T
hey scheduled a video call at three in the morning, New Year’s day. The boys, still wearing stage makeup, were loud and rowdy, just as Fi expected them to be. She live streamed the award show, she said, and they were ecstatic to hear it. They also had loads of fun teasing Steven, who cried buckets during the acceptance speech.
“Hey, those were manly tears!” he protested, swiping a slice of pizza from Minchan and consequently starting a wrestling match behind Yihwan.
“Aren’t you going to play referee?” Fi asked, concerned. Minchan seemed to have arm-barred Steven, but her vantage point couldn’t help confirm it.
“Nah. We both know who’s going to win anyway.”
She laughed. “Are you the only ones celebrating over there?”
“Yeah. It’s the New Year—everyone else is home with their families.”
“Everyone except the three of you.”
Yihwan shrugged and drank something from a mug. Something she supposed wasn’t coffee or tea, considering the occasion. “You were here last year too.”
“Yeah. I kind of miss it.”
Something suddenly crashed in the background. It looked as if Steven and Minchan wandered off to the kitchen and continued their physical squabbling there.
“Scratch that,” she said as an afterthought. Yihwan craned his neck and yelled for his two members to “stop that or bring it outside.”
The band leader excused himself, and Fi simply gestured for him to get it over and done with. With Yihwan out of the way, she could see as much of the band’s living space as the camera allowed. Seeing the EG Project dorm like this gave her a strange feeling of nostalgia, like she hadn’t been there in years.
The laptop, she assumed, was sitting on the edge of the glass table because she had a clear view of the music space. She frowned at the sight of misplaced musical instruments, tangled cables, and sheets of paper on the floor. You’re not their manager anymore, Fi. Stop it, she reminded herself.
Instead, she chose to recall the many long nights they spent in that very space, working on songs, arguing about musical arrangement, stuffing their face with food, catching Zs. She smiled, remembering Steven dozing off on his “throne,” falling backward and hitting the cymbal stands. Minchan obsessively tuning his and Yihwan’s guitars while a chicken wing dangled between his lips. And Yihwan randomly stopping rehearsal to pick up a pen and paper because a new song came to him and he “didn’t want to lose it.”
“Sorry for taking so long,” Yihwan said when he returned and sat in front of the camera.
“Did you have to mop up blood?”
“Almost.” He chuckled as Steven and Minchan appeared behind him, both holding a box of pizza. Apparently, the way to get the kids to stop quarrelling was to feed them. “So how have you been doing?”
“I’m all right. You know what, my alma mater had signed up to be one of the schools participating in the Think Golden Thoughts campaign, and I’m one of their resource speakers,” Fi enthusiastically shared. “We’ve gotten several more resource speakers, and we’re moving on to cover more schools in the area. It’s been great.”
“I’m sure it is,” Yihwan said. “I’m really proud of you, Fi.”
“Just taking a page from your book, you know. And I feel much prouder of the three of you. I wish I could’ve been there too.”
“Well...” Yihwan threw a glance at Minchan, who was chewing on his pizza. “You are the heart and soul of Golden, so I guess it’s safe to say you’ve always been with us.”
The magnae lifted a thumb up in agreement, while Steven shoved Yihwan’s face a bit to the side so he can hog the camera a bit. “Being with us in spirit kind of sucks though,” the drummer complained. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“You didn’t already get a job there, did you?” Steven asked, sounding like a jealous boyfriend.
Fi chuckled and shook her head. “I have these talks, and that’s it. You can hardly call it a job.” She did get a little compensation for being a resource speaker, but it was incomparable to her AmEnt paycheck. Still, it was enough to get by on for the meantime. It wasn’t like she was rushing to get a new job at the moment, either, especially after her mother encouraged her to get some rest. She had been working for five years straight, after all.
“What do we need to do to get you back on board? Go on, humor me.” It was still Steven, talking like he owned Amethyst Entertainment and could afford to give Fi whatever she asked for.
“Double my last paycheck!” she joked.
