How Not To Be A Fantard

Chapter Two

Blind Item: The who itong macho superstar na super bait sa harap ng camera pero sa likod ng telon ay malaking sakit ng ulo pala ng kanyang manager dahil sa kanyang "alcohol issues"? Ang siste ang dahilan daw ng  pagiging manginginom ni macho superstar ay ang dating karelasyon na  starlet beauty queen! Naging super publicized and break up na ito kaya sigurado akong kilala nyo ang subject natin na si  macho superstar. Ano kaya ang masasabi ni Cess Drilon? Nagtatanong lang naman po!

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"So you've read the news? And you seem happy about it. You really love tormenting me, don't you?" my manager, Cess asked in her exaggerated high pitch tone, eyeing the newspaper next to me in the island counter where I'm taking my breakfast. After her mandatory tsk tsk at my kind of breakfast, she then proceeded to help herself in my kitchen.

I knew I should be worried because the Blind Item was obviously referring to me and my phone has been incessantly ringing, execs calling and demanding to know about it. I could hardly give a damn. Not entirely true of course. I cared about the repercussions of this article. Endorsements, sponsors and big bosses in my home network would, without a doubt, cut me off once the public learned about my "alcohol issues." But then again I could easily deny it and they would immediately accept such denial. People believed what they wanted to believe. And these people in my life were of no exception. They would rather accept a "not true" lie from me than face the reality of losing me to alcohol. Let me rephrase that: They would rather keep their bank accounts full than save a man's soul. Don’t get me wrong for I was not entirely ungrateful. Actually, I have been truly acting grateful all my life. So cut a guy some slack for calling a spade a spade.

Speaking of calling things, the girl in the cafe surely had no problem calling me names.  Drunk, creepy, and crazy. Now, I've been called so many things, Sexiest Man Alive, Person I'd die and cheat with, Best Actor of his generation and many more; but I have yet to be accused of being crazy, well, until that girl. Jeez. What was her name again? Yea, Jane and those dark eyes blazing with anger.  She seemed to have developed an instant hate against me. I could not truly blame her though since I showed up in the place drunk and I did act like crazy. But still, the nerve of her to call me on it. I bet she was one of my fans who wished to have a selfie with me. But she was really not, was she? She was different. She’s been taking a residence on my mind since I've met her yesterday or rather since my name was introduced to her by the cafe manager. I was surprised when she did not recognize me. And her happy hour speech surprised me more. I never had a problem convincing anyone to give me anything that I wanted. People wanted to impress me and would go beyond measure to do so. But this girl had no trouble saying no to me and giving me a piece of her mind. What an interesting person and these past years, I was rarely interested. I have dated several stunning women but they have managed to interest me only when we were in bed. But Jane and her eyes. Okay. I confessed. I’m an eyes-man. Not Ice man. You know, like some of us were into boobies or asses. Well, I’m into one’s eyes, the windows of the soul and shit. And her eyes were like Victorian windows of kind, like anyone could enter into the house using those windows and get lost in it? It caused me genuine smile just thinking of her. And I was actually thinking of her when Cess came in. I wanted to correct her and tell her about my encounter with this interesting girl. But she would only ask more questions that I don't have answers yet. Not that I was planning to have the answers. No, I could not see Jane again. The look in her eyes already screamed something that I recognized as troubles, because I was damn familiar with those seeing them in my mirror. And I didn’t want to add more, which would be guaranteed once the vultures or my fans saw me again in that place. I have never frequented a place and if I started showing up in the same cafe, people would start to add two and two. I could not do that to her.

"How many glasses have you already had at nawawala ka nanaman sa akin?" Cess was acting as if my drinking really affected my state of being. It never did. Actually, it was the opposite. I felt more alive when I'm drinking. I never felt really drunk even when people thought otherwise. They called it 'functioning alcoholic.' Luckily, Cess could not read my mind because she would throw a fit in just a mention of alcoholic. She refused to label me as one because according to her I was just an occasional drinker. We both knew better. But if she would rather pretend that every day was synonymous with occasion, then I would not argue. What is another lie anyway.

"Are you not listening to me at all? We have to issue a statement. I will call the bosses to get their approval. We cannot have people believe in this bullshit blind item. Damn, we should not even allow any speculation about you. Pero nanjan na yan. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang bubog sa atin ni Tito Alfie para isulat yun but I’ll find out." Cess then started to call people on her phone while reading something on her Ipad. In her seven years of being with me as my manager, I have never seen her in this kind of panic level. Well, in my eighteen years in showbiz this was the nastiest write up about me. Technically, it was not really about me but I knew how it was in my world. A blind item today would soon be a confirmed news.

It was a warning from press. How generous of them. Truth be told, press people loved me, heck, they were devoted to me. But in my world, love and devotion were sometimes easily outweighed by money and fame. So I could not really blame any reporter who would try to crack my mask. I have not given them any ammunition to break it. And to write about false accusations about me would cause them everything they have in life. My agency's attorneys would have no problem filing a million peso worth of lawsuit even if it was based on frivolous claims. And my fans would have no problem making them hate this world. Hell, some of my fans would make these reporters hate their own life. I did not condone it.  I appreciated the love nonetheless. I have learned not to question my fans' way of showing their love. Believe me, I learned it the hard way. What? You wanted the dirty details? You asked for it then.

When I was seventeen and was still doing the teeny bopper shows, I was paired with some girl who I'd rather not name since she had long quit showbiz. Then a certain fan of mine showed up during one of our meet and greet for a movie, and had a talk with my partner. Later, I learned that my fan threatened her that if she did not stop "flirting with me she would kill her." To make the story short, I immediately reprimanded my fan when I got the chance. And that was the last time she attended my mall shows. Because she ended up watching it up above. Yes. She took her life because according to her "she failed me and she doesn't want to live in the world if I never wanted her in it." These were the exact words she wrote in her suicide letter. The twisted part was that her letter was more of a devotion letter than a suicide one. Not that I knew the rules in writing that kind of letter but I knew for a certain that it should never been about me. It should be about her life and failures. But maybe I was her life and failure. She wrote all the good things she saw in me. She pleaded for everyone not to blame me because she claimed I had given her reason to live long enough. As if fourteen years was ever enough to live one's life. She turned me into a saint. In her eyes, I was not just an orphan kid who got lucky by being adopted by famous people. She said I was an angel whom God sent in this world for a purpose.

Words from dead were sometimes the most celebrated ones. They were almost always accepted as the gospel truth because to question or doubt them was to insult the dead. So when her letter was publicized and aired, actually sold by her parents to my home network's rival, people sympathized with me. Unfortunately for the said network, people chose to ignore the fact that I was the cause of her death. They fulfilled her last wish not to blame me but to see "the best side of me that she saw and loved." From being a next superstar just like my parents, I was an instant superstar and more. I became the most in-demand celebrity. Movies, TV show, endorsements, they were all offered to me. People became truly interested in knowing me and not my life with my famous parents. People watched my shows because they wanted a proof of her claims, that "if they could only see how great I am as an actor, they would love me and isn't it life about? Love." I would never know the answer to her question. What I knew was eight years later, she remained to be my diehard fan and I was her murderer.