“WHAT are you planning to do, Ma’am Ruru?” Santi, the makeup artist, asked her when she saw her arranging the colored printouts on the coffee table in their lobby.

“Meri and Emong will come with me to distribute these flyers around Manila,” she said and looked up at Santi. “You can’t come with us because we have guests today. And the family wanted the makeup to look lively. You’re the only one that can do it.”

“Ma’am Ruru, I suggest you distribute the flyers near the airport. I heard Juancho’s troops that the majority of their clients were travelers,” she whispered.

Ruru knotted her forehead. “How did you hear about it?” she asked. “Did you talk to his male staff again? I told you to avoid that Juan’s Funeral, right? Do you want me to fire you?”

Santi laughed. “I will consider that as a favor, Ma’am Ruru. I saw too that the JF is looking for an extra makeup artist.”

“Oh, really? Then you’re free to go!” she shouted and returned her gaze to the flyers. Her lips were pouted while checking on each category. “All of you are free to go…” she said in a surprisingly lower tone. “I know, I can’t give you extra pay like what the other employers do. But it’s not because I’m greedy or unfair with your payrolls. I just can’t give you extras because we’re short in the budget!”

“Ma’am Ruru…” Santi tried to hold her arm, but she avoided her.

“Since that JF came here, I started to lose clients,” she said as she wiped her tears. “I didn’t expect that Juancho will make his threat to me when we’re in college. I didn’t saw it coming, and now we’re near to a landslide with small chances of survival.”

Santi caught her hand and squeezed it. “Ma’am Ruru, I’m not serious with what I said. I can’t leave Minase. I can’t leave you…” She hugged her tightly. “We almost grew together here, and your dad is a good employer to my father. Do you think I can just throw away those memories?”

Ruru started crying. “But I’m not a good boss to all of you! I’m always shouting and barking commands.”

She heard Emong laughed from his desk. “We learned to live with your noisiness, Ma’am Ruru. In fact, we’ll be worried about you if you will stop shouting at us.”

Miko, the bodyguard, burst out laughing. “We might think that you’re starting to lose your sanity, Ma’am Ruru!”

Ruru pursed her lips. She tried to remember again how these scumbags end up being her employees. Emong was an out of school youth that her dad adopted as their funeral janitor because Santi’s father was getting old. After two years, Emong was promoted and became the Funeral’s receptionist with online gaming on the side. While Miko is the husband of the Minase’s former lady guard. When her wife got pregnant, he replaced her position as the Funeral Guard.

Meri, the janitress, was the prodigal daughter of a balut vendor beside the Minase. The old vendor begged for her to give his daughter a job because no company will accept an elementary undergraduate like her. Ruru sighed. All of them have a story tell. And, because of those stories, all of them stayed.

“What’s up?” Jelo arrived late again like he always does.

Ruru narrowed her eyes at her. “Is there an accident again in Tayuman Street?”

Jelo gasped. “How did you know? Did the body bring here for embalming?”

“Bastard,” Ruru muttered. “When will you stop using the same reason for your late?”

The man pushed back his white coat. Ruru’s brows furrowed. He wore the white coat on his way here? “What you’re thinking is right, Ruru,” he said and posed like a model. “I wear this coat on my way here, and I like the attention that people are giving me. Maybe they think that I’m a doctor—”

“That rides a public jeepney on his way to the hospital?” Santi cut off and laughed.

“Or, maybe people think that you’re a scientist in a coding vehicle,” Meri butt in. she’s sweeping the floor with her worn-out synthetic broom.

“Or, the reason why people look at you because they think that you’re out of your mind!” Ruru shouted and threw the stapled flyers to him. “Stop your narcissism and embalm the corpse inside!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Ruru,” Jelo said and laughed. “I can see your frown lines already—”

“Go away!” Ruru shouted. When Jelo disappeared into the changing room, she took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair. “We’re all odd here.”

__________

WITH one last light stroke of the paintbrush, Weeden finished his own version of Monalisa. He smiled broadly as he looked at its details closely. He has never been satisfied with his work like he felt with this one. The shades, blending, even the strokes of the brushes, Weeden got it all perfectly.

“Magnifique! Looked like the original,” he said and removed the painting carefully from the stand. “Monalisa in a smaller canvas done.”

He worked for it for six hours straight, and he can already feel the muscle pain in his upper and lower back. But it’s all worth it. The masterpiece in front of him is more than enough to be the payment. All he has to do is to send the pictures to the clients and start the bidding.

He was about to arrange his things scattered on the floor when his phone on the table vibrated. When he looked at it, his twin brother’s contact photo is flashing on the screen.

“Walter,” he said as he answered the phone.

“Weeden,” his twin brother answered back. He can sense the excitement in his voice. “Je me marie.”

“I watched the news,” he said and laughed. “And, I’m not going to the Philippines to attend your wedding,” he added in French.”

He heard Walter laughed from the other online. “Is that your final answer, mon cher frère?”

“You know why I don’t want to go there, Walter. And I won’t change my mind,” he said and was about to drop the call when he heard him spoke again.

“Miguel Amore,” he said in a casual tone. “I’m sure you know him. He’s the—”

“Sensational Mud Artist that got the Golden Lion Award in The Venice Biennale last year,” he finished. “What’s with him?” he asked, trying to hide his sudden excitement and curiosity.

“He will be at my wedding,” Walter said casually. “My fianceé hired him to make us a mud portrait on the wedding day.”

Weeden cursed under his breath. “When will your wedding be?”

***