The Lawyer and The Stripper

04 | Freaky Friday

A few months have passed since that dreadful October wedding. Christmas and the New Year came and went as quickly as Seb inhaled his desserts and through it all, I was stuck with my reckless best friend who almost killed us that night he left our car teetering on the lip of the C5 flyover.

It turns out our bodyguards were the ones behind us: Rivas because it was his duty, and Pangan, Albert's bodyguard, because Blaise and my i***t brother coerced him. When my parents learned of the events leading to the accident, I ended up losing Rivas to Albert because Pangan resigned, deciding that he'd had enough of my ahia's tyranny, and leaving Albert without a guard was out of the question.

"Aren't you glad you're living like a normal teenager?"

Whenever he gets the chance, Seb never fails to insist that the reason I now have no security detail babysitting me was because of his ingenious 'tactic', which is an honest three-car-pile accident. There may have been some truth in that, and glad is an understatement of what I feel – to be alive and without a bodyguard, but I will never admit it.

"The only one not normal here is you, Seb."

He laughs and leans on the bench press, looking around the gym. Between basketball practices and keeping my grades up, college has been taxing, especially since I have him as a flatmate. My pre-law course isn't a walk in the park; it is a grueling duck walk around a booby-trapped army camp. I do not mind that except, every now and then, there is this clown who pops up at the most inopportune time to break my routine and concentration.

"Come on, calculus can wait. You're a math whiz anyway, what are you so worried about?"

I shake my head, knowing where the conversation is headed. "I need at least a 3.7 QPI to be on the Dean's List."

"Don't exaggerate. You only need a 3.35," he says. I narrow my already-narrow eyes at him.

"I only know because my sister insists I make mom happier by being on that stupid list, too," he defends. "God knows why people are so bent on graduating with honors. College is for going out and having fun, meeting people, and lastly, getting a degree."

"You don't understand," I grunt, pushing the weights off my chest.

"You're right, I don't," he sighs heavily while spotting me with the barbell. "Because you're way better than everyone else in your family, and they'd be idiots to not grab you for the firm you after you top the Bar Exams. If you planned on graduating a summa c*m laude, why'd you take Legal Management?"

"Such is life," I say, not wanting to talk about why I needed to be on that bloody list, and my plans once I graduate. Seb does not have to prove himself, and he does not have the urge to break free from the family business; he does not see the need. All he thinks is if he's good enough, to hell with everyone else and what they think. And as it is, he is more than good enough, that's why he hardly exerts any effort to improve, which is a crying shame.

Sometimes I wish I could stomach being mediocre. But then, I guess I'm not built that way and I thank God for that.

"Alright, I'm done."

"What? It hasn't been an hour!" Seb cries.

"As much as I want to flaunt my abs to the girls in the next room, I have an exam to study for," I tell him, grabbing my water bottle and towel before he could hold them hostage to make me stay. When he sees there is nothing for him to take, his shoulders drop.

"Whatever. Just don't forget about the party on Saturday," Seb reminds me for the third time this week.

After a quick shower, I head to Work Lab café to meet some friends to study together. I am not particularly eager to do study groups but Ken and Macky are alright. They don't talk when reading, so we could finish our coverage in one or two nights. Group study only sucks when Angelique and her clique are around because they gossip way too much.

The coffee shop is bustling with students when I arrive – standing in line for the cashier, waiting for their orders, table-hopping, and chatting, with less than half of the population actually reading. It is like being in the library, only, people are allowed to talk louder and have coffee.

I spot an empty sofa seat and table near the window and make a beeline to it, dumping my bag on the seat across to make sure I will not have to share it with a stranger. A guy gives me a stink eye when I plop on the chair but quickly looks away to scan the floor. If he wasted another second on me, he wouldn't have snagged the other empty seat by the stairs.

An hour passes without so much the shadow of my friends showing up and the seat across me remains cold with only my bag as its occupant. The café is filled with more busybodies and more chatter, but it doesn't break my concentration. I am down to the last chapter and, whether or not my classmates will show up, I'm leaving when I'm done as the dagger looks I've been getting are increasing in number and intensity, all because I saved a bloody seat.

Feeling the heat of their glares, I bow my head and start computing, concluding that I would let go of the seat as soon as the next person would ask for it. And just as I am one step away from finding the solution to my current calculus problem, a voice cuts through the noise, making me close my eyes in relief and annoyance.

"Hi, is this seat taken?"

Sighing, I muster the most polite smile and catch a pair of light brown eyes, captivating me. She gasps, smile faltering and eyes widening. She opens her mouth to say something when I feel hot liquid burning on my thigh.

