The Escort

Chapter Thirteen

A KNOCK ON the door disrupts me from my paperwork. My secretary is bringing a box, and a bouquet of flowers, which makes me raise my eyebrow. Who is sending me a package in the middle of the day?

            “Please put it on the couch,” I tell her.

            “You also have a meeting with a Mr Dessner at three o’clock p.m.,” she reminds before she leaves my office.

            To be honest, my mood has improved since my proposition with John to become friends. I keep replaying the scene over and over in my head, especially when John told me he thinks I’m cute. Gaaah! I almost let out a giggle, or maybe a sigh of frustration. He has been occupying my mind a lot lately. Though my work is still highly prioritised, whenever I am on breaks or during my free time, he never not crosses my mind. It is quite a problem.

            I have never felt this way before, that feeling that your chest contracts but in a good way, whenever you think of a person. I have felt this in high school, when the school heartthrob has asked me to help his homework.

            Am I… am I having a small crush on him? On my paid escort? On my fake boyfriend? This is ridiculous. He is way younger than me, and he won’t want to set his eyes on a woman who is already almost in her thirties. I wonder what it feels like when I finally hit thirty. Will I magically change when the clock strikes at midnight on my thirtieth birthday? And besides, John still has a lot of dreams to pursue at his young age. It’s not like he’s ten years younger than me, it’s just that at his age I have always desired for a lot of things in life, and one of them is my freedom.

            I take the package my secretary has left for me. The bouquet of flowers smells good, the sunflowers beautifully radiant at such a rainy day. A note is sticked on the bouquet, and it says, “Your smile shines like these radiant sunflowers with the redness of your lips like these strawberries. I handpicked them in Baguio, myself. Robert.”

            My mouth parts slightly at the package, and when I open them, the fresh strawberries are dipped in chocolate, and are resting inside a plastic container. When did Robert even plan to go to Baguio City? Moreover, how did even have the time to pick fresh strawberries? This flirtatious gesture he has done, however, has not melted my heart, not even once. I know he is trying to charm his way to me, but I see through all of his actions. I like the thoughtfulness of his gift. I like strawberries, and I can’t wait to eat them. I take a bite with the chocolate coating it, and let out a soft moan at the delicateness of the taste.

            I receive a text from my phone and it’s Robert, asking me what I think of his unexpected package. I call him instead of replying. “Hey,” he greets, “why’d you call me?”

            “Texting is such a chore. And I like your package. How did you even manage to go to Baguio with such a tight schedule?” I reply.

            I can hear him chuckle at the other end of the line. “I went to Baguio last weekend, and I have this motto that I should never work on weekends.”

            I roll my eyes, as if he can see me do it. “I’m sorry if I don’t own an empire of businesses. I’m just here doing my job that my parents passed on to me,” I sarcastically reply.

            “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our different approaches on how to run a company,” he soothes. He’s right. My frustrations are getting the best of me, perhaps.

            “I know,” I say. “It’s just frustrating when you’ve been trained since you were a kid with the company’s books and not allowed to be an actual kid.”

            I don’t know what Robert thinks or feels when I said that, but I wonder if he shares the same sentiments as I do. When he replies, his voice is laced with sadness and empathy. “I know how that feels. I actually ran away when I was thirteen.” He sounds timid, as if that experience is a shameful part of his life.

            “Why did you run away?” My eyes glance at the time. My lunch break is almost over.

            “The pressure is too much for me,” he admits. “I wasn’t supposed to run the company but my older brother, Joseph, got… in an accident…” His voice sounds like he is about to cry.

            So, Robert isn’t supposedly my fiancé, but his older brother Joseph.

            “I’m sorry. For what happened to your brother.”

            “It’s no one’s fault but his.” I imagine him shrugging his shoulders like he can’t care less about his brother. “He was a rebellious person. After the accident, he wasn’t allowed to run the company anymore. He almost killed someone with his recklessness. He begged for papa for forgiveness. Until now, Joseph and I haven’t spoken. And neither does papa and him. Mama, on the other hand, she would occasionally have conversations with him.”

            I don’t know how to take in the information Robert has spilled. I thought his brother died, because of the way he describes it, but I guess his brother might as well have because he has been banished from his family.

