Creed: Eyewitness, page 2
"Tay!" she heard her best friend and partner, Maria Mendez, shout from the hallway.
"I'm in the tub!" Taylor shouted back.
The bathroom door swung open, and Maria flew in. She fiddled with the button and zipper of her jeans, before plopping down on the toilet.
"Ahh," she moaned as she relieved herself, with total disregard for Taylor's presence.
"Really, Maria?"
"Whew! Adios mios, mami! I had to pee."
"I'm sorry I gave yo’ ass a key."
"The fuck you want me to do? Pee myself?" Maria asked, unrolling a handful of toilet paper.
"Ugh... Wipe ya ass and get out of my bathroom."
Taylor rolled her eyes and turned off the jets, calming the roaring bubbles. Maria had just destroyed the serenity of her bath.
"What did we discuss about boundaries?"
"Heffa, shut up and get out the tub," Maria quipped as she flushed the toilet.
She fastened her pants and washed her hands, drying them on Taylor's drying towel.
"Bitch," Taylor muttered at Maria's back as she left the bathroom.
Taylor climbed out of the tub, dried off, and wrapped herself in the towel. When she entered her bedroom, Maria was spread out across her bed, aiming the remote control at the television.
"How was your detail?"
"How do you think it was?" Taylor scoffed. "I'm a disgruntled employee."
Maria chuckled and continued to surf through the channels. Maria was lucky. She had thirteen years on the job and hardly ever got assigned to the same shitty details that Taylor usually got stuck with. Dealing with the ever-changing scheduling needs of the police department was hard enough. But on top of that, Maria had two little girls and a husband at home. Taylor was in awe of the way that Maria managed the day-to-day of her life. Since she was raised in a traditional Mexican household, having a home cooked meal for her family every day was second nature. It didn't matter what time she got home from work, even if it was three in the morning; she would cook an entire meal and store it in the freezer for her family to eat the next day while she was at work.
"Well, it's all over now, and it's our weekend off. Whatcha got planned?"
"Sunday, I'm going fishing at Fox Lake," Taylor responded, with the most enthusiasm she'd had all day.
"Eww. Why do you love playing with slimy things every time you get a day off?"
Taylor ignored the look of disgust that Maria gave her and walked over to her dresser. She fished out a pair of pajamas and headed back into the bathroom. She grabbed a bottle of eucalyptus tea scented body lotion from the cabinet and moisturized her skin, before slipping into her pj's.
"You goin’ with your papa?" Maria asked, as Taylor reentered the bedroom.
"Yep."
"Your dad's a hillbilly," Maria chortled. "And you know he secretly wishes that you were a boy, don't you?"
"It's not a secret at all," Taylor chuckled.
James and Martha Montgomery, Taylor's mom and dad, were born in Arkansas. They were southerners to the bone. Her dad was raised on a farm. Had it not been for her mom, Taylor believed that her dad would have never left the south. He loved the country life. Hunting, farming, and fishing were her dad's version of a five-star vacation. And, although her mom convinced him to move to Chicago, he managed to continue his hobbies. He joined the police department, but every weekend that he had off, he was on a lake or toting his rifle through a nearby hunting ground, dragging Taylor along every chance he got. But she certainly wasn't complaining. She loved to escape the harsh big city for a small glimpse into a southern existence.
As far as siblings, there was just Taylor and her sister, Nicole. Contrary to Taylor, Nicole wouldn't be caught dead baiting a hook. She was a carbon copy of her uber feminine mother; a lady to the core. She was a buyer for Saks Fifth Avenue and two years older than Taylor. Nicole was also engaged to be married to Jeffrey, an almost too perfect, yuppie, politician. He seemed nice, but almost too nice.
"Damn, girl. Where did you go? I lost you."
Taylor blinked, snapping her thoughts back to Maria, trying to remember the conversation. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about my sister. Her fiancé had an extra ticket to the State Dinner on Saturday and my overbearing sister is forcing me to go."
"Extra ticket my ass," Maria argued. "That dinner is like a thousand bucks a plate. Ain't no such thing as extra tickets."
