Chapter 1 - Robbie
It was almost midday when I was awakened by the harsh sunlight streaming into my bed. The air-conditioning unit was humming silently, but it was no match to the intensity of Metro Manila’s hot and humid summer, and I felt beads of sweat on my bare torso. A dull throbbing in my temples signaled the beginning of a bad hangover. A wave of drunken dizziness hit me when I stood up to get my boxers haphazardly thrown into the recliner beside my bed.
I groggily made my way in front of the full-length vanity mirror in one corner of my room. My 25-year-old self stared back at me in the mirror. A six-foot frame with a boyishly handsome face and a head of tousled, short, wavy black hair. Not bad, I complimented myself. I work out at least thrice a week, and the results are impressive. Muscles are taut but not as overly pronounced as those of professional bodybuilders. I prefer it this way since it gives me a lithe appearance. As one of the country’s leading young actors, my physique is one of my most prized assets. Viewers on this side of the world have always favored good looks over talent, as evident with the many actor-singers who can’t carry a tune to save their lives but are raking in millions by singing songs that only their crazed fanbase loves.
After washing my face and a quick gargle, I remembered I had an interview scheduled for that afternoon. The online magazine reporter promised to send an advance copy of his questions. I almost always demand to see questions in advance. I’ve seen too many others make a fool of themselves during interviews after getting hit by an unexpected question. A quick survey of the room showed no signs of my mobile phone on the nightstand and the vanity table. I must have taken it with me to bed. I lifted the duvet but found a sleeping naked figure instead.
The mystery woman is sleeping on her side, facing away from me. I couldn’t see her face, but the curvature of her back and her plump bottom were visible. I was about to wake her up, but something stopped me. Shit, what’s her name? I remember dancing with a girl in the club last night. It was a clean and harmless dance with another club-goer. Except, this club-goer has a nice pair of long legs and a nice rack. I have a vague recollection of some intense petting inside my car, followed by a more intense blowjob. Her considerable skills sealed the deal, and I decided to finish the second part of the act here in my townhouse.
Something else clicked in my mind, and I started a careful survey of the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping figure. Finding nothing, I returned to the en-suite bathroom and opened the trash can. No used condom, or condoms. Shit. I made a mental note to schedule tests in a few days. Getting an STI is my primary concern, not knocking out last night’s conquest. I always pull out, so the risk of pregnancy is almost non-existent.
The low rumbling of my stomach reminded me that the last thing I ate was some Buffalo wings at the club. Some breakfast might help clear my head so I can remember the name of the woman I had sex with last night. As I made my way to the ground floor of the two-story townhouse, the grumbling in my stomach intensified when I smelled the aroma of beef caldereta. Manang Letty was busily tending to the beef stew. Without looking up from the pot she was stirring, she pointed to a steaming mug of coffee set on the kitchen island.
“Just a few more minutes, and this will be ready.”
“Good morning Nanay Lett”. Nanay Letty is a 58-year-old sprite of a woman with graying hair. She has been my kasambahay or house helper, since I moved into the townhouse when I turned eighteen. With my family living in the province, Manang Letty has become my surrogate parent, so I affectionately call her Nanay or mother.
“Good afternoon,” the old lady corrected. “It’s past twelve already. Ross has called twice to remind you that you have an interview this afternoon. And put some clothes on before you catch a cold”.
I found my missing phone beside the mug of coffee. Ross is my assistant and takes care of my schedule. While sipping coffee, I checked my messages and found nothing of interest. A few missed calls from Ross and a message reminding me of the place and time for my interview. Ross also forwarded an email containing the promised advanced copy of the interview questions. As expected, most of the questions were about my last project, Dark Romeo Season 5. A dark romance TV series about a hunk who fights crime as a vigilante when he’s not too busy charming the panties off the various leading ladies. As with most Filipino TV series, the network kept on extending the series since its popularity never waned. As the story kept on getting more absurd, the fight scenes intensified, and the leading ladies kept on getting prettier and sexier. The viewers seemed unbothered, so the producers soldiered on. I can’t really complain since Black Romeo has been my bread and butter for the last five years.
Aside from the huge pile of money, Black Romeo turned me into a household name. It opened the doors to leading roles in high-budget movies. As a result, the name Robbie Reyes now belongs to an elite list of some of the highest-paid actors in the industry. Black Romeo is currently taking a one-year hiatus, but filming for Season 6 will begin in a few months.
My reverie was interrupted by the steaming plate of rice that Manang Letty set in front of me. An aromatic bowl of beef caldereta followed it. Manang Letty sat on the opposite end of the kitchen island with her own plate of rice. It’s one of the hard rules I insisted upon: Manang Letty eats where I eat. I’m the only occupant of the three-bedroom townhouse, and I’m determined to have some company during meals.
“I already washed the clothes you wore last night. I also washed your friend’s clothes”.
I smiled mischievously. Manang Letty is used to me bringing “friends” home. Most of the time, me and my friends leave a trail of discarded clothes on our way to the bedroom. I used to feel embarrassed knowing that the old lady was privy to my adventures, but as the years went by, I became aware that Manang Letty is tight-lipped and my night-time escapades would remain a secret. I also guessed that the old lady understands the adventurous streak that hits guys my age.
This reminded me of the naked “friend” and a name that still eludes me. I was still racking my brain for a name when I heard a soft thud opposite me.
Everything that followed was a confusing jumble of events. Finding Manang Letty unconscious and lying on the floor. My fingers trembling as I called for an ambulance. The panic and terror of seeing Manang Letty’s lips turn a bluish shade. The last thing that I remembered as the EMTs carried the stricken old lay to the ambulance was an image of a confused young woman standing at the bottom of the stairs, covering herself with his duvet.
