Today was the day. This was definitely going to be it. Finally. Certainly, this had to be it. Today, Cyan Steel was finally going to turn his life around. He was going to wake up on time, clean himself up, and finally make his pops proud. There was no doubt about. Something in the air simply felt different. The slender boy slipped out of his silk bath robe, took one last look at his alarm clock, and climbed into the warm embrace of his waiting bed. When he awoke in the morning, things would be different.
Somewhere in the distance there was a dull ringing. Cyan had been dreaming of something. He couldn’t quite remember what, but the smell of clove still permeated the air like a thick curtain. He recalled a sound in the distance of the now foggy dream. At first it was like a faint buzzing, like a fly. Then it grew, until it was more of a drone. He was having trouble focusing on the words he had been saying to that person. Was it a girl? He thought it was a girl. Now he was awake, his eyes still glued together with the remnants of sleep. Cyan vaguely pondered the origin of the noise that had followed from his dream. He stirred for a few more minutes, trying to simply fall back asleep.
It was noon by the time he finally woke back up. The midday sun was what finally roused him from his sleep. He threw his covers off, and felt around blindly for his phone. It buzzed in his hand, and played a familiar screech as he picked it up.
He was late. Again. An alarm had been ringing all morning, and once again Cyan blissfully ignored the call. His father would be furious with him. This was the second time he had promised his father that he would come spend some time at the company headquarters, and this was the second time it fell flat. Last time his friend had called telling him that they were taking his father’s yacht out with some visiting Brazilian models. This time though, he had really wanted to go. With a heaving sigh he swooned from bed and sauntered off towards the bathroom.
Sage Steel was a multimillionaire real estate mogul. He had built himself from scratch with nothing but a few thousand dollars, a number of his uncle’s contacts and a helluva work ethic. Sage had been featured three different times in both Forbes and Times as one of the industry’s fastest rising stars, and the latest projections had him entering billionairehood within a year. Then… there was his son, Cyan.
Cyan had just turned twenty-two. He flunked from two different private high schools, a boarding school, and barely managed to make it through a military academy as a last resort. The theme continued in college when even all of his father’s money couldn’t keep him enrolled at NYU. He cared more about chasing girls and playing his little brass horn than making anything of himself. For the last two years he had been living as a trust-fund baby. His days consisted of wild partying and thrill seeking, or taking the family jet for exotic vacations. He had no ambitions, unlike his little sister, and Sage often wondered if he was truly his son. So he did the only thing a loving father could. He threatened to cut him off if he did not come to the company and learn the family trade.
By the time Cyan had reached his father’s executive offices, it was well after lunch. He had turned his phone off, afraid of answering any of the seething voice mails or texts his father had left. His friend Ella had also called, but the pit eating a hole in his stomach made him decide against answering her call. Besides, she probably just wanted to try and give him another moving intervention on going back to college. Ella was cute, but Cyan had grown weary of her constantly trying to "fix" him. He knew there wasn't anything to fix, because there wasn't anything wrong.
His father’s secretary was stationed at her usual position outside of his ornate brass doors. Stella wasn’t exactly your prototypical girl. She was loud, boisterous, and physical. At one point there were rumors that she played rugby on weekends, and had had fought in some minor mixed martial art circuits in the area. No one ever confirmed them, but she certainly had the body to support the theories. She was thick but powerful. She often wore clothing that hid her curves, but even under the sliming colors and concealing sweaters it was clear that she had a vivacious body. He still wasn’t sure about her ethnicity. Her surname suggested German, but she looked Middle Eastern or even Hispanic to him. Still, she was still too southern Bronx for Cyan’s taste, and she was nearly six years older than him.
“Your father isn’t happy,” she said looking up from the dull glow of her desktop. “He is in one of those moods again. Been looking for your ass all morning.”
“I’m a busy man, Stella,” he replied with a coy smile. “I had to pencil my appointment with the old man after my lunch meeting with a visiting foreign dignitary.”
”You’re full of shit, Cyan. You probably just rolled out of bed half an hour ago. You still have shaving cream on your ear,” she said. “You want me to ring in and see if he is ready?”
