39 Charity and the Old Rich
1970 Words
“You didn’t tell me your family’s old rich?” Noah whispered as discretely as possible, seeing as Michael’s Auntie Marjorie’s ears look too keen.
The older woman bid her farewell when she found her husband among a group of elites who enjoyed spending money on sports dubbed only for the rich. Soon, the auction ended, and Noah managed to purchase a small painting he bought for a hundred thousand dollars. He revealed that he didn’t know what to about it. Michael told him if he’d like, he can store back the at the museum together with
“It’s not something I’d proudly say.” Michael rummaged his back pocket.
Noah thought so. Michael seemed the type that wouldn’t easily say things he wanted to be kept in private.
“Want to have a smoke outside?” Michael was already placing a cigarette stick between his lips.
Noah shrugged, “Lead the way, Your Highness,”
“The chills you gave me whenever you add titles to my name—” the disgust on Michael’s face lingered for a while before it transformed into a flat affect.
The two of them headed out toward the balcony.
Noah leaned onto the railing while Michael began to click his lighter. The fire lighted the end of his cigarette, and soon, smoke’s coming out of his nose and mouth. He blew a smoke that faded quickly like the wind around them.
“My family’s old rich, alright,” Michael started, “but that doesn’t mean that they’re good people.”
It’s a common fact that no family is perfect, but Noah knows that you can still be good despite your shortcomings.
The sliding door that led toward the balcony swiftly slid open, and a man with a maroon suit entered quietly.
Michael reached a cigarette stick to Noah.
Noah’s about to ask for his lighter when the woman who just came in beamed at their direction. He ignored him, but when Michael half-turned, his face lit in recognition.
The man in a red suit strode past Noah, enclosing Michael into a warm embrace.
“It’s been ages since I last saw you!” said the man in the red suit.
Michael threw the lighter at Noah, and he swiftly caught it with one hand. Then, he began lighting his stick, the smoke flying into the endless dark sky.
“William?” Michael patted his back with as much force as he can. “Man, it’s really been ages,” he said with a chuckle.
William glanced at Noah and reached his palm, “I’m William, and I am Michael’s friend since college.”
Noah looked between the two of them. It wasn’t odd that Michael had been friends with the same social class.
He gathered a smile that protruded his dimples, “Noah Martin,” he answered shortly.
William gripped his palm, his pupils widening for a split second, “Haven’t I’ve heard that name before?”
Noah scrunched his brows in confusion, “I wonder where?” the hesitation resurfacing in his voice.
“Did I happen to mention him to you?” Michael inquired, thought by the looks of it, he didn’t.
William shook his head several times, “No, no. You didn’t. I’ve seen that name somewhere else. Something that has to do with the supplier of meat in our restaurant in New York.”
As if the three of them came with the same conclusion, Noah’s eyes light up in understanding.
“What do you do for work?” asked William.
Michael blew smoke, “He’s a ranch owner,”
Fingers snapping, William Beamed, “So, you’re the owner of my meat supplier?!”
Noah gave an unsure smile, “I’m not quite sure about that. Though I would appreciate your feedback about my ranch’s livestock and poultry.”
William grinned from ear to ear. “Are you kidding me? They’re the best!” he looked at Michael, “and it can compete with wagyu beef, I tell you.”
William, Noah, and Michael began walking back inside the hall.
People began to swarm the center of the room, and mostly, they’re the elderly who wants to spend the night dancing in jazz music.
Noah didn’t mind their choice of music. To be fair, their theme for tonight’s event matched it, especially the set-up of the place.
Lights danced at the center of the room in hues of blue, violet, red, and yellow. The jazz band were placed at the far left of the stage while bold, designed letter’s Charity Event for Children In Need is glued firmly on the Styrofoam behind it.
William led them toward the bar who had been set-up at the end of the room. Before the auction began, Noah noticed there were no minibars or jazz bands yet placed inside the even room. He wondered if they immediately fixed everything when the auction was still ongoing at the other side of the wide, sliding doors.
“Drinks on me,” said William. He sat on the stool next to Noah, while Michael casually settled on Noah’s left side.
The bartender greeted them with a smile as she shook a mixer and poured the contents slowly on a glass. Of course, for the finishing touch, he placed a cherry at the center of it along with an umbrella to make it fancier. Then, he slid the drink back to another customer at William’s side.
“What shall I get you guys?” he inquired while wiping the droplets of water on the counter.
“Martini for me,” said Michael.
“Sunrise cocktail,” Noah followed suit.
William fixed his eyes at the menu in his hand, “What’s the best drink you can make?”
The bartender grinned and said, “Devil’s pot of gold.”
Noah took the ashtray and began tapping the excess ash on the glass container. Based on the cocktail’s name, it must have caused a thousand dollars or so.
“I’ll have that,” said William, his expression with apparent curiosity that Noah couldn’t decipher whether it was a mix of interest and regret for buying such an expensive drink.
“I bet that caused more than what I brought in my wallet right now…” Noah sipped from his glass. He gave a sigh—the drink was citrus in taste, and at the same time, it has the right amount of bitterness at the end.
