One hour later, Alexey invited me to work inside his room for safety measuresâto which I pondered heavily about who would want to blow my brains out, even Hannibal Lecter wouldnât find my flesh palatable. But either way, at least I'd get to save my electricity bill, so I willingly migrated to room 1202.
RRRâŚRRR
PâChid was calling me. I picked it up and enabled the speakers, too lazy to hold the phone up to my ear; turns out, this was a horrible decision.
âPetch woi, the magazine deadline is about to close, how long are you going to spend editing those photos?â
His protestations from the phone was so loud that the person working in a separate corner of the room was forced to look up. Alexey adjusts his rimless reading gla.s.ses and casts his eyes to me, perking his ears to listen in on every word.
Editor Lookchid, the publishing house's pitbull terrier was rushing to get a hand on the magazine photos before I headed off on my trip this coming Sunday.
âI havenât found all the ones which I like yet PâChid.â
âJust select a pile and we'll decide the rest on our end⌠Iâll even have Meuk edit the photos for you if you want, but Iâm taking it out of your paycheck.â PâChid wasn't making much sense, he probably had a cigarette in his mouth.
âHua.â
âBy the way, a little birdie told me that Pun's taking a man with him too. Remember, youâre going for work, not to flirt with each other Petch.â I was stumped at my editor's words. If PâPun was taking a man with him, why was PâChid lecturing me?
âAlthough I hear this man is dashingly handsome isnât he? If youâre not pleased with the model in your team, feel free to use him instead.â
âPâChid are you crazy? âŚThat man belongs to PâPun, I canât ask him.â
âWell according to someone, heâs also been brushing up to youâthis means youâre the perfect person for the job Petch⌠Iâll leave it up to you. See you on thursday, donât be late.â
âBrushing up to me? As if.â
âAre you not shaken up at all Petch? I hear heâs as handsome as a G.o.d descended down from heaven.â
âOkay, I admit, heâs d.a.m.ned handsome⌠his name is Sasha⌠if you really want him as a model, Iâll try asking.â
âI knew it, behind that innocent face youâre secretly a casanova aren't you? Pun fell for it, that G.o.d-like hottie too, and I hear thereâs another foreigner wrapped around your finger too."
HuaâŚ
âIn any case, donât forget to ask Mr. Sashaâyour new husbandâfor permission. It'll be a problem if we publish his photos and end up getting sued later on, foreigners are especially cunning after all.â
I glance to look at the person most suited to be called a âcunning foreignerâ sitting not near or faraway, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. I corrected myself just moments ago did I not? Why was this matter resurfacing again hm~?
G.o.d definitely did not love me. Instantly, after hanging up the call with PâChid, Sasha called into the roomâs landline telephone asking for me. As you can probably guess, the hottie sitting green-eyed nearby was ready to tear me into pieces.
Of course, Sasha made it even worse. His nice-guy att.i.tude made me feel so guilty that I offered to treat him to dinner as thanks⌠finding trouble for yourself again Petch.
âŚ
The weather forecast at 24:25 in Bangkok: Rain clouds blanketed over the twelfth floor, strong gusts of wind swirled around, and a tornado forming out of nowhere was predicted to surface from the Bay of Bengal and reach Phetchaburi road within the next ten seconds.
I glance over to a.s.sess the situation, then averted my eyes away. Making a face of disregard, I shut my eyes and click, choosing eighteen photos from the total of eighty or so that were taken. Good grief⌠like I had the face to tell PâChid that I couldn't take any decent photos due to my lack of sleep. I was blurry and exhausted with sweat after 'exercising' on the van. Moreover, I took the wrong lens with me too. Sending substandard work to my editor was therefore like destroying oneâs own rice pot.
(TN: Destroy oneâs own rice pot â An expression referring to an act that is against oneâs interest or is damaging towards oneself)
Regardless, it was entirely my fault. Look at PâPunâs photos for instance, they were flawless, be it the lighting, the angle or the pose. Even the photos which PâPun took for fun⌠every photo of Sasha was tinged with soft lighting, especially the photo of him smiling⌠exactly how did PâPun manage to make this guy look as handsome as a deity?
âI demand an explanation. What you told me earlier, it seems to not be the case Petch.â
I smile sheepishly. âCan this wait? Right now Iâm⌠uh⌠like⌠busy with work⌠I canât think⌠Iâve been sitting here looking at these photos for ages and still havenât edited any of them.â
Alexey's eyes flashed rage. Anyone who has raised a dog before can probably imagine that I was no different than a puppy caught red-handed at stealing grilled chicken off the dinner table. I made an expression like my ears were drooping and my tail was tucked, searching for an excuse inside my hollow brain.
âLook, I'm not skilled at Photoshop okay? I normally use it only once a month since I have other a.s.sistants to help meâwith urgent work like this, itâs bound to take some time⌠can you give me a while to deal with this first?â
I swear on my pride as an ex-boy scout, an ordinary puppy and little monkey that I was better at using Photoshop than speaking English by a tiny margin. Would this hottie believe me?
âDo you think this farce will buy you time?â
âŚI knew it, this guy didn't believe me.
