Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

38 Michael’s Invitation

The waiter passed by in a whim as he balanced the food he’s about to serve. Another waiter came by, and this time, he was already rolling the food cart beside Michael. After pulling his sleeves up on his elbows, one by one, the waiter gently placed the meals before them. Noah tucked the napkin on his shirt, getting ready to devour the delicacies. He inhaled the scent of the freshly sautéed lobster Michael recommended they eat at a famous restaurant that mainly seafood cuisines.

“Why are you placing the napkin like it’s a baby’s bib?” Michael’s brow creased in confusion, his other eyebrow-raising a bit.

Noah shrugged as he picked up the fork. “I don’t want to get my shirt stained,” he pointed his index finger at on the white shirt beneath the napkin. “See? This is white, and that juicy sauce is almost brown and yellow. I don’t want to risk having permanent stains on my clothes.”

Michael slurped the entire contents of the clamp, “I see your point and I won’t argue about it.”

Noah hummed before nodding.

He proceeded to take the scissors meant for cutting the lobster’s arms. The juice oozed out of the shell, the steam flying overhead. The mouth-watering meat of the lobster greeted him, tempting him all ready to take a bite out of it.

“Here,” Michael passed the sauce to his side. “It’s better when you dip it with that.”

Noah heeded his advice. He dipped the lobster gobbled it like a hungry animal. He moaned from all the flavors mixing in his tongue. The meat was soft and slimy, yet when eaten with the saucy, a tint of spice and sweetness made it all the better.

“Very good…” Noah wiped the sauce on the side of his mouth.

“I’m glad you liked it,” said Michael. Then, he proceeded to take a bit out of his plate. “It’s the best around here.”

Noah agreed. “Indeed.”

“By the way,” said Michael as he took a swig on his beer, “I almost forgot, but I’d like to invite you to an auction happening this week.”

Noah furrowed his brows, “Me?” he said, a piece of lobster hanging on his lips. “What am I going to do there?”

Michael smiled at him, “Aren’t you interested in knowing what happens inside an auction?”

Noah thought about it, “Probably?”

“You sound like you aren’t,” Michael commented based on the expression Noah had on his face.

To say he isn’t curious would be a lie. Maybe he is uninterested as of the moment, so he couldn’t find the eagerness in him to say that he is wholeheartedly accepting the idea of him going into an auction. On top of that, the people during the auction might be those that are different from the social class that he’s used to mingling with.

“Does that mean I get to wear an expensive suit?” Noah hadn’t thought about buying one in a long time. He didn’t have a use for it—not until Michael mentioned about the said auction he’s inviting him into.

Michael drank from his wine glass, “Of course. There are dress codes I’m not in control of.”

Noah laughed a bit, “Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Why not?” Probed Michael.

“Because that meant I will mingle with a social class I’m not used to be with.” Noah poured himself a glass of wine. 

“Oh, you’ll be fine. Besides, it’s an opportunity to meet probable clients,” said Michael as the sun hit them with its colorful hues.

Now that had piqued Noah’s interest. “Sounds good,” he said while placing his lips on the wine glasses’ rim. 

Michael called the next day. He reiterated the details of the event, and he’d specifically wanted Noah to come and be with him for the entire night. According to Michael, the auction is organized as a charity event for poor children in the said local villagers next to the town the auction would take place in.

Noah liked giving what the less fortunate can’t have, especially when it involves children. After all, he’s a firm believer that they’re the hope of the future. So when Michael called that day, he decided he’d participate in the local charity auction, and buy a thing or two to aid the institutions in helping the children of the local villagers.

“It’s in Waston,” Michael reminded him. “Are you familiar with that place?”

Noah didn’t know much about the rural parts of America. He hadn’t been to one yet. For the past two years he had stayed in the said country, he rarely ever goes on vacations—except when he visits his parents back in Italy. It’s like staying in America and going back to Italy for a vacation. The cycle repeats.

“No,” he said shortly.

Michael made a sound of agreement, “I figured. How about I drop by and pick you up the next day?”

“That would be fine,” said Noah.

He clutched at his closet’s handle, its door creaking as he pulled it open. Noah scanned the three formal clothing he hanged and mostly kept for rare occasions such as the weddings he attended last year.

Reaching his hand, he touched the material of the blue coat he wore on his brother’s wedding. It didn’t feel right for the auction. It seemed to flashy for a charity event. Or maybe it would fit the theme after all? He’s not quite sure.

For the past year, Noah had only worn suspenders, a shirt, and some mud-stained boots he bought at a local market downtown. He wasn’t a fan of one, but maybe, it wouldn’t hurt if he wore one for such a charitable event that would benefit the future of the villager’s children.

Thus, he began scrolling through his phone. He stumbled upon a classy-looking, online shop that features formal wear for men. As he scrolled through each page, his eye caught a simple cream shirt that looked too soft for his liking, but elegant enough to blend with the people above his social class.

With that, Noah settled with the pants he wore on Elijah’s birthday—a timeless blue, the cream-egg colored shirt he bought online, and a pair of Boulvaint black loafers he impulsively bought in case some of his friends got married again.

Noah thinks he’s ready to attend the attend without an ounce of doubt in his mind.

