1
The Beast
Knock, knock, knock. “Sebastian?” a female voice called out tentatively.
Sebastian rolled over in bed. “What is it?” he grumbled. He recognized the voice at his door. It was his new assistant, or maid, or chef... or was she his personal trainer? He couldn’t quite remember. All he knew was that she was disturbing his sleep, on his birthday, no less.
“Um... you have a visitor,” the woman said.
Sebastian groaned. Obviously, the woman wasn’t yet aware of his morning routine, which was to sleep in as late as he wanted to, and then have breakfast out on the top deck, followed by some sunbathing.
She also clearly didn’t know his policy about visitors, which was pretty simple: No visitors.
“Send them away,” he called out. Must be that pesky couple in the Sea Cruiser yacht next door, Sebastian thought. They seem the type to stop by uninvited.
He expected his assistant, or whoever she was, to disappear and do as he asked, so he was surprised to hear her voice again. “Um.... sir? He’s not going away. He’s making his way this way, and I think he’ll—oh! Here he is! He says he’s your—”
“Father!” The loud booming voice of Giovanni Costa boomed through the doorway, and then the door burst open, emitting bright sunshine along with a man in his late sixties. Giovanni wore dark gray slacks, a white collared shirt, suede dress shoes, and a large gold watch on his wrist.
“Dad!” Sebastian said, scooting up into a sitting position. “What are you doing here? You should have told me you’d be in the area. I had no idea—”
“I’m not just ‘in the area,’ son. I’m here to see you. Get up and get dressed. It’s ten in the morning, for heaven’s sake.”
Sebastian didn’t say that he usually slept until noon. Instead, he did as his old man said, and hurried out of bed. As he pulled a black polo shirt over his head, he said, “Couldn’t this wait until I met up with you and Mom next month in Florence? You didn’t have to come all the way to Hawaii to talk to me, Dad.”
“Yes, I did,” Giovanni said, while looking around the room with distaste.
Sebastian followed his dad’s disapproving look around the room and saw that it was a bit of a mess.
“I should get the maid in here to do some cleaning,” Sebastian said.
“You're still relying on maids to clean, hm?” Giovanni said.
“Just one while I’m here on the yacht,” Sebastian said. He buttoned a pair of shorts over his briefs and headed for the bedroom’s exit. The sooner he got this visit with his father over with, the better.
As he stepped out of the dark bedroom, bright light blinded him. It aggravated the slight headache he had, and suddenly he longed for a cold glass of juice, a hot cup of coffee, and dark sunglasses.
He squinted and shielded his eye with his palm. Immediately, the woman who had announced his father’s visit ran up beside him, holding a pair of designer shades. “Here you are, Mr. Costa. Your glasses. I’ll get your morning espresso drink started. What will it be today—a cappuccino or a latte?”
Once he had the glasses on, she handed him a tall glass of orange juice and two ibuprofen. Sebastian accepted the drink and pills.
After swallowing the pills and soothing his thirst with the drink, he said, “Thank you... um...” He still had no idea if she was his assistant or chef, but he was beginning to doubt that she was his maid or personal trainer. He felt her name started with a K, so he said, “Thank you, Kristen. I’ll have a cappuccino today, light on the foam—I can’t handle too much foam today. And make one for my father, too. We’ll take them out on the deck. Oh, and bring breakfast. Two egg white omelets, light cheese—that feta I like—and extra spinach. Oh, and wheat toast on the side.”
The woman hurried off, and Sebastian took another sip of his juice as he led the way toward the deck.
“Her name isn’t Kristen,” his father, just behind him, said.
“Hm?” Sebastian had a hard time hearing his father due to the surf slapping against the side of the 80-foot luxury yacht. The Keawaiki bay was choppy, and the aquamarine water was slightly darker than usual.
Must be a bit of weather coming in, Sebastian thought. It’ll be good surfing this afternoon over on the east side. I’ll have to get over there as soon as I get rid of—I mean,