by Haley Cass
She tapped her fingers against the proposal in question. “They have intentions of building six academic buildings, and an outdoor recreation area that locals can access. With the amount of land they’ve requested to build on, it’ll leave us with just enough to continue our potential plans for the affordable housing grant from the state, to assist the people who are still struggling after their homes were condemned.”
No, Brooke didn’t get a vote. But this mattered to her, and she made eye contact with everyone again, taking stock of just where they were likely to land.
Kevin, who was glowering from his seat, got a vote just because of his status as mayor. She obviously knew where his vote was going. And she knew from the last hour that Paulette Tyson and Bill Halston were – coming as no surprise – going to vote for that damn mall and condo development, right with Kevin.
Maisy was nodding in exuberance at her, as was Anna-Lynne McCord, was also no big surprise, and she let her lips tick into a small smile at them. Ray Finnigan was a tough one to call, but she also knew he had two kids college-bound,and his face was set in contemplation.
Dominic Gibbons was the biggest toss-up: he wasn’t one of Kevin’s crowd, but he also wasn’t the biggest fan of Brooke’s, in terms of her capitalization on the progression of this town. He was the only member of the council over sixty, and had been a hard sell to convince over the years that Faircombe needed to embrace some change. And his face gave nothing away.
She shook her head. “Why don’t we call this meeting to a close? It’s a Friday, and we don’t have to vote now. Let’s all get our heads on right and focus on the food drive next Saturday.”
As the councilmembers started to file out, Marisa shot her a thankful look, speaking quietly as she started to pack up her bag, “Thank the lord you managed to quiet them down. I think next meeting, I’m gonna break into Ben’s clinic and steal some Ativan, so I can slip it into all of their water glasses.”
Brooke snorted as she packed up the files with the proposals. “As long as you do it when I’m not in the room so I can have plausible deniability, I wouldn’t argue with you.”
Marisa laughed. “I guess it’s a plan, then. I’m going to head home instead of the office; I’ll type up the notes and get them to you tonight, because I know you’ll want to review them this weekend. But I have to make Jayson dinner before the game tonight, if you don’t mind.”
Brooke waved her hand. “Tell Jayson I said good luck.”
Jayson had just turned fourteen and had made it onto the varsity football team, which was pretty remarkable, Brooke knew, even if she didn’t particularly like football. But Faircombe High’s team was pretty good; you could find just about half the town down at the field on any given Friday night during the season.
Marisa grinned brightly and hopped up, following one of the final councilors out the door.
And it was in that moment that Brooke realized that left her alone with Kevin. She narrowed her eyes at him, realizing a moment later that this was exactly what he’d wanted.
He stood up, pressing his palms into the table as he leaned over her, and Brooke clenched her jaw at his intimidation tactic. Typical.
She refused to move, and only angled her head up at him. “Can I help you?”
People like Kevin in Faircombe had always looked down on Brooke, on her family. She’d worked hard and earned a lot of respect along the way in the last seventeen years after earning her graduate degree and starting her work in the financial office. But the Leland family was almost as old as the Vandenberg’s in this city, and a whole hell of a lot different, in the worst ways possible.
“Listen here, missy –”
“Missy?” She cut in, a flash of anger cutting through her.
“What the hell have you got against progress? That mall is what this town needs.” Kevin jabbed his finger into the table, the vein in his forehead popping.
Brooke crossed her arms and made a show of calmly leaning back in her chair. “That mall will put half of the shops in Faircombe into financial distress, if not shut them down completely. Do you know how remarkable it is that we’ve managed to keep this town not just getting by, but thriving with our small businesses?”
Of course he knew. He just didn’t care.
Kevin slammed his palm onto the table. “Faircombe is being held back in time because of this bureaucratic bullshit and the way the old man ran things for so long. That mall will be a jumpstart into the twenty-first century and a draw to the town that we need!”
Brooke surged to her feet, at the mention of the old man. “Ben Sr. was an incredible mayor and there’s a reason he held that office for so long.” She narrowed her eyes, leaning over the table herself. “And if by being held back in time, you mean saving the businesses and families that have kept this town going since before we were born, then, I guess so. We have a better rating for small business success in this city because we haven’t commercialized.”
He only glowered, before sucking his teeth. “And what do you have to say about being against the condos? You’re always talking about how we need housing and all of the sudden, you don’t like it? This is a state of the art condominium complex!”
“And it just so happens to be that you’re in business with Nick Mitchell, who happens to be the developer, huh? That’s a damn fine coincidence.” Before he could say anything, she shook her head and held up a hand. “You want to build condos that are going to cost an arm and a leg to live in. The people here who are in need of better housing won’t be able to afford living in them!”
The vein in the middle of Kevin’s forehead visibly throbbed. “That development is going to be put in. You can put it off until next year to determine the vote, but guess what? I only need one more vote my way.”
“And I only need one in my favor. What’s your point?”
“My point is that you think you’re all high and mighty now, Watson, thinking you can call all of the shots. But I still remember that underneath it all, you’re trailer trash.”