“Done! I’m sure we can lobby that with CEO Kwon, right?” Steven clapped and looked to his band leader, who, in turn, shoved him away and said, “You lobby that yourself.”
“Did you hear that, Fi? That was the sound of Yihwan’s utter lack of effort.”
Yihwan grabbed the throw pillow he had been sitting on and quickly whacked Steven with it, sending the drummer running away again. Fi managed to catch Steven yell “And you call yourself a band leader!” before Yihwan excused himself to chase after him.
Minchan rolled his eyes. “Kids.”
Oh, you boys. Never change.
* * *
February meant school would be out for the summer soon, which also meant busy days for everyone working in the academe. Carlos was constantly stuck at his desk these days, processing a zillion student documents. On one such afternoon, Fi arrived at his office, bringing along a bunch of snacks. Carlos let out a happy sigh when he saw his friend walk in. “I’d been wondering why my Fi senses were tingling...”
“Pft. Fi senses—what, even?” Her eyes fell on the pile of folders on his cluttered desk. “I seem to remember this same pile from last week.”
Carlos threw her an exasperated look. “Believe me, this is a completely different pile.”
“Well, I’m glad I brought something for you to eat. You look like you need a lot of sustenance.” She threw the bag at him, and his varsity player reflexes resurfaced when he caught it effortlessly.
He held the bag against his chest and wore a touched expression. “Aww, mahal mo talaga ako.”
“May bayad yan.”
A laugh. “Ginagantihan mo ako, ah.”
“I think I’m ready to go back to Seoul,” she declared as she sat on one of the chairs in front of her friend’s desk. The sight of his name plate—Carlos Santillan Jr., Guidance Counselor—peeking out from underneath the mess made her heart smile with pride.
Time seems enchanted between people who have been friends for a long time; no one really grows older than when you’d last seen them, and you’re always under the impression they’re the same person you’ve known five, ten, even fifteen years ago. That was how Fi felt with Carlos. After being away from home a long while, seeing him again, working with him, and walking the same old corridors with him brought back so many warm, wonderful memories. He was the same old friend who had chosen to carve a path for himself, and from the few months she had seen him do his job, she’d say he was doing a pretty good job.
Fi had decided on her own path years ago, and even when she struggled to stay on it, she knew it was one she would never give up on. The monkey wrench life threw into her plans could have derailed her for a while, but she didn’t want it to keep her off the track anymore.
Yes, there was fulfillment in representing an advocacy she believed in. For every student, teacher, and parent who approached her with their stories dealing with bullying and how it had affected their lives, Fi felt a sense of belonging. She was happy to have been able to tell her story. To inspire them, to encourage them to be stronger and braver in the face of people and circumstances that oppressed them.
Her side trip had been amazing, but it was time to get back on track.
“I know I’m going to sound impossible, but my heart still longs for that seemingly thankless job back there,” she mumbled as her friend looked on. “When we were doing the talks, I asked the students once what they thought road managers did. Do you know what they said?”
“That you carry artists’ things, drive them to places, and bring them coffee.”
Fi nodded, grinning. “It’s actually pretty accurate, if you think about it...but my job requires way more than that. I don’t know if my boys were just too generous that they’ve let me become a part of every endeavor they made, but I was part of it, one way or another. It’s why, when I hear their fans say EG Project’s music inspired them to write, to play music, to be a better person...I feel like I’ve done my job well.”
“You have. It’s just that unfortunate things happened...”
She shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And braver. And smarter.”
Carlos leaned forward a bit, and like this, they looked like student and counselor now. Amusing, since he had usually been the one to ask Fi for advice when they were teens. “Well…are you stronger, braver, and smarter now?”
“I guess I am. I mean, why else would I decide to go back there?”
“I don’t know—there could be a boy.”
“Carlos!” Fi picked up an eraser on the table and chucked it at her friend. “Of all the things...”
The guidance counselor dodged the object and shrugged. “Aba, malay ko! Gabriel definitely made a strong case for himself, coming here to spend Christmas with you.”
