Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

32 Stop With the Helicopter

A month went by ever since Brice tried convincing Noah to turn his ranch into the tourism industry.

Although the idea sounds enticing, Noah couldn’t decide on what to do about it. If he happens to agree on his idea, that meant they’re also one step closer into discovering the secret that he desperately tried keeping; that the resources and animals he had right now are not genuinely bred and fed by himself. That everything good and unique about his Stream Ranch had gone through the layer inside the Magic Ball. And soon, the secret will be out in no time.

The good thing about it is that the truth wasn’t one you’d usually believe the instant you hear about it.  

Unless shown proof, of course. It was what Brice had been questioning him about. He asked questions that Noah finds too scary and risky to answer.

“Move over there,” he called to a construction worker that tried putting the scaffolding for another house he would like to build near the barn. He had his hands on his hips.

“Make sure not to fall, alright? I don’t want to lose anyone here.”

The construction worker tipped his head down in recognition. “We won’t, sir!”

“Don’t worry,” Wynn approached him from behind, a tray of food stacked in his hand as he called the other workers to take breaks and eat the bread Thomas baked for breakfast.

“Are those scones?” Noah exclaimed in a way that people wouldn’t notice how excited he was for the bread.

“Freshly baked by Pops,” Wynn proudly handed the construction workers their snacks. “Angela thought him how to make one.”

“Of course, she did that, didn’t she?” Brice’s wife had been into cooking ever since she had a taste of Nancy’s steak. Thomas unexpectedly joined them when he had time. And now, he’s making scones and other kinds of bread he’d learned to cook.

The smile on Wynn’s face widened from Noah’s reaction.

“I mean, Thomas—baking us breads? The man hardly ever smiles, and now, you mean to say that he was making bread for everyone?”

“Oh, you bet!” He placed the bread near Noah’s nose. The scent was the mix of cheese and bacon—two things he always craved during a busy morning such as this.

Once he had the bread inside his mouth, he couldn’t help but moan from the pleasure it made him feel. It was that good!

“Bravo!” he exclaimed. “How in the world was Nancy able to make it this good?”

Wynn’s face had a curious reaction—Noah realized his Italian accent must have resurfaced based on the confusion in Wynn’s expression.

“It happens,” he said through a mouthful.

“It’s the first time, sir, that I heard you talk in such an accent.”

Noah licked his fingers, not minding the people that caught what he’s doing. The food was that good.

“Is that so?” he grinned. “Do you find it weird if I speak that way?”

Wynn lifted his hand in defense, “Not at all, sir! It’s just I found it…new.”

Noah let out a hearty laugh, “Of course. You haven’t heard me speak in such a way. When I first came here, people would always notice my accent,” he placed his hand underneath his chin. “And they’d always make a point that I sounded too Italian. Although I didn’t mind.”

It’s true. Noah was fluent in English, yet people still notice his accent. He didn’t know if it bothered them or that majority of the people in America are just biased about their way of speaking.

Noah didn’t mind if they notice, though. It’s what he had used to speak when he grew up. It’s not like he can turn around and forget where he came from. He’s proud of the accent he had when speaking the English language.

“People had often called me for this,” said Noah as Wynn handed him a glass of water, “and I think they shouldn’t mind it. It’s not my first language, anyway,”

“You’re right,” Wynn agreed. “I didn’t mind at all. Sometimes the white race feels superior over other races that they’re starting to forget that they, at some point, ruined some lives because of it.”

Noah bounced his hand up and down Wynn’s shoulder.

“Be that person who didn’t mind no matter race they are.”

Noah had been scanning a magazine Thomas bought on the way home. It had Real-life Crazy Rich Asians on one of its articles inside.

He flipped the page open and found a woman leaning on her door frame. She was dubbed the richest Asian woman as of this year.

When he read the article dedicated to her, it stated that she had several properties all over Asia and Europe. She ran a clothing company that caters to designs uniquely based on Asian culture.

Noah was amazed by her dedication and passion. Not everyone can do fashion the way she does. Noah thought she practically took it into a whole new level of creativity and patriotism.

The article also stated that she had several high-end brands she collects. She had like two dozen of cars, one private jet, and… a helicopter.

“Oh, wow,” when he turned the next page, the Asian woman was in a red dress, her arms crossed, her helicopter behind her.

Noah whistled at the beauty behind the Asian woman. It had been the prettiest aircraft he had ever seen. His eyes practically sparkled at the thought of owning one. He shook his head—there he goes again.

Once he set his mind into something, it would take an entire argument to make him change his mind.

"What are you doing?" Thomas walked out of the kitchen's arc.

