by Tara Frejas
“You’re probably mistaking me for someone else.”
“You know what, I thought so too!” he said with a little laugh. “But I still remember your name, Audrey. We met in Ortigas last month. Taxi stand, Carbon Bar, red dress—any of these ring a bell?”
Something clicked in her head, and all of a sudden, scenes from that night flashed before her eyes.
“Shit. No.”
“Yes!” And there it was again, that happy smile that made Pio seem like a puppy waiting to be taken home. He held his hand out for a handshake. “Hi!”
“I’m not supposed to see you again.”
A pause. He drew his hand back and buried it in his jeans pocket, making Audrey want to kick herself for being so rude. But she was reeling, realizing she had divulged too much information to this man—what’s a girl to do?
Hello, earth—would you be so kind as to swallow me whole now? Thanks!
“Well…small world?”
She groaned.
“Audrey, listen. If you’re—”
They both turned their heads when the meeting room door swung open. Marj poked her head in, reminded Audrey of her four o’clock conference call, and slipped back out.
Thanks to the momentary distraction, Audrey was able to grab her things and flee. But just like a stray puppy, Pio followed her and blocked the door before she could reach for the knob.
“Audrey, I don’t understand why you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m embarrassed, okay? Happy?” she snapped. “Now let me through.”
“Why are you mad?” The look on Pio’s face shifted from happy to confused. “I was just really happy to see you again. I’d been worried about you since that night.”
“Worried why?”
“Because I didn’t have your number and I had no way of knowing if you got home safe?”
“Oh.”
She didn’t know what else to say, but he did. “Your concept sounded really fun. I’m looking forward to working with you, Audrey.”
This time, she took the hand he offered—warm, firm, and enormous around hers. The mesmerizing twinkle in his eyes took her back to that night a month ago. Babe, he had called her. I’m sorry. Let’s go home, he had said. At the time, the words didn’t quite sink in. Recalling it—and everything else—now made her heart skip a beat.
“T-thanks. Me too.”
“And if you’re worried about the things you said, don’t.” He flashed her a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
This can’t be good.
THREE
P io liked out-of-town trips. To someone who’s lived in the city all his life, the rural lifestyle offered a change of pace. Also, great food and fresh air.
He was in Baguio City today, a good five-to-six-hour drive from Metro Manila, to begin filming a short web series for Abracadabra Coffee. This morning’s set was at Ili-Likha Artists Village, or, as he’d like to call it, a magical nook created by fairies and elves.
Deceptively mediocre at first glance, Ili-Likha’s scrap wood and metal façade was a little too low-key that Pio actually drove past it that morning. Little did he know that an entirely different world awaited him the moment he stepped inside.
Two paths greeted anyone who entered—the one on the left led down to Café Cueva, and the path on the right led to a flight of steps. He went up the steps and was welcomed by a small kiosk selling various flowers in vibrant colors. Well, good morning to you too, Baguio.
And that was just the beginning.
Before they began rolling at 9:00 a.m. sharp, Pio went on a quick tour of this charming art-and-food village built around old, overgrown trees. He went shutter-happy, taking photos of the wooden Igorot sculptures while following the wood-and-colored-tile signs that led to food stalls serving interesting dishes. He marveled at the tree trunks and branches jutting through the flooring. And don’t even get him started on the stained-glass windows.
Everything was so Instagram-worthy, he found himself updating his account several times just to show everyone how delightfully over-the-top the place was.
“Pio.” The walkie-talkie sitting on top of his script came alive with Audrey’s voice. “I hope you’re not giving away anything about the concept of our shoot on your social media accounts.”
He picked up the device, pressed the talk button and spoke into it. “Of course not. You can follow me on Instagram if you want to check.”
“No, thanks. I tend to avoid social media.”
“Oh. But why?”
“Because it’s a blackhole?”
Pio looked past the cameras in front of him and saw Audrey standing a few feet away—one hand on her hip, the other holding the walkie-talkie to her lips—watching something on the video assist monitors. The director of photography was there too, perhaps to review the footage they’ve shot so far.
Watching Audrey work fascinated Pio. She was, for lack of a better word, badass.
Because if this project were a ship, she was its capable captain. Rarely had he worked with a producer who supervised her team with this much grace under pressure. She was cool-headed too, unlike some producers he’d worked with whose default reaction to things not going their way is a string of curses, yelled out in full volume.
Some things didn’t go Audrey’s way today—a hitch on the lighting equipment and a misunderstanding about their work permit threatened their schedule—but not once did she raise her voice at anyone although she was clearly frustrated.
Instead, she called her key people in for a quick huddle, which resulted to an immediate workaround. Thanks to Audrey’s take-charge attitude and her crew’s efficiency, what Pio thought was going to cause a huge delay on their timetable got solved within an hour. He was impressed.
Professional and competent, he thought, observing Audrey as she discussed something with the DOP. How sexy.
She wore a satisfied look on her face when she grabbed the megaphone and announced, “Good work so far, everyone! Now grab something to eat—we’ll be rolling again in two hours!”
