Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (20 page)

Chapter 9: A Special Appearance

At first, being confined at the condo drove me crazy; I just wasn’t used to staying put. Texting Vince was the only thing that kept me sane. After marathoning DVDs for three straight days, I surrendered my laptop to Mom, who discovered the magic of YouTube—a happy place where she could watch back episodes of her favorite soap operas.

On one particularly boring afternoon, I got a pen and an old notebook, then just scribbled and doodled whatever came to mind. Pretty soon, I was jotting down ideas for a short film.  I was so absorbed in the task that I was surprised when Mom called me to eat.
Dinner already?
I reviewed what I had written—some ideas were junk, but the others were pretty decent. I put the notebook on my desk, eager to continue my work tomorrow.

After two weeks, I had a rough outline of the script. But by that time, I was also finally well enough to return to my normal life.

“Take your vitamins,” said Mom before leaving. Though it was nice to be pampered, it was a relief to reclaim my room again. Perfect timing, too, ‘cause after she left, Vince called.

“Just checking in on the patient,” he quipped.

“The patient has checked out. I’m officially sickness-free!”

“That’s great! How was your day?”

A bit shyly, I told him about my film script.

“Nice. When’s the premiere night?”

“Next month,” I said without missing a beat. “In Cannes. I’ll be strutting down the red carpet with Jeff Javier.”

“What about me?”

“What about you? By then, I’ll be so successful that I’ll be rubbing elbows only with the famously talented! You’ll be nothing but a distant yet pleasant memory.”

At the other end of the line, I heard Vince snort. “Such delusions of grandeur! Know what? Your name should be
Cray-zeh
, not Crissy.”

I gave a sudden start.

In fact, I didn’t know I had zoned out until I heard Vince’s concerned voice.

“Crissy? Still there?’

I gave myself a shake. “Yes! What were you saying?”

“I said I’m going to take your lead, and finally go back to painting. I’ll work on my sketches first thing tomorrow.”

“Go for it!” I enthused.

When I hung up, I stared at the wall for a long time. “Crazy Crissy”—that’s what Benj called me each time I cracked him up. It felt weird hearing the same pun from Vince.

* * * *

The next day, I entered the building and felt a bit like it was my first day ever at work. I needed a moment to acclimatize. After all, this was the longest I had been away from the office. Even during the holidays, I was used to coming here a day after Christmas and New Year’s Day to meet deadlines.

Still lightheaded, I got to my cubicle. A voice dripping with sarcasm piped up, “I suppose we must
thank
you for finally gracing us with your presence.” That was just Leo being his charming self. I turned to him and gave him a hug. “Nice to know that I was missed.”

I started bombarding him with questions. What episode was airing that week? What happened when I was away? Any major issues?

“Well,” Leo began with a sigh, “as expected, Ms. D went ballistic when it finally sunk in that even her most superhuman executive producer could get sick!” He laughed. “But she calmed down when we showed her we could handle the situation.”

“You mean
you
could handle it,” I teased him.

“Oh, it was a collaborative effort.” Leo waved his hand airily. “It even made the team more solid. You know what they say—in difficulty, there is unity and all that jazz.”

My office phone rang just then.

“Can I see you in my office, Crissy?” Ms. D’s voice sounded so smooth and cool, it made me shiver.

“Speaking of the she-devil,” I muttered to Leo, getting up.

* * * *

I knocked and waited for Ms. D’s faint “come in” before going in.

Her petite frame was hunched over her huge wooden desk, making her look like Thumbelina surrounded by giant mushrooms of folders and envelopes. But the biggest mushroom of all was her iMac screen, as pristine as her white button-down silk shirt. Her short bob was always cut precisely in razor-sharp layers, highlighted in three different shades of auburn to, ironically enough, achieve that “natural” look.

While I sat down and waited for her to speak, I surveyed the room as I always did each time I was summoned here. A glass-encased shelf was filled with trophies and laminated certificates of shows she had handled through the years. 

Walls were peppered with theater-size posters of Broadway shows (how did she get them?) she might or might not have seen. I focused on the
Wicked
poster, wondering when I would finally get to see it. I was humming “Defying Gravity” in my head when Ms. D finally spoke.

“So I trust that you’ve completely recovered?” she asked, taking off her Rudy Project frames and peering at me closely. How old was this woman? Up close, she couldn’t possibly be more than forty, though she acted much,
much
older. 

“Yes, I am,” I replied, mimicking her serious tone, hoping that this would get me off the hook more easily.

“When you were gone, I didn’t think Leo could pull it off, but he did,” she said grudgingly. “I was afraid I would have to take over, but thankfully, I didn’t have to.”

She pointed her eyeglasses at me. “But even if he’s proven that he can be relied on, the show is crippled without your creative input, Crissy. You’ve always had a wonderful flair for storytelling.”

Before I had time to feel flattered by this rare compliment, Ms. D’s tone changed as she frowned on a piece of a paper. “I was hoping that we wouldn’t have to worry about you disappearing on us again, but I just found out from HR that you’re taking a vacation in a few weeks!” 

She looked up, and there it was again, her famous accusing look, her mouth set in a straight line. “And just
why
are you taking a break in the middle of summer?”