Brooke bit the inside of her cheek so hard she worried there might be blood. Faircombe didn’t have an actual trailer park, but the decaying homes that had taken up most of the southeast side of town before the majority of them had been condemned and knocked down to make this very lot, were colloquially known as the trailer park.
And it wasn’t so off-base. Growing up, Brooke’s house had been falling apart and utterly dilapidated; there wasn’t a single square inch of that home that hadn’t been in desperate need of refurbishing. The broken steps that led to the front door were a hazard right off the bat, the carpets were stained, the paint chipped, and the smell of cigarettes was rooted so deeply into the walls, Brooke was pretty sure that the empty lot where the house used to be still had a smell.
Her dad had rarely been around long enough at any given point in time to take up any sort of pet project before he’d leave again for god only knew where, and her mom wasn’t generally sober long enough to care.
Rage bottled up inside of her and she reached for her files, forcing herself to calmly stack the files as much as she wanted to just shove them in her bag, trying to hide how hard her hands were shaking.
“And I still remember that you’ve always been a rich asshole, and yet, here we are. On equal ground, ending up in the same place,” she managed to temper the fire that surged through her, not wanting Kevin to know just how direct his hit had landed.
“For now. But your contract is up in six months.” Kevin sneered as he rapped his knuckles against the table. “You can bet your ass if I can get Ray or Gibbons to land on my side in this, I can get them to land on my side in replacing you as city manager when the time comes.”
“And I’d love to see how long you stay in office after you effectively fuck over half the town,” she shot back coolly, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
***
That cool snapped the second she walked into Thistle Drive.
Slamming the
door closed behind her, she stormed into the foyer, heading straight for the kitchen, where she could smell dinner cooking. Blood still boiling, she tossed her bag onto a chair in the living room as she passed by, ranting as she made her way down the hall.
“I hope that dinner tastes as good as it smells and that you made enough for me. I’m starving and I have a headache that’s driving me to an early grave. If Kevin fucking Leland doesn’t drive me there, first.” She glared at the mental image of the man. “If I could murder him with my own bare hands and get away with it, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I’d happily take down Nick Mitchell while I’m at it. Like I don’t know that’s who Kevin is going to propose to be my replacem–”
Her rant was cut short, the anger hijacked momentarily with surprise as she turned into the kitchen. And she wanted to slap herself on the forehead when she was faced with not Ben at all, but Taylor.
Hair thrown into a ponytail, donning an old sweatshirt that was big enough to almost hang off of one smooth shoulder, a small tear in the neck, she sat at the kitchen table, staring up at Brooke with wide eyes and an expectant smile as she twirled a pen between long, capable fingers.
“You’re not Ben,” she accused, narrowing her eyes as she stated the obvious.
“You know, I’ve always said that your powers of observation would take you very far.” Taylor chuckled as she snapped her fingers in mock-disappointment. “But, what gave me away? Was it the breadth of my shoulders? My superior looks? I should mark this down for future disguise.”
“It was your bad jokes, actually.” She shot back. Cut off at the knees, she awkwardly crossed her arms and leaned back into the wooden countertop. The spacious kitchen felt… smaller than normal. “Where is Ben?” She frowned. “It’s a Friday afternoon; the clinic has half-days on Fridays.”
Taylor nodded in acknowledgement. “The third weekend of the month, so he’s dropping Jo –”
“Off at Teresa’s,” she finished, feeling like an idiot. She’d known that. She’d just been so – ugh at Kevin, she hadn’t thought clearly. All she’d wanted to do was get the hell out of City Hall and also not have to walk all the way home and be accosted by a handful of people who would inevitably want to chit-chat. She just was in no mood.
I still remember that underneath it all, you’re trailer trash, Kevin’s words rang through her ears, and it burned inside of Brooke that sometimes she still felt that kernel of insecurity, like she was still that kid who wore clothes from the clothing drives, that reeked like cigarette smoke after being kept in her house. Who used to get teased at school, by people just like Kevin.
“Sorry. For marching in here,” she bit out as the fury resurged in the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t be,” Taylor waved her off, before she squared her shoulders and exaggeratedly pulled her face into a frown, before she spoke again, deepening her voice in an attempt to sound like a male register. “I’m Ben. You found just who you were looking for when you came in here madder than a wet hen. What would I do for you in this situation?”
She sounded so utterly ridiculous, Brooke couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter, breaking through her anger. “What the hell was that?”
“It was my Ben impression, clearly.” Taylor shot her a duh look.
Brooke lifted her eyebrows incredulously, before she shook her head. “Well. Ben usually tries to distract me and calm me down from ranting about Kevin because,” she glared before she huffed out the words in her own Ben impression, “You can hate him all you want, Brooke, but you’re going to have to work with him anyway. So, let’s focus on the bright side.”
Taylor wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Oh. Well, in that case, let’s pretend I’m not Ben, anymore.”
“It’ll be really difficult, with your world class performance,” she arched her eyebrows at Taylor, who flashed a smile.
Taylor placed her palms on the kitchen table where she still sat, nodding at herself as she tilted her head at Brooke. “Well, unlike Ben, I think it can be good for you to air your feelings out. How about you give me your best Two Minute Tirade?”
