Blonde Ambition 2
Thanks for all the great comments everyone.
I wrote this story as my Nano challenge. Therefore, I have a lot already written and I'm really excited so I want to keep sharing.
Therefore, with the holidays coming up, finals, and everyone being busy, would you prefer weekly updates until the New Year or twice weekly updates starting now? I've set up a poll on my profile page that I'll keep up at least through the end of this week. Let me know what works for you so you aren't overwhelmed and can enjoy it.
I made up a last name for Enzo.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
With one last check of her bobbed blonde hair before she slid on her cloche hat, Caroline smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing one of her most professional outfits which should amuse her editor, Enzo Esposito. Well, it amused her. Him? Maybe not so much.
The navy dropped waist dress had a large white collar and a men's-style tie in a striped white, green, and red pattern. The belt was practically below her hips and the dress' hem hit her just below the knees. It didn't do a lot for her curvy figure, but she appreciated the lack of corset. They went out of style along with bustles only a few years prior. She was happy to see them go.
"Enzo, viva Italia!" she teased with a wave of her tie that had the colors of the Italian flag as she entered his office and plopped down, propping her feet up on his large wooden desk.
He shooed her feet off and rolled his eyes as he stubbed out his cigarette. His office reeked of smoke. She wasn't a fan of the habit, but she occasionally smoked while out on the town. "I've never even been to Italy, Goldilocks," he said wth his English accent.
She grinned and wiggled her brows at him. "What do you need, boss?"
He held up the latest columns she'd delivered. "This is good, but I'd like you to answer some letters we've gotten for you in future columns, engage with the readers."
Enzo pulled out a shoe box with a smile and dumped a pile of letters onto his desk. They were all addressed to "Kohl" care of NYC Magazine.
Caroline was blown away by the response. People were really responding to her snark, blasé attitude, and contradictory unbounded excitement about the nightlife in New York City. Her fingers moved a few of the envelopes around, seeing return addresses from Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan.
Caroline Forbes wrote two columns for NYC Magazine. One she wrote under her own name. It was a fashion column and her love of Coco Chanel was evident in every entry. The other was the entertainment column under her pseudonym "Kohl."
"I'll see what I can do," she said as Enzo swept the letters back into the box, handing it to her.
"There's one other thing," he said as he leaned back in his chair. He knew Caroline would lose her mind and he was excited to see her reaction. She was always over the top. "There are some fashion shows coming up in October. I'd like you to cover them." Advertising bought by stores had increased with their circulation improving, so the fashion column would be a nice tie-in.
"Sure," she agreed.
"In Paris."
Caroline was stunned then she jumped up and squeaked. Running around the desk, she kissed Enzo's cheek as she cheered around the small office. A group of onlookers stopped to watch her antics. She shook the box of letters around like maracas.
"You won't regret this, Enzo. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," she said as she practically danced outside of his door. "I'm going to Paris, everybody."
She got a few half-hearted cheers and un-excited "yays" from the writers who had cigarettes dangling from their mouths as they pounded away at their typewriters. She laughed at them. Others grinned at her as she did a little shimmy over to her desk.
Paris! Paris, France! Her minor in college was French and she was going to leave the United States for the first time because of her job. Her grin couldn't be contained as she strolled behind her desk and set her hat and purse down. This was good. Really good!
Making sure the top of her desk was neatly organized, she read the letters Enzo gave her. Some made her laugh. Others made her groan. Three were very creepy. A few were interesting enough that she thought she could use them and set them aside.
One asked about certain places to visit for special occasions. Another asked where to buy gifts related to drinking, as in where to buy an engraved flask. While selling and making alcohol for consumption was illegal, everyone still did it and items related to drinking were still sold in mainstream stores. Library books still held recipes for people to make alcohol at home.
Every few minutes Caroline would get distracted by thoughts of seeing the Eiffel Tower and possibly getting to see Ms. Coco Chanel herself. She would be floating on air until she got on the boat to bring her to Europe she just knew.
