The stench of vomit filled their nostrils as they crawled into the back seat of a yellow cab. With a deep sigh, Damon leaned his head against the headrest and gave Bonnie a sidelong glance.
"Out of all the cabs in Manhattan, you pick the one that smells like vomit, urine and old onions." he shot her a lazy smile and scratched at the stubble on his chin.
"You gonna tell Sam not to play it again or should I?" she slurred and gestured to the front of the cab where the driver was blasting Indian techno music.
Damon leaned closer toward the grimy plastic partition with flyers pasted on it and slapped a hand against the half-screen, "Hey buddy, you wanna roll up the partition?"
After the cabbie pulled the screen up with a petulant gesture, Damon sat back against the bench and let his eyes rake over Bonnie. He couldn't take his eyes off her face and the way the city lights cast a subtle glow on her skin.
"Why do you think you're single?" he suddenly asked and she glanced up, her pulse racing with anticipation.
"Who said I'm single, doctor Phil?" she cocked an eyebrow and swallowed in an attempt to regain some moisture in her dry mouth.
"I can always tell these things" he simply shrugged and then quickly added, "You wanna grab a beef and pastrami sandwich?"
Bonnie hesitated and stole a glance outside to view the swirl of lights as they passed a few delis. A shiver chased across her skin as his fingers brushed her hand and she swiftly spun around to stare at him. She bit her lip and cast another look at his hand. Grabbing the oversized clutch that had been resting on the seat between them, she held it against her lap and closed her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Damon arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah" she nodded vehemently and fumbled inside her bag for a tube of lipstick even though she wasn't quite sure why she needed another layer of jungle red on her lips right then and there.
"I know this place with some of the best beef and pastrami in New York" Damon announced and instructed the cabbie about the change of destination even before Bonnie could protest.
"Everywhere has the best beef and pastrami" she rolled her eyes at him, a sullen look on her face.
"Does your negativity ever get exhausting? I mean you put so much effort in being unhappy." He chuckled and nudged her shoulder.
"I'm not unhappy" she countered, clasping her hands together on her lap.
"Are you happy?" Damon asked and she chose to look out the window instead. The rest of the ride was silent and she was glad because she finally had the time to gather her thoughts. When they arrived at Damon's favourite food truck, Bonnie's eyes raked over the graffiti-painted container and she bit her lip anxiously. She watched as Damon took charge and ordered for her then her eyes coasted back to the deli guy who stacked paper thin pastrami slices, sour pickles and cuts of beef topped with creamy mustard between two slices of rye bread.
"Here, my treat" Damon offered Bonnie after paying for their order and she hesitated as she glanced down at the wrapped sandwich in his hand. Seizing it from him, she picked up a few paper napkins from the counter and proceeded to follow him down the crowded sidewalk.
"There's a man deficit, that's why women are single. It has nothing to do with feminism" Damon said, picking up their taxicab conversation.
"So you're saying we're not single by choice" Bonnie took a bite and moaned in appreciation as she closed her eyes. It had been a while since she'd tasted something so sloppily delicious.
"This is better than sex" she groaned, a tongue darting out to lock the mustard off her top lip.
"Nothing is better than sex, Thatcher" he smiled, his eyes trailing across her face to linger on her lips.
"Unless you've been having really bad sex" he added, almost as an after thought.
"Hey, I have good sex" she shot back with a scowl that only earned her a smirk from Damon.
With his grin widening, he cocked his head and said, "Just not great sex cause you wouldn't be comparing great sex to a pastrami sandwich."
"My sex life is really none of your business" she snapped again and brushed past him as they passed a newsstand.
"You're right and neither is any lack of it." he shrugged and fell in step with her as he took another bite of his sandwich. Bonnie chose to ignore his obvious attempts to rifle her feathers and focused her attention on the newspaper headlines displayed on a newsstand.
"So you are you single?" he asked or rather stated.
"What?" she shook her head, a frown creasing her eyebrows.
"When I spoke about a man deficit you said that we're single by choice. You included yourself in the demographics."
"I was speaking in general…for the gender as a whole" she explained, her cheeks blushing.
"Of course and to respond to you, no you're not single by choice -as an entire gender, that is" he deadpanned and took another mouthful.
"And how do you think we can solve this deficit?" Bonnie rolled her eyes, looking at him with as bemused look on her face.
