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9. INT. STA. LUCIA MALL - ADMINISTRATION OFFICE – THE NEXT DAY

They were in a single room; the three main stars of Habagat, and the latest sensation on the showbiz scene (and current guest star) Lilith Montemayor.

As par for the course of the Habagat Mall Tour, all four have come in character.

Thus, Luis is resplendent and heroic in his Habagat costume, while ACE PENTANOCHE, twenty-six, who began his career as a commercial model, is dressed in the villainous garb of Suspiria. Both Lilith and CASSANDRA RICAFORTE, meanwhile, have come as Lillian and Lalaine, respectively.

Being the newcomer to this experience, Lilith is understandably quiet, subdued, leaving most of the talking to the others, particularly Ace and Cassandra, who have been in an on-again, off-again relationship practically since the fantaserye began.[1]

“I’m telling you,” Cassandra complains, compulsively flipping the tiny note pad in her hand (her Lalaine prop) open and shut, “my character is so underwritten these days,” casting a withering glare at Lilith, who seems not to notice, much to Luis’ relief.

“E, yung suggestion mo kay Direk? Yung all-Lalaine episode?” Ace offers, to soothe the savage note pad-flipping beast.

“Where I discover who my real parents are, and we get to hint more about our shared past?” she says, running her fingertip coyly along Ace’s collarbone, then down to the Sig icon on his chest.

“Yeah,” Ace responds, his voice huskier all of a sudden.

Cassandra slaps Ace’s chest with an open palm.

“Ow!” jerking back, looking, for that moment, rather like a p-whipped supervillain.

Cassandra turns away huffily. “Sabi daw ng producers it takes too much screen time and visibility away from the other characters.” She rolls her eyes, sighs. “As usual, takot sila na mag-di-dip yung precious ratings nila.”

“Pero paano babagsak yung ratings, sweets, e, that’s one whole episode of you?” Ace answers, still rubbing his chest to take away the sting.

“That’s terribly sweet of you, Ace, but we musn’t ever, ever forget,” swiveling the laser turret of her gaze towards Luis now. “The show is titled Habagat, not Lalaine.”

Luis, relaxed, arms crossed over his chest, half-sitting, half-leaning on one of the room’s desks, replies, “And you musn’t ever, ever forget, Cass, that the `precious ratings’ bring in the sponsors, and the sponsors keep us on the air, and while on the air, we have steady jobs.”

Cassandra’s eyes go wide, and there is a sharp intake of breath, her hand going to her ample bosom. “Really?! I never knew that!”

Luis smiles serenely at her, refusing to get riled.

Cassandra’s head swivels suddenly (and Luis remembers the Director’s Cut of The Exorcist, expecting Cassandra’s head to revolve 360 degrees and for a stream of green vomit to come spewing out of her mouth), targeting Lilith now.

“What about you, Lilith,” she purrs, as a particularly sadistic cat would to a defenseless baby mouse, “what do you think of the `art vs. industry’ issue?”

Lilith meets Cassandra’s gaze, gives the question a moment’s consideration, then answers, “Sa akin, it’s simple. It’s about the job. It’s not about the money. And it’s not about egos.

“It’s about the job. Dapat may integrity yung trabaho, dapat may integrity yung trabahador.”

Cassandra, uncertain if her parsing of Lilith’s statement is accurate (Ininsulto ba ako ng malditang `to?), is speechless; Luis is impressed, nodding agreement; Ace is still rubbing his chest, hoping that slap won’t leave a mark, as he’s on the ramp tonight for a Bench underwear fashion show.

“You are so right,” Luis says. “Integrity. People look up to us. Hindi lang yung pagka-artista natin, but they look up to our characters, too.”

And even as Lilith graces Luis with a small smile of gratitude, Cassandra perceives a flaw in her co-star’s argument.

“Ah, but you can’t seriously be saying,” backhanding Ace’s chest this time, “that people actually look up to him.”

Ace scowls, pointedly taking a step back, out of range of Cassandra’s offending and potentially lethal, career-damaging hand.

Luis holds up a finger, looking like Habagat about to tell a roomful of school children, “Kids, kailangan magsipilyo kayo every night.”

“First of all, diba sina-suggest ng writers sa mga scripts na there’s more to Suspiria than one-dimensional `Ako yung kontrabida’? So, may implication na redeemable pa yung character.”

“Thanks, paré,” Ace grins, honestly grateful.

“You’re welcome,” Luis replies. “That’s the best case scenario. Worst case, nakikita ng audience-- ng mga bata, especially-- what they shouldn’t be. So, still, example pa rin si Suspiria.”

Ace shakes his head in amazement, his hopefully-not-too-bruised chest forgotten for the moment. “Alam mo, I never thought of it like that. Ako pa naman si Suspiria.”

Cassandra fumes, but keeps her peace for the moment.

Luis notes with a genuine thrill that Lilith’s smile has becomes broader, warmer.

But the particularly sadistic cat has thought of a new toy to play with.

“Well, then, going back to the job,” smirking at Luis, “balita ko you fainted on set. That’s so 21st-century sensitive man of you, Luis! Next thing I know, in interviews, you’ll be saying metrosexual ka. Are you all right? Are you eating? Getting enough sleep? Baka mamaya, next week wala nang Habagat sa Habagat.”

Wish mo lang, Luis thinks, annoyed, but refusing to let it show. As he responds to Cassandra’s exquisitely barbed remark, he is peripherally aware of a pained look of genuine concern from Lilith.

“I’m fine,” he smiles, straightening and getting to his feet, planting his fists firmly on his hips in one of Habagat’s standard astig poses. “Pagkapuyat lang `yon,” he proclaims in his deep Habagat voice.

“Yes,” Cassandra replies, her smile so horribly plastic it could be marketed to astounding success by Tupperware, “but do take care of yourself.”

“Oo, paré,” Ace says, moving towards Luis and mock-punching him in the stomach, then, making a pained face and shaking his hand, as if he has just punched concrete, or steel, “at first akala ko kasalanan ko. Na baka I was too rough with you sa fight scene natin. Tapos I dragged you pa across the floor.

“Ingatan mo health mo, Luis. Like Cass pointed out, you’re Habagat. We can’t have the show without Habagat.”

Luis grins, holds out his fist, which Ace knocks with a fist of his own.

“Thanks, Ace.”

Cassandra shakes her head in disgust, appalled at the density Ace can display sometimes.

Just then, her cell rings, the “Sige, Bounce! Sige, Shine!” jingle tinnily sounding.[2] (Cassandra is presently the spokesmodel for Care 8-Teen shampoo.)[3]

“Mm,” she says by way of greeting. “Sige. We’ll be right out.”

She hangs up, replaces her cell in her purse.

“Gentlemen…”

“And lady,” Luis says, gallantly offering an arm to Lilith, who blushes, then accepts, gently laying her hand on his elbow.

Cassandra’s right eyebrow arches. “The fans await.”

And as a group, the four stars of Habagat exit the room, Ace absently whistling the Care 8-Teen jingle.

The distant screaming of fans is already audible from a long, long, long way off.

1 The initial romantic dynamic of the show had both hero and villain vying for the love of Lalaine. The reporter, though clearly attracted to Habagat, shares a past with Suspiria not yet fully disclosed to the audience, and thus, is torn between the two supermen.

The romantic tension caused by the triangle nearly replicated itself in real life, except Luis was smart enough to note that Cassandra definitely had the hots for Ace, and immediately quashed any dormant feelings he may have had for her.

(He was also smart enough to note that Cassandra was a real b*tch.) [back]

2 This is the most insidious and virulent musical meme since Kylie Minogue’s aptly-titled “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head.”

It is the kind of commercial jingle even two-year old toddlers pick up after a single exposure, then sing incessantly, thus passing it on to siblings, mothers, and playmates, like the virus that it is. [back]

3 The Care 8-Teen shampoo commercial features Cassandra Ricaforte singing (and going through the dance steps to) the “Sige, Bounce! Sige, Shine!” jingle, while her long silky hair does not so much bounce, as writhe.

What is universally thought of by the public as digitally-enhanced bouncing hair is, in actuality, the effect of undiluted Care 8-Teen shampoo on human hair, giving temporary life to dead cells.

The Care 8-Teen shampoo commercially available on supermarket shelves is actually 97% tap water, and 3% Care 8-Teen shampoo concentrate. (The concentrate has been used in any number of Asian horror films, though arguably to best effect in Higuchinsky’s Uzumaki.)

In addition, the anti-dandruff variant of Care 8-Teen shampoo is also of particular interest, though we shall take a closer look at that at some later date. [back]

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