"That's what the yuppy told her."
"Mmm hmm. So what are you going to wear?"
"Don't know. Nic said that she was picking out a dress for me."
"Wow. I'm surprised that you're being so cooperative."
"She wore me down," Taylor responded with a shrug. "Anyway, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Making dinner and wiping asses. What else?" she said dryly.
"Girl, don't front. That's your version of fun. You love that shit."
"Whatever," Maria mumbled, climbing out of bed. "Speaking of wiping asses, I gotta go."
"Damn, okay. Text me when you get home."
Taylor was a bit confused by Maria's lack of excitement. On a normal day, Maria loved gushing over her family life. She was a bit concerned about her friend, but she didn't want to pry. Nobody's life was perfect every day. She figured that Maria must have been going through a thing and she'd be over it soon.
She followed Maria down the hall, gave her a hug, and locked the front door behind her. She made her way down the hall, back to her bedroom, and then she realized that she still didn't know the reason for Maria's impromptu visit. Maybe she was just in the neighborhood and had to use the washroom. It was a theory that was highly unlikely, but Taylor lacked the amount of rest needed to solve the dilemma. So, she climbed into her bed, deciding to call her friend the next day.
CHAPTER 3
Creed
The governor's mansion was buzzing with activity, but Victor couldn't be more bored. He knew going in that he was going to see much of the same faces of the same people that normally frequented politically fueled social events.
He stood in the corner, watching everyone move about the ballroom and listening to Kenyatta and her assistant brutally pick apart the wardrobe of the other guests. At times, Victor couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. Kenyatta and Lisa were hilarious; his evening's saving grace.
"Girl, look at Councilwoman Harris in that tight ass dress," Lisa whispered, a bit too loudly. "I need her to invest in some Spanx."
Victor had no idea what spanks were, so he kept quiet.
"Lisa, you know she wasn't raised right," Kenyatta countered. "My soul won't let me pass my threshold without something to suck in all this ass."
Victor laughed out loud, knowing that he shouldn't have. Truth be told, the congresswoman had a nice round ass. It was her nasty disposition that was a deterrence.
Victor leaned closer to Kenyatta. "That's enough. Let's go and sit. Maybe they'll start dinner so that we can get the hell out of here."
"Governor Creed, you're a party pooper. Dinner won't be served for another thirty minutes. Besides, you're about to be busy."
Kenyatta jabbed her thumb to the right of Victor; annoyance was evident in her expression. Victor turned to see Kara's approach. She looked beautiful in a navy blue form-fitting gown. She had her auburn hair in a sculpted updo, and her hazel eyes sparkled with a hint of anger.
"Governor Creed," she greeted tersely, totally ignoring Kenyatta and Lisa.
"Miss Edwards, you're certainly a vision."
If Victor was hoping to ease the tension with a compliment, he realized that he had failed when she responded with, "Apparently, that's of no consequence to you."
"No, it isn't. But you look beautiful nonetheless. Enjoy your evening."
Before she could respond, Victor walked away, gesturing for Lisa and Kenyatta to follow.
"What was that all about?" Kenyatta asked, as soon as they reached Victor's table.
"Time for a new starting player," was all Victor said.
"Thank God," Kenyatta huffed. "It's about time, because Kara Edwards got the devil in her. Oh and by the way... you're a whore."
Victor glared at her, never ceasing to be amazed by the things that came out of her mouth.
"That's Governor Whore to you," he rebutted.
"Forget Governor Whore," Lisa chimed. "Look at that fine specimen that just walked in."