"You're college educated and fairly successful but you refuse to revaluate your dating deal breakers."
"So by re-examining our deal breakers we can solve the issue of being single?"
"Pretty much"
"And what are our deal-breakers?"
"You want to get married but you're not willing to marry a blue-collar guy, let alone an obese guy with slight neuroses"
"Those are not deal-breakers, those are standards"
"Same thing."
"Would you be willing to revaluate your deal breakers for someone who doesn't meet your dating standards?" she narrowed her eyes, watching as he finished the last of his sandwich.
"No because I don't have to. You see, there's no shortage of women, eligible or otherwise" Damon replied simply and wiped his hands with a napkin before discarding it into a nearby trashcan.
"You're such a tosser" she hissed, looking at him incredulously. When he didn't shoot back with another sarcastic comment, she retreated back and arched her eyebrow.
"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, perplexed by his perceptive stare. Damon devoured her with a long gaze, taking in her tousled dark hair, fiery green eyes and the pink lips that had his imagination running wild.
"Your hair looks good like this. You should wear it down more often" he told her, his eyes looking intently into hers.
"Thank you" she mumbled then quickly recalled something and her eyes sparked as she added, "You should know that I don't date colleagues. I know that dating colleagues is your thing but-"
"Who said anything about dating?" Damon stepped back, a frown marring his face "Oh, you think that I want-that was not a line; it was merely an observation" he laughed her off with a wave of his hand and Bonnie's stomach dropped.
"And what's with this I know dating colleagues is your thing?" he gestured, his face screwed into a grimace.
"Never mind" she stammered and tossed her half-eaten sandwich in the same trashcan where he'd castoff his, "I have to run, early morning and all"
She shot her hand up and flagged down a cab before he could stop her "Taxi!"
"Thanks for the… cab ride and the sandwich" she said over her shoulder as she dived into the back seat of the taxi before it could even make a proper stop.
"Don't mention it" Damon said and raised his hand to bid her farewell.
..
In the thick heat of the city she was grateful for the blasting air-conditioning in her taxicab as she stepped into Whitmore's office building. She marched down the hall in her spiked patent leather pumps, their signature red sole flashing with each step she took. She had barely slept a wink last night and wasn't sure whether to blame the wine or her conversation with Damon Salvatore. When she arrived at her cubicle, Damon was already there. He was earlier than usual.
"You're in my spot "Bonnie said in a low voice although the urgent beating of her heart was betraying her cool demeanor.
"I don't see your name on it, Thatcher" he looked up, cool as a cucumber then returned to working on his laptop. Bonnie sucked in a ragged breath and tapped a foot against the carpet.
"We agreed, the left is my side and the right is yours. You can't just use the entire cubicle" she bit her lower lip, folding her arms against her chest.
"I like the left side" he said matter-of-factly and she could tell that he was enjoying her humiliation.
Expelling a long breath, she smiled "I want the left side. Sleeping on the left side of the bed makes me more positive. I learned that at yoga"
"You take yoga?" Damon's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of amusement in his clear blue eyes, "I don't know which is more shocking, the fact that you think you're a positive person or the fact that you're a hippie yogster" he chuckled, shaking his head.
"Yogster is not a word" her voice was stern as she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"I forgot that you know all the words in the English language" he teased, rolling up the sleeves of his slim fit blue shirt. He looked good in the shirt, she noted but then again he always looked debonair in blue which is probably why he wore it so much.
"Salvatore…" she warned, narrowing her eyes. She resented the fact that he could make her feel so off balance, so unsure of herself.
"You know bearing in mind that you're a conservative, you would be more comfortable on the right" he smirked, stippling his fingers beneath his chin.
"Can you behave like a human being for a second?" Bonnie crowded his desk with one swift step and planted both hands on it. He was slow to react, a slow smile teasing his lips as he leaned back in his chair. He studied her for a moment, his eyes traveling down her crisp black dress before he sprung up and clapped his hands.
"Okay, truce?" he asked a moment later and waved a paper packet filled with bagels. Bonnie raised a sceptical brow before snatching it from his hand. Opening the bag, she took out a poppy seed bagel and admired the cream cheese before taking a bite.
"Forgiven?" he asked, hands linked behind his head and legs propped on his desk. Bonnie pulled out her gunmetal laptop and set it down on the desk. She waited for it to power up and took a seat, crossing her legs.
