Chapter 3
A/N: Thanks to all those who took time to read and review this story. You guys are awesome!
Disclaimer: Disney owns HSM not me. Any other familiar names mentioned in this story is not mine either.
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Sunday is "Pamper Sharpay" time.
Typically, she would be in bed taking her time to wake up. Sundays means tinkering around her apartment, go jogging, preparing a proper breakfast and in the afternoon treat herself to a wonderful spa.
Sunday is a day for rest and relaxation. A day where she needn't worry about deadlines or schedules. A day to de-stress and think about herself alone.
And why not think of herself at least one day of the week?
Working as senior press relations officer for Gucci in L.A. requires multi-tasking, a skill Sharpay happens to be extremely good with. But her job also means almost her entire week is spent in meetings with editors, stylists, creative designers and other influential people in the fashion industry; attending trunk shows and helping facilitate shoots for different publications, to name a few.
She isn't complaining or lamenting over the hectic days because she loves her job and wouldn't trade it for anything. In fact, she takes pride in what she does and she is offended by people who say that she doesn't need to be working for the simple reason that she's an Evans.
And Evans for a last name meant rich, crème de la crème of high society, getting everything and anything or whatever else the name denotes. The world can be tough even to people born into luxury because they give restrictions to what a rich kid should do with their lives. It's as if you cannot be good at anything when you're rich or they immediately assume you didn't work hard for a position like everybody else. But Sharpay does her best to balance the socialite and the working girl in her if only to keep most of her acquaintances happy -- in case she needs a favor or two from them in the future.
Come to think of it, she's also quite diplomatic when need be. And for those reasons alone, she not only deserves applause but also a break from a grueling week of work.
Sunday is always that day but at nine o'clock that morning when the incessant ringing of the telephone blared throughout her apartment rousing her from sleep and making her fall off the bed in her haste to answer the call, Sharpay knew this particular Sunday will not be hers to enjoy.
"This had better be good." Sharpay groaned into the phone not bothering to ask who the caller was. She slowly lifted her weight off the floor, cradling the phone between her neck and ears and climbed back onto the pink queen sized bed sighing as the feather trimmings of the bed spread tickled her skin. She was gradually slipping to blissful sleep again.
"I need a man, Sharpay. And I need it pronto."
Sharpay bolted upright pulling the eye mask from her face as she adjusted the phone to her ear. "Gabriella? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me and this is qualified as life and death situation for you."
"For me? What's that got to do with you needing a man?"
"The model didn't show! If you want to make the deadline for Elle magazine then you get your butt off the bed and come here at the studio."
"I am gonna kill that --"
"Sharpay --"
"I'm up!" She screeched in agitation sliding off the bed and heading for the bathroom. "I'll be there in thirty."
xxxxxxxx
As promised, thirty minutes later, a not so happy Sharpay walked through the door of the building structure she often referred to as a warehouse.
She was greeted by a few people she knew were members of Gabriella's staff as she made her way inside the studio, expertly maneuvering around a maze of things that were used as props -- racks of assorted clothing for men and women, rolls of backdrop paper in every imaginable scenery design, cardboard trees, animals and rocks, layers of bright fabrics hanging from pipes on the low ceiling, plastic food items, various kinds of tables and chairs, a collection of pillows, umbrella reflectors, several cameras on tripods and a variety of photographic equipment that she had no idea what was used for.
The place is spacious and cluttered as you would expect any photo studio but Sharpay, having spent enough time with Gabriella, knew the set like the back of her hand. She knows the first door is used as pantry that her best friend stacks with enough food to feed an army. The second door is Gabriella's office that adjoined to an adequately sized bedroom and bath that she uses when she cannot be bothered to drive home after a late photo shoot. And the third door led to a windowless room where a complicated machine develops the photographs.
She found a bare footed Gabriella, in a purple tank top and tight jeans, clicking away with a camera while a female model in an asymmetrical red party dress posed in front of a green backdrop paper as per Gabriella instructions.