“Don’t bother. I’m sure he will be thrilled to see me.” Cyan felt the color drain from his skin. Getting cut off would ruin his life. No more trips to Taiwan or Amsterdam. No more sky diving off the jet. No more luxury suites on the Vegas strip. He needed to make this right.
He found his father sitting at his desk pouring over the floor plans for his latest project. He had a glass of some amber liquid in one hand, the crystal decanter discarded nearby. The room was elegantly decorated. A fitting room for a man as powerful as father. Between the immense oak desk, the custom carved marble busts of Greek gods, and the imported Arabian carpets, this single office was probably as expensive as most people’s homes. His father swiveled his chair to a towering bookcase behind him and started rummaging through a drawer.
“I’m glad you’re here, Cyan.” His voice was deep and smooth, like a baratone instrument. It was almost lyrical. Cyan had been expecting one of his father’s infamous atomic eruptions, but he couldn’t trace the faintest hint of anger in his voice. “I’ve got a job for you today. Figure it is time we get you started in the family trade since you are so determined to fail every academy you’ve ever been admitted to.” He took another sip from his glass.
“Dad, I’m so sorry that I…” Cyan started.
”Save it. At work you are going to call me Mr. Steel. None of this dad bullshit. I didn’t make our fortune being coddled, and I’m sure as hell not going to let it get inherited by some limp wristed nu-male, trust fun hipster, with about as much business sense as a non-profit charity,” he interrupted. “These plans are for our next development in Queens. I’d like to think you know about our latest hotel we are building, but that would be giving you far too much credit. Summer was here earlier and helped me finalize the blue prints. I’m going to have our lawyers and another engineer or two look them over later this week.”
Summer, of course. It wasn’t a family secret that Sage much preferred Cyan’s sister. She was as arrogant and egotistical as their father, and just as cut throat. She was two years younger than him, but had already graduated from Columbia with an MBA, and was working on a law degree for what she described as fun. Even his friends who were in law school pursuing it as a career wouldn't describe it as fun. If his father wasn’t so old school, Cyan would have worried that he would leave the company to her in his will.
“I’ve got a simple job for you today, Cyan. Even you can’t fuck this up. We just finished the purchase for the entire block. Our lawyers have everything set to go. I want you to accompany Bennett down to the site to look everything over, and personally see that each of the residents is left with their proper injunction. They’ll have a month before they are evicted,” he said.
“That doesn’t seem like a lot of time, dad,” Cyan said.
“What did I say? That isn’t my name until we get home. Regardless, it is plenty of time. Stop worrying about them, and worry about our company. We have deadlines to meet. We’ve already contacted several construction agencies who are currently bidding for the project. We don’t have time to consider the feelings of a few families. Your sister would get it.”
Cyan didn’t stick around to discuss the details any further. He simply wanted to get it done and get home. Besides, there was a chance that Chad would be back from Switzerland later, and he wanted to hear all of the details. Cyan found his father’s lawyer stuffing his face as usual at the bottom floor Starbucks. Bennett was a phenomenal lawyer, but wasn’t one for cardio or personal hygiene. He sweat like a wildebeest on a scorching summer day, and had enough folds that he could probably store an entire closet worth of Krispee Kreme in them.
The flats that his father had picked out to demolish were located just a few stops into Queens. It was prime real estate. Easy access from the highway or from the subway, and in middle of a quickly gentrifying region. With the addition of the hotel, the values within the area would surely soar. The street was home to a number of small, squat brownstone buildings that looked like they had lived through every Yankee World Series victory. They spent the better part of two hours dropping off large manila envelopes with copies of eviction notices and legal forms to the landlords or managers of each building. Bennett was starting to swim in his own suit by the time they reached the last building.
The last apartment on the block was all but empty. Only the first floor was inhabited by the woman who rented the entire complex from an agency in Brooklyn. They rapped on her door several times with the rusting iron ring.Bennett drummed a pattern on his rolex as the sun started to sink in the distance.
“I don’t think their home, Bennett.”
“Give them a few minutes. Probably just some old crone living here,” he replied. He began thumbing through his pocket, likely looking for a snack.
