Chapter 12 After the Storm
A/N: A thousand apologies to all who have waited for me! Okay, the reason I haven't updated for over a year was because I was addicted to Ragnarok Online, a MMORPG that totally hooked me! And now that I've reached a respectable level, I decided that it isn't fair to abandon my fics. So please forgive me, gomen-nesai!
Selphie's predictions were only half correct. True, the media were having a field day, but she couldn't have gauged just how much.
Ellone stared in disbelief at the papers in her hand. She deliberately avoided Martine's amused gaze as she read through each and every one of them.
"The Lion Roars Again," She half muttered as she tossed a tabloid aside. The one below it sported a less sensational headline, but it jumped out like an eyesore nevertheless. "Fashion Tycoon tops Transport Giant,"
"I never dreamt he would..." Selphie's mouth was gaping like a goldfish as she read through a three-page coverage on last-night's affair. "Seven million gil." She said faintly. "Seven million gil. That's almost twice the price of his wedding bands."
"Actually the price tripled when he decided to auction them off," Ellone muttered half-heartedly. "Selphie, when you said 'rebound', did it include full media coverage?"
"It's a bonus, I think," Selphie said faintly. "Look at the size of that sapphire," She breathed. "Where is it now?"
"Maybe in his safety box at the bank," Ellone laughed as she folded the tabloids and set them on the side drawers. "Too bad Quistis left early for a magazine shoot – I'm sure her reaction would be priceless."
"Where's Squally?" Selphie sipped her orange juice and Ellone pursed his lips. "I don't know. He left even earlier than Quistis did."
At that moment, the man was stuck in a five-kilometer traffic jam in the heart of the city. He was frustrated – slammed on his horn, cursed, swore and did everything an agitated driver would; but nothing worked. The cards remained in gridlock. Sighing resignedly, he slumped down in his seat and tried to clear his mind. So many things had happened at once that thinking was a painful process nowadays. He cranked up the radio and closed his eyes...
Until a sharp knock on his window made him open them again. He frowned as he sat up straight and looked out.
A filthy tramp grinned toothily back. Squall's expression took on a mortified-cum-surprised look. The tramp grinned again and motioned for him to wind down the window. Feeling unsure, he wound it slightly, just enough to hear what the man was saying.
"Ah saw ye in the papers t'day!" The tramp cackled and Squall frowned. "What?!"
"Ye, ye and ye women!" The tramp was gleefull as he fished out a crumpled page of newspaper and pressed it to the window.
The first line made Squall swear and he started to wind his window down fully when the tramp retreated, wagging his finger. "That'll cost ya, mate."
Cursing traffic jams, tabloids and tramps in general, he fished out a note from his pocket and threw it out, whereas the tramp threw the paper in, cackling gleefully.
"Oy!!" The car behind him yelled. "Move it already!! Idiot!"
Squall hurriedly eased the car a few feet until it came to a stop again, and quickly looked at the dirty page again. The picture was blurry and some of the words looked like they were covered in ketchup, but he had no problem understanding.
Last night's news had spread like wildfire.
He, Squall Leonheart was back in the news.
And this time the media found someone to gossip him with.
"Quistis, are you alright?"
Quistis stared wild-eyed at the makeup artist, who looked concerned. "W-What?"
"I asked, are you alright? You look pale," The plump woman repeated as she packed up her brushes. "Did something in the news shock you?"
Quistis' eyes returned to the paper. It had seemed so innocent, lying on the dresser... until Quistis picked it up. Now she threw it back like it was a time bomb. Her heart was beating harder than usual, and a headache was gathering momentum at the back of her head. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and a terrified woman looked back. She felt the urge to bolt, but Yuna's voice outside made her stop. The others haven't read it, she calmed herself down. It doesn't seem fair for her to back out just because some stupid reporter gossiped her with Squall and they found out she once dumped buttered prawns on his head and she was expelled from Esthar Arts Institution –
"Quisty!" Yuna called cheerfully from the other room. "What's taking you so long, girl? Come on, I want you to meet a friend."
"The highlighter I put in your hair will fade when exposed to bright light for too long," The makeup woman warned. "Better get moving or they'll have to put up with lousy shoots."
Quistis stumbled out on leaden legs and stared blankly at Yuna, who was chatting with a middle-aged man in a business suit. The man caught sight of her and Yuna turned around. "This is Kiros, the owner of Flagen Agency in Galbadia. Mr. Kiros, this is Quistis Trepe."
"A pleasure to meet you, young lady," Kiros shook her hand and she returned it limply. "You too." She managed a weak smile and Yuna beamed. 'now go show what you can do." Yuna urged and Quistis stood in front of the camera, feeling like she had never done this before. It was alien to her, this surreal bright atmosphere. This fake setting, the hustle behind the scenes.
"Alright, ready, go!"
Without really thinking, she automatically smiled and struck a pose.
Watching her, Yuna frowned slightly. Quistis seems preoccupied. Sure, her shots were as marvelous as always, but she knew the smile was nowhere near natural.
"Amazing," Kiros muttered as he sifted through the Polaroid shots. "She's amazing. Look at that! Her smile is natural!"
You're blind, Yuna thought blithely but kept smiling. "What do you think?"
"Well," Kiros pursed his lips. "She's having a good start here in Esthar... But let me see how she does first. She's still new at this, you say?"
"Yes, just a few weeks roughing it."
"One would call it a tryout, that's what they'd call it," Kiros muttered as he picked up a photo and examined it closely. Quistis had finished the first part and was off to the dressing room to change costumes. "Will she be interested in Deling? We can pay her as much as Garden can."
Yuna shrugged. It didn't occur to her that Quistis was doing it solely for the money. "It's better if you speak to her, Mr. Kiros. I don't think she appreciates being seconded."
Kiros nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to her later. Meanwhile, about the Spring Contract..."
Martine straightened his coat and gloves and discreetly knocked on Squall's door. The door flew open almost immediately and an ominous looking man poked his head out. "Martine, tell those bloody paparazzi to get out of my front yard NOW. They're attracting too much attention." Squall growled and slammed the door again before Martine had a change to respond. Sighing, he made his way down the stairs and met a chagrined-looking Rikku in the waiting hall. "Martine, they're ruining the roses," Rikku wrung her hands in distress. "Madame will be soooo angry at me!"
"Calm down, I'll try to shoo them out, Rikku." Martine sighed. "Paparazzi are like curry stains – they're so difficult to remove once they're in. How did we get them off the front lawn the last time, Rikku?"
Rikku bit her lower lip and blinked at the ceiling. "Um... I can't recall much, but I remember it has something to do with Madame – "
"WHAT ARE YOU MORONS DOING ON MY ROSES?!" A thundering voice caused a camping paparazzi to choke on his morning coffee. The front window on the second floor was thrown open and Ellone stood there, her anger making her look bigger than she really is. "Get out of my lawn! Get out get out get out!!! Or else I'll have you all castrated!!!!"
As if seconding her words, the kitchen door opened and Quina the cook waddled out, brandishing a huge butchering knife. A few seconds later the only signs of the paparazzi were several cups of abandoned lattes on the grass.
Ellone huffed. "Rikku! Get the gardened to repair my roses!!! And Quina, find a bigger knife for next time!"
"Me will find bigger knife," Quina said gleefully as he/she waddled back inside.
Martine exchanged looks with Rikku for a moment. "Was that how Madame did it?"
"Moui... I didn't know men were so afraid of castration." Rikku mused doubtfully as she trounced away.
Martine slipped silently to the dining hall to find Quistis sitting there, nursing her headache with a cup of strong black coffee. "Are you sure that is wise, Miss Trepe?" Martine asked gently and Quistis gazed blearily at him. "Anything goes, Martine. I'm so tired I can't think clearly. If Quina didn't point out I was pouring salt into my coffee instead of sugar I wouldn't have noticed either."
Martine chuckled and gently took her fingers away from her toast. "I believe you slathered mayonnaise instead of butter on your toast, Miss."
Quistis looked extremely chagrined as she sighed and massaged her head. "I'm sorry Martine, don't tell Ellone, please. I don't want her to worry."
"I believe she is already worrying," Martine said quietly. "You miss your meals often nowdays, Miss, and although Master doesn't say it, I know he worries too."