âYouâre a compa.s.sionate enough person to understand me⌠right?â
I had no idea why but the edge in my voice sounded oddly challenging, and he seemed to read it that way as well. The hottie retaliated by throwing me a hardcover book which was the size of a Bible. The front cover wrote the following: Idiotâs Guide to Photoshop CS5.
Um⌠from my understanding, it said âPhotoshop CS5 Guide for an idiot like youâ. Did I over-translate? I wasnât sure, however I felt weirdly put-down.
âIf you donât have a brain to think for yourself then open that book and follow the instructions.â
It felt as if he was rubbing salt into my wounds but I opened the book anyhow. Seeing the English, my eyes turned dizzy. âI canât read it.â
âYour husband from room 1206 should be glad help you.â Look at him speak, using that frigid tone again.
Alexey grimaced. âShould I call him over for you?â
I wonder if he knew⌠what I thought of his words? Or did he only care about himself? Whether 'he' was satisfied or not. It was never about what 'I' felt.
Fine. I canât count all twenty-six letters of the English alphabet from A to Z but I can read this much at least.
âIf you want to verify this, use the Eyedropper tool to measure the bottom line where the lines cross and where they donât cross. Doing so, the values will be 64 and 128 respectively.â
What I underlined were the words which I couldnât translate. When I was born, the doctor told my mother that my English gland was defective from birth. Luckily my mother was in a state of confusion so she didnât tell the doctor to bury me in the ground right then and there.
I stamp out of the room and return with bright red talking dictionary. Sitting down, I press the keys with a âpip pipâ sound, and use a pencil to write down the translated words on a notepad which I also went to grab from my own room. Once done translating the paragraph, I followed the instructions. I succeeded some and failed some, but whatever. If I couldn't do this much, Alexey was going to accuse me of pretending to be weak at English and simply waiting for the golden retriever next-door to come to my aidâŚ
So then why wonât this hottie help me instead?
Although, why would he even need to help me? âŚWe werenât âanythingâ to each otherâŚ
Oh⌠bed partners maybe. If I acted too haughty then forgive me⌠and this was probably the reason why he never bothered to listen to any of my words too!
These idiotic questions swirled around in my head like a goldfish swimming in a gla.s.s bowl, from a whisper it grew louder and louder until my thoughts became overcrowded, unable to think of anything else. I jerk back the hand which was in the middle of writing down the translated word and relaxed it open. Although the room was cold due to the air conditioner, my hand was damp with sweat.
There was no explanation for it.
âPetch.â
ââŚâ
âPetch.â
âFigure 6.3
Brushes have variable settings like size, hardness, and opacity. Different effects can be achieved by modifying these variables.â
Like I could read this, Iâve been copying Jessicaâs English tests since elementary school up till my undergraduate year after all. I note down the wrong translation, erase it, write it again, it was wrong, then erased it for the second time⌠what the h.e.l.l.
I fling the eraser hard. Go die instead of that hottie, you!
âI didnât mean to say those words.â
If you didnât mean it, why did you say it out loud to hurt the feelings of the person listening hah?
Alexey walks over to sit across from me. I look somewhere else, close the book, turn off my MacBook, then went to brush my teeth. Returning to the sofa, I grabbed a pillow⌠then slept.
âForget it, Iâm going to sleep.â
Whatever he viewed me as was his business. I wonât care anymore too, you black-hearted person.
âŚ
I pull up the blanket over my head and lay, eyes blinking for a long while, hearing the sound of the hottie fumbling around, doing something nearby. I wanted to know, but my obstinate self prevented me from getting up to look. Half an hour later, I felt the lights turn off and the hottie leave the room⌠I heaved a sigh of relief, looking up at the clock. What was I acting crazy for? Why was I acting self-centered like a kid sucking on his thumb? Wasnât there only a few days of work left? And why was I using nothing but emotion to deal with things, it was ruining my productivity.
And finallyâŚ
Why did being near that hottie always cause my emotions fluctuate? This isnât good Petch, youâre becoming overly dramatic.
Enough, it was time to quit being crazy!
I calm my nerves, take a deep sigh, and turned on my MacBook once again⌠The whitish light made what was once a darkened bedroom glow bright. A big thick book lay next to my stylus. I squint to read the t.i.tle of the book in the darkness and flipped through its contents, a.s.suming that it was a guide aimed at novices for editing photos like a professional. When I got down to reading however, I discovered that the hottie had given me a German book. Should I be thankful or angry?
Only when I got up to turn on the lights did I see that nearly every page was covered with someoneâs handwriting. It was in English, and annotated each and every step. From just guessing blindly, following the instructions, the photo in front of me appeared more professional in the blink of an eye
The photos which I sat there working on till my eyes became sore earlier was retouched until they looked stunningly beautiful. If Editor Chid didn't like them, I was really going to spray insecticide down his mouth and poison him dead this time.
The work was finished without my realisation. Looking at the clock again, it was already eleven-thirty. I sat there reading the big book in my hand casually, my eyes finding that some of the chapters had an unusual handwriting in them. It was written in German, however it felt inexplicably familiar.
