This Crazy Rich Boy

Michelle Alcantara obviously loves being the center of attention. It's the currency of her life. And she doesn't even have to work hard for it—probably born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, Michelle was born in luxury and privilege.

That's why as she moves her hɨps to the beats of the DJ at the center of fawning admirers, who ape her every move and sway along with her, Michelle couldn't help but smile at the thought of completely cramping the style of Gabriel Tan's supposed fiancée. She doesn't buy it, that whole fiancée thing. She knows Gabriel. She knows this man wouldn't be able to move on as quickly as that. For ten years Gabriel danced on her palm, at her beck and call, completely smitten. Sure she had been cheating on him countless times, but Michelle could not believe that the one and only time Gabriel found out about her secret trysts two weeks ago would be a total deal breaker: Gabriel is head-over-heels crazy about her. She knows this isn't true. And Gabriel isn't the kind of man who would actually like—more so fall in love with—that stupid fat cow now standing on the sidelines of the pool. Michelle doesn't buy it. There's something about this she couldn't quite put a finger on. But for the meantime, she'll enjoy the world's attention. She'll swim in all the love. As always, she'll take what she can get.

Claire watches Michelle and her entourage in the middle of the meter-deep pool, dancing coquettishly with ċȯċktails in hand, and she knows Gabriel is silently being destroyed right at this very moment. She looks at the man beside her: Gabriel is watching the scene unfold, but surprisingly, there's no emotion on his face. As though he's emotionally detached from this otherwise seductive spectacle. Claire second-guesses what must be going through Gabriel's mind: all those tender moments he once enjoyed with Michelle—can he really turn his back on them all? Can't he really forgive Michelle's cheating? How hard is it to just throw your hands up in surrender, and announce to the world that, alright, Michelle, you win! I still love you. What I had with Claire is fake, it's all an act. Can we get back together?

"Go ahead," Claire mutters after a while.

"Go ahead what?" Gabriel's voice is exceptionally calm, given the situation.

"Go ahead and tell her you want to get back together," Claire says. "There's no point keeping this up. Look at the lengths she'd go to just to get your attention. That's a desperate woman. That's a power move, Gabriel. She's doing this because she's not going to give up, she's not letting what you two had go to waste."

Gabriel smiles wryly. "She let it all go to waste the moment she cheated on me."

"Maybe that's just one moment of weakness. Surely, we all have—"

"That's not only once, Claire. I know she had been cheating on me so many times that I've I lost count. But you know the stupid thing I did? I actually put up with it, pretended that I didn't know, acted like everything's fine in my part of the world."

"What?" Claire couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes," Gabriel mutters. He takes a ċȯċktail from a passing server and downs it in one go. "I was a fool. But there's a point you must say stop to all this foolishness."

Gabriel turns to her and smiles. "Don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm now fine with it. See, I have a new woman who loves me."

Claire has to laugh at that. "Yeah, a woman who loves you because of a year's worth of salary you're paying her."

Gabriel's smile dries up. He appears offended. "Yes, I know. People only love me if I pay them to do so."

"Oh, no," Claire panics. "I didn't mean it that way. I, uhh, I only meant… I…"

"Don't worry, I get it." Gabriel grins, but there's no joy in it. "I understand, Miss Monteverde. This is all an act. Don't worry, I won't forget next time. I'm sorry for being such a sentimental prick."

He takes a bottle of beer from another passing server, and wordlessly downs the entire contents in one go. When he finishes, he's a little red in the face. "In fact," Gabriel says, slurring slightly, "here's Phase 2 of our little act."

"What do you mean?" Claire says, but Gabriel doesn't answer her. He walks over to the DJ's booth and talks to the DJ, who of course knows who he is and who gladly gives the reins to him. The music dies. In a moment, Claire sees Gabriel holding a microphone. He taps at it tentatively, producing static feedback that screeches through the night air.

"May I have your attention, please," Gabriel speaks to the mic. "First of all, thank you for attending this little shindig of mine on short notice. Your presence here is resounding proof that Gabriel Tan—yours truly—has more friends than he can count on his fingers, contrary to what some people say."

Laughter erupts. Claire looks at the crowd. Everyone seems to be hanging upon Gabriel's every word. Michelle at the center of the pool has that bemused look on her face, as though she expects Gabriel to say something in her favor.

Everyone looks at Michelle, who smiles and throws a "you're such a loser" glance in Claire's general direction.

"But I have to say," Gabriel continues, "that despite her beautiful presence, there is absolutely nothing in the world who can compare with the incredibly, absolutely stunning beauty of my current and now-forever love of my life, the one, the only, the smartest, classiest woman I have ever encountered, please, you know her already, but still give a round of applause to Claire Monteverde!"

The spotlight turns to Claire, who appears like a deer in headlights. She almost chokes for this sudden attention. Claire looks around and she could see nothing beyond the glare of the floodlight. People clapped their hands, but she knows only because Gabriel told them to clap. These sheep have no minds of their own.

Claire doesn't know what to do. She just stands there, stunned, frozen like a statue.

"Claire is the beauty and brains behind a lot of major projects of TXCI Industries," Gabriel says, fueled by booze. "She speaks twenty languages, three of them acquired from helping indigenous tribes in the far-flung corners of Asia. She's a dog whisperer, horse whisperer, and all kinds of animals-whisperer. And she has that distinct charm that could only be matched by the world's loveliest women—"

Now, at this point, Claire starts to panic. Really panic. She knew Gabriel is somewhat insane, but she never realized he would be THIS crazy. What twenty languages, what major projects of TXCI Industries? She was just hired yesterday, for pete's sakes! Jesus Henry Christ! At the rate at which Gabriel is mouthing out one incredible bullshit after another, the likelihood that their pretend engagement is going to be unraveled is increasing by the minute.

Stop, you idiot, she wants to scream at him. But all eyes are on her, and everyone's staring at the smallest movement she makes. Claire closes her eyes and wishes she's not here, right now. But when she opens them again, she discovers to her horror that she's still there, Gabriel's still at the DJ booth without any sign of stopping his bullshit, and the crowd's still watching her, waiting for her to make a move.

"Come on, Claire, show them what you've got," Gabriel says.

"What?" she mouths out in return, because honestly, Claire no longer knows what this man is up to.

Everybody gasps, even Claire. She tries to see through the glare of the light and catch a glimpse of Michelle, see how she reacted to Gabriel's words, but she couldn't.

"So please, Claire, I offer you this pool party. I hope you truly enjoy this. I apologize for any unwanted person who may be here, but—"

Claire doesn't wait for Gabriel to finish. In desperation—or for a complete lack of any other option—Claire does what her instinct tells her to do: she lets her fluffy bathrobe drop to the ground.

She stands there, in the glare of the spotlight, wearing the red, skimpy, incredibly sėxy two-piece bikini Miss Cassandra had so carefully chosen for her.

Then she closes her eyes and waits for shit to hit the fan.