I Saw You Fell - "Angels Of Bataan"

CHAPTER 2

I ran into Margarita and Giles several times in the succeeding weeks. He looked enthralled. She looked bored. Margarita gave me a longing look whenever we saw each other. It was like she was wondering when I would make my move.

I was planning to. But I'd decided to take a different tack from the rest of the slavering dog pack. Margarita's father was Don Carlos Santos-Marquez, whose ancestors had ensured that the family would never be poor by appropriating a few hundred square miles of fertile land around Mount Natib, above Balanga on the Bataan peninsula. Don Carlos was the patriarch.

That didn't mean the family lived there. On the contrary, Bataan was too rustic for any civilized person's taste. That was why the family home was not far from us in Makati.

I called on Don Carlos at his company's office in Rizal. He took the meeting because he knew my family name. But he didn't know who I was.

Don Carlos was a courtly fifty-one-year-old Spaniard with perfect Latin features and impeccable grooming. It's what you get with ten generations of superior breeding ... all-in-all, an intimidating fellow. He gestured to a chair and said, "How may I help you, Senor?"

I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I met your daughter a couple of weeks ago, and she enchanted me. But I know that I need your permission to court her. Hence, I am calling on you today to ask you for it."

That was pure unadulterated bull feathers. The Don's daughter was probably fucking Giles Pemberton's eyeballs out as we spoke. But he didn't know that - and being an old-fashioned Plantador, he believed the man must always ask the father's permission before wooing the daughter.

My approach had impressed him. He gave me a gracious smile and said, "I appreciate any young person who follows the rules. There are so few of them in your generation. I know that you come from a good family. So, you have my permission. When would you care to visit?"

The first date was always a family affair. It usually involved dinner so the parents could confirm that you were a gentleman. I said, "At your convenience Don Santos-Marquez."

He said, "You may call tonight if that fits your schedule." I said, "Perfect!!" and he nodded in genteel acknowledgment.

Naturally, I wasn't planning to simply show up with a smile on my face and a bottle of wine under my arm. I wore the appropriate dining costume: white linen planter suit with a white silk shirt and club tie. There was a formal introduction to the parents at the entrance. Then I was led in by the butler to take my seat at the family table. That's how things were done back then.

Margarita was sitting with her two younger sisters, carefully sequestered at the far end of the table. That was to ensure against any hanky-panky between the woman and her suitor. I know that sounds ridiculous, given Margarita's real-life adventures. But conventions had to be obeyed, and the parents never really knew.

Margarita looked startled when I walked in. She knew a "gentleman caller" was coming, but she didn't know who. Then her expression changed to one of cunning respect. She knew EXACTLY what I was up to, and she played along like the blushing virgin that she wasn't.

Formal introductions were made. I handed Margarita my card, gloved hand, of course, and gave her sisters a dashing smile as I said, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, girls." They all tittered shyly, while their older sister gave me a surreptitious look that almost made my socks burst into flame.

The dining was delightful, as it always was in the better families in Manila. That evening's main course was a Pancit Guisado that perfectly blended Spanish and Filipino cultures, reminiscent of paella and Tagalog sisig. We ate and drank wine and chatted about the trivialities that ruled life amongst the uber-wealthy. Then Margarita and I were allowed to get to know each other.

It isn't what you're thinking. A duenna was sitting with us - of course. But she was Margarita's old nurse and fabulously hard of hearing. Thus, we could talk in whispers and still obey all the conventions. So, I said earnestly, "I saw you at the Santa Ana, and I had to meet you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

She gave me a secret smile and said, "I was hoping you would ask me out. But this is the cleverest ploy ever. My parents and sisters are infatuated with you."

I said, "So, Giles didn't ask your father's permission?"

She said dismissively, "Giles is a blockhead. But he has his uses. I have a tough time getting nice guys to approach me, so I have to settle for those who are too self-centered to know better."

I said confidently, "Can we meet again?"

She said, "It's what I was hoping. I'll see you tomorrow at the Santa Ana." She stood, extended her hand, and said loudly enough for the nurse to hear, "Thank you for visiting me. You may call on me again next week." Then she gave me a lascivious wink and swept back into the house, with the nurse trailing in her wake.

I was standing beneath the portico of the cabaret when Margarita's taxi pulled up. She was in another one of her red dresses with plenty of succulent cleavage and gorgeous legs on display. She glided up to me, put her hand on the side of my cheek, and said in her husky, seductive voice, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

I would have stood there for as long as necessary to have a moment in time like this. But I had to be a wise-ass or lose my cred. So, I said with implication in my voice, "I can be patient."

What I meant by that remark was clear to both of us. Margarita tapped me lightly on the cheek and said, "It won't be long." Her dark eyes pulled me down a long, slippery slope to a valley of endless carnal delight.

She seized my arm possessively, and we strolled into the club. As we were seated, I glanced over to the other side of the house just to see if Skipper and Vicente were there. But, instead, I locked eyes with a thoroughly pissed-off Giles Pemberton.

He rose from his seat, walked around to the dining side of the room, said something to the Maître d,' and chuffed up to our table, snorting fire. My standing to meet him would give his indignation more status than it deserved. So, I decided to play it cool. I looked at him with bored contempt and said, "Yes??"

He was standing over me threateningly as he said, "I say, old chap. That's bad form trying to steal my girl!!!"

I glanced casually at Margarita and said, "What about it, Margarita? Am I stealing HIS girl?" But of course, I knew what her answer would be. She was NOBODY'S girl.

Pemberton had pissed her off. She slowly turned her head and looked at him as if trying to decide. Pemberton did everything but spread his tail feathers like a peacock. Then she said in a bored voice, "Go away, Giles. I'm with Erik tonight. Get in my date book if you want to go out with me."

I couldn't resist a smirk. I knew I'd made an enemy for life, but what did I care. I was rich. I was with the hottest woman in Manila, and I was going to get my brains fucked out tonight.