“Can’t we just slide it under the door and call it a day? My feet are killing me. Usually I just have someone do stuff like this for me. You know, someone like you,” said Cyan. The porkish lawyer squinted at him through his thin framed glasses. He didn’t have time to reply as the door swung open. Standing in front of the two men, was the exact opposite of what Cyan was expecting. He had envisioned a graying husk of a woman, with maybe a few months left in the fuel tank. Instead, he was greeted by a tall, regal looking woman of Eastern Asian descent. She wore her dark hair in a bun, held in place by two gold needles. Her lithe body and delicately pale skin was stunning against her enthralling red dress. Bennett audibly gulped as he tried to not stare into her eyes.
“Gentleman,” she spoke. Her voice was gentle, but pointed. “Will you join me for some tea?” she inquired. Cyan swore he could smell cloves.
Her kitchen had a certain Feng Shui vibe to it, or at least that was what the woman in red was clearly aiming for. The room was dim with ambient light cast from what Cyan assumed was Walmart brand scented candles. The fragrance of clove and cinnamon was almost overpowering. The portal into the room was draped with little crystal gems hanging from gaudy wire string. Vaious pictures of babling streams, or bamboo shoot forests lined the peach and creme colored walls. A Chinese kettle simmered gently on the stove nearby. Honestly, the room reminded him of a soccer mother who found yoga and suddenly realized that she needed some chi or karma, or other mystical bullshit in her life.
However, that did not stop Cyan from stealing glances at the woman’s long, limber legs. Cyan himself was of fairly average height and build, finding little time in his hectic life to make it to the gym. Much to his father’s chagrin, he preferred those few extra hours in bed to make up for the long and fast nights. This woman though, was something else entirely. She was easily six foot, maybe a hair or so higher, even barefoot. Her body was a physical specimen. She wasn’t like Stella, who was all curves layered with thick muscles earned through years of hard labor. She was more statuesque, like the vision of a Venetian sculptor who had somehow got lost in the far East. Cyan simply found her exquisite. Something about her was enthralling. She didn’t fit the usual brand of sexy that might be advertised to you by a Hollywood studio, but she was simply so exotic. Her eyes smoldered, the slight pout of her lips was sultry, and the way she carried herself just demanded attention.
The woman rummaged through a cupboard. She emerged holding a set of fine china with a hue somewhere between sea foam off the Caribbean shore, and a fresh winter hoarfrost. Then she gingerly placed three circular dishes at the table, and set a cup on each plate. The cups and plates clattered a gentle tune as she them down with grace.
“You know, my grandmother taught me that the key to perfect tea is to never let the water boil. If you boil the water, you only serve to staunch the flavor of the herbs,” she said. The gentle simmering came to a halt as she removed the cast iron kettle from the stove. “My grandmother taught me quite a bit, to be fair. Tea was amongst the least of those things.” Her oddly green eyes seemed to pierce Cyan to his core. She poured the steaming liquid into the cups. “She was the one from who I inherited this building from.”
“Ms… uhm,” Bennett began as he started to fumble through the paperwork in his Valentino briefcase. “Uhm, Faye?” Beads of perspiration trickled down his triple chin.
“Call me Sunya,” she interrupted. “I know why you are here. You have been serving legal documents to every resident on the block for the better part of the evening, and I am the last stop before your day is done. I’m sure you are tired, but it is customary in my culture for deals to be done over a drink. I realize this may not be alcoholic, but this tea will certainly warm your weary legs,” she smiled at them graciously. She turned her head to Cyan. “This is the closest color I had to your name, Mr. Steel.” Cyan studied her and the light blue cups. How did she know his name?
“Yes, Ms. Fay… er Sunya, I don’t mean to be rude, but we really must be going. My client will surely want to finish this business as soon as possible.”
“Lawyers are always so impatient,” she winked at the Cyan. She pulled three pyramid shaped bags from a small cylindrical ceramic container at the middle of the table and submerged each one into the warm water. “I normally steep my tea, but you do seem to be in quite the rush. At the very least, you can explain to me my compensation for having to leave this building. You know this is a rent stabilized apartment complex, and leaving it would put me in quite the bind. Oh but first, let me find us something to eat.”
