Chapter 5

Like the past few weeks, sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford. I've slept for maybe three hours, and that was it. Things kept piling. Mom's death, moving houses, living under a celebrity's roof, Uno's weirdness, and lately, the hidden door in her bedroom. It was enough to make me sit on my bed in the wee hours of the morning, a nagging headache on my temple.

After staring at the darkness outside for minutes, I took it upon myself to act like a normal teenager. No movies, no games, and no online interactions. No wonder I was driving myself crazy. I dragged my backpack near the bed and took my laptop out. There was wifi in the house, thank goodness. I went to the familiar websites I used to visit before. What dresses were featured today? Maybe seeing it would perk my spirit.

My love for designing clothes went as far back as I could remember. Maybe I liked it after I saw the gowns that actresses wore on the red carpet. Or maybe I developed an interest because mom used to dress me like a doll. I had no idea. I just aspired to be a fashion designer one day. Carter, being a good friend, declared that he'd take the same course for college. Secretly, I knew it was to help his parent's business.

I myself didn't dress like I was going to the runway. My role was to make the dress, not wear it. I clicked on images in different websites, hoping to find a surge of inspiration. Too colorful, I thought as I exit an image. Too plain, I decided on another. Sigh. I couldn't concentrate. Nothing interested me.

I stared at the screen again and frowned. When did I type this? The name Uno was written on the search bar, pulling more than a million information automatically. A particular website caught my eye. www.TheOne.com. Home to hundreds of information's, pictures, and tidbits about Uno, the number one star in our hearts, was the caption underneath. I clicked that website out of curiosity. What could they possibly say about her?

The website was organized into different categories- photo's, general facts, quotes from Uno herself, and a fan forum. Whoever made or joined this site must have really admired her. All hundred millions of them. She really was popular. Incredible! Would they still like her if they knew that she was a bit. . . strange? I could tell that they would.

I chose the pictures category first. There was a photo of Uno in every side possible- left, right, eating, talking, walking, checking her phone. In almost all pictures you could see that her expression was the same, serious. Except when she was acting that is. That was when her eyes sparkled in the picture. She was more alive. Kind of like the Uno who took me to the restaurant.

I touched her lips on the screen. So beautiful and soft. I slammed my laptop shut. My thoughts were straying in that direction again. Not good. Not good at all. I pushed myself off the bed and stretched my arms. Breathe in. Breathe out. That's it Riri. No need to panic. Girl crushes were normal. You just didn't have one before. I might have been mature for my age, but I was a late bloomer in other aspects.

A soft knock sounded on my door. I glanced out the window. It was still dark. "Hey," Uno said when I peeked. "Are you awake?"

I opened the door wider. "No, I'm actually sleepwalking."

She brushed off my snappy remark with a shrug. "I guess I was mean to you yesterday."

"You guess? You practically bit my head off when I told you about the cuts on your arm."

"Yeah about that." She scratched her head. "I'd like to make it up to you."

"How?" I asked dubiously. If this was some sort of trick to impose her tyranny on me again, I'd like to know early so I wouldn't be affected by it. Her moods changed in a snap of a finger. It was criminal.

"I'd like to ask you to hang out with me. If you'd like to of course." She sounded uncertain.

"What's the catch?"

"Nothing. I'd really like to express forgiveness for my—" She struggled for the words. "Strangeness." Aha! So she admit that she was weird. At least we were on the same boat. "I'd like us to work out," she said sincerely. Work out? Work out how? My face flushed. "Manager was important to me, Riri. I don't want to disappoint her."

I shifted my weight and considered. Mom would want us to get along no matter what. I hated to admit it, but if I wanted to please her, being good to Uno was the number one priority, even if her talent was a jerk. "Sure," I heard myself saying, albeit reluctantly.

She turned to the hallway. "Let's go."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean now?"

"Seize the day and all that right?"

Uno was waiting by her Hummer when I came out. "I'm not even going to ask where you hid the van," I said. She had a puzzled look about her when she opened the door for me. "You're in a pretty good mood today." I buckled my seatbelt.

"I guess you can say that," she said, jogging to her side of the vehicle.

"Where are we going?"

"To my favorite place.”

Uno didn't open the radio while driving. Carter and I always did. He said you could tell a lot about a person from the songs he listened to. Carter liked pop songs, mainly because of the influence of his sisters. Mom loved The Carpenters. I knew all their songs by heart because that was all she'd listen to when she'd drive me somewhere. As for me, I preferred movie soundtracks more than anything. It made for a good background song when I wanted to make a design on my sketchpad.

"What songs do you like?" I asked Uno.

"My taste is diverse. It changes with my mood, so I can't give you a title."

I snorted. "Bet you can't finish a single song then." I glanced at her. "You're too moody."

Uno tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "You can say that. But enough about me." She smiled quickly. "What about you? What are your interests?"

"Movies, books, art, those kinds of things." I squinted as another car came into view. Its light blinded me momentarily. The road was fairly unoccupied save for a few vehicles since it was still early. "I like designing clothes too. In fact, I'm taking that course in college. Fashion design."

"Nice," she said appreciatively. "You want to put up

your own business?"

"I haven't thought about that yet. I'm still concentrating on developing my skills." I smiled to myself. See? We were having a decent conversation. She wasn't that bad. "You said you took your masters degree at my age right?" I inquired. "What was it again?" She exhaled slowly. I could see her knuckles turning whiter. "Hey, you don't have to answer it if you're that uncomfortable. Sorry."

"No, it's okay." She hesitated before saying, "It was in Psychology. I want to prepare for my PhD."

"Woah! That's heavy stuff. Why that course though?"

