3. Not Set in Stone.

The night had come and past—just like a distant memory in Sebastian Black’s mind as his dark, onyx eyes flutter open. He blinks against the assault of ultraviolet rays, kissing his vision with an annoying ebb of pain. His dark, Nubian complexion blesses the sunlight that trails against his half-naked body. Angled perfectly, yet lazily on the king-sized bed he lays in, after an eventful night of drinking wine and staying home. Before he can reflect on anything else, Sebastian swings his legs off to the side of the enormous bed. Gazing ahead, at the full view of Manhattan, and the reflection of himself in the glass.

After a long, thorough shower, Sebastian grabs a pair of boxers from a hallway closet. Hurriedly slipping them on, then walking across the modestly designed penthouse living room area. Sparsely decorated with grand paintings lining the walls. Granting access to his modern condominium is an elevator that opens to his squinted view. Enormous windows, soaring ceilings and a grand foyer leading out to an equally entrancing Terrace. Glass and cut crystal everywhere, capturing the glow of the city—ahead and below.

Beside the lavish, unused kitchen stands a grand minibar, stocked with the most expensive, imported wines, liquor, and spirits. Sebastian chooses a small thirty-year-old bottle of Irish Whiskey, expensive enough to fund a small business, with change leftover.

Sebastian pours himself a quarter glass, sipping it with a grunt when it burns his throat. Its crisp flavour and smooth, balmy richness coat his tastebuds, leaving a pleasing buzz on his tongue.

His sulky gaze drifts to the antique grandfather clock across the living room. Its hands telling him three quarters past five. The time for him to begin his morning routine. He opts to go back to his bedroom, towards his dresser, to look at himself in the mirror- to be ashamed of how messed up he looked physically. For a man as successful as he, people would have thought he had his own household staff. Sebastian was as simplistic as he was arrogant. He only hired a cleaner after a party, as he believed he could keep his abode clean on his own.

Instead of breakfast, Sebastian prepares a shake to begin his day with the right nutrients. While he drinks, he dials a number on his phone as he leans against the thirteenth-floor balcony.

“Grover. I think I’ll be driving myself today so bring around my personal car.” Sebastian recites into the phone as soon as the other end answers. Before his driver can respond, Sebastian hangs up and slips his phone in the pockets of his workout trousers.

At eleven, Sebastian steps out of the entrance of Park Avenue. Dressed in his expensive, tailored, single-breasted suit ensemble done in a muted grey and black pinstripe-print fabric, completed by expensive but stylish loafers and a velvet, mandarin print tie.

He gets greeted by the sounds of the bustling Manhattan. A maelstrom of car horns, voices, and vehicles whisking by and an eager chauffeur, with a bright smile, and a penchant to please his employer.

“Fine morning, Mr Black,” Grover Meeks, an older Irish gentleman and Sebastian’s driver of ten years, greets him with a broad smile.

“What’s happening, my man?” Sebastian has a smile so bright it pleases Grover.

“Ye sure you want to drive yourself today, sir?” The older man asks, covering his greying hair with his hat.

“Yes, Grover. Take the day off. See the kids. Call it a one-day, paid vacation.” Sebastian replies, fist-bumping the older man.

Grover nods, then hands Sebastian the keys. “As ye wish, sir. I will be here in the morning. It will thrill my wife,” he smiles, content and Sebastian feels the warmth of the encounter.

They make their way to the classy, two-door Chrysler. Custom outfitted and decked out with the most modern of interiors. Grover quickly opens Sebastian’s door, nodding curtly as Sebastian ducks into the vehicle. Grateful for the fine leather and tinted windows as he settles into the seats.

As he cruises down 7th Avenue, whizzing past buildings and other motorists, Sebastian peers out the windshield, lost in thought. It was another day, which would be another endless drone. He ached for a vacation, but he grows focused on the next few weeks of business deals. Deals he couldn’t and didn’t plan on missing. 

