Chapter 7: Secretary Andrew's Heart Skips A Beat
"We have our first participant!"
The crowd bellowed with a cacophony of cheers. Two shirtless men approached them, and Sir Allen stopped with his feeble attempt to tuck his shirt back in. He glowered at the two men. He didn't budge at first, but Sir Allen cleared his throat and went willingly in the arms of his escort. The crowd parted in half to make way for him. The words Handsome, Rich, and Did you see that v-cut? Were tossed around.
A furious Oliver, on the other hand, came marching down to him with his jaw all set and tense. "Little unpaid hoe. You better be here to pay your tab—" Andrew cut him off when he brandished Sir Allen's black credit card. Furious eyes glistened with joy. The frown turned upside down into a smirk. Oliver winked at him, and with a little wave of his finger a bartended holding a card terminal came running. Oliver dipped the card. The machine flashed a Transaction Successful message.
Oliver returned the card and said, "Give this man a drink and spill the tea on that arm candy you've brought."
Andrew watched Sir Allen go up on stage. He stood with his hands behind him, and his stance as dignified as one could possibly muster with half his shirt untucked, missing a button, and the club getting glimpse of this supposed v-cut that Andrew hasn't been privy to. He was tight-lipped and replying only with grunts. The man really had the talent to bring down a room.
"These kinds of places aren't really my thing," Sir Allen replied to Louis Button.
"These kinds of places?" asked Louis Button. "What's wrong with these kinds of places?"
"Ah, no—um. It's."
This was going worse than Andrew expected. He needed to fix it. So, he downed his drink and shouted for the whole club to hear. "He's nervous because he just came out!"
Louis Button's face lit up with happiness same as the crowd who yelled Congratulations! Coupled with a resounding applause.
"You go, bitch!" said someone from the crowd. "Don't be nervous!"
"We love your energy. Give us nothing!" The crowd laughed whole-heartedly as Sir Allen's only was to stay still, hands still behind his back, and reply with, "Oh, thank you. It was a pleasant coming out."
"Oh, I didn't realize this was such a big moment. No wonder you look like a cruel vice president or something," said Louis Button, flustered. "Congratulations, dear. Welcome to the land of the free."
Andrew wasn't done. "He also came out to his parents!" The club gasped again. Louis Button's eyes popped out. Heads turned towards Andrew, and he paused just for a moment in suspense. He regarded the crowd, then Oliver, who groaned in annoyance and said, "Come on. Tell us what happened, already!"
Andrew grinned. He bellowed from the top of his lungs, "And they accepted him!" The DJ played horn noises. Diana Ross' Coming Out started playing. The crowd sung along. And Louis Button enveloped Sir Allen in a warm embrace and patted his head. From afar, Andrew couldn't hear what she said but it looked like: "It must have been hard, huh?" Sir Allen returned the embrace in a stiff manner and everyone found it amusing.
Louis Button continued with the trivia night with a more relaxed Sir Allen. Oliver sighed and sat beside him. "Why are you so extra?" he asked.
Andrew shrugged. "I'm gay. I was born extra under the full moon."
Oliver puffed out a breath through his nose. "Good point," he said as he brought up his drink and clinked it with Andrews.
"We have two very difficult questions," said Louis Button. "Allen, you'll be given 10 seconds to answer. Are you ready?"
Sir Allen nodded, determined.
"Alright, DJ give me some suspenseful music." The soundtrack of Legally Blonde's courtroom scene blasted throughout the club. "How many islands are there in the Philippines? Timer stars no—"
"7,614." Sir Allen's answer was concise and immediate.
"Um, okay," Louis Button was baffled. "Last question. 9,100 is what percent of 400,000?"
"How many decimal places?" Came Sir Allen's response.
Crickets. Even from the crowd. Not a word. Louis Button glanced at Andrew. He chuckled and raised two fingers. Louis Button laughed awkwardly and said, "How 'bout two? Um, yeah, two decimal places?"
Sir Allen nodded and raised a hand in a dignified manner like the nerd he was. He said, "9,100 is 2.25% of 400,000."
Louis Button blinked and peeked at her cue cards. Her eyes popped out. "Wow. I can't believe this. Handsome and smart because your answers are all correct!"
Confetti popped and rained from the ceiling. Andrew jumped out from his seat and dashed towards the front of the stage, where he took burst shots of Sir Allen receiving a placard that read Smartest Homo in the Building.
Sir Allen was asked to smile for the audience. And Andrew was fascinated at how Sir Allen individually instructed each of his facial muscle to muster up a smile. Sir Allen went down, and Andrew made to give him congratulatory hug, but he was glared down by Sir Allen, so he opted for a clap on the shoulder. As they made their way back to their seats, Sir Allen was pressured to drink several shots of alcohol that were given to him, and he never failed to grimace after each one. Everyone found it hilarious.
"How are you feeling?" Andrew asked Sir Allen who had a glazed look.
"It's weird how everyone was so...open about a stranger's coming out experience."
Andrew nudged him with his shoulder. "That's because coming out takes guts, courage, and a little desperation. And all of us here knows the risk of coming out, especially coming out to their parents. That's why we celebrate the person owning their freedom. No more hiding, no more secrets. That's the one thing these strangers and us have in common. Pride in our sexuality and the experience of coming out."
