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.