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Elijah Mikaelson wasn't one to sit on his laurels. Competition was fierce in New York amongst the cabarets and speakeasies. There was money to be made. The family coffers could always use topping off after all. While their cabaret did well, it was new. Publicity in the form of a positive mention in the popular NYC Magazine column would be a boon. He also agreed with Klaus that Bonnie and Marcel were special and set them apart.
"Hello Elijah," Bonnie Bennett greeted him pleasantly enough as she walked into the living room and poured herself a drink. She didn't see anyone else around.
"Hello Bonnie," he said in return, standing up and shooting the cuffs of his white shirt under his black coat. "Rebekah is shopping. Klaus is off with Marcel," he said with a small smile. "I'm off to run an errand. Can I get you anything?"
"What errand?" she asked, curious. Elijah was the Mikaelson she understood the least, yet might have liked the most. He was dangerous, but also more controlled and less impulsive than Klaus or Rebekah.
Bonnie Bennett was a wary guest and employee of the Mikaelsons. Her half-brother Marcel Gerard was involved with them up to his neck, which is why she was there. She didn't trust any of them as far as she could throw them, which was pretty far. They needed her and she needed them.
Bonnie was born in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her mother had Marcellus and then her three years later. Their fathers were different men who left as soon as they found out Abby Bennett was pregnant and unfortunately Abby couldn't care for them. Bonnie was taken in by her absent father's mother, but Marcel wasn't as lucky and ended up in an orphanage. Bonnie was 12 when her mother died during the yellow fever outbreak of 1905, but she hadn't seen her for years and didn't find out about her death right away. Marcel hadn't seen their mother in even longer.
Both Marcel and Bonnie were witches thanks to their mother and in Bonnie's case her father too, practicing traditional and spirit magic. It was only due to Bonnie's guardian, her Grams, that she learned to perform magic and embraced it. Marcel was treated like a freak when he displayed any magical tendencies at the home and kept his powers under wraps, not understanding it.
When Marcel came to the notice of Klaus Mikaelson, things changed for him. Klaus was an unlikely hero, but Marcel looked at Klaus like a big brother in an unstable environment. Marcel was turned when he was 25 years old after pleading for Klaus to do it. Bonnie hadn't seen her half-brother in close to ten years when she found him again two years ago. When she did locate him, she wouldn't let go which meant she was involved with the Mikaelsons as much as he was. She didn't like what she saw of them when they used their power to manipulate and kill, but she loved her brother. She occasionally saw glimpses of what drew Marcel to them, but not enough for her to love them like he did.
"Have you seen this?" Elijah asked, showing her the magazine in his hand.
"I have," she admitted as she sat down with a cup of tea in hand.
"There's an entertainment column that I would like to get The Original mentioned in. I'm off to find the author."
"Good luck," she said with a smile. Then she paused. "Honey."
Elijah stopped from where he'd been turning to leave and pulled his shirt collar away from his neck, suddenly warm. Bonnie Bennett was a beautiful woman and he wasn't completely immune even if his heart lie elsewhere. She was 32 years old, but she looked 20. He noticed the smooth skin of her legs as she crossed them. "Excuse me?"
She gave him a knowing smile and he kept his expression neutral. "You can get me some honey…for my voice."
"Ah yes," he said and excused himself, uncomfortable. "Good day."
Bonnie grinned and picked up the magazine he'd left behind. Elijah was too easy to play with.
She read the column he was talking about written by Kohl. At the top of the left hand page there was a small drawing. Then "Kohl" filled two pages with her musings on the scene in New York. It made Bonnie laugh and she couldn't blame Elijah for wanting to get the attention of the author. The way she wrote about the entertainers of the day, Bonnie wouldn't mind getting a little mention herself. She was sure she could show Kohl something new.
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"Mr. Esposito?" Elijah Mikaelson asked in the door to the NYC Magazine editor's office. Compulsion had gotten him inside and directions to Enzo's office although the secretary he compelled hadn't known who the writer behind the pen name "Kohl" was. He knew that would have been too easy, but it was worth a shot.