Um, because it’s summer? I wanted to retort. Because I wanted to take my vacation when the sun’s actually bright and shining?

In the past, I had dutifully postponed my summer vacation because we were always busy conceptualizing special episodes to draw in more viewers, so advertisers would place more ads. And blame it on bad luck, but my leaves would always coincide with some typhoon wreaking havoc in the metro. I’d end up spending my vacation indoors, stuffing myself silly while watching DVDs.

Instead I replied, “I’m sorry, Ms. D. I’ve never actually taken a vacation during summer before, and I thought I would finally do it this year. I’ve filed that vacation leave months ago, and I’ve already paid for my plane tickets.”

“Aah,” Ms. D said—cryptically, if I might add. Her expression was completely unreadable. “Well, of course, the decision rests entirely in your hands. But as one of the more senior employees, I expected better from you. You might want to keep this in mind if you want to have a real career in this industry.”

I sat stock-still. Was that a threat?

As I returned to my cubicle, I couldn’t help thinking that the D could also stand for “deceitful.”

* * * *

“What a
douche
!” shrieked Bea over the phone—yet another adjective perfect for Ms. D.  

Before I could answer, her voice went a pitch higher. “You’re not flaking out, are you? Because we’re good to go—the tickets, the resort, for which,
by the way
, I had to fight off my cousins because they wanted to stay there on the same dates we reserved.”

I cut in. “Of course I’m going! Anyway, I’ll just be missing a few days of work.”

“That’s right.” I could picture Bea vigorously bobbing her head in agreement.

“Although she
did
hint that it was career suicide to take this vacation,” I said slowly.

“Hah! I knew it!” Bea retorted. “You’re having second thoughts!”

“Bei, you know how much I’ve invested in this job. If I’m promoted to production manager, my salary would double—no, triple! Imagine that!”

Bea sighed. “Do you realize that, in these past few months, we’ve spent more time with each than we ever did in the last couple of years?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“This is all I’m asking from you—a few days of your summer!” Her tone got serious. “Just tell me what you want, right here, right now. What does your heart
truly
say? Do you want to go to Bora—or let yourself be bullied by your boss?”

I was silent for about five seconds. I sighed. “When you put it that way, of course I choose Bora!”

A call-waiting beep prompted me to end my talk with Bea, who promised—no,
swore
— that I wouldn’t be regretting my decision.

“Hello?”

“Ma’am Crissy? There’s someone at the lobby to see you.” The receptionist hesitated. “He says his name is Jeff Javier.”

Jeff Javier,
the
actor? What gives? “I’ll be right down.”

When I got to the lobby, I scanned the area for the actor’s towering height.

“Delivery for you, Miss.”

I whirled around and saw him, all smiles, envelope in hand.

“Vince!”

“Vince? Vince who?” He pretended to look around. “I’m Jeff Javier! I’ve come to take you to Cannes!” He popped up his shirt collar and gave his best model pout. We both cracked up.

“I know you’re busy catching up with work, so I decided to drop by and give this to you.”

I opened the envelope and saw the check for my consigned items. “Thanks! You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, handing me a brown bag. “I also wanted to give you this—something to keep your energy up.”

The smell of fresh tomato, cheese, and basil wafted when I opened the bag. “Mmm . . . I
have
been craving for pasta. This is perfect. Thanks, Vince!”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and,
oh my gosh,
was that a blush creeping up his neck? He looked at the floor and said suddenly, “Oh. Nice shoes.”

I was wearing a pair of white flats printed with dainty red roses—something I had dug out of my closet, forgotten for years. “Thank you.”

I entered the elevator, smiling to myself, pressing the warm paper bag to my chest. There was something else to rejoice about—what was it?

I reached my cubicle before I realized what it was.

Leo’s words came back to me now: “You know a guy really likes you if he compliments your shoes.”

Chapter 10: Kissing Scene

And because part of me still wanted that promotion, I worked my butt off the weeks before leaving for Boracay. 

Well, okay, some of it was just for show.

There were days when I had already finished work and I could’ve just left early, but when Ms. D worked overtime, I made it a point to stay behind, making sure that I was in plain view through her office glass walls.

Sadly it was one of those nights when Vince texted, asking me if I wanted to go catch a movie. I turned him down, not only because Ms. D was still in the office but also because I still had tons of stuff to do.

Then for the first time ever, he called me at work, and we had a nice, longish chat. I told him about my upcoming Bora trip, and (in a lower voice) how Ms. D wasn’t too pleased about it.

“I’m not happy about it either,” he said in a serious tone.

“Why? Because you’ll be missing me like crazy?” I joked.

“Exactly.”

I fell silent.

Just then I heard Ms. D’s door open and the unmistakable clacking of her Gucci pumps. I cleared my throat and blurted, “Of course. I’ll get back to you on that.”

After a quick pause, Vince said slowly. “Oh, she’s there now, isn’t she?”

“Pardon?” I said.

“The famous Ms. D herself. You’re passing this off as a business call.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, if you’re still up for coffee, just text me, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

“Will do, sir.”

