
He looked at her searching for the truth or deception. He hoped he could believe her this time. Trust wasn’t something he gave up freely but he was trying.