Sir Allen nodded. "Then I respect everyone here for their courage."
Andrew lets out a surprised chuckle. "Now that you've been accepted by the pack. Why don't we do what we're supposed to do here."
Sir Allen swiveled in his seat, called the bartender, and nodded at Andrew. He was determined to get wasted and take photos of it. Though, those photo's Andrew took would already suffice, but hey. Sir Allen's buying.
Sir Allen passed a Bombay Gin to Andrew and raised his glass. "To fake dating," he said. "And to you, my secretary and my friend, Andrew."
Andrew clinks his glass with Sir Allen's. "To us. Let's get drunk!"
When Allen exclaimed that they would be drunk as hell. He did not mean after four glasses of high-alcohol content liquor.
Beads of sweat were flowing down Andrew's face as he carried a passed-out Sir Allen on his back. His feet kept dragging along on the ground making an irritating sound like a chalk being scratched down a blackboard. Aside from Andrew's lack of height and Sir Allen body heat covering Andrew's whole back, the man weighed like a ton of cement. It must be all the pent-up gayness he's kept hidden all these years. And the unlimited rage that he hasn't had the opportunity to tap in a while. That's what happens when you're on an indefinite leave, there's no coworker you can yell at.
Once they reached the side road, Andrew flagged down a taxi and slumped the giant devil on the back seat. He couldn't resist taking a photo...and a selfie. He also asked the driver if he could take a photo of us. He gave Andrew a weird look.
"Oh, oh, no, this isn't some kind of scandal for ransom kind of photo," said Andrew, defensively. "It's more of a 'Rare photo of your boss getting wasted' kind of moment." He smiled to prove a point. The bald driver extended an open palm in response. Andrew couldn't help but sigh. Though he respected the hussle.
He swiped some blue bills from Sir Allen's wallet and handed it to the driver. They exchanged smiles and the driver willingly did a photoshoot on the side of the road with a passed-out man in button downs and slacks and his tipsy secretary. After a couple of 'I'm so disappointed in you, son' shots. The pair were well on their way to Sir Allen's home.
Andrew took out his phone, scanned through his email, and replied to the urgent ones. Even Sonna's begruntled We miss you's and This place is burning without you. He asked for any updates on the illegal lenders preying on their employees. He should work on that tonight. Andrew just couldn't stomach the fact that some rich guy and his company has been preying on low-income employees. He let out a weary sigh.
"Sir, can you turn on the radio?"
The driver nodded and he tuned it in to some late-night talk show.
"Opportunities are a rare thing," said the DJ in his musky voice which caught Andrew's attention. "It comes to you rarely, so you always have to be ready when it comes flashing towards you. But the funny thing is sometimes you just don't see it. Even if it was right in front of your, or even flashing neon signs towards you. If you don't have the focus to see it. You probably won't. Good thing A&C has the right product for you."
Andrew regarded Sir Allen in the soft wash of the passing neon lights.
Opportunities right in front of you. It got Andrew thinking if there was an opportunity here. The idea had snowballed in Andrew's head. Where it rolled down the snowy mountain path as it collected snow and got larger and larger until it hit Andrew. And that's where he instructed the taxi to turn around and drive to a new and better location. Andrew thought long and hard about this. Would Sir Allen yell at him, choke him to death due to unkept rage, and toss him to the ocean? Probably. Or they would be one step closer to goal. Sir Allen did say a while ago:
"You should take risks."
"So, I should bitch slap your mom?"
"I was talking about the stock market, Andrew."
Who says Andrew wasn't learning? Alright, let's live a life filled with risks.
-#-
Consciousness slapped Andrew awake via the incessant ringing of his phone. His mind wakes up a second before his eyes. His eyelids still shuttered as his soul remained connected to his bed. But he did notice the absence of the usual heaviness that blanketed his body. A good night-out will do that to you.
A drunk Sir Allen flashed on his mind and he can't help the upward curl of his lips.
His phone rang again. Then he realized it was the special ringtone he set for Sir Allen. His eyes fly open, and he swipes his phone and answers the call.
"It's not that bad. Though I cannot remember how I got it." Was Sir Allen greeting. "Why is your screen all dark?"
"Huh?" Andrew tears his phone away from his ear and finally Sir Allen was video calling him. He closed in on his brand-new tattoo: a filled-out kitchen knife and spatula crossed together to form an X. And Other than the astonishing fact that Sir Allen initiated a video call, Andrew was mesmerized by the flexing bicep emphasized by the rolled-up t-shirt sleeve.
The video shook a little and Sir Allen's morning face appeared on the screen. His mussed-down hair and bare face in its full glory. "It is a good choice," he said. "Well done, well done." His deadpan delivery didn't match the unabashed crooked grin on his face, and Ah—That's what a happy Sir Allen looks like. Andrew couldn't help the small of curl of his lips in response. Well, would you look at that. Sir Allen just made Andrew's morning.
"By the way," he said. "I saw my credit card transaction history a while ago."
Andrew's heart skipped a beat.
"Also, where's my car? How do you think we're going to the dinner?"
Bend over and die, Sir Allen.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone