Death Threat (noun)
A threat to kill someone. (Collins English Dictionary)
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INT. CONDO TO CAR, DAY
Alex T.
I received a death threat today. And I have been smiling like an idiot since I got that email from an anonymous sender who's extra triggered with the column that I wrote on PH Today this morning. A few minutes after it broke the internet, media companies followed suit and my phone just kept buzzing.
I'm going after you, Alex Tapang!!!! I'll kill you!!
Death threats felt more like a validation than a warning. What an honor to have that gun hovering in my head. Oh, please, do the honor. As I walked outside my condominium onto the parking lot, I could hear CNN, ANC, GMA News, and other TV outlets lifting the reports from my Investigative Journalism case about the business fraud that happened in a multinational company, a retail giant owned by Chinese business tycoon Robert Go. In an investigative report posted on PH Today by Alex Tapang….
Woah! Music to my ear. I panned my rearview mirror on my face. Nothing but a double application of my favorite lip-dip girl crush shade from Sunnies Face could ever match this perfect mood. I finger-brushed my side bangs and smiled at the mirror: This is how you trend, peeps. I winked.
My morning stopover wouldn't complete without heading to Starbucks to grab my favorite hot chocolate. Nope. Not coffee. I hate coffee.
"Hi, Alex. So here's your hot choco. Mmmm… Boring!" said my favorite barista Tom.
"That's okay! My life's already intense! I'm sticking to my boring drink." I winked.
I turned on the radio to fish more credits. Eeeepp! Hearing my name from the mouths of these rotten tomatoes -- I mean --- senior reporters is my kind of jam! Oh. What a day! And look ---- Tom wrote a customized pen note on my coffee cup: Congrats, kiddo! Boring, huh??!
And just when I was about to U-turn on the way to the office to gloat, I received a call from my boss Pinky Garcia.
"So are you calling to congratulate your favorite writer?" I teased.
"I'm sure my congratulatory message can wait, but that's not the reason why I called."
Lies. Stop being a stone-cold momma, Pinky. Just say it. Obviously, she just didn't want this to get in my head. Hello, I bagged a lot of awards for my investigative write-ups for PH Today lately. Most of my articles were even tagged with 'First seen on PH Today' credit.
"Sinta called in sick today. She needs your help."
"She needs my help. You sure about that?" I pried. Oh-oh. Mood-breaker. Beep-beep!
"Not for Sinta. For the company," she stressed.
"I know how much you hate each other.
And I know how prepared you are to gloat over her head, but she's not here."
"What now?!"
"I need you to go to this press conference."
"Press conference of who?"
"Sheen Medical Group."
"So this is a showbiz event?!" I sided my car as I predicted this awful situation.
"Yes. It's. But it's paid. Sheen is our client."
I don't care if it's paid or not. I am allergic to showbiz events and Pinky knows that.
"Alex, hello???"
Of course, I declined.
"Do you really want to embarrass our sales team??" She hardened her voice.
Do you really want to embarrass me? I replied in my head. Attending entertainment events was personal to me.
"Can you just give this to me?? Then…. We can celebrate your glory later. I promise. Gina will send you the invite so you can Waze to the venue."
Ugh. Do I have a choice?
INT. CAR, DAY
Alex E.
The ray of sunlight welcomed Alex Esteban who just returned from the US after finishing law school and a course from the FBI Academy. His credentials in Manila State University (MSU) nailed him a scholarship to study abroad. Call him the dashing dude that all ladies were crushing real-hard. Deep Hazel eyes. Broad shoulders. Fit physique. You can liken his jaw and his teeth with that of Taylor Lautner. But his nose is perfect. It's not a surprise that he's attractive if you're the son of a then-famous showbiz love team in the '80s: Dave and Diane Esteban.
Alex, who's seated at the back seat of his car, was just staring at the people approaching the venue. He saw groups of media crew holding cameras, microphones, or reporters alighting from their press vans.
"Sir… what are we doing here?" Mang Boy, Alex's driver, wondered.
They've been stalling for more than 20 minutes across the main hall, on the sideway. But Alex never moved from his seat. His eyes longingly gaze at the vertical glass windows that walled the venue.
He slid the screen of his phone to open and the first window on his internet browser was Hana Tamayo's Instagram account. Hana Tamayo. His first stop. His first love.
"Let's go."
"We're leaving? You're not going in?"
"No."
"Where do we go?" Mang Boy tilted his body at the back seat.
"To the cemetery."
"Okay," Mang Boy answered. He turned on the car engine. BEEEEEEPPP!
INT. CAR TO VENUE PRESSCON, DAY
Alex T.
BEEEEEPPPPP!!
Ahhhh! Are you kidding me???!!! If it weren't for that Associate Editor promotion dangling in my eyes, I wouldn't have done this. Oh, Sinta, I can't wait to walk all over your face.
