Chapa POV:
I woke up at 7:30 a.m. and quickly got ready, making sure to pack my essential painting supplies. I was nervous but excited as I caught the bus to George's villaâmansion, really. When I arrived, Katerina was the one who opened the door.
"Hello, Chapa. Come in, I'll lead you to your workspace," she said with a polite smile.
"Thanks," I replied, following her through the maze of hallways. This place was enormous, and I couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by its grandeur. Eventually, we reached the workspace, a large room filled with natural light pouring in through the tall windows.
"This is your easel," Katerina said, pointing to one near the window. The view outside was stunning, and I could already feel my creativity stirring. "The other painters will be here soon, I assume."
"What are Mr. Davis' wishes for the painting?" I asked, eager to know what he expected from us.
"Here's a list," Katerina said, pointing to a large sheet of paper pinned to the wall. Each type of painting had a name tied to it. "If you like one of these ideas for the painting, you can write your name on it, and it'll be all yours."
I nodded, taking in the different themes listed. There were so many possibilities, but I knew I had to choose carefully.
"If you need more insight on the painting, you can always ask Mr. Davis himself," Katerina added with a smile. "But only if he has time."
"Thank you," I said, and she left me alone in the workspace. The quiet was soon broken by the arrival of another artist.
A girl with braids woven with colorful threads walked in, wearing an emerald green top, baggy jeans, and beautiful gold accessories that perfectly complemented her warm brown skin. "You new?" she asked, giving me a once-over.
"Yeah, I'm Chapa," I said, trying to sound confident.
"Hello, Chapa, I'm Blaise," she said, her tone friendly. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," I replied.
Soon after, three more artists joined us. There were two boys, Aaron and Nate, and another girl named Fatima. Fatima wore a hijab and later in the day, I overheard her speaking in a different language on the phone, probably with someone back home in Morocco. We all exchanged greetings, but once we got to work, the room fell into a comfortable silence, each of us focused on our respective canvases.
After a while, Fatima broke the silence. "So, Chapa... I heard he bought your piece for 60k."
"Yeah, he did. I'm still surprised by that," I admitted, still wrapping my head around the fact.
"Oh, don't be. He's as rich as someone who'd win the lottery about 100 times," Blaise said with a laugh.
"True," Aaron chimed in.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, "So how did you guys end up here?"
Blaise was the first to share her story. "I was a street artist. I painted people, cities, and streets where I painted. Then one day, George came by when I was in Rivalton. He was amazed by my talent and took me in."
"My mom was a professional painter who sold a painting to him once," Nate added. "When he discovered me, he was amazed, and that's my story."
Fatima nodded and said, "I was in an art school, and he came to one of my exhibitionsâjust like you. He bought one of my pieces and asked if I wanted to work for him. It was a small art academy in Swellview."
"I own an art gallery," Aaron said. "He came by once, bought one of my pieces, and also asked me to work for him. I still have my art gallery, but this job pays way better."
"Sounds like we all got pretty lucky," I said, feeling a bit more at ease now that I knew more about my colleagues.
"One question," I ventured, trying to sound casual. "Is George okay with me taking my next day off?"
"If you manage to charm him, yes," Blaise said with a grin.
"What if I don't want to charm him?" I asked, already dreading the idea.
"Then bye-bye to your day off," Nate said, laughing a little too much at my predicament.
I sighed. "Okay, I'll try."
As I went back to my easel, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. This was just the beginning, and I had a feeling that working for George Davis was going to be an adventure in itself.
Bose POV:
Andrew and I stood ready for the Vogue interviewer, both of us trying to project a calm, collected demeanor, even though I could tell Andrew was buzzing with excitement. The interviewer came in and shook our hands, her smile professional but warm. Bridget, my assistant, guided us all to the room where the interview would be held. Along with the interviewer, there was a cameraman and a photographer who would be capturing everything for the interview and later at the photoshoot.
