Chapter 6: Chapter 6: To Fall Is Not To Fail
Sinacore POV.
“What are you doing here?”
My blood started boiling the moment I saw her face, standing in front of me after turning my life upside down. She was the reason my life had turned into a cesspool of allegations and insinuations, the subject of filthy gossip and defamation. My reputation lay in ruins and my career was mired in ignominy.
And she had now followed me to the academy, too.
“You have followed me here as well?” I blurted out in rage. “You won’t give up, will you? Haven’t you caused enough damage already? What is it that you want?”
I felt a storm of fury building inside me. Brad had a name for it: Hurricane Sinacore. A state of extreme rage that would burn inside me when provoked. Brad taught me how to channel it on the tennis court and use it to sharpen my game and demolish my opponent.
This time I was not on a tennis court, though. And the subject of my rage spoke politely and respectfully.
“I don’t want anything from you,” she replied, her grip on the trash bag tightening. “Trust me, I have not followed you here. I am here because I have just taken up a job at the club.”
“Wish I could believe you.” I lowered my voice. “You have upended my life for no fault of mine. What have I done to you to deserve this?”
“I am not after your money,” she responded politely. “Believe me or not, I never did what I did for money. I don’t want a cent from you, Sinacore. I just want to move on.”
“Move on? What does that even mean?” I sneered. “You appeared out of nowhere, got me stoned on God-knows-what, slept with me when I had passed out, had me humiliated in the media and press, and now you dare to accost me to this academy. What kind of ‘moving on’ is this?”
“Please lower your voice,” she said, her voice rising to meet mine. “And stop accusing me. I didn't spike your drink. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. Those two pals of yours, they spiked your drink, and took you to that hotel.”
“Even if that were true, what were you doing there? Why were you in my hotel room?” I asked in disdain.
“I was not in your room,” she replied a bit forcefully this time. “You were in mine.”
That shut me up for a second. I wasn’t sure whose room I found myself in when I came to my senses that morning, but that was hardly the issue.
“The room is not the issue. How I ended up there and what you were doing there is,” I remarked angrily. This woman sure knew how to get on my nerves. “Why were you even there?”
Before she could provide me with a satisfactory response, someone interrupted our conversation. A bubbly, chirpy, overenthusiastic woman named Rebecca. With a mop of curly brown hair and big wide eyes, a bundle of energy and impulsive outbursts, and an outgoing personality that bordered on the intrusive, Rebecca was my biggest fan and admirer in the academy.
She was also the club owner’s daughter, and somewhat of a spoilt brat.
She must have overheard our argument, and could not resist the temptation of intervening without an invitation. Rebecca had a knack for barging her way into a conversation uninvited.
“Hi, Sin! What’s up?” She grinned from ear to ear as she always did. “Who’s this?” She pointed at the cleaning woman.
“I’m Cynthia,” the cleaning lady replied, blinking slowly. “I joined today.”
Finally! Now I know her name. Cynthia.
Brad will be pleased.
“And what were you two arguing about?” Rebecca asked Cynthia with a frown.
“Argument? What argument?” I intervened, pretending to be ignorant.
“C’mon! I could hear you two arguing from the locker room. That’s why I came running.” She smiled and grabbed my arm. “Is everything all right? Is she bothering you?”
I stole a glance at Cynthia. She was feeling distinctly uncomfortable with Rebecca’s sudden arrival and intrusive questioning. I realized it would be better to get rid of Rebecca first before I resumed my discussion with her.
“No. Nobody is bothering me,” I replied mockingly. “Except you, perhaps.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes and rubbed her chest against my arm. “That’s my birthright, isn’t it? Who else am I supposed to bother if not my Sin!”
Rebecca was clingy as usual and flirty. But worse, she was doing all this on purpose. She was staring directly at Cynthia while rubbing herself against me.
She had a wicked grin on her face as well.
“Have I seen you somewhere?” her next probing query was aimed at Cynthia. “Aren’t you that hooker from TV? Oh my God! It’s you! You are the one Sin was spotted with that leaving that seedy hotel.”
Rebecca’s motormouth forced both me and Cynthia into an awkward silence. She sure knew how to deliberately push someone’s buttons.
“Nope,” I replied softly. “Why don’t you let me handle it? Could you please give us a moment?”
“But Sin,” Rebecca chuckled wickedly. “She shouldn’t be here. What is she doing here? Is she stalking you? Oh my God!” She hastened to add, “Do I need to call security? Wait, let me call someone.”
I looked at Cynthia who maintained a stoic silence, and quietly made her way to the exit with that giant bag of trash.
“Rebecca, could you please excuse me for a moment?” I remarked. I had unfinished business with Cynthia and she was leaving the scene.
“Only if you promise to come for dinner tonight.” She grabbed my arm with both hands.
I was allergic to clingy women, invasive questions that bordered on interrogation, and snide remarks about working-class people. My parents were working-class individuals, they taught me the dignity of labor and how to respect it.
Something which, I was sure, Rebecca was oblivious about.
I tried to break free of her clutches. I wanted to catch up with Cynthia. I wanted to find out more about her motives. But Rebecca wouldn’t let me.
“Dinner tonight?” she pestered me again. I couldn’t say yes, because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t decline either.
