RED SOX: Even though they lost, they looked adorable in those green uniforms celebrating the Celtics' 17th Championship.
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"Why would any sane person think this is an important news story?" Sage grumbled.
Her eyes were fixed on the ballroom's monitor in the back staging area. The gaggle of reporters gathered was much larger than she expected. Her nerves were fraying at the very sight of them even with most of the Sebastian clan surrounding her; protecting her. She was growing more unsure by the moment as to how she would handle facing the mob with only J. Granville and Simone at her elbows.
"Don't look so worried," one half of the twin middle brothers, Child-Hassam, advised. "It fires them up into a pack mentality."
The other half, Cade, chuckled right on cue. He called his clarification to the remark from the bar across the room.
"Don't listen to him, babe. Reporters are more like sharks. Fear is like blood for them. If they smell your fear then it's going to be a wild feeding frenzy."
"That's enough," Simone pushed past the ever silent, brooding elder brother Gareth, to take Sage by the shoulders. "They're teasing you, sweetheart. Ignore them."
Sage tried to swallow down her mounting panic. She let Simone fuss with her clothes. The older woman's quiet approval reassured her.
"I would not have picked this blouse out for you but I do like it," Simone said as she adjusted the upturned collar of Sage's black shirt.
"Look," J. Granville sounded quite unhappy, "if I say the dungarees and sneakers are perfect will you take the du-rag off?"
Simone smirked at Sage, "Listen to your father getting down with his bad self."
Brook and the boys tried to suppress their laughs. They had little success in the endeavor. Simone let them have their fun for a few minutes before bringing the family to order.
"I hate to admit it but Cade is right. Reporters are little more than vultures who thrive on fear, other people's fear. Don't let them see how frightened you are," Simone advised as she ran her finger tips lightly up and down Sage's trembling arms.
"How?" Sage heard her voice quiver.
J. Granville cleared his own throat, "Instead of imagining them naked, why don't you pretend they're all me? That usually gives you the bad assed look I've come to expect from you."
Sage shot him a sour gaze.
"There's my girl, just do that."
The five minute warning knock at the door stopped any escalation of the exchange into a full fledged fight. Simone took Sage's hand and led her across the room to J. Granville.
"Take your father's arm, Dear. Lean on him this once," Simone directed but Sage understood it was a request.
With a dramatic sigh, Sage obeyed.
"…and so, after ten years," the power point program flashed a dated black and white photograph of the hotel on the wall sized screen to the left of where J. Granville stood at the podium, "and a couple of hundred bucks," he paused for the light laughter which politely followed, "the Harbor Bostonian Hotel enters its final stage of the renovation project. I am happy to announce the enhancement of the eastern façade will begin in March. The damaged upper cornerstones will be replaced with sculptures which befit such a venerable architectural treasure as HBH is."
The photograph morphed into a full color current photograph. The pictured faded and refreshed with another angle of the building only to fade and be refreshed again with an ever changing perspective. Even from the still images, the hotel's grandeur shined bright. The crowd broke into spontaneous applause when the restored dome appeared in all its gilded glory.
"As pleased as I am with the results of our efforts, it is only a small fraction of the joy I feel introducing the artist whose hands will render the sculptures," J. Granville paused more to control his emotions than for dramatic license. "Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please welcome the artist ArtBoston called the Next Best Thing 2007, Mass Art blessed as The Name to Buy 2008, and who's first gallery engagement last month sold out all thirty pieces in less than thirty minutes. It is with no small amount of pride, I introduce to you my daughter, Sage Sebastian."
Sage's attention was so centered on J. Granville she barely noticed the applause or snapping camera flashes. J. Granville turned away from the podium and wrapped her in a bear hug. The man was softly weeping. She had no idea what to do. Simone's hand on her shoulder balanced her.
"I love you so much," J. Granville whispered in Sage's ear. "Now, give 'em a sound bite so we can get out of here."
Sage felt momentarily lost when J. Granville and Simone stepped away from her in the same instant. The flashing and whirling of cameras had slowed slightly. Sage stepped to the podium and adjusted the microphone a fraction lower.
"I am excited to be working on this, the last stage of Harbor Bostonian Hotel's restoration project. It is an honor to be permitted to leave a lasting mark on a place which has been more of a home for me…and my family than a business operation." Sage could feel the sweat dripping down her back and wanted nothing more than to wrap her speech up quickly. "Being an artist, I do much better expressing myself with my hands than I do with speeches so I'm going to turn the microphone back to…," she hesitated as she forced the words, "my father, J. Granville Sebastian."
