Beauty and the Blackmailer
Amorette Anderson
Published by Amorette Anderson, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BEAUTY AND THE BLACKMAILER
First edition. April 18, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Amorette Anderson.
Written by Amorette Anderson.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1 | The Beast
2 | Beauty
3 | Beauty
4 | Beauty
5 | The Beast
6 | Beauty
7 | The Beast
8 | Beauty
9 | Beauty
10 | The Beast
11 | Beauty
12 | Beauty
13 | Beauty
Epilogue | Beauty
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, as soon as I’m done talking to Dad.
“I said her name’s not Kristen,” Giovanni said again, this time louder.
“Oh. She’s new. I forgot. What is it then?”
“Kelcy,” Giovanni said. “She introduced herself to me when I first came aboard. Did you know she has a two-year-old daughter at home? Kelcy says she picked up this gig for a few months so that she can save up for a surgery her daughter needs.”
“I had no idea,” Sebastian said. “I’ll have to make sure I’m paying her well. Do you want to sit in the sun, or the shade?”
They’d reached the section of deck where Sebastian usually took his meals. He liked to sit in the sun so that he could work on his tan while eating, and he hoped that his father would gesture to the exposed table and chairs out by the yacht’s railing. Instead, Giovanni pointed to a table tucked under an awning.
Sebastian reluctantly moved that way and flopped down into one of the chairs. He set his orange juice glass down on the table. “What are you doing here, Dad?” he asked bluntly.
“Are you telling me you don’t know what you’re paying that nice young woman, Kelcy?” Giovanni asked. He was still standing. He had a hand on his hip, and his gray eyebrows were furrowed with concern.
Sebastian motioned to the chair across the table from him. “Sit, Dad, you’re making me nervous.”
“I will not sit,” Giovanni said. “Answer the question, son.”
Sebastian held up a hand. “Fine! Fine,” he said. It was too early in the morning to argue. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. It’s impossible to keep track of exactly what I pay every employee I have,” he said. “It changes all the time. You know the drill.”
“I know how to run a company, if that’s what you’re saying,” Giovanni said. “Glitter Cup has over 300 cafés now across the globe. We have thousands of employees. And you’d better believe I know what my employees earn.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dad, that’s impossible. Sit down and relax, why don’t you? Haven't seen you in... what? A couple months? Let’s catch up. You have something to talk to me about, right?”
“We haven’t seen each other in a year,” Giovanni said sternly. “Since your last birthday. We had a talk, then, about your lifestyle. And no, Sebastian, it’s not impossible to know what I pay each of my employees. I own a company. I’m responsible for setting a pay scale. So while I may not know each of my employees individually, I do know what each tier in the company earns. I am careful about pa
ying a livable wage.”
Sebastian sighed. “You didn’t come here to lecture me about business ethics, did you, Dad?” he said. “Because it’s my birthday, and there are other things I’d—”
“Exactly!” interjected Giovanni. “It’s your birthday, son, and that’s why I’m here. I have a gift for you.”
A gift? Sebastian felt surprised. Well.
Maybe his father’s visit wasn’t entirely unwelcome. I’ll put up with the lectures, he thought to himself. A gift does sound nice.
At that moment, Kelcy arrived with a tray of food and drink. She set a cappuccino down in front of Sebastian. “For you,” she said. “I added a half teaspoon of raw sugar, sir, and gave you light foam.”
Sebastian nodded with approval, and Kelcy set his omelet down. “And your omelet, extra spinach.” She bustled over to the other side of the table. “And one for you, sir,” she said to Giovanni. “And your omelet.”
Giovanni nodded also. “Thank you, Kelcy,” he said. “We appreciate your service.”
She gave a little bow and disappeared.
Giovanni sat down in the seat, but didn’t touch his food. “I’m sorry, Sebastian,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Look what I’ve done to you.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and examined his father. “I’m fine, Dad,” he said, unsure of what his father was getting at.
“You’re not,” his father said. “And that you can’t see it is part of the problem. It’s time... it’s time to do something I should have done years ago. On this day, son, your thirty-fifth birthday, I’m giving you the gift of life.”
Sebastian wasn’t sure what to say, so he laughed. “I’m pretty sure you and Mom gave me that gift thirty-five years ago, when I was born,” he said. “So thanks for that.” He lifted his cup to his lips and looked out over the ocean as he took a long sip of his drink.
Too bitter.
He made a note to tell Kendall... or, what was it? Kelcy? to be sure to store the espresso beans somewhere cool and out of the sunshine.
“You’re not understanding me,” Giovanni said. “But you will. This is your last day on this yacht, son. You’re going to visit Dayton, Connecticut, tonight, with me. Tomorrow, you will start work as a barista at the Dayton Glitter Cup Café and Bookstore.”
“You must be dreaming,” Sebastian scoffed. He took another sip of his drink, and wondered if his father had lost his marbles.
“I’m very serious about this, Sebastian. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I want you to take over the company for me. I’m going to be seventy this year. It’s time I retire. It’s time I hand the reins over to you.”
“Great,” Sebastian said. “Then hand over the company. I’ll take over so that you and Mom can tour Europe or whatever. But I’m not going to Dayton with you, and I’m definitely not working at one of our cafés... as a barista!” He laughed at the thought of it all—it was just so absurd. Then he looked out at the sparkling surf. “Dad, any chance we can wrap this up soon? I have some waves to catch.”
“Son, listen to me. Listen to what I’m saying...” Giovanni leaned in across the table. “I can’t support you like this anymore. I can’t ruin you like this.”
“Ruin me? Look around! I’m in paradise.” Sebastian motioned to the waves that stretched out around the boat, and the outline of several Hawaiian islands in the distance.