Kenyatta turned and Victor followed her line of sight. The ladies were looking at Jeffrey Morgan, the Chicago Water Commissioner. And although Jeffrey's good looks had done nothing for Victor, one of the women that accompanied him was paralyzing. It was the cop that he'd seen the day before. That day she was wearing a uniform that he was sure she hadn't realized was hugging her every curve. Surely, she hadn't noticed the buttons of her shirt holding on for dear life, barely containing her large tits. And she had the most beautiful skin, the color of pecans. Her lips were full and kissable, and her hair was stuffed under her police cap, with a big bushy ponytail hanging down her back. And though he thought she was gorgeous when he observed her directing traffic, her cute tomboy look had nothing on the bombshell walking into the ballroom. Her bushy ponytail had been converted to a wild, curly, lioness' mane, and her curvy body was wrapped in red satin. The color was striking against her bronze skin. The lady cop walked with the grace and femininity of a confident woman, even though her body language indicated that she had wanted to be anywhere but the State Dinner; a consensus that made them comrades.
Before he realized that his feet had moved, Victor was nearing her. Without a slight glance away from the beauty before him, he acknowledged Jeffrey.
"Governor Creed, may I introduce my fiancée, Nicole, and her sister, Taylor Montgomery."
"How lucky you are, Commissioner Morgan, to be accompanied by two of the most beautiful women in the room."
"I'm a very lucky man indeed, Sir," Jeffrey chuckled, standing a bit taller.
Victor nodded toward Jeffrey's fiancée.
"It's so nice to meet you, Governor Creed,” she greeted.
"The pleasure is truly mine."
She was a beauty in her own right. Clearly there was some good DNA flowing through the sisters’ veins. Victor smiled at her, before devoting his attention to her sister, Taylor. She was a vision. Her natural curls were wild and free, and she looked downright feral, like a beast that could tame him. In nanoseconds, Victor had perused her entire body, before focusing on her beautiful, dark brown, feline-like eyes. He licked his lips before he could stop himself.
Clearing his throat, Victor decided to speak before he did something to really offend the woman.
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Montgomery," he said, as he took her left hand, placing it to his lips. His action was more so to check for a wedding ring. "Welcome to the Executive Mansion."
She smiled as she tugged her hand away. "Thank you, Governor Creed."
"Please call me Victor."
"I couldn't," she said with a chuckle.
"Of course you can," Victor insisted.
She looked around, seemingly taking in the environment. "Everything is so beautiful, Sir."
"Victor," he reiterated. "Maybe I can show you around after dinner?'
"No, Sir," her sister interjected. "We couldn't put you out like that. But thank you."
We? I didn't say shit about ‘we’.
Before she'd interrupted, Victor had almost forgotten that the little cock-blocker was in the room.
"Hey, I found our table," a male voice said from behind.
Victor turned to find Brent Trainer, the most irritating reporter that he’d ever come across in a press conference. When Brent walked up to Taylor Montgomery and possessively placed his hand in the small of her back, Victor actually stiffened. He stuffed his hands into his pant pockets. He could feel a surge of anger as Brent so freely touched the object of his desire. And the fact that Taylor didn't seem all that comfortable with Brent's gesture didn't exactly give him calm.
"Good evening, Governor," he greeted with an arrogant smirk.
"Trainer," Victor grunted, quickly returning his attention to Taylor.
His eyes narrowed on her as he was mentally warning her to get the reporter's hands off of her. And when she took the subtlest step away from Brent, Victor nodded with a smile as if to say, “Good job.”
"Please enjoy your evening," he said, a bit happier, as he walked away.
Taylor
"I noticed that you can't keep your eyes off of our handsome, single governor," Nicole whispered. "And, apparently, he can't seem to keep his eyes off of you."
Taylor turned to her sister and tried to play dumb. "What are you talking about?"
Nicole pursed her lips and stared pointedly at Taylor. "Girl, stop playing dumb before I slap you."
"I believe you know better than to do that, dear sister," Taylor responded in a sugary tone.
"Whatever. You look so pretty tonight. Although, I wish that you would have worn your hair up."
Taylor stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Nicole could be so overbearing. It wasn't enough that she'd worn the dress and shoes that she'd picked out for her, as if Taylor wasn't capable of putting together her own outfit, but evidently she didn't believe Taylor could manage her own hair.
