Zayn Andrei

"Brother, have you been shopping?" Sabi ni Tres habang nakikisilip sa papel na binabasa ko. My monthly billing statement issued by DP Bank is suspiciously and excessively high, the fact that I seldom use it because I prefer debit over credit. "What are those things you purchased that are worth over three million?"

I wish I know the answer. My eyes went down to the second column of the billing report, and it narrowed to the bold all capital letters PRADA.COM on the right side is the amount I spent on that website.

"Wow? You bought a franchise?" Tres didn't leave my side. He started laughing, calling out for Dave's attention. "Dude, look at this. ZA went online shopping at Prada.com. I mean, how's that sounds?"

"Seriously, man?" Dave comes up to us, curiously taking the paper away from my hand for him to see.

"There must be a glitch," I said before realization sank into me. "Or..."

"Or Paris Hilton run your credit card?" Tres supplied suggestively.

It can be that, too—kinuha kong muli ang papel nang ibalik 'yon sa akin ni Dave. Nalingunan namin si Red na kabababa lamang ng telepono at naglalakad na pabalik sa pool table. I kept the bill back to the envelope and tossed it over the nearby table. I took a swig on my beer and stood up from the stool.

"But seriously, man. You have to get that whole insane shit figured out. Three million isn't a joke."

Oh, he doesn't have to worry about it. I already have it figured out. Camille is clever. Clever is the devil. And the devil wears fucking Prada. There I solved the puzzle like Detective Sam Spade.

Red stood on the corner of the table, positioning his black cue stick to strategically pocket the lows. We've been playing Stripes and Solids for nearly an hour now. It's Red and me versus Tres and Dave. And not once did they win those three games. With Red playing like fucking Earl Strickland? I don't think they'll ever win.

"This game's boring," he declared like a king after he finished the fourth game with an impeccable shot. He placed the cue stick back in the stall.

"Oo na, Red. Naiintindihan na namin." Tres snickers. "Sige na, puntahan mo na girlfriend mo. Halata naman na kanina ka pa hindi mapakali."

I fought the urge to laugh. Dave, on the other hand, shamelessly did. Red's been about Chiara De Salvo lately. I'm trying to ignore the fact that they're becoming inseparable. I'm not sure I can wrap it in my head that Red is slowly turning dependent on someone.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said before he started walking out of the room.

"Alright, if you say so." Habol pa ng pang-aasar ni Tres. Nang mawala ito ay bumaling siya sa amin ni Dave. "No one would buy that. Even the blind could tell they're boyfriend-girlfriend."

"And it's entirely none of your business," natatawang sabi ko sa kanya. Sasagot pa sana siya nang tumunog ang aking cellphone. Kaagad ko iyong kinuha mula sa aking bulsa.

Unknown number, but fucking Siri is better than NBI.

Maybe: Camille Syanna Velez

And what does Bellatrix Lestrange want? I hit the green button, raised the phone to my ear, and walked towards the open slides through the balcony.

"Hi, Vladislav!" She's beaming. Why wouldn't she? Goddamn thief milked me. Now I'm indebted to over three million pesos. "I'm guessing you know better now than to mess with me."

Fucking spoiled brat. "Yeah, what do you need?"

"Nothing, just wanna check on you. Everything cool?"

"Yeah, Miranda Priestly, it is."

"Oh, did you fall and smack your little head on the pavement?" She laughed, just like how evil does it. "It's Camille Syanna, sweetheart. Anyway, thanks again for everything. Now we've established I love anything Prada. Ciao."

She didn't wait for my response. She cut the line. Too bad for her; she missed my warning from Prada to Nada.

I hate Camille Syanna Velez. I'm not too fond of spoiled brats. I hate trust fund babies who act like they own the fucking world. Those who snap their fingers and boom, everything they want is being handed right before them. I'm not bitter. For instance, I'm dealing fine with rich, privileged dudes, Red and Dave. They're filthy rich but don't act like everyone around them owes them something.

Camille is another thing. The woman is capricious, materialistic, and selfish. She's insanely in love with herself. If she'd be charging people three million pesos every time they accidentally step on her shoes, she'd bankrupt everyone. Most likely, the whole nation would agree to Ted Bundy her.

Nang bumalik ako sa loob ay naroon pa rin si Dave at Tres nagpapatuloy sa paglalaro. An idea crossed my mind. I walked into the fridge and grabbed another bottle of beer, settling at one stool, watching them.

"Dave, what are the plans you have for the auction?" I asked casually, drinking my beer. Dave's family owns a foundation, Mondragon Foundation, which basically focuses on medical attention and needs for people in rural areas.

"Oo nga, Dave. And what's the auction about?" Tres hit a follow-up question.

"Antiques from my grandmother's house and Mom's collection of paintings." He said, bending in the corner of the table and aiming for a shot. He missed. That earned laughter from us and a curse from him.

"Tita Div's paintings? She's letting go of those?" Tres started circling the table looking for a good angle to take.

"That surprised me too. I've asked her several times. Even Dad asked her if she was sure about it. Those are her prized possession. Some of those paintings are even older than mine. But she said at some point in life, we all have to let go of something we'd like to hold onto forever." He shrugged, taking the seat beside me since it doesn't look like Tres will be taking a shot anytime soon.

"So, just the antiques and the paintings. How many funds do you need to raise?" I asked again.

"If you're asking me if the Charity Dating idea of my mother is off, it's not. The idea is still on fire, and you're free to join and help us if you've changed your mind." He said.

Noong nakaraang araw ay nabanggit sa akin 'yon ni Dave. Tinanong niya ako kung papayag ako sa Charity Dating na gagawin sa event. I didn't give him a definite answer since I'm not sure if I'd be able to attend the fundraising event. But now, color me interested.

"Is Chiara gonna be there?"

"Horndog, if she'll ever gonna be there, you're not gonna be the lucky one to dick her down, and you know why's that." Tres shoot me a glare. I chuckled, raising both my hands in the air. Here comes the panther protecting the lion's territory, cute. Chi's gorgeous, but I'm not interested, just as I'm not interested in having all my bones crushed into powder. "Come on, man. We don't do that here."

"You can calm your ass down, Bruce Banner," I said, still laughing. "I'm asking if Chiara's going to be in the lineup for Charity Dating. And also her friends, Nisha and Camsy?"

"No, Chi's not in the lineup. I asked Nisha about it, and she's down for it. Anything she could do to help, you know how kindhearted that girl is. But our friend here," he stood up, walking towards Tres, who missed his shot. He squeezed his shoulder. "Don't want to include the angel in the lineup."

"Woah," that earned a surprised laugh from me. "What's going on? Are you hot for her? Dude, spare her. She's too sweet for your games."

"I'm not hot for her," he snapped. "I'm her bodyguard. If she is ever in the lineup, maniacs will party. I'm not going to throw millions to save her ass in the situation, so I better stop the 'situation' from happening."

Okay, I'll pretend that didn't sound a little too defensive. Dave shrugged. "But that's okay. The bodyguard here compensated for the loss of one name in the lineup."

"Now that's interesting," I emptied my bottle and leaned my back at the counter with both elbows resting on top, looking directly at him. "I didn't know you're a superhero kind of dude. I wonder how many elderly women and gays are going to bid for you, hot meat."

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. "Many Nisha will bid for me if not the-she-angel-herself."

"If you say so." I looked at Dave again. "Is Camsy going to be a part of the Charity Dating?"

"Dude, you're really asking me that question? Didn't you know who Camille Syanna is?" Dave said incredulously.

"She's Madonna. She's not down to it. She's in love with herself and thinks no one's ever going to be perfect for her. So, why would she agree to auction herself out and let the public bid for her?" Kunot-noong sabi ni Tres. "But, no, wait, actually, this material girl living in a material world thinks someone is perfect, and someone is deserving of her."

Dave and I exchanged glances. He smirked like he already had a clue about it. "Oh, how did I not think of that? Zanti! Madonna is crazy about Zanti Dela Paz!"

"Okay," I cleared my throat. I stood up and walked towards the pool table. Now that I know my plan has a chance, I'm confident to discuss it. "I'm gonna tell you something, and I'll be needing your help."

That instantly picked their interest. I started telling Tres and Dave the story of where it began and how I ended up neck-deep indebted. As soon as I finished the tale, a bark of laughter filled the room. Wow, humor that's based on my problem.

"You should've known better than to mess with her," Tres said, still not done laughing. "That woman is evil. She may not have thorns and tail, but she's evil."

"Classic, Camsy." Dave started shaking his head.

"And for the record, I didn't mean to step on her Louboutin. People are hurrying out behind me, and she's strutting in front of me like she owns the world. I was playing the gentleman card that night, so I didn't shout at her to hurry. It ended up with me dirtying the back of her high heels, again, not my intention." I defended myself. "And about the recent incident, dude, the dirt is barely there. She overreacted. And besides, I went all the way to squatting in front of her, indulging her by wiping it off. Still not enough."

