Under the cover of darkness, Mayor Lockwood enters the establishment from the back door while his security detail waits outside.
"Mayor Lockwood, I wasn't expecting you tonight," Dahlia, the owner takes a long drag from her cigarette as she stares at him.
"I should have called, I was hoping April might be available for an hour or so, I just really need to see her - you know what I mean," his eyes drop to his slightly tenting zipper.
"April is with another customer tonight... Perhaps Amber?"
"Who else?" Richard's voice raises an octave.
"Careful Mayor, someone might recognize your voice," she cautions with a smirk on her face.
He looks around quickly. "Amber's fine. Can you call her?"
"First things first, if you'll join me," Dahlia turns gracefully and moves through the parlor and into a private office.
Running his palm over the wallet in his back pocket, Richard follows along dutifully, anxious to get busy with Amber.
After conducting her most important business, Dahlia slides the stipend into a small safe beneath her desk. "Now that we've taken care of that, come with me."
With a crook of her finger, she leads him up the stairs and down the hall before stopping in front of a burnt orange colored door. She raps on it. When a young woman opens it, Dahlia runs her eyes over her.
"You have a customer Amber, a very important guest. Take good care of him," Dahlia nods at her knowingly.
"Yes, mam," she steps back allowing Richard to enter. His eyes fix on the madam till the door snaps closed.
Present:
Their faces are only inches apart. Damon's eyes are the cool blue of a shark - he looks like he wants to devour her. Elena's not sure who moves first but the space between them closes when he slams their lips together, nearly knocking the air from her lungs. It's so full of tension and desire that she can almost feel it scorch her skin.
Elena finds herself moving backwards at Damon's urging. His mouth is soft and supple. When he presses his tongue to the seam of her lips, she opens her mouth to grant him access and he delves inside. Then it's all tongues and teeth.
She gasps.
He grunts.
Damon's hands slide higher and pull her forward. Her knees spread and he moves between them.
She wants to raise her legs, wrap them around his hips and grind. Instead he pulls away with a smirk and after a quick shift he's standing in the threshold of the side door.
"Bye Elena," he winks and slams the door shut behind him. She makes a move for it but he clicks the locks on both doors before she can even reach for the knob.
"You asshole, let me out of here."
"No can do, I have to find Ric," she hears his voice trail along with the sound of boots slapping on the sidewalk.
Wrapping her fingers around the garage door handle, she tries to raise it but it doesn't budge.
"Son of a..." she blurts out, incensed at herself for letting him kiss her. Fuming, she looks around the dingy garage, her lips tighten at the dingy window and the subdued stream of light that shines through it. Raising herself onto the workbench, she brushes it off and finds the lock, it's rusty and immoveable... Frustrated beyond measure, her eyes dart around the room.
Finding a hammer, she shields her face with one hand while breaking the glass with the other. Wrapping a drop cloth around her arm, she pushes away the glass shards, sucks in her breath and squeezes herself through. Once she safely on the ground, she uses the cloth to brush the glass and dust off of her clothes.
By the time she lifts the garage door and careens out of the driveway, her fuse is lit - white hot. She has a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel as she renews her search for Damon.
"I'm going to murder him!"
Damon is halfway across the room when he realizes he has left a set of dirty footprints on the fluffy white rug. Hearing a noise, his head whips around. Seeing no one, he tiptoes into the kitchen, picks up a skillet and grips it like a weapon then soft-foots it down the hallway, frying pan at the ready...
He holds his breath as a shadowy figure creeps into the room. "Mrs. Flowers!?" Damon exclaims when he recognizes the intruder.
"You're not Ric." She runs her eyes over him suspiciously.
"Obviously!" It takes a great deal of self control for him not to roll his eyes at the woman.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for him. I think he's in a little trouble," Damon tries to explain without going into detail.
"Maybe I should call the cops?" Mrs. Flowers pulls her cellphone out of her sweater pocket.
"No! You don't want to do that?"
"I don't?"
"No," Damon shakes his head.
"What kind of trouble? Money trouble? Drug trouble? Sex trouble?" her eyes visibly drop to his zipper.
"Something like that. We were supposed to meet, he was a no show."
"Oh," she smiles knowingly. "Well, did you check Kai's bar?"
Damon brushes off her comment. "Yeah, I did, no luck."
I've had a lousy week, too. I've had to play nurse for my cousin Harriet. She decided to go skinny dipping," she rolls her eyes. "The rocks were slippery with moss, she went head over feet and had to be plucked out before she drowned."
"Oh, Mrs. Flowers, I'm sorry."
"She's fine, had to be rescued by a young whippersnapper like yourself. A grown woman really ought to know how to swim," she shakes her head.
Damon looks at her strangely for a moment. "True...anyway. Mind if I take a quick look around?
The landlady thinks this over. "I suppose, just lock the door on your way out." she rakes her eyes over him then turns and leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.
Elena's been telling herself she doesn't give a rat's ass about Damon anymore but deep down inside; she wants him to hold a tender feeling for her and what they shared together.
"This isn't the time, Elena, you need to find him," she again grips the steering wheel so hard her nailbeds turn white. When she pulls up at stop sign, she picks up her phone and puts it on speaker.
