Raindrops kissed the window as the keys on a laptop kept on clicking inside a room. Outside was cold as the rain kept itself falling from the sky. The ambience was familiar to him: the sound of the rain, the cold night breeze coming from the narrow way between the bottom rail and the stool of the window, and the feeling of arousal inside, getting him distracted most of the seconds.

He took a deep breath and withdrew it gradually as he tried to get his mind back on track. He was busy studying and exploring the field he was getting to hold too soon. He knew how hard it would be to handle bankruptcy, and he also knew that his grandfather, the strong-willled tyrant, was too old to manage the company.

He clicked his tongue as her naked figure laying on his bed popped into his mind. He raised his elbow to the surface of his ash-colored table, reached his temple and massaged it as he closed his eyes tightly.

“Kela. . .” he mumbled as he continued caressing his forehead. “Get off my mind!”

He knew he was lying when he told her that he’d forget about her. Who could forget such a goddess with a wide perspective about things, endearing personality and wild passion in bed. It looked like she was a gift from the heavens-she was an angel, but that was before she left him to go abroad. As soon as she stepped out of his life, his days felt like hell with its own agony.

He stared at the screen of his laptop for a couple of minutes already until he smashed his fist on the table due to frustration. “Damn!” he snapped.

He leaned back onto his chair, ran his hands all over his face and withdrew a lungful air through his mouth. He couldn’t believe it! It’s been almost a year since she left but how does her shadows and scents stayed inside his unit?

He could remember how they kissed while she’s sitting on his table, how he flipped her gently on his bed, he could remember her slender body standing on the kitchen, making breakfast for him. He could remember all of these detailed memories of her, but so was she?

Florence couldn’t answer that, and he concluded himself as stupid as a fly hovering over a spider’s web without knowing that it’d be trapped. To think deeply, he could be that fly and her existence could be the web. He’s stuck on it forever and drain his life empty.

He scoffed with his thoughts before he murmured. “How could a sane person like me think a metaphorical situation like that? I ain’t even a poet myself.”

Is he stupid? Probably. Stupid on hoping that she’d be back soon, that she’d be regretting that she chose her career over him.

He froze for a moment as he realized what he just thought. “What a selfish thing to do,” he said to the night. “What could be more stupid than asking someone choose you over the life they’re wanting to make? AND STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF, FLORENCE!”

The moment he finished his sentence, his phone rang. He glanced at its way and picked it up. It was his grandfather, Richard Middleton, calling.

“Yes?” he said to the man on the line.

“Come to my office,” Richard commanded. “We need to talk, son.”

Florence watched his laptop intently as he reloaded a page on a site. He sank on his chair and cleared his throat. “Can we have it tomorrow? I am busy at the moment.”

“It’s. . .” There’s a short silence. “Eleven in the evening, Florence, what are you up to?”

There’s stillness in the tyrant’s voice. Richard’s getting irritated by his grandson’s act of refusal of his command. Florence must follow him right away.

“Alright, alright,” he subsided. “I’ll be coming there in a minute.”

“Don’t keep your old man waiting, Florence.” Those are the last words Florence heard before the phone started beeping when the call was dropped.

Florence got up to his feet, walked to the door and proceed immediately to Richard’s office. He didn’t want his grandfather know that he’s studying the business by his own. He didn’t want the old man to send him to school because he’d know what Richard would say.

“I told you before to take a business-related course! But you didn’t , instead you took up some stupid field of music and arts! Do you think you can make money in it? You don’t even want to be exposed on the media, how could you make money from music?”

Those words would bleed but not much as before. He’s used to it already, in fact he’s living what the old man has said.

He knocked the door twice and heard a weak voice from the inside, telling him to come in. Quietly, he turned the knob and got himself inside. Richard was reading something on a paper, and when Florence closed the door, the oppressor looked at him over the rim of his glasses with a slightly titled head.

“There you are,” Richard said and closed the brochure-like paper. “I want you to read this,” he added and pushed the paper to him.

He really didn't want to waste time, Florence thought soundlessly and picked up the paper. It was a letter from his grandfather’s old pal, Antonito Lopez.

Florence glanced swiftly to Richard before his eyes came back to the paper. “What does this thing has to do with me?”

Richard waved his hand in a slight annoyance. “Oh, just read it!”

Florence kept his mouth shut and read the letter silently.

“I came to write this letter to inform you about a business proposal I had in mind, but this has nothing to do with you, my friend. Apparently, I’ve learned that you have a grandson named Florence Middleton. Is he the son of your late daughter Dennise? If so, I am interested on knowing your young man. Also, I heard about the wreckage that's currently happening in your company and I wanted to help. Please let Florence know that I’d like to invite him to a dinner at La Remina tomorrow, 7 pm sharp. I’m looking forward to meet him. Your pal, Antonito.”

Florence’s eyes lifted up to watch his grandfather intently. Curiosity usually kills the cat they say, and Florence was ready to get killed this time. He got a lot of questions in mind: First, why would Mr. Lopez lend a help? Maybe because of the fact that he and Florence’s grandfather are friends for almost five decades now. Second, why him instead of Richard? What does this proposal has something to do with him? Why him?