“I understand all you are going through,” Rebecca’s tone suddenly turned sympathetic. “Those press guys are like vultures, they prey on others' weaknesses. Don’t let them pull you down.”
How considerate of her.
“My dad could help you, you know,” she continued with her unsolicited advice. “He has excellent contacts in the media. He could make all this go away. I think you should have a word with him tonight after dinner.”
Dinner again…God! Rebecca was like the IRS, never to let go of an opportunity to corner someone and have their way.
“Not tonight, sorry.” I shook my arm free in irritation. “Maybe some other time. I need to be somewhere now. I’ll see you soon.”
I picked up my gym bag and tennis racquet and quickly left. Cynthia was nowhere to be found. I had to locate her.
What was I supposed to tell Brad? That I collided with her at the club and let her go? That I lost her while chatting with Rebecca? Brad would be furious with me.
I made my way to the tennis courts and tried to keep myself busy with a practice session. But my mind was restless. My questions remained unanswered. And only one person could provide those answers.
Where on earth was Cynthia?
***
Cynthia POV.
My first day at my new job turned out to be quite an eventful one. I bumped into Sinacore of all people. And finally, a pesky woman named Rebecca started hounding me for no reason whatsoever.
Whatever little satisfaction I felt at landing a new job and getting back on my feet again quickly evaporated as Rebecca and a couple of her female buddies came at me with their fangs out. I was not new to humiliation or ridicule. From interviewers to peers, friends, and relatives, I have had my share of insensitive morons tormenting me with laughs and jeers, taunts and sneers for as long as I could remember.
But Rebecca and her gal pals took it to a whole different level that day.
For reasons unknown to me, Rebecca made me feel as though she was jealous of me, perhaps due to her misconceived notion of my relationship with Sinacore. Not that there was any relationship to speak of. While she was shamelessly hitting on him in front of me, I noticed a distinct look of discomfort and uneasiness in Sinacore’s eyes, as if he wanted to leave as much as I did.
And trouble followed me soon thereafter.
I spent a good thirty minutes sweeping and cleaning the lounge area, only to watch in horror as Rebecca and her gang of shrews intentionally stepped on dirt that lay by the yard, presumably for gardening at a later date, and left their dirty footprints on the marble floor of the lounge. They giggled like schoolkids and grinned like witches as they watched me scrub the floor clean. A second time. Without reacting to their twisted prank.
My silence and diligence didn't go down too well with the bratty gang. They decided to up the ante.
“Blonde girls make the best cleaners,” came the first snide remark. An indirect reference to my blonde hair, I presumed.
“Not all blondes,” jeered another. “The stray ones, mostly. White trash. Have you seen any of them lately, Rebecca?”
“I have no wish to,” Rebecca answered with, what felt like, an ounce of sting and a pound of venom. “They are best kept at arm's length, on the other side of the tracks where they belong. But my Dad keeps bringing home an odd stray once in a while. Some even end up here in this academy.”
They burst out laughing in collective perverse glee. What sadistic pleasure they obtained from my torment was beyond my comprehension or understanding.
“Strays will remain strays, no matter how much you care for them,” remarked another girl. “Feed them, clothe them, employ them, but never trust them. They are nobody’s children. Loyal to nothing. Grateful to no one.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t touch one with a ten-foot pole,” Rebecca crossed her arms and continued her verbal jibes. All three of them were leaning casually against the wall behind my back. “They may invoke my Dad’s pity, but not mine. They do make excellent cleaners, though.”
“White trash sure knows how to clean trash…”
The barbs were incessant and relentless. I pretended to be deaf, oblivious to their presence or efforts to provoke a response from me. I kept sweeping and scrubbing in silence.
Any other person in my place might have reacted with outrage, but I was used to living a life of indignation and insignificance. “To fall is not to fail,” my seventh-grade teacher Mrs. McCarthy had taught me.
I would never quit irrespective of how many times I fell.
Above all, though, I needed the job. More than anything else. It took a lot of begging and pleading to land this cleaning job, and I was not ready to quit because of Rebecca and her gang of shrews.
But Rebecca sure knew how to get beneath someone’s skin. She eventually got to me.
As I was cleaning the fountain behind the tennis courts, Rebecca pushed me from behind. A sudden, unprovoked, uncalled-for act of wanton heartlessness. A despicable act of uncontrolled bullying.
I got drenched from head to toe. Even though the pool was shallow, the water was deep enough to get me soaked. My uniform got wet and clung to my body, leaving me embarrassed and jittery.
And very humiliated indeed.
Rebecca and her venomous pals laughed like hyenas. They relished my distress and discomfort not only with their eyes but also with their phones. Each one of them took out their phones and began to record my moment of anguish and misery.
I wanted to scream at them now. Give them a piece of my mind. But I did neither of those things. All I wanted to do was to go to the changing room and put on dry clothes.
I cowered in distress and looked for a way out of the fountain. I prayed fervently for divine intervention. And just like a miracle, my prayers were answered.
Someone turned up out of nowhere and stood between me and the girls, blocking their view and interrupting their video recording spree. I looked up in surprise and gratitude. It was not God.
It was Sinacore…
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone