Kit Castille didn't want to be one of the girls who worshiped Matthew Rondillo in college. She doesn't want to be one of the girls in his little black book now. But she gave her heart to Matthew all those years ago. Driven by revenge, she's on a mis...
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The press invite comes like a notification on Facebook messenger, like a message from someone who doesn't care if you already made plans for that particular day. The press invite arrives with the same aura as the editor behind it – mysterious and demanding. Matt's magazine launch is set on a Friday night, the day before my best friend Tristan travels to the island province of Marinduque for a week-long culinary training.
"Why don't you come with me?" Tristan asked me a few days ago.
"I can't just leave for a whole week, Tristan," I replied. "I have a job, remember?"
"But you've never been on a vacation in what, two years?"
If he had prodded me for a while longer, I would have given in. His training will take place at the picturesque Bellaroca Island Resort with all expenses paid. At least I wouldn't have to pay for anything because I'll be going as a freeloader. Any time would be a good time to get away from Manila, away from its heat and its problems.
My problems, to be exact. And those problems just became more complicated when the press invite for the magazine launch landed on my desk this morning at work. Matthew knows where I live. He could have delivered it personally or, at the very least, call me to say that he'll be sending the invite via courier.
I guess, for him, sending the magazine's invitation at my office is a way to show the motherf*ckers that he is heading a different magazine now, regardless of being fired from the previous one, an account that the company – I – still handle today.
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Image from Michal Jarmoluk
The invite says one seat reserved. Okay, so that leaves out bringing a date to a social event where I probably wouldn't know anyone personally. There will be celebrities, oh yes, and I could probably name a few but I don't know if I would be attending as his date, which makes it all the more complicated. At this point, I can't even bear to call him and ask.
Friday night comes and I call for a car service to take me to 71 Gramercy in Makati. It's one of those trendy bars that got their hype because of the people who go there – Anne Curtis, et al. But in terms of food, less expensive joints located 71 floors down offer the same gastronomic feast. The fact that it's located on the 71st floor of one of Metro Manila's tallest and most expensive residences created the hype that blows up on the face of people who have actually been there.