"Really?" Damon lifted an eyebrow, "you're giving me the silent treatment?"
He swung his feet off the desk, sat forward and propped his elbows on the desk. His chair creaked as he shifted his position and Bonnie glared at her screen trying to concentrate.
"You wanna toss around some ideas?" Damon asked, rising from his position to circle her desk. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she glanced up at him and shrugged.
"How about a piece on the Iran nuclear deal?" he asked again when she didn't say anything.
"Hmm… diplomacy versus conflict, I'm guessing you're leaning to the left on this one too" she shook her head because she could feel a headache creeping to her temples. She needed a cup of coffee, even if it was bad break room coffee. She didn't bother to excuse herself as she stepped out of their cubicle.
When she reached the notorious vending machine, she glared at it like an old foe.
"He's a man's man"
Someone's voice made her look up and Bonnie shook her head, narrowing her eyes at Vicky.
"Pardon?" she asked, rolling her shoulders to fight the tension in them.
"Damon, he's a man's man. I just thought you should know" Vicky explained and slid a coin into the machine. Bonnie's eyes followed the clank of the coin and the uncoiling of the springs holding a packet of chips in place.
"I'm not sure why you think I would want to know that" she said softly as Vicky's packet of chips fell into the compartment.
"He's slept with every woman in Manhattan, oh wait….you better make that New York" Vicky shrugged casually and reached down to retrieve her purchase.
"Why are you telling me all this stuff?" Bonnie shot back, scrutinizing Vicky over the rim of her paper cup. She took another swig of bland coffee and waited for Vicky to respond.
"Because you're sharing an office with him and the next thing you know you'll be sharing a bed with him" Vicky replied in a tired voice and met Bonnie's suspicious gaze.
"He's not my cup of tea" Bonnie assured her as she turned from the machine to make her way back to her desk.
Vicky gave an empty chuckle, "Everyone says that"
"I'm not everyone" Bonnie replied with a quiet intensity.
Catching her forearm, Vicky warned "Just remember, Damon is an asshole."
..
Bonnie had actually invited him to her place to discuss the article and he was quite shocked after the disastrous day they had at the office. If she was willing to be professional about everything then so was he. He walked past her doorman and pressed a finger to go up the elevator to her apartment ignoring the circular marble staircase on his right. The place was elegant which didn't surprise him because he had already gathered that she had been brought up with a silver spoon in her mouth.
He curled and uncurled his fingers around the long neck of the wine bottle. For some reason, he wanted to make a good impression. He took labored breaths as the elevator climbed and nodded his head in tune to the classical elevator music. When the doors opened, he stepped out onto a black and white zigzagged floor and searched for her number on the doors. He pressed her doorbell, smoothed a hand down his navy cotton jersey t-shirt and waited for her to open the door.
When she swung the door open, he was taken off guard by the tomato red shirt with bellowing sleeves, pencil jeans and tousled hair gathered into a messy topknot. She looked casual and relaxed something he definitely had not expected from her.
"Evening, Salvatore" she greeted and took a sip of wine from the big crystal goblet in her hand.
"Bow chicka bow wow" he wiggled his eyebrows with a smile as he leaned against the doorframe, "I just came by to lay some pipe"
"Where's your tool box?" she arched an eyebrow, her gaze crawling over him.
"Right here" he waved the bottle of wine in in his hand. With one gesture, she stepped aside and beckoned him inside her airy apartment. It was large, cold and fit for a very serious woman like her but the wafting scent of vanilla mesmerized him. She didn't give him a tour of the place but rather settled him into a beige couch overlooking a wall of windows with a spectacular city view. Damon picked up a silver framed photo from the side table while she retrieved a wine glass for him in her kitchen. She was posing with her trophy in her little white tennis skirt but she looked so lonely in the photograph, not very different to how she looked now. He set the picture back down next to a vase of fresh pink peonies as she approached him.
"There you go" she smiled and handed him a large glass of red wine.
"So we need ideas" she said, taking a seat across from him. She picked up her wine from the coffee table littered with art books and cradled it in her hands.
"How about Hillary Clinton's narrative being about feminism in this campaign or maybe Sarah Palin? "He swirled the liquor in his glass, watching as she crossed her shapely legs.
