by Mara Lynne
The smile wanes.
I am a bit surprised that Ray knows so many things about Damien. He sounds like he has been stalking him for quite a long time.
“Yes, you are, and it’s a bad thing, Angel.” Ray is so pissed. He transformed into that overprotective friend again. “Being near Damien isn’t good for all the female species, I tell you. He gets every girl who comes to him, and it’s written in his DNA. He exudes this and that… if you know what I mean. Believe me, I’ve been there. I was a victim of Etheridge’s charm and all. I am not a girl, I wish I am, that’s why I’ll never be a candidate for heartbreak. Everyone who is linked to him falls in love, and Damien does what he’s good at— break hearts after breaking hymens. Get the picture? He’s terribly dangerous.”
I could only sigh with relief. I want to jump for joy, but Ray will be wondering about this extreme outburst of bliss. It’s a respite to actually know this and know that nothing happened last night. It just means I am safe from his claws. Gone is regret for not having the million dollars he promised. I could call last night a nightmare turned blessing from which I learned a valuable lesson.
But if Damien is what Ray says he is, the extremely dangerous rich guy who makes all girls fall in love with him with the intention of only breaking their hearts and hymens, why didn’t he do it last night? I was weak and dazed. He could have easily done it. I am too small to even resist him. What happened to the beast he ought to be?
“How sure are you that Damien is that kind of guy?” I say in a lowered my voice.
“It’s a no-brainer, Angel. Remember Taylor Higgins?”
“The cheerleader who cut her wrist last summer? Why?”
“She’s his nth victim.” Ray sounds so sure. “Taylor isn’t the only one. The others aren’t accounted for, but I am sure they’re pretty hurt. Oh, I feel so awful for even telling you to reconsider before. I’m such a bad friend.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“So, why were you in his car?”
I thought he would just let me off
“We just talked,” I lied through my teeth.
“Talk about what?” His eyebrow arches.
“De Vere. It’s due next Friday.” Now, my conscience is killing me. “Actually, Ray…”
“Angel, you have Haynes at ten thirty, right? It’s ten thirty-five already,” Ray says while looking at his watch.
“Damn it! I’m late. I’ll see you later this afternoon, Ray!” I ran through the corridor, praying that Haynes hasn’t arrived yet. Talking with Ray about Damien raised my curiosity. I even lose track of time. Maybe I’ll tell him the truth later at the cafeteria.
When I get there, my world crashes. Haynes is already on the platform discussing Charles Dickens and his great expectations. He looks at me through his spectacles and says, “First time to be tardy, Mohr, eh?”
I feel the mortifying warmth across my cheeks as everyone’s eyes zero in on me.
“Go to your seat now.”
I hurriedly walked to my chair, but before I do, I catch a glimpse of Etheridge looking at me. He is seated a few chairs behind me. His lips are pressed on a thin line, and his gray eyes were still as icy as ever. I’m not sure if there is sympathy in them, but I hope he won’t always see me as the poor Angel who knocked on his door for sex to have money. I have a deeper reason for doing it.
I open my notebook and start copying whatever is on the projected slides. With my thoughts of Damien behind me, I cannot concentrate on listening to Haynes. He is now talking about the scene where Pip suspected that Miss Havisham was his benefactor and was ready to give up the dream of becoming a blacksmith. All this doesn’t sink into my brain. Fortunately, I have read the book two times and have watched several movie and drama series adaptions via the British channel, so I think it is okay to let my thoughts run around this time. I feel so feverish the whole time I sit, scribbling indecipherable patterns at the top of my notebook while Haynes explains.
My head is filled with Damien Etheridge! I hate it! I hate it so much! I want him to leave my mind, but as I force myself to close my eyes and pretend that I am interested in Pip and Estelle’s love story, the electrifying memory of Damien touching me intimately continues to pop out.
Shit! What has he done to me?