As the interview began, the questions were straightforwardâmostly about the company, our various departments, and what students could achieve by being part of our programs. I took the lead on most of these, but his enthusiasm started shining through as he was about to describe the future of our brand, Celia.
Then, as expected, the interviewer shifted gears and started asking more personal questions. She wanted to know our favorite food, animal, colorâall the usual fluff. It was harmless enough, but I couldn't help feeling a bit awkward.
Then came the inevitable question. "Since you're both very popular among the girls and boys, of course, I must assume you have a lover," she said, a teasing edge to her tone.
I laughed, though it came out a bit more awkward than I intended. "I'd like to keep my love life private, and once I have one and we're both comfortable with sharing our relationship, then you will all know," I answered, hoping that would satisfy her curiosity without giving too much away.
"So... I assume you're single. Would you be interested in dating fans?" she pressed.
"I'm open to any person I can trust, rely on, and someone who loves me for being myself," I said, trying to keep it diplomatic.
"That's beautifully answered. What about you, Andrew? Who's most likely to date someone?" she turned to him.
Andrew grinned, leaning into the moment. "It's the same for me, and I think I'm most likely to date someone sooner than my friend Bose here," he teased.
The interviewer laughed along with him, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "So, we'll wrap it up here. Thanks for your time," she said, signaling the end of the interview as the camera shut down.
"Alright, gentlemen, get dressed for the shoot," she instructed, shifting the focus from words to visuals.
We headed off to change into the outfits Andrew had chosen from our brand, Celia. Andrew went first, stepping in front of the camera in wide dark blue pants paired with a crisp white shirt and a stylish brown jacket. He looked effortlessly cool, as always.
Then it was my turn. I pulled on a light blue woolen cardigan with dark blue accents, a white t-shirt underneath, and baggy cargo jeans. The silver accessories added a bit of edge, and I felt comfortable yet stylish. The photographer snapped away, giving me occasional direction as I tried to relax into the shoot.
Andrew's next outfit was a bold choiceâdenim jeans with a matching denim jacket without sleeves, no shirt underneath, showing off his abs. "This will make everyone go crazy," the interviewer commented, clearly impressed.
When it was my turn again, I put on another pair of cargo baggy jeans, this time in dark grey, paired with a black blazer. Initially, I wore a white shirt underneath, leaving a few buttons undone. But then the photographer asked, "If you feel comfortable, would you take off the shirt? Only if you're comfortable."
I hesitated for a moment but then agreed. "Sure," I said, unbuttoning the shirt and shrugging it off before slipping the blazer back on. My abs were peeking out, and I could already feel a mix of confidence and embarrassment as the camera clicked away. Seeing the photos afterward made me cringe a little, but I had to admit, they looked good.
"Alright, good job. We'll share the ones we'd like to put in the magazine, and we'll post them on our socials," the interviewer said, wrapping things up.
"Great, thanks for having us," I replied, genuinely grateful the session was over.
As they packed up and left, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Today had been intense, but I knew it was all part of the job. And besides, it wasn't every day you got to see yourself in Vogue.
Chapa POV:
After work, I made my way through George's sprawling house, my footsteps echoing in the long hallways. His office was at the far end, tucked away from the rest of the house. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Come in," George's voice called from inside.
I pushed the door open and stepped in. George was sitting behind his desk, his eyes on me as I entered. "How was your first day?" he asked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"It was good, definitely good," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
"Great," he said, nodding as if he expected nothing less.
I hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "But I had a question... Could I maybe take Tuesday off? The academy is organizing a trip to Italy, and I've been selected to go."
George's expression shifted slightly, his smile growing wider. "Really? Well, that's a nice opportunity," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"So, can I take the day off?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, even though something about his gaze made me uneasy.
George stood up and walked around his desk, coming closer to me. "Only if you let me take you out tonight," he said, his tone suggestive.
I felt my heart skip a beat, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Is that a date?" I asked, trying to sound casual, even though I was anything but.
"Definitely, and wear that dress you wore at the exhibition," George said, his eyes locking onto mine.
I took a step back, my mind racing. "I already have a boyfriend, so no, sorry," I said firmly, turning to leave.
As I reached the door, George's voice stopped me. "I admire you, Chapa," he said, his tone softer now. "You're loyal to your loved ones, and that's a good characteristic. But how badly do you want to go on that trip to Italy? I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind if your boss takes you out for dinner, to discuss... business. It's just a dinner between an employee and her boss."
I could feel him getting closer again, his presence making me uneasy. "I'm not interested, sorry," I repeated, my voice steady as I walked out of the room.
"Call me if you change your mind," George shouted after me, but I didn't look back.
As soon as I got home, I tried calling Bose. He didn't pick up, and I spent the next hour trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling George's words had left behind. When Bose finally called me back, I answered immediately.
"Hey Chapa, sorry I was at the fashion show," Bose said, his voice a welcome relief.
"No problem," I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. "It's just, I tried to convince George to let me take Tuesday off, and he said only if I go to dinner with him."
"And are you going?" Bose asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"No, of course I'm not. I'm with you, remember?" I said, trying to reassure him.
"But if that means you can come to Italy with me, can't you call him back and say it's okay?" Bose asked, his tone more serious now.
"Aren't you scared? That he'll take me from you like he did to Andrew and his ex-girlfriend?" I asked, my voice quiet.
"No, I trust you," Bose said firmly. "And I know you won't leave me for him. As much as I hate the idea of you going to dinner with him, if it means you can come on the trip to Italy, then... I can deal with it."
I sighed, knowing he was right, but still hating the idea. "Alright, one drink, and then I'm leaving," I said, making up my mind.
"Good. And how was your first day, by the way?" Bose asked, changing the subject.
"It was good, thanks for asking," I replied, feeling a bit better after talking to him.
After we hung up, I stared at my phone for a moment, then pulled up George's number. My fingers hesitated over the keys before I finally typed out the message. "One drink tonight and I get my day off?"
George's reply came quickly. "Fine. Meet me at Pearls Bar, 7 PM."
"I'll be there," I texted back, my stomach knotting with nerves. This was not how I'd imagined ending my first day, but if it meant I could go to Italy with Bose, I'd endure it. Just one drink. Nothing more.
As the clock neared 7 PM, I made my way to Pearls Bar. The whole day had been a mix of excitement and anxiety, and now that the moment was here, I couldn't shake the unease that had been gnawing at me since George's proposition. I kept reminding myself of Bose's words, that he trusted me, that this was just a small sacrifice to go on the trip to Italy. But still, the idea of spending even a brief amount of time alone with George made my skin crawl.
When I arrived at Pearls, the dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background did little to calm my nerves. I spotted George almost immediatelyâhe was seated at a table near the back, a glass of something dark and strong already in front of him. He looked up as I approached, a sly smile spreading across his face.
"Chapa, right on time," he said, standing up to greet me.
I nodded, forcing a smile as I took the seat across from him. "Yeah, I figured it's best not to keep you waiting."
George chuckled, but I could see the way his eyes lingered on me, making me feel like I was under a microscope. "I like punctuality. It shows respect."
I didn't respond, instead signaling the waiter to bring me something lightâa sparkling water. I wasn't about to let myself lose focus, even for a moment.
"So, how are you finding your time at work?" George asked, his tone casual, but I could sense there was more behind his words.
"It's been interesting," I said carefully. "Everyone's been really welcoming."
George nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Good, good. I like to keep a close-knit team. It's important that everyone feels... connected."
There was a long pause as the waiter brought my drink. I took a sip, trying to ease the dryness in my throat. "So, about Tuesday..." I began, trying to steer the conversation toward the reason I was there.
