Pocket Change

Sebastian stood in his living room and stared vacantly out the huge windows that overlooked Fifth Avenue. The hangover headache with which he’d awoken earlier was abating, although he wasn’t sure if it was the scotch he’d been nursing or the numerous ibuprofen he’d been washing down with it.

The hangover was a result of savaging his way through the bulk of the liquor his father continuously supplied to the apartment. After he’d kicked Alexis out of the apartment yesterday, Sebastian had celebrated with excess even by his standards.

At some point he’d drunkenly opened his patio door, in order to vomit copiously outside. It was that opening to the outside world that forced him awake the following day.

Sprawled drooling across the floor, from street level a bellow of sirens rocketed upward and charged into his ears, a herd of sonic horses that thundered wildly around his skull. Clutching his head, he stumbled to the open door, stepped outside, - barely dodging the still damp pile of puke - and peeked blearily over the patio railing at the scene on the street below him.

Through sandpaper eyes he could see several emergency vehicles staging around a car that had crashed into a light pole. Several pedestrians sat or lay nearby in various states of consciousness and injury. He tilted back, took a deep breath, leaned further out over the patio ledge, and screamed at the scene below.

“Shut the fuck up!” He grabbed his head at the effort and grimaced, horses rounding his head in a frenzy. No one heard him over the sounds of the city and sirens. He spit out into the air and staggered back into his apartment.

“Assholes,” he mumbled as he sought out a little hair of the dog to ease his pain.

Now, looking out the window, drinking the last of the liquor he could coax from the vacant tombstones of bottles on his kitchen counter, Sebastian decided it was in his best interest to head out for the evening and drink and sleep Alexis out of his mind.

It had been nearly a year since he’d met Alexis at a club, and they’d hit it off immediately. He’d grown bored of her in the last few weeks though, and a baby on the way was the nail in the coffin of their relationship.

No proof it was his anyway.

For a while Sebastian had really tried to make it work, in the beginning. No more hook ups, keeping the drinking to a bare minimum, and putting someone other than himself first. He’d even stopped collecting numbers for his little black book.

That book was going to make this night one for the ages - if only he could remember where he’d put it.

While his brain cells swam around in the fresh scotch and tried nobly to assemble a guide of likely black book hideouts, he thought about his wardrobe for the night. He’d start with the shoes and work his way up.

Several minutes later, shoes were being tossed out of the first spare bedroom closet with increasing force, matched only by the increasing volume of swearing.

“Where the hell are you?!” Sebastian screamed at the piles of shoe boxes and shelves in the closet. A solitary Italian leather boot, light tan, was clutched in his left fist as he dug through the footwear debris on the floor. Afather a few more moments of searching and swearing he flung the boot into the back wall of the closet.

“Fine! I’ll wear the other pair!” He knelt down and sifted through the boxes, pulling a slender black box from the pile. The top flipped off to reveal a pair of boots in a slightly darker tan. He tugged them roughly onto his feet. Knowing that he’d never worn them before, he would have to break them in a bit before hitting the town. Clad in only his boxers and a pair of wrong tan boots, he was storming into the next spare bedroom where he’d stored his more fashionable clothes when he heard the chime of the front door opening.

Only three other people had codes for the apartment. Alexis, who he doubted would be crawling back so soon; his father, who couldn’t be bothered to descend from his ivory tower; and Vanessa, his father’s new personal assistant-slash-bodyguard-slash-fixer. Housekeepers had the code too, he supposed, but he didn’t really think of them as people, so he didn’t think about them now.

“Sebastian,” a voice called out. “We need to talk.”

Damn it.

Vanessa.

Sebastian had only drunkenly met Vanessa once, a couple months ago, shortly after his father had hired her. His father’s previous majordomo had left to start a family, leaving a gap in his father’s staff. All Sebastian could remember about her was that she was some sort of ex-military, although he couldn’t recollect which service, she was black, and he didn’t like her very much.

Better to get it over with, he thought, as he called out to her. “I’m in the second bedroom!” The horses in his mind bucked a bit, but were otherwise calm. Still no word from the brain cells treading scotch and water.

He was laying out a pair of pants that would go well enough with the wrong tan boots when he sensed Vanessa standing in the doorway. “What do you want?” he asked grumpily. “I’m getting ready to go out.” He turned and scowled at her.

He’d forgotten how black she was, her suit only slightly more black than her skin. She blocked the doorway, her hands crossed in front of her at the wrists, and appraised Sebastian with an uncaring stare. After a few moments of assessing the room, clothes strewn about, and the room behind her, which was covered in shoes and parts of boxes, Vanessa pulled a tablet from her jacket pocket.

“Your father sent me to remove the liquor from the apartment,” she said, tapping the pad, “but I saw the kitchen counter on my way in, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Dad’s pulling the booze?”

“Yes. He feels that your reliance on alcohol will be a detriment to your future relationship with Alexis.”

