3. Sebastian
Chapter three
Sebastian
I close the door to my office and slump down in my chair. L’Etoile may close us down? The expectation when L’Etoile bought Dream was expansion—and it is the exact opposite? So that’s why Bob wanted me to get a handle on the financial numbers with Accounting these last two weeks.
Here I thought I’d be General Counsel of Dream in two years and that would finally impress my dad. Instead, an unemployment check may be in my stocking. Maybe I shouldn’t have left Capital to work at this start-up. I knew there were risks, but I didn’t think I’d be out of a job.
My phone rings. Dad . It’s like he can sense when I’m vulnerable. Now that he’s retiring, he’s obsessed with pressuring me to switch from law to finance and work at the private equity firm he built with Neville. It’s not enough that he finally succeeded in convincing my sister, Annabelle—though at least she was smart enough to carve out her own spot in London. I’ve warned her not to trust Neville’s son, Nathan. No matter what. Don’t be the gullible guy who believed Nathan when he was using Emil’s corporate credit card and said he’d accidentally grabbed the wrong card, that he’d pay it back and clear up any misunderstanding. He didn’t. Emil was almost fired. I’d found out just in time.
She understands, to some degree, why I don’t want to work with Nathan in New York. Only she thinks, after that experience, I won’t be duped again. But it’s still hard for me to believe what Nathan did. How did he change so much, from the kid I spent hours playing with around the office on weekends while our dads worked?
I swivel my chair around to look out my window at the people walking on the High Line and take a few seconds to regroup. It’s cold out today, so only a few people, bundled up, wander along the meandering pathway through the garden that now grows in what used to be an above-ground railroad track. A work of art usually dominates the scene, but the Friends of the High Line must be in the middle of changing the exhibit. I pick up the phone.
“Are you coming home on Friday night?” my dad asks.
“Yes,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” my dad says. “The doctor even said I was doing better. Pepper and I did a whole lap around the Central Park reservoir today. About two miles in total from our apartment. We only inspected every other tree for squirrels. She’d say hello, but she’s sleeping at my feet.”
“Maybe you should take a nap too,” I say.
“I very well might,” he says. “Before your mom gets home and puts me to work.”
I chuckle.
“Just talked to Astor. He still has an opening at his investment company, and he’d be willing to train you,” my dad says.
And with that, our conversation leaves neutral territory.
Has Dad heard that Dream is in trouble?
“As a lawyer?”
“No. As a banker.”
“Dad, I’m not interested in being a banker.” The Hudson River, visible through the bare branches, is a murky green-gray-blue color today.
“You don’t have any power as a lawyer. You’re just playing with commas.”
“And you’re playing with lives. Remember, I watched you for years. Firing people when it had to be done for the bottom line. That’s not what I want to do.” I try to cushion the rejection. “And commas can be very important.”
“Just think about it,” my dad says. “Maybe you can be the finance guy who creates more jobs. You can’t do that as a lawyer. And I’m just worried that as the lawyer, you’re the service provider. You’re not the client. I built this whole company, and now Nathan will run it into the ground. Think about all those jobs being lost.”
“You need to tell Neville that,” I say. “And Annabelle will save it.”
Which is why Annabelle isn’t happy with my position. You’re just leaving it all to me to save Dad’s legacy. And to deal with Nathan, who sees the fund as his personal checkbook .
“I have thought about it. I went to law school instead of business school,” I say, frustrated. “I have to go, but I’ll see you for dinner soon.”
I hang up and rub my forehead. Why can’t he accept that I don’t want to be handed his company on a silver platter? I need to prove myself. By myself.
And now Bob wants to see me in his office. Again.
The dull throb at the back of my head intensifies.
I grab my revised draft of the presentation for our new French overlord and head out the door. Framed stills from movies produced by Dream line the hallways. Being a part of the movie business is a dream come true, even if it’s on the business side as the company lawyer.
One of the women from accounting stops me in the hallway. Her perfume reminds me of Melody’s—a citrusy scent. I step back.
“Sebastian. Are you coming to the company drinks tonight?” she asks.
“No,” I say.
She pouts. I keep my face straight. She’s way too flirtatious. She’s like a Human Resources trap, checking to see if I watched the latest harassment training video.
