AN: Happy Sunday! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I've had eight chapters of this story pre-written for awhile now and it makes me really excited that you guys finally get to read it. Another flashback happens this chapter and I'm going to try to do one each chapter from here on out as long as it fits. The plot is going to start to pick up the pace to hopefully too. Have fun reading and leave a review if your heart desires. Thanks for reading.
CHAPTER 7.
He had a half-hour until he had to meet Alaric for his sponsored check-up. The fact that he was about to walk into their meeting and lie made him actually feel awful. He was a piece of shit for drinking again. He was a terrible person for lying that he was back on the straight and narrow when he wasn't. Three years of being sober and tasting one drop of alcohol had made him crave more. The night after the funeral had been the first and last night had been the second. Two consecutive nights in a row he had broken his promise. He was ashamed, but he wanted more. It was disgusting he wanted to go down that path again. He hated himself for it, but he was an addict
In his three-year stint of being clean some days had been better than others. Surrounding him with positive reinforcement always helped keep him on track. However, Elena was his biggest supporter and now she was gone. The blame was sort of put on her for why he had stumbled back into his old ways. No matter how many times in a day he said he wouldn't do it again, he knew all it took was one drink and he was hooked. Just the alcohol in the mouthwash he gargled to cover up the stench of his breath curved his craving. Damon was relapsing.
Staring up into the mirror, he shook his head. "You're fucking pathetic." Damon said to himself. The stubble on his cheeks and chin were becoming worse. He hadn't shaved in a few days, nor did he want to. Appearing more tired than anything he hoped to pull off his sloppy look due to stress and lack of sleep. He knew Alaric was keen on when he had been drinking or not. His best performance would have to come out today. The thought of having to go back to an actual AA meeting made him cringe. He was going to have to lie his ass off if he wanted to fool him and avoid the room of miserable fucks that were just as messed up as him.
By throwing on a dark V-neck t-shirt and jeans, he grabbed the essentials and headed out. The pile of his funeral clothes was still near the door. For some reason during his trip down Absinthe lane he took them off. Not wanting to touch them, he pushed them aside and out of the way for the time being. Damon ran his hand through his hair as he checked his reflection in the elevator's shiny interior. His ride down was halted as an elderly woman entered. He smirked briefly and fixed the sunglasses on his face.
"Sorry to hear about your loss." She said over her shoulder. "I read it in the newspaper. She was such a sweet girl."
"She was." Damon gritted through his teeth. First his family, then Ric, and now a random old woman was sending her condolences. If this was how his day was going to begin, he was tempted to cancel his downward journey to the parking garage and head back up to his penthouse. But he couldn't. He had to meet with Alaric. It was protocol.
Five more levels to descend and he would be on his way. The sound of screeching tires echoed through the cement garage once he left the elevator. Damon quickly got in to his car and sped off. He wanted to make as little contact as possible with the outside world.
The park where they had met before wasn't far from his place. With time to spare, he parked his car and glanced down at his phone. It was ten till noon and Alaric was nowhere in sight. Usually he was pretty prompt about sponsored meetings, but today he was grateful he had beat him to the punch. Taking a seat on the same bench, Damon rested his right foot on his left knee. He adjusted his sunglasses once more and checked his breath. Minty fresh was all he smelled.
"On time." Alaric called out a few feet away.
"I think I deserve some prize for beating you here." Damon joked.
"I would say a drink, but that wouldn't be appropriate." He smiled and sat down. "So, how have you been since I last saw you?"
"Well besides the usual fits of rage and unprotected sex I say fucking fantastic!" He said with great sarcasm.
Alaric did not find it amusing. "I'm serious. How are you?" He asked.
"How do you think I am?" Damon bounced the question back. He was depressed, upset, and to mention feeling like absolute ass this fine afternoon, but he didn't want him to know that. With his crutch for humor, he used it to his best ability. Keeping the laughter and conversation flowing made him appear livelier than he actually seemed and felt.
"You better be clean as a whistle." Alaric remarked.
"I'm as clean as it gets." He replied.
"So what did you do after I dropped you off at the scene of the crime?" Ric asked curiously.
Shit. This was his true test if he could pull this off. Damon focused and tried to stay calm. He flashed his famous smirk and explained. "Went home and wallowed. Then Stefan came over and was a complete dick, nothing out of the ordinary. After he left, I just wallowed some more." He tried to keep the details to a minimum.
"And no booze helped this wallowing?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Not a drop." Damon answered. "I can wallow and be sober. I know it's a fine task to handle, but I think I handled it well."
Through his tinted shades he watched and speculated what Alaric was about to say next. He wasn't sure if he was buying his story. Most of it was true while he managed to leave out the most important part. If Alaric had found he drank again, he was done. If he found out he still had that bottle of Absinthe, he was dead. If he found out he had drank it he would put him instantly six feet under. Alaric took sobriety seriously and at one point he did too. He knew how fucked up his habit had become and the sort of trouble he was getting into. As a young boy he watched his mother lose her battle with addiction and knew he was headed toward the same fate if he wasn't careful. But addiction ran through his blood. He was his mother's son. It was written in his DNA to struggle with this demon as long as he was alive.
"You swear to me that you didn't go home and drink?" He tried to confirm.
Damon cleared his throat. "What alcohol is there to drink at my place? It's clean, I swear." He lied.
"Okay," Alaric shrugged. "But remember if I find out you did or you do drink again it's straight to AA mister. I'm dead serious."
"Scouts honor." Damon humored him.
God he was going to fucking hell for this. While Elena was free and roaming away in heaven, he would be rotting in hell for all his sins. It was an odd thought to have about where she was now, but he knew he was building his case thicker for all the reasons of why he wasn't good.
"You want to grab some lunch?" Alaric suggested.
Not sure if he could stomach food at the moment, he nodded his head anyways and agreed to food.
"Let's walk. It will be good for the both of us." He added. "I'm craving a burger and I could use the exercise before I scarf one of those down."
"Sure." Damon responded.
Fuck my life, he groaned to himself. Walking was only making his Absinthe hangover worse, yet he portrayed to be not showing any signs of it. But that wasn't the only reason he was annoyed. Walking entitled talking and clearly Ric wanted to talk. Whether it was about life or a sports game or about Elena, he hoped it would not turn into a argument. He didn't have the strength in him to fight today.
As they reared the corner of a red brick building, he paused. The sign read, Graham Ave Pub and Grill. Alaric continued to walk and talk about something he was honestly not paying any attention to. His distraction had completely torn him from whatever he was saying now.
"You really should cut your brother some slack. He is only trying to help." He said not knowing Damon had stopped a few feet away as he reached to open the door. "Uh, Damon?"
Puzzled, he looked up at the sign. It took a moment to render what it meant and where they were before his hand was no longer on the door handle and next to him.
"Geez, fuck. I wasn't thinking." Alaric apologized. "I was thinking with my stomach not my brain. We can go somewhere else."
"No, it's fine." He snapped. "I can't runaway from everything that reminds me of her."
"No, you can't." Alaric sighed. "But you can if you want to right now. We can go to that other place down the street. The burgers there are just as good."
"It's fine. Go." Damon insisted. As much as wanted to run, he knew he had to stop thinking that way. With it still fresh on his mind and heart, he was trying to mend what was terribly broken.
Inside it was just like he remembered it, high ceilings, the smell of bleach, and attractive women ready to serve. It was where he had seen her for the second time. He still could recall their unexpected run in and he was glad fate has brought them together once again.
Tired, hung-over, and crabby, Damon was hunched over his desk. He needed to end his misery with a mimosa or something. It was becoming impossible to get anything done at work. Checking his watch, it read fifteen minutes till eleven. He gathered his things and left his messy and unproductive desk.
The streets were lively with workers on their breaks for the afternoon, yet Damon could not say he was one of them. He was fortunate enough to have a high rank in his office letting him come and go as he pleased. Today he was using it to his advantage.
Damon stalked the afternoon streets as he placed his shades on his face sitting snugly on his nose. His little departure could not turn into an all-afternoon adventure as much as he wanted it to. A happy hour was in order and it was the only way to get his brain semi-functioning to get any work done at all. He had strictly an hour to drink a good amount before he would head back and finish up. He was on a mission.
A few blocks over he found the solution to his problem. A bar and grill, Graham Avenue flashed its sign from closed to open and he made no time waiting as he walked right in. It was dull and reeked of bleach. The interiors struck him as a place he had been in before, but many bars blended together on many of his drunken nights. He had his set bars he liked to drink at and this was not one of them. However, he was desperate to curve his hangover into a buzz and it was the first that became available on his journey.
Taking a seat at the bar, he pulled out his wallet and hunched over. The voices of the first shift employees clucked from behind the swinging door to his left. He wished for them to end their morning charades and serve him already. He didn't have much time. Seconds passed before he heard the door fling open and a peppy and forced 'hello' filled his ears.
"Welcome to Graham Ave." The girlish voice sang. "I'm Elena. What can I get you?"
His head nearly shot up. He felt the knot forming at the base of his neck, as he knew he had strained it. The name she said rung a bell. That was the same name of the beautiful girl from last night. Through his sunglasses he looked her up and down. The long, straight brunette hair and big brown eyes gave her away. She smiled awkwardly as she waited for him to answer. He had a hard time concentrating as he fawned over her low cut shirt that managed to show just enough cleavage to make him drool. The shirt she wore was tight too and as he leaned forward just enough he saw the tiny shorts she had on too. He was beginning to grow another problem.
"I'll have a mimosa, Elena." Damon replied taking off his sunglasses.
Her smile fell as she stared for a brief moment and made the connection from the night before as well. "You." She said and put her hands on the bar. "I met you last night."
"I helped you with your friend." He added.
"Right," she pushed her hair behind her ear. "Thanks again."
Awkward silence passed as they exchanged glances and she motioned to the freshly cleaned glasses and began mixing his drink. "Small world isn't it?" She finally spoke up as she reached for a bottle.
"Yes, it is." Damon remarked. He cringed as he saw the bottle she picked to mix into his drink. The thought crossed his mind to correct her and supplement him with something of higher quality, but he remained silent and observant.
"Here you go." She handed him the drink. "Starting early I see."
"It's never too early to start." He winked at her.
A smile spread across her face and she glanced away. Another moment of awkward silence presented itself and immediately he despised it. He was never the one to be at a loss of words especially around beautiful woman such as her. Thriving off his charm, he could make any girl feel special when he was with them. Usually his intentions were meant for more than just a flirtatious conversation and usually he succeeded.
"So, how did the rest of your night go?" Damon asked casually.
Pushing a bowl of pretzels his way, Elena sighed. "Mine, fine. My friend's not so great." She shook her head. "My guess is she is still on the bathroom floor and not at work."
"If I was in her condition last night I think be doing the same thing." He said knowing it was a lie. No matter how bad the hangover was he always made it to work or wherever he had to be. Many years of practice let him accomplish more things than most hung-over humans could on a normal day.
"Speaking of last night," she leaned forward. Her breasts pushed farther through the V-neck cut on her shirt. Damon tried his best not to stare. "How are you even drinking? Seemed like those friends of yours were crazy. Can't imagine you had a tame night."
Damon popped a pretzel into his mouth. "I'm managing. I've been worse, done worse, felt worse. And they aren't my friends. More like acquaintances." He informed her.
"I see." She smirked.
"I'll admit though my morning was going horribly until I came here." He slyly said and took a rather large gulp of his drink. She straightened up and smoothed out her shirt. It was obvious his remark made her shift uncomfortably.
For the third time he was met with silence. It was becoming an irritation for him. Why was this happening? He could charm the pants off any girl and have them in the palm his hand, but not her. She was cute, friendly, had a great body, but the moment he hinted toward flirting she became different.
He needed to be quick and think on his toes. Their conversation couldn't end here. He didn't want to be just another customer to her. He wanted more and he really didn't know why. This was the most odd feeling ever. No girl ever had him this confused.
"Why don't you join me for a drink?" He suggested tapping his glass.
"Can't drink on the job." She politely replied and smirked.
"Oh." Damon said.
"Elena!" A voice from the swinging door at the end of bar yelled.
Appearing startled and annoyed, she wiped her hands on her shorts. "Um, I'll be right back. Do you want anything from the kitchen while I head that way?" She asked.
"I'm good." He stated.
The way her ass moved as she strutted away made the problem in his pants grow worse. He pushed his hand down on his crotch in hopes of suppressing his boner. Her tight little outfit confirmed his attraction. She wasn't only beautiful, but she had a killer body to match.
The door to the kitchen swung violently as he watched from a distance. As it swung he saw Elena with her hands on her hips talking heatedly with someone else. That someone else was a man and he did not look happy. Only muffled noises came from the direction as he listened in. Whatever was being discussed it wasn't pleasant. She ran her hand through her hair seeming pissed.
Looking down at his phone, he saw he had one missed call. It was from the office. "Shit." He uttered to himself. Taking his drink in his hand and pouring the rest of the liquid down his throat, he withdrew his wallet. Slapping a twenty-dollar bill down, he gathered himself. Every part of him wanted to stay and make an afternoon of it, but he couldn't. He wasn't even going to get a chance to say goodbye to her. For what it was worth, maybe it was a good thing. No more chances for awkward silences. However, he wanted to see her again. Making this place his daily lunchtime pit stop was a thought, but he didn't want to seem desperate. If anything he wasn't that.
With one more glance at the kitchen door, he booked it. Damon didn't bother to look back or acknowledge the fact that he was having a hard time walking with feeling like he was going to bust through his pants. He knew were his priorities laid even if his desires remained somewhere else.