This Crazy Rich Boy

"Oh, hey, there you are!"

It's Mary, or Miss Braces for everyone else in the office, greeting her in the only way she knows.

"Oh, hi, Mary," Claire, as Bella, says. She was trying to put on a semblance of work, typing a "memo" on her workstation, when Mary walked by. Gabriel hasn't arrived yet. He's supposed to. He must, because if he doesn't show up, Claire would feel like this is a sorry waste of an entire day. "That floral dress looks great on you."

"Oh, this?" Mary giggles. "Claudia gave it to me last Christmas. She really has great taste in dresses."

"That's so nice of her. What else has she given you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has she given you her long-promised promotion?"

At the mention of "promotion," Mary's face crumbles. She sighs. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I have to go. There's some paperwork I must complete before Claudia arrives."

Claire watches Mary walk away, now the spring in her step gone. Jesus, Claire, you really know how to brighten someone's day. And Mary, of all people.

She'll speak with Mary later. But right now, she wants to settle a few conflicting feelings in her heart. When she woke up early today, Claire was determined to talk to Gabriel about last night's kiss. What was that? Is he really trying to make her crazy? She wasn't able to react when Gabriel kissed her, mainly because she liked it. But when she closed the door last night, the kiss still fresh on her lips, the questions began to ȧssault her: what is really her role in all this drama? How does Gabriel see her? And if she's really someone strictly in his employ, and nothing more than that, was there really need for a goodnight kiss? And one that wasn't a smack at all but a kiss that lingered; a kiss that was unforgettably gentle and needy and hungry and…real. Too real for comfort.

She felt hot last night, despite the air-conditioning turned to the max. She even spent a long time in the Jacuzzi, lately her favorite way to end the night before sleeping (and which would be among the many things she will miss when all this luxury is taken away from her), thinking over. Gabriel had the habit of suddenly popping in at the most unexpected moment, so all the while she was in the jetted tub, she kinda hoped he would re-appear. But he didn't. He didn't even call. But then again, why would he, anyway?

Oh, man. Not even a full week into this "job," and already Claire is finding her own feelings as the biggest stumbling blocks in her dėsɨrė to accomplish this as coldly efficient as possible. She has an eye for the future, and this is her first job, no matter how unusual the circumstances—she wants to put this job in her curriculum vitae later on, and she has to be careful in the job description. Putting "…and fell madly in love with the boss" wouldn't really fly as far as job descriptions go.

But can they blame her? The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes she has always been a passive player in this whole charade—she wasn't the one who initiates things. It has always been Gabriel, him with his antics, his theatrics, his unexpected goddamn kisses.

So is it really her fault if she has started feeling this way?

She stares at the computer screen for a long time, the cursor blinking, as though it's asking, "What now, Claire?"

So early in the morning and already she feels an oncoming headache. Maybe it helps if she would defocus from her own dilemmas and try to help out someone else. Mary, for instance. Fight for Mary's cause. If anything, while she's still here and in a unique position to influence things, she might be able to help her out.

Claire stands up. Mary's not at her desk. At this time, she would be at the copier. People glance at her as she walks by. Who could blame them? It's Miss Casandra's inexplicable decision to make her a bombshell of a blonde, so as far as "going under the radar" is concerned, they've practically bombed it.

The copy room is dimly lit, as though the office administrator wants to forget that it exists. Mary is on the copier, her back to Claire, as she quietly watches paper being spewed out, probably copied pages of some business profile that Claudia had asked Mary to reproduce in triplicate. Claire suddenly feels pity for Mary; the last time she was here, Mary was the cheerful one, always with some happy excuse for her own non-accomplishments. It was Claire who had asked the hard questions—why do you let Claudia step all over you? You're smart, why aren't you a manager yet?—and somehow those questions pierced through the thick layer of Mary's self-denial.

"Hi, Mary," Claire mutters, trying to raise her voice's pitch.

Mary turns to her. "Oh, hi, Bella."

"Lunch date later?"

For a split-second, happiness limns Mary's face, yet it passes like the wind. "I…I'm not sure. I have a mountain-load of paperwork to finish for Claudia."

"Come on, Mary, we've had this conversation before. Claudia cannot make you work through your lunch while she's out there, taking her own sweet time and enjoying two-hour lunches at some swanky place."

"She can do that because she's the boss."

"She's not the boss, Mary. Gabriel is, and I have Gabriel's ear."

"Uhh, I'm not so sure about that, Bella."

"What are you not so sure about?"

"I don't really know Gabriel. He's a demigod who lives in the castle high up in the clouds. What matters to my fate in this office is the approval of my immediate superior, and that's Claudia. And if Claudia doesn't approve, then my life turns into a living hell."

Claire says nothing at first. She also watches paper spewed out by the copy machine. Then a name on the document catches her eye. "Are these documents Jake Magno's business dealings?"

"Yeah," Mary says curtly.

"What's Claudia's business with Jake?"

"Didn't you know?" Mary says. "Jake Magno has been fired."

"What? Isn't he one of the top sales managers here?"

"Yeah, he was. But Gabriel fired him." Mary makes a big shrug and looks at the door to make sure no one's coming. "Jake was fired the day after your dinner date, remember, the other night? And you know what the chatter is?"

Confusion knits Claire's brow. "What?"

"That Jake was fired because he dated you."

Claire is speechless; suddenly, a million questions run through her head. "Wait a minute. I don't remember what happened with that dinner date," she says out loud. And indeed she doesn't. For one thing, why and how does Mary know about that date? It was supposedly a private matter, she didn't tell anyone about it. And another thing, it's only now that she realizes she doesn't remember how that date ended. Did Jake drive her home, back to the Residence? Was it the night before the morning when she woke up smelling of whisky and with Gabriel beside her?

The more she tries to remember, the less it all makes sense. "Did you talk to Jake before he left?"

"Oh, no," Mary says. "He never came back. It was his lawyer who came here and spoke with Claudia. Later I heard Claudia speaking excitedly to Gabriel on the phone. It sounded urgent. Like there's some legal trouble or something."

Claire sighs. There's a big, black, inky darkness in the middle of her brain pertaining to the memory of that night. And she had never thought about it because of Gabriel—he made her so busy in the past couple of days that she never had a chance to reflect on it. And now, it boomerangs to her with a terrible sense of urgency. Jake's termination—did it have anything to do with her?

"Oh, there you are," a voice is heard by the door.

"Oh, Mister Tan!" Mary says. "Good morning, sir!"

"Good morning," Gabriel says nonchalantly. He looks like he just arrived. "I've been looking for you Cla—err, I mean, Bella."

"I've been waiting for you," Claire mutters, her face grim. "We need to talk."