Damon stared at the plane ticket on the counter and willed himself to move. He pushed off the sink and picked it up.
The flight was departing from JFK at ten in the evening and landing in DC around eleven the same night. Picking up his beer, he drank it in one swallow in an effort to dissolve the hurt and frustration he felt. He felt deflated like she'd taken the wind out of his sails again.
He rummaged through the pile of cartons for leftovers and discovered none. Then as pent-up frustration with himself flared, he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets until he unearthed a packet of chips. He loaded a handful of chips into his mouth and chewed violently.
Brushing the crumbs off his shirt, he grabbed his phone and scrolled don the names on his contact list. He was falling apart and had to get it together. He checked the time, eight o'clock, still relatively early for a Thursday night. He was tempted to go out for a drink and let off a little steam but he didn't feel like nursing a drink in some bar, having a conversation he didn't want to have while the world carried on around him.
..
As the plane neared Reagan National airport, she felt a surge of reluctance. She grabbed her bag from the overhead compartment, readjusted her cashmere travel blanket into a chunky scarf around her neck and filed out of the plane toward the exit.
An hour after departing New York, her sneakers were slapping against the cement, bag in tow and she was breathing the DC air. She made a beeline for the taxis outside and hopped into one.
"The Jefferson Hotel." she said, sliding into the back seat.
While the cab navigated through airport traffic, she called Abby to get the details about her room at the hotel.
..
When the cab pulled up in front of the Jefferson Hotel, the doorman greeted her by tipping his hat and opening the door for her. A bellhop tried to assist her with her luggage but it was a small Louis Vuitton weekend bag and she didn't see the fuss.
After checking in, she made her way to her room, unpacked and took a moment to admire the magnificent city skyline from her window. She discarded her New York clothes, took a quick shower and changed into a black long-sleeve boat-neck dress that helped to enhance her curves.
..
Washington DC was abuzz with election fever. She could feel the electricity in the air as she entered the hotel bar. Her eyes scanned the meticulously dimmed space, sweeping past the business clientele dotting the space and located a long wooden bar with a display of high-end whiskies showcased in a backlit shelf behind it.
She dropped her light trench-coat across the stool on her right and placed her clutch bag on the bar-top. Signalling to the bartender, she ordered a dirty martini and settled back against the high back leather stool.
The martini was potent and gave her an immediate buzz. She rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension of the flight. Closing her eyes momentarily, she enjoyed the tinkling jazz coming from some invisible sound system and took another generous sip.
One of her sling-back stilettos dangled from her foot while she drank her drink and every now and then her eyes wandered to the plasma TV mounted over the bar. There was footage of army helicopters flying over Syria and an endless scroll of breaking news across the bottom of the screen.
She thought about calling Damon but didn't want to seem too eager. She wanted to play it cool, not too cool that he would tire of their push pull relationship but cool enough that he wouldn't think she was too clingy. Pulling her phone from her clutch, she sent a text instead and told him she'd landed and that she'd call him the next day to wish him a happy birthday.
She was slipping the phone back into her purse when she heard the voice, "Do you ski?"
She turned to he left and discovered an attractive Asian gentleman in a sharp looking business suit. Her gaze slid past his broad shoulders, taking in the clean cut of his outfit, his flawless skin and the thick head of black hair. The lighting showed off his features to marvellous effect but she wasn't interested. There was Damon now. Damon who made her laugh. Damon who made her skin tingle with just one look. Damon made her feel vulnerable, something she loved and loathed with equal measure. She felt a wave of heat at the recollection of their evening together.
"I beg your pardon?" she shook her head, bringing her thoughts to the present.
"Because you've got the legs for the sport." he drank her in, his dark eyes sweeping from her shapely legs to the tousled hair that lay around her shoulders.
All she wanted was to enjoy her solitary drink in peace. He took a drink from his glass and she watched as his chest swelled with confidence. He waited for his complement to register, clearly expecting positive feedback.
"Thank you but I'm not looking for any company tonight." she smiled and shifted her gaze back to the TV where the scene had changed to a burning building in Baghdad.
"Rough night?" he leaned in, one elbow on the counter.
When she failed to respond, he got the point.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, "he said, lifting his glass to her.
After polishing off the rest of her drink, she shouldered back into her coat and tossed a few bills on the counter.
