"Look love, this was the first thing you gave me," I whisper.
It's a very classy yet elegant looking fountain pen. The nib is of gold. I help her unsteady body to stand as her head rests on my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Damien's focus glued to me as he shifts tensely in his seat.
"Edward," Charlotte lifts my chin up looking dizzily at me as droplets of wine slides down the corners of her mouth. "Tell me, did you ever have any affection for me?"
"I have had, love," I say making her hold the pen. I sit her on the sofa. Some papers are there on the glass table.
"Then make love to me Edward. Make me feel like you belong to me. Only me." She kisses my neck with fervour then pushes her body into mine.
"Do you desire me that much Florence?" I ask with a hint of innocence lingering in my expression.
"Tell me Eddie, how do I make you believe? Shall I end my life for you?" She acts like the perfect intoxicated love sick woman when she clasps the lapels of my suit, barely holding onto me.
"Anything but that, love. I can't have you dying on me. After all I crave you as much as a homeless beggar craves home." I push the papers in her hand. "One little task here, love. Then I'm all yours. Today, tomorrow and for the rest of our lives."
"Yes love," she hiccups. "This Sunday will be unimaginable..." She holds the papers clumsily. "What are these my love?" She tries to kiss me again. "Ah my head feels dizzy.."
"Some not so important conditions that will tie us together—forever. Can you do this simple task for me?"
"You know Edward... There was a time when I used to decline every guy who'd go to any length to get my attention. After all I'm the only daughter of my beloved father. He never made me realise that I didn't have mother."
She sniffs a little. "After him, you're the one I have chosen to put my utter faith and love in. You made me understand this feeling that I suppressed for decades. If love comes with a little condition, let me accept it."
She smiles feverishly planting a gentle kiss on my hand then presses it against her bosom.
I kiss her forehead. "Florence..."
She signs the paper shakily without going through it.
"Do you feel alright?" I ask when she leans heavily on me. "Shall I take you to the bedroom?"
She doesn't answer. Her grip holding onto the pen loosen up. It hits the floor.
"You're the first woman I have put this much effort Florence," I say looking intensely at the invisible stage. "And you're also the last woman whose destiny will be written in my hands."
"Cut!"
"Excellent shot."
They exclaim cheerfully. Charlotte gets up then walks over to the other side to get some refreshments.
Damien strides to me. "Edward Hunt huh. The protagonist cum antagonist. This role was really made for ya."
"Take a break," Mr. Charles suggests.
I glance at the clock. Wow it's already 7 pm.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask him.
"You know... A facade," Damien says thinking deeply. "A brutal heartless character—Edward who's only pretending to get his purpose done."
"You...on the other hand... Hm... Cold tacit nature—oh and you flinch ever so slightly every time I attempt to get inside of your head to read your thoughts." He leans towards me offering me a lichi drink.
If this goes on he'll get his desired success on comprehending me—my entirety.
I take the drink can from him quickly yet hesitantly.
"Am I getting it right Mr. Angel?"
I pull him to a corner. "You wanna act too? There's still a tiny role left probably. A clownish character for comedy effect. Your uncle's looking for the right guy Damien. That way you'll get more excuses to stay with me."
"Don't flatter yourself Saint Angel. I never needed excuses to do something I wanted."
He wanted? He wants to stay with me? Does he maybe... admire my acting aura?
I brush off the thought. "Can you stop calling me by my full name? I call you just Damien, don't I?"
He smirks, lifting my chin. "You don't like to be called My Angel, do you?"
"My first name is Saint." I glare at him. "How about calling me just that? I thought we weren't on formal terms anymore."
He takes the the drink can from me gulping it all down.
"I only took three sips of it Damien."
"See? I can't call you my angel, so I prefer to go with your full name. I can't simply omit the part Angel you know—since you are the ultimate angel," he answers unabashedly.
I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Is this fear? Intimidation? Embarassment? Or someone else altogether?
Right then Charlotte comes between us. "Hey Mr. Angel..."
"Call me Saint already."
"Okay. Saint... Will you be joining me for a drink?" Charlotte asks fiddling with her fingers nervously. "To spend some time getting to know each other for the rest of the evening—for the sake of our characters you know. We're already done with our scenes today right?"
I recall Chris also asked me out. "Charlotte... I..."
Damien butts in again. "Actually we do have plans Miss Charlotte."
"And when did 'we'" I quote him. "Make plans exactly?"
"We didn't?" He makes a smug face. "Well, we're doing it now then." He takes hold of my hand and without giving Charlotte another chance to speak he pulls me out of the building.
"Jesus Damien slow down."
"I don't often hear you say that." He finally lets go of me.
"Say what? Jesus?"
He's right! I don't really say Jesus often. Infact I can't remember the last time I said that before meeting Damien. I glare at his raised eyebrows. What else is he going to make me do in this life?
