It’s sad enough that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning; but earning extra allowance during my off day couldn’t be that bad. Sadly, it is written on the stars that the easy breezy type of work will never be for me. There I was, staring at TVXQ’s gigantic poster outside the stadium like a retard, in the midst of faithful cheering fans waiting outside. I didn’t need to be told that my next fourteen hours of work will require high physical ability and noise tolerance. I should have guessed – Mrs. Shim knows my boss whom has a TVXQ son.

 

 

 

Damn.

 

 

 

The job here is ten times more burdensome than in the restaurant though the concert only lasts for the day; still the constant deafening scream of the faithful fan girls are the best thing – to ignore. Thank heavens that I’m not arranged to work anywhere near the stage.

 

Basically, my work includes cleaning and assisting the TVXQ crew; and yes, I will be working for TVXQ themselves this time, tough luck. My fate is so bleak I didn’t even feel like talking to anyone, so I kept to myself most of the time, hiding myself in a beanie, a mask, and an XL sized staff tee; and communicate only when necessary.

 

So now, here I am, alone in the TVXQ headquarters, doing my work without any disruption. The high physical ability that I was referring to earlier simply means I will have to move heavy objects, and my stature was not at all helpful in this situation. However, I loved the fact that I have the whole room to myself, doing my best in making the room more comfortable for TVXQ in my own pace.

 

 

Everything was smooth sailing till the storm came, which was when the big shots entered while I was nearly finishing the changing rooms. Along of them were their faithful manager, tour manager, make-up artist, costume manager, hairstylists and another few staffs whom are in charge of the nitty-gritty. In a blink of an eye, the tranquility was polluted with various noises. Annoyed, I put on my headphones and started the vacuum machine.

 

The temperature rose almost instantly the moment the room was occupied with more than fifteen people; and the yellow lightings in the changing room area only makes the whole room looks like a sauna. It felt so warm; I took off my beanie, my jacket and my facemask and continue feeding my vacuum cleaner with dust.

 

 

 

I was halfway through cleaning the full length mirror in one of the empty cubicles when suddenly I felt a cold shiver running up my spine. I looked into the mirror I was cleaning, and on it reflected my image, behind me a tall tanned guy looking on. When our eyes met, I died and my soul went straight up to heaven; leaving my body standing right there like an empty shell. He’s not exactly handsome, but there was this mysterious charm about his eyes. However, this pair eyes is so strangely similar to the pair of mismatched eyes belonging to my landlady’s M.I.A. son, as shown on their family portrait in his room.

 

 

Could he be the M.I.A. guy? I turned around to get a clearer view of him. He appeared really tall and tanned, with unruly long hair and distinct facial features; similar yet different to the geeky boy in the Shim family portrait. Before I could say anything, the corner of his unusually dry lips curled up, and away he went.

 

 

 

My god, did he just smirked?

 

 

Puh-Leeez! I’d rather kiss the buttocks of a baboon than to go out with you! How arrogant could that guy be! I’m taking back those things I said about me dying and my soul going up to heaven. Why okay, I did die - died when I looked at the face of such a hideous egoistical, bigheaded, overconfident, haughty and conceited guy with cracking dry lips! Mysteriously charming, my foot!

 

 

I rubbed the mirror with extra force, jumping with extra might, desperate to get this frustration off me. Wait a minute. Why am I even bothered with such a nobody? I recomposed myself; looking into the mirror I smiled, adjusted my spectacles, flattened my hair a bit and assured myself that I won’t see him again. Taking in a deep breath and then letting it out, I made my finishing touches, kept my props in the janitor’s trolley and proceeded to the next cubicle.

 

 

I opened the door only to find the same revolting dude that irritated me so much earlier, only this time, he looked so much different with his top off. Who would have known underneath those garments was an impressive physique, inclusive of the broad muscular shoulders, interesting looking moobs, and proportionately toned chocolate abs. Did I just praise him? Well you know, his body is not all that flattering, you eventually get sick after looking at it for a while.

