Billionaire Beauty Chapter 1

 "21, 34, 16, 45, 02, 10." Fame enunciates the numbers twice as she peeks at the board before her.

She only got two of the six lucky numbers from the lottery outlet she religiously bet with. She is well-informed it is not logical to set her fortune through numbers, but she is just testing the water. The stakes are high, so there is no sensible reason to give up. For the umpteenth time, the lady releases a tired huff.

"Just a bad day, not a bad life. Better luck next time, Famella," she mumbles to herself.

"That's right! Give your shoulder a pat, girl," Karen jeers and adds, "you have an incredible way of consoling yourself."

Fame shifts her gaze at the rotund woman before biting her inner cheek. She tries her best to feign irritation by keeping her mouth shut, not wanting to say anything that will cause trouble. Truth is, she has been a regular client for a year, yet the latter doesn't have a modicum for an amiable treatment towards her. She is, nonetheless, jaded by the woman's salty attitude. Karen should consider herself lucky that she doesn't promote violence.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to go now?" the wench questions her sternly and adds, "you're blocking the line, missy."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I zoned out," Fame apologizes sincerely.

She automatically steps aside and gives way to the other patrons. The rain is in full blast, however, these chronic bettors don't mind. The smell of money is incredibly titillating, yes.

"You know what? I had enough of your bogus angelic voice. You are so fake, Fame!" Karen hisses again. Her eyes rolled heavenwards.

"Hey, Karen, don't you think that's too much?" she sheepishly berates, eyes gleaming with defiant tears now. "Just so you know this is my natural voice. I'm not even faking it."

Is it my fault that I speak this way? Why am I being castigated for having a mellow and gentle voice?

Glaring at her, Karen flips her hair at the back of her shoulders and mutters, "Whatever! You're an eyesore. Get the fuck out of my sight!"

"Stop pestering the kid and do your job. Transact my details instead." A man in his middle forties barges in.

"You're always grumpy, that's why Banjo broke up with you. My buddy deserves better than a hubristic swine," Fred, the balut vendor jeers.

"Gago! Sabihin mo d'yan sa tropa mo ang liit ng kargada niya. Hindi naman siya daks!" Karen shrieks at the top of her lungs. Tell your buddy he got a flaccid, tiny dick. Fucker!

"Makalait ka naman sa tropa ko wagas! Feeling masarap 'to!" Fred and the rest in line snickers together. The nerve of this bitch to mock my friend when in fact she's not even a good shag.

Fame presses her lips together as she listens to them. Her ears are burning because of the profanities. It's not her intention to eavesdrop but what else can she do? Then, Fred hoists the basket, stands up, and shoves a piece of balut to the growling cashier.

"Kalma lang, kain mo na lang 'yan ng balut!" he teases the latter in an animated voice, grinning. Keep calm and suck balut!

The vendor dashes to his route so he could make a living again while the crowd laughs boisterously which Karen finds offensive. Serves the bitch right! Fame, who is patiently waiting for a perfect moment, hops back to the cashier.

"Why the fuck you're still here?!" Karen is still in the maudlin act.

"My change. . .you didn't. . . I mean I forgot it yesterday." It's a lie. The annoying woman deliberately swindled her. Such a scammer!

"Ah, d'you mean your one hundred peso bill?" She dares to ask without even blinking her huge, creepy eyes. "I thought it was a tip. Why are you such a frugal rat?"

"So, what if I'm frugal?" Fame quickly responds with gritted teeth. "I need that money as much as you do."

Na-uh, just because she's a wallflower doesn't mean she has no right to lash out. She is adamant to get it back because it is hers in the first place. Just like anyone else, she desperately needs the moolah! So then, it doesn't take long before Karen tosses the peso bill into the sphere opening. Fame tersely grabs it off from the fatty.

"Satisfied now, pathetic shrew?" Karen shoots her a sardonic smirk. "I suggest you leave now before I smack your face with my bare hands."

She has never been humiliated like this in her entire life, not even by her parents. Fame's eyes turn into angry slits; her hands clenched into balls. However, she realizes it is better not to argue and leave it that way. Then she runs across the road with her hands above her head before squeezing through the bustling lane of kiosks which ends at the jeepney terminal. Miranda meets her at the doorstep once she reaches home.

"I told you to bring the umbrella. Look at you, you're soaking wet from the rain!" Her mother scolds, giving her a stony look.

"I'm sorry, Ma. I thought I had the umbrella with me earlier."

Miranda looks at her daughter with concern and hands her a mug of hot chocolate. She immediately chugs against the handle before bringing it to her lips.

"I don't know what is happening to you. Lately, you've been getting forgetful. Have you been stressed with your studies again?"

Fame frantically shakes her head before sliding her gaze to her lap. She is lying on every layer of her skin. Legit. Her parents have no idea that she's faking it all along because it has been a month since she dropped out of school. Like today, she spent wee hours in the city library, and her last stop was the lotto booth to justify her alibi. Guilty as she is, however, she has to keep it personal. All to herself for the time being.

"Are you sure you're alright, sweetheart?" Her Mama asks again, studying her face.

"Yes, Ma. There's nothing you have to worry about." She politely nods, shutting her mouth all at once. But the freakin' inner voice castigates her. More lies ahead, Famella!