“Well?” Richard clasped his hands together as his elbows rested on each side of his swivel chair. He swinged the chair slightly from left to right as he waited Florence’s answer.

He didn't want to ask Richard his questions in mind because he knew how his grandfather would react. He would know Antonito’s reason why he looked for Florence anyway.

He took a couple of seconds staring Richard’s face intently that’s now getting to show impatience. He scoffed and dropped his hand on his side with the letter on it before he said.

“I’ll show up.”

The next night, 6:54 p.m

Florence strode through the waves of bodies walking on the sidewalk and just before he could enter the La Remina, his phone rang.

He picked It up and was about to speak when the man from the other line talk abruptly. “Are you late? Don’t keep old people waiting, Florence.”

Florence wanted to roll his eyes in a manly way but stopped himself knowing that he’s on a public road. He heard that phrase many times already and swore that he never let anyone wait for him, not even an old friend of his grandfather!

“I am here already, don’t worry.” He used his flat tone, walked into the luxurious restaurant and found the old businessman instantly. “Saw him.”

“Good to know, wish you perfect good lucks.” Then the phone started beeping.

Florence withdrew a deep breath and took steps toward Antonito Lopez’s table. The old man’s face lighted up when their eyes met. Unlike his grandfather, despite of having wrinkled forehead and cheeks, Antonito’s eyes looked so alive. Richard’s eyes were the opposite, those were dark and judging. But Antonito’s seemed to be charming.

“Ho-ho, Florence Middleton, I suppose?” The humble old businessman got up on his feet and extended a hand for a shake.

Florence shook it. “I am honored to see you, Mr. Lopez. Thank you for waiting, you’re early.”

“I love coming early to take a seat as long as I wanted,” Antonito stated and pointed a chair. “Mind to sit?”

“Thank you,” Florence said. The ambience of the restaurant was breathtaking. The huge chandeliers lingered on the ceiling with it's finest bulbs and the scent of luxury filled the air that made Florence remember someone.

Kela again. No other than her.

“Before we spilled the business on the table, let’s just have some food to sprinkle it on. Choose anything you want, Mr. Middleton. I am glad you show up for me.”

Florence replied a smile. Very humble, he commented in his mind. No wonder why this man’s a successor.

Both of them ordered food minutes later, Florence settled himself comfortably in his seat as his eyes explored the whole place, until it dropped down on Antonito’s face which is seemingly waiting for his attention.

“Oh. . .” Florence mumbled.

“I don’t want to waste time, Mr. Middleton,” Antonito started. “My granddaughter, Stacy, hasn’t changed for years, still stubborn. She’s already 26, turning 27 in 3 or 4 months, and it seemed to me that she has no plans on settling down. She kept on playing with her big bike around and showing up on galleries. She very likes publicity and the sense of youth, and I respect her wants in life. However, I am getting old, you see.”

Florence was confused. He wrinkled his forehead and watched the old man’s face intently. What was he getting into?

The old man continued. ”I wanted to know that she’ll be having a purposeful life even if I’d be gone. . .”

Florence wanted to interrupt but Antonito cut his upcoming line and said abruptly. “I want you to marry my granddaughter.”

Florence felt how his jaw unhinge. “What?” The question was harsher that he expected it to be but it is what it is.

“I know it’s questionable why all of a sudden I schemed about this and why I chose you,” Antonito said as if he was reading Florence’s mind. “But I wanted her to marry a good man. I wanted to know that there will be an inheritor and I wanted it to be a boy. You see, Stacy is all I have. Just like you, you’re all Richard has. We both know it.”

Florence searched for intelligent words to say but ended up asking. “Why me?”

“I’ve heard so much about you from your grandfather, young man,” Antonito answered. “You are kind, you are responsible as he said. I wonder how to have a son-in-law like you.”

From his grandfather? Florence asked himself. Did Richard brag him to his old friend? Florence felt a rush of happiness running through his veins but he kept steady on his seat.

“I. . .” he mumbled. “I don’t have anything to say, Mr. Antonito-“ His line was cut off when the old man started to chuckle.

“This has to be an iced water splashed to your face, ain’t it? I understand.” Antonito nodded repeatedly. “I’d give you to time to consider it but I’m looking forward for you to accept my offer, and please wait for the contract I’d be sending you probably tomorrow.”

Still, Florence has no words to reply. He didn’t know how he should react knowing that Richard told Antonito things about him.

“You are kind. . . You are responsible as he said. . .” The line kept on repeating in his head.

“For me, this is a give and take,” Antonito said that snapped Florence back into reality. “I’ll help you with your company, you’ll marry my granddaughter. All conditions would be printed on that contact tomorrow so read it.”

Florence’s mouth hang slightly open and Antonito found it really amusing. “Enough of that,” he muttered.”I don’t really want to talk about business in a private restaurant, so let’s just have a casual talk as you sink my news into your mind. So, shall we?”

Florence nodded silently and watched Antonito call a waiter. He heard that the old man had asked for a wine and glasses which instantly reminded him of their company.

He mumbled the name. ”Middleton’s Wine and Kisses. . .”