Chapter 5

Darwin tried to read the letter twice.

         He had received this letter just an hour ago from his half-brother. He smiled as soon as his secretary handed it to him; not because it came from his estranged brother, but because it was enclosed in a smooth, gold envelope and had even a luxurious fragrance of a perfume still on it.

         “He badly needed my help, if this is how he gave the letter to me,” Darwin muttered as he opened it with a letter opener, the knife glinting as the fluorescent bulb cast its light onto them.

Dearest Brother,

         You know me as a casino buddy, don't you? Well, I saw you last night with a sexy chick. Don’t lie to me, Darwin. I know you for being the ‘women’s man’.

         My point is, you know how people thrive inside the world of gambling. So, I’d like to make a proposition…”

         Darwin halted while reading it. God above, his brother is one hell of a shrewd gambler.

         His wristwatch rang, a signal for his break time. Darwin was debating if he’s gonna spend his break time reading the letter from his half-brother or should he have a coffee at Starbucks.

         Five minutes later, he decided to do both. Sitting near the window while drinking a macchiato grande, he continued to read his brother’s letter.

         So, I’d like to make a proposition.

         You will finance me with my gambling for twelve consecutive months. Everytime I win, I will give 50% to you so that I can pay less after 12 months. If I don’t, then the money I owe to you is as is.

         After the twelve months,  I’ll pay you gradually with all I can. If I have given you half of my winnings at that time, then the remaining debt is all I need to pay. Mark my words.

         If, under any unpleasant circumstances should happen to me, a woman shall be the payment.

         No, she will not be going to pay my debts. She will BE the payment of my debts.

         Don’t worry, brother. She’s one hell of a sexy chick; much sexier than the woman you brought with you yesterday.

This will be all, and hope to hear from you as soon as possible.

With love,

D.G.

         Darwin had read the letter now thrice. 

Unable to decide, he set the letter aside.

         But a picture slid out.

         He took one look at the picture and knew then. He knew that his half-brother wasn’t lying about the collateral he’ll be giving, about the woman he will be giving as the collateral.

         An hour later, Darwin grabbed his fountain pen and a paper. He wrote all the words that he had decided to reply—his own terms and conditions pertaining to the proposition and about the collateral.

         The collateral. It was a woman. A damn, beautiful, voluptuous woman.

         His brother had prompted him to do business. 

And so he will do business.

         He is a freaking, darn wealthy businessman; perhaps his brother had forgotten.

         And anyone who does business with Darwin Gray will do either of these things: surrender or obey.

***

Minerva’s heart was on the brink of cracking.

         Her father had passed. 

Gone. Withered. Turned into ashes as all humans do.

         She had locked herself inside her room for more than 48 hours now. The tiny fridge and mini-pantry inside her room were the only salvation to her hungry stomach.

         Her mother had also left them for another wealthier man even before her father surrendered to Mr. Death.

         And so, she was now alone. Lonely, and sad. She had long gone to the independent path.

         But, loneliness and living alone are two different things despite people often mistaking them as synonymous.

         But Minerva Miller, she is both—lonely and living alone; without anyone to rely on or to lean on in desperate times. 

She supposed it's only her pillow that had been the witness of her tears and sobbing. Her bad days and good days. Her childhood life and her coming-of-age life. But a pillow is just a pillow. A non-living, cotton-filled, sleeping material. Nothing more than the receiver of her wet tears and the giver of her comfortable, sound sleep.

         But Minerva’s subconscious pushed her to bathe in the morning sun—to go out and at least see the beauty of the modern world.

         ‘Gloominess will do nothing to you but tears and reminiscence…You. Better. Be. Out.’ Her subconscious whispers, making Minerva frown in dismay.

         “What am I supposed to do?!” She said as she stood and threw her pillow into the wall and went to the pantry for a pack of Doritos.

         Yet, her pantry was filled with nothing more but a silent air and blank space.

         Her frowned face was now more visible.

         Minerva looked around her room. Her messy bed, her untidy clothes, her stuffed toys on the floor, her curtains still widely shut.

         Dark, gloomy, and without life. That’s what her room is. Probably also what’s inside her—her very own feelings. 

         “I better have a grocery…”

         So she did.

***

Minerva almost forgot what a grocery store looks like: how it feels like to be inside and how it feels like to buy those goods with your own money. Well, it’s already her money because her father had left it to her, left it for her.

         And so she took each food and good she wanted and needed; what her eyes had caught and what her hands had refused to return to the grocery aisle.

         She was about to go to the cashier when—

         “Ouch!”

         “I’m sorry, sir!”

         The man she bumped looked at her—the ‘sir’ rather.

         “Oh…where are your parents, child?”

         ‘Child? He called me child?!’ Minerva thought, screaming on the inside.

         “I am a teenager, mister…”

         “I see. You look too young for a teenager, so skinny and…pale.”

         Minerva blushed. “I’m flattered, mister.”

         “And you’re blushing,” the mister said with a grin, a smile.

         “You’re the first one to make me blush in weeks. You see, my father just recently passed and my mother had long left us for a wealthier and younger man.”

         She swore there was some sort of pity and sorrow in the mister’s eyes.

         “I am very sorry for what you have experienced. I rarely met people like you who had broken families due to my status. Would you like me to pay for your goods instead?”

         Minerva was about to consider it when she took one glance at him. He could’ve been rich, perhaps far more richer.

         “No thanks, my father had left me enough money.” She then walks away as soon as she can without offering a glance again at his direction or a smile.

         Minerva can barely recall when she last met a wealthy man like him, a handsome man like him.

         “Your bill is $256.90, miss,” said the cashier as soon as she finished calculating her goods.

         “Cash or credit card?” The cashier, a name Marge on her nameplate, asked.

         But Minerva greatly scowled. She had only $100 left in her wallet. Minerva forgot to withdraw.

         “I’m screwed!” She cursed silently.

         “I’ll pay for it, Ms.”

         It was the voice of the handsome and wealthy man…again.

         And Minerva couldn’t recall how grateful she is for the man. She didn’t even remember how many thank-you she had muttered or how many sweet, angelic smiles she managed to plastered on her youthful face.

         Minerva watched as the wealthy man assisted her to her car as she had bought way too many goods for a single person living on a single roof.

         “God, I wish I will have a husband like that.”

         That was Minerva’s last words as she drove herself home. She even found herself dreaming and daydreaming about the handsome and wealthy man that she barely knew what his name was.