A little over six months ago, Pio Alvez’s career went on a downward spiral.
Days before filming began for the Pio Alvez-Liezl Escueta launching movie, the actress’ agency released a statement confirming rumors about her pregnancy. That Pio was not the father left AlvezCueta shippers livid.
A stressful several days followed for both actors, their agencies, and Crescent Moon Films, the outfit producing the movie. Phones rang endlessly as negotiations happened left and right. In the end, Crescent Moon decided to pull the plug on the production, saying there was no point releasing a movie people won’t be willing to spend money on.
Although Pio felt like it was an unfair decision, he couldn’t blame them. After all, the “love team” was sacred in Philippine pop culture. Fans become so impassioned by on-screen couples that they often wish for an eventual reel-to-real ending. Circumstances like this, however, are akin to a death sentence. As soon as fans jump ship, the love team sinks into oblivion, sometimes taking the actors’ respective careers with them.
Unfortunately, this was how the fallout affected Pio’s career. After the movie was cancelled, a number of his joint projects with Liezl bit the dust. His jam-packed calendar suddenly looked bare, and although he knew this wasn’t the end of the road for him, he fell into a funk.
That was when he started running.
It was his eldest brother, Isagani, who noticed the drastic shift in his disposition and insisted he “clear his mind.” Isagani literally dragged Pio out of the house for a run one day, and though the younger Alvez ended up sore after several laps, he couldn’t deny the lightness he felt afterward.
It became a habit.
He was running now, on a foggy stretch of road outside his Tita Conching’s house at Camp 7. The sun was barely awake, but light from the horizon was bright enough to guide him down the dirt path. As his feet moved in sync with the steady pulse of the music plugged into his ears, Pio enjoyed the scent of fresh
pine carried along by the crisp morning breeze.
Visions of horseback rides, strawberry pancakes, and randomly picked flowers flashed in his mind, followed by the image of his mother’s teary smile. His running shoes drove into the dirt when he came to an abrupt halt, as though continuing the course would take him to a place he’d rather not be.
He shook his head, an attempt to rid himself of that last shred of memory, but instead, his mother’s face became Liezl’s.
Then, Audrey’s.
And as if the visions weren’t enough, Pio began to hear sobs.
Cursing under his breath, he sprinted down the path and ignored how his lungs begged for air. He stopped only when he felt a sharp pain shoot up the side of his head.
Something hit him. Hard.
Pio groaned, hand flying to the offended spot just above his eyebrow.
“Holysh—who’s there?”
At the sound of that voice, Pio’s eyes fluttered open, blurring the images of the dirt path and pine trees in front of him until they were completely erased. What the...
Right. He had felt drowsy after dinner and returned to the crew tent for a nap.
But if he had been dreaming all this time, why did his head hurt?
“Who are you?”
Pulling the blanket off his head, Pio revealed half of his face to the owner of the voice. It was Audrey, standing a few steps away, holding an umbrella Pio supposed she was ready to attack him with just in case.
“Oh my god! What are you doing here? Didn’t you have dinner with everyone else?”
Pio rubbed over his eyes and sat up on the folding bed, the movement causing something to roll off the folds of his blanket. A smartphone. Thankfully, his reflexes were reliable enough to save it from falling against the gravel.
“I’m going to assume this is yours.” He held up the device. Audrey stepped forward to grab it, but Pio caught her wrist instead.
“It...slipped out of my hand!” she squeaked, averting her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Light inside the crew tent shone right behind Audrey’s head, making it seem like she had a halo. Squinting for a better view of her face, Pio realized she had been crying again. Were those her sobs he heard?
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. May I please have my—”
With a gentle twist, he held her hand face up and placed the phone on her palm. “If you wanted to wake me up, you could’ve just nudged me or something.”
Audrey clutched the phone to her chest and took a step back. “I thought you were with everyone else…”
“I was, but I came back here to take a nap.”
“Shit. I am so sorry.”
Pio stretched his arms over his head and yawned, then smoothed down his product-filled hair. He caught Audrey stealing a glance at her phone before pocketing it.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for the backpack lying at the foot of the folding bed. He unzipped the bag and looked through his things. When she didn’t reply, Pio looked up to check if she was still there.
She was. But she looked…lost.
“You gotta agree you at least owe me a little conversation.” He flashed her a grin. If Audrey didn’t want to talk about what it was that made her cry, maybe he could try to make her smile? “I mean, I think you gave me a mild concussion or something.”
“Is there a bump?”
“Do you wanna check?”
“You have hands.”
“Oh, but—” Pio made a show of rummaging through his bag. “They’re busy.”
Pio bit the insides of his cheeks, trying to keep himself from laughing when Audrey sighed in exasperation. Soon, her small framed hovered over him, and her slender index finger lifted his chin. She cringed upon seeing the “damage.”
“We need to ice this.”
“That bad?”
“It’s the size of a peso coin,” she replied. “It’ll show on screen. Damn it.”
“Chocolate?”