Enzo stood up and straightened his suspenders. "Yes. And you are?"
Elijah gave the other man a polite smile and made himself comfortable in the chair Caroline had been sitting in not too long before. "My name is Elijah Mikaelson. My brother and I are proprietors of a cabaret, The Original."
Taking his seat and lighting a fresh cigarette, Enzo sat back and smirked, not letting on what the name meant to him. "I don't get many business owners coming to visit me. What can I do for you?"
"I've recently become aware of your publication, especially the column written by 'Kohl.'"
Enzo didn't say anything and took a long drag. He'd gotten many enquiries into the name of one of his star writers. However, Enzo also knew that keeping Caroline's anonymity was key, at least until she decided she no longer needed it…which hopefully lasted for a very long time, he thought, as her column became more and more popular. The mystery added to the column's charm.
"Yes," Elijah said into the silence as Enzo exhaled smoke, "well, I'd like your journalist to pay a visit to our establishment. I'm sure he or she will be impressed and mention his or her experience in positive terms to your readers."
"If you're looking for advertising," Enzo said as he leaned forward on his elbows, "the sales office is on the second floor. I'm sure you can purchase ad space."
Elijah stood and Enzo did the same, coming around from the far side of his desk.
The Original vampire put his hand on Enzo's shoulder and looked deep into his brown eyes. "Who is the writer called 'Kohl'?"
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Caroline's office was at the far end of the building. Annoyingly enough, her assistant was at the complete other end of the floor. In a time saving technique that absolutely drove Enzo insane, Caroline slipped on roller skates to get there.
What was the point of having the world on a string if you didn't tug at it?
With a graceful move, Caroline glided her way around the various desks as she waved to her coworkers who watched her with bemused looks. It wasn't the first time they'd seen her roller skate. In fact her assistant, April Young, often put on her own roller skaters to do the same. Occasionally they met in the middle.
Caroline was just passing Enzo's office in the far corner of the floor on her way to the secretarial pool when she saw a good looking man standing in his office. She slowed to get a look at him, always willing to take a look at a handsome man, but then she heard him ask about "Kohl" and she slid behind a wall, listening in. Some sixth sense warned her there was something different about this stranger.
"I don't know," Enzo answered.
Elijah was frustrated at how difficult this task was turning out to be. "How are you in contact?"
"The column is left on my desk."
Elijah rolled his eyes. "How are they paid?"
"I leave an envelope of cash on my desk."
That didn't leave Elijah many options. He couldn't watch the office because he didn't know who he was looking for. "Leave a note for the writer to visit The Original as soon as possible and mention it in an upcoming column."
Elijah released his compulsion on Enzo and strode out of the office.
Caroline's heart was pounding harder than usual as she slid out from her hiding spot when the stranger left. "What was that about? Did he just compel you?" she asked in a fervent whisper, rolling into his office.
"He tried," Enzo said as he sat down, taking another drag from his cigarette. "He didn't though. Caroline, I know who 'Kohl' is and didn't tell him."
"Oh right," she said, not thinking it through. "Did he know you were a vampire?" Her brow was furrowed. Vampires couldn't compel vampires, so he must have thought Enzo was human. She knew Enzo was a vampire right away, even before she'd been told. She just sensed it about him. Apparently Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome wasn't as intuitive or it didn't matter to him.
"I'm not sure, but I have a trick. An old buddy told me about it," he said, pulling out the top drawer of his desk. It was full of pens and knick knacks, including a bottle of clear liquid he held up. "Damon." That was the old buddy.
That explained a little to Caroline. Damon Salvatore was the one who introduced her to Enzo and his wife Lexi. Caroline was more friendly with his brother Stefan. Damon thought a little too highly of himself, but he was amusing and certainly handsome.
"Never leave home without it. Vervain," he told her. "That was Elijah Mikaelson, of the famous Mikaelsons." He didn't know what Elijah looked like before he introduced himself, but he'd certainly heard of him and his siblings before.
