This Crazy Rich Boy

"Why are my days so very busy?" Claire speaks to her reflection in the mirror, as Miss Cassandra fixes her hair.

"Aren't we all?" Miss Cassandra says, smiling. "I'd rather have your kind of busy than my kind of busy."

"Well, what's your kind of busy?"

Miss Cassandra sighs. "Working with the world's top fashion houses isn't exactly a walk in the park, Miss Claire. You have to deal with either idiots or ȧssholes on a daily basis."

And here I thought life amid haute couture is just like that—something to die for, Claire thinks.

"But these moments when I have to come down just to gives you your OOTD—"

"What's OOTD?"

"Oh," Miss Cassandra laughs. "It's 'outfit of the day' for social media folks."

"Oh, I see."

"As I was saying, doing your outfit of the day is the high point of my work. I actually enjoy it. Honestly."

"Thank you," is all Claire manages to say, for lack of anything else. Miss Cassandra has been nothing but kind to her, even right at the start. Even when she doesn't have to—she's one of the few people who know about her deal with Gabriel Tan. She's technically an employee, just like her, but Miss Cassandra treats her like some princess.

"Now for tonight's dinner with the brothers, I think we should play it daring, maybe a bit glamorous," Miss Cassandra says. "Remember, you're Claire Monteverde, that rarest of gems that someone like Gabriel Tan had the good fortune to pluck out of the heavens. We should always dress to serve as an aspiration for ordinary folks. Especially in public."

"You've lost me at 'rarest of gems', but I think I get what you're saying," Claire laughs.

Miss Cassandra rifles through her wardrobe, and picks out one. "This! This is perfect for tonight," she says, showing a purple body-hugging lacy dress that will not only show off Claire's killer figure, but will also strategically show skin without being sŀutty. "Then let's pull your hair in a messy bun, pair the whole thing with some lightly shaded stilettos, then I think we have the star of the night."

"I completely trust your fashion sense, Miss Cassandra. Thy will be done."

Miss Cassandra laughs. She slips into the walk-in wardrobe for a second, and comes out with a classy clutch bag. "This should complete your look, Miss Claire."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then say no more!" Miss Cassandra laughs. "This dinner, what is it for?"

Claire shrugs. "I'm not sure, but perhaps it's mainly a social thing. The Tan brothers don't just visit each other and chat about life in general, like normal people do. Apparently, they can only do that in a social setting, like this dinner. So I presume they'd talk about their mother, my engagement with Gabriel, plans for the future, things like that."

"I wonder how Gabriel would navigate the conversation when you come to the topic of your 'engagement'. It must be like walking on a field strewn with landmines."

"Yeah, it's tricky," Claire agrees. "I don't really know what the big plan is, or until when this would all last. Sometimes I wonder about the point of this all."

Miss Cassandra says nothing.

"Do you know Miguel's bringing my former flatmate, Karen?" Claire says.

"Really? Was that the one you told me about? With the rapist boyfriend?"

"Technically it was attempted ****, but yes, that's the one."

"Has Miguel run out of classy girls that he's consorting with whores now?" says Miss Cassandra so passionately that Claire couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, too. He's like instantly smitten. Too bad because he looks kind of cuter than Gabriel."

"Yeah, you know that, girl," Miss Cassandra giggles. "It's like as if God were not totally satisfied with how Gabriel turned out, so he corrected all the little mistakes and came up with Miguel."

"That's funny," Claire says. Honestly, though, although Miss Cassandra is right as far as physical beauty is concerned, there's still something about Gabriel that makes Claire's heart choose him. Some sense of inner gravity. Or charisma. Or maybe she's just drawn more to the type of man who doesn't suffer bullshit. Unlike Miguel, who's probably the least discerning person he has ever met.

"By the way, where is the dinner happening?"

Claire shrugs. "Gabriel said he'd surprise me."

After finishing Claire's hair and putting on her the lacy dress, Miss Cassandra asks her to stand and turn before the life-sized mirror. The sight of her own reflection is breathtaking, even for Claire, and she's not normally the narcissistic type.

"I look stunning," Claire says.

"Yeah, safely stunning," Miss Cassandra says. "Classy, but with a little edge. It's like you're saying, you're a classy lady who knows how to have some fun, if you know which buŧŧons to push, but that you only let the right one in, and not everyone's welcome."

Claire turns to look at her. "That was good, Miss Cassandra. It's like you're a poet, but with dresses."

Miss Cassandra grins. "I guess you can say I'm an OOTD poet."

Both of them laugh.

There's a knock on the door. Miss Cassandra opens it, while glancing at her watch. It's Dale.

"You're right on time," Miss Cassandra says.

"Snappy is the new sėxy," Dale says snappily. "Mister Tan is already at the Residence's threshold, madam, waiting for her princess."

"That's not only corny, Dale," Claire says, trying to stop herself from laughing. "It's cornichon. Who says 'threshold' these days, and I'm no princess."

"A tigress, more like," Miss Cassandra adds. "But let us not keep the prince waiting at the 'threshold', shall we? We don't want to spoil the night."

Claire stands, takes one last look at herself in the mirror. When she holds her gold-accented clutch bag like so, she really looks so far from the old Claire from the block. She's like a different person. Like a real princess. "The vɨrġɨn princess," Gabriel would have said.

"Thank you, Miss Cassandra," Claire says, throwing her arms around the fashion stylist. "You're like my fairy godmother each and every time. I owe you so much for this success."

"We're all in this together," Miss Cassandra says, and winks at her. "Until the end. Until the fulfillment of the Red Contract. And more importantly, beyond it."

Claire gazes at her friend, her heart full of gratitude. Without Miss Cassandra's impeccable sense of style, her talent, Claire would be committing one fashion atrocity after another, and there's no chance she could have pulled it off. People would easily through her as some ordinary girl who couldn't tell one fashion brand from another. "Thank you so much," she mutters. "For always making me look stunning."

When Claire steps out into the early evening air, Gabriel is already waiting there, standing by the car. And she's actually right: she really looks stunning, as Gabriel does indeed look stunned.