Bab 10: "It's alright Tristan.."
"Hahh~~ Whifler! You're really driving me nuts! It was almost dawn when I finished unpacking my things. And now, WHAT THE HECK ARE THESE PILES OF PACKAGES?!!" Tristan glared at Whifler, who was now preparing the table with Tanya.
"Of course, your things. You don't want to use Trish's personal belongings, do you?" Whifler responded.
"But, you almost brought the whole boutique here! Isn't this too much?"
"Why are you complaining? Do you want me to have you naked instead?"
"That's better than folding nonstop," Tristan said, unamused.
"That's enough you two. Come on, let's eat," Tanya butted in after preparing the breakfast.
"You both eat without me. I'll bring food to Trish first," Whifler announced while holding a tray of food.
"Woah. I almost think you're my sister's lover, not her manager," Tristan teased.
Whifler threw a thick and hard plastic cup that bonked Tristan's head.
"What the—that hurts!!" Tristan ranted while scratching the hit spot.
Whifler just gave him a death look, then headed to Trish's room. Tristan looked at Tanya.
"What's his problem?!" Tristan asked, but Tanya just shrugged her shoulders while chomping her food.
"Aist! That bastard!" Tristan groaned, scratching again his head.
.
Whifler knocked before entering Trish's room. Her eyes widened as she noticed what Whifler brought.
"You don't have to do that. I have a housemaid here, you should've let them do it."
"They were busy, too. So, I just brought it myself. Anyway, no big deal," he smiled
Trish averted her eyes while blushing.
"T-Thank you."
"No problem. Go ahead. Eat it now before it gets cold."
"How about you?"
"Uh. I'll just eat after you."
"Eh? What are you, my butler or something? Come on let's just share with this." Whifler flinched at what Trish said.
"Ah, no. It's fine. That's only for you," he replied which made Trish raise her right brow.
"Are you telling me to get mad just now, Manager Whifler?" Whifler recoiled at Trish's sudden authoritative tone.
"A-ah. Of course not! Hand me that fork," he said, then started to eat silently.
Trish just smiled on his flustered face and started to eat as well.
'Cute', she thought, staring at him.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Tristan removed all the stuff out of the packages and poutingly started to fold those that needed to be folded.
"That retard! Am I going to fold clothes for the rest of my life?! If he wanted to buy the whole mall, he should also hire people to fold these! And why the hell these clothes were not folded and wrapped?!"
"Oi, you've been ranting there for half an hour. Why don't you eat first?" Tanya spoke, then drank her water. She just finished her breakfast.
"Yeah. I'm a bit hungry, too," Tristan responded, then stood and was about to go to the dining table, but he stopped when a maid came.
"Mrs. Fuentavilla is here, sir Tristan," the maid notified him. Tristan's face brightened and his heart jumped in glad.
"Where is she??" he excitedly asked.
"She's parking in the backyard now, sir."
"Really??" Tristan enthusiastically ran to meet his mother. He was like a child excited for a treat.
"Mom—"
"Where's your sister?" Tristan was stunned at what his mother's words greeted him.
Tristan's wide smile was gone and a tightening feeling devoured his chest. He was longing for his mother but, it seemed like his feeling wasn't reciprocated. He thought his mother was here for him too, but the truth slapped him hard. He averted his gaze to the floor, holding back the tears that wanted to fall off.
"Oh. Ah—she's in her room," he gloomily answered while fidgeting with the tip of his shirt.
"Okay. Did you eat already?" his mom asked him as she walked into the house. He followed her in.
"Ah, yes."
"That's good." She replied then headed to Trish's room. Tristan was left standing at the same spot, completely lost in his thoughts.
"Tristan?" Tanya confusedly looked at his dazed face.
"What happened?" Whifler asked when he arrived with a tray of empty plates.
Tanya just pointed to Tristan, who was standing while his head was lowered.
"Tristan," he called as he put down the tray on the table. Tristan didn't respond. He was still staring at the floor.
Whifler went closer to him. "Tristan."
Whifler tapped Tristan's shoulder which startled him. He blankly looked at Whifler.
"What time is our shoot again?" Tristan asked which caused Whifler's brows to furrow.
"Around noon," he answered
"Ah, right. I'll prepare now," Tristan said with an upset look on his face, then headed to his room.
Whifler looked at Tanya asking for some clarification, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
"He became like that when Mrs. Fuentavilla came and he didn't eat yet," Tanya responded.
Whifler became worried and bothered at what Tanya said.
'What is it again', he thought.
.
.
.
.
"Hahh~~ What a pain," Whifler mumbled and sighed as he frustratedly massaged his forehead.
He was in the middle of the chaotic impatient crew nagging him about Tristan.
It was near afternoon. They were currently at the location of the photoshoot and Tristan was still staying in the dressing room. Their agreed time for the shoot was delayed and now the crew was in a rage.
"Why is he still not coming out? He was already done 10 minutes before the shoot," Tanya confusedly whispered at Whifler.
"Don't ask me. I don't know either," he countered.
"Manager Whifler, where is she?! When are you planning to start this shoot?!"