"Not famous enough," she said as she rolled around to a chair and sat down.
"The Mikaelsons are the original vampires. As in nine hundred years old, Caroline," he said seriously, making sure no one was coming into his office. "They can do things us regular vampires cannot, including compelling other vampires I've been told. They are faster, stronger, and cannot be killed by ordinary wooden stakes. They are all beautiful and have a reputation of being vicious. They are bad news in other words." Enzo wasn't concerned for himself, but he didn't want to put Caroline in danger. She was his friend and he felt responsible for her, especially if her job put her in danger.
"Huh." Caroline shrugged, not very concerned.
Enzo handed her the bottle of vervain. He knew where he could get more for himself and Lexi. "Take a small amount every day and you'll be able to resist their compulsion. Plus you can build a tolerance…just like all that alcohol you drink."
She grinned and tipped her head in acknowledgement. Her alcohol tolerance was insanely high. It wasn't always pretty on her, but it was there. "Thanks." She stood up and skated over to the door. "Do you want me to write about their place?"
Enzo wasn't sure. He didn't want to tangle with the Mikaelsons for no reason, but he wasn't ready to get pushed around either. "Only if you want to. It's called The Original. Don't go alone."
She nodded and started to push away from the door.
"And Caroline?" She looked over her shoulder at him. "Lose the skates. This is an office."
Her laughter trailed behind her as she told him, "Davina and I are having a toga rent party Wednesday. You're invited, Enzo. Wear a sheet and bring Lexi. Ciao!" She knew he was rolling his eyes as she rolled away.
Caroline chatted with April, gushing over her plans to go to Paris. April was in charge of booking the trip for her. She also handed April her latest fashion column to look over and for her to research anything needed. As Caroline left for the day, it still being late afternoon in steamy, humid New York, she stopped at Macy's in Herald Square. She loved looking at the decorated windows inviting shoppers inside. New York had a little of everything, but the windows reminded her that there was a whole lot more to explore.
Unable to resist going inside, Caroline found herself in the ladies section. It was firmly divided between older and younger shoppers and the clothes were divided between dresses more similar to the styles her mom would wear and the new sleeker designs that her fingers itched to touch. Hemlines were rising and she smirked when she thought of where fashion would go in her immortal lifetime. Maybe togas would even become fashionable again.
She gravitated to the dresses covered with beading and geometric designs, admiring them.
"Mademoiselle?" A hostess held a glass of champagne out for Caroline to sip while she browsed. Caroline took it with a grin. This Prohibition thing was certainly something else.
As she sipped the room temperature champagne, not of great quality, her attention was caught by a patterned scarf. She just had to have it and she felt good that it was the only purchase she made. She had a party to plan and a trip to dream about and the scarf was the topper for an excellent afternoon.
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Klaus and Marcel first stopped in for drinks at a private club Klaus bullied his way into after driving around town, finding humans for Marcel to drink from. Marcel was a gracious companion once he had some coffee, blood, and lunch. He was the only man Klaus considered a friend and they enjoyed each other's company, except when Klaus tried to boss Marcel around, which was often. Marcel would remind him he was an adult and Klaus generally smirked and the issue passed until the next one blew up.
They passed the Palais Royal mentioned in Kohl's column after leaving the private club. Klaus gave the grand facade a look. Advertising billboards ran along the top, colorful and bright. The name "Palais Royal" was spelled out in large letters across the front, outlined by lights. It was certainly impressive. It was one of many grand amusements in a city full of them. Klaus hadn't been inside. He spent most of his time in his makeshift art studio in their townhouse or at The Original. He had made a few new acquaintances in the city he enjoyed, but seeing the club, he realized he had had to go out more, see the competition he wanted to crush.