She touched her chin, thinking about her reply. "I'm very interested with how the mind works. That's as much as I can tell you. It's not without its fair share of sacrifices though. I have to balance learning and acting. When your mind is thinking quickly, but your schedule won't allow much room, it can be quite a pain."

"You must be a genius then, being able to do everything with your schedule." Psychology huh? "So which is more important?" I asked.

"I'm not exactly the genius in this setup." Her brows furrowed. "When your whole life depends on it, you do things rather well. Anyway, I'll answer your question when we arrive at my favorite place." Her tone suggested that she wanted the conversation to end.

Uno and I kept silent for the rest of the ride. I stared off into the distance on the way. It was relaxing to sit on the passenger side, with nothing but the background sound of the engine to keep us company. It was better than thinking about my loss or how my life has suddenly changed. I recognized where we were headed to when I saw the signs on the road. Griffith park? This was her favorite place?

"I'm surprised that they let us in." I checked my watch. "It's 4:30." We just parked the truck near the observatory and were standing idly beside it. "Did you pay them?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Now why would you suggest that I do that? By the way, we went here because I want to show you something." She pointed to the distance. "You see that?" I followed the direction of her finger.

"I'd be blind to ignore the Hollywood sign from here."

Uno hoisted herself on the hood of the truck. She offered a hand to me. "Come here Riri." The view was way better on top of the Hummer. Uno smiled wistfully while looking at the sign. It was just like the smile I've seen in the photos. There was something childlike and pure about it. "I've always wanted to be an actress," she admitted.

"Congratulations then. Dream come true."

Her smile faltered. "But it's not enough." She glanced heedfully at me. "What is your goal as a fashion designer, aside from improving your craft?"

I thought about it. "Well, I think it's every designer's goal to see her work loved by everyone. You know, worn by the famous. Featured in magazines. Seen in the streets and used by Jane Doe. Don't get me wrong. It's not about the fame. It's a nice thought though, for people to appreciate what you created from nothing."

She nodded in agreement. "Would you say that you want to be number one in your field then?"

I shrugged. "If you don't dream that big, then you'll come out as mediocre."

"You nailed my feelings." Her hands balled into fists. Out of passion or brought by anger, I couldn't tell. "Your mother and I had big goals when my career started too. I wanted to be one, but I wasn't able to keep our promise. I don't deserve the name Uno at all," she said in a hard voice. "I've failed your mother. I'm sorry."

Was this the reason why she was always hot and cold? Because she was guilty of something that wasn't her fault? "Don't be too hard on yourself," I consoled. "Mom always said that the industry is harsh. Competition is tough. If you really want to succeed at this, you need to get a good manager. Someone who can help you. Someone with a good professional background. Someone who isn't me."

She hugged her knees. "But I don't want another manager. I'd be exposed."

I frowned. "What are you so afraid of, Uno?" Why were you keeping a secret door behind a painting, I wanted to follow-up. The question was too intrusive. In the situation I was in, it wasn't my place to ask.

"No one will understand me," she said. "Not you or a stranger. And please don't call me Uno. I'm Blaze." She chewed her bottom lip. "But I'd rather it be you who's beside me. You're the closest thing I have to Mrs. Chance, and she's the only one I trust. Please agree to be my manager."

"How? I'm young and inexperienced," I reasoned. "I'll destroy your career." This statement was not made from fear of losing or failing, but because it was the truth. Mom's work would be for nothing if I became Uno's manager. Suggesting it was foolhardy. Agreeing on it was worse.

She took my hands, pleading with me using her expressive eyes. "It will be informal," she said. "No one will need to know that you're working for me. We'll go by this together."

"You're asking a lot from me." I could feel my resolve wavering the longer she stared.

"Please. . . Don't you want to make your mom proud? Because I sure as hell want to. This was her dream too."

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. What would mom want for me? For us? Maybe this was the reason why she brought me and Uno together. So we could help each other. I didn't know what to think anymore. The rational part of my brain was refusing to cooperate. "I'll try my best," I said resignedly. "Don't expect immediate results though. I'm not my mother."

She slammed her fist on the truck happily. "I knew you wouldn't say no!"

"Do I have a choice?"

Later that day after eating breakfast and having one too many ice cream, we went back to her house. I had many questions for Uno, or Blaze, or whatever she wanted me to call her. I pushed it all at the back of my mind for future discussions. The thought of being her manager occupied my thoughts most. I'd like to take things one step at a time for now.

Going to my room, I sank on the soft bed and placed a bag on my lap. It contained not only my things, but the ones I got from mom's office as well. I made Carter open her cabinet and safe using his lock picking skills, hoping to bring something memorable before everything was given to charity.

I took a notebook from the bag. I've seen Mom scribble on it countless times. Maybe something she wrote previously could help me and Uno. I opened the notebook carefully. Fondness and pain combined in my chest while I stared at mom's beautiful script handwriting. How I missed her and her advice. I really needed it.

Everything in the notebook was work related. Who would meet who. Project ideas. Meetings. Boring stuff that I realized I'd be doing in the future for Uno. One particular page made me stop. There was a picture of Uno pasted there. She was smiling on the photo, and was around the age of eleven to thirteen, the time that she started being a celebrity.

The picture was almost unattached from the paper anyway, so I figured I might as well peel it from the page. I did so with utmost care so it wouldn't rip apart. I got it in one piece. There could be a message on the back. There always was. I flipped it. This was no exception. The writing was pointed and stitched together, almost as if the person didn't want the words to be read. Could be Uno's. I read it aloud and frowned. The message said, Help Me. It's trying to escape again.