Ace of Hearts

PART 1 : Chapter 1

There are so many instances in my life that I wish I could change. First, my major in college. I know that psychology is still kickass, but well… My businesswoman streak isn’t really proof of putting my college degree into good use.  

Second of all, where I am now. I’m in a big city, in a big country, being a secretary of the big boss of a big company. Not a bad job since I earn more than I should. But let’s face it. I’m facing a dead end with my career path.  

Third and last of all, I know I said I have a businesswoman streak, well. Surprise, surprise! All my business engagements aren’t in the same country I am living in.  

As I am typing in all of Mr. Alexandrov’s (my boss’s name) scheduled for next week, I can’t help but wonder; I have a good-paying job, a business back in the Philippines that is striving under my mother and father’s management and I have all the solitude in the world, but why does it feel like I lack something?  

This can’t be the mid-life crisis because I’m far from the middle in this life. This can’t also count as loneliness because, well… let’s just say I never really thrive with more than three companions.  

Perhaps I’m missing my family back in my country?  

Maybe that’s it.  

It’s been so long since I was able to go back to the Philippines. I have been under Mr. Alexandrov’s employ for almost 2 years now and I have been living in this big country far longer than my employment with Nova Stocks Corp. Perhaps I just miss my mother’s nagging voice that seems to be in perpetual high volume and my father’s quiet but timid jokes about my mother’s latest enemy conquest. Those two couldn’t have been more mismatched if they ever ask for it.  

Everyone knows it.  

Everyone can see it. 

Damn it, everyone can hear it from a mile away. 

My mother’s never been the calmest person I know. But father? If you met the guy, you’d actually think he’s a saint.  

And then you’d probably ask what mother poisoned father with to get him to fall so deeply in love with her that all rants and shouts and other idiosyncrasies get overlooked.  

Oh s**t. 

SHIT! 

That’s it! 

I AM LONGING TO BE IN LOVE!!! 

Oh my god! Why haven’t I thought of this before? All this forlorn and boredom is because I am literally alone in my life and I have no one to share my forlorn and boredom with. 

I do have a plant that I tell all my problems to. But the point is… 

“I need to be in love!” I shouted. 

Okay not really, I only whispered that since I am just outside my boss’s office.  

And speaking of which. Here comes the boss. 

“Mr. Alexandrov” I greeted with a slight nod to him. 

“Ace.” He gave me a barely-there nod, too. 

I got up from my seat and grabbed the Starbucks Macchiato I ordered for him. For his breakfast carbs, I made him a chicken sandwich with tomatoes and onions, and broccoli. I know. Weird, right? But he never really complained about the food I feed him except of course the coffee. He never drinks a coffee that isn’t from Starbucks or something that he brewed himself.  

As I placed the sandwich on his table and he took a sip of his coffee, he ordered me to do the daily tasks that he wants me to do. All of which is already done since I always do the scheduled tasks immediately when I arrive. I took note of the things that are going to be out of schedule and I of course read to him his daily quote. Again. Weird. But he knew I have this thing with quote books like Lang Leav and stuff. He makes me choose one quote for him each day as if it’s some sort of a bible verse.  

“What’s for lunch?” he asked as I was taking off to leave. 

“I will order you from that Chinese resto from down the block. You have to eat it en route to the hospital. You have a 12:30 schedule for sperm check-up as you requested.”  

“s**t. That was today?”  

“Yes. And no, I cannot reschedule you. I pulled strings to get you this early schedule because you’re afraid that you’re too potent and might impregnate the last bimbo you fornicate with.”  

I raised my brow at him and smirked. He’s a total paranoid about accidental pregnancies. If he doesn’t want unwanted children, why doesn’t he just chop off that good ‘ole chunk of meat down there so he doesn’t have to worry? And of course, it would relieve me of having to actually break up with his delusional bed buddies who think they are going to be Mrs. Alexandrov. As if. The guy is a total playboy.  