"Ouch, dammit!" The brewed coffee spills on my thigh, leaving a sizeable brown blotch near the crotch of my light blue linen shorts as drops trickle down my leg, and soiling the newly washed white sneakers I have on. I try wicking the coffee off as she fumbles for something from her bag, and offers an entire pack of tissue to me.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she stammers, hesitating to help wipe off the mess, moving forward and then stepping back. She settles on drying the small splashes on my book and paper, her bag still on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault. I was just..." I was mesmerized by your eyes, I wanted to say, but that would have been absolutely creepy. "I was still thinking about the solution when I looked up. You were saying?"

"I... um. I'm sorry, never mind." Flustered, she adjusts her books in one arm and turns to leave.

"No, hey, wait a minute!" My knee bangs on the edge of the low table when I try to follow her, causing another splash of coffee on the table, this time, drenching my answer sheet.

"Now you've done it, Aiden," I scold myself as I stare at the mess. Instead of finishing calculus, I give up, clean up and leave.

⚖︎

Every night since then, I studied at Work Lab, hoping to catch a glimpse of that girl, or maybe even offer her a seat, but she hasn't returned since that Tuesday a week ago. A small part of me is disappointed that she hasn't come even to get coffee for take-out. I don't know what it is about her that makes me want to see her again. She barely said fifteen words and we hardly had eye contact, yet I come here each night, hoping.

Sighing, I sip on my coffee and return to writing a Philosophy paper on my laptop when my phone rings. Without looking, I know it's Seb, based on the ringtone. He insists to have a special ring and message alert tone since he's my best friend. It's an absurd request but one that I am thankful I heeded because now I can reject the call without checking the ID.

He stops after his third try. However, a few seconds later, Jaxx calls and I do not have the heart to ignore it. Instead of words, I am greeted by party music with deafening bass beats so loud I could start a party at my table in the café.

"Jaxx, I swear if Miguel –"

"So you do call me Miguel behind my back! And how dare you pick up Jaxx's call yet ignore all of mine," he chides. The music in the back fades away and the sound of chatter replaces it.

"Seb."

"Yes, that's me. Listen. There's a house party going on here in Blue Ridge and it's f*****g awesome! Get your ass here, pronto!"

"I have a paper –" I start to say, closing my eyes when he cuts me off.

"Due in five days. Five days, Chin! What the actual hell? It's Friday night and you're holed up in a café making a goddamn paper!" Seb berates.

"Chino, come on. You're going to miss half of your life if you don't come here. I promise you, this is the s**t everyone's going to be talking about until summer," Jaxx tries to convince me, his voice calm and taunting, making me think twice about my earlier decision.

"I don't know. My pick-up's at the condo and I'm not dressed to party."

"Ace'll be here. Cara and Val are on their way. You don't want to be left out now, do you?" Jaxx persuades me by using our friends and he was right to do so; he knows I couldn't resist being left out with them.

I wouldn't have cared if I missed out on Anderson's wedding or Carson's birthday. Albert could invite the entire country for his grand birthday celebrations and I wouldn't mind sleeping through the entire event. But with my friends, I would drop almost anything in a hot minute to join them.

"d**k," I concede, closing my laptop and packing my things. "Where is it exactly in Blue Ridge? And what sort of party is that?"

"It's the party of the year. Don't worry about driving, Ace'll be there any minute, you know, in case you still said 'no'," he says and I could hear him smiling. I chuckle, attempting to sit back down when Ace appears out of nowhere, dressed to impress.

"This place is packed for a Friday night. Is half of the people from your school nerds?" he asks, eyes skimming the café while wearing a smirk.

I roll my eyes, still smiling. "Says the computer geek who attends three semesters a year instead of two. Should I change?"

"Nah, you're okay. Are you looking to score though?" he turns to me and checks my outfit from head to toe.

"No, I'm not looking to score," I scoff at his crude question.

He tuts and shakes his head, putting his hand on my shoulder and leading me out. "The answer should be always in the affirmative, my boy. We need to change your mindset, and maybe changing your outfit will help."

Thirty minutes later, we alight his car two streets away from the party. Walking along the streets, the windows in the houses are dark and the neighborhood is quiet save for the bass thumping a few streets over. Cars line on one side of the road, all the way to our destination, and one would know they were driven by teenagers – lowered Honda civics, dressed up sedans, a red Miata sitting pretty behind a light blue Mitsubishi GT with a few enthusiast-sounding guys hovering about, inspecting.