Clearly, Nicole was conducting a "find Taylor a man" mission. When Nicole insisted that she tag along with her and her fiancé, Taylor should have known that she was up to something. When she stepped out of her house to find Brent standing by the limo waiting for her, she had to admit that she was a bit surprised by her sister's nerve. Not that Brent wasn't a good looking man; he was quite handsome in a "beach boy" kind of way. He just didn't seem to be her type. With bouncy blonde hair and striking blue eyes, he'd be considered movie star beautiful. Although very tall, he was a little too lean for Taylor. After all, she wasn't a tiny woman. She was 5'9", which was taller than most women, and nowhere near thin. She knew that she had the kind of curves that she couldn't even begin to hide, even in the bulky uniform that she wore every day. Her mother and her sister were also built as solid as a brick wall. No gust of wind was gonna blow either of them away.
"Seriously, Tay, your hair is so... wild."
"Damn, you're still talking?" Taylor huffed. "I like my hair this way. No, I'm not getting a relaxer. No, I don't need to wear weave. Yours, by the way, is gorgeous, but it's not for me. Why don't you style your hair as you wish, and I'll do the same with mine? And I'll thank you for letting it go."
As exasperating as Nicole was, she was right about one thing; Taylor couldn't keep her eyes off of the good governor of Illinois. He was definitely something to look at. He had a thick mane of silky dark hair framing a gorgeous face and a pair of sultry moss green eyes that seemed to hold promises of erotic nights. And damn if he couldn't fill out a tux. He was a tall, thick piece of eye candy that Taylor would love to unwrap. She knew that he was young and handsome, but television did Governor Creed absolutely no justice. She actually had to hide a shiver when he was standing in front of her. And to make matters worse, Taylor was sure that he was flirting with her. Well, he was, until Brent walked up. The governor's entire attitude had changed then. He went from friendly and flirty to almost brooding. Admittedly, the change in his demeanor had stirred something from within Taylor. It was as if she had read his mind. He smiled when she eased from Brent's side. He was visibly pleased, and something about pleasing him made her tingle inside.
"For you," Brent said, handing her a glass of champagne, diverting her attention.
"Thank you."
Taylor smiled and took a less than lady-like gulp, earning her a look of disapproval from Nicole. Taylor shrugged and placed the glass on the table in front of her.
"So, Jeffrey tells me that you're a cop. I'll bet you got some great stories."
"Well, I have stories, but I don't know how great they are."
Brent smiled, showing straight white teeth. "I'm sure that depends on who's listening to them."
Taylor retrieved the glass from the table and took a more refined sip before asking, "So, you're a reporter, huh?"
That was her first mistake of the evening, because Brent talked about himself and his “oh so fascinating” stories all through dinner. Even as they danced, Taylor could hear nothing but the incessant ramblings of a man that really loved his job. She coped by staring across the ballroom, discreetly eyeing the handsome governor. And when she found the perfect excuse, she politely excused herself.
"Brent, will you excuse me? I think I see an old friend."
"Of course," he responded as he stepped back.
Taylor smiled and took off to the other side of the ballroom. She stopped behind the woman that had caught her attention.
"Victoria Price," Taylor said, prompting the woman to turn around.
"Victoria Storm," she corrected with a smile.
"Oh, that's right. I'm still waiting for your tell-all to drop; 'From Streetwalker to Billionaire'.”
"Well, keep waiting. I can't teach you tramps all my tricks."
The ladies embraced and laughed together.
"Vic, it's really good to see you. How have you been?"
"Life's good. I got no complaints. You? You still on the job?"
"Yeah, until I meet a millionaire that is," Taylor scoffed.
"Looks like your wait is over," Victoria whispered.
Taylor turned and looked over her shoulder. Victoria's husband, Jack Storm, and Governor Creed were standing behind her. They were exceeding the hot guy quota that Taylor thought was in place at stuffy events for the rich. Jack Storm had to be the only man that could pry her eyes away from Victor Creed. And although Jack's unbelievable good looks, charisma, and sex appeal were suffocating, Victor Creed was a god among men. Maybe they were both sons of Zeus.
As Taylor stood before two of the most beautiful men that she'd ever seen, she feared that she'd break out into a sweat at any moment.
"Who's your friend, Sweetheart?" Jack asked.
