The Nemesis

CHAPTER TWO: THE GHOSTFACE

"Come on, motherfucker! Motherfucker!", Theo shouts out in frustration as he bangs his fist on the beige Cordovan leather dashboard of his car. His throbbing fist immediately recoils in pain and, yet another, hostile curse explodes out of an deeply anxious Theo, "Owww! What the fuck shit-"

"Seriously! Shut the f up! I can't hear a thing Timothee is saying!", shouts out Pip from the backseat.

"Shut up!", yells Theo, on top of his lungs, and he honks his car for a full ten seconds and takes an abrupt left turn, narrowly avoiding crashing into a dead, rusty street lamp.

An annoyed Pip harshly kicks the brown lacquer back of the driver's seat, with the sharp silver block-heels of her new Saint Laurent black-and-white-marbled knee-high python-leather boots. Next to Pip, a calmly smiling Timothee reassures her, "The interview won't start in about fifty minutes, I promise we'll get there in time!".

The exhaust system of Theo's limited-edition metallic blue Bentley Continental GT roars as the car springs forwards with a higher acceleration each time.

Butt Virgin squeezes his eyes shut and, with all his might, clings onto the car seat belt for dear life, as if he is riding a wild, risky roller coaster.

When Theo sharply jerks his car left with yet another abrupt leap in speed, Timothee is brutally tossed to Pip's corseted chest. Timothee and Pip's eyes widen in complete mortification and a raucous shocked scream bursts out of their lips as they look at each other straight in the eye.

Theo shakes the steering wheel as if to rip it out of the dashboard and yells, "What the fuck?".

This time, all three passengers yell unanimously at Theo, "Just drive!".

Butt Virgin instantly regrets his outburst of anxiety as Theo's hormonal, distressed voice rattles the whole car, "FUCK ALL OF YOU! LET ME FUKCING CONCENTRATE!", and hot saliva sticks onto Buttt Virgin's face.

After thirty minutes of savage arguments going back and forth between Pip and Theo, the two fall silent, completely exhausted by adrenaline burnout.

Poor Butt Virgin shudders in acrophobic fear and begins to sweat as the gilded view of infamous partyland Bel Air, glistens across a series of gargantuan mountains, as if it is Las Vegas built on top of a hill.

In the backseat, Timothee and Pip, with Timothee's backpack protectively between them, discreetly look at each other's faces in the suffocatingly suspenseful aftermath of capital embarrassment.

"Timothee?", nervously asks Pip, with her eyes closed and hands clasped together tightly.

Timothee, caught off guard, slightly gasps to himself and excessively clears his throat, "Ahem! Ahem! Ahhhrrhem!", before making an apologetic eye contact with Pip.

"Yes?", asks Timothee, tapping his feet on the ground, barely managing to maintain his laid-back composure.

Pip hesitantly opens her eyes and says, "Can-can you refresh me on the rules about TV interviews".

Timothee's usual amicable smile returns to his face and he keenly says, "Of course, sure."

"Thanks", quietly replies Pip as she glances at Timothee and quickly looks away, feeling her cheeks being baked by the embarrassment that still feels so vivid.

"Okay, so. If you're nervous or just feel uncomfortable, don't try to cover that up. Just admit how you feel and laugh it off. A laugh is like a transition word – you can easily switch topics with it. A smile is a charm but also a shield. No one can spit on a smiling face. Be mindful of the interviewer and the questions, but don't let them get to your head. Keep them at bay. Most importantly, always remember why you are doing an interview: because you are special. Because you are special, your words are irreplaceable so you have to take responsibility over what you say."