As we draw closer, we meet more people outside, hanging by the cars, smoking cigarettes, others vomiting behind trees and shrubs, some girls crying, others dancing. The closer we get, the more teenagers we see, the more people Ace greets, like he is campaigning for office, making me wonder how he knew all these partygoers.

"Ace! It's nice to see you all the way here, man," a guy our age shakes Ace's hand firmly.

"Wouldn't have missed this for the world, bro. Have you seen Jaxx?"

"I think he was by the pool twenty minutes ago with a chick. Emily? Ginger?" the guy asks his friends, who all shrug and give various names of girls. Ace laughs and thanks him nevertheless, then we move from the garden into the humongous house with a screened porch.

The scene is straight out of a movie where the posh living room is transformed into a dance floor with the chandelier replaced with a disco ball, the furniture pushed to the sides and people smoking out or making out on them. Despite having enough chairs and recliners around, pretty girls in skin-tight dresses opt to sit on the lap of guys who look like trouble.

When we get to the kitchen, a thrilling game of beer pong is played on the island counter, boys versus girls, with the latter winning. The girl in a black spaghetti strap holds the blue ping pong ball in front of her, licking her lips as she aims for one of the cups across the table. The guys on the other side taunt and roar, pounding on the granite countertop like monkeys. One of them goes over to the girls' side and attempts to blow the ball as the girl releases it but fails to deflect the trajectory. It lands inside one of the red cups causing an uproar from the losing side and squeals from the girls.

"What the hell man? We can't lose to them!" A guy in a pale blue button-down complains. His hair remains perfectly styled even though his eyes are droopy and his cheeks are flushed.

"And what's wrong with losing to us?" A girl leads the retort and the others agree, nodding their heads. "Your ego can't take being beaten by a girl?"

Hearing her taunt the guys makes me chuckle and I could tell she hit a nerve when some of them puff their chests, yet vehemently deny the allegation.

"Nah, I think Jerome here is just fouling up our game. How about a change of players?" another guy in a black polo shirt speaks up, and I recognize him as our basketball team's center, Pancho. He looks less flushed and more composed than Jerome, the guy in light blue.

"Alright, two on two?" the girl asks. For someone so short, black spaghetti strap girl commands the room with ease, looking at the spectators as if she were selecting a player for the next round of Street Fighter.

"One on one," Pancho answers. His eyes roam the area, looking for his best player, turning down the few guys who offered to take the challenge. His brows remain furrowed until his line of sight lands on us.

"Ace! What're you doing all the way up here, bro? The greenery around Taft Avenue not good enough for you?" Pancho shouts over the crowd.

"Heard eagles were having a boring as f**k party, you needed an archer to point you in the right direction. Though I must say, seeing beautiful women drown your blue balls in alcohol is a show worth getting marooned for," Ace puns, using the school colors and mascots of the different rival universities present in the room, his own and mine included.

"Well, aren't you a cheeky son of a b***h," Pancho chuckles. "Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is."

"I'd love to, but I've to go to find a friend before he does something stupid. Chino here will take my place, though. Right, bud?" Ace says louder than necessary, sneakily escaping the trap instead of stepping to the plate.

"What? No!" Loud cheers from the men's team drown my complaint as Pancho pulls me in, securing one arm around my shoulder.

"Look who the archer brought us. I didn't know you fancied these kinds of parties, Gochino. I haven't seen you in any," my teammate sneers.

"I don't. I haven't been to one."

"Consider this your welcoming party then." His smile stretches out as he slaps my back a few times, and I feel a little dread seeping into my veins. The look on his face reminds me of Albert's smirk before he harasses me. He has the same menacing spark in his eyes, making me dread what's to come.

"Player one, set," Pancho dramatically slams his hand on the invisible buzzer on the table before looking up to the opposition. "Audrey, you ready?"

"Player one, set," black spaghetti strap girl, Audrey, does the same hand slam and giggles. "Round one, start!"

I take a white plastic ball from Pancho, lean forward, and prepare to shoot it into one of the center cups. Aiming, I test the angle three times before releasing the ball completely with a flick of my wrist. It lands inside the cup with dark amber liquid, making me grin. The girl across me curses, takes the solo cup and knocks the drink back. She swallows hard, wiping the corner of her mouth with her fingertips.

My heart rate picks up as I get caught in her every move – the way she flicks her hair before gathering it into a messy bun, how her hips and the rest of her body sway to the music, how her smile falters, how her red lips part and her light brown eyes widen when they lock with mine.

My heart skips. I finally found her.