Fi scowled at him, although certain her friend would have already caught the red on her cheeks. “Pwede ba, I’m being serious here.”
“All right, fine.” Carlos pursed his lips so he could keep himself from laughing. “And you’re telling me all this because... ?”
“Because I won’t be able to do these talks for you anymore.”
“Fi, I only asked for a favor. And, as always, you went above and beyond the call of duty. I couldn’t be more thankful.”
“I’ve learned a lot. I’m thankful for that too.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait. Is Tita Diana still clueless about everything that’s happened?”
“Nah, she knows. I told her over the holidays—figured it was a good enough time to tell her.”
“And what did she say?”
“Oh, let’s just say I’m so glad that one, most of the mean things said about me were in Korean, and two, Gabriel was around to distract her with his face…or I might have had a harder time pacifying her.”
* * *
As March rolled in, so did news about Gabriel’s promotion to deputy chief of the PR department. But while the majority of his team congratulated him on his new assignment, there were employees who sourgraped about it, spreading rumors about him sucking up to the recently reinstated CEO Kwon for the post.
It wasn’t a completely unfounded rumor.
After Fi’s dismissal from Amethyst Entertainment, one of the things Gabriel did was to consult Minja about it, and they had decided it was best to try getting in touch with CEO Kwon. He knew he probably sounded like a kid whining to a parent, but someone had to call the old man’s attention to what was going on. Especially after he had discovered Fi wasn’t the first to experience such undeserved treatment during CEO Kang’s tenure.
Sending CEO Kwon that e-mail was a shot to the moon. Given how private the old CEO was, no one at AmEnt could tell Gabriel exactly how the old man was doing or where he was staying, only that his old office e-mail was still active.
One reply merited another, and another, and another. Soon, Kwon Jaekwan was making calls to Seoul, asking people what the hell was going on in his company. It had become apparent that whatever news CEO Kwon had been getting about AmEnt had not included issues in the workforce. It was very typical of CEO Kang to be all about results and nothing else; it just didn’t occur to Gabriel how it was hurting Amethyst as a whole.
Eventually, he had been the one to unveil the ugly truth.
“So, are you ready to see your new cell?” Minja asked him with a playful chuckle the day Gabriel was scheduled to transfer to a shiny new office just several strides away from his old desk.
“Ha. Ha.”
“You don’t seem too happy.”
“Just a little nervous. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me.”
“All the women on this floor have had their eyes on you since you came here four years ago. You’re still not used to it?”
“Sunbae, you know that’s not what I meant.”
Minja sighed and leaned against his desk the way she normally did when she was about to lecture him on something. “Gabriel, do you have any idea how big of a shift you created in just a few months? The reason why people are and will be watching your every move from now on is because they’re thankful. And expecting greater things from you. I mean, you pretty much started a movement to overthrow the previous regime.”
“You make it sound like CEO Kang was some kind of evil overlord or something.”
“He wasn’t. That doesn’t mean he didn’t do some questionable things that drove some of our best employees away,” Minja pointed out. “Clearly, a lot of people were too scared to say anything. But you weren’t.”
“Not to overthrow him or anything like that. I only wanted to set things straight about Fi.”
The tinge of mischief Minja’s smile was unmistakable as she nodded at him sagely. “I guess it’s true what they say about love—oh, what was it? About moving mountains?”
Gabriel scratches his eyebrow. “I think you’re talking about faith, sunbae.”
“Whatever. Love moves mountains, end of discussion,” Minja insisted, waving her hand dismissively. “Now move your ass to your new office so we can start ironing out Q2 and Q3 plans. Chop chop!”
Minja casually walked away and approached another hoobae’s table. Gabriel took his box and left his desk in favor of his new office, and on the way there, he was greeted with smiles, thumbs-ups, and other congratulatory gestures.
And yet, all he could think of was how Fi would have greeted him if she had known. Oh, how he wished she were here.