"We've been waiting for almost one and a half hours. What's the problem?"
"Ah. I'm really sorry. But, as you know, Trish had rest for one week due to her cold and she just recovered, so maybe she needed more time to be prepared." Whifler lied under pressure and nervous.
"What should we do now?" Tanya whispered
"Did you talk to him?" Whifler whispered back at her.
"Yes. But he didn't respond. He also locked the door. I'm worried."
Whifler's head ached even more thinking and worrying about Tristan and also annoyed by the loud bickering of the staff.
"This is driving me insane!" he frustratedly mumbled.
'Tristan. Don't make me worry. What's happening?', he thought.
Meanwhile,
"Damn." Tristan nervously mumbled.
He was sitting on a long sofa in the dressing room while hugging his knees. He was trembling and suffocated.
The sense of impending doom or danger resonated with his body. He was panting and devoured by fear. He couldn't think straight nor calm himself.
His eyes landed on his bag's pocket when he noticed the bracelet that Summer gave to him.
'Just hold onto it and think I was holding your hand like this'
"Summer," he mumbled then immediately took the bracelet and hugged it.
He closed his eyes and started to breathe in and out.
His heartbeat gradually calmed down, his trembling body became steady and he finally breathed normally.
He once again took a deep breath and exhaled it.
When he was completely calmed, he wore the bracelet and wiped the sweat all over his face and body.
He also retouched himself and fixed the fuchsia pink color off-shoulder crop top and an above-the-knee skirt that he was wearing. He then put the Fuchsia, mixed with the baby pink color, stiletto on.
"It's alright Tristan," he mumbled in front of the mirror, encouraging himself.
.
.
"Wow. They were getting outraged now," Tanya mumbled, watching the crew squabble.
"Manager Whifler. This is too much! We can't wait any longer! We really need Ms. Fuentavilla to be here now. We're wasting a lot of time!" The producer angrily said at Whifler.
"Yes. Yes. She's coming out soon," Whifler replied while scratching his left eyebrow.
'Oh, ghad! This is frustrating', he thought.
"Soon?! You've been telling me that about ten times now. Is she going to do this shoot or not?! This is not the only schedule we had this day, Manager Whifler."
"I understand." Whifler took a deep sigh.
"I think this can't be helped," he mumbled.
'I think we should cancel this shoot for now', he thought.
"I really apologize. But, can we reschedule this shoot?"
The producer flinched and his eyes widened at what Whifler asked.
"Pardon me? We've been waiting this long just for nothing? And Ms. Fuentavilla is here, why rescheduled it? Are you mocking us, Manager Whifler?" The producer seethed.
"No, sir. Don't misunderstand. It's just that—"
"Manager Whifler. That's enough."
They all looked at Tristan as he spoke. He bowed in front of them with great respect.
"I'm genuinely apologetic for making you all wait. We did not aim to deliberately offend you, so please don't misunderstand what my manager said".
Tristan lifted his head and looked at them.
"I promise it will never happen again. If it's okay, to make up for your wait. Can we start the photoshoot now?"
The producer paused for a while, then sighed.
"Of course. Thank you for finally showing up, Ms. Trish Fuentavilla." The producer of the crew said, then clapped his hand to make them all ready.
"What took you so long?" Whifler stressedly asked Tristan.
"I had a bloody fight with a demon," Tristan joked while moving his eyebrows up and down and slightly smiled.
Whifler's mouth hung at Tristan's expression.
'Am I worrying for nothing?', he thought.
.
.
Tristan started the photoshoot. No one really noticed that he wasn't Trish. Even Whifler was impressed with how he naturally and perfectly impersonated his sister.
'If I don't know everything, I was definitely convinced as well'.
Whifler thought, looking at Tristan while smirking.
"What are you smirking about?".
Whifler looked at Tanya as she spoke and gave him a cup of Iced Coffee.
"Nothing."
"I wonder how Tristan feels right now," Tanya commented, then sipped her Iced Chocolate drink.
Whifler's brows furrowed. "Feels?"
"Mhm," she nodded, then put her drink on the table beside her.
"Look at him. Below there. Do you see a bulge? Nothing, right? It was neat, clean, and plain," Tanya grinned while executing her hands like a camera focusing on Tristan's skirt.
"He really did a great job hiding it, don't you think?" she innocently chuckled.
Whifler bonked her head and unamusedly stared at her.
"Just what are you looking at. You're a horrible observant."
"What? I'm just complimenting him. I know how uncomfortable it was, you know!" she pouted.
"Omo!" Tanya playfully smiled while looking at Whifler. He confusedly stared at her.
"Why not try it too? Let's see who's better at hiding it!" she suggested.
Whifler flinched and then turned around and walked away.
"Heyy! Come on, Whifler!! How about a bet?" she cheerfully said and followed him.
"Leave me alone, Tanya!"
"Just once!"
"Cut it out!"
"Oh. Don't tell me you're scared?"
"Go to hell!"
"Hahahaha! You really are!"
"Shut up!"
"Manager Whiflerrrr...!"
"Hahh~~ Seriously I'm gonna kill you!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
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