Chapter 7: 'I didn't choose you'

ROSE

“Where the hell were you?” Those electrifying blue eyes glared at me. “And–.” A hand clamped half his face as his brows furrowed in horror. “And what the hell is that smell?”  

Shit water. A special concoction made by an extraordinary team of professional stylists. That’s right. Instead of perfecting their concepts of style for their artistes, they perfected their recipe for dirty water—the stench is stronger and more powerful; it doesn’t come off even after multiple washes, which was what I had been doing in the past hour since Rum called.  

But standing before him, I find myself stumped. 

I can’t tell him the truth. I don’t want him to think that I’m full of excuses. I’m having a fresh clean start with my next favourite person on Earth. 

He stood. 

And all movement and sound halted. 

“Did you hear what I said?” His voice was soft, yet low and threatening. 

I couldn’t look away. A chilling fear was creeping up my back. “Y-Yes…M-Mr.—.”

“THEN ANSWER ME!” he roared. 

Terror seized my heart. The heat of tears swarmed to the back of my eyes. I didn’t even dare to blink. I just stared at him. 

Violent wrath crossed those beautiful features, crushing the charming face into the menacing one of a bully. He tilted his head innocently and asked gruffly, “Still not talking?” 

He grabbed something off the vanity table and hurled it at me. 

Gasps of shock punched the air as I winced away in reflex, shutting my eyes tight, when the thing whizzed past my ear like an angry bullet. 

SMASH!! CLANK!!

Something tiny struck my feet, and I hopped aside. The scream of fear in my throat. Then, shivering, I peeped through half-opened eyelids and saw the hair curler at my feet, its plug yanked off from the socket. 

“TALK!!” 

My hand jerked down and my head shot up, and I faced the seething superstar directly. “Yes!” Instinctively, I bowed to a ninety-degrees angle and shouted like a soldier, “I am late because I was taking a shower!” 

“What!” Rum shouted incredulously. “Why the fuck are you taking a shower—?” His brows raised in bewilderment. “Are you freeloading off the company?!” 

I jolted upright in astonishment. “No!” My hands waved frantically. “I-I….” I glanced at Tessa who moved her thumb along her neck to signal a death threat and then stiffened in fear.

“WHAT IS IT THEN? Goddamn it! You’re wasting my fucking time!” 

I lifted my chin and shouted, “I tripped into a puddle of shit on my way here!” 

“Jesus Christ!” Rum backed away, holding a finger to his nose. New gasps and some giggles erupted into the air, scalding my face with sheer embarrassment. 

I trudged on with my explanation. I owe it to the world’s best singer, songwriter. “T-Then, you called. A-And I had to meet you. So I rushed through everything. I-I did my best. But the smell….” My voice trailed off into the sniggers in the background. 

I gripped tightly to summon the courage and promised in a firm tone, “It will come off, I promise! Mr. Rum, you’ll have the best assistant from now on, I guarantee you that! You won’t regret choosing me!” 

Laughter exploded behind him. 

More anger flushed across his face. He stormed towards me, grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the studio. 

*****

I hit the wall hard and winced in pain. 

“LISTEN HERE, Dirty Rosey.” 

My eyes flew open and I stared at those magnetic blue eyes drilling through mine ruthlessly. 

No… not him too. He’s my kind Rum. There must have been a misunderstanding. 

“I didn’t choose you—I just took the last name in the list and it happened to be you,” he growled menacingly. “So if you go around telling everyone that I chose you, I’ll snip off an inch of your pathetic hair. You got that into your miserable head?” 

I nodded profusely. 

“ANSWER ME!” His warm, minty breath blasted at me.

“Yes!” I squealed. 

Finally, his shoulders relaxed. But his hands were still in tight fists pressed against the wall on each side of my head, caging me. 

“Do you know who I am?” He suddenly asked. 

I knitted my brows slightly. “Y-Yes….” 

“ARGH!” He slammed a fist on the wall and pushed himself away in a painful groan. 

With the huge gap between us, I thought I could finally breathe when he turned around and in two strides, he was back right in front of me. 

“You are not going to tell anyone,” he snarled. 

“T-Tell what?” 

His head tilted in puzzlement. “Wait. Don’t you know who I am?” 

I was getting vexed. Idol or not, I felt as though I was talking to Annie number two. 

Of course, I know who you are! Who doesn’t??