"Kate isn't your girlfriend huh..." I try to change the topic.
"That's right." There's a faint dilemma in his voice. But I don't want to pry.
We enter a bar. The upbeat disco music and tipsy bodies prepare themselves to overwhelm me. The whiff of alcohol is thriving in the air.
"Order up. It's time for payback," he declares.
"I'm not drinking Damien. I'm already tired after all those hours of shooting."
"Are you crazy? All the more reason you should drink," he opines loudly.
"One whisky sour for me," he orders then asks the bartender to make me the recent popular mild drink since he knows I didn't drink ever before until that night.
He's having his second glass of old fashioned. He's that guy who can survive a whole night drinking only alcohol. And when I asked before he said, "It's just fun. It's not like I'm drinking regularly."
"Where are you spacing out again? Drink drink."
I hesitate but do as he says. What happened last time must not happen again.
"Stop being paranoid. I'm not Chris to leave you alone while you're drunk. Or... do you want to be mama's good boy again?" He moves his left hand stirring his drink a little before chugging it down.
"So you want to play it that way hah?" I finish my glass and ask the bartender for a refill.
"Woah woah..." He shakes me then chuckles. "Are you sure you'll be able to stay on your toes?"
"Or what?" I jerk him off. "Will you again drag me to your house to do inappropriate things?"
"Whatever do you mean?" He grins mischievously.
I gulp down another glass.
"I have to say you're getting the hang of it." He compliments.
"Shut up!" I shout. "I just..." *Hic* "I should stop... But I won't lose to someone like you." *Hic*
"Someone like me hm?" He brings his head closer. His face pops up hazily above my eyes. The noises around us start to blur out.
"Do you hate me Saint?"
I'm not hearing things right? He called me Saint. Only Saint.
I raise my index at his face then poke in his right cheekbone. "Finally Saint...hm," I grin. "Do I hate you?"
Then I move my index left and right. "No No. Sometimes I envy you Damien," I blurt out the words. I finish the remaining contents of my fourth glass. My head's kinda spinning.
He snatches the glass from my hand. "You win alright? Now stop it."
I laugh again. He's the one who started it. Now he wants me to stop? Funny.
"Why?" He asks.
"Why?" I shake my head stubbornly. "Let me tell you why. You're livin' life to its fullest—no one has no control over ya. You-are like that bird in wild—soaring far in the sky. No expectations no demands. You love to sing and that's what you're doing."
"I didn't even know what I loved," I continue. "I wanted to be an actor when I was little. Yet I'm unsure of whether it's my true calling or not." I put my heavy head down on the counter top. "Mom... Mom dreams of me becoming her unfulfilled dream. Dad wants me to walk in his shadow. When I go back to home I can't sleep. You have such good friends Damien... Zeb Todd Mika. They're not just your band members—they're like your follower, admirer and your family. Friends for a life. Am I talking too much?"
For a moment he stares blankly at me then he puts his hand on top of my head, caressing the middle gently. "Now you are too."
Huh?
"You're someone close to me now. Someone I trust. No matter what happens in the future, I will be okay with your decisions, Saint."
His words come as a blurred whisper but somehow he manages to assure me everytime.
••••
I feel Damien's hands on my face. He's in front of me, peering at me closely.
"Saint... Saint... angel face as they say... Oh how I was intrigued by that pretty little face of yours. As time passed, I came to know of your cold distant character. A hard rare pearl, aren't you?"
I stand there, motionless as he paces around me. "Your every demeanor irritates me and I don't like it when I'm lying to myself everyday saying that I hate you and I only want to solve you, read you, defeat you."
I shudder when he shakes my body saying, "But I can't. What have you done Saint Angel?!"
I jolt awake with sweat. Mom gasps in anxiety. "Honey are you okay? Was it a bad dream?"
I'm on my-bed? That was a dream?
"Mom!" I cry out in fear. "Why... How am I here?"
She hands me a glass of water. "Let's talk about it later," she says with a grin expression.
But I have no time to think of it thoroughly and feel bad about it cause I just need to confirm one thing right now. Did Damien bring me home last night? I was drunk for sure. Hell I can't remember anything after I shut him off and said that I won't lose to him in drinking. Nothing is worse than a hangover. I wish I listened to him first.
"Mom tell me right now." I hold my head resignedly. "Who brought me here?"
"Chris did."
Huh? How is that making any sense?
"We need to talk honey." She takes my hand.
Not now mom. But I say nothing.
"Let's have dinner outside tonight."
But I have filming till 8.30. By the time I come back I usually have no energy left.
"Mom... Can we talk now?"
She wistfully smiles at me. "I know I haven't been a great mother Sein. I know I have been only trying to shape you inside my vision. I never asked what your heart wants."