"Is Sarah Palin a feminist if she's anti-abortion?" she asked, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Do you have to be pro-abortion to be a feminist?" Damon's eyes traced a pattern over the skin on her delicate neck as he took a hearty sip from his glass, "Because it's a darn good thing there's no statute of limitations on murder" he added, his eyes lingering on her collarbone.
"Are you referring to the extremists or the abortion providers?" an eyebrow shot up, her wine poised over her lips.
"What do you want me to say Thatcher, that I'm pro-life?"
"Funny thing about being a pro-life advocate when you're actually bombing buildings with people inside them" she said matter-of-factly, "Here I thought you were anti-terrorism or is it different when it's a non-external threat?"
"Do you really want to discuss domestic terrorism versus foreign terrorism in light of the nine eleven anniversary?" Damon shot her an intense glare.
Shaking her head, she rubbed the rim of her glass with her thumb, "No" she mumbled.
"I'll ask again, does one need to be pro-abortion to be considered a feminist?" Damon set his wine aside and picked up a notepad from the table.
"No, but you need to be pro-choice and fight for equality" Bonnie replied and gestured to a blue box lying on the table. When he nodded skeptically, she opened it and signalled to two pieces of cake inside the box.
"What's this, a peace offering?" he smiled, gesturing to the cake with his chin.
"It's just a business cake between colleagues" she said, putting each slice onto a plate and adding a dollop of ice cream to the presentation. Damon shrugged and accepted a small plate with a small serving of chocolate cake and green-tea ice-cream.
"You are a feminist, right?" He stuck a fork into the slice of cake and lifted a bite to his mouth.
"I support humans" she smiled over the rim of her glass.
"How about your favourite, a piece about gun control?" he leaned back against his seat, crossing his leg over his lap.
"I think we've sucked the bone marrow dry from that issue" she drained her glass and smacked her lips together.
"You can never suck the marrow from that issue, it's always pertinent and given the fact that a senator's aid has been gunned downed recently, well…" Damon raked a hand through his hair and finished his wine then handed her his empty glass.
"It just feels like a stale argument, especially after our meeting with Alaric." she shrugged and reached for a bottle to refill their glasses.
"I hope any victim of a shooting never gets to hear you call this issue, a stale argument" he said, accepting the refreshed glass from her.
She heaved a sigh and asked, "What is terrorism?"
"Extremists pushing a radical agenda?" he replied, eyeing her suspiciously, "You want to do a piece on terrorism?" he asked.
"We have the nine eleven anniversary coming up" she noted, starring into her wine before taking another sip and picking up her cake.
"Hmm, and?" Damon waited, studying her curiously.
Glancing up, she shot him a serious look, "I thought you didn't want to skirt around controversial issues"
"I don't" he insisted, the wine making his head swim as he took more sips.
"Did you ever think that blind patriotism can be just as dangerous as terrorism?" she asked and Damon's gaze lingered on her mouth and the seductive way her lips closed around the dessert fork.
"I saw a clip about the abortion clinic bombing in Iowa and given the recent refugee issue and the stance some politicians have taken on immigration and birth right citizenship, I think it's safe to say that domestic terrorism is an issue" she said between mouthfuls. Damon watched as she took another sip of wine, he swallowed the last of his wine and set the glass down on the table.
"More?" Bonnie asked, swinging a gaze toward him.
"You trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" he asked with a chuckle as he rose from the couch.
"There's a vogue idea" she grinned shaking her head.
"I'm gonna hit the head" Damon said, shoving his hands into his pockets. Bonnie smiled, her eyes doing a lazy crawl over his body.
"Something's are better left to the imagination, Salvatore" she said and refilled his glass. Clearly, she was trying to get him drunk, he thought as he shuffled toward her bathroom. Imagination, ha, well his imagination was conjuring up all sorts of things at the moment and none of them were pure.
..
Damon had to remind himself that this was not an opportunity for a one night stand because with her it would hardly be a one night stand since he worked with her.
So yeah, he could sleep with her but then he'd have to face the consequences the following day and the day after that. He glanced around the room in appraisal. She had a white double carved wood vanity adorned with glass knobs, a black and white marble floor and the flowering branches of a white orchid perked up the space. He noticed the lack of color as he zipped up his pants. Thatcher certainly wasn't one for bold and intense colors. Damon couldn't help but wonder how this translated sexually. She obviously wasn't daring and effusive in the bedroom unless it was a case of still waters running deep. Who knows, maybe she was concealing a sex swing or a love seat somewhere in her bedroom upstairs. Chuckling to himself, he lifted the handle of a glass faucet and watched as warm water gushed out. He examined his face in the Venetian mirror then washed his hands before splashing his face with water.