The Original, the cabaret, was a former private men's club itself. The decor was definitely masculine with dark wood paneled walls. Electric lights in clear bulbs hung from the high ceiling and in wall sconces. It was bright enough to see, but couples would often find niches for relative privacy. White table clothes and white-coated waiters provided a relief to the dark decor.
The circular stage occupied a significant portion of the open space the patrons saw against the back wall. Surrounding the dance floor in front of the stage, small round tables filled in the remainder of the room. A large side room was used for billiards and darts. It's where single men often seemed to congregate as they smoked. Another side room was used for storage. Yet another was a private office Klaus and Elijah shared. Behind another door there was a small kitchen, but they didn't serve food. It was a remnant from the prior owners. For the feds' benefit they served non-alcoholic drinks, but in reality they had an entire hidden room full of alcohol, purchased and brought down from Canada.
Klaus and Marcel stopped at The Original, parking in Klaus' reserved spot out front. Klaus made a joke about the difference between New Orleans and New York being the heat as they stepped out from the car. New York was in the middle of a brutal heat wave. While not as humid as New Orleans, it was humid enough to make moving a lot less pleasant.
The manager, Josh, was at work although they wouldn't be opening for hours. There were a few workers cleaning up from the night prior and getting ready for guests coming that evening, sweeping the floor and wiping down tables.
"Joshua, any issues? Excellent," Klaus said as he walked, not bothering to actually stop or listen, as Josh opened and closed his mouth with a nod.
Marcel grinned and the two friends walked into the back room annexed to the kitchen.
With a flick of his wrist, Klaus pushed a button in the "brick" wall and the mechanism clicked into place. The wall moved and Klaus reached in for a bottle of bourbon.
"Tastes like home," Marcel said after taking a healthy swig Klaus poured.
Klaus put his arm on Marcel's shoulder as he took a sip of his own. "I'm going to need you to work on some new material, mate, with your dear sister. Let's give this Kohl something to write about."
Klaus then went on to tell Marcel about the magazine and Elijah's mission to get their name dropped in the column. Music was Marcel's passion, one he shared with Bonnie. He started playing the trumpet in the clubs in New Orleans, sneaking out of the orphanage to watch the battling bands perform in the seedy part of the city. When he picked up the instrument for the first time, he was hooked and naturally talented. He was able to take lessons from some musicians not much older than himself. They were impressed by his dedication and passed on the technique they'd themselves been taught.
After joining local bands that played anywhere they could get a gig, Marcel became the bandleader where he sang and emceed as often as he actually played. With Klaus' club, he got to select his own band, inviting them to New York to play along with his half-sister Bonnie, the best singer in all of New Orleans and in his mind, maybe all of the world.
It soothed Marcel's soul to share the music in his head which was an early form of jazz. He wavered from playing songs reflecting his sadness, songs about love, and songs that people jumped up to dance to because they couldn't help it.
"I've been working on a few ditties," he said with a smile, feeling inspired. "I need to talk to Bonnie." Melodies rattled in his head and he would share them with the band once they were down on paper and revised. The band would be arriving in a few hours and they would quickly rehearse for the night's entertainment.
When their drinks were finished, Klaus drove them back to the house. He disappeared into his studio inspired by the Palais Royal building.
Marcel walked into his bedroom and was about to sit at his desk to work when a blonde flash came running in as quiet as a mouse, the door shut quietly behind her.
Her lips met his and his arms were full of his lover. "This isn't smart, Rebekah," he said as he peeled himself away from her. Getting involved with Rebekah was one thing, but to do anything with her in the Mikaelson house was a death sentence. Bonnie would kill him, never mind Klaus or Elijah.
"I know, but they're busy and I haven't gotten to see you yet," Rebekah answered with a mild pout, holding his hand in hers.
He grinned. "You know every song I write is for you. Now let me get back to work and you need to go," he said as he pushed her, literally, out of his room as she smiled.
The blonde Original was momentarily appeased as she walked into her own room. If only they could go public with their love, but it was complicated, mostly because of how insanely possessive Klaus was. She'd get to see Marcel at the club that night and that would have to do.