The startling tone of his smartphone blares throughout the car, and Sebastian grimaces. Without looking at the screen, he answers—already desperate to end the call.

“This is Sebastian.” Sebastian greets with fake enthusiasm.

“I see you’re not sacrificed to the god of plastic bosoms and flat asses.” Grace Keller sasses over the speakerphone, referring to Sebastian’s night, assumed spent with Kellie Cardin, his current fling.

“The witch hasn’t bled me or plucked my heart from my chest as yet, mother.” Sebastian muses, regarding Grace’s unequivocal detestation, for the lawyer he knocked boots with.

“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she grumbles, yet Sebastian pictures the deep-set frown on her face to his own amusement. “I’m calling to remind you of the new Intern River Kennedi. I already set up the interview for tomorrow, and as the owner and CEO of this company-,”

“Yes, I’ve reviewed her resume. It’s impressive,” Sebastian interrupts, and Grace grunts. “She’s hired.” Sebastian smiles and notices an older model of the mini before him, not moving at the green light. He honks the horn once, muttering under his breath.

“You didn’t read it, did you?” Grace asks sounding disappointed, yet certain, but Sebastian was busy waiting for the car to drive off and the second it does, he responds to her query after releasing his brakes.

“What gave it away?” Sebastian chuckles, amused at Grace sucking air through her teeth in exasperation.

“River Kennedi is not of the female sorts. Also, you can’t just order me to hire an intern over the phone.” Grace quips and Sebastian grunts in response. “Questions?”

Sebastian ponders it before replying. “Yeah. Who names their son River?” Sebastian’s question is unanswered except for Grace mumbling on the other end of the line. “Use your words, Grace.” He chides, earning a scoff of reproach from her.

“Just get to the office before twelve tomorrow, we have to review his application together, before the interview at three.”

“I’m already on my way to the office,” Sebastian informs her, scowling at his reflection in a car as it overtakes his own. “I’m thinking we should reschedule. The internship is already his, isn’t it?”

“That’s nice, but the interview is this Monday, not any time sooner.” She chuckles on the line, already aware that Sebastian grows impatient by the second. “We evaluate him from our own perspective as he’s the face of our internship program.”

“You act as if I’m not in the office every day.” He counters, but she scoffs, further annoying him.

“Sure, Sebastian.” Grace replies with no room for argument. “Your Aunt Vera is in town and wishes to speak about the memorial.” She finishes, but Sebastian goes to a clandestine place.

For the first time since the death of his father, the family all wanted to come together, to celebrate him. A man Sebastian was far from close with. There was a facade to lead, even in the presence of people he barely knew at all. People that called themselves family, yet all vanished the second they realized the last will and testament could not get twisted in their favour. Leaving Sebastian to cope on his own, and manage a house, family possessions, and a company he was barely ready to take over. Though he persevered, he sacrificed many things in the making of his reputation. Things he wished he’d grasped onto, after realizing just how much of a burden his power gained.

Still dazed, Sebastian gets jolted by a loud crash and rumble around him, followed by his chest slamming against his steering wheel. He curses under his breath when the shock reverberates through his body. Paining him, forcing out a loud grunt from his scratched throat.

“Sebastian? What just happened?” Grace asks.

Shaken, Sebastian rocks back, resting his head against the driver’s seat for support. Once his vision returns, he notices he’d run straight into the back of an older car — the same old mini he’d honked at earlier.

“I have to call you back,” Sebastian dismisses the pain then hangs up the phone.

With a curse under his breath and a strenuous battle with his seatbelt, Sebastian emerges from his vehicle. Shaking off the tremble, his body succumbs to vertigo upon standing too fast. His head spins, but he quickly presses against his car to prevent toppling over.

“No, no, no, no, no!” A voice shouts, sounding as horrified as anyone would be in such a predicament.

“Great. So much for driving myself today.” Sebastian mutters, then sucks air through his teeth, exasperated.

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