With a shake of his head, he raked both hands through his head and sighed. He had to get it together. Bonnie Bennett was a colleague, an uptight colleague and a no go zone. As he wiped his hands on one of the fluffy towels hanging from the railing, he paused at a distant sound coming from behind the door. He strained his ears to the sound of a saxophone. She was playing music.
Slowly, Damon swung the door open and ventured out into the hallway and back into the living room where he found her standing next to an unlit marble fireplace with a remote control and a CD cover in her hand.
"Charlie Parker?" he asked, leaning against the door frame with folded arms.
"You know Bird?" she raised an eyebrow and freed her hair so that it could tumble down to her shoulders. When she started running her hands through it, Damon had to fight the urge to run his fingers through the dark tresses. They lay thick, dishevelled around her shoulder and he envisioned them splayed across his pillow or better yet, his chest. He pushed off the wall and took lazy strides toward her as if he was cornering skittish prey.
"Wait till I school you about jazz" he taunted her instead and snatched the CD cover from her.
"I'm sure your knowledge about jazz is as skimpy as your briefs" she tilted her head up slightly so that she could regard him through her dark fringe of lashes.
"I think that statement should be preceded by a question" Damon circled her, his eyes raking over her face.
"And what question might that be?" she snagged the CD cover back from him and walked over to the coffee-table where she picked up her glass of wine.
"Boxers or briefs?" he remarked and inched closer toward her again. Bonnie moved back with a chuckle and he wasn't sure if stepping back was a conscious decision from her part or not. Stretching out his hand, he lifted his glass off the table and took a slow sip.
"I don't care if you wear tighty whities under your jeans" she threw her tousled head back her and laughed.
Without breaking eye contact, Damon lowered the glass away from his lips and asked her, "Should we have sex?"
"Pardon?" her eyebrows shot up but the smile remained on her face, although it had been reduced to a smirk.
"I thought I'd just throw that out there, like a pitcher taking the mound" he shrugged, his eyes trailing over her face.
"Well that was a balk" she told him, the intensity of her gaze over the edge of her glass palpable.
"You know baseball?"
"No but I know cricket. So no wicket for you, you may blame your slippery approach." One corner of her mouth edged up while her finger reached out and walked up his chest before lifting up his chin.
Damon watched her finger and noticed its slight tremble when he grabbed it. He paused deliberately with his fingers wrapped around her finger, "Can I put another offer on the table?" he eventually asked and lifted his eyes to look at her.
"I suggest you fold" she smiled and snatched her hand away from his hold.
"You're right, we'll take things slow. It'll give us more time to savor each other's company" Damon addressed her back because she was walking away from him. Again he made light weight of the distance between them when he crossed the floor toward her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" one of her eyebrows shot up and she pressed her glass to her lips, waiting to take a sip.
"Should we kiss?" he asked and dragged his eyes to the rise and fall of her chest.
"Damon" she warned and backed away from him.
"You said my name" he crowded her space again and she pressed her hand to his chest to stop him from getting even closer to her.
"You should go" her voice was certain but her hand was trembling.
"This has been fun" He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
"Immensely" she smiled, biting her bottom lip before taking another sip of her wine. He reached down and set his half glass back on the table, then moved slowly toward the door with her following behind.
"I'll see you tomorrow" he bumped gently against her and opened the door. He stood at the threshold, his gaze sliding down her body before her voice jolted him from his thoughts.
"Yeah, see you at the office" Bonnie smiled, curling her fingers around the door knob.
"Goodnight Thatcher" he whispered, his breath fanning her neck then pulled back to wink at her.
..
As she closed the door for Damon, her mobile phone rang from the coffee table, its sound muffled by the jazz music from the CD player. She took wide strides toward her phone and as she picked it up with one hand, she snagged the remote control with the other hand.
"I've been trying to reach you" The male voice dived right into a conversation without introducing itself.
"Uhm you have?" she asked, the phone pressed to her ear. She switched off the sound system and tucked a hair behind her ear with her free hand.
"Can we meet up sometime for a drink or coffee?" the voice enquired and Bonnie shook her head. She was confused and she could only blame Damon for doing a number on her. She searched her mind for the stranger's voice but she came up with a blank.
