C5: Crushing on Mrs. Somebody

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Derek Lupasha swung the golf club and hit the snow-white golf ball. He watched it as it soared through the sky before eventually giving in to gravity. It fell onto the lush green lawn of the golf course and rolled down towards the hole.

“You know you can keep ignoring me all you want, but that won’t make me go away,” his sister’s voice came from behind him. He slowly turned to face her, a wide grin on his face.

“Sis, were you saying something?”

Dressed in white-and-black large polka-dot golf shorts paired with a white sleeveless polo shirt, Fidelia huffed and glared at him. She was a small person with a huge personality and presence.

“Don’t you dare play that game with me, Derek. Just answer me already. Are you coming for dinner? And how was your date last night with Melinda?”

“Aha, so that was her name,” he mused, taking off his white golf gloves. “No wonder she left in such a huff.”

“What did you do?” she asked with dread while rubbing her temples under her black visor hat.

“Me? Why do I always get to be the bad guy?” he asked innocently, walking over to her.

Fidelia raised an eyebrow at him, and he couldn’t help but laugh. It always happened like this. His family would set him up on a blind date with some woman or another, and he always ended up sabotaging all his dates.

He was the only son of Zoe and Fred Lupasha, the founders of Lupasha Holdings, though they had both retired and given the reins to him.

The couple had five children, with him being the third and only boy. The whole family had taken it upon themselves to see to it that he got married and continued the family line.

He was thirty-three and had had his share of women, but he was yet to find the right one. All his siblings were married with families of their own.

He loved and adored his dozen or so nieces and nephews, but he had never met a woman who stirred his blood enough to make him want to create and build his own family.

“Why do you always do this?” the short woman asked exasperatedly, throwing her hands in the air.

“Did it ever occur to you guys that maybe I’m just not cut out for all this family stuff?”

She squinted her eyes at him as he accepted a bottle of water from her. “You know, you are making us worry and beginning to wonder if everything is okay.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, taking a sip of water.

Fidelia shrugged her shoulders, sighed, and gave him an apologetic smile. “You know…” she nodded awkwardly toward his crotch.

Derek choked and spat out the water. “What the hell, sis?”

“Well, what else are we to think?”

“Oh, trust me. Things are fine down there. Way too fine. Darn it, sis. This conversation is wrong on so many levels.”

“You know there’s help nowadays. The treatment has advanced…”

“Fidelia…” he growled warningly.

“Or maybe you play for the other team. That’s fine too,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Derek stared at her in shock, rubbing his forehead for patience.

“Now I’m gay?” he murmured, struggling not to burst into hysterical laughter.

“We are a liberal family. We will accept and understand. Just… just… don’t keep us in the dark. Talk to us.”

He couldn’t get angry even if he wanted to. He understood where they were coming from. No one had the guts to confront him about such sensitive matters—hence her. She was the one person who could get away with it.

She was the youngest, younger by a good ten years, but it was she who was closest to him and the only one who called his bluff to his face. But still, even for them, this conversation was too much.

“I’m sorry. I had to ask,” she ended meekly yet frustrated.

“I know you all mean well. But this pressure—I don’t need it. I’m just not ready to settle down. It will happen when it happens.”

“You need a wife to take care of you. A family you can come home to and call your own. Don’t you want that? Don’t you envy your friends?”

Did he? he asked himself later as he drove through the gates of his mansion. It had been hours since he had had the conversation with his sister Fidelia, who was already a mother to two boys. And the answer he came up with was a resounding no.

He was comfortable with his life. He was yet to meet the woman who would drive him to the altar.

When Derek got home that afternoon, still dressed in his golfing attire, he found the chauffeur from three houses down waiting for him on the verandah.

He parked his red Porsche next to his midnight-black Mercedes S65 AMG under the open garage that housed an extensive car collection. He got out, left the golf bag in the car, and walked toward him.

“Old man Bowa,” he called out to the elderly man. “Do you have good news for me?” he asked.

The old man stood up from the chair. “No, please don’t stand up for me,” he said quickly as he reached out his hand for a handshake.

“Sir Lupasha,” the elderly man, Mr. Bowa, said as he firmly shook the hand of the young man. The two had known each other since Derek had started building in the village complex three years ago. Derek pulled a chair and sat down.

The elderly man asked about his family. Derek informed him they were all doing fine, and the old man praised God.

“Eh, about that issue, I have brought the girl with me. She can start any day,” he said. “She just went to the back to drink some water.”

At the tail end of his sentence, a girl of breathtaking beauty emerged from the back, wiping her face. He stared and found himself on his feet.

Derek was a man who had been around the block and had seen his fair share of beautiful women of all shapes, sizes, races, and creeds. But as he stared at the light-skinned, petite girl before him, he realized this was the definition of true beauty.

The girl who stood before him had unrivaled natural beauty, even in the rags she wore that passed for clothes.

Derek tried to gauge her age and put her in her late teens. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from her, even though he knew his staring was making her uncomfortable as she looked down and fidgeted on her feet in the worn-out trousers she wore.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her; it was a wonder his jaw didn’t fall to the tiled floor.

“Oh, Ysabelle, there you are. I want you to meet your new boss, Sir Derek Lupasha,” Mr. Bowa said to the girl. “Derek, this is Ysabelle, the girl I told you about.”

Derek cleared his throat and stretched out his hand to her. “Ysabelle,” he said slowly.

He liked the sound of her name as it rolled off his tongue. He took a moment to take her in. “Nice to meet you.”

Her tiny hand fit perfectly in his large one. The warmth of her soft but slightly calloused skin against his warmed him. He held her hand a little longer than necessary.

“Good morning, sir,” she answered him in a soft voice, as gentle as the evening breeze. Her face shone as she smiled at him. It was the smile of an angel.

At that moment, he knew he was in trouble. If her beauty had not toppled him, her voice had him floored. He mused to himself at the realization that he was smitten with her.

The last time he had been this smitten over a girl was in high school over twenty years ago. He had had it bad for his high school crush.

But as time went on, all the faces of the girls and women he had met and dated had merged into one—until her.

Ysabelle.

Derek felt the fast beating of his heart and the flip-flops in his stomach.

“But there is a little problem,” the voice of the old man cut through his thoughts.

He turned his head to look at the old man while keeping the girl in his side view. She was looking everywhere but at him.

He liked that.

“What problem?”

What could the problem be? he wondered as he turned to look at the girl before him. He hoped it wasn’t that she was underage, because he had every intention of tempting her into doing bad and naughty things.

“You see, Ysabelle is married,” he said.

Derek cocked his head sharply toward the old man, then back at Ysabelle.

“How old are you?” he asked, even though he knew it was rude to ask a lady such a question.

“Twenty-two—I will be twenty-three soon.”

Derek could have sworn she didn’t look a day above eighteen. He turned to look at the old man with a frown.

Just great, he groaned in his mind, he was crushing on a Mrs. Somebody.

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