 

 

‘Hey!’ I shouted, trying to think of what to say next. ‘Why…why are you in here?’

 

 

Okay, I admit that it was a stupid question to ask, I’m giving myself away here. I should’ve said something like ‘Do you need a tutorial on how to lock the door?’ or something witty rather than ‘Why are you in here?’

 

 

, now he’s looking at me thinking that I’m the ert and that I’m so excited that he’s half-, while in fact he’s the attention craving one, not even bothered to lock the door while changing so that girls may barge in halfway and see him in his undressed state.

 

 

‘Of course I’m changing, this is a changing room isn’t it?

 

 

Yeah, like duh I know it’s a changing room. The problem lies with you, Mr. Freak, not me.

 

‘Why didn’t you lock the door?’

 

Okay, that didn’t come out right. I’m supposed to sound demanding, but it sounded a bit, weak? I admit, it is extremely distracting to talk to a guy whom is looking straight into your eyes when he’s half . What’s more infuriating is that he’s making it seem as if I’m one of his lunatic fan girls whom couldn’t get enough of seeing him on TV programs and radio shows. God. This is just…God.

 

 

Suddenly, I noticed him walking towards me, with eyes that shield me from reading his mind. My heart thumped wildly against my chest as he gets closer, and I took a few steps back, when finally, he shut the door on my face.

 

 

Christ! I’m taking back all the positive things I said about him! And what’s with his constant smirking huh? Even if he’s the only guy left on earth, I’d NEVER, EVER go out with him. He can save his nonsensical playboy tactics on another naive fan girl instead of wasting it on me, someone whom is not even bothered if TVXQ exists. He can have that dirty cubicle to himself; I refuse to clean it for him.

 

 

I returned the janitor’s trolley to the storeroom and emptied the rubbish bin before reporting to my supervisor.

 

 

‘You, go to Room 4 and stay there. Do whatever the staff there tells you to do.’

 

 

 

Room 4 equals the room that I cleaned earlier, equals Chamber of Torture.

 

 

 

The TVXQ staffs aren’t exactly the nicest people when they are in their working mode, not that they are rude or inconsiderate; I guess they are just overstressed and overworked. Everything has to be done fast and right, with no questions asked. From repairing faulty hairdryers, to untangling unruly microphone wires, I had to cover it all, one-leg-kicking. The worst chore that I had to do was to get this specific gastric pill which only God knows what it is, as ordered by the manager, and if I fail to obtain it by 10 minutes, I can forget about my wages.

 

 

If running out of a stadium to the nearest pharmacy with your hair plastered on your face looks stupid, try falling face down in the middle of the zebra crossing on the road. Still, I had no time to care about the scratches on my face or my swollen knee, it’s my blood and sweat earned allowances we are talking about here. With much turmoil I ran back to the backstage with the drugs, passing the manager the pills while catching my breath.

 

 

The manager screened me from head to toe, obviously disgusted with my unsightly appearance. ‘We don’t need it anymore. He’s fine.’ He said, still holding the pills, and walked away.

 

I leaned on the wall, still trying to catch my breath. On the alleyway, people were rushing in and out, one of them screaming, ‘Fifteen minutes!’ I guess this is it – the concert is about to begin. Putting on my beanie and facemask, I removed myself from the wall and made my way to Room 4 for more gruesome instructions.

 

 

‘Hey! You! Where’d you think you’re going?’

 

A hand grabbed my arm and I turned around, surprised that the tour manager was holding on to me.

 

‘I’m going back to Room 4, Sir,’ I said.

 

‘You stick to what you are paid to do, and not lingering around, okay?’

 

I thought I’m paid to assist in Room 4, but it seems like the tour manager has other plans for me. Submissively, I followed a crew member to another room which was filled with even more people, busying with their costumes and make-up.

 

Ha! Backup dancers!