~
SMG's PR squad welcomed me with a warm smile and ushered me to the registration area. Oh. I remember. Brand event. The setup is far different from government press briefing which is often intense and straight-forward. For a celebrity press con, it's a bit casual, laid-back, and all-fashion. Boxes of themed giveaways were piled at the registration area which the press would receive after the event. Ah yeah. Freebies. Sinta loves freebies.
Unexcited and uncomfortable. I sighed heavily as I entered the press hall. I looked around and the vibe wasn't inviting at all. Not my turf. I slid in, bowed my head while embracing my Mac laptop. I didn't want to be identified. I want to be invisible.
"ALEX!!!"
The perky girl from Cosmo called me and I almost dropped my laptop; her voice was too loud that it got everyone's attention. Invisible no more. It's Shanty; someone I knew from my on the job training years back. She motioned for me to join her table.
Later. I mouthed and faked a smile. This is what I hate about showbiz press-con. It's taking forever to start. Catering on the side. Reporters roaming from table to table sharing non-sense showbiz gossips --- celebrity love triangles, blind items, scandals, and the likes. Eeww.
My day was starting to drop in a hot meltdown all thanks to Sinta. First time after a very long time that I felt weirded out by the ambiance of people alone. Credit to this old grumpy guy beside me who kept checking me from head to toe. Being in the industry for a while made me think that everyone I saw was familiar. He glanced at my press ID. I flipped in immediate reaction. Fishy.
This is the reason why I choose to carry my mom's surname: Tapang; besides, that surname suited me perfectly. Way better than the surname of my ever-famous, biological father. Well. Speaking of the dad-vil.
EXT. CEMETERY, DAY
Alex E.
Alex's foot brushed off all the dried leaves covering the tombstone of his late father Dave. Behind Alex's successful credential is his family's tragic history. The death of his father was 1989's biggest news. Dave was killed inside his rest house in Tagaytay. And this motivated him to study law and criminology. He came back to the Philippines, not as a lawyer but an NBI agent. A high-class detective. Thanks to his Ninong Khalil, his skills, and impressive background, he was endorsed to get a high-ranking job, right away. He needed to pull a lot of strings just to do one thing: Give justice to his father's death.
When Alex's father died, he vividly remembered how Dave's fans flocked their way to the grave to commemorate his death year after year.
From bouquets of flowers and candles to a single white rote that Alex was holding now, it's very clear how things have changed. People moved on. But he would never move on. For Alex, this is just the start. The tragic past carved a permanent mark on their souls.
It was quiet. Serene. He exhaled sharply, looked down, and darted his eyes on the date of his father's death.
"Hey, dad! Got you something. I came here to...personally tell you that I got a good lead. I know. I know you don't want me to do this, dad… But I want to. Justice is around the corner, dad."
Months before Alex's arrival in the Philippines, an anonymous lead contacted him saying that he has something that could possibly re-open Dave Esteban's unresolved case. This information might also help her mom Diane Esteban clean her reputation after a misleading report went out to puppet the public against Diane, blaming her for Dave's death.
"I.. I just couldn't accept the level of stupidity of everyone involved in your case, dad! It's payback time."
A notification popped up from Alex's apple watch. It's time to go home. As when he's about to go near his car where Mang Boy was waiting, a lady holding a white rose suddenly approached him.
"So, it's true. You're back!" She smiled. Amused.
INT. CAR TO VENUE PRESSCON, DAY
Alex T.
Confirmed. That grumpy old guy who's been fishing at my press ID whispered. He followed that invisible line from Eric Chen's eyes to mine. I knew it! He smugged.
Eric Chen, president of Chen Artist Agency (CAA), just arrived and his beaming presence automatically got the attention of the press. Most people call him 'Boss Hunk', because of his alluring stature. Yup. That 'Boss Hunk' is my dad. But our daddy-daughter relationship is our best-kept secret. He smiled at everyone but as soon as his eyes landed on mine, his mood shifted.
Funny how I could translate his emotions when we didn't even see each other that often. In this industry where I am, there's always a high chance of crossing each other's path. I avoided it for years, as promised, but look where we were. We're breathing the same polluted air and I felt so pathetic. I could feel the cold sweat on my forehead. Help?
Commotion filled the area as the host prepped up to signal the entrance of Sheen Medical Group's new brand ambassador. Ugh. For the first time, I wanna thank this 'celebrity' for saving me from my 'father's' why-are-you-here cold stare. But, who is this celebrity? For the president of CAA to be here? She must be a high-prized artist.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the new brand ambassador of Sheen Medical Group, Asia's multimedia sweetheart Hana Tamayo!"
Anyone but Hana. I told myself earlier. Gad. This morning I felt like a champion. But now everything went downslope and this low-time gig just reminded me of my life's plot holes. Dang it, Sinta!!
EXT. CEMETERY, DAY
Alex E.
"Sorry Ma'am, you are?"
"I'm Isabella Santiago. Wife of Dave Esteban."
"Wife? Wait! Whattt???!!"
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