Ian Cros

Three Weeks Before His Demise.

"No, Mom, I just landed. Where are you?" I held my cell phone to my ear, smiling at the flight attendant with my backpack hanging off one shoulder.

I waited for first class to move as I hovered over my seat. The older lady with thick highlights stopped at the plane door, pointing her finger at her bag. She smiled at the pilot, talking nonsense.

"Honey, I'm not in New York," Mom said. "I'm in LA."

I huffed out, grabbing the champagne glass I did not finish and downing it. "What? But I thought I was meeting you today at Jean-Georges. Is this why the private jet was not available for me today?"

"Yes, the jet is in LA with me. I have a reservation for you at Jean-Georges for lunch after the long plane ride." Her voice sounded like a child on the phone every time she lied. "Paul should be there to pick you up."

I followed behind the rich business guy to the doors of the plane. "Why would I want to go to lunch by myself?" I asked, smiling with a wave at the pilot while I stepped off the plane.

"It's your favorite restaurant," she replied.

I rolled my eyes, pausing on the boarding bridge and leaning against the tunnel glass. "That's your favorite restaurant, not mine," I said, watching people walk by me.

"Ian, I will be there soon," she said, adding an annoyed huff.

"When?"

"I have to go," she sounded childish. "Love you, bye."

The phone clicked before I responded. "Bye," I said to nobody in a sad tone. I clicked on the messages, seeing a text from that Emily girl. I opened it before closing it quickly, scrapping the red icon, flipping my device closed, and pocketing it in my dress khakis without reading what she wrote.

I walked behind a couple of girls as they kept stealing glances over their shoulders at me. Their schoolgirl plaid skirts hung to their knees while white socks stretched up their legs. The blonde one giggled to her friend, shoving her slightly before turning around to face me.

"Hey," she said, pulling at her hair.

"Hey," I replied with a smirk, glancing at her white button-up shirt, seeing it was untucked.

"I'm Selena, and this is my friend Ann."

I glanced at Ann, seeing her shirt tucked in with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her freckles peppered on her cheeks slightly as she tried to hide them with makeup.

"Is this your first time in New York?" Selena said, biting her bottom lip and playing with her hair.

"No, my parents own a penthouse here," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Ann pointed at me with a shocked expression. "Wait, I know who you are!" she yelled, pulling on Selena's arm. "It's Ian Cros," she whispered to Selena.

I scratched the back of my head. "Yep, that is me."

Selena wrapped her arm around mine, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Wow, you must be meeting up with your famous girlfriend."

I grabbed her hand, removing her arm from mine. "Sorry, ladies, but you are not hot enough for jail." I walked past them.

Ann laughed while Selena ran up before me. "We are in college," she said.

I pointed at their uniforms, thinking they were some private high school requirement. "What's with the attire?"

Selena relaxed her shoulders, pouting out her bottom lip. "Our asshole boss is totally lame."

"Okay," I replied vaguely, glancing at the baggage claim and seeing Paul, my parent's assistant, grabbing my suitcase.

Paul noticed me with a wave and tapped his wristwatch, telling me to move. I held up my hand, giving him a none-waving wave.

"So, there is this rooftop party tonight. If you want to join?" Selena shoved Ann, whispering something to her.

"Rooftop?" I questioned. "In this weather?"

"Yes," Selena replied with excitement that could fuel the sun. "There is this new invention where it's like a lamp and heats the surrounding air."

My confused look must have said everything, while Ann shook her head in disbelief at her friend's statement.

"It's not new, Selena," Ann whispered with her cheeks turning red.

Selena's shocked expression changed into a giggle as she popped the gum inside her mouth. "Oops," she said, acting dumb on purpose.

Paul threw his hands up, giving an angry expression. I glanced at Selena and Ann as they prayed for me to say yes.

"Sure, where is it at?" I asked.

"Empire Hotel," Ann responded. "Our rich friend's mom booked the full roof for her birthday."

"Thank you, ladies," I responded with a smirk, walking around them.

I could hear their laughter behind me as I approached Paul. He pulled out his blackberry and read the screen. "Hello, Mr. Cros," he said with an Italian accent. "Looks like your reservation is soon, and then your dad has a meeting planned." He shifted the black hat on his head.

"What meeting?" I asked, annoyed.

"He just has it on your calendar." Paul placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the car while he pulled my suitcase behind him.

The winter wind blew inside, flapping Paul's trench coat as he walked beside me. The chilly air caused me to wrap my arms around my torso as the blazer didn't give me very much warmth.

"Of course, this tyrant has a meeting planned for me," I said while Paul opened the car door. "I'm back in New York for less than two weeks, and he already wants to control me."

Paul laughed while pulling off his hat. "Your dad only wants the best for you."

I rolled my eyes, getting into the backseat before Paul shut the door. He ran to the back, tossing my stuff into the trunk before hopping into the driver's seat. Paul looked over his shoulder, pulling out of the airport.

I leaned my head against the window as the hour passed by. My eyes glazed over from the large buildings while snow floated from the trees into the streets.

"The weather reporter said we will be in the high forties and low thirties while you are here," Paul said from the front. "I recommend you invest in a thicker jacket, sir."