 

In no time, I was pushed into a changing room with a pink dress. I scrutinized the dress, wondering the last time I allowed myself to wear one. A loud bang came from the other side of the door, ‘3 minutes, you there! Hurry!’, and I quickly stripped and squeeze into the dress, which, to my surprise, fitted me perfectly. Wow. It definitely has been some time since I last looked at myself in the mirror…did I just…lose weight?

 

‘You! Get out now!!’

 

I didn’t need them to shout for me twice; after keeping my clothes and belongings in the locker provided at the side, I ran back to where I was supposed to get my make-up done. As I sat in front of the mirror, I squinted, trying to get a clearer view of how I look without spectacles and with make-up on. Of course, these are all superficial; I wouldn’t look good without these enhancements, would I?

 

The costume manager appeared behind me. ‘Alright, she’s it.’

 

What you mean I’m it?

 

A basket filled with fake cash was handed to me. I couldn’t help but turn to the guy whom passed it to me, even though my hair was being styled halfway.

 

‘What- ’ I tried to say, but I was interrupted by the guy.

 

‘I’m as clueless just as you are, but that girl isn’t showing up. We had to find someone else to do it. Apparently the costume manager thinks you are the right one as a replacement.’

 

‘But what am I supposed to with these?’ My head was adjusted back to face the mirror as I pushed the basket away.

 

‘You will be attached to a string, and lifted around 4 to 5 feet above the ground, probably higher, and all you have to do is be graceful, dance your ballet or whatever, and throw the paper money on the stage when you see the red light signal from the end of the stadium.’ The guy was whispering all the way, looking around, making sure that the tour manager, or TVXQ’s manager is out of sight. I must be mistaken by the tour manager as the girl involved in the opening act of the concert. I wonder if we would be in hot soup if the manager finds out.

 

I pulled the crew staff next to me as the hairstylist turned my chair to face her.

 

‘What makes you all think I’m going to agree to take her place?’

 

Loud cheers could be heard from outside and the situation in the room became tense. Backup dancers ran out, getting ready for the opening act; supervisors were screaming, and the remaining staffs quicken their pace in their respective chores. In no time, the opening music is played, marking the beginning of the concert.

 

‘Please, Miss, you are the only one we have here. We know it would be dangerous to do such a stunt but it has been tested and we ensure your safety throughout your stunt. The allowance can be discussed.’

 

If I were to say no, I should have said no till the end, but in the end, I’m standing alone up here, with another stage props crew member holding on to my waist, ready to let me go when its time to fly. Or rather fall to my death.

 

Ah, touch wood. Not in a TVXQ concert. Dying here would be such an insult to my dignity.

 

But have you any idea how scary it would be flying a few feet off the ground with only a string attached behind? It’s not that I have a phobia towards heights; but all these came to sudden to me. Doing ballet stuff up there? Yeah, like I’m so well known for my elegance back in Hawaii. Besides, dancing in this dress…hopefully no one looks up from down there.

 

In the midst of contemplating, I felt a soft nudge by the crew member behind. Sure enough, the red light came one, telling me that my time of backing out from doing this is up. It’s time to fly and throw money over TVXQ. Sounds easy, but you won’t know how nervous I felt when the crew member finally let go off me while I stepped off the edge.

 

At first, I attempted to pose gracefully, but the swinging motion of the string and me as its pendulum gave me no time to think about poise or ballet. I started to drop the fake cash as I was swung back and forth, wishing hard that it will work well, and that no one from the stage, or the audience would notice me.

 

Just as I was getting the hang of it, the crew member pulled me back, as I realized my prized bracelet was slipping off my wrist. I tried to reach out to get it back, but the crew member, thinking I was making a suicide attempt held on to me even tighter, and I watched my bracelet fell on one of the black figure dancing below.

 

I must never lose that bracelet. Determined to get it back, I ran all the way down to the stage. I know I will be crucified if I were to barge in in the middle of the show so I waited at the side till they are done with their dance. However, before I could pursue my missing bracelet, I was pulled back once again.

 

‘Alright,’ said the same crew member earlier, ‘the girl is here. You job here is done. Go get changed.’

