Fast Lane | ✔️

11

Ch11

The Young Woman drove quickly through the dark, winding streets of Beverly Hills, slowing down once she came upon the drive wisely camouflaged between tall shrubs. It was the closest thing to security in the entire estate. She drove past the entrance and parked down the road, feeling comfortable with the routine she had established over the past several months. Getting in and out of Brooks' residence was a breeze, an action she boldly felt she could do with her eyes closed.

In the dark, she followed the perimeter of the manicured front lawn, carefully eyeing the enormous house in the distance making sure the singer had indeed left for the evening.

The coast was clear.

She wasn't concerned with a time frame, it didn't really matter how long she took. She could enjoy herself at leisure once inside, knowing when Brooks left for the night he was typically gone until the early hours of the morning, an act she'd witnessed first-hand on several occasions.

The house was in its usual form, darkened; with the exception of one bright light visible in the foyer and several smaller lights decorating the outside of the home. Slowly, she crept toward the window she knew would be unlocked. How anyone in Brooks' prominent position could be so blasé about their safety was beyond her. She knew a thing or two about home security and she would be more than willing to take care of surveillance measures once the singer asked her to move in. When she reached her intended destination, she gave the window a gentle push and saw that it opened freely, just as she figured it would.

The Young Woman adjusted the brown leather messenger bag that clung to her side and gave it a protective pat. She never left home without it. It housed everything that was most important to her, including her camera which was tucked safely inside right next to the gift she had so thoughtfully crafted for Brooks. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation when she imagined him finding it. No doubt he would love it. How could he not? She'd gone great lengths to acquire it for him, and there was no question he would appreciate her commitment. If only she could see the delighted look on his face upon its discovery! But that would be much too dangerous.

She expertly hoisted herself through the opening and came down with a soft thud on top of plush carpet. Now that she was in the security of the main living room, The Young Woman let out a deep sigh. Not that she was nervous; fear was never an issue, at least not after the rush of breaking in for the first time. The thrill of the new experience had been electrifying--and surprisingly easy--how could she not come back for more? Her breath always caught in the most delicious way, relishing in the fact that she was in the home of the man she loved. The closeness overwhelmed her. Brooks Kennedy lived there . . . and she was most confident that one day she would, too.

The Young Woman knew the details of the estate by heart. The twists and turns that took her through the most intimate specifics; the bathroom where he showered, the bedroom where he slept, the studio where he practiced with his band-mates. She removed her boots and walked barefoot, the familiar feeling of carpet and hardwood underneath her bare feet. She enjoyed making herself at home; she knew Brooks would want it that way.

Leisurely, she wandered from room to room, taking her time looking through his mail and other personal belongings. The living room, the kitchen, his office, finally making her way up the grand staircase to the place she desired the most . . . the master bedroom. All the house needed was a feminine touch, one that let everyone who entered know Brooks was taken, that he was loved-by her. It would be a role she would never take for granted.

As she entered his room, she went straight for the closet, just as she always did, and opened the ornate wooden doors. The custom-made area that contained his wardrobe was about the size of the bedroom in her small apartment and once again she wondered why he needed all that extra space. Brooks was a simple guy, he didn't need much, certainly not rows upon rows of shirts, pants and shoes. Reluctantly, she had to admire his work ethic. It was no easy feat to take on the challenge of pleasing the world, but he did so without complaint. How exhausting it must be to always try and keep up the superstar image. Maybe once they were together officially, she would be able to convince him to step back from the limelight for a while . . . maybe even forever, and take the much needed break he deserved. Then, Brooks could be all hers and she would never again have to share him with his fans or record label. She would have him all to herself, just as it should be.