Noah raised the magazine to his view, “Been reading the magazine you got on the way home.”

Thomas nodded. He stretched his arms in the air and yawned a little. Because of the ranch’s expansion, the lot of them had been busy for the past week.

Noah decided to add more structures that he deemed beneficial for the business and animals. He had a meeting with several ranchers, and he had Thomas, Wynn, and Nancy included in it.

No one disagreed with him, except when Thomas pointed a few things to consider, such as the noise. Animals' sense of hearing is sensitive, after all. Noah had the animals moved to the other side of the ranch. He hadn’t allowed any horse out of their stables for a week now, and he assumed that they must’ve been bored to death by now.

“You know,” he started as he flipped the page of the magazine that featured the helicopter. “I’m considering…”

Thomas threw him a suspicious look, “Considering what?”

Noah observed his face. By now, he had memorized the facial expression Thomas is about to make.

“Please don’t tell me you’re buying more horses.”

Noah shook his head. “Maybe in the near future?”

“If it’s for racing—”

His hand rummaged through the couch he was sitting at. Then, it landed on the magazine. Flipping the pages to where the helicopter is, Noah held it up in front of Noah’s face, “Here,” he said as he pointed his index finger on the helicopter.

Thomas had a blank expression on his face.

The older man scratched at his beard, then his neck. He let out a long sigh as he closed his eyes. Then, he leveled his stare at Noah’s light brown eyes.

"You know," he stated, "I think I'm not the right guy to ask about such things."

Noah’s brow creased. He had always asked stuff about Thomas, and asking things he wanted to buy for the ranch was among them. They’re definitely not an exemption.

“What are you talking about, Thomas?” Noah shook the magazine in his hands. “I’ve always asked you about things—”

"No," Thomas cut him off, "I…I think I'm not fit to answer that one," said Thomas. He began walking back inside the arc that leads toward the kitchen, and Noah wondered what the hell was happening to him.

Did the question offend him that much?

He was only going to ask if it was a good thing to own his own helicopter…? He didn't find the question offending, though. He expected Thomas to entirely give his opinion about the matter, but the older man retreated in his sanctuary. 

There were the little noises of cups and spoon clattering on the background. What the hell is he doing? He thought inwardly. The older man never shied away from the critical questions thrown at him, especially if it’s related to the well-being of the ranch.

Noah held the magazine in his hands. He jumped at the headrest of the sofa and began striding toward the kitchen.

He found Thomas on the kitchen counter. He sat quietly on a stool, a cup at hand. The steam flew on his face as he inhaled the scent of the hot beverage.

"Thomas, I'm telling you—" he showed the magazine in front of the older man.

“Noah, no.”

“What?”

“I’m not the right person for questions about love.”

Noah froze. He didn’t know what Thomas was saying. It’s as if his mind will explode any minute.

“What? Love?” there was a blank look on his face.

Thomas turned at him, “Yes. If you would like to meet that woman in the red dress, then I suggest you contact the editors on that magazine site.”

Then it dawned to him. That explains why the old man shied away from him! He thought he was asking about the woman next to the helicopter!

“No…that’s…” he couldn’t stop himself from exploding. His boisterous laugh reverberated in the entire room that they were in.

“That’s not what I meant!” he patted Thomas’ shoulder, the older man looking confused at him.

“It’s not?”

Noah nodded, the tears pooling at the end of his eyes as he rocked back and forth from laughing. He felt the muscles of his stomach constricting from too much cracking at Thomas had thought of.

“I was talking about the helicopter,” he finally said, out of breath.

Thomas masked his face professionally. “You’re telling me that you want to buy a helicopter?”

“Yes!” he pointed at the helicopter next to the woman in the red dress.

“That one.”

Noah thinks the design is chic and minimalist. He can use it for traveling, or perhaps hire his personal pilot, or learn how to ride one instead.

“That would cost you millions.”

“Wouldn’t it be great?”

“Millions, Noah. You can’t afford that. Your account would go bankrupt within ten swipes.”

The older man was making a point. He'd have to think about the gas, the maintenance of the helicopters, the pilot he'd have to hire—it would cost him another fortune, and it's probably going to get bigger than the profit he gets from selling poultry and livestock.

Sighing, Noah closed the magazine. “You’re probably right.”

“What do you need it for, exactly?”

“Probably for some aerial inspection,”

Thomas patted his back, “Don’t be lazy. You can always inspect this place through walking or riding Bean.”

Noah inwardly thought that it was an excellent choice to have talked about Thomas on such matters. He'd always knock some sense on him every time