This Crazy Rich Boy

On the way to the office the following morning, Claire's chauffeur, some old guy named "Dean," is extra cheerful, for some reason. "You look especially lovely today, Miss Claire," he greets her. Even tips his hat.

That puts a smile on her face. "Thank you, Dean." She thinks: in less than a month, I would be losing all these privileges. She couldn't help but sigh, despite Dean's cheerfulness.

Dean had always been quiet whenever he services her. He's always professional, almost to a fault. He's probably one of those old school employees of Gabriel Tan, who belong to a world that no longer exists. He even hums a song as he drives, which eventually intrigues Claire.

"What song is that?" she asks.

"Oh," Dean laughs and looks at her on the rear-view mirror. "It's an old song, Miss Claire. A hit on the airwaves long before you were born. I'm sure you haven't heard of it."

"Try me," she says, smiling.

"It's called 'Venus,'" Dean says. "A song sung by a boy named Frankie Avalon a long time ago. I just thought of it the moment you stepped out into the street. I remembered the lyrics, 'Venus make her fair, a lovely girl with sunlight in her hair'. Because that's how you looked. I swear!"

"I didn't realize you're quite a poet, Dean," Claire says. She giggles.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Forgive me for saying this, but you're quite lovely, Miss Claire. Mister Gabriel is such a lucky guy."

Claire says nothing; the mention of Gabriel's name pinches her heart with a little sadness. Dean, and most of the rest of the world, think the engagement is real. Only a handful of souls know the real score. "Thank you, Dean," she says after a while. "I'm sure your wife is even lovelier than me."

"Oh, she truly was," Dean says, his eyes, set deep within wrinkled skin, light up despite everything else. "God bless her soul. She left the world ten years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine, Miss Claire. I've learned to move on. I take comfort in the notion that perhaps we'll meet again."

Claire decides to speak no more. And somehow, the mere mention of his long-dead wife took away a bit of Dean's previous cheerfulness.

Claire still thinks of her chauffeur as she arrives at the office and takes her usual place. She surveys her desk: she has complete equipment. From the looks of everything, she has an actual job. So why doesn't she actually work? What's stopping her? Maybe she can learn about the business. After a few days of pretending and getting vague instructions from Gabriel, she might as well try to learn the rigors of TXCI's business. What's the whole point of dressing up as beautiful as this, with all the effort of Gabriel's personal stylist, Miss Cassandra, if she only had to sit around doing nothing?

She wasn't really doing nothing, though. She had tried to champion Mary's cause, and she has just started. She wants a better life for Mary, or at the very least, a well-deserved promotion. But there's more: if Michelle's really returning here and setting up office, Claire would have a few weeks to do what she can to help Gabriel, whatever he needs.

Suddenly, she hears a voice from inside Gabriel's office. Is he already here, so early in the morning? She cautiously peeps into the door and finds Gabriel in his big boss chair, his face deep into his newspaper, as though he couldn't be bother. Claire thinks she must have misheard him, so she quietly closes the door again. But suddenly, Gabriel looks up from his paper and sees her.

"Oh, Claire, here you are," he says, trying so hard to sound normal. Like last night never happened. Like Claire never slapped him in front of his own brother, who looked up to him and respected him and perhaps even idolized him—slapped him like a fool. But Gabriel doesn't care about that; he takes one look at Claire, and in the morning light, there seems sunlight in her hair, like the heavens has "chosen" her to be the one, or some silly shit like that, silly shit Gabriel is inclined to believe from here on. "I've been waiting for you."

Claire stands before him, trying to act as though everything's normal. Like last night never happened. Like last night this man didn't kiss her, and she didn't kiss him in return. Like last night she never slapped this man so hard it must have stung. "Yes, good morning to you, too, Gabriel." She tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. As though someone has shoved a needle up her bum and she's trying to endure the pain. "Would you like me to get your coffee?"

Gabriel gazes at her. Really, what's the point? Just the other day, when Michelle visited, he had been ready to let Claire go. But how do you let go a girl like this? He gazes at her, and secretly he tries to kill the surge of emotion. Why does she look so lovely today? "No, thanks, no coffee for me today," he says. Then he points to a stack of boxes on his desk. "These are your company phone and tablet. You have to use these for efficiency."

Only then does Claire notice the latest Apple iPhone and an iPad Pro, still in their sealed boxes. Her brow knits. "Do I really need these, Gabriel? You know I won't even last here long enough to require the use of these gadgets."

"I know. But even so, there may be times I may need to call you up. It is getting pretty intense here, you see."

Claire says nothing. She stares at the sealed boxes. She has never used such pricey things before, not only because of the cost, but also because her lifestyle has no need for it. She's not on Facebook, for instance. Twitter for her is still the actual bird variety. And wasn't it just last night when she had been wondering how grateful she had been that she could still have some buffer, some space or distance whenever she needs? She was not at his beck and call; not she would be. "Can I refuse?"

He shrugs. "Why refuse? You don't have to pay for it. Just, you know, explore how they're used, and you might find yourself needing it one of these days."

"Maybe I can use the phone, but I'm not so sure about the iPad tablet, though. Really."

"You can read books on it."

"But can't I do that on the phone?"

"Bigger screen," Gabriel says, as though he's an Apple salesman. "So it would feel like a bigger book."

"It's still text on a screen," she says, "regardless of size."

"Magazines, the colorful ones. They're better enjoyed on the bigger screen."

"I'm not fond of celebrity magazines."

Gabriel pauses, then an idea hits him. "Not celebrity magazines. Science. Scientific American. New Scientist. Discover. These devices all have built-in unlimited subscription to these things."

That does it. Claire's eyes go wide. She loves science magazines. The National Geographic. She won't have to pay for actual copies, anymore. Can you believe that? "Really?"

Gabriel nods. He knows he has made a home-run. He should have known at the get-go the types of things a "beauty and brains" combo like Claire would love. "So go ahead. You can spend the day fixing up these gadgets to your personal preferences."

"Okay," Claire says, then scoops up the sealed boxes with her arms. "I'll see what I can do with these things."

Claire is opening the box of the Apple iPhone when Mary somehow passes by her. Mary's eyes squint upon seeing the devices on her desk. "Have you just bought yourself the latest iPhone?"

"Oh, no," Claire says. "Gabriel issued these to me for corporate use. I guess it's standard company device for employees, no?"

"What? Hell, no," Mary says. "All we get is the average Android phone. Nobody gets these except maybe the vice presidents, who are on a level that don't get excited anymore by these things."

"Oh," is the only thing Claire says. Would this become an object of contention? "Maybe there has been a mistake. I'll check with Gabriel later," she just says, if only to dismiss Mary.

Once Mary's gone, Claire knocks on Gabriel's office. She hears his voice. She thinks he's singing. But when she opens it, Gabriel's standing, his back to her. He's facing the glass wall overlooking the city, and he's speaking on his phone and cursing. "I'll kill that bitch," Gabriel says to the phone. "I'll drag her by the hair and throw her into the goddamn stairwell."

Jesus, Claire thinks, and quickly closes the door.

It seems Michelle Alcantara's at it again. What should she do? And more importantly, what can she do to help Gabriel? Can she talk to him through his temper, or would he again treat her like garbage?