“My what?”
“Two Minute Tirade,” Taylor repeated. “You take two minutes straight to vent whatever you want and get it off your chest. That way, you aren’t stewing in your feelings and having a downward spiral, but you also aren’t bottling them up.”
She opened her mouth to tell Taylor that she wasn’t going to do that –
Except Taylor glimpsed at the clock and hurriedly hit her palms against the table in a drum roll as soon as she did. “Your time is starting… now: go, go, go.”
“I swear to god, I can’t believe Kevin Leland was the person who replaced your dad as mayor; almost every meeting I have with him, I wonder what the hell were people thinking?” She couldn’t help herself, the words flying out as Taylor egged her on. “He doesn’t give a damn about what’s best for everyone here; he only gives a crap about what’s best for him and the other people like him.”
She pushed herself off from the counter, feeling too wired to just sit still. “And that’s how he even got elected. Because he had the whole crowd of northside elitists voting for him. And yeah, they only make up twelve percent of the city, but with that sort of money, he was able to spend a crazy amount to campaign to everyone else and make people think he was going to do something for them.”
She whirled around as she hit the far side of the room, drawing her hands through her hair in agitation. “He wants me gone so bad, because: newsflash for anyone who didn’t know – Kevin’s an idiot who did no research, and had no freaking idea that Faircombe has a council-manager government, not a council-mayor form. He thought the second he walked into office, he was going to get to start calling shots in this town, but the mayor here is basically just a figurehead with a council vote. Ben Sr. got stuff done because people liked him and he worked with everyone.”
Brooke clenched her jaw. “He wants me gone? Well, he can try his damn best, but Faircombe is my city. And I’m not going to let them knock down an entire neighborhood and put in a mall and condos to allow for more gentrification, when we could use that land for something really good. Over my dead body. Damn it, I do a good job.” The passion burned in her throat. “I do a great job; I do everything I can. And I’m not going to lose my job without a fight. I don’t care how many times he calls me trailer trash.”
“And, time!” Taylor announced just as she finished her statement, and Brooke startled to realize she was standing right next to he, back at the table, and Taylor was now standing. Startlingly close.
Brooke blinked up at Taylor for a few long seconds, as Taylor looked down at her with a small smile tinged with what Brooke thought was sympathy and… something else, her dark eyes gleaming.
They only stood here, in this proximity, for a few heartbeats, before Taylor easily maneuvered behind Brooke and slid her hands up to Brooke’s shoulders. The touch shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. And within seconds, firm, knowledgeable hands were digging into Brooke’s shoulders.
“What are you – oh,” she breathed out, eyes falling closed against her own volition, a sigh breaking from her lips involuntarily.
Taylor… god, she had magical hands. She really, truly did. Brooke wasn’t surprised by this fact, in the least. Because she’d felt their other erm, magic, a few weeks ago. But those hands rubbed and slid and dug into her back, neck, and shoulders, and tingles spread everywhere with them.
She whimpered, then bit her bottom lip hard to stop herself. Fuck. It felt too good.
“You feel better?” Taylor’s voice was husky and soft, whispering past Brooke’s ear, and the feeling of that warm breath collected in Brooke’s core.
It was so heady and so enticing that Brooke’s eyes snapped open. Taylor was a fucking temptress even without trying and Brooke would not be tempted. She straightened up and stepped away from Taylor’s hands, whirling around as she put a few feet of space between them.
She had to ta
ke in a few deep breaths, before she realized that the rage that had simmered inside of her actually had cooled down. Like it had been purged, and she wasn’t sure if it was the rant or the massage or just Taylor, or a combination of it all, but, “Yeah, actually.”
Taylor reached out and touched her wrist, giving her a light squeeze. “Good.” Her expression darkened. “Did he really call you trailer trash?”
Brooke’s jaw tightened as she scowled. “You find it surprising?”
“No. I just can’t believe how little people change, sometimes. Fucking asshole.” There was a hard edge to Taylor’s voice that startled Brooke; something she was so not used to hearing from the woman who took things so lightly most of the time. She… didn’t hate it. “I got suspended from school for fighting with him, back in the day.”
Brooke scrunched her eyebrows up in thought. “I remember,” she drew out, the memory vague, but present. Taylor got in trouble a pretty decent amount of times, though. And it had often vexed her that Taylor seemed to go seeking trouble out, sometimes. Not with Kevin, though; Kevin was always the instigator. “Didn’t he call you a dyke over the intercom?”
Taylor’s eyes rolled, hard. “Yeah, he did. Our junior year. That was the first time I got suspended for fighting with him.”
Brooke tilted her head, studying Taylor.
She had to give her credit: Taylor had strength most people could only dream of finding as an adult, even as a teenager. Even though Brooke had clearly – she studied the sharp line of Taylor’s jaw – known she was gay back in high school, she didn’t tell anyone, not even Ben. Not until college, and even then, it had been a quiet affair. She’d just wanted to keep her head down and get through those awkward years without drawing any attention to herself.