I drew in a sharp breath and replied as patiently as I could, “You’re Rum—international superstar. You started out as a model at the age of seventeen and took the fashion world by storm. You were booked for every show. Then, you turned to acting. And you won awards right from the first gig. And then you moved on to singing and songwriting. You released an album, which gone platinum. Following that you went on a world tour, debuted in a movie, and clinched endorsements. You did all of that in a year….” 

Rum chuckled dryly. “I see you did your homework.” 

I smiled brightly. “I’m a fan of your work!” 

“Eew.” His face crushed with disgust. “Don’t. Don’t smile like that. It’s revolting.” 

Instantly, I pulled into a dead expression. “Yes, Sir!” 

“So that’s all you knew about me?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

I mimicked his expression. “What else should I know about you?” He looked as though I had just called him an idiot, so I immediately added in a timid voice, “I know everything about you that’s on the internet—that’s all! I swear!”

“Fine.” He finally moved away from me. “You get to stay as my assistant.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Rum! You won’t regret it!” 

He swung back, furious. “I ALREADY DO! SO STOP SAYING THAT!” 

“Yes, Sir!” I stood in rigid attention. 

The stunning figure in a large, bright white shirt and midnight blue pants pointed a warning finger at me and muttered in a grave tone, “You don’t leave my sight, but I can leave yours. And when I do, you call until I answer.” 

“If you don’t answer—.” 

“CALL UNTIL I ANSWER!” He thundered. 

“Y-Yes!” 

“Now, where was I… Ah!” His fierce glare was back. His voice lowered into a threatening decibel. “Don’t you ever interrupt me when I’m talking. Wait for your fucking turn to speak. And should you have questions, I don’t want to hear them. They are none of my fucking business. You got that.” 

I nodded furiously. “Yes!” 

“And put on some goddamn perfume!” His finger shot up to his nose and he cringed with repulsion. “And wear some make-up, for God’s sake! You’re scaring away my creativity! If I can’t write a thing, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you!” 

“Got it!” I huffed. Perfume, make-up, stay silent. I can do all that. I’m going to stay in this job no matter what. I have nowhere else to go. And I’m never going back to Annie’s! 

“Thirty minutes. That’s all I’m giving you, Dirty Rosey.” 

“Wait, Mr. Rum–.” He swung back in fury and I hiccuped to swallow my surprise. 

“Didn’t I say that I don’t want to hear your stupid questions?” 

“But what if it’s code red and you’re away?”

Rum eyed me curiously. Then, he inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Send me a text. Code Red. And I’ll know.” 

He strode out of the conference room and slammed the door behind him. 

I finally succumbed to my jelly feet and collapsed to the floor. Tears streamed down my face. Those bitches ruined my first meeting with Rum. It was supposed to be perfect. But it was not. 

I sniffed and pulled myself up. Forcing a smile, I exhaled to summon the strength to pull through the day. I should count my blessings—I’m officially Rum’s assistant! I made it!

*****

I scrambled to an empty dressing room. I blow dried my hair and braided it once more, then applied a little gloss tint on my plump lips. I put on my specs and then checked my reflection in the mirror to make sure that my hair and attire was at least neat and tidy. Lastly, I took a deodorant stick (there weren’t any perfume bottles lying around and I don’t have one), tested the scent (it smelled of fresh blossoms), and then applied it to the ends of my hair, my wrists and behind my earlobe. 

When I returned to the studio, Rum was already in the midst of his photoshoot for a magazine cover. 

The staff was crowding around the equipment and the black backdrop, standing by for any impromptu adjustments. It was quiet except for the photographer’s gentle instructions and the snapping sounds of the camera. 

After a few flashes, the photographer paused to check the shots while the stylist rushed forward for a retouch. 

And then Rum pointed a finger at me and curled it towards him. 

He needs something. What do you need? I asked him with my eyes. 

“ARE YOU AN IDIOT?” Rum barked at me. “MY MORNING DRINK! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?” His beautiful eyes narrowed with frustration.  

“S-Sorry, Mr. Rum! I-I’ll go get it right away.” I cowered away from the mocking giggles and dashed to the studio’s exit. 

Once the door closed behind me, I whipped out my phone and started making notes. 

Rum did say that he won’t listen to any of my questions. So I have to find out all the answers on my own. I can do this! Wish me luck!