Chapter 3: REJECTED

CHAPTER 3

REJECTED

“Have a seat, please,” he presented the chair in front of him. “I think, I did not reserve this café for nothing. Now, sit.” Grant’s voice was deep and resonant, imbued with confidence and authority.

With a gentle smile, she took the chair across him. Her eyes were glued on him, waiting for some news that could be good or bad. And worse, this man could have found out about her secret.

His eyes were deep-set and piercing, like a hawk surveying its prey.

Trixie came over with a tray in her hand. She put down two cups of freshly brewed coffee. One is their best selling and the other was her favorite. With a naughty smile and a wink, she left.

“So, Ria. Am I right?” he began.

She nodded, taking a sip of her latte. Her eyes dodged his gaze. There’s no use in telling him a lie about her name now. She can’t even imagine how this man found where she works.

“It was really you whom I met in Paris before.”

Again, she nodded. As much as possible, she keeps on running away from her past, particularly whatever happened in Paris. Her dream became a nightmare ever since.

“Perhaps, you remembered me? It’s Grant.”

“Of course.” How could she forget this man?

“I am here to offer you a job. Be my girlfriend.”

That made her raise an eyebrow. A job? Girlfriend? Is she hearing correctly?

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I am serious.” Grant leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on the table’s surface. “You just have to pretend my girl and I will pay you twice your salary.”

She took a sigh. “You’ve got a serious problem, Sir. Whatever happened to you last night with your so-called fiancée, I am out of it.” She stood up, she was about to walk out.

“Ria, please.”

“We can refund your reservation for you just wasted your time on nothing.”

He however also stood and stepped towards her. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers closing a small embossed card. He glanced up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a subtle intensity. With a deft movement, he extended his arm towards her, offering his card.

“If ever you change your mind.”

She watched as he deftly slipped it into the pocket of her apron, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her clothes. As he withdrew his hand, a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. He held her gaze for a moment before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing softly against the pavement.

And there she stood, watching him disappear in the distance. “Did that man just lose his mind?” she scoffs.

They opened the café after the man left. And she went back there serving the customers heading their way to taste their pastries and brews.

Her whole day went just as normal as usual. And as the last customers of the day trickle out of the café, she slips out her apron and tosses it onto a hook by the door. Her feet ache from hours of standing, but her eyes sparkle with energy and determination. She knows that her work is not yet done.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she hurries out into the cool night air, her hair whipping around her face as she makes her way to the fast-food drive-thru. As she steps behind the counter, she slips on a fresh apron, the bright colors and logo a stark contrast to the muted tones of the café.

There she takes orders with a smile, chatting amiably with each customer as she punches their request on the computer.

Without looking at the window, she asked the next customer who was in an Audi TT. “Welcome to MD! What will be your order --” she paused as her eyes transferred to the man in the car. “—Sir?” she continued.

“Are you following me?” she could not stop herself to ask, careful not to be heard by her co-workers.

Then, he smiled playfully. That irritated her more.

“You did not call me.”

“And I do not plan to.”

“Two thousand,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“That will be enough and it will be more than enough that you can resign from your jobs.”

She smiled bitterly. Right now, she was offered not just twice but five times more than her monthly salary. It will be enough to support herself and her son. “Why me? You can hire anybody with your offer.”

“It’s you who can fight over my so-called fiancée.”

“Grant. There are things that you can’t buy with money.” She took a sigh. “If you’re not going to buy. Please just move ahead.”

His face saddened and became serious. “A Quarter Pound with cheese and a large soda, please,” he said in his baritone voice.

“Would you want it with fries?” she asked, her gaze focused on the monitor.

“No. Thank you.”

“Please proceed to the next--”

Grant drove to the next window for his order without waiting for her to finish her instruction.

“Ria,” called the manager. “Your phone’s been ringing in the locker room for minutes now. It must be an emergency. I will ask Ricky to catch your shift.”

And so, she went to the locker room. She picked up her phone to see that she got around thirty calls and some messages. The phone in her hand rang with a shrill urgency that cut through the stillness of the room like a knife. Her heart was racing with a sudden sense of foreboding.

“Gwen?” she answered in her slightly trembling voice.

“Ria. I am here at the hospital. Lumiere.” Her voice is tense and obviously was crying a minute ago.

Her heart sank as she heard her son’s name. A cold knot of fear formed in her stomach. She could feel her hands trembling. “What… What is it? Is everything okay?” she managed to choke out.

“He fainted, but he is conscious now. I still don’t know. The doctor is running some tests.”

With a deep breath, Ria gathered her strength and made her way to the hospital. Thankfully, the manager allowed her for the emergency matter.

Her heart was pounding in fear and desperation, she is a whirlwind of emotions. Her eyes dart around the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway, frantically searching for her son. Her breath comes in short gasps, and her hands tremble with the intensity of her anxiety. As she approaches the reception desks, her voice shakes as she blurts out her son’s name, her urgency is palpable. She clutches her purse tightly to her chest as if it only grounds her in that overwhelming moment.

Not long after, she found where her son was confined. Beside him was Gwen who was patiently looking out for him.

“How is he?” she asked.

Gwendolyn looked up at her. “He’s sleeping. He is okay now. But the doctor needs to analyze his tests first before discharging him.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” She sat down on the bed, brushing her fingers on his pale cheeks.

The doctor’s footsteps echoed down the corridor as he approached them, his expression a mixture of gravity and hope.

“Excuse me. A family member of Grant Lumiere Gomez?” the doctor asked.

“I am the mother,” Ria stood proudly and faced the doctor along with the nurse behind him.

As he began to speak, his voice was calmed and measured, yet filled with empathy for her. The doctor is still in his mid-thirties and is looking younger than his real age. He has broad shoulders that are coated with his flawless lab coat. He looks so pure in those white cloth.

Doctor Mercado explained the details of the operation in clear, concise terms, outlining the risks and benefits with a steady hand. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the doctor’s words were infused with a sense of optimism, and a belief in the power of modern medicine to heal and restore. It is costly but the doctor spoke of the skill and expertise of his surgical team, and the cutting-edge technology at their disposal.

“I understand,” she nodded, and a sense of calm began to wash over her.

“That’s good. For now, here is the list of Lumiere’s additional vitamins and maintenance. Our pharmacy is on the first floor.”

“Thank you,” she said as she received the piece of paper.

She felt her knees weaken as the medical personnel left.

“Ria! Are you okay?” her best friend asked.

“Oh, Gwendolyn. Where will I get that big amount? My poor baby,” she whispered, carefully not to be heard by her kid.

“Ria. How about going back to our hometown?”

“Not this again, Gwendolyn. I can do this on my own.” She stood up and waved her goodbye to settle things before they could be discharged.

She dashed towards the checkout counter, her bag swinging wildly from her arm. Just as she reached for her wallet, disaster struck. The bag slipped from her grasp, spilling its content across the floor in a chaotic jumble of pens, cosmetics, and receipts.

For a moment, she froze, her eyes glued to the calling card that was given to her that same day. It had slipped out and now was tantalizingly close to her fingertips. Her gaze remained fixed on the card, her mind racing with thoughts of how that card could help her that time.