"Not surprised. Camille Syanna is synonymous with a brat. Check the dictionary if it's already updated because it should be since it's been that way for twenty-one years." Dave said.

"It's not right to act like you own the world," I hate that I sounded like a values teacher for elementary students. "And if I let this go without meaning to correct her behavior, who knows what's gonna happen next time?"

"You have a point. You better tap that ass." Tres said, I'm not sure if he's serious about it, but I am. "Bad, bad girl."

"Okay, so here's the plan."

•••

From the dark corner of the hall, I watched how people applauded as Safe Castañeda walked into the stage, winning the bid for Francis Bacon's Three Studies of Lucian Freud painting after bidding ninety million pesos. It's for him to take home. Apparently, based on Tita Divina's earlier speech about the painting, she got it from an auction at Christie's in New York for over a hundred million dollars. So, Safe still got it cheap. I don't understand these rich people. They might be having trouble thinking about how to spend their money.

That's the last painting being auctioned tonight. The antiques were already sold out in the first part of the event. And now, down to the final and the highlight of the night. The Charity Dating. A smug smile curved my lips, sipping on the glass of brandy in my hand.

My plan will work.
My plan should work.

After a few special intermission numbers from hired performers, Katrina Maximus, Dave's girlfriend and the host of tonight's event, walked back on the stage to announce that the Charity Dating was about to start.

"She's a tough job, but I already convinced her and talked her into it. She's backstage with other participants." Dave quietly said as he passed through me. He went back to his seat beside his mother on the first row.

I was standing the whole night, waiting for things to happen. I played with the ice left on my glass. My other hand shoved inside the pocket of my slacks. People started bidding for the first participant out.

Latika Addams is an art curator. I didn't know her. I just heard from the introduction. The woman sold for three hundred thousand in less than ten minutes. Ask me again why rich people would spend that much for one date. I have no fucking idea.

Another two ladies are being sold before Tres walked out, wearing a silver tuxedo. My brother is set to turn the hall on fire. I want to laugh. The first bid came from a woman in her early fifties, a widow perhaps. She bid half a million. That's nice. Now we know he could make a fortune out of his charm. The next one is man, probably around the age of the first bidder. He doubled it. And now, I'm seriously laughing. I can't help but remember what I told him about gays and elders. A few more bids after that came from women of different ages, younger and older.

"Two million,"

I looked at Nisha, raising the bid card. She flushed. This girl is allergic to the spotlight, and now everyone's looking at her. I also remembered how smug Tristan is about it, that she angel herself would bid.

"Sold," the participant himself shouted. A smirk is plastered on Tristan's face.

Whatever these two are doing, it's their business. What's important is my plan to work.

And there she goes, coming out off the stage. My plan. Her blonde curls tied unruly behind her head, showing so much of that pretty face. Yes, hard to admit, but the devil is undeniably beautiful. Those pair of brown eyes are hard to ignore, button nose that, if you look closely, you'd see tiny freckles across the bridge and plump lips in peach tone. Expensively dressed up in vintage red—the Goldie Hawn kind of pretty, wicked, and evil.

"Four hundred thousand," the fat dude from the far corner table was her first bidder.

I moved my eyes back to watching her. She didn't even try to hide her grimace. She mouthed her favorite word, eew.

"Six hundred thousand," another gentleman raised his card, a little younger than the first one, but I could say still not her type.

"Seven hundred thousand," a much older guy shouted from the other side of the hall. He's a divorced business tycoon, from what I heard.

I looked back to the stage. Camille rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Like it's for her to decide where she'd fall tonight. Too bad for her and the Jimmy Choo she's wearing. I have a plan—a plan for her.

"A million," a card raised from a frontline. Zanti Dela Paz.

She could squeal and beam, shout for glee, whatever. But no, she's not getting what she wants this time.

"One point five!" The divorced maniac looks like he's willing to sell his arm off just for a date with a witch.

Zanti looked back to see who the bidder was. He disapproved and raised the card again. "Two M."

Few seconds of silence. Camille is already celebrating on stage. It's her dream coming true, only I'm the jackass she messed with.

I stepped out of the dark, reaching for the bid card from the nearest table. I raised it. "Doubled."

The spotlight hit me, along with the eyes of everyone. I saw Zanti shrug and put his card down, resigning from the battle.

If this dickwad divorced maniac doesn't let go of it, he'll have to fight me. I watched Camille turn horrified, shaking her head no. No, witch, it's not for you to decide.

"Sold," Dave announced, doing his part.