Bennett’s eyes lit up like flickering candle wicks when she mentioned food. She clearly knew the right buttons to hit for the gluttonous man. There mere thought of cakes and cookies or other treats sent the man in a blind berserk of confectionary desire. He would sooner stuff his ogre like gut until it was even more bulbous and corpulent than consider the possible health implications of such reckless abandon. Cyan couldn’t help but feel some disdain for the man.
“Of course Sunya, that would be lovely. It is only fair that I explain everything to you,” his neck folds jiggled like waves in a tumultuous ocean as he gave her a toothy grin. She returned his smile and pulled a small plater from a drawer which she set on the table. Sunya placed a number of small green pastries that fell somewhere between macaroons and crème puffs on the platter. Bennett didn’t even wait for her to finish placing the sweets before grabbing a handful and swiftly depositing them into his cavernous maw. “Oh, these are simply heavenly,” he said as crumbs rained from his mouth like little bombs on to the white table cloth landscape below. Once more he delved back into his briefcase until he found the last large yellowing envelope.
“Please, Cyan, have a pastry before we begin our talks. It is an old family recipe. I would be offended if such a cute boy like you didn’t treat himself to my delights,” she said. Again, her eyes felt chilling. Despite the warm nature of her voice, and her body language, her eyes felt horrifically off. A philosophy teacher of his back at NYU had mentioned that the eyes were a window to the soul. At the time Cyan had considered it mostly nonsense. After all, he had taken the course for an easy grade. He cringed remembering that he had managed to fail the course regardless. Now though, he wasn’t so sure. Before he had noted her eyes were smoldering, almost primal and full of desire, but there was something else. He couldn’t place it, but the jade of her iris simply startled him.
“Kid, have a damn puff before you offend the woman. Besides, they are great!” His lawyer said through a fresh mouthful. He grabbed a four more pastries and dropped them into a plastic bag he had evidently stored in his case. He tied a knot and put it back within the luggage. “Some for later, perhaps!”
“I… yeah, sure,” Cyan finally said. He took one of the odd looking treats and delicately nibbled at the end of it. His taste buds erupted in a cacophony of sugary euphoria. Synapses fired and his tongue simply applauded the unique and exotic flavors that danced on his tongue. He simply couldn’t help but finish the rest of the cake.
“Now, back to business,” Bennett said as he took a swig from the sky colored cup. “Unfortunately, my client has purchased every building on this block. While you retained the rent stabilization rate provided to your aunt or grandmother via being grandfathered in, that doesn’t mean that the buildings themselves could not be purchased from the landlords or contractors that currently hold the deeds,” he seemed to be sweating more than he had even before. “Mr. Steel has been kind enough to allow families within the buildings some time before moving out. Of course, because the apartment is being rented, there is no compensation, but we could look into finding and paying for a movement company once you’ve found a location to relocate.” He dabbed his head with a handkerchief he that had previously been tucked into his suit pocket.
Cyan found the entire law side of the family business to be one of the dullest things ever. The jargon was simply baffling and the nearly countless and innumerable details and laws to follow were simply overwhelming. Not only did it confuse him, but it left him with a migraine. Bennett continued to talk for some time about the legal process, but Cyan had stopped following five words into his speech. He wanted more than anything to return home and prepare for the night ahead. Cyan was sure that Chad had some great stories to share, and perhaps they could plan their next big adventure.
“I find this quite disturbing, Mr. Kraus,” Sunya said, causing Cyan to snap back to reality. “I manage to continue living within the city, and quite comfortably due to the luxury of this complexes rent. Upon that, it affords me the upmost privacy, something that is quite difficult to come by in an urban center. Not only am I being forcibly removed from a home my family has lived in for generations, but I am not being compensated in the slightest,” she still smiled despite the gravity of her words.
“I understand that this is going to take some adjustment, but Mr. Steel is quite set on this location. The words of even someone as stunning as you could not change the mind of that man,” he returned.