I quickly open the door to Bob’s office to escape.
He shoves something in a drawer and looks up, clearly flustered.
I should have knocked. His current demeanor reminds me of a guilty witness.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He pulls out a folder and hands it to me. “Here are my revisions to the contract.”
Rubbing his chin, he furrows his brow. “Also, you need to socialize more. People need to be comfortable coming to you with questions.”
“Have people said they’re uncomfortable coming to me with questions?” I ask, shocked.
“No. Nobody’s said that. But I—and you—need to be taking the corporate temperature as part of our job. We need to be approachable so people come to us when they have questions—before they do the wrong thing and then we’re in the thick of it, cleaning it up.” He says that last part almost bitterly. “Being successful in this company is not just about solving problems in an ivory tower, but also being seen as a resource, as someone trustworthy to whom people will turn if they suddenly suspect they’re in a tight spot.”
What ? I don’t give off some ivory tower vibe. Is he trying to come up with reasons to sever me so the company can save money?
“Do you think I’m not seen as a resource?” I ask.
“No,” he says quickly. “But you get what I’m saying.”
“I do. I certainly hope I come across as a resource and not as the ‘guy who says no,’ but I will socialize more. From what I’ve heard to date, everyone is expecting good bonuses this year because we’ve just been acquired by L’Etoile. People think we are expanding, despite the last two movies flopping.”
Bob winces.
“At the box office,” I add. I liked both movies, but they didn’t seem to be what the market wanted.
“So, it doesn’t seem like the employees know yet?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’ll let you know if I hear differently.”
“Xavier insists we shouldn’t worry,” Bob says.
Dream Company was founded by two brothers, who are exact opposites. Colby is the financial brain who runs all business matters. Xavier is the creative one who oversees the movie projects. They seem to get along, but they are two very different personalities.
“Colby says L’Etoile is deciding whether to close us down and just keep the New Mexico office,” Bob says. “Xavier is adamant that will never happen. Our presentations to the board about why L’Etoile should keep us is just to force us to look at all cost-cutting options. What’s the latest with the board presentation you’re working on with Ernest?”
“I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.” I stand. “Ernest has to make some adjustments to the numbers.”
“And remember to let me know what else you hear around the water cooler when this becomes public knowledge around the company. I don’t think it’s public yet, but people do crazy things when they’re desperate.”
I nod and then leave and walk down the hallway to my office.
Another not reassuring meeting.
Right before I reach my door, Xavier, our co-CEO, dressed in all black including his sneakers, appears in the hallway. Colby’s office is at the very end, next to the other senior executives: Legal, Human Resources, Marketing & Publicity, IT/IS. Xavier’s office is a floor below with all the other creative people. He’s always impressed me as a boss. He’s so quick in meetings, and it’s just so fun to work with him. And I don’t know how, but he knows everybody’s name.
“Sebastian,” he says. “Great job ironing out that issue with the union. Well done.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“What are you watching nowadays?”
I stop. “I have to be honest and say I haven’t had time to watch much lately because of work.”
“What are your friends watching?”
“My mom is watching Hallmark movies,” I say.
He wags his finger. “I’d like to greenlight another one of those. I need to brainstorm.” He nods, turns around, and heads back downstairs.
He does have his quirky side.
He also seems calm. He’s not giving off any vibes of desperation. And this is his dream company. But even if the company is safe, it doesn’t mean my job is safe if they’re looking to cut costs. Why was Bob so flustered when I walked into his office?
I enter my office and proceed to revise the contract per Bob’s latest comments and mull over his vague—and slightly ominous—instructions to haunt the canteen. Maybe I should ask him if there’s a specific department he wants me to socialize with. Do I have to attend the Accounting happy hour? The folders of work on my desk are piling up. That has to be more important than socializing.
I push up my rolled-up sleeves. My wrist looks fine. Iris Murphy . I chuckle. She always surprises me. I will definitely never forget seeing her half-hanging out a window, Jazmine trying to push her in from below. And her very attractive… I cough. I can still see her grinning and waving the key card triumphantly through the window.
As if on cue, a knock sounds on my door, and Iris sticks her head around the door.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks.
“Sure.”