..
Bonnie was crossing the marble lobby heading to a bank of elevators that would take her to her room when she spotted Kai Parker.
"Of all the hotels in DC."
"Kai, what are you doing here?"
"Medical seminar. You?" his gaze swept over her, noting her beguiling dress under the coat.
"Gala dinner at the White house." she volleyed back.
"You win. Can I buy you dinner?"
Bonnie checked her watch, hesitant. As if sensing her reluctance, he quickly added, "I know this great place just around the corner. I hear it's got the best Woodstone pizza in DC."
..
They brushed past crowds of people flocking to bars to watch the presidential debate and the restaurants pumped out smells to attract diners. Bonnie caught a whiff of sweetly smoked chicken, basily lamb, garlic bread, fresh fragrant crab, lemon zest, plum and chocolate aromas from a decanting bottle of red wine, orange peel with hints of warm oak from a bottle of scotch and freshly brewed coffee.
A gaggle of beautiful women emerged from a Spanish eatery followed by the scent of flame cooked food and a trail of their perfumes. The sidewalk dining spots with heat lamps were brimming with diners swathed in blankets.
A leaf settled in her hair and he plucked it out as they spoke longingly of London.
"Table for two." Kai asked as they approached the entrance of a restaurant.
"Your name?" a brunette behind a host stand asked, her silver earrings rimming both ears.
"Parker, Kai Parker."
The host ran a leisurely finger down the reservation book, "I'm sorry but I don't see your name in the reservations."
"We don't have one."
"Then I'm gonna have to put you in the waiting list."
Kai nodded, "Can we have drinks at the bar while we wait for a table?"
"There's a waiting list for that too." she pointed to a scattering of people loitering on the sidewalk. Some were talking in pairs, talking on their phones, smoking and constantly checking over the shoulders to see if a table had opened up.
While waiting for a table they spotted a small gallery across from the restaurant and she suggested they have a look at a few pieces to pass time and to escape the cacophony of the street.
She told herself it meant nothing as they wandered through the gallery. It wasn't a date. She wasn't cheating on Damon. They were just two people who had run into each other by pure chance and had decided to share a meal. She looked at the leaflet in her hands, the exhibition was appropriately titled, The Politics of progress. It was showcasing feminist art on social issues with work by artist from all over the US.
..
The TV screens mounted around the bar were all tuned onto Fox News and the presidential town hall debate between David Taylor and Hillary Clinton. Candles flickered inside small glass cups as they ate their meal. The menu was a play on memorable election moments which the waitress cheerfully described.
She waited for the waitress to leave their table then took a quick breath and said, "I'm seeing someone."
It felt strange saying it aloud, owning it. It had been like a shame she'd worn like a scarlet letter, embarrassed to admit her growing feelings for Damon. She'd been ashamed of feeling anything for anybody especially a man like Damon.
Kai regarded her, "Do I know him?"
"Do you really know anyone in New York? I mean it's been barely two months since you moved from London."
"Touche." he smiled and took another bite.
They washed the pizza down with a bottle of good Italian wine and called it a night.
..
"If a tree fell in a forest and no one was around to hear it, does it make a sound?" Damon asked pushing open the door to the coffee shop and out into the rush of the city.
"What?" Stefan wasn't listening. He was too concerned about the smoker they had fallen behind of when they joined the sea of pedestrians on the sidewalk. As soon as they made it past him, they came in contact with a knot of tourists, cameras in hand, eyes gawking up at the skyscrapers.
"Never mind." he waved it off, shaking his head.
"Rebekah's parents are in town."
"Oh yeah, that's big"
"It is. I want make a good impression, you know. So...I'm uh cooking dinner for them. I thought that would be a nice touch."
"You mean instead of taking them out for an expensive dinner like a typical future son-in-law?"
"Hey, come on. I've met someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with and I guess I got to go the extra mile to impress the people most important to her."
"The rest of your life sounds so final." Damon said after swallowing a mouthful of coffee.
Leaves crunched underfoot as they walked into a neighbourhood grocery store. Yards of shelves were stacked with fresh ravioli, linguini, olive oil and canned tuna imported from Italy.
"I love her." Stefan simply said and picked two boxes of spinach ravioli and three jars of marinara sauce. They passed a selection of imported cheeses, rustic Italian bread, long filoni loaves, puffy buns topped with rosemary and garlic as they made their way toward the register.