            “Oh, wow, that’s a lot to take in Robert. Do you sometimes still wish that Joseph is running the company instead?”

            “Sometimes, but I’ve learned to get used to it.” Just like how I have gotten used to it since I was seven years old, when my parents handed me books about business. Merely forming a conscious, barely understanding what the world is about. “But I wouldn’t have met you if it didn’t happen.” He interrupts the thought my head is occupying.

            “You’re such a flirt,” I laugh.

            “No, no, no,” he insists, his voice strong, “I mean it. You are a wonderful person. Well, I don’t know a lot about you but I do know you are a wonderful person.”

            If he only knows how much of a liar I am. That I only hired someone to be my boyfriend, so that I can’t marry him, even for the meantime. I need to find a way to read the contract, to find any loopholes that can keep me from marrying him. I don’t want to get married, for the sake of duty. I want to be in a healthy marriage with someone who loves and cares for me. Can Robert do that for me, if it ever happens?

            “Thanks… I guess,” I reply shyly. “But I can say you’re such a flirt.”

            He laughs heartily. “Your honesty is refreshing that it catches me off guard.”

            “What can I say? I’m not here to impress you.”

            “Yet I’m very well impressed.”

            “Is the Robert Go harbouring some feelings for me?” I tease, my mouth wide from smiling. My cheeks are probably going numb. I have never thought Robert will be quite a nice and soft person, because I have always imagined him to be stoic and cold.

            He snorts. “No. But I consider you to be a great friend.”

            “Hey, I’m just messing with you.”

            “And here I am thinking that you are such a cold-hearted person.”

            “Me? Cold-hearted? I thought you were the cold-hearted one.”

            He chuckles, incredulous. “When did I ever present myself as cold? I have always been charming around everyone.”

            “When we first met, I thought you were. But I guess I was wrong. I just disliked you because we were arranged to be engaged… especially without my knowledge.”

            “I understand. I’m sorry we’re both in this mess our parents created.”

JOHN WAITS AT the lobby. He smells like the air-condition of a mall, but his body is drenched in cheap cologne. He wears a teal polo shirt and a pair of jeans, with a small belt bag hanging on his hips. It is a surprise to see his presence here, and I wonder how he has known where my office is located.

            “Janet told me,” he answers when I ask him that question. Sometimes, Janet meddles so much with my personal life. I don’t know if I should thank her, but most of the time I want to strangle her. It gets irritable.

            “Did you ask her?” He walks beside me while we head to the parking lot. He scratches his head sheepishly and nods. Not Janet’s fault, entirely.

            “Why are you here, by the way?” Today I have decided to let my driver go home to his province with his full salary and a twenty percent raise, so I get in the driver’s seat. His eyes widened with the salary raise, and he has thanked me with too much gratefulness. My driver’s actions have shocked me.

            “Get in,” I order him when he hasn’t sat inside my car. “In the shotgun seat.”

            “Oh.” His sheepishness has been amplified ever since we have decided to become friends. It’s so weird, to even declare if we will be friends or not. Most friendships are unwritten agreements from two friends who have created a sacred bond.

            I rev the engine and speed away to the highway. “So why are you here?” I ask him again, when he hasn’t answered my question yet.

            “I want to just have a coffee chat with you I guess.” He looks at the buildings lining the streets, as if his mind is in a distant land, far away from the busy city.

            “We can, if you want. I think it will be a nice break from facing the computer, and some investors all day.” A small smile flits on my mouth, searing it on my lips.

            “Do you think it’s weird?” he asks, his eyes staring at my side profile. “That we’re just randomly talking at a coffee shop?”

            “No, it isn’t. It’s what friends normally do. Besides, it will be nice to get to know you. I think it will be ridiculous if I know nothing about you.”

            He heaves a sigh. “Just don’t overthink it,” I assure him and I see his shoulders lift the tension he has been carrying since I saw him.

            “I guess I have been overthinking. I just don’t want you to see me as someone who just wants to get close to you because you have money.”

            “Why would you think that? Besides, I am paying you very well and you have no reason to get close to me because of I’m rich.”

            “Filthy rich,” he corrects in a teasing tone. He can say that. “I don’t know why I thought of that but when you asked me where I was taking you, after I escorted you out of your birthday party venue, I felt dirty about myself. I had no intentions of kidnapping you.”