I thought that the moment I walk out of his car would be the beginning of a life free of him, but it looks like I’m wrong. Maybe it won’t be that fast. Maybe I would need time to fully recover from this traumatic experience. I am no good in psychology, but I can say that last night is a perfect example of an event that will produce looming change. Whatever it is, I fear it will take me a lot of common sense and resilience to adapt to it. I just wish it won’t be long to get rid of it. It is very discomfiting really thinking about Mom and Dad, school and money, and Damien and last night's events at the same time. If this continues, I might find myself in a sanitarium before I get my hands on a college diploma.
“I am looking forward to your Shakespeare reports next week,” Haynes’ words break through my trance. “Monday and Wednesday will be your free day. I suggest you hit the library because it won’t be a walk in the park defending your candidates. I say you take this seriously for this will be your ticket to graduation day. Godspeed!” Haynes picks up his pile of leather-bound books from his table and walks out of the room in the speed of light. He does this all the time. He wants to be the first to leave class. Reason? Unknown. People’s hypothesis? Cenophobia or fear of empty rooms. From all the gossips about Haynes’ living arrangement, it is quite easy to deduce his medical condition. He turned a rather large office all for himself into a crowded office which he gets to share with other staff. His house is crammed with relatives, and he never sleeps alone. I think this matter is no longer a secret. Haynes himself is not denying it, but neither is he admitting it.
Once he is gone, I quickly scamper out of the classroom before I can even detect Etheridge’s breath.
I ran to the corridor, looking over my shoulder once in a while to see if he is following, then continue running until I reach the lobby. It’s a relief to not see him around. The past few days with him tailing me wherever I am was really taxing on my part. I don’t even know if I still have the gall to face him after what happened last night.
I have two hours for my next class, two longs hours of waiting and thinking of what to do with my problem. Why stay in one corner of the library or cafeteria when I can search the entire city for answers?
So I go to where I think is the fastest way to look for money— the bank. Requesting for loans is not a new thing to me. It has become quite a routine practice for me.
Mrs. De Burg, the liaison officer for loan requests, has become my friend after all the years helping me acquire assistance funds. She’s motherly, amiable, and caring. She always makes it easier for me. I just wish this time she won’t turn me down.
“I’m sorry, Angel,” she says apologetically, her hazel green eyes staring at me. “But it’s protocol. We can’t give loans to patrons who haven’t paid their balance for the last two years. Your family has a huge debt to pay first before you can request for another loan. Have you received our letters?”
“Yes, Mrs. De Burg. I promise to pay them.” I explain. “I just badly need the money this time. Dad is in the hospital again, and I have an exam coming up.”
She rubs her head as though thinking.
“I really want to give this request form to you, but it will still be useless, Angel. The bank will check on your assets and liabilities. They will still find out.”
“Is there a way for me to convince the head loan officer, Mrs. De Burg?”
“I’m afraid no, Angel. The bank is a private organization.” Then her eyes light up. “Maybe you can try for the public fund. At the City Mayor’s Office, they have a department that caters to loan requests for the impoverished.” Her face reddens when she realizes it’s a bit off-putting to call me impoverished. Though it hurts, I know it is true. Truth hurts anyway. “I mean, fo
r the financially challenged.”
“Thanks for the euphemism, Mrs. De Burg.” I smile anyway.
“I’m so sorry, dear.”
“It’s okay. I think I’ll go there. What’s this office called?”
“The Etheridge Foundation.”
Etheridge?
Why must it always be him? I would have asked if there are NGO’s or other private organizations that might help me, but searching for NGOs all over the U.S. might take me a month which is way beyond my time frame.
“They don’t only offer loans for mortgages and health but also scholastic financial assistance. Doesn’t your father have health insurance?”
“He has, but he has used it all up for his last hospitalization. I don’t think his insurance can handle all our expenses,” I reply. “But I think I’ll pass for that, Mrs. De Burg. I heard it would take weeks before they grant your request.”