“I don’t know how you get away with talking to me like that.” He’s actually bewildered by this. I sighed heavily and looked at him with sheer pity. 

“Eat your breakfast. You have a meeting with the board members at 9:30 and your 10:00 am meeting will set up at the lounge for the interview.” I told him and because I can’t just let it go… I added, “I’m the best secretary you ever had.” I walked out and as I was closing the door I heard him say, 

“Exactly. So, don’t fall in love and slap me with a resignation letter. I might be the first boss to kill the boyfriend.” My ears went hot with humiliation. He heard my stupidity. Damn! I should watch my mouth around my boss. Ugh.  

The day is just going great. Well, mundane, to be honest. I helped the interview crew set up at the office lounge and do their interview with my enigmatic and most of the time-insensitive boss.  

The women all swooned at his presence and the men all want to be just like him. God forbid the men actually be like him. If all men were to be like him, the world population would decrease drastically in the coming years. And I’m still yet to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Probably, like my boss, a bad combination of both.  

“Hey! You’ve got 30 minutes to spare for your 12:30. Got anything to do for me?” I asked my boss whose nose is so deep into his laptop and only looked up a moment and went back to what he was doing. 

“No. I’ll see you after lunch.” 

“Copy. I already prepared your lunch and it’s in your car. See ya, boss.”  

I waved my goodbye and went down from the 30th floor of the building to ground level. I said my hellos to the people I know and of course, I ignored those I don’t know. I’m not that great at mingling with others. Never has, and I’m afraid, I never will be.  I went to the same deli café I go to since almost 2 years ago when I started this job. I never fail to come except in my off and when I’m sick. I’m a proud patron! They know me here by name and the owner is also my friend now. She does all the cooking and baking and she’s great with all the customers here.  

“If it isn’t our Ace of Heart!” Della, the deli owner, greeted me with a smile and my regular order already on her hands. She must have seen me running from across the street, as she always does.  

“Hey, Dels! What’s something good today?” I asked her, and she immediately perked up. It’s always been my way of asking her about all the gossips she’s heard. 

If you ever have to know anything about something in this big city, you go to Della’s Delis and ask Della just about everything. I can’t even forget the day I first strolled in and she already knew me by name. Apparently, the HR people come here often, and they gossip about whatever and they definitely gossiped about me. The new secretary to the Big Boss Antoine Vlad Alexandrov. What made me controversial is because of the fact that the last secretary was apparently given an early retirement not because she’s good and not because she’s bad either, but because she was rumored to be the Big Boss’s mistress.  

Well, it’s not like he has a wife. But well, anyone who sleeps with the boss is a mistress, right? So anyway, Della’s has been my favorite place to chow and the staff became my friends. I have to admit that there was a point when Della offered me a job. Not to be her secretary but to be the place’s manager. She knows all about my business back in the Philippines and I’ve constantly talked about it with her. How it’s growing and improving each day – when the business was featured in a magazine and news articles, and other improvements.  

It’s my pride and joy but my parents are the one who’s really hands-on about it. I make big decisions and all, but they make most of the planning since they know better when it comes to the people around there. Given my successful small businesses, she deemed me worthy of managing her little deli. I had to decline, of course.  

I love working a hectic job, it keeps me focused and I can somehow apply all my psychology s**t to my non-the-wiser-until-now boss. But really, it’s because I can’t part with my 5,000 dollars a month pay. I need the money of course. But Della wasn’t deterred. She still makes the offer now and then. Of course, with more salary promises every time.  

“How’s the Big Boss?” she asks me this all the time. But I am who I am, and I happen to honor my NDA and I also take it seriously, knowing who I am working for. 

“He’s still the big boss. And I don’t gossip. You know that.” She gave me a look and sigh that can only mean she needs to train me more in this gossip and conscience and NDA things that I have to obviously get over with.  

“I hear the camera people came. Was there any good-looking fellow you liked?”  

And this, of course, is the curse of people like me.  

