cruel affections

i almost spilled the wine that i was drinking, not because it was too exotique for my uninitiated tongue, but for what my friend -- marcheska argenta -- just confided in me. gorgeous in a red alexander mcqueen feather-embellished dress that reminded me of what kate middleton once wore in a charity event, her pitch black, lush shoulder-length hair simply tied at the back, with nary a make-up except for a pink lipstick, marcheska told me that she is depressed because she could not get out of town.

"you of all people," i blurted out. this is marcheska we're talking about. the shipping, food, retail and real estate heiress. "what happened?"

she took a deep breath first. looked at her newly painted pink nails, a nervous gesture, and raised them up so she could examine them well. then she smiled at me. a lame smile.

"well my parents have stopped sending me an allowance. they want me to get a job soon, earn my keep or just marry rich tycoon who has been stalking me for years. my bank account is running dry. my credit cards are all overdue. so how can i get out of the country to spend the christmas holidays in some city that doesn't remind me of christmas?"

"but why do you want to get out during the holidays? didn't you always spend them with your family? didn't you always have this huge clan reunion in some resort in the south for a week? where your equally gorgeous and wealthy cousins  that came as far away as switzerland and russia come home to get drugged, drunk and what ever decadent things that you could all do together?"

"well..."

"well what?"

"and where in the world can you go that doesn't celebrate or even remind you of christmas? even communist china is now big on christmas! look at their malls."

instead of answering me, she called the waiter and ordered another glass of sangria. we were having dinner at a cozy spanish restaurant famous for its paellas (what else?) and cochinillo (we did not order it. diet restrictions. her.). we simply had the paella negra that looked black as midnight because of the squid ink, gambas al ajilo and tabla de sardinas . that's all. actually, she barely touched her food even if she was the one footing the bill. she insisted on always paying for our meals and drinks. anyway, she had more money that one could ever imagine even if she was complaining about being short of cash.

"i have this craving to travel because most of our friends are out of town. they have posted their photos on their igs. some even displayed them on facebook."

"so what?!"

the waiter arrived with her fresh glass of sangria, her fourth, i think. i lost count. good thing neither of us is driving. anselmo is with us. her young yet reliable driver and body guard. in his late twentys, handsome in a military officer way, fit as a fiddle. barely talking. never smiles. scary. but i know that somewhere down there, there is a baby crying out for mama's milk. one of these days, i thought.

"well it's kind of depressing that all of them are in venice, paris, stockholm, crete, venus and even in the moon....and i am stuck in manille's horrible holiday traffic, pollution, filth, decaying smell and occasional flooding. all these social media whores with their photos having fun are making it worse. i am beginning to have facebook and instagram envy."

"if you put it that way...yes. i understand."

after our dinner, i ended up more depressed than marcheska and resolved not to open my facebook until after the chinese new year on january thirty-one. meanwhile, anselmo was extra sweet tonight. he gave me a smile and a wink when i got off the car. could it be?????????? hmmmm.....

maybe next time, anselmo.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

the next day, while i was still lounging in lalaland enjoying the company of three greek adonises in their  birthday suits pampering me with their smoldering touches and torching my soul with their kisses, marcheska called, cutting short my rendezvous into the other, libidinous realm that's perfect for an anne rice novel when she was writing under the pen name anne rampling (remember the horrible exit to eden novel? no? go refresh your memories. better yet go back to college, faggot!).

"yes?!"

"are  you awake?"

"no."

laughter. i looked at the clock on the brown mahogany table beside my queen-size bed. two thirty. but i was not sure if it was early morning or early afternoon. all the curtains in the room were drawn, so it was as dark as an apocalyptic night with the famished zombies ready to devour my flesh, including my large and small intestines, kidney stones and frozen heart. i switched on the tiny philippe starck lamp.

"have  you seen the news?"

"you know i don't watch teevee."

"no. newspaper. bitch! our dear friend anna kerenina landifa has been busted in a  club, apparently too high on something to ever notice what she was doing. well she made a scene, broke several bottles and glasses, got into cat fights with other wanna be socialites. poor girl. always the outsider even if she is currently the most famous celebrity in tinseltown."

"pictures?"

"i'll send some. somebody sent them to me. but they did not come from me."

"lovely! this is how we usually start our day when we were in college. remember?"

"totally. nothing preps up the day than a scandal and a gossip to match about our frenemies."

a few seconds later, i saw the photos on my iphone.

"oh my god! she looked horrible. and what happened to her dress?! are these her boobs? they're sagging already! i thought she had just visited her artiste slash cosmetic surgeon lesbian lover."

more laughters. i sent them to other friends with a warning: they did not come from me. soon they will end up in some gossip web sites, blogs and the mainstream media. this will be her end, i sighed.

"apparently, they were horribly done. a bad boob job. or should i say a failed uplifting project."

hahahaha.

"what should we do?" i asked, now totally awake, but still lying in bed. i felt thirsty so i rang the bell.  one of my maids came in with a glass of nearly frozen water and a cleansing juice. after she put down the glasses on another table, she walked out hurriedly. she knew my routine.

"nothing." came her fast reply. i could imagine her wicked smile, her bewitching eyes glowing with satisfaction. i could even see her curly hair celebrating in glee. marcheska and anna kerenina landifa were not exactly friends. especially now that marcheska is in a near poverty state while anna is earning millions of pesos from her movies, teevee projects and endorsements.

sure we move in a tiny circle, makes beso every time we see each other, update each others' lives through ig, but we never really like her (anna kerenina landifa).

for us, anna kerenina landifa will always be the trying hard, social climbing socialite who once mispronounced louvre and thought h&m is couture. hahahaha.

but when she became too popular and very wealthy from her showbiz career (and there  have been rumours that she also moonlights as a very expensive lady of leisure if you know what i mean), we let her in into our tiny circle. we tolerated her sometimes pedestrian and very third world sensibilities (she hates eating banana cue, and was surprised when she once saw us eating some cooked by our popular chef friend. she was once horrified that we craved for fried dried fish, the crunchy ones, while we were in paris. she despised, it seems, anything and everything that would remind her of her humble past). she didn't know that we, the creme de la creme of society, are all closet poor.

she also cringed at our bad english grammar and wrong spellings. she thought that because we were all educated in elite schools abroad that we cared for such things. hahaha.

while we were talking, there was another call on my other phone. it was anna.

"anna is calling. what should i do?"

"ignore her."

"but..."

"since when did you grow a heart?" came her icy answer that sounded more like a warning than a question. afraid! even if marcheska is currently in the doldrums as far as her finances are concerned, she is still a force to reckon with. after all, this is marcheska we're talking about, the one who once scandalized the high society when she posed naked for a men's magazine in europe. the one who could throw a lavish party in new york and fly everyone there for free on a whim.

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(to be continued....)

note: photos above were taken from the internet. no copyright infringement intended. please inform me if you want them taken off. thank you.