* * * *

By the time I finished work, it was already past midnight. Vince passed by with his Kombi, and we scouted around for a still-open café.

After he’d taken a sip of his coffee, Vince stretched out his legs. “I really want to drop you guys off at the airport, but Wednesday is errands day with Dad.”

“No biggie. We’re fine taking a cab.” I said, then blew repeatedly on my coffee. I looked up to see Vince smiling at me. “What?”

He laughed. “What’s the point of ordering hot coffee when you’re blowing away all the heat?”

I made a face at him. “What about you? You put so much sugar and cream in your coffee that you might as well have ordered dessert.”

Soon, we were taking potshots at each other—everything from his tendency to snort when laughing, to my nostrils flaring when I get all riled up—the list was endless. We dissolved into an endless fit of giggles until we both agreed to call it a night.

When we finally reached the condo, Vince got out to open my door. “Do you want to go up for coffee?” My mouth had gone on autopilot again and blurted the first thing it thought of. He already had coffee, you idiot.

“I think I’ve had enough for today.” He grinned. “But even without coffee, something has been keeping me up these days.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it isn’t anything like that.” He laughed awkwardly. Then his face turned serious. “Actually,
someone
has been keeping me awake.

He brought his face closer to mine. I closed my eyes then caught the scent of his cologne.

Oh my god. Without warning, I stepped back and stumbled. Vince grabbed my shoulders, and after tipping precariously from left to right, front to back to regain our balance, I felt something hit my nose—hard.

“Ouch!”

“Shit! Are you okay?” Vince was rubbing his forehead.

My nose felt like it had been punched by Manny Pacquiao, but the pain was nothing compared to humiliation.

“Is it bleeding? Let me see.” He gently pried off my hand.

“I’m okay.”

“No, really. Let me take a look.”

Tears were stinging my eyes. “I said I’m okay, OKAY?” My voice echoed in the empty parking lot.

Hearbeats passed. No one spoke.

Vince took a couple of steps back. I recognized his game face, the same expression he had on back at the rummage sale. It hurt to look at it. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right,” he said

Something’s wrong with me. Seriously wrong.

“It’s just that . . . I mean . . . it’s not . . .” I blabbered helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” Vince said. “I think you should go rest now. It’s been a long day.

He started walking away. Without a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed his arm.

“Please,” I whispered, “let’s talk.”

I led him to a nearby bench, not letting go until he sat down.

I took a deep breath, wondering how I could explain. I wanted so badly for Vince to understand.

“My last relationship was five years ago.” The words tumbled out effortlessly, like I was narrating someone else’s past. I told him how, from day one, I was convinced that Benj was “the one.” How he had promised me that we would get married as soon as he got settled in the States. How totally unprepared I was when he told me that we have broken up, that he had found someone new.

“I guess I’m just one of those people who don’t heal easily.” I was kneading my palms. “When you leaned over to kiss me, I smelled his cologne, and I just freaked out.”

Vince didn’t say anything for a while. Then he cleared his throat and said softly, “In my case, it was Anna.”

He told me about his longtime girlfriend and how she had gotten pregnant—by another guy. He told me how angry he was. But later on, when he found out that the guy had abandoned Anna, he realized that he still cared for her.

“I had always planned on marrying her,” he confessed. “And I was willing to raise the child as my own.” But after proposing to her, she had turned him down, saying she wasn’t in love with him anymore.

“That was just the ultimate rejection, I suppose.” Vince’s attempt at a smile came out as a half grimace. “She could have had someone to lean on—but since she didn’t love me anymore . . .” He shrugged.

There was just too much pain in this world.
Too much
. I wanted to touch his face, to smoothen out the lines on his forehead.

“But after almost two years, I can finally say that I’m over her.” He turned to me. “I knew that when I found myself thinking about you all the time.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Before I could react, Vince quickly laced his fingers through mine and held up both our hands, rocking them back and forth like two people slow dancing. “Is this okay with you? Do you feel like pulling back your hand?” His grin grew impish. “Do you feel like slapping me in the face?”

“Yes, I do!” We both laughed as I tried slapping him with our joined hands.

“Seriously, Crissy,” he said when we both settled down, “I like you.”

I sighed in reply.

“There are no guarantees in relationships. I should know.” He smiled wryly. “But that’s no excuse for people to give up on them. Sure we’ve both been wounded, but that’s life. Life is full of good things and bad. Sometimes the best thing that you can do is to take a chance on something and hope it will turn out good.”

It took a while before I was able to reply. “I know. I know this. My heart knows this,” I said. “It’s just that my mind needs a bit more convincing.”

“I won’t pressure you. But I wish you could give it a shot.” He squeezed my hand. “I know it’s a leap of faith, but if it’s any consolation, we’ll be doing it together. Who knows? Maybe we’ll make it to the other side.”

I pondered this for a while.

“Does it still hurt?”

I realized that I was gingerly feeling my nose. “A little.”

“You know, my mom knew how to make the boo-boos go away.”

“How?”

Vince leaned closer, and by then, I knew what he was going to do. This time, I didn’t flinch. Instead, I closed my eyes.

The kiss on my nose was as gentle as a whisper.