Her brows were knitted together when their gazes met. Pio could almost hear her wonder what the hell he was up to. Still smiling, he showed her a chocolate bar he had pulled out of his bag. He began unwrapping it.
“Mom’s remedy for my mood swings,” he said. “That was years ago, of course. Now I just carry a bar or two around. For emergency purposes.”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t like chocolate?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then? You...don’t like me.”
“What are you trying to do?”
The way Audrey uttered the words reminded Pio of someone who thought she was being pranked when he asked her out on a date. Was meeting women who didn’t trust men going to be a running theme in his life?
“Listen, Audrey. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about whatever it was that compelled you to hurl—accidentally, of course—a phone at me. But I was here, okay? And I can’t...” He paused, sighed. “I can’t just pretend I didn’t hear anything.”
Her eyes softened and relaxed, encouraging Pio to try again. He beckoned to her, patting the space he made for her on the folding bed. She didn’t refuse this time around, but he sensed her reluctance, even when she took the chocolate bar he offered.
So much could be heard in silence, he always believed. Even now, this—Audrey keeping an of inch space between them, staring at her knees while nibbling on a modest piece of dark chocolate—told him a lot. At the moment, he decided he liked drunk Audrey a little more, if only for her candor.
“Hey.” He dangled an earbud near her face. “Want to listen to some music?”
She looked like she was ready to say no, but she took the earbud anyway and plugged it in her ear. Pio put the other one on and placed his phone on her lap, telling her to pick a song from his music library.
“What’s this?” Audrey asked upon finding an unnamed album after scrolling through his collection.
“Oh. Rehearsal pieces. I recorded tracks from some of my shows.”
She tapped on a song entitled Dalangin and let the music play for a few seconds before asking him where it was from.
“That’s from Hanggang Ulap. Teatro Lakambini.”
“Pretty. But devastating.”
Pio nodded. “It is. You need something happier.”
“Like what?”
He leaned closer and scrolled through the tracks, tapping over a track called Keep This Heart, a playful, midtempo song played entirely on a ukulele. Judging by the hint of a smile he spied on Audrey’s face, he’d say she liked it.
“And what’s this from?” she finally asked, the fingers of her free hand drumming over her knee.
“Almost Love, Alistair Productions. This was a while back, before showbiz happened.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”
While the bright, airy melody flowed from verse to verse, Audrey closed her eyes. Pio let himself study her face some more—her long, dark lashes, the elegant slope of her nose, her full lips. Her lips.
He bit his bottom lip hard, chastising himself for even going there. Averting his gaze, he resorted to scanning the various objects that cluttered the crew tent. A portable makeup stand, a rack of clothes, bags strewn together on one corner...
A gentle pat on the shoulder caused him to turn his head. The song was over.
“Thank you.” Audrey wore a faint smile, making her face look a little brighter. “I feel better now.”
Pio only smiled at her in return.
FOUR
“P io, I’m sorry. We’ll have to shoot that last sequence one more time,” Audrey spoke into the walkie-talkie in her hand. “The light was too bright on your face.”
“Copy that.”
“Last shot for the night, don’t worry.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m all yours for three days, so.”
“...right. Stay put. We start in a few.”
At 3:25 a.m., the only other foreign
noise anyone could hear was the humming of crickets coming from Ili-Likha’s backyard. But though the rest of Baguio City seemed to be asleep at this hour, their set bustled with movement. The lighting crew adjusted their equipment while the director of photography reviewed her shot list. Marty, the stylist and makeup artist, rushed over to Pio for a retouch. Marj wove through the maze of wires and equipment, delivering cups of coffee to anyone who needed a caffeine fix.
While watching the monitors, Audrey saw Pio laughing as Marty ran a make-up brush along the bridge of his nose. The brush must have tickled, or Marty could have blurted out a joke. Either way, seeing Pio laugh so heartily even after hours of filming was refreshing, especially since Audrey had already gotten used to working with talents who weren’t this pleasant.
It appeared her industry colleagues weren’t exaggerating when they said Pio Alvez was a joy to work with. The actor was a consummate professional who hasn’t (yet) let fame go to his head. He came prepared, didn’t ooze arrogance through his pores, and always found a way to keep the working environment light.
Like now, when Pio took a selfie with his phone and pulled Marty into the frame with him. Audrey was sure Marty’s knees have turned into jelly, considering the huge crush he had on the actor.
“Pio, are you ready?” she asked through the walkie-talkie, eyes on the CAM2 monitor showing a tight shot on Pio’s face.
“Yes, Audrey,” came his reply. And as though he knew which monitor she was looking at, he winked straight at CAM2. Audrey felt as if she had just knocked back an espresso shot.
She cleared her throat and nodded at the assistant director.
“Quiet on the set! We’re rolling in three, two—”
The first good morning text she had received in months came from Pio Alvez.
Good morning, Audrey, this is Pio. I got your number from Marj. Please don’t be mad at her! I made kulit until she gave in. Looking forward to today’s shoot!
