This Crazy Rich Boy

Something big and heavy smashes Claire's table, and it shocks the bejesus out of her. She screams. And to her surprise, Brad "screams" too. He screams for a few moments until he realizes he's still screaming even when Claire is not.

The table and everything on it get upended, and the man who hit it struggles to get up, trying to get off the table cloth that covers him. The man stands up, apologizing.

Brad stares at the man, and his jaw drops. "Mr. Tan? Is that you?"

Gabriel smoothens his suit and tries to regain his bearings.

"Gabriel?" Claire could not believe it. "What are you doing here?"

Gabriel Tan stands there in his usual defiant way, like he'd just came out of a board meeting—except there's coffee all over his suit and there's a dead flower in his hair. "Hello. I'm just here to, uhh, to pick up my coffee."

"Your coffee? Why didn't you tell me?" Claire tries her best not to laugh in his face. She stands up and carefully plucks out the flower in his hair, which had come from the vase that moments ago adorned the table. "I could have fetched it for you."

"Well, I was in the area, anyway," he says, trying to act cool, which would have worked if his suit weren't drenched in coffee. "So I thought I'd hop out and get it myself."

Claire stares at him for a moment—this is the first time she sees him as a "regular" human being, away from the context of his power. She takes a tissue and tries to wipe the coffee off his clothes, to no avail. It doesn't work, yet she perseveres, liking the feeling of "taking care" of him in a most personal way.

Gabriel, on the other hand, allows her. There's not much he could do anyway, except to shut up. How does he explain the clumsiness that just happened? Everyone in the coffee shop is staring at them.

A man approaches them. "Is everything alright here?" He turns to Gabriel. "Are you alright?"

Gabriel looks at his nameplate, which says, "Hi, I'm Mike, Manager." "Everything's fine, uhh, Mike. I'll pay for all the damage."

"Are you sure?" He makes a gesture about the mess around them. The truth is, the table's not really destroyed, and apart from the spilled sugar, cinnamon, and what-have-you, there's no real damage. But Mike the Manager recognizes the opportunity being offered by this public spectacle—this clumsy man in his fancy suit could be humiliated to pay good money, which would all go to his own pocket. "But what about the damage to our property? Who's gonna pay for all this?"

Gabriel looks at the man. His weakness is his inability to judge people when he's in love with them, but truly, Gabriel has been an effective CEO and leader of men because of his singular talent to discern human character. One look at Mike the Manager and Gabriel knows what he's up to. He also owns companies—he knows when something is damaged, for Pete's sakes.

"How much do you think this is going to cost?" Gabriel asks.

Mike the Manager shrugs. "Damage cost might be a bit expensive."

Brad, who actually works for Mike, tries to save the situation. "But, sir, I don't think—"

--"You don't think, Brad," Mike cuts him off, "because you're staying out of this."

"I don't think there's any real damage here," Claire says. "We only have this cleaned and—"

"Don't talk when you're not spoken to, Miss…"

That's it, Gabriel thinks. I've seen enough shit. "Alright Mike the Manager, how much would this cost?"

Mike scratches his non-existent beard and appears to be deep in thought. "Well," he says, "If we have to replace this damaged table, and all the other accessories, maybe…North of nine hundred bucks."

"Nine hundred?" Claire exclaims.

"But sir," Brad says.

"Nine hundred bucks?" Gabriel repeats. He takes out his phone, dials a number. "Leo, Gabriel here," he says. "Don't you own the Starbucks on Lacson and 101st? Yes, that same one. What say you to selling it to me? Yes, the whole thing, at a fifty percent profit. Oh, nothing, just want to make a statement. I'll have Jane call you in a moment to work out the details, okay?"

While this is happening, Mike the Manager sneers at Gabriel. "What bullshit is this," he mutters, not believing a thing about the phone call.

"Yes, thank you, Leo. Appreciate it," Gabriel says. "By the way, can you call your manager and inform him about this sudden transfer of ownership? Okay? Thanks, Leo."

"I don't believe a word of it," Mike says. "You're full of shit, whoever you are."

"But sir, don't you know him?" Brad interjects.

Mike scowls. "Do I know him? Of course, I don't! And I don't care. All I care about is he pays the damage he's wrought on this place."

Gabriel smiles. "Your boss will call you in a few moments."

"That's bull—" Mike almost says, but his pants' pocket rings. His eyes widen, as he curiously takes out his phone. He sees who's calling, and his whole face knits in confusion. "Hello, sir? How do you—oh, sorry sir. Sorry, sir. Yes, understood sir. The very same person standing here? Oh, my god, I didn't know. But, sir… Alright, sir. Absolutely, sir."

Mike the Manager's face is white as sheet as he ends the phone call. "Mr. Gabriel Tan," he mutters. "Why didn't you tell me who you were? I could have given you a complimentary coffee and dry cleaning of your…of your suit. We could have—"

"That's what I was trying to tell you earlier, sir," Brad says.

"You were asking me who this man is, not telling me," Mike fumes, then turns to Gabriel with a wide smile. "I deeply apologize, Mr. Tan. Please don't mind the table. I can—"

"Don't worry, Mike," Gabriel says. "From now on, you're working for me. New rules." Then he announces to everyone in the coffee shop. "But first, give everyone here a Venti glass of their choice of beverage, on the house!"

The crowd cheers.

Mike counts the crowd. "But sir, there's easily around fifty people here. Are you sure we're giving aw—"

"Shut up, Mike, and start cranking out coffee," Gabriel says. "Now!"

"And you," Gabriel says, taking Claire's hand. "You come with me."

They're already gone but Brad is still standing there, scratching an imaginary itch on his head.