"Good morning, Madame Sharrie, Madame Lauren," Whifler greeted Trish and Tristan's mother and grandmother as they both came back from a business trip.
"Good morning," Mrs. Lauren Fuentavilla greeted back, their grandmother.
She had this look that no one could suspect that she'd been over 60 years old. Her eyes were as black, as her thick shoulder-length hair. Her style was literally unmatched for her age. She looked too young for her age to be exact.
"Good morning Whifler. How was Tristan's preparation?" Mrs. Sharrie Fuentavilla asked as she sat on a single couch in the lobby. Mrs. Lauren also sat across her.
"I hope this whole week was enough," she added.
"He's doing great, and yes, it was quite enough for us, Ma'am. He's ready," Whifler answered confidently.
"That's good then. Where is he?"
"Tanya is fixing him right now." Whifler paused when he saw Tanya come out from Tristan's room,
"Oh, I guess they're done."
They all looked at Tristan's room on the second floor as its door opened widely. He came out of the room like a lovely and magnificent young lady.
Tristan walked down with a perfect poise on the right side of the mansion's bifurcated stairs. He was as if naturally born as a girl.
He was wearing an elegant strapless silver fitted dress paired with four inches of off-white high-block heels with a silver ankle strap.
He was also wearing an extravagant set of diamond jewelry and a shining, pure white wallet bag with a clear crystal design at the center that complements his overall look.
His hair was stylishly curled and clipped on one side.
He stopped in front of them and fiercely looked at them.
"Fabulous! I know you already looked like her, but I couldn't imagine you could be this better. You look so gorgeous. If you are both standing there right now, I can't definitely tell which is which. Good job, Tristan," Mrs. Lauren Fuentavilla said in amusement.
"Impressive. You exceeded my expectation, son," Mrs. Sharrie complimented. Tristan was really pleased with the positive comments his family gave him.
"You also did a great job, Whifler," Mrs. Sharrie Fuentavilla said.
"Thank you, ma'am." Whifler smiled.
They all looked at the guard when it came with a girl. She was just Whifler's age.
She wore a formal and elegant avocado green-colored long-sleeved dress paired with baby-yellow five inches, peep-toe stiletto heels, and a chain bag of the same color.
Her chocolate-brown hair was tied at the right side of her face and was braided up to the tip.
"She's looking for Mr. Whifler," The guard said.
"Good morning," the girl greeted, then she bowed and smiled.
"Oh, yes!" Whifler said then came closer to her.
"Uhm. She is my friend, Annie Clarisse Morris. She will be Tristan's mentor in modeling, endorsing, and other necessary stuff."
"Is she reliable? This is a private affair of the family." Mrs. Lauren Fuentavilla said to Whifler apprehensively yet fiercely.
"Excuse me, Madame." Annie politely interrupted and smiled.
"I understand your concern, but I assure you of my professionalism. I can handle confidential matters."
"Well. That's great then. I hope you're not just words," Mrs. Lauren said.
"She is reliable Ma'am. I've known her for a long time," Whifler defended.
"Alright, I'll trust you for now," Mrs. Lauren said, with a doubt seen on her face.
"If you let us excuse," Whifler said and bowed, waiting for their permission.
"Go on. Don't waste time." Sharrie permitted.
Tristan followed Annie and Whifler.
They went to one of the mansion's rooms which was more likely a studio.
"How long would I walk with these on?" Tristan irritatedly asked. "My ankles were crying now."
"Until you broke one," Whifler sarcastically answered.
"Hah?!" Tristan recoiled. "Are you kidding me?"
"Do I sound like joking?"
"You're really doing this on purpose, huh?!"
"Ohh. Am I too obvious?"
"You—!"
Annie just chuckled at their arguments.
"You two seem to get along very well."
"Absolutely not!"
"You're blind."
They said in chorus with those unpleasant looks on their faces.
"Ohh. I see." She mumbled. "Okay! Let's start!"
Annie made Tristan study different poses and angles, then tried it all himself.
Whifler was holding the camera and acted as a photographer. They were as if in a photoshoot.
"Great. The camera loves you," Annie said.
"You're a good and fast learner," she added after doing all their activities.