"It's unintended, bitch," she quietly hisses to herself.

"Anyway, Iris came by this afternoon," Miranda informed, now in a motherly tone.

"Why? Did something happen in her shop?"

Her Mama chortles and shakes her head.

"Silly. It's just another casual visit with a box of croissants. You know how much she loves to show off her home-baked pastries. Such a sweet lady, 'eh."

Iris combines her skills as a baker and a florist. Even before the pandemic struck, the Lazaros was managing a variety of furniture businesses in addition to their online sales of various goods. They are wealthy, leading nice lives, and not concerned about whether they will have food on the table the following day, in contrast to them.

After a while, Fame clears her throat and asks, "Did she raise extra concerns other than that?"

Miranda becomes pensive for a while, whereas Fame silently prays to all the saints, hoping that Iris does not denote any hint about her failed college life. Shortly after, Famella reaches for the mug beside the rattan fruit basket and holds onto it as if her life depends on it. Her mother suddenly snaps her fingers, making her almost jump against her seat.

"Yes, I remember just now. Iris told me that you have to drop by her shop tomorrow."

Fame sighs in relief. Then a knock on the door splits them from the conversation. Solomon and Fayerii barge in with bags of groceries. The two just got to the nearby supermarket to buy food and essentials for their weekly consumables.

"I hate rainy days," Fayerii grunts out, hastily dropping the umbrella on the threshold.

"Hey, what took you so long?" Miranda turns to Solomon before collecting the green bags from him.

"There's a little commotion in the store," answers Solomon as he removes his wet shirt. "Honey, may I ask for a cup of coffee?"

"Of course, hon." Miranda chuckled before dashing into their bedroom. Shortly after, she re-enters and hands him a clean set of clothes. "Here, change into these."

"Thanks, hon." Solomon kisses his wife on the forehead.

"Commotion?" Fame butts in. "What happened, Pa?"

She deliberately diverts the issue; she would not want to drag anything about her until dinner. She can not bear to hear her mother's rapping session anymore.

"A freak stole a carton of milk for her toddler," says Fayeri, slumping like a cat against the couch.

"You don't say that to someone you don't know, okay?" Fame abruptly scolds her sister.

Fayeri rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I see you're defending a thief. How disgusting!"

"A person is innocent until proven guilty," Fame argues, sniggering.

"That's enough," Miranda chides them both. "I know you are hungry, so let's have dinner now."

They all settle at the dining table and enjoy the sumptuous meal.

____________

"Good morning, Fame," Iris greets her cousin once she enters the flower shop. "I'm glad you're finally here."

"Morning, Rhys." She nods before sitting in the customer's lounge. "Mama told me to go here, so yeah," she shrugs nonchalantly.

Rhys is her pet name for the latter. Iris is the only relative she can rely on with all of her shortcomings and struggles in life. She is her best friend, confidante, and partner in crime despite their families' long-time dispute. Fame heaves a deep sigh as she mindlessly watches Iris doing ikebana. The item is for a particular client that will be delivered later this afternoon. Meanwhile, Iris scrunches her forehead as she notices her cousin is in a sullen mood. She wonders if Fame is not feeling well, and the very fact makes her anxious. She is almost done with the second basket and just puts a card on it, so she sets them aside and sprints toward her brooding fella.

"What's with your long face? Are you sick?" Iris questions, palpably bothered.

Fame swiftly gazes at her, saying, "I'm not, just tired."

"Yeah. You're always like that and all, you poor thing."

"You're right, I'm sick of being poor," Fame snaps. The corner of her lips tugs downward.

Iris gently pats her cousin's back. Fame, on the other hand, can't help but sigh for the nth time. She cups her chin in her palm and switches her sight to the glass panel walls. Famella's day hasn't even started, yet she's already too lazy to keep going. Why not? She barely slept last night and kept tossing in her bed until sunrise.

"I'm sorry you have to be this gloomy, but hey, I've got good news for you, girlie!"

"Unless it's not about money then don't push it." She warns and rolls her eyes heavenwards.

Her cousin can't help but laugh at her hilarious wit. "C'mon don't be a negatron. Smile, girlie."

Fame then averts her attention to her and forces herself to smile. Sure she looks like a dehydrated walker now.

"That's my girl!"

"Whatever, Iris Ysabel Mirnoff. Thanks for making fun of me."

"Hey, I'm not even—"

Fame snots with a sly grin. "I know I look like a zombie, but you don't have to stress the obvious."

"Okay, enough of the banters because the good news is here now," Iris says before trudging back to the counter. She gets an envelope and hands it to her.

"What's this?" Famella asks, perplexed.

"Do the honors and unwrap your present, dear."

"Fine." She pulls the seal and scans the details before screaming in surprise. "OMG! Is this for real?!"

"Yes! You got the job, girlie, so we need to do an overhaul and makeover."

"Thank you so much, Rhys!," Fame says effusively and stands up from her seat. "You really are an angel." She hugs Iris and sobs quietly. She can never be grateful enough to this wonderful woman.

"Don't mention it. Come on, Mij is waiting for us in the hotel."

"Alright. Let's do this!"