Love, Damon thought was such a complicated concept.
..
Bonnie braced herself to see her mother. Being around Abby always felt awkward, the conversation felt forced and the intimate hugs were few and far in-between. She only remembered two lingering hugs between them; the day she graduated high school and the day she graduated from Oxford. They simply didn't hug each other and such intimate moments between them felt uncomfortable at best.
Abby was speaking at a breakfast for the women's leadership coalition. Bonnie stood at the entrance, idling. Then moving forward, she smiled with uncertainty as she made her way down the aisle to an available seat. Curious glances followed in her wake as her mothers' voice boomed from the front.
Once she settled in her seat, she listened to the speech about what it meant to be a feminist in America.
Abby gazed around the room during her speech, pausing for dramatic effect whenever the script called for it. When she finished the crowd broke into thunderous applause
..
Abby had requested that they meet for lunch at Dine, a nouveau-rustico Italian eatery in Georgetown.
She followed the hostess as they weaved around tables littered with lunch crowds and harried serves toting around small white entrées plates and more appropriately sized plates for the main courses. The tables were set with cream-colored cloths and sparkling china. Soft music steamed from hidden speakers but it still failed to relax her.
Abby stood up from her chair as Bonnie approached the table. They exchanged a handshake and a quick smile before taking their seats.
"Tell me about the column." Abby said once they had ordered their drinks, a dirty martini for Bonnie and a shot of whisky for her.
"Well we write about politics, government, social issues uhmm...breaking news and share our commentary on political affairs."
"Hm...and you share your byline?"
Bonnie reached for her glass and took a sip, buying herself time being responding to her mother, "Yes."
"Whose idea was that?"
"My boss."
"I still think you should've gone into law, you wasted that opportunity. Did you know that there was a group of lawyers who went down to Congo to try and establish a rule of law to combat rape?"
"I didn't know that." She replied, sounding flat.
"Christ you could have been an immigration lawyer or human rights lawyer and did more good than this... this blog."
Bonnie sighed with resignation and glanced around the room looking for something of interest. She'd had this conversation with Abby far too many times.
"You shouldn't have quit your blog. At least there your voice was your voice." Her mother said casually, her eyes skimming through the wine list.
"I still have a voice at Whitmore Magazine." She drained the last mouthful of her martini and considered ordering another around but her mother was already beckoning the server.
"Well it's certainly not the Times. This byline you're sharing is your contract structured the same as hers?"
"His, "she quickly corrected, "and I don't know. I never asked because I was too concerned with my own career."
The server, notepad in hand took their orders, two pasta dishes and a bottle of red wine.
After the server left, Abby turned to her and said, "Well you should be worried and you should be concerned because women are nearly always at a disadvantage when it comes to gender wage gaps. "
"Maybe I just like my job mom, maybe it isn't about the salary."
"Now you're starting to sound like a child and an ill informed one at best. Your father and I taught you better than that. It's not about if you're happy with your salary, it's the principle. Closing the gender age gap is the key to income equality...or at least one of the keys. You can bet your bottom dollar he has a better contract even though you're far more qualified."
Bonnie swallowed the knot in her throat and asked "Have you actually read my column?"
"I haven't had the time but your column is no victory for women. It just perpetuates the belief that women cannot do a stellar job without the assistance of a man."
She groaned, she should have known better than to reach out to her mother, should've known better than to leave London for New York let alone DC. Abby would never change. She should've known better.
"Thank you, mother." she said instead.
"I'm just trying to help you open your eyes, see the bigger picture."
After some time the server brought out entrée sized plates for their main course. Angel hair pasta with shrimp, sundried tomatoes, pesto and white wine sauce for Abby and spaghetti tossed with olive oil, garlic, chilli peppers, parsley and fresh mussels for Bonnie.
"The 1989 Carruades de Latife, "The sommelier presented the wine and Abby checked the label, giving him a nod. He uncorked it with a flourish then offered them the cork for inspection.
Having left the table, Abby picked up her glass by the stem and looked over at her daughter. The mood was tens, the only sound on their table coming from the clatter of cutlery on china as Bonnie dived into her food. She applied herself to her dish with zeal because it gave her something to do with her mouth rather than talk to her mother.
..