Chapter 13: 'Your father's? -- So?'

ROSE

A week later, we were in Studio 11. Rum was filming an advertisement for B.A.D’s biggest client, FUNTORY, one of the oldest beverage makers.

A silence of awe sank amongst the staff as we watched Rum consumed his twentieth consecutive giant jug of FUNTORY’s latest craft beer.

He slammed the glass jug on the table and spread his lips into a mysterious smile of satisfaction, and said, “Freshness in every drop.” And he gave his signature wink.

“CUT!” The director shouted.

And the bright lights washed across the room.

I rushed forward, worried for Rum. But I dared not voice it out since I’d be severely judged for it. So I merely asked, in a considerate whisper, “Towel? Water? Your favourite drink?”

“Water,” he murmured.

As he drank, I observed him and noted something strange: his cheeks were crimsoned a second ago; now, they were his normal skin colour.

Come to think of it, Rum’s face started to flush with the alcoholic red after the fifth jug. But the redness would alw