"I'm sorry but do I know you?" She finally asked and lifted her glass to her lips.
"My apologies, I got your number from Doctor Hopkins" the stranger drawled and she listened for little details in his voice, sadly coming up with nothing.
"My father" she repeated, brows furrowed.
"Yes, you are Bonnie Bennett right?" he asked, the lazy warmth in his voice coursing down her spine. Nestling down into her couch, she curled her legs underneath her.
"Yes and you are?" she asked, setting her glass back on the table.
"Kai, Kai Parker. I believe Doctor Hopkins told you about me?"
"Aah, the resident doctor from London. So you're fresh off the plane?" she chuckled, swiping hair away from her face.
"Not exactly. I'm sorry to call so late, I hope I didn't interrupt anything"
"No, you didn't" she sighed, shaking any memories of what had just occurred with Damon from her mind. She rolled her shoulders and leaned her head against the headrest.
"So, about that coffee?" he asked and Bonnie rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand. Readily, she agreed because she figured she owed her dad a favor or two.
..
Bonnie pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose, adjusted her tie and cleared her throat.
"Morning, Salvatore" she grinned and he paused at the entrance of the cubicle.
"Is this our new normal?" he asked as he proceeded inside to the empty desk on his right. He set his messenger bag down on the desk pulled out his laptop.
"Welcome to the island, survival of the fittest" her grin widened, her eyes flashing with mischief. She was loving this, Damon thought looking at her.
"Coffee?" she gestured to a Starbucks cup and its rich scent lured him. When she pushed off her chair, Damon noticed that she was wearing a pair of slouchy wide-legged black pants with a skinny belt. He realized that he was staring because she looked darn good in a man's suit and her curled hair softened the look.
"Don't mind if I do" He perched on the edge of her desk, invading her space. As she handed him the cup, it slipped from her grip and pilled down the front of his jeans.
"You did that on purpose!" he growled, lurching to his feet. Bonnie simply slid back into her seat and crossed her legs.
"Just turning up the heat" she smiled with a wink and lifted up her cup.
"You sure you're ready for that?" Damon's eyes darted between her face and the cup in her hand. He was so tempted to return the favour.
"Bring it!" she teased, chugging the contents of her warm coffee before he could even pounce on her.
They spent the rest of the morning working on their articles and submitted them to their editors and fact checkers for publication. By afternoon, Damon leaned back in his chair with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand and toasted to their successful afternoon.
..
"Her body has more twists and turns than a murder plot but she's too challenging for you, mate" Enzo told Damon three days later after a game of basketball.
"Besides, you like porn boobs. Thatcher doesn't have porn boobs" he laughed, demonstrating with his hands to emphasize his point, "She has Condoleezza Rice boobs"
"Patriotic boobs?" Damon lifted an eyebrow, wiping the back of his neck with a wet towel. The city was muggy and insufferable, the last blasts of summer.
"Don't be a twat. She's too good for you" Enzo simply nudged his ribs with his elbow as they entered the cool air-conditioned space of the locker-room.
"No, I'm too good for her" he countered, removing his sneakers, "Why are we even talking about this?"
"Because you like her" Enzo deadpanned and opened his locker to pull out his duffel bag.
Shaking his head, Damon perched onto a long wooden bench and buried his face in his palms "I don't like her" he moaned.
"I know when you like someone and you like her, you're just gun shy and with good reason" his friend countered and swung the duffel bag over his shoulder as he walked out of the room just as Stefan walked in.
"She's out of your league" Enzo yelled over his shoulder, heading out the door.
"I'm happy Bonnie got that contract with Whitmore, it's a step in the right direction for them" Stefan said, rubbing his wet and stringy hair with a dry towel.
"For them?" Damon narrowed his eyes, grabbing the hem of his tee-shirt so that he could pull it over his head, "You think she was a diversity hire?" he asked his younger brother.
"I'm sure she's the right person for the job." Stefan said and untied his training shoes as he sat on the bench.
Rising to his feet, Damon argued and opened his locker, "She is. I may not like her but she's got-"
"Whitmore has a history of hiring certain demographics and they don't necessarily endorse affirmative action" Stefan cut him off, glancing up at him.
"Like you said, she's the right person for the job" he snarled through gritted teeth, snatching his black shirt from the locker.
