To Bitches

Participants:

donovan_icon.gif raphael_icon.gif

Scene Title To Bitches
Synopsis One of Marcus Donovan's campaign contributors comes bearing an offer of help in the form of a shiny red apple in serpent's fangs.
Date February 9, 2010

SoHo

Blue Note Jazz Parlour


There's something to be said for the way good Jazz music can lift the soul in hard times. Right now, New York City Mayoral candidate Marcus Donovan could use a great deal of uplifting. Here behind the glass doors of one of New York City's premiere Jazz clubs — Blue Note Jazz — the tired-looking Donovan sits at the center of a front row booth near the stage, liztening to the clinking piano notes, wailing saxaphone and strumming stand up bass punctuated by brass horns. It's noisier than most places where someone would come to do business, but right now the last thing on Donovan's mind is business, right now he's trying to get away from everything and focus on how to handle this unexpected low blow.

Seated with his back to the door, arms propped up on the backs of the curved leather upholstered booth seats, Donovan's luminous eyes are shaded by dark sunglasses even while indoors. He's taken his tie off and left his dress shirt's top button ondone, bald head slowly bobbing to the beat of the music, one hand slapping the leather and one foot out of sight moving to the rhythm.

Nearby to where Donovan is seated, a pair of burly men in dark suits with ear pieces are watching the velvet-roped entrance to the VIP booth, currently checking the identification of a young man in sleek yet fashionable attire. One of the gigantic men flips the identification card over, then nods his head and hands it back while the more round of the two boyguards unhooks the velvet rope and steps aside, motioning for Leonardo Maxwell to go see the big man himself.

Marcus Donovan may not be expecting guests, but he's getting one anyway.

Leaving Cassius to deal with the more public area of the club, Leonardo heads into the VIP, wearing an appropriately expensive black suit. He casually nods his head to a few people, until he's finally standing behind Donovan's seat. "It would seem our opponents are playing dirty." he says with a reassuring hand briefly placed on the man's shoulder, then heads around to join him in the booth.

'Our', it's a group effort!

"Yeah, well, they can suck it." Donovan casually grumbles as he slides his hands down off of the back of the bench seats. "Chesterfield got herself into this mess, and frankly I wouldn't be surprised if half of that was true. But I think it's pretty obvious what shit-weasel is involved in this little thing, don't you?" He's been drinking, or more correctly, is still drinking because as Donovan moves to make room for Leonardo, he's picking up a half empty glass of rum on the rocks.

"As of about an hour ago I'm ahead of Lockheart in the polls by two to one, if she thinks sticking her fingers in a steaming pile of her own shit and flinging it my way's gonna do any good she's got another thing coming." One quick flick of his wrist sends the contents of that drink down, and Donovan slaps the glass on the table and finally lifts luminous blue eyes up to regard Leonardo over the tops of his sunglasses.

"So what's up, kid." Like some kind of friendly uncle, Marcus waves a hand for Leonardo to lean over so they can talk and actually hear each other over the music. "I get a bad feeling in my gut when someone who's given me a ton of money comes rolling on in right after shit hits the fan in the papers. Lay it on me."

"Well, Mister Donovan, I've had my people looking into Lockheart's past, and present. They've found some… things, but I know you're a man of ethics." Leonardo offers a solemn nod, then motions for someone to bring him a drink. "I wouldn't want to proceed with anything, without first acquiring your consent. It absolutely will not be traced back to yourself, of course, I'm very practiced in protecting my own image, so I'm quite experienced in these matters."

"Man," Donovan breathes out, looking down into his empty glass with brows furrowed. "I dunno, kid. Look, I appreciate all the money you've offered me over the last few months, and I really like what your company's planning for the reconstruction efforts in Midtown, but that's just not my bag, you know? Lockheart's obviously desperate if she's pulling one of these scare-tactic things, but the polls are still leaning in my favor at the moment. I just… I don't really see needing to stoop down to her level?"

Even though Leonardo had waved for a drink to be brought over, Donovan's picking up an empty glass from the table and moving it inf ront of him, offering up a bottle of rum to the younger man with one brow raised. "Besides, I know how this works. You scratch my back and then you'll want me giving you a reach-around or something. I just don't want to wake up one morning and find myself under your heel, you know?"

"While words mean very little these days, especially from a man of business," Leonardo reaches for the rum first, no sense in being rude, and lifts it for a sip. "I genuinely believe you're what's best for the city. I absolutely cannot have a woman like Lockheart running things. Besides, I'm not Linderman, I won't be asking for zoning to build a casino slash brothel. But I do understand your concern. You won't have to stoop down to her level, once this election is over we can rest easy and repair the city."

Furrowing his brows, Donovan narrows his eyes and considers Leonardo with a moment of scrutiny— maybe he's just checking to see if he has a metal plate in his head— and then settles the now empty bottle of rum down onto the table. "Right now, the only thing Lockheart is ruining is her own chances of becoming Mayor. I dunno, kid…"

Staring down into his own empty glass again, Donovan pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing towards the stage. "What I see when I look out it this city's usually what you see, we've talked about it enough before. But this is one of those times, kid, that I just don't see eye to eye with you…" There's a disconcerted noise in the back of his throat when Donovan looks back to the much younger man. "You do what you think's necessary to protect your financial investment, but you know me, you know what I believe in. I can't go signing off on something like this, and have it sit good on my conscience."

"You rest easy, Mister Donovan. I'm the cut-throat business man who took his father's multi-million dollar company before the age of thirty, you keep the conscience, I'll throw myself in the mud so you can follow your goals with a clean slate." Leonardo sits back, relaxing with the rum while lightly tapping his finger on the table to the music. "We both have very noble and similar goals, to some extent, simply different ways of reaching them. I respect your ability to keep your integrity, even in the face of such a, well, bitch."

That last bit makes Donovan crack a smile, head shaking as a laugh rises in the back of his throat and head shakes. He picks up his empty glass in one hand, angles a side-long look through the dark lenses of his sunglasses towards Leonardo, then clinks their two glasses together. "To bitches," Donovan states with a simple smile, "and bringin' em down."


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