"Hey Elena," Anna answers cheerfully.
"Look I had him but he got away, I know a few of his hangouts though... just don't rat me out to Jeremy okay? I need that money."
"No problem girl, I'll just tell him I haven't heard from you. I have to go," she clicks off the phone.
Elena suspects that maybe Jeremy appeared or something. Tossing her phone into the passenger seat, she drives back to Damon's place and parks outside of the fancy brownstone.
She sips from her soda and watches as a woman with a beagle emerges from the building, struggling with the heavy door.
Sensing an opportunity, Elena runs over and holds it open for her. "Cute dog," she remarks, forcing her lips into a smile.
The woman considers her, mumbles a thank you under her breath and takes off down the stairs while Elena slips inside, her eyes scanning the row of mail boxes. She takes the stairs to the 4th floor and stops in front of 408, and knocks on the door. "FTD floral," she calls aloud, trying to disguise her voice.
No one answers, Elena looks around then pulls a pick out of her bag and works the lock. Looking over her shoulders one more time, she slips inside, pulling the door closed behind her. It's dark and quiet. She glides through the room, scoping it out. The place hasn't changed much. It's still very Damon, oriental rug, leather couch, big flat screen TV, fully stocked bar. Lining the bookshelves are family photos, pictures of him with various public figures, journalistic awards...
Sitting down on the couch, Elena crosses her leg and starts swinging it dramatically as she stares at a picture of Damon and wonders if she should simply wait for him or...
Damon is about to give up when he spots, peeking out from the bookshelf, a plain envelope marked Dahlia. He slips it into his inner jacket pocket just as Mrs. Flowers reappears.
"You've been snooping around long enough now, Damon. Did you find anything? "
"Nope," he shakes his head, "Not a thing. "
"Too bad," she gestures for him to leave and when he does, she closes and locks the door.
Damon can feel her eyes burning into the back of his head as he exits the building.
After swiping one of Damon's beers, Elena leaves his place, figuring quickly that he probably won't return anytime soon. Driving through the city, she keeps her eyes open, noticing pedestrians on the sidewalk, others at the crosswalk when she's stuck at a red light.
Driving past a casino, she notices how the sun sparkles off the big windows. "Esther, of course," she makes an illegal u turn, speeds through a yellow traffic light and parks her car.
Elena approaches the lobby, taking in the bright sunlight, the sound of falling water, and striking Native American sculptures. The guards in the doorways are vigilant, and whatever they miss; usually the security cameras catch.
Inside, the ceiling lights are muted, allowing the glow of a thousand slot machines to fill the room. In the center of the casino, guarded by rows and rows of slots, are the gaming tables, craps, poker, blackjack and roulette.
The slot machines sound more or less the same: jangly music, the whir of spinning reels accompanied by loud beeps and cha-chings. The gamblers are serious, focusing on their machines. They sit back, lean forward, draw deeply on cigarettes and play.
Shaking her head, Elena will never understand the allure of throwing money away when the odds are so stacked against winning. Working her way through the crowd, she looks around for security before stealthily slipping through the door that leads to the dressing rooms behind the stage. Sucking in a breath, she knocks on the door.
A woman in heavy makeup, Damon's flamboyant aunt Esther opens it, takes one look at her and slams it closed. Elena shakes her head, waits and after a few seconds, it cracks open again.
"Nice to see you too, Esther," Elena glares at her.
"What are you doing here? I shouldn't give you the time of day after what you did to my favorite nephew," she glares at Elena.
"Yeah I know, it's all my fault," Elena grits her teeth together. "Can I come in?"
Men and women are running around in gowns and feather boas, Esther steps inside, sits down at her vanity, picks up her wig and adjusts it. Stuck to the rim of the mirror is a photo of Damon and herself, arms around each other and smiling. Elena scrunches her nose at it.
"You started a new show?"
"I needed a change, the other one ran for five years. Help me with this would you?" She stands and wiggles into an evening gown. Elena struggles to raise the zipper.
"Where is he Esther, I need to talk to him?"
"Why should I help you after what you did? Why Elena?"
"Esther, that's all water under the bridge at this point," she answers tersely, not willing to get into it with Damon's aunt.
"Listen to me, Damon may be aloof, full of bluster and snark but he wants to be loved too. What happened between you two devastated him."
"Devastated? Really Esther?" Elena's not buying her act one bit. "That's a little melodramatic even for you! He's an award-winning journalist and has no shortage of women wanting a piece of him."
"Well, yes, he has done well," she beams.
"Do you know where I can find him?"
"His exact words were that he needed a place to think, said he's working on the biggest story of his career. Mentioned he had to lay low till he can figure it all out, said the repercussions would be huge."
As Elena listens to her, a big grin breaks out on her face. "Thanks Esther, gotta run," she waves with her fingers then quickly makes her escape.
Thank you all so very much. As my friend jmfangs says, "DE people are the best people" Go read her, 'Quarantine Olympics', it's really good.
Thank you Eva.
Chapter title: 'Fox On The Run' by Sweet.
Hope you all have a wonderful day.