Page 42 of That: Taylor & Brooks

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Tay... I own a place. And the club can go up on any day, especially a Tuesday.”

Her stomach dropped. Blake had never mentioned it, but then again, Brooks had been involved in so many businesses that it was hard to keep track.

“You own a strip club? What don’t you own, Brooks?”

She wasn’t judging, at least not this time. She was just fascinated. And honestly? A little turned on. Thiswas a man with ambition and passion.

Watching him work up close, really watching him, was a joy to see. He didn’t shy away from anything even when she was around. One moment he was checking a contractor about missed deadlines, the next he was on the phone with software engineers, tossing around language she barely understood. He made decisions fast. Spoke with precision. Walked into every room like he’d already defeated his giant.

She found herself looking forward to every conversation. Every phone call. Every slim finger he put up asking for her to hold on, glances that said he saw more than she let on.

And lately, if she was being honest? She couldn’t get enough of his company. He was the realest thing she had in her corner.

“Partly. Me and my boys own The After,” he confirmed, watching her reaction, reading every thought running through her head.

He added, casually, “Not your typical club, though. High-end, but still a good time.”

Taylor couldn’t tell if that made her more intrigued or more intimidated, probably both. Brooks stretched, stood up, and towered over her.

“Your move Tay, like I said, ain’t nothing stopping you but you.”

She bit her lip, going back and forth with herself. The responsible thing would be to laugh it off, go home, crawl into bed, and pretend this conversation never happened. However, she didn’t like him calling her bluff.

“Give me thirty minutes,” she blurted out. “I need to change.”

His smile was slow and dangerous. “I’ll be outside your place in an hour, don’t make me come inside and bring yo ass out.” He warned tapping her on the butt. She giggled and standing herself.

“Oh my God Brooks. Really? I can do this watch.”

“See you in a little bit, be thinking about a stage name too,” he joked.

She tossed his hoodie back at him. “Nah keep it.”

Brooks sending her home with his hoodie, made the drive home harder. She was catching feelings. The more she said friendship, the harder friendship became. The twenty minute drive, was a blur of streetlights, excited, nervous squeals, pregaming to Saweetie’s Pretty Bitch Freestyle. Taylor twerked in her seat and rapped her favorite part.

“I'm only sittin' on the dick if he a money-making Mitch

I'll show him I know how to throw it back if he can pitch”

She ignored that voice in her head—pure Momma energy—telling her she had no business in a strip club with a man like Brooks Bishop.. But it was just one night of fun and excitement. She wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

When she made it home, she stripped out of the hoodie and leggings and turned the shower on. She allowed the steam to fill the bathroom as she slid her bonnet on. She needed this. Not just to rinse off a long day of work but to shake off the lingering anxiety.

“Am I really doing this?” Taylor whispered chuckling to herself in the shower.

She’d placed more pressure on herself than was needed. At the end of the day, she was human, a woman with needs, a woman who missed laughing, whooccasionally wanted to rap the lyrics to Pretty Bitch Freestyle by Saweetie without judgment.

Tonight, she wanted to feel something different. Be something different. And she declared she would hell or high water. Brooks wasn’t going to have to drag her out, she’d be ready. Ready for one night of uninhibited freedom.

Under the hot water, she let her mind wander. How had she gone from sitting on Brooks’ couch, sipping whiskey, to this? She smiled to herself, lathering soap over her skin. Maybe it didn’t matter how. Maybe it was just time.

Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a towel, she stood in front of her closet, fingers running over fabrics, adrenaline buzzing through her veins. She pushed past her collection of sensible dresses and blouses, reaching for the hidden one day pieces she’d bought late at night from Fashion Nova. At the back of her closet, she found what she was looking for- that cropped red graphic tee with the middle held together with safety pins, bold white letters spelling BLESSED across the front. Because she was still one of the Lord’s soldiers, one of the strongest.

“Lord,” she whispered with a slight laugh, holding it up.

She smoothed lotion over her skin before pulling on her thong, and sheer black fishnets. She rolled them up her legs, watching the pattern disappear into the curve of her thighs. She followed with black leather shorts, the snug fit making her ass look exactly like it was supposed to. Taylor finished her look off with thigh high boots.

Her hands weren’t even shaking anymore as sheadded her biggest gold hoops, watch, and bracelets. She added a swipe of MAC lip gloss and another coat of mascara to make her eyes pop. Thankfully, her bob fell perfectly, framing her face like it knew they had places to be and people to see.

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