A polaroid photo sat in the second-to-last page of the book. Giving it a once-over, I could tell that it was taken by a professional-level photographer. They were able to draw out the fearsome charisma of the owner of those deep blue eyes which shone brilliantly in the photo, even if only one side of the face was captured. Actually, I recalled vaguely that I had seen this photo somewhere before. It was used as a contact lens advertis.e.m.e.nt by a giant brandname corporation in Europe. The photo was displayed on billboards across England and several other countries in Europe, as well as published in a variety of magazines in Thailand too⌠it was roughly four or five years ago.
This eye was really beautiful⌠for G.o.dâs sake.
I try to visualize the rest of the facial features⌠Dark eyebrows like mine, the color of cocoa. The nose, prominent with a rounded tip, arrogant-looking. Lips which could only be seen a little, what color were they? Smiling licentiously like a âBad Boyâ, was the real person even half as fierce?
I admired the photo for no less than fifteen minutes⌠To use a polaroid camera relied entirely on skill to draw out the spirit of the person being taken and convey it to audiences one click away.
Awesome⌠Both the photographer and the model⌠they were d.a.m.ned awesome.
I turn over the photo. 24.11.06 was written on the back. There was no name or signature. I wanted to know more about the photographer, what should I do⌠and when was that hottie coming back?
I slide the polaroid back in place, reopen the photos which I had just finished editing, then flipped the book again to begin reading attentively. Some of it I understood, some of it I didnât. However, I was starting feeling better about myself.
When I dove down into the blankets⌠suddenly, the answer to my idiotic questions from earlier dawned on me. It wasnât that the hottie didnât believe me when I tried to correct myself⌠rather, it was because he âbelievedâ and âunderstoodâ that he threw that G.o.d-tier graphics book at me, so that I could learn to do things with my own ability and not go begging for someone elseâs âhelpâ.
It was a shame that I fell asleep before he returned, in my sleep, feeling a pair soft lips brush against my cheekâŚ
ââŚâ
âŚ
Okay, okay, so you want to know what that guy said? Letâs play a guessing game to see what exactly I heard which made me startle out of my sleep.
A. It was a shame that I fell asleep before he returned, in my sleep, feeling a pair soft lips brush against my cheek⌠âI didnât mean to hurt you, my dear. Iâm sorry.â
If it's option A, then that's too cheesy. Let me suggest a second choice, option B instead.
B. It was a shame that I fell asleep before he returned, in my sleep, feeling a pair soft lips brush against my cheek⌠âYouâre quite the flirt, little monkey. If I ever catch you cheating, you're more than dead.â
Option B still sounds a bit weird doesnât it? Letâs try one more, option C.
C. It was a shame that I fell asleep before he returned, in my sleep, feeling a pair soft lips brush against my cheek⌠And then he shifted to bite my ear! What is this, since when did this hottie transform into Mike Tyson!!!
I bounce right up, hand cupping my ear and eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears after getting a true taste of BDSM. âWoi!!! What the h.e.l.l are you doing!â
The hottie seemed slightly surprised at my loud outburst, however his expression was oddly content.
âWaking up someone that likes to fake sleep.â
Having not antic.i.p.ated this answer, I couldnât reply back. âYou⌠you⌠are you crazy? Do you know how late it is?â
âI didnât give permission for you to sleep, therefore you canât sleep yet.â He said annoyingly, complete with a sneer to get on my nerves. âAre you finished with your work, little monkey?â
âItâs done already!â I made a stern voice, ear still throbbing with pain. When morning arrives, I swear I'm going to Khao Din! Iâm going to complain to the director of Khao Din that a poor little monkey was being abused by the Russian mafia! âCan you leave me to sleep in peace already? Iâm dead tired.â I flip my body over to face inside the sofa and pull the blanket over my head.
(TN: Khao Din â A popular zoo in Thailand)
Ah, wait. I shouldn't leave this hanging.
I flip my body back to look. Although I wanted us to speak nicely, I was still feeling resentful about having my ear bitten. âUm⌠thanks for the book, it was very helpful.â
âMm, I couldn't read itâbut I don't want to ask for help from the neighbouring room either, afraid that a certain someone is going to accuse me of being lazy, waiting for the deity from room 1206 to come down and grace me.â I glare at him, then pulled the blanket over my head again. âGood night.â
Five.
Were my words too harsh?
Four.
But wasnât this equal treatment to all the times which this hottie had scolded me?
Three.
Wh⌠what to do. To apologise now didn't seem appropriate too.
Two.
For f*ckâs sake, I didnât really mean what I said. That hottie probably understands right?
One.
c.r.a.p⌠heâs not replying at all⌠Petch is going to die because of his mouth again everyone.
The blanket was yanked away, sofa sinking from the weight of the eighty kilo body which transferred onto it. A black shadow towered over my body which in turn, shrunk to two inches. Grey eyes flashed.
âNicely said.â
I close my eyes tight. Thereâs no need to be violent, I'm sorry okay? I'm the one who's wrong.
âThe new keycard console has been installed. If tomorrow, you want to move back or move to some other room, be my guest. I've had enough of dealing with you. Goodnight.â
Alexey went to bed at two. As for me, before I could force my eyes shut⌠it had become four in morning.