“You might think you’re happy, but you’re not,” Giovanni said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. This talk about his father not supporting him was making him nervous. Sebastian had lived off of a seemingly endless stream of funds from his father for his entire life.
“Is this about that lecture you gave me last year, about taking more responsibility within the company?” Sebastian asked. “Fine, I’ll do it. Give me a meeting to run or something—I’ll make my way to our Italian headquarters right after I’m done here in Hawaii. I don’t have a problem with becoming a CEO.”
“But I do,” his father said. “You’re not fit for it. Not until you learn a thing or two. I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, Sebastian, but sometimes the most bitter pill to swallow is the very medicine we need.”
Sebastian stood up and walked away from the table. He had to step away from his father. None of this was making sense. Dayton—tonight? And tomorrow... working at an actual Glitter Cup Café? Impossible.
Though his father had owned the most successful bookstore and coffee shop chain in the world since Sebastian was just a child, Sebastian had never actually stepped foot in one of the chains. Let alone one in some shabby city in Connecticut, of all places. The East Coast of the US held little intrigue for him. In fact, he thought it might as well be one of the most boring places in the world. There was no beach to speak of, no place to park his yacht. He hated being landlocked. And all he could picture for the weather was gray skies and snow.
He looked out over the stretch of bay that led up to white, sandy beaches.
This is where I belong, he thought. Not Dayton. What is Dad talking about?
A hand touched Sebastian’s shoulder. It was his father, joining him at the railing.
Giovanni patted Sebastian a few times. “I know you’re a betting man, Sebastian,” he said, “so here it is: You’re going to work as a barista for one week—starting tomorrow, Monday, and ending on Friday. If, during that time, you can genuinely help a customer, I will hand over the Glitter Cup empire to you. If, however, you fail to truly help a customer, then you will be cut off from my support. You’ll be on your own, completely. And I won’t pass the company on to you.”
Sebastian felt his heart turn cold with fear. Was his father serious?
“Tell me this is a joke,” he said, turning to his father. “Ha ha. You got me.”
Giovanni shook his head. “No. You need to experience life as one of the very employees that makes our company live and breathe. That means no access to your bank account, son. I have an apartment rented for you in Dayton, which you’ll stay in for the terms of our bet. There’s a bus stop right out front of the apartment, which will take you to work.”
Sebastian groaned. “The bus? Seriously? I can’t take the bus.”
Giovanni ignored Sebastian’s outburst and went on. “And there’s more. At the apartment, you'll find clothing to wear. You won’t have access to any of your stylish attire, son. You’ve become far too reliant on your looks—so we’re going to change all that. You’re going to visit a barber and a makeup artist, first thing tomorrow. I’ve instructed them to change your appearance.”
Sebastian put his hand up to his shaggy locks. He had a professional cut every week, but always instructed them to leave it long. “No,” he said. “No way.”
Giovanni didn’t acknowledge his son’s protests. “As for food, you’re going to save your cash tips, and use them to buy yourself groceries.”
“For my chef to use?” Sebastian asked.
Giovanni shook his head. “No chef. No assistants, no masseuse, no personal trainers, no maids, no help, Seb. You’re going to hack it on your own, and hold down a job at the same time.”
He gave him one last pat on the back. “Oh, and if anyone finds out your true identity—that you’re a Costa—before the week is out, you lose the bet, too. If you lose this bet, Sebastian, you won’t inherit the company, and you’ll be cut off from your allowance. I’ll be off now. A car will pick you up at three here, and you’ll be in Dayton by midnight tonight so that you can start work tomorrow right after your... make-under. Happy birthday, son.”
With that, he turned and made his way to the staircase that would lead him off of the boat.
Sebastian vaguely listened as his father bid goodbye to Kelcy and shared well wishes about her daughter’s surgery. Mostly, Sebastian stewed in a storm of concern that was brewing up from deep within him.
The thought of working as a lowly barista made him shudder with disgust.
He lifted a hand, and
thought about his hair. A make-under? What did that mean? It probably meant he was going to look awful. And what kind of clothes had Giovanni supplied the apartment with? There was no way his father knew the cuts and styles he preferred. Thinking of the apartment made him cringe, too. Was it going to be big enough? Would there be a jacuzzi bath, or a king-size bed? Somehow, he doubted it.
It’s just one week, he thought. I’ll just make sure to help one stupid customer, and then I’ll take over the company from Dad and I won’t have to think about all of this again, for the rest of my life.
Simple.
Easy.
In one week, I’ll probably help hundreds of customers. Dad went easy on me.
Hey, if I’m not getting picked up until three, I still have time to get over to the east side of the bay for a quick surf session...
2
Beauty
“Morning, Sean,” Bridget Belvue said as she entered the back room of the café area.
Sean was standing at the sink, rinsing out a whipped cream container. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Good morning, Bridget! Hey, glad you’re here. Shelby Jackson called this morning before we were even open to the public. She asked that you call her back.”
“Great, thanks, Sean,” Bridget said. “Been busy this morning?”
“Nothing too crazy,” Sean said. “The regulars, plus some high school kids. I think they have the day off for some reason.”
“Oh boy. So lots of milkshakes, I’m guessing,” Bridget said with a roll of her eyes.
Sean laughed. “Oh yeah. I think we’re running low on cookie crumbles. How do they eat that stuff this early in the morning?”
Sean loaded the rinsed container into the washing machine nearby, and then picked up a second.
Bridget left him to his work. As she headed to her little office, she thought over what her regional supervisor, Shelby, might be calling about. It was still a few days too early for the change-of-seasons decorating instructions that usually came through before St. Patrick’s Day. Sales had been steady but not outstanding this quarter, so she didn’t expect any extra attention with regards to her numbers.
Beauty and the Blackmailer Page 1
