Sebastian Pettijohn put a hand on his black leather, wide-brimmed Fedora to keep it on his recently cut hair. Before he left for upstate New York, he had his long hair cropped - a sign to his literary agent that he was ready to be more professional -- and needed the hat to help him deal with the cold, coming-of-Winter air. With his hat properly affixed on his head, he walked into the hotel.
Sebastian removed his hat and gloves and unbuttoned his black leather overcoat. The exposed suit drew the attention of a hotel employee standing near a sign, made of wood and looking like an old-fashioned signpost.
"Good evening sir," a well-dressed man welcomed him. "Are you here for the Beverwyck Health holiday party or for the Husted-Finch party?"
Sebastian looked at the signpost and smiled. "Husted-Finch," he answered with a smile.
"You're a little early sir," the employee spoke. "If you wish, the coffee shop is open. You can grab a coffee or soft drink while you wait for the banquet room to open."
Sebastian removed his overcoat and smiled. "I could use a few hot chocolates. I forgot how cold Albany can get."
He nodded his head and walked away, into the coffee shop. He found a small table and before he could sit, a waitress appeared. The young brown-haired woman smiled and leaned into him.
"Here for one of the holiday parties?" she softly asked. Sebastian looked into her ice blue eyes and nodded: he forgot how to speak.
"Which one are you attending?"
He inhaled deeply and fumbled out which party. "Excuse me for that," he quickly added, realizing that he may have screamed it.
She patted his hand. "That's all right honey, I've heard worse."
"I am so sorry," he said again.
Without missing a beat, she asked, "What will you have?"
"The largest hot chocolate you have, with whipped cream, please."
"You got it, Sweetie," she said with a sugary tone. She turned and headed away. He smiled and removed a small notebook from the inside of his suit jacket, along with a pen.
He thought, "Might as well get some notes down." He penned only a few words before the chocolate arrived. He thanked her and took a healthy sip, getting whipped cream on his face. He reached for a napkin.
"Sebastian, is that you?" a female voice asked. He recognized it immediately. The writer stood, turned and smiled.
"Amanda," was all he could say before she tightly wrapped her arms around him.
The short, young woman released him. "It's been far too long since I've seen you." She took a step back and looked him over. A big smile came to her face. "It looks like time's been good to you."
He felt his face warm, like he was going to blush. He quickly looked away before speaking. He sighed before speaking. "Yes, it has been too long since we've been together."
She took his hands in hers. "What have you been up to?"
"I've been freezing my ass of," he joked.
"You're still silly." She squeezed his hands and looked deeply into his eyes. "The last I knew of you, you were headed out to Las Vegas, about this time last year."
"My mom told you?"
Amanda nodded. "Yes, over the summer. She said you left right after your father's estate was settled."
"That's true. I left right after I received my checks, got on a plane for Vegas, and started my new life." Sebastian paused before realizing they were still standing. He offered her a seat.
"Sorry, but I have to get back to my friends." She turned and pointed to a large group of well-dressed people, some young, some not so. They were holding alcoholic drinks and appeared to be in good nature.
The smile on her face disappeared. "I wanted to say hello."
Sebastian quickly reached for his notebook and pen. He wrote the name of the hotel where he would be staying, as well as the room number. "I'll be here until the middle of next month. If you want to get together, ring the front desk and ask for the room." He ripped out the page and handed it to her.
She looked at it quizzically. "That's a long time to spend in a hotel. How come you're not staying with your mom or one of your brothers and sisters?"
He went silent. He wanted to tell her, as a courtesy, why he was back in the area, why he was staying a month at a hotel, but he was contractually unable to tell anyone outside the family. "I'm back for business," he answered.
Someone called for Amanda, stating the banquet room was ready. "We'll talk later, I'm sure of it," she said before kissing his cheek.
He watched as she returned to her friends and left the coffee shop. A smile came to his face when dirty, naughty thoughts came to his mind.
The last time he saw Amanda Hall was six years ago. She was an 18-year-old college freshman working alongside of his mother at the old Fitzgerald Department Store in women's apparel. She was short -- she was at least an inch shorter than his mother who stood 5'4" at the time -- and had her naturally light brown hair short. Today, her hair was a soft brown and long, reaching to the middle of her back. Though he couldn't tell through her dress, Sebastian suspected that her body went through changes as well, if her large-than-he-remembered shaking bottom was an indication.
Sebastian sat and took another sip of his chocolate. He looked at his notes and thought of a few more items he needed to add, all inspired by Amanda. He was ready to scratch them out; realized that he was not an erotica writer.
"Good evening, Mr. Pettijohn," a well-voiced man spoke.
The writer put down his pen and turned. He saw a tall, rotund man approach, the suit jacket barely held close by a straining button. "Mr. Bellows, how good to see you." Sebastian stood and extended his hand to his mother's boss.
Bellows accepted the man's hand and gripped it firmly. "Your mother said you'd be attending tonight, but not as her date. She didn't tell me whose you were."
"That's right. I'm here as the 'plus 1' for someone else."
The older man leaned in and whispered, not wanting those surrounding them to hear. "Hopefully it's someone that's not looking to cash in on your fame."
Sebastian laughed. "I doubt one novel makes someone famous."
The manager shook his head. "Oh, you'd be surprised as to what some of the women in this store say about you."
The younger man shook his head. "My mom's told me some of it, but I doubt those women would actually become groupies."
"Don't underestimate them," Bellows joked. He looked around and saw his wife enter the shop. "Listen, later on I'll want you to come and talk with me and Estelle, probably during the cocktail hour. She's read your book and would love to talk to you about it."
"That would be a pleasure," Sebastian said. The manager left him alone to his notes and hot chocolate. He wrote a few more notes, for short story ideas, and finished his chocolate. He signaled for the waitress to bring him another when a hotel employee spoke, telling the coffee shop people that the Husted-Finch banquet room was ready.
"No charge for you, Sebastian Pettijohn," she told him. "I thought I recognized you when you sat, but I wasn't sure. Several of the girls said it was you, and we all agree. You shouldn't have cut your hair."