"You're right; perhaps this wasn't about meeting quotas" Stefan got up from the bench and unlocked his locker. He drew his sweat sodden tee-shirt over his ruffled head and shoved it into his bag then pulled out a fresh tee-shirt from inside the locker.
"She's smart, she's ambitious and she's sexy as hell. Trust me; she's no poster girl for affirmative action" Damon contended, shirt agape as he tried to button it up.
"Good. Now, can we stop talking affirmative action and start talking about how I just kicked your ass?" Stefan smiled, closing his locker.
..
It was a book release party for a book about New York Polaroids and Bonnie scanned the crowd for Caroline. It was a fairly light crowd but she didn't mind as she weaved through them. She found Caroline with a champagne flute in hand; face aglow as she conversed with one of the guests about a sentimental black and white portrait in the book. The blonde looked ethereal in a bird-patterned chiffon dress and Bonnie quickly regretted her black full skirted dress paired with black patent Manolo stilettos. She was classic New York, dressed in all black and looking rather morbid.
"I know I'm tardy but work was murder" she apologised to Caroline, hands outstretched to give her friend a hug. They walked over to the buffet table where Bonnie picked a slice of banana cake from the opulent selection. Caroline plucked a chocolate covered strawberry and tossed it into her mouth.
"The network is giving my slot to another anchor next week" she told Bonnie as she swallowed.
"They're using my slot to address the gun control issue in light of the senator's aid that was shot during a gang shootout" she explained with a shrug as Bonnie listened, "And since my lover will be handling the case on behalf of the district attorney's office, the network feels that I might too biased to do the interview" she finished. When Bonnie shook her head, her brows marred with concern, Caroline continued.
"I mean the fact that I'm sleeping with Klaus Mikaelson does not compromise the integrity of my work." she argued, taking a healthy sip of champagne from her flute.
"And I applaud you on your professionalism" Bonnie assured her and rubbed Caroline's back with her hand like she was soothing a child. She wasn't sure what to do in this situation because she had never had to juggle a career and a relationship at the same time. She'd always been about her career and her needs because she had never met anyone she loved enough to choose between the two or someone to even make her question her choice.
"Funny, that's the same thing that Jenna said" Carline laughed weakly and rolled her eyes.
"I never thought I'd see the day when my career blackmailed my relationship" the blonde slid a finger around the rim of her glass and then drained its contents.
"In this industry you can't always have it all" Bonnie said, lowering her eyes to her emptying glass, "this isn't right you know" she quickly added as an after thought and received a smile from Caroline.
"Perhaps but I'm up for contract renegotiations in a few months" the blonde shrugged and flagged down a passing waiter.
"Did Jenna tell you that? Is she threatening your contract with the network?" Bonnie asked, watching as Caroline lifted two flutes of champagne from the server's tray.
"She's merely a mouthpiece for the board and she was advising me to choose my battles" Caroline responded, handing Bonnie a fresh glass.
"I thought about calling my agent, Wes Maxfield to discuss my options going forward. I also considered talking it over with Klaus but I know he'll make a big legal issue out of it and suggest I move to Fox again because I'm a better fit for their demographic" she explained, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You gonna keep this from Klaus?"
"I'm choosing my battles" Caroline smiled and sipped her champagne.
"What are you doing on Labor Day?" the blonde suddenly perked up, her eyes flashing with excitement, "we're doing the Hamptons and you're joining us" she told Bonnie before she could get in a word.
"You wouldn't be advocating a threesome, would you?" Bonnie laughed, swerving to avoid another server with a tray of hors d'oeuvres hoisted above his head.
"You might be too conservative for artisanal sex, Bon" Caroline teased.
"Don't knock me till you try me"
"Look, we'll kiss summer goodbye with too much wine and too much sun. It'll be fun" the blonde tried to sell her friend the idea as she linked her arm with Bonnie's arm. They worked the party and the crowd, arm in arm and traded childhood anecdotes every so often. When Rebekah finally arrived, she scrunched up her shoulders to wedge herself through the crowd. She looked chic in a green silk blouse paired with black pants and an oversized glittery clutch.
"Bonnie, great to see you again" she squealed, giving the other a hug. The rest of the night flowed smoothly and Bonnie was glad she had gone out instead of sitting behind her desk drumming out articles while she drank half a bottle of wine by herself.
Maybe New York was going to be good for her.
..