"Look seductive." She ordered at the model, shoulders hunched while she assessed the pose snapping with the camera as she moved. "Great!"
"Belligerent."
The model straightened and looked at Gabriella in puzzlement. "What?"
Gabriella lowered the camera, her lips opening slightly. "Aggressive." She clarified patiently. "Spoiling for a fight . . . get it?"
The pretty blonde model nodded. Then her eyes scowled. Her lips puckered, stretching the carefully made up skin over high cheekbones. "That's perfect, Helena!" complimented Gabriella taking a series of shots. "Let's get you changed to the next clothing."
When Helena walked off the set, Gabriella turned away as well and was not surprised to find a sullen looking Sharpay slumped on an oversized couch. "Well?" She began, raising a challenging brow.
"I called the agency already and they said Jesse had a family emergency of some sort." Sharpay explained in a tone that showed her annoyance over such a lame excuse.
"Can they not send a replacement?"
"They're working on it but not promising anything. Their models are booked tight and those who aren't cannot be bothered because it's a Sunday. And it's not easy finding a man given your specific description."
Gabriella's brows scrunched in thought. Tomorrow, photos for the modeled Gucci clothes should be submitted or else there will be hell to pay. She would do away with the male model if she could but as it is, there were suits to be worn.
The creative designers at Gucci specifically requested Gabriella to do the photo shoot and Sharpay was to oversee it meaning she's the person to call when problems like this are encountered.
"I can't think of anything right now." She admitted, striding over to where Sharpay was seated and plopped down next to hers. "Except, like I said earlier, we need a man."
"Hey, who doesn't?" came the glib retort. "And quite frankly, you need one more than I do. I'm not talking about a model by the way."
Gabriella lightly slapped her arm. "In case you've forgotten, I'm married. I have a man."
Sharpay laughed, one that had a sardonic sound to it leaning back against the couch, arms crossed over her chest. "Says who? That wedding band you chained around your neck? Yeah right! What you have is a ghost. Not a man." She scoffed with an eye roll. "It's been what -- six months -- of living in one house yet both of you are like boarders in that mansion. You live on separate sides of that house. You don't even see each other at all! I can't believe you even suggested this kind of arrangement."
"It's for our best interests. No complications. And he was more than agreeable to it."
"What complications? It's complicated enough to begin with. Yes, of course he'll agree. He's a hot blooded male, Gabriella! He lives for the freedom to dally with many women and I very much doubt if Bolton believes in the word abstinence." Sharpay averred in agitation. "And do you really think you can keep this up for four years and six months more?"
Gabriella bit her lip uneasily. It was during their plane ride from Italy, the day after the wedding six months ago, that they were able to discuss the pressing matter of their living arrangement.
"So it's clear then? The east side is yours and the west is mine. There are common areas in the house but if you're as busy as me, I doubt you will find time to even use the kitchen or the living room." Troy, looking up from the newspaper he was reading, explained.
Gabriella remained gazing out the window. She was not in a conversing mood due to lack of sleep from the night before which was mostly caused by the man seated next to her. "Yeah, whatever." She snorted. "We're both single. We act like it."
There was a rustling of newspaper as he folded them while he eased sideways to face her. "Hey, I'm trying to iron out this mess we have! The least you can do is listen." He austerely said reaching a hand to touch her arm.
She recoiled at his touch like she was burned, hastily tugging her arm away from his grasp. The memory of last nights heated kiss flooding her mind causing her to tremble slightly. "I listened!" She insisted, annoyed with herself. "We live separately in one house. We go out as a couple only when absolutely necessary. We pretend to be a happily married pair to friends who think this marriage will actually work and to our family who wants to make sure we're sticking by the terms of this arranged marriage. We can go on dates with other people and have relationships with them so long as we're discreet. Is there anything else I didn't cover?"
Troy was taken aback by her outburst but he deftly concealed it with a blank face. "Yes, one thing . . . don't flinch when I touch you." He said which sounded more like an order to Gabriella.
