Page 68 of Well, That Was Unexpected

Fauzi returns, looking visibly more panicky than before. “I seem to be having some difficulty getting hold of Rina, but please don’t worry, everything is going as planned.”

Eighth Aunt turns her laser gaze back on him just for a moment, and in that single look, the displeasure is so obvious on her face that we all shrink back. Then, without taking her eyes off Fauzi, she says to one of her personal assistants, “Find her.” One assistant peels off from the entourage.

“Is this normal?” I whisper to George.

He shrugs. “Sort of? We like to err on the side of caution.”

“And we do not trust reporters,” Eighth Aunt says, making both of us jump. God, she really doesn’t miss anything. “Especially ones who say they have a surprise for us. Surprises are rarely good, my dears, unless we are the ones who set them.” She winks at me and I catch a glimpse of the woman I had seen with Mama. It’s impossible not to like Eighth Aunt; she is magnificent with her many roles—businesswoman, know-it-all auntie, and now a…girlfriend? To Mama. I wish I could sit down with her and talk about everything. Everything I’ve ever wanted to know about Mama.

The MC is getting the audience hyped up about some lucky draw. There is a huge cheer and the sound of trumpets blaring, and he reveals the grand prize for the night: a McLaren 570G. My eyes widen. I don’t know anything about the particular number, but even I know that a McLaren is expensive as hell.

“Can I enter the lucky draw?” I say.

Eighth Aunt laughs. Fauzi leans over and says, “Okay, three minutes until you’re up, George. You’ve got your speech ready?”

George nods, looking markedly paler than usual. I squeeze his hand again and he shoots me a grateful look. “Uh, actually, can I have a moment with Shar?” he says.

The others nod and walk a few paces away, giving us a tiny bit of privacy. I turn to face George, clasping both his hands in mine. “You’re going to be great. I know it.” I mean, I don’t actually know that he’s going to be great; if it were me, I would most definitely freak out and tank the entire thing, but I think it’s what you’re supposed to say to someone before they go onstage in front of a live audience.

“Yeah?” he squeaks. Oh my god, it’s too adorable.

I stand up on tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Yeah. You’ve got this.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs.

The look he gives me melts me all the way to my toes, and god, how is it possible to like this boy so much when I’ve only just gotten to know him? Seeing him feels springtime, my whole being waking up after a long hibernation. I like him so, so much, without any restraint, without any cynicism, and I’m so invested in this, in everything about George, including this app that he’s so obviously into. I clap loudly as he walks onstage and will him to do well with all of my being.

Music blares, the spotlights swing, and suddenly, I find myself in the center of the stage. My mind is a complete mess, my thoughts scrambling over themselves. Has the stage always been this huge? It feels endless. I could’ve sworn it was a lot smaller when we had the rehearsal this afternoon. I glance at the audience and nearly freeze. My god, there’re so many people here. And even more watching online. There are two, three, no, four giant cameras aimed at me, their lenses capturing my every moment, swallowing me whole to be spat out at viewers across the whole country.

This is fine, I’m totally fine. I’m okay. I can do this. I’m a Tanuwijaya, this is what we do. Most of my older cousins have had to do this at some point in their lives and they’ve all done great, even Nicoletta. I can’t be the first Tanuwijaya to fail the clan. I shove everything Sharlot-related out of my mind and focus on the present. Smile. Remember to smile. Right. I plaster on a grin, which feels more like a grimace, as I shake the MC’s hand.

“George, how are you tonight?” he booms.

I turn to face the audience and spread my arms out, as rehearsed, before saying, “I’m feeling great, Yohannes. Good evening, everyone!”

Cheers and whistles ring out from the audience, and my stomach unknots a little. I’m not exactly in my element, but I’ve been trained endlessly for events like tonight. Haven’t I spent years being coached on how to behave at business meetings, at public events, at both friendly and heated negotiations? As the MC says some more things about me and OneLiner, I take the chance to inhale slowly and find my grounding. I run through my lines mentally and am relieved to find that I can still remember them. This evening’s going to be a breeze. Okay, it isn’t, but it’s not going to be a disaster, at least. Phew.

