Chapter 16

THE FINE TUX hugging Albert felt so uncomfortable and unfamiliar with his skin that he’s sweating buckets in his mind even when the AC’s turned up they’re no less than a fridge filled with phonies.

Ana noticed the discomfort of her date. “It’ll just be an hour or so. You have to look your best during your great white buffalo’s engagement party.” Now that she knew that Albert was hers to keep, she was so supportive of him throughout the week that’s passed. She even picked his clothes to match hers to make them all cutesy and stuff. But most of all, she just wanted impress him with a reference.

“Hot Tub Time Machine? That’s kind of a deep cut. I’m impressed.” Albert was impressed. 

“Thank you. I try my best.” She swung her skirt and bowed like a princess.

Their trifling was interrupted when Charles tapped the stage mic to address the masses and thank them for taking the effort to come. Margaret stood beside him.

“Real effort. This one here’s impossible to convince,” Ana talked about the person attached to the arm she got herself wrapped around.

And she was right, he was 99% sure she was not going to attend this bummer of an event, but his 1% persuaded him into thinking it was a great idea to flaunt their newfound relationship to these toothless, toothless throng. But as Albert emphasized, no one would be looking at them no matter how hot of a couple they may be because they’ll be celebrating the more important duo. 

Which was the case for the eyes around centupled ogled at the most charming prince of one of the biggest empires at their side of the coast. Margaret though, as usual, got sidelined by the dissonance of the NetWorth-concerned people. Some “marrying a pauper” here and “only a trophy wife” there; none new empty words by the even more empty people.

“It’s the usual,” Ana remarked as she felt uncomfortable with the criticism. She addressed Albert, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He got so intrigued by Margaret’s restless expression that he didn’t have time to squabble with the mindless judgements of the ne'er do wells. She’s not one to openly face a multitude in her life, much more a type like these high ballers, so she’s understandably a piece of bread in a furnace. He’s so keen in experiencing the secondhand tension with her that he twitched in agitation.

It all ended when everyone applauded Charles finishing his speech and raising the glass to the ceiling. All and sundry went back to their loitering as the live jazz band played its polyrhythms, improvisations and tritones from the devil.

“Do you want to dance?” Ana interrupted his train of thought.

“Sure,” Albert extended his arm to cup into Ana’s as they glide to the center of the dance floor. The two of them positions the closest outside left there is so that the Jack in his package can challenge his Jill “Hope you can keep up.”

The two attempted to bring their Donnie Burns A-game at dancing as they gracelessly clunk and klutz each other’s foot. They bebopped and chassed at the andante beat, trying their best not to standout; but it was impossible. For even with the willpower and partnerly one-upmanship, both of these two does not know how to dance—like at all.

They just laughed at their failures whilst trying to stay on-beat as the rhythm drifted past them making them eat their own dust as it sped off 50 knots away from the couple with four left feet. And just when Albert and Ana were about to beat deaf their own beat-deaf pardner to smithereens, the tempo adagioed on them.

Ana wrapped her arms around Albert’s neck still giggling out of her mind because of the gauche tango. Albert, trying his best not to burst out laughing, reciprocated by hugging her close to him. She looked up to his eyes and saw that he was having fun; he didn’t care that people saw him mess up, or that the people saw him snicker; and that’s a huge win for Ana. Because as much as she wants to be happy as her self-actualization, she’d want Albert to experience it more than anyone.

And for the entirety of the powwow, that’s what she strived to keep. For two entire hours, they hopped, skipped and jumped from one place to the other as they tried to keep a middle-ground profile. They were together the whole night until the after party when Ana excused herself as she wanted to have a meeting with the Baron. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Albert expressed his concern

“Of course, it’ll be just a chat so you don’t have to wait for me.”

“Alright. Be careful.” Albert was hesitant at first, but he believed that Pierre wouldn’t interfere. He never did, so it’s imbued in him that he won’t now; so, he let Ana go for now. “I’ll see you at my place.” 

He stayed inside a bit for a quick chat with GD as the butler tried to order a late-to-the-party liquor. They chatted for no longer than 10 minutes when GD said he had to go back to the tech room. Albert went for the corridor towards the door. He was about to leave when he got stopped by a crowd near the door. Charles, Margaret, Roosevelt and Gilliam were having a casual talk about the party while he passed the blind hallway that led to them seeing him. 

The first thing he noticed was everyone, except Margaret, looked pretty normal.

Why does she look so weird?

He thought that maybe it’s her cold feet reaching helium-levels of freezing; or the fact that she’s not used to this kind attention; or maybe it’s her nerves finally taking over her. She was so focused stiff that you could replace her with a marionette beside Charles and not one would bat an eye.

“Mr. Meyer, come join us!” Gilliam was the first who saw him.

Out of exhaustion, he wanted to just jump out the dry wall but Roosevelt was veering dangerously closer and closer to Margaret. Charles, also looking towards Albert’s direction, was blind-spotted to notice the creep; the weirdo.

When Albert got closer, it got more obvious that Roosevelt was trying to smell Margaret from behind her, taking advantage of her vegetative state. Albert rushed immediately to sock the sleazebag right in the eye.

“You fucking pig!” He was about to go further into beating when Charles and Gilliam pulled him away.

“Nice hit,” Gilliam commented.

“Meyer! What the hell?” Charles cried as he hugged Margaret away from the mess.

“Why are you not paying attention to Margaret?” 

Gilliam went to pick up the man flat in the concrete while Charles scuffled with Albert. Margaret, even being the center of all these, didn’t even react to anything. 

“You asshole!” Roosevelt tried to slap Albert but Charles stopped his hand, then punched his other eye to once more return him to the ground. Charles looked at him with a look that can kill.

“Gilliam, take him away from here.” The near-knocked out CEO of sleaze got escorted out while throwing a tantrum. Gilliam, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the drama. VV subsequently arrived in Charles’ car to take Margaret home, as per request by Charles. 

Albert did nothing to stop that for that might’ve been one of the best outcomes for the worn-out Margaret and this bloodcurdling mad eye he had.

Charles turned to him. “Meyer, I know you think you still have your duties to Margaret; but as of now, you’re not his protector and she’s not your responsibility anymore. Do you get that?”

Albert, once again overcame by his emotions, nodded. He knows when he’s in the wrong but that time was not it. Yet, he preserved his mending relationship with Charles. To avoid further conflict, he just turned around to look at a message he received. It was from Ana.

I’m on my way out.

“Speaking of responsibilities, where’s Ana?” Charles.

“She just texted me. Said she’s on the way towards here.”

With that, they looked at the footsteps they heard—and it wasn’t Ana. But it was the footsteps of some butler who pushed the person she was supposedly meeting with.

Albert, having a bad feeling about this, asked the Baron with an accusatory tone, “Pierre, where's Ana?”