Her eyes sent daggers his way and she poked his chest with a well polished nail. "Who the hell do you think you are?! I may be married to you but you do not own me. I will not be ordered around like some brainless tra--"
"Shut up." He muttered.
"No! You shut up and listen." She butted in crossly. "Understand this -- I am not one of your girls so do not treat me like one. I do not fancy you and I will not worship the ground you walk on. I agree to all these terms regarding our marriage but outside of it whatever I do is none of your fucking business and that includes flinching at your touch when I feel like it."
"God! You talk too much." He alleged with a fleeting look over his shoulder then in one fluid motion his hands were on both sides of her face cradling it with surprising tenderness.
Caught off guard, it took a second for Gabriella to recognize the gleam in his eyes before his lips came down on hers for a kiss. "N-No . . ." She dissented but Troy silenced her by deepening the pressure of his lips.
"Shut up and kiss me back." He whispered against her lips but he did not ease his grasp on her face.
If Troy had kissed her roughly, she would have fought him off. But the kiss was not as fierce as last night. It was soft and unhurried and sweet yet the effect on Gabriella was just as arousing.
With a helpless sigh, she obliged and just as softly brushed her lips against his; light feathery kisses that made her forget yet again the annoyance and hatred she felt toward him.
But before the world melted away around them, they heard a deliberate cough.
Reluctantly, Troy pulled away but his arm looped over Gabriella's shoulder drawing her closer to him and he looked up to see an elderly man in a checkered shirt and matching khaki pants waiting by the aisle for his attention.
"Mr. Roth!" He greeted the smiling man while Gabriella stiffened next to him recognizing the man as one of the wedding guests. "I didn't hear you approach." He shifted his weight a little to tell her, "Oh, babe, Mr. Roth here is a friend of my grandfather."
She nearly choked at the endearment but she forced a nod instead.
"I apologize for the intrusion, Troy, Gabriella." Mr. Roth amended with a chuckle. Gabriella offered him a disconcerted smile. Obviously, the old man wasn't really sorry. He looked more thrilled by what he witnessed. "I was just -- well, you know what -- never mind. It's not that important anyway."
"Are you sure, Mr.Roth? We don't mind." Troy urged sounding like he was in a jovial mood while he made a deliberate show of affectionately rubbing Gabriella's arm. It made Mr. Roth smile from ear to ear.
"I'm sure, Troy. I'm going. Continue where you left off."
Gabriella yanked his arm off once Mr. Roth left their side. "What was that?! Are you bipolar or something? Half the time I don't know how your mood swings pan out."
"That, Montez," He drawled cockily sitting up straight and pulling the newspaper tucked in front of him. "is how to pretend when we're around friends or family."
"Next time you pretend, don't consider kissing part of it!"
"Why not? Kissing is the easiest and most convincing way to pretend you care for someone. And besides, you seem to like it."
Gabriella huffed. If it wouldn't draw attention from the plane, she would have stomped her foot in frustration at Troy's nonchalance. "And you're the one who declared last night that it won't happen again."
Unexpectedly, he smirked at that and he looked at Gabriella with smiling eyes. "I did, didn't I?" He said. "Let me rephrase it then. Kissing won't happen again except when we have to make others believe that we're a loving married couple."
"Your cunning wit astounds me." She said sarcastically.
He continued to smile, bending his head to her ear then whispering, "If it helps any, I must say I like kissing you too."
Gabriella leaned away from him, the warmth of his breath against her ear was disrupting her thinking. "Don't even try to flatter me. Every guy likes to kiss girls. Doesn't matter who it is so long as it's a girl. And you're no exception."
"True. But in your case, Montez, I can't seem to control myself and that never happened to me before."
When they reached L.A., after Troy made some fake promise to his parents that they will plan a proper honeymoon soon, they stuck with the arrangement agreed upon. The last part of their conversation on the plane forgotten. And that was the last she saw of him.