“Why don’t you try, Angel? They might reconsider. You just don’t know. There’s no harm in trying.”
I let out a heavy sigh.
“What do I need to do, Mrs. De Burg?”
She holds her index finger up and picks up her ringing phone. “Hold on a sec, Angel.” She stands up from her chair and leaves her table.
I look around the bank. There are many people dressed in fine clothes. Obviously, they are the rich people whose hobby is to go bank-hopping. It is too easy for them to take out cash from their pockets. For a moment, I thought of begging or kneeling in front of them. Maybe I should camp outside the bank and ask for alms. With all the money they have, sparing me a few grand wouldn’t hurt.
My eyes catch a glimpse of a tall, middle-aged woman, beautiful and sophisticated, enter the bank. Her dark brown hair was in a low bun, her ears, neck, and fingers adorned with large diamonds. She looks so majestic. A troop of men in expensive suits follows her though it seems like they are guarding the diamonds more than her.
I study her face intently. I think I have seen her somewhere, on the TV or a magazine perhaps, but I just don’t remember who she is. A bald, round man meets her at the foot of the staircase, shakes her hand then leads her upstairs where guests are invited to discuss their financial status over a cup of tea. I have always dreamed of going up there and see what’s inside those rooms. I heard from Ray that only the rich gets this special treatment of tea and a private financial accountant to go through their bank books. Well, what is there to account for in my savings? Whatever little savings I have is hardly a dime to these wealthy people. My eyes are still on the remarkably statuesque and beautiful woman when Mrs. De Burg comes out from the door. Strangely, she is smiling.
“I have good news for you, Angel. You just found yourself a guardian angel!”
“Huh?” I almost fall off my chair.
“Here, sign this request form, and I’ll submit this directly to Mr. Eckert.”
“Who’s Mr. Eckert?”
Is he my guardian angel? I can’t handle my excitement. Whoever this Mr. Eckert is, he’s heaven sent.
“He’s the head loan officer, and he’s called me to take your request form.”
“But I thought you said I can’t request for loans anymore.”
“Frankly, I don’t know.” Her face wrinkles. She seems clueless as to what is happening, but she looks truly happy for me. “But it doesn’t matter. You can process your loan request now! It isn’t sure yet, but let’s see what happens.”
Chapter 8: Masking Feelings
There he is at the table by the window. He isn’t with his friends but a group of girls raking their claws around his arms. From the counter, one could mistake them as sitting on his lap. However, I am too happy to interrupt their Friday night by the diner’s medieval ‘no public display of affection’ policy. I think I’ll just let these girls and Damien have the peace.
Indeed, I can’t take the smile off my face. My coming to the bank is a success. Though not really sure I will get a loan, at least they promised to process my application. Whatever made Mr. Eckert change his mind is totally beyond logical explanation. If Mrs. De Burg can’t explain, how can I? As long as I get the loan, I’m okay with anything. Nothing can depress me now, not even the sight of Damien with other girls. Not that I care about him in the first place. Seeing him attests to the fact that what happened between us last night is a common thing to him, something not worth worrying about. Why make a big deal out of it? If he can shrug it off so easily, why can’t I?
Yes, the ten grand is tempting, more so the million dollars, but now that I found my new ray of light, I’ll never gamble into that kind of deal ever again. All I have to do now is pray that they grant my loan and that I graduate so that I can look for a good job. I am doing all these for my family. Whoever this guardian angel Mrs. De Burg was talking about, I owe to him or her this hope. He or she literally picked me up from the depths of despair and hopelessness.
“You look really happy!” Ray says, peering through a glass as if it is a telescope.
“Never better!” I answer.
“Any good news about your father?”
“No, but I feel there will be good news when I go there tonight.”
“So what’s the smile all about?” He stands at my side, commanding my full attention.
“The bank might lend me money,” I answer while I slice the ham and cheese.