The audience claps appreciatively. I give the signal for the huge screen behind me to light up with my presentation. The screen comes to life, and the sight of the beautiful, sleek app that I’ve spent the last year or so helping to coax to fruition soothes my nerves. My spine straightens. The MC hands the stage to me and I launch into my speech without hesitation, the words tumbling out of my mouth as rehearsed.

“I’m so honored to be able to stand before all of you and present OneLiner. This application means everything to me, because for too long there’s been a lot of…let’s say, less-than-stellar behavior from boys my age. All around the world, the way we treat girls needs to be improved.”

I think of the past few days with Sharlot. How they’ve flown by, simply because I spent them with her. How complicated and smart and sharp she is, and how it feels when I finally manage toget her to laugh. I wonder what she’ll think of the app. I don’t know why I haven’t shown it to her. I guess like everything else I’ve done in my life, I feel self-conscious about it and assume the worst. But I want Sharlot to approve of it.

“One of the most important ways that OneLiner will help is through communication. We want to encourage parents to talk to their sons, not just place the focus on telling daughters how to behave.” I glance up at the screen, avoiding looking out at the audience because it’ll definitely throw me off, and the sight of the familiar slides gives me more confidence. “The responsibility lies on us boys, and educating ourselves is the first step forward. For so long, we have shirked our responsibility by giving excuses like ‘Boys will be boys’ when we behave badly. OneLiner is going to tackle these harmful mentalities by showing the logical fallacy behind them and how they affect everyone.” As I continue my presentation, going into the statistics and the long-term effects of toxic masculinity, I can see that the audience is absorbed, and I can’t believe that my message is being listened to without interruption. Without anyone telling me that this is just a publicity stunt. I think I might actually be making a difference.

I try to look for Sharlot in the wings but can’t see much, what with all these spotlights glaring down on me. Regardless, I can’t stop grinning as I walk them through each facet of the app, as though I’m a little kid showing Papa my art project. In the front row, Papa and Eleanor are clapping and beaming so hard at me that I get a little teary-eyed. Here it is, over a year of hard work from the family, the tech team, our employees, all to bring this to life. It’s a surreal feeling, getting to present it to the public. Iunderstand now why so many of my cousins so passionately dive into the family business once they finish college. It’s in this moment that I know for sure, I want to go into the family business too. Maybe not in the way that Papa expected. I don’t want to just be on the board, to just see the company as nothing more than moving numbers. I want to dive into the nitty-gritty of it, to create new products that will actually make a difference, if not in the world, then at least in my own country. Too soon, the presentation is done, and on cue, the stage fireworks go off. The audience oohs and aahs, and the MC bounds back onstage, congratulating me and shaking my hand with obvious relief. Oh my god, I did it. My head is buzzing—hell, my entire body is buzzing. I feel both energized and noodly with relief. Dimly, I sense Eleanor running up to the stage and throwing her arms around me, shouting, “gege, you did it!” The audience is clapping hard, and from the wings, Eighth Aunt is clapping and nodding with a look of pride. I could so get used to this. Why had I dreaded it so much? Why was I always so sure that I’d fail the company and disappoint my family?

Sharlot rushes onstage as well, and god, it feels so good to see her right now. She’s such a huge part of this clarity I feel, and I’m so glad that I have her next to me. I stride toward her and in front of everyone, I hug her tight. There’s a huge “Aww” from the audience, and Sharlot and I break apart, our faces on fire, but we’re both smiling and everything is perfect.

Then someone says something into the mic. It takes a moment for me to notice it; in fact, I only notice when the noise around me suddenly recedes. I turn and see Rina on the otherside of the stage, her cameraman standing next to her with his camera aimed and ready.

“Excuse me,” she says with a smile. “I’m Rina fromAsian Wealth,and I’d like to applaud George for such a wonderful presentation.”

Eighth Aunt and Papa are looking at Rina with puzzled expressions on their faces. Well, Papa looks puzzled. Eighth Aunt is frowning, obviously displeased.

“I’d like to follow up with a presentation of my own.” She nods to someone backstage, and the screen behind her changes from the final slide in the OneLiner presentation to a collage of photos. I blink, all thoughts inside my head scrambled and confused. Because the photos are of Sharlot…and some blond guy.

“Oh my god,” Sharlot gasps next to me.

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