It was strange at first, living in a different house knowing that in another end was her husband but once she got adjusted, she went on with her life like usual. But when most of the people she works with began constantly asking when they will get to meet him -- the elusive husband -- an uneasy feeling, she kept trying to ignore, surfaced.
She never voiced this to Sharpay but now that the subject is open . . . can she do it? Can she keep living with a stranger? Can she waste away five years for a man she doesn't care about only to keep Marissa's hands from her inheritance?
"Your silence answers my question loud and clear, Gabriella."
"I don't know if all this is worth it, Sharpay. If I stay married, Marissa won't get my inheritance but by then I would have spent five years in a marriage that kept me from finding Mr. Right. Cheesy as it sounds, but I want to get married to a man I love and who loves me back." She avowed suddenly feeling depressed as the reality of her situation came crashing down. "If I decide to end this now, Marissa gets everything that my father and mother had worked hard for. And I don't know if I can take knowing that."
Sharpay's face dropped sadly as she reached out to hug Gabriella. "I'm so sorry, Gabs. I can't decide for you on these but just know that whether you need me or not, I'm always here."
"I'm here for you too, Shar, whenever, wherever." They exchanged smiles that bellied the strong bond they developed over the course of their friendship. Both silently acknowledging their luck to find a friend in one another.
"Well," Sharpay breathed breaking the poignant moment after a while. "this is fun and all, Gabs, but we strayed too far on the problem at hand -- we still need this man!"
Giggling, Gabriella nodded. "I never thought we'd need a man this bad." She looked up to see Helena had already changed into a little black dress and was walking back into the set. "I trust your powers of finding solutions." With that, she left Sharpay and attended to her model.
A good hour and a half later, a grinning Sharpay joined Gabriella in the pantry and helped herself with a bottle of Evian from the fridge. "We have a lunch date." She informed then took a swig of water.
Gabriella lifted a brow. "With who?"
"Don't know." Sharpay shrugged sketchily. "It's a blind date Taylor Mckessie set up for me a few weeks back. You know Taylor back in high school, the decathlon president, class valedictorian. I've been putting it off but now seem like a perfectly good time."
"Uhuh. Why now? Aren't you forgetting the male model we need for the shoot?"
"Oh that . . . I asked for a few hours extension from Elle. They said yes."
"Okaay . . . so why do you need me for this date?"
"It's a double date. I told Taylor I'm bringing you along so she in turn told the guy to bring a friend too." Sharpay held up a hand to stop anymore questions from Gabriella. "And before you say another word, we can use this opportunity to find the man we need for the shoot because according to Taylor this guy is supposedly a hunk."
"I can't go on a date!" Gabriella objected shaking her head vigorously at the idea.
"Not in those clothes, you can't." Sharpay remarked with a quick once over of Gabriella's clothing.
"That's not what I mean and you know it." She insisted in exasperation.
Leaning both hands on the table, Sharpay said, "Unless you can tell me with a 100 percent certainty that your husband has not seen, dated or screwed another female over the past six months then I won't force you to come on this date."
Gabriella buried her head between her hands and closed her eyes in lethargy. She had no argument over that. They were both also well aware of Troy Bolton's reputation regarding women. And even if she tried to argue that dating while she's married is against her principles, knowing Sharpay, it will be a futile effort.
"I bet you, Bolton is not wasting time while he's married to you. So you shouldn't either. Dating is one way to meet Mr. Right."
"Or Mr. Wrong."
"The point is if you do not do something about your love life right now, it will stay that way for the next four years and half that you're with Bolton. And if I recall correctly, the last relationship you were in was with that Todd guy. That's like junior in college."
"Oh right, this is coming from you, the girl with a love life." Gabriella derided.
"I may not have one, but I'm working on it. It takes patience to find The Man." Sharpay quipped back unperturbed. "My standards are high so there has to be many to choose from."
Gabriella ran her hands through her messy curls and sighed jadedly. "Fine, you win."
"Perfect! This is gonna be a fun Sunday afterall!" Sharpay cheered. "I can feel it."
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