I have something to tell all of you and you need to heed this. There are two types of people. Those who are successful and already too old, so they need to get married and those who are like me, so young and yet successful (according to them) so I also need to get married in order for me to be normal.  

My mother used to tell me that I was crazy in the family. I was plenty crazy with academics (because I never really wanted to be top of the class but I always end up being on top), I was also plenty crazy when it comes to planning my life (because I could have stayed and worked as an HR Manager but I declined because it was too boring) and finally, I was plenty crazy with business (because I franchised the biggest fast food restaurant from my country and had it opened in my hometown and I also opened a café that offers coffee and alcohol). Of all my crazies, mom would always say that I was as normal as anyone can ever get. 

But no. Get this people.  

If I were normal, I’d have a boyfriend by now (according to all of them). 

If I were normal, I’d receive a proposal a few months down the line (according to them). 

And the biggest ‘if I were normal’ theory here is if I am normal, I wouldn’t be working for a boss who can easily make me a mistress and that would ruin my reputation (not that there is one).  

So, yes. I am not normal, and I don’t have a boyfriend.  

Sad but it’s true.  

“I didn’t look long enough to determine if they’re handsome.” I told Della instead. 

“Well, you should really look. You’re young and single. Men should be running after you.” 

“I’m not entirely sure I wanted to be chased around by men.” 

“We women always love a good chase. We especially like it if the men look gorgeous, too.”  

“You didn’t even go for just ‘good’, huh? It has to be gorgeous.”  

“You’re a good lookin’ youngin’. I expect a lot from you.” 

“I advise that you don’t do what my mother do.” 

“Suit yourself. I’ll be on the lookout if things start to get steamy.” 

“And who am I going to get steamy with? 

“That boss of yours of course. And maybe that journalist who’s been taking candid shots of you ever since he started coming in last week.”  

Says Della and she swayed her head to the left where she’s eyeing this guy with an expensive looking camera trained at me. He didn’t even look away. Odd. 

“It may not be me, you know. And if it were me, you’ve known this for a week and you didn’t tell me?” 

“Damn straight. The nice photographer even asked if you were my daughter. I laughed at it of course. If you were my daughter, you’d have dated him the minute he took the first picture.” 

“You are so weird. And I must say I feel a tad bit betrayed here.” 

“Oh, lighten up you mean little miss. He means no harm and if he did I would know.” 

“And how, pray tell, would you know?”  

“I asked him of course. He says he’s a photo journalist and he’s been looking for a beautiful subject.” 

“God. You are so conniving.” I eyed her meanly but alas! It did not deter her smile. 

“Finish your lunch. He’ll work up the courage to talk to you one of these days.” She said then stood up from my table and left.  

Della is weird. But most times, she’s already borderline crazy. I guess that seals it. I am a crazy. Birds with same feather flock together, right? Ugh. I’m yet again to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. 

My lunch has gone on normally and without any interruption from Della or that guy who’s taking my candid photos. I tried making horrible faces to try to get him to stop, but like most of the annoying occurrences in my life, he didn’t stop. I went back to the office 5 minutes before 1 though I’m expecting Mr. Alexandrov to be back by 2.   

The rest of the day went on without much drama. Except for when my boss came back from the sperm hospital (I call it that because that is what it really is) and he’s all cranky and ordering me around at a rapid-fire phase. It’s really a miracle that I can still keep up. But well, I’m the best at this and I’m actually enjoying my job. By 5 pm, I was still typing away in my laptop while printing documents from the desktop computer and I’m also phoning a lot of other executives, so I can update them of changes my boss wants made.  

By 6:30, the whole floor is practically barren except for me and my boss. I’m always home by 7 so I always take home most of the things that I need to finish. I closed my laptop. Placed it inside the bag, grabbed it and stood up. It’s time to go home. I looked out at the window and saw that it’s drizzling.  I should have brought an umbrella. I disregarded the showering outside and went to my boss’s door, knocked and poked my head inside.  