"Thank You," Tristan wearily responded. "Are we done?"
"Not yet."
"Still not?! But, I did all the poses already? My photos were also good and we've been doing it for hours. What else is missing?"
"Here." Annie gave a piece of crumpled paper to Tristan.
Tristan's forehead knitted when he got the paper. "What's this for?"
"Do some endorsement. Persuade me to buy that thing."
"Eh?" Tristan confusedly looked at the paper.
"Who the hell will be persuaded to buy this trash?!"
"That's what I needed you to do. Make that trash valuable to my eyes." Annie sat on the chair that was given to them earlier.
"Go on."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Annie smirked and gave Tristan a challenging look. "Why? You can't do it?"
"No! I can do it. I'm just thinking!" Tristan said in a panic.
Then,
"Hey! Everyone! This crumpled paper is usable! It can shine on everyone's life! So,11q what are you waiting for? Buy it now!" Tristan confidently said while emphasizing the paper in his hand with a wide smile plastered on his face.
Annie was stupefied and her jaw hanged a bit. Whifler also turned his gaze away in awkwardness and embarrassment at what Tristan did.
"What crap are you giving me?" Annie asked scornfully.
"This is hard!" Tristan complained.
Annie stood up and slowly walked back and forth in front of Tristan while her arms were crossed.
"Endorsing is not just about the influence you had. Of course, those people who admired and been loyal to you will support and be persuaded. But, what about those who don't?"
Annie held Tristan's arms.
"Charm and convincing aura is the key. It's not just the words that can be persuasive. It's also the way you connect yourself to the audience. You could make the garbage valuable, the ugly beautiful, the trash usable. Your fans or not will be convinced."
Annie went back to her chair and looked straight at Tristan, who was now seriously staring at the paper.
"Your gaze, your gestures, emotions, voice, words, and expressions. Make your whole existence convincing. Try it again." Annie said. Tristan took a deep breath, then he started.
.
.
.
"He's improving." Whifler was startled at Tanya.
"Yeah," Whifler responded while looking at Tristan, earnestly doing his best. He was really trying hard to meet Annie's expectations.
"Anyway, Ms. Trish wanted to see you and Tristan after." Whifler was puzzled at what Tanya said.
'What is it about now?' he thought.
.
.
The Next Morning...
"I apologize. I didn't show up here yesterday. I slept as soon as we finished," Tristan coldly explained to Trish.
It was exactly 8:36 in the morning. Trish was sitting on her bed, while Whifler was sitting on the chair beside her. Tristan was just carefreely sitting on the sofa in the corner while playing with his hair.
"It's fine. I understand you were tired. Uhm, So... How's your training?" Trish nervously asked Tristan while her eyes were looking at her fidgeting thumbs.
"Good. Is that what I came here for?"
"Ah n-no. Uh, You know Summer Ricks, right?"
"If you're talking about that famous actress, yes. Why?"
"She's actually my only closest friend. And she just came back from a shoot across the country," Trish answered, still fidgeting her thumbs.
"So?" Tristan asked. "What about her?"
"Usually, Trish and I will pick her up at the airport every time she came back from travel. Then they'll spend their whole day together. Trish free her schedule for her arrival," Whifler explained, interrupting their conversation as he noticed Trish's anxiousness.
"So, you're saying I'll pick her up?"
"Yes. And this will be counted as your first test," Whifler said, which puzzled Tristan even more.
"You see, we've known each other for a long time. And aside from Whifler and Tanya, Summer's the only person who knew everything about me that others didn't. So, if you can fool her, you can fool everyone. If she'll be convinced you are me, nobody will suspect you," Trish said seriously.
"When will I pick her up then?"
"Around 9:00 am," Whifler answered, which caused Tristan's eyes to widen.
"WHAT?! Why you didn't tell me sooner!" He lashed, then checked the time. "It's already 8:42!!"
"Why blame me? Trish called you out yesterday, didn't she? And I woke you up earlier, but your lazy ass didn't listen. So, who should be blamed here?" Whifler coarsely said.
"Aist!!" Tristan frustratedly mumbled, then went out of the room and headed to his room.
"You handle him well," Trish said to Whifler
"Mhmm. I'm starting to get used to him." Whifler smiled.