Quistis said nothing, just slumped lower. Ever since the first blast of media coverage, she had Squall barely spoke to each other. It was as if whatever they uttered would be stamped in print and used against them. Not even a hello. And the bad thing is, the media isn't giving up. They stalk her continuously, trying to get her to talk while she as between shoots, even when Zell had tried to protect her by pushed them away. Quistis thanked him, but decided to walk alone now, because she was afraid they were going to pin her with someone else.
She glanced at her watch and groaned a little. "I don't feel like going any where..."
"Perhaps the driver can send you," Martine suggested helpfully. "Madame is not going anywhere today and the driver is – "
"I'll send you."
The sudden pronouncement instantly stopped her heartbeat and she stood bolt upright. Squall stood in the doorway, looking as immaculate as ever in a dark shirt and slacks. And wearing a look that was a watered down version of her misery.
'An excellent idea," Martine said happily. "I'll open the garage." He got up and hurried away while Squall sat down at his customary place, which happens to be directly opposite Quistis. She wanted to get up, but since he had offered to drive her, she had nowhere to run. She looked at her cold coffee and wondered what to say. Not that there was something to say, it just wasn't polite to sit at the same tale without saying a word. Would 'good morning' be too late or 'how are you' too formal?
"Is that all you're eating?"
Thank god Squall decided to open his mouth first, even if the words aren't what she was expecting. She tried to smile and nod until her eyes fell on the absolutely thick piece of toast he was buttering. Squall doesn't eat that much, and he doesn't like butter, a part of her mind was saying.
Without a word he passed the toast onto her plate and settled back. 'Eat."
A streak of rebellion, fueled by the dissatisfaction she was feeling made her glare at him ominously. "Since when did I elevate you to 'parent' status?"
Squall shrugged. Truth be, he was kind of relieved to have her talking again. Lately he only saw her late at night or very early in the morning. Her schedule had become more hectic than his, and he was getting worried. Over the past few weeks, she had transformed into someone he barely knew, instead of the smiling Quistis who accompanied him to the fated ball.
Quistis looked like she was going to say something, but decided against it and picked up the toast. "I'm going to pile on the kilos, you know," She gingerly nibbled and Squall snorted. "Like you can. The only thing you've been gaining these days is less sleep and less food. This should restore some equilibrium to your system."
"Oh, so now you're my nutritionist?"
"Take it from someone who's been through it."
"Who, you?" She looked curiously at him and Squall shook his head. "No...Ellone went through that phase too. She was about as think as a rake before I could convince her to eat a piece of toast. And it was all because the Daily Mirror commented she looked pregnant."
"They did?"
"It was because she was pregnant," Squall sighed. "But because of it, the baby miscarried..."
Quistis stared at her toast and peeked at her reflection on the mirror a little way off. She didn't think she looked fat, but she wasn't as thin as she'd hoped to be. She tried to imagine herself as a pregnant woman but the image just won't materialize.
"You're not fat." Squall suddenly said and Quistis blinked at him. "I don't think I am either. But you might just make me fat if the toast you're buttering is for me." She gestured her half-eaten toast to his and he grinned. "Of course not. It's mine."
Rinoa absently pushed a strand of hair over her ear as she mused on what color to buy. She had a break in her schedule for the week and decided to use the opportunity to shop. Since Esthar's Mega Mall was having a whooping sale, it seemed such a shame not to spend.
She paused before a rack of stylized caftans and pondered whether she would have any use for them. She was not particularly fond of Esthar's newest fashion craze, but there was this thing called 'peer pressure' that she had to obey. After rummaging for some time, she realized the caftans didn't have a price tag on them. Frowning, she selected a piece in baby-blue and took it to the counter. "Excuse me, how much is this? You've forgotten then price."
The guy at the counter scratched his head. "Um... I don't know missy. Why don't you ask the guy over there? He's the co-owner." He pointed to a blonde man who was busy checking the stock at the back.
Rinoa's heart jumped, somersaulted and did a backflip before thudding hard in her chest. Even though she couldn't see his face, and that his hair seemed longer, who was she trying to kid? She had seen every inch of him for god's sake, enough to recognize him if he was hidden under seven layers of clothing.
"Mr. Almasy?" The counter clerk called. "There's a problem here."
A/N: A BIG problem, coming up! Say something please, I even accept nuclear warheads.