Sage stepped away and immediately felt Simone's arm circle her waist. J. Granville gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. She met his appreciative nod with a small smile. The first one she had graced him with in years. He was reluctant to pull away from the rare pleasant exchange but finally managed to drag himself back to the podium to finish his official duties.
"We have a delightful buffet in the adjoining conference room. So, lets get thru the question and answer segment as quickly as we can, shall we?" He waited for their light laughter to evaporate.
"Mr. Sebastian, Chantal Evans with AP, how much has the project cost in its entirety? Some have speculated the renovation costs ran into the hundreds of millions of dollars."
"Lovely to see you, Chantal. By the way, congratulations on your wedding. Frank is a lucky guy."
J. Granville grinned as the woman blushed. In this heavily orchestrated event, he felt completely in control of the flotsam and jetsam populating the media.
"As to costs, I'm not going to discuss totals. It was, of course, a substantial amount. However, Sebastian/America is a private company so I have only the chairman of the board to answer to." He looked over his shoulder and winked, "Isn't that right, honey?"
"Absolutely," Simone responded on cue and the audience laughed accordingly.
"Mr. Sebastian, Marc Marshall Mass Record, Mr. Sebastian, your daughter has been a hold out of sorts with the business…,"
J. Granville leaned into the microphone and interrupted, "I'm sorry, Marc, could you clarify to which daughter you're referring? I have two."
"Well,…Sage, of course," The reporter was a bit flustered which was what J. Granville intended.
"My six children play active roles on Sebastian/America's board of directors. However, they each have their own interests and career paths. However, we continually look for enterprises which embrace those individual interests and promote the growth of the entire company. While our current venture represents the first public role for Sage, she has long been involved in the company."
Sage ducked her head at the complete fabrication.
"Excuse me, Mr. Sebastian, I'd like a follow up to my esteemed colleague's question, if I might be so bold?"
The vaguely familiar voice drew Sage's focus back to the sea of faces bobbing in the crowd before her.
"When exactly did Sage find the time to participate in the company's operations? What with all her single minded devotion to the pursuit of art," the woman made air quotes high above her head around the word art, "or did she find the time after her juvenile arrest?"
Stunned reporters turned with a collective gasp to the blonde in their midst wearing dark sunglasses. She smirked at the shock written across Sage's face.
"How dare you…" J. Granville's admonishment did little to damn the steady stream of words flowing from the petite woman's mouth; flooding the room.
"Opps, that's supposed to be a secret, wasn't it? Just like the fact you, Mrs. Sebastian bought her entire gallery showing. Opps, again. Another secret gets away from me. My bad. Secrets are dangerous things, don't you think? They have a tendency to slip out at the most inopportune moments. Like now. No secret is really safe from a blabber mouth? That's right, right, isn't it? Tell me I'm right Sage.
"You!" Sage lurched forward with the sudden recognition of her one time jail bench mate, Tristan Ayer.
"Don't," Simone begged as she clutch Sage's arm.
"Young woman, you're going to need to leave. NOW! Security…"
The woman ignored J. Granville's directive and continued her deluge of information. "Especially big secrets like the big secret about the loony bin the first Mrs. J. Granville Sebastian is languishing in. Still. After, what, fifty years? Well decades at least? Tell me, is Endicott in the same place or is he walled up in the attic down in Wellfleet? But, who cares about him anyway, right Simone? Not your kid, not your problem…,"
Tristan continued to rattle the Sebastian family closet skeletons as the media began to churn into the frenzied shiver of sharks Cade predicted. Lights flashed. Cameras whirled. Attention had abruptly shifted to the bubbly blonde in the center seat of the center row.
"Security!" J. Granville, shaking with anger, shouted.
"Anyway J, may I call you J? A point of clarification, you said you have two daughters…,"
Security was futilely trying to pull and push their way to the dead center of the room. It would have been difficult enough if the audience remained seated but they didn't. The press did just that and pressed in around the jabbering woman.
"isn't it a fact…,"
Sage tore her arm free from Simone's hold.
"…you have…"
"SECURITY! SHUT THAT BITCH UP!"
J. Granville's bellow reverberated along Sage's breast bone as she leapt from the stage. She launched herself into the crowd shoving anybody too slow or too stupid move out of her way.
"…you'll forgive me if I wrong, I'm sure…"
Sage was in mid air for the tackle when she heard Tristan finish her sentence.
"…only one daughter, Brookfield Sydney-Sebastian."