“I think you might find yourself quite wrong,” her ruby lips seemed even brighter. “I can be quite persuasive,” she said. “I’d ask to meet Mr. Steel, but I think his son will do for now. I’ve seen pictures of your father, Cyan,” she turned towards the youth. “He looks intimidating, but you…” she paused and placed a long finger to her pursed lips. “You, are quite different. You’re quite cute,” she smiled again. Normally Cyan would have been thrilled to have a woman so openly approach him. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but something about Sunya sincerely scared him.
“I, uh…” he hesitated. He could feel the heat around his collar and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Thank you? I’m just here for my father though,” he responded.
“Ah, yes, taking over the family business of extortion,” said Sunya. “You know, I saw you at your last performance,” she said casually. “You have quite an impressive talent. You handle your horn quite well.”
“You saw my performance?” he asked almost rhetorically. He found that hard to believe. A few weeks prior he had played with a local jazz band in the meat packing district. She simply didn’t seem the type to listen to smooth jazz in a hipster bar, packed with college students and artists with too much ego and access to family bank accounts that were far too large.
“You look skeptical. I certainly did watch you perform. I quite enjoyed your rendition of Poses. It was quite technical, despite the lackluster effort of your bandmates,” she said. “I only wish we had been meeting over kinder affairs. Regardless, I am sure we will get to know each other quite intimately!”
Before Cyan could respond to such an odd declaration, his phone began to play Miles Davis. The melodic sounds of a trumpet filled the air, breaking the strange tension that had been building like a powder keg. He stared blankly at the text, almost not registering his father was calling him. He stood from his seat and glanced up at the two others in the room. Bennett looked almost sickly now, his skin having faded to a pallid corpse like white.
“I should answer this,” Cyan didn’t wait for a respond. He simply turned around and walked into the foyer. He could still hear the hushed voices of Sunya and Bennett as he opened his cell phone.
“Are you done yet?” Sage nearly barked through the phone. “I’m getting ready to leave and I want to make sure that everything is in order.”
“Yes, dad, we are almost done,” Cyan said.
“What did I say about that dad bullshit? What are you supposed to call me while you are on my goddamn clock?”
“Mr. Steel,” Cyan replied. He felt stupid calling his own father by his surname.
“Good. Now hurry up so we can get home and meet your sister for dinner,” he said. His father didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up. Cyan sneered at the phone in mock sarcasm. His father had always been something of a prick, but at least he could ignore him before. Now his father permeated every part of his life when all he wanted to do was continue his sedentary ways and playing his bugle. He shuffled back through the gaudy crystal veil into the kitchen.
“Ah good, Cyan!” Bennett spoke up. “We were just about to finish,” he said.
“Listen Bennett, can you handle this on your own? My pops just called, and he needs me out of here now.”
“Uh, yeah sure. I suppose.” The piggish lawyer said. He folded his briefcase closed and latched the lock in place. “Do you mind dropping this off on my office? It’ll save me a stop, and your father can find any of the documents he might need for tomorrow’s meeting with the board in there.”
Cyan grabbed the suitcase from his pudgy hands. “Yeah, sure,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t want to look at Sunya, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance at her. Her jade eyes still trained on him, her scarlet lips still peeled in a faint smile, he still felt frightened.
“I’m sure we will see each other again soon, my sweet Cyan,” she said. Cyan didn’t wait any longer. He hauled the suitcase with him and had to use every ounce of restraint to not sprint out the door and down the street to the subway. Even in the sweltering heat of the train, surrounded by the unique fragrances only found in the New York City subway system, he couldn’t shake the smells of clove and cinnamon, still clinging to him in a deathly embrace.
“Now, Sunya, we only have a few more things to cover… but…” Bennet began, but the lawyer suddenly felt faint. He felt the world around him spinning as if lost in a swirling gust. A jackhammer pounded at the inside of his ribcage, and he was drowning. He couldn’t breath as his own sweat felt like it was becoming a lake of perspiration. Was he having a heart attack? Bennett only recalled those piercing eyes as the world seemed to grow overhead and darkness clouded his vision.