Sebastian abruptly stopped fiddling with the silk shirt he’d paired with the pants. “What are you talking about?” he barked at Vanessa. “Alexis left yesterday. She’s not coming back.”

“I can see why you would think that. Who would want to come back to such a loving home, full of such,” she gestured at the state of the apartment, “joyful memories?”

Sebastian was briefly taken aback. There’d been some happy times, right?

“After you kicked your pregnant girlfriend out of this apartment last night, do you know what she did?” Vanessa flicked a speck of dust from her suit sleeve.

“Called Dad, I bet.” Sebastian knew that wouldn’t have helped Alexis at all. His father had about as much empathy as a light post. “He’ll take care of her, just like the others.”

“No, Sebastian,” she said impassively. “This isn’t a dalliance with the help or some college girl you picked up off of the floor of a bar. Your father won’t be making this ‘go away’.”

“Well, why the fuck not?!”

“After leaving here last night, Alexis called her uncle, with whom she maintains a close relationship. Betrayed and hurting, she called the person she thought most likely to help.” Vanessa turned the tablet towards Sebastian. “Do you recognize this symbol,” she asked, pointing to a crimson cross on a black square.

“Cross Shipping.” He recognized the symbol as a company with which his father did a great deal of business.

“Correct. Owned by Pierre de la Croix, with shipping routes that impact greater than a third of your father’s interests.”

Sebastian had a sudden greasy feeling in his stomach.

“Uncle of Alexis de la Croix.”

Vanessa began ticking points off of the tablet, reading them off to Sebastian as she went.

“No more alcohol.”

“Alexis and your father’s future grandchild will be moving back into this apartment at the end of next week.” She pointed to the general disarray of the space. “You have until then to make this a warm and loving place for them.”

“You will a) return to school, and then b) take a position in one of your father’s companies.”

“I will remain in residence to facilitate and...” she thought for second, “...encourage your willful and continued participation in your new life.”

“The wedding will be in two weeks.”

Shaking with unfocused anger, Sebastian stepped towards Vanessa. “I’ll be damned if you or anyone else is going to tell me what to do with my life!” He took another step, clenching his fists in rage, bringing him almost within arms reach of Vanessa.

She remained stationary, tablet up, appraising Sebastian.

“I’m not finished,” she said.

“You fucking ni-“

Sebastian suddenly felt himself being pushed around too many hands. He was upside down - and then he wasn’t. His legs spun at funny angles, and he tried to grab at the attacking hands, but couldn’t ever find a grip. Finally, he landed hard on his back, his right arm bent back in Vanessa’s hold, her legs pinning his chest and neck.

Calmly, she bent his arm a fraction of a degree further. “Sebastian, I feel like you were about to say something offensive; call me something offensive.”

Sebastian mumbled something into the back of her knee. She shifted it slightly.

“I wasn’t saying...”

His arm creaked slightly as she flexed it further.

“You...” *stretch* “...will...” *tweak* “...apologize.” *pop*

“I’m sorry!” He yelled, trying really hard to mean it, and mostly succeeding.

She released his arm and stood up, straightening her suit pants and jacket. “Excellent. I’m glad we understand each other. Finally your father has cancelled your credit cards, as well as access to your ‘personal’ accounts.” She picked up the tablet from the floor.

“How am I supposed to live?” he sat up and whined, cradling his arm.

“I will be assuming control of the finances.” She looked around the room, appreciating the views through the large windows. “I’ll be taking this room.”

She then stepped over Sebastian’s legs, out the door, and left the apartment.

After nearly an hour of despair, a few more drinks from a suddenly discovered half-full bottle, and several more ibuprofen, Sebastian stood at the mirror in the foyer.

He’d decided to go out tonight anyway. He had until the end of next week; that was plenty of time. He wondered if the car service was still available to him. Probably not, and they’d simply rat him out to his father, or worse, to that bitch who’d armlocked him.

“She’s just lucky I’d been drinking,” he tried to convince himself. He’d walk to Vic’s, and Vic would give him a generous tab.

He hoped.

Sebastian grabbed a leather jacket from the foyer closet. As he pulled it on, something stiff dug into his chest. Reaching into the inner pocket, he pulled out his little black book, and smiled.

He opened the book and began looking for a name with five stars next to it; his own ranking system. When he came across Alexis’ name, there were no stars, only hearts, drawn like a lovesick teenager. He paused for a long beat, then tore the page from the book, crumpled it up, and tossed it on the floor.

His swimming brain cells, buoyed up by the memories attached to the jacket, reminded him of when he’d last worn it: his birthday. He smiled as he reached into the right hand pocket and felt the bundles of bills he’d forgotten about. Meeting Alexis had interrupted his birthday celebration, and he never hit that final club.

Sebastian pulled two rolls of $10,000 each from his pocket and smiled wider.

It might be a decent night after all.