“Really?” A wide-eyed Ray covers his mouth with his hand after his shriek almost startled everyone. “Oh, God! That is absolutely marvelous! I am happy for you!”
“I know!” I feel butterflies in my stomach. I have been waiting to share with him this happiness since I arrived at Maxwell’s’. “I wish I get a job after I graduate so I can pay all our debts. I can’t imagine being homeless after graduation.”
“You will! That brain of yours is worth every penny of a huge company.” Ray is so good at pulling up my self-esteem. He should not know what happened last night. He must not know that I pulled the trigger. Weren’t it not because of Damien’s questionable compassion or whatever you call that, I would have been an indecent woman now — a whore to be exact. I will not let anything destroy Ray’s perception of me. Besides, it’s already in the past, and Damien seems to have forgotten it now. He looks extremely overjoyed with his group of beneficiaries.
“Now, let me take this order.”
“Table three?” He looks at me with a tensed glare. “It’s Etheridge’s table, Angel.” He must be so surprised I am not hiding from him this time.
“Let me take this one, Ray!” I say and wink at him, making sure he sees that I am confident to face Etheridge.
I leave him at the counter looking clueless.
When I reach table three, Damien immediately looks up at me, the smile not leaving his rather gorgeous face.
“What a surprise!” he exclaims, leaning back.
His girls chuckle as they scrutinize me from head to toe.
“May I take your order?” I throw the question at him, flipping my hair to the side and glaring at a woman showing off her legs exposed from her skimpy skirt.
He grunts while snuffling the blonde locks of the woman in his right. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her close to him. I swear they look like they’re ready for the night. Their giggles are so unflattering, it’s almost like they are paid to flirt with him. They are so unnatural. Then again, maybe this is how flirting is.
By the looks of it, Etheridge has easily recovered from last night. His usual playfulness is back. He’s back to his old self. He’s not picking on me anymore like he’s not seeing a thin waitress in pink uniform in front of him. This is good news! I think I’ll get my peace soon enough.
“You drink beer, girls?” he asks flamboyantly.
“Anything will do, Mr. Gorgeous!” answers one woman, sticking her index finger on his lips. My eyes widen when I see her hand creep upward from Damien’s thigh to his fly.
Before she could do anything, I slam the table. “So how many beers do you want?” I said a little too loudly.
/> “Obviously, we’re only four in this table,” a woman chuckled.
Turning on my heels, I leave their table.
Okay, so I went there to check what Etheridge’s reaction would be when he sees me. He didn’t pay much attention to me, which is a good thing. So, we’re really back to normal! What happened, happened. No strings attached, I thought to myself. I couldn’t ask for more. This is exactly the arrangement I wanted.
I bring them four glasses of beer and roll my eyes every time their skins touch. What they’re doing is completely ridiculous, especially in a public place where kids and families go. I could have told Damien to bring them to his huge expensive place where they can unload the burden of their surging hormones.
“Angel?” A tall guy with chestnut brown hair appears at the counter. “Do you remember me?” He flashes a quick smile that reminds me of my childhood crush, the pop singer Aaron Carter. They even have similar brown eyes.
Do I remember him?
“Colin Verne, sixth grade, the squire of the Elizabethan Court.”
“Colin? Is that you?”
“Now you remember!” He shows off his perfectly lined glistening teeth when I remember Colin to have a gap in between his bunny teeth. He doesn’t even look like an inch of what he was before.
“Wow! You’ve changed. You’re not… plump anymore!” My cheeks thaw at the sight of his chiseled features and broad shoulders. He has changed so much.
“Well, long hours at the gym paid a lot,” he mutters, blushing. “I grew tired of other kids making fun of me. So how are you, Angel Mohr? I see you’re still the sweet and pretty Angel all the boys dote on. These bangs never left!” He tousles my bangs with a grin on his face.
“It’s the Angel Mohr mark,” I answer while fixing my hair. “Maybe I’ll try a new hairstyle next time.”
“No, you look good with those!” he says back.