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Chapter 9: Language of Red Wine

Ambryan sat with his legs crossed.

The leather couch creased under his weight. He held a glass of red wine. He swirled it with his fingers, eyeing it with a hard expression. The surface gleamed against the white light. He watched the highlights and shadows shift as the wine sloshed inside the glass.

Then, he took a sip.

"Wait" a deep voice spoke from across the room. Wearing a silver coat, a broad back stood behind another couch. Curly bronze hair covered the head and tickled the nape of the neck. Arms moved as the person poured wine into another glass.

"So your mother will set up a dating site where you will choose one woman to date for 9 months?" Turning around with his glass of wine, Richard Kingston sported an amused grin.

"That is hilarious. Aunt Avery must be so desperate."

He propped himself on the couch across from Ambryan. His shoulder stretched and rested on top of the backrest. Mischief twinkled in his steel gray eyes. "Or she must be so done with you. How long do you have before you decide?"

"One week, at most." Ambryan replied, not looking away from his wine. He let himself relax for a moment. He was with a friend, not a business partner. His eyebrows scrunched. "What is funny about it? I had done what she wanted all these years. It's not my fault that she's dissatisfied with the results."

He raised the glass to his lips.

Richard sat speechless. He blinked about three times before his lips remembered how to move.

"Yan, you date women for only a week."

'What mother wouldn't be unhappy?' He asked himself. He didn't even know how many women Ambryan had taken out. It came to the point that the public stopped the theories. Only the media feed on it for scoops.

It surprised him that it lasted this long before Aunt Avery caved. He almost wondered if his friend had done it intentionally. With Yan's mind, anything could be possible. His lack of interest in love had always been a hot topic. His mother once began to question if he preferred males.

Ambryan tilted his head to the side. He finally met Richard's gaze, wearing a confused scowl.

"I had met them, gone out with them, bought them gifts, complimented them... am I missing something to what defines 'dating'?" He asked. He had done research on the process. The women seemed happy enough. Yet, unlike them, his close people disagree with his methods.

Richard shook his head slowly. "I don't know if you're being dumb or merely acting like one. You're missing the point of dating, Yan. The reason why your mother had pushed you to it."

Ambryan remained unfazed. "And what is the point of it?"

"To settle down." His friend gaped. How could a CEO of a production company not know about it? Eros Productions thrived in the romance genre for goodness' sake!

"Marriage?"

"Well, yeah!" Richard exclaimed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience wore thin. Why did it seem like he was talking to a child? He took a deep breath and continued to explain. "You spend time with her and do things. Then, you decide whether you want to spend the rest of your lives together."

'This level of ignorance had to be fake,' Richard thought. He took a big gulp of wine, almost emptying the glass. He had never seen Ambryan curious about romantic love. His friend probably blocked marriage out of his mind. To him, it didn't exist and wouldn't exist in his life.

Thus, his dates usually ended shortly.

"How is that any different from being affiliated without a ring?" Ambryan rebutted. "Unless you're joined by the hip, I think you'd still be spending time apart, living your own lives. You merely meet on the way just like two friends."

Richard tightened his grip on the glass. He willed himself not to fill it back up. If he did so, he'd end up tipsy from this conversation. When he felt confident, he sighed, draining the last bit of wine.

"I know you have no plans to settle down but, as human beings, we love by nature," he began to say. How did a person explain love to someone who rejected it? "We need each other. Those needs vary from person to person that we meet. There are shoes that only a significant partner could fill."

Looking back, Richard knew his friend always kept a distance. He also preferred to keep his circle small. He only spoke to them when necessary. Richard could only hope those various interactions could shed some light on his point.

Ambryan rubbed his chin. His violet eyes glanced up the ceiling. He noticed a flaw in the logic, saying it out loud. "Many are successful even without getting married."

"Yes," Richard sighed again. He put the glass on the coffee table, lacing his fingers. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "It's not for everyone but your mother just wants you to give your 110% on dating one woman. If it doesn't work out or you don't change your mind then, marriage isn't for you."

He offered a small tender smile. "She just wants you to give it a fair shot."

'Effort,' Richard spoke in his mind. Aunt Avery merely wanted his friend to put more effort. Invisible walls had always caged Ambryan whether he was aware of it or not. It wasn't always romantic love that opened one's walls.

It was usually the person inside who did.

By taking a step out, maybe his friend would see something good.

Something that he failed to see from where he stood before.

Ambryan uncrossed his legs. He reached towards the coffee table, pushing a folder to the other side. "Richard, I came here about the investment, not consultation on my love life."

"Right." His friend uttered, bowing his head. The previous topic drew to a close. He took the folder and opened it. "A TV series, you said. Are you sure about it? Your company has produced countless movies for decades. Is it ready to branch on other film projects?"

"There's a director that wants to adapt a novel. He strongly persists that a movie won't be enough to produce its full quality potential." Ambryan answered. He sipped his wine, keeping his eyes on the folder and its documents. "I have heard of this many times in the past but I read the manuscript myself and its accompanying notes. I have to say that I agree with him."

He had never seen a more in-depth composition. Every part of the story contained a purpose. No matter how small or insignificant it seemed. A movie would cut out too much, losing the essence that fuelled the story's flame. The audience wouldn't be entranced by what resided under the surface if it wasn't there.

He saw that same fire in the director.

When joined together, two flames should blaze brighter, not extinguish themselves.

"I highlighted the points for you and summarized the reasons why a series should be produced instead of a movie." Ambryan continued. He watched Richard scowl at the material. He considered it as a good sign. That meant his friend also became engrossed.

"I expect good news in the morning," he declared, rising to his feet. He finished the rest of the wine and placed the glass on the table. His hand snatched his coat from the armrest. He shrugged it on, buttoning the cuffs.

Richard looked up. His steel eyes widened. "You're not staying for dinner?"

Ambryan glanced out the see-through balcony doors. The sun dipped low in the horizon. It colored both the sky and the sea. Warm colors dominated the scenery. Quite a contrast to the black and white study room.

"This is my last stop for the day, Richard." His feet headed for the exit. "Unlike a slacker like you, I still have work to do back home."

Door half-opened, Ambryan glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Do inform me when Venus Investment Associates signs the contract attached to those documents. I'd suggest you comply with the amount. That way you won't need to share the rewards after."

He didn't wait for a reply and left. The only response he'd accept would be heard the next morning. He walked out of the beach house without a problem. Tall green trees filled his vision. He breathed the fresh air. The black paint of his Mercedes-Maybach S650 glistened under the sunset.

He drove it down the barren road, not looking back.

Finally alone, Richard cussed. He slammed the folder close. "What slacker? I also have things to do but, at least, I know when to give my close family and friends some time."

He shook his head and stood up. His legs led him to his work desk. The orange sky illuminated behind him. He tossed the folder. "How did I even survive being friends with this guy?"

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