            The blood drains from my face. I’m the one who should be sorry for assuming such things about him. “It was my fault for assuming that way about you. I’m really sorry. I am such a horrible person for even thinking that way about you, when you have been nothing but honest with what you are doing in life.”

            He does not reply but he goes silent, his head turning to back to the bustling activities in the city. When we arrive at Starbucks, I turn off the engine. We have had a long drive, from my company building, and that’s because I want to drink coffee and have a chat with him at a secluded Starbucks place, though most of the times it can be crowded with people.

            We step out of the car, the cold breeze whooshing our skin. The elevation of the mountain makes the place feel so cold and homey, and a warm cup of coffee is best for this climate. John trails behind me like a lost puppy. I tell him to leave his belt bag but bring his phone, since I promise him I’ll pay for his coffee.

            “Shouldn’t I pay for our coffees?” he asks like a mindless innocent boy.

            “Don’t worry about spending your money. Wasting it for things like expensive coffee will make a huge dent on your salary or savings. You’ve mentioned on your resumé that you’re helping your mother and that’s what you should focus your money on.”

            He looks stunned with my words and he fumbles when he says thank you. “It’s nothing,” and it is true.

            The barista welcomes us with a smile on his face. He has black cap on, and a black apron hugging his figure. He taps on the monitor screen. “Can I ask for your order, madam?”

            “One Java Chip Frappuccino please, and in venti size.” The barista, whose name is Nick, punches the details on the monitor. “That will be two hundred five pesos. Anything else?”

            I turn to John, his eyes widening at the menu board behind the barista. “Can I get a green tea latte, and in venti?” He hesitatingly asks me. I just shrug my shoulders, gesturing him it’s fine to get whatever he wants.

            “That will be one hundred ninety-five pesos for the latte, and the total will be four hundred pesos,” Nick announces, giving me an amiable smile. He looks cute with the short bun on his head.

            I fish out my card. “Can you get us a table?” I ask John. He’s already gone and when the barista gives me the receipt, I look at the back of the receipt with his number scribbled on it. His expressions seem neutral when he says that my orders are going to be served at the receiving counter.

            John has chosen a secluded spot where the view can perfectly be seen. The trees gives me the calm I haven’t had because of work. I place our orders on the table. John almost chokes at the green tea latte which makes me laugh a little.

            “I thought you’ve tasted that drink that’s why you chose it?” I ask smilingly.

            “Actually this is my first time.” He smiles back. My stomach turns into a knot, and it feels like butterflies fluttering. More like elephants rampaging inside. Maybe it’s nigh time to acknowledge what I feel. Maybe I like John. But how have I even liked him? We have barely spoken. Maybe I’m drawn to the mystery he wraps himself around.

            “Really? Green tea latte is like matcha with coffee and milk, and personally, matcha tastes like grass.”

            “It really is, but I think the taste is manageable in the long run. Can I take a sip of your frappe?”

            “Sure, but we will be indirectly kissing if you use my straw.”

            “The question is, would you mind me indirectly kissing you?” He wags his brows, his eyes filled with mischief.

            My cheeks redden. Now isn’t the right time to flirt him, given that I may have a small crush on him. I need to get rid of this feeling as soon as possible. When he flirts back it’s like my world is exploding. My chest is exploding.

            “You need to get a straw. Friends don’t kiss.” I roll my eyes to add some dramatic effect.

            He comes back with a straw, and he sips my drink. “Wow, this is delicious.”

            “This is the first Starbucks drink I’ve had.”

            “And I take this is your favourite?”

            “Yes.” This drink has brought me so many pleasant memories. This drink brings back to the first time pa has ever been warm to me, has ever smiled to me with such kindness in his eyes. That day has been such a bad one for me, and when pa sees me feeling down, he says he will take me to Starbucks. It is my first time to go to a coffee shop. I haven’t been allowed to go out much, except for school. So when my dad has taken me out for coffee, it has been one of the fondest memories I have of him, because when he has bought me that java chip frappe, that is the closest I have ever been with him. He has told me some of the happy memories he has growing up, and it’s like opening himself to me, unfolding the chapters one by one.

            And even though when he has brought me back home and has become cold and strict towards me again, I will still never forget how he has been such a father to me, for the very first time.