"Yeah, I have one in my suitcase," I informed him while leaning over and looking out the front window.

The snow thickened onto the glass before we dipped into the tunnel, crossing through the East River. The dark tunnel filled with crowded cars as I glanced at the motorcyclists driving beside us. He must have felt me staring because he glanced over and sped up as the sunlight shined at the end of the bridge, bringing us out of the tunnel to see the brick wall.

"Almost there," Paul said, turning down a road and pulling up to the Trump International Hotel.

Paul put the car into park, jumping into traffic. The cars honked at him as he opened the door for me. I stepped into the cold, splashing my dress shoes on the brown snow.

"Have a great lunch, Mr. Cros."

I nodded at Paul and walked up the stairs into the hotel where the restaurant occupied. A girl in a tight black dress and hair up in a bun approached me with her hand out.

"Mr. Cros, it has been a while," she said, touching my elbow. "Your table is this way. Sorry to hear that Rebecca will not be joining you today." She smiled at me with a fake expression. "I was looking forward to seeing her."

"Actually," I said, pausing and glancing at the bar. "I'll just take a stool at the bar since I am by myself."

She froze, blinking like a robot out of sync. "O-okay." Her voice changed to a higher pitch as she motioned her hands toward the bar. "Billy, Mr. Cros will be at the bar today."

I smiled at the young man, taking my dress coat off. The hostess took my jacket before tapping her nails on the countertop.

"Please, get him one of the signature cocktails on the house." She glared at him. "Make it The Manhattan."

"Actually, I'm not drinking," I said, causing Billy to pause with a glass in his hand.

The hostess grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them. "Oh, young boy, your mom preordered for you."

I fake smiled at her and rolled my eyes when she glanced at Billy to continue. She clapped her hands together, happy to control everything.

"Okay, I will put your lunch order in and be back with you. Your mom selected the best." She walked away with her heels echoing through the restaurant.

The Manhattan cocktail slid before me as Billy set a napkin down. "Enjoy," he said and returned to a man on the other end of the bar.

I rubbed my temples, frustrated with my parents controlling my day already. "Fucking ridiculous," I whispered, grabbing the toothpick with the black cherries and popping them in my mouth.

I took the skewer, stirring around the brownish-red liquid in the glass. The music played quietly as mumbles from the rich people ate their lunch. I glanced toward the kitchen, seeing the chefs pacing while the wealthy decided their worth.

"Not your taste?" Billy asked as he leaned against the counter.

"Nah," I replied with a smirk. "I've never been a cocktail guy." I tossed the toothpick into the glass. "Don't tell my controlling mother."

Billy put his palms up, showing me his white flag. "I keep my words to a minimum around Rebecca Cros."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Wish I could do the same." I looked over my shoulder, then back at Billy. Maybe he will be my key to escaping my day. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

Billy grinned, uneasy with my statement. "I don't know, man," he replied, drying a glass and placing it under the bar.

I pulled out my wallet, placing a twenty on the counter. "All I need is the employee exit," I said, sliding Andrew Jackson across the bar toward him.

He danced his eyes between the bill and me while the hostess's voice echoed in the kitchen. Her screeching bossiness caused Billy to scratch the back of his neck.

"Billy!" she yelled, walking toward us.

"Backside of the kitchen," he whispered, grabbing the twenty and placing it in his apron. "What can I get for you, Ashley?" he asked loudly.

"The Gardner family would like a bottle of Chardonnay, and there aren't any in the back. What do you have?" she asked, with her fingernails dancing on the bar.

Billy turned to search his bar while she smiled at me. "How is the cocktail, Mr. Cros?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Everything I've dreamed of."

Ashley clicked her heels around a few stools, stepping closer to me. "You are such a sweet boy," she said, gripping my thigh.

I jumped a little as her hand neared my lunch box. "Oh," I replied, grabbing her wrist with a smile. "Thank you."

She leaned her face closer. "I'm off at five today," she whispered.

"Here, Ashley," Billy said, while setting the bottle of wine on the surface.

Ashley smiled at him, wrapping her long fingers around the bottle. She rushed off without saying a word to Billy as I stood up, realizing I would need to ditch the coat I gave Ashley earlier.

"Thank you, Billy," I said, picking up the cocktail and downing it without tasting it.

I walked toward the kitchen, fishing in the back pocket of my khakis for my favorite red beanie. Slipping it on my head, I stepped outside into the chilly streets.

With my head down and arms over my chest, I glanced at Paul waiting for me in the car. I raced by his window, seeing him playing snake on the phone without him seeing me.

I looked down the street, seeing my opening as I crossed the busy traffic. A horn honked at me while I waved my middle finger in its direction.

"Oh, fuck off!" I yelled right before stepping into Central Park.

The snow fell from the trees as the wind blew the specks off the branches. Rubbing my hands together, I exhaled into my palms to warm them up. I followed the path toward the pond before the night sky darkened the park.

A loud bang behind me had everyone jumping. The guy before me wrapped his arm around his girl, glancing behind us with fear.

Another loud shot echoed as piercing pain stung my ears. A girl beside me screamed with fear. I cupped my palms over my temples, glancing over with widened eyes.

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