“Hey, boss. I’m heading home. You gonna be good?”  

“Oh. What time is it?” Sigh. Workaholic problems. They really don’t pay attention how much time they spend at the office.  

“It’s almost 7. Should I order a dinner for you or will you head home for dinner?”  

“I’m heading home. I’m almost done anyway. Take care.” He smiled my way and I nodded my good bye.  

I walked to the elevators and pressed going down. I dialed Mr. Alexandrov’s cook and told her that he’ll be heading home for dinner. I always do this although it’s no longer part of my job description. I got the cook’s number and I call her on regular basis about things that should be done in his home such as his dinner plans or his wardrobe requirements when his flying to somewhere or when he’s expecting guests (which is only ever his mother and father). I got this rule that his house is off limits for me, except for when I really need to go, so I got someone to do the things that should be done. And that someone is his trusted cook/cleaner/nanny. But really, she’s more of a nanny to the big baby.  

As I got out of the office, the drizzle became a full-blown typhoon. What the hell? The elevator ride didn’t take that long. Ugh. Now what do I do? I should really bring that ugly looking umbrella with me all the time. Since I really have no other options, I braved the torrent and tried hailing for a taxi. After 5 minutes of trying like hell to get a taxi to stop for me, I ran to Della’s to try to stay out of the rain. It’s so freaking cold now and I’m not liking it. It took me 10 more minutes to actually get a taxi. I had to share it with someone else and thank goodness, he lived across my building so the driver agreed.  

After getting home, I immediately stripped off my coat and I went to the kitchen and heated my fresh milk from the fridge. I didn’t change out of my blouse just yet, I sat on my ugly dining table that is a mismatch from everything that I own (I really don’t have anything owned that is matching). I sipped on my mug of hot milk with honey. I loved how it’s unclogging my already stuffy nose from being exposed to too much cold and not changing is really not helping my cause at all. After the milk, I took out a pizza box from the fridge and reheated it while I changed my clothes. I stepped out of the wet garments and wrapped a towel around myself. I took out the pizza prematurely and swore I’d continue heating when I’m done with my much-needed shower.  

After I’ve checked off shower and dinner off my list of things to do, I sat on my ever-comfy sofa that is as ugly as my dining table. I took out the laptop and continued the work that I’ve forfeited. After 2 hours of typing and sending emails and scheduling, I stretched my legs and placed it on top of my ugly coffee table and stared at the only ugly plant I own.  

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the only thing that listens to me and never judges all my errors (and believe me, I always make erroneous decisions). The cactus that is ever listening to me is still the only living thing that can survive with me. I tried raising a fish, but it died 2 nights after I decided to take care of it. I figured maybe I was just not a fish person, so I went and rescued a bird who stupidly slammed on my window. I attended to it for a couple days after eventually dying. And after a couple of months of decision-making, I fostered care for a hamster (I didn’t know until that time that you can actually foster care for hamsters) but alas, it too, just like all the other living things I tried to take care, died.  

To be honest, it permanently scared me off taking care of other things other than myself. The kind receptionist from the vet said maybe miniature animals weren’t for me, and she went on and suggested that I should maybe try fostering a cat and then work my way up for a dog.  

It literally ripped my chest open whenever each of those tiny little things died, so you might imagine my fright when I imagined a little cat or a huge dog dying under my care. I’d probably lose my s**t and go mental.  

So, after all the clusterfuck of dying I’ve surrounded myself for months, I decided to buy a cactus and I told this little living plant all my fears and secrets because it makes no judgements.  

And that was the best decision ever!  

Except for the low maintenance caring it needs (a once a week watering), it also takes up little space. It makes everything inside my house so dull as if it isn’t already as ugly.  

I stared at the thorny little thing and sneezed a couple time.  

Shit. 

I think I caught a cold. I should really doze early to rest it off before it plants deep into my weak lungs.  

That night, I slept restlessly and woke up a couple of times sneezing and coughing. 

This is not a good sign.