Michael shook every hand that would reach out to him, a smile plastered on his face. Noah was a bit awkward standing behind him the whole time. And when Michael’s done with his small talk, he’d quickly gesture his hand toward Noah, introducing him as the youngest owner of one a rising ranch in West of America.

“Pleased to meet you,” was his template. Noah was getting used to all of the attention thrown at him. He was starting to master the art of conversing in a manner that would make him seem rude.

The bald man gripped his palm as it flashed him his crooked teeth, “You’re talent is impalpable. Perhaps if I know someone who is interested in poultry and livestock, I’d immediately recommend your business.”

“That would be a great achievement—being recommended, that is,” Noah let go of the older man’s hand.

“We shall proceed now,” Michael chirped his tone jolly and making Noah cringe.

When he finally caught up with Michael, Noah turned to have a good look at him, “How can you keep that energy?” he was dying on the inside because no one would let him roam the place in peace. 

“I heard you have intelligent horses,” an older woman, who’s probably in her fifties, appeared beside them. Her heavily false eyelashed eyes fixated on Noah’s light brown irises.

Noah nodded, “Pleased to meet you, madam. I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Aunt Marjorie?” Michael said to the older woman who wore a sunshine yellow skirt that matched her coat. She was fairly tall, her hair tied in a low bun as her face got hidden by the hat that also looked to be an ornament of some sort.

Aunt Marjorie dabbed her cheeks on Noah’s friend.

“Quite fine young men you are,” the woman said in her thick, British accent.

Noah never knew that Michael had relatives in Great Britain, and he never heard such an accent from him, even when they first met each other at the auction house. 

“Come now,” said Aunt Marjorie as she scooped both Noah and Michael’s arms. “We must get a good place in front,”

Noah saw Michael raising a suspicious look over her shoulders. He mouthed something that meant sorry and go along with her—for now before they entered the double doors connected to the other side of the room.

“It’s meant for those who made sure they’d buy an item or two,” explained Michael as he led the way to the front round table at the farthest end. The stage was a few feet away from them, the huge speaker and dais near in view.

Aunt Marjorie swiped a champaign from a walking waiter. She wiggled her eyebrows at the young lad before laughing at Michael’s stoic expression.

“Oh, dear. The face you make are sometimes amusing that it gets to me.” She raised the rim on her bright, red lips, a mark left on the translucent layer.

Michael sighed. “Allow me to introduce to you my aunt properly.”

Aunt Marjorie raised her glass toward Noah, “Do tell who this young man is.”

“This is Noah Martin, a friend I’ve once helped with auctioning two Renaissance paintings.” He directed his hands at an observing Noah, and his brown eyes fixed on the table’s cream clothing.

Then, carefully, he reached his hand toward Aunt Marjorie. “I am delighted to have finally met a family member of a good friend.”

“Likewise,” said Aunt Marjorie as she flashed him a smile.

The people gathered around them, and Noah knew they are all a mix of CEOs and heiresses ready to conquer the world using their money. The reason he didn’t feel up to this is that he couldn’t sit well with the fact that he, who had gravel from the bottom, is now standing face to face with people who didn’t even experience an ounce of hardship in their lives. To make it simple, Noah knew they were fed with a silver spoon. And sometimes, he wished it also happened to him.

“I never knew Michael had such close friends,” the aunt said as she angled her body on the table, leaning on it, “he was a quiet boy before, but now, it seemed to prove that silence is an indication of intelligence.”

“Oh, don’t flatter me,” Michael waved his hands dismissively. “She happens to do that a lot, especially when she’s sober.”

Aunt Marjorie gave a gentle chuckle, “What do you actually do, Noah?”

Noah jerked his head and leveled a stare at the older woman, her yellow glow making his eyes pulse for a second, “I am a rancher…”

“Unique!” said the older woman, her voice in a high pitch.

The host for tonight’s auction began his speech, and soon, items readied were presented in front of them. The biddings began, but Aunt Marjorie continued her questions.

“You could team up with Michael here,” she said casually. “He could plant some of our grapevines in your yard. You’d have portions of the sale, he’d have his. Something like that.”

Noah’s eyebrows creased in confusion. He didn’t have a clue as to what the older woman was saying.

“Grapevine?” he said, looking between Michael and his jolly aunt.

Aunt Marjorie swigged at her wine and placed it near Noah’s face, “The family business had wines in it—”

“Does that mean…?” Noah glanced at Michael’s tired face. His friend looked embarrassed.

“Well…” he began, “We do wine production.”

Noah confirmed he was feeling embarrassed by the way his neck tinted in pink and red. “I see,” the amazement showed through his eyes. “Sounds like a promising collaboration.”

He grinned at Michael and elbowed him lightly.

Michael forced a smile, “Perhaps it is,” he said.

“Oh, you can do it. You already have established a bank in Central America!”

Noah didn’t want to believe the revelation himself, but Michael proved Aunt Marjorie’s words with a sigh.

“That and wine,” he drank from his glass.

“What’s the bank’s name, if you don’t mind?” The grin on Noah’s face almost reached his ears. To say he was not shocked by Michael’s truth—he’d have to lie—a lot.

Michael’s lips were in a thin line. “Toxy Bank,” he said in a solemn voice.

Noah’s smile dropped.

Aunt Marjorie gave a cheeky grin, “They’re the largest bank in America.”