 

I smiled. ‘You’re forgetting something?’

 

The crew guy reached out into his pocket and out came a brown paper envelope.

 

 

***

 

 

Back in the torture chamber, I was once again made the odd-job worker, cleaning up after the TVXQ members and the other staff. During intervals, TVXQ would enter the room and change into their consecutive costumes, have a drink, chew on a snack or two, and then out they go again, cheering on their way, leaving me to clean up their peeled banana skin or bread plastic wrapper.

 

Even here in the Gents, I could hear the mad cheers coming from the fans. My watch alarm rings, informing me that my fourteen hours will soon come to an end. Feeling slightly cheered, I continued unclogging the stuffed toilet bowl; when suddenly an urgent bang on the door distracted me. I ignored it but eventually the banging became more violent.

 

‘The washroom is under maintenance.’ I yelled. ‘Come back later.’

 

The fellow’s brain must have been badly affected by his heavy bladder. I got up and opened the door.

 

‘Oh, you, anything?’ I said, disbelief of my misfortune of having to face Mr. Freak for the third time today.

‘Sorry, I need the toilet urgently,’ he said, his eyes aiming at the toilet bowl.

‘No,’ I said, standing in his way, ‘you can either wait till I’m done washing, or you may use the Ladies.’

‘You don’t understand, I’m having a major digestion dysfunction here,’ he said frowning, obviously trying to bear with his stomachache.

‘And I’m having a major problem trying to make this person here understand that the Gents is out of bounds!’ With that, I slammed the door on his face, just as how he did to me earlier.

 

Ha! Serve you right. Why don’t you just poop in your pants? I continued my business, scrubbing my darling toilet bowl away until it sparkled and shine.

 

***

 

It was nearly 11 p.m., when I was finally allowed to go home. After I bowed and took my leave, a staff crew smiled and handed me a TVXQ keychain. I smiled back at his kind gesture, though I’m not a fan of theirs, I wouldn’t be earning some money if it weren’t for their concert.

 

I sat at the bus stop, pleased that I could finally enjoy a moment of peace and serenity on my own. Nearby was a couple being mushy to each other; opposite me stood a few fan girls reenacting their glorious idol concert, and some random people around. A bus rode along, and it seems like the bus is extra full today, hence I had no choice but to stand along the middle aisle with other extra passengers.

 

There was this tall guy next to me, whom was also wearing a facemask, heavily framed glassed and a beanie. When we happened to look at each other, I nearly screamed. He’s got the exact same eyes as Mr. Freak. However, he could never be Mr. Freak, that guy thinks he’s such a V.I.P. he’s probably sipping champagne in his private limousine, accompanied by at least three hot chics, heading to some high profile club around town. I shuddered at the thought of bumping into for the forth time in a day.

 

More passengers boarded the bus at consecutive stops and eventually my personal space becomes limited as I had to squeeze along with the other passengers, like a sardine squashed in a tin. The worst thing was that I had to bear with the drunk man’s ordour opposite me and the body contact with strangers.

 

As the bus came to a halt, I felt the inertia pushing me towards the tall Mr. Freak look-a-like. He looked slightly annoyed as he turned his back on me, when suddenly I felt a hand groping my left buttock.

 

I panicked, frantically searching around for someone who can rescue me. The groping becomes worse as seconds passed by, but I dare not shout. It was too embaressing; besides I know that no one would believe me unless I have valid proof. Trying to get myself further away from the ert, I leaned towards Mr. Freak look-a-like.

 

In no time, Mr. Freak look-a-like turned around looking upset, and that was the time I looked at him with pleading eyes, sending out my SOS stare. Mr. Freak look-a-like somehow got my signal and looked at the person behind me; and at me again. It was then I hear a soft ‘hmph’ coming from behind his facemask, and he turned away again, pulling his beanie even lower.

 

 

In life, you do not need to be taught how to tell if that guy is a jerk. You'd just know it.

 

 

 

 

 

-End of Chapter 3-