“How’s your life in America?” William asked. Michael mentioned earlier that Noah been new to the industry and that he hadn’t been that much accustomed to America’s politics, way of living, and the likes.
Noah agreed he’d prefer to live in Italy if he’d get the chance to do so. It was his dream—a state of his that he can’t share yet to everyone, especially when it involved risking the existence of the Magic Ball he currently has inside his car.
“William!” a blond man that looked to be someone from a well-known family greeted a beaming William as the three of them marched toward a group of men Noah had no idea who they were.
Michael had been kind enough to point out that some of them are business tycoon heirs, and most are either building their empires or are being inherited with one. Either way, every man that surrounded the table they were at were eligible men that would surely see each other in the world of business. After all, Noah knew they were all born with a silver spoon—perhaps more than that—with a golden spoon that is fed to them by their maids.
“May I introduce to you my friends,” said William as he gestured his hands to where Noah and Martin are standing.
Noah didn’t mind being introduced, though what made him feel uncomfortable was the fact that he couldn’t, in some way, adapt well to their inner circle, especially if they are that high in terms of social ranking.
Everyone who had met Noah knows that he came from a humble family. And if it weren’t for the Magic Ball he found in the middle of a stream, he wouldn’t have achieved everything he owned right now. He wouldn’t be in America, wouldn’t have met Thomas, Wynn, and Nancy—he wouldn’t have raised three, intelligent dogs named Mik, Ginger, and Cole. On top of that, his fascination with horses wouldn’t have been satisfied if not for him buying several ponies and raising them personally inside the Magic Ball. He probably wouldn’t have met the insufferable, strong Bean, and the level-headed Snowflake who always had his brother’s back.
“This is Noah Martin,” William closed the distance between them as he wrapped his arm over his shoulder.
Noah wouldn’t say he felt awkward about such an action from a person he just met earlier. He felt utterly uncomfortable about it.
Instead of plastering a blank face, Noah reached his hand toward the blond man and said the temple he’d said for the tenth time today, “Noah Martin. Pleased to meet you.” The smile he gave was one he’d always used to people at school and work he didn’t get along well, especially those jocks that though they’re better than everyone else just because they’re playing a sport that they feel makes them look good and admired by the people who cheer and watch them.
And once college ends? The majority of them end up being white-collared workers that bore themselves to death repeating the same old routine over and over again. Meanwhile, the nerds that they bullied are now those who became their managers, or sometimes, if we’d not put it into exaggeration, the people who help rule the world.
In Noah’s case, he was always between nerds and jocks; he was a complete mixture—a middle man, a middle class, an average adult that suddenly excelled at something. And of course, that’s with the help of the Magic Ball.
“How have you been taking things here?” asked the blond man as he sipped from his glass.
Noah fixed him a gaze, his eyes intense, “I’m coping well. That I can say the least.”
The blond nodded. “Americans are much liberated than you think they are.”
“Don’t get me started on that,” William said. The brunette on his left side nodded.
“Truth be told, this country had always been keen with the word freedom and democracy.”
Noah took a swig from his beer, “Is that a bad thing?”
“I think not. People should have the freedom to choose.”
Silently, Noah agreed. He faintly nodded his head. “I’m not familiar with how Americans do politics in here. But I do agree that every life matters, especially to those who have been abused through slavery.”
“Inhumane acts,” said Michael. “In today’s modern world, no matter what skin color we are in, we’re all humans, to begin with.”
“The first Republicans are anti-slavery activists. And they’re relatively younger people than the Democrats.”
Noah edged his head closer, “So you meant to say that America has two political parties?”
Michael nodded. “You got that one right. But actually, there are three small parties that aren’t that well known.”
William’s face lit up, “One’s something that has to do with the color—”
The blond laughed, “You meant the Green Party?”
“Exactly!” said William, a smile spreading all over his face. “Then, there are Progressive and Libertarian Parties.”
“They’re not as famous as the first two we’ve mentioned,” Michael added.
“And if you’re given the choice to choose, which party would it be?” asked Noah.
The three Americans in front of him fell silent for a while. They must’ve thought deeply about his question.
Michael had circled his seat. On the other hand, William had his hand underneath his chin. The blond man scrunched the space between his eyebrows.
“I’d rather go with the Republicans, to be honest. It’s because they bought American Conservatism, and it’s the latest ideology made as of the moment,” William answered with a straight face.
The blond said, “Yeah, and the fact that Abraham Lincoln was the first Republican who had been elected as president.”
“To be honest, I’m kind of leaning on the Democratic Party now. They tend to concern themselves with equality, and I’m more of those topics,” Michael said as Noah lighted a new cigarette stick.
“Equal rights, huh?” Noah echoed. “If they’re for that, then I’m all for them.”
He dipped the tip of his cigarette on the ashtray, the fire sizzling for a bit.
Michael ordered another drink, while William and the blond guy began conversing about the nearing elections.
Noah puffed out a cloud of smoke, “If they’re on the people’s side, then I’m all for them,” he mumbled in Italian.
- Writer