George leaned back in his chair, watching me intently. "Yes, Tuesday. You really want to go to Italy, don't you?"
"Of course," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "It's a great opportunity, and I don't want to miss out."
"I understand that," George said, his voice smooth. "But you have to understand my position too. I'm a busy man, and I value my time. So when I ask for something, I expect it to be reciprocated."
I could feel the tension in the air growing thicker. "I agreed to meet you tonight," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But let's be clearâit's just one drink."
George's smile widened, but there was something almost predatory in his eyes. "Of course, Chapa. Just one drink. But I hope you're not in too much of a rush. After all, we should get to know each other better if we're going to work together."
I shifted in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I'm here, aren't I?"
George leaned forward, his expression serious now. "You're here, but are you really present? I know you're loyal to your boyfriend, and I respect that. But loyalty can be tested in different ways."
I stared at him, my heart pounding. "What exactly are you trying to say, George?"
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing sinister, I assure you. I just think you're an intriguing person, Chapa. You have potential. And I like to nurture potential. But I also believe in being rewarded for my generosity."
I felt a chill run down my spine. "I'm not sure what kind of reward you're expecting, but I'm here for the work. That's all."
George sighed, as if disappointed. "Fair enough. But remember, opportunities like the one you're asking for don't come for free. I'm giving you the day off, but I expect you to consider my generosity when I ask for something in return."
I nodded, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. "I'll keep that in mind."
George finished his drink and stood up. "Enjoy your trip, Chapa. We'll talk more when you return."
I watched as he walked out of the bar, leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth. The moment he was out of sight, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I knew that whatever George had in mind wasn't going to stop with just one drink, but for now, I had what I needed. I could go to Italy with Bose, and that was what mattered most.
As I left the bar, I pulled out my phone and texted Bose. "I did it. Tuesday is ours."
His reply was immediate. "I knew you could. Can't wait for Italy."
Neither could I, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just stepped into something much more complicated than I'd anticipated.
Andrew POV:
The fashion show was a whirlwind of lights, music, and flowing fabric, but as the models strutted down the runway, my eyes kept finding their way back to Mika. She moved with such effortless grace, her confidence radiating with each step. It wasn't just the way she wore the clothesâit was her presence, the way she seemed to command the attention of everyone in the room without even trying.
As the show came to a close and the final applause echoed through the venue, I made my way backstage, eager to congratulate the team. But it was Mika I sought out first. I found her adjusting her hair, her face still glowing from the excitement of the show.
"You did an amazing job out there," I said, catching her attention.
Mika turned to me, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Thanks, Andrew. It was a lot of fun. Nerve-wracking, but fun."
I chuckled. "You didn't look nervous at all. You killed it."
We stood there for a moment, the energy from the show still buzzing around us. I greeted a few more people, congratulating the other models and designers, but my mind kept drifting back to Mika. There was something about her, something that made it hard to focus on anything else.
After I had made my rounds and greeted all the guests, I noticed that Mika was still lingering near the exit. She looked like she was debating whether to leave or not, her fingers playing with the strap of her bag. Without thinking too much about it, I walked over to her.
"Still here?" I asked.
She looked up, surprised but pleased to see me. "Yeah, I was just... thinking."
"About what?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Mika hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "Actually, I was wondering... about your powers."
That caught me off guard. "My powers?"
She nodded. "You mentioned before that your mom might be able to help... you know, explain why you have them."
I nodded slowly, understanding where she was coming from. The topic of my powers had been on my mind too. Ever since I discovered them, I felt like a part of me was different, like I wasn't fully myself anymore. And it wasn't just about having abilitiesâit was about what they meant to me.
"Yeah," I said finally. "Actually, I was planning to talk to her tonight. She just got back from a business trip."
Mika's eyes lit up a little at that. "Do you think she'll be able to help?"
"I hope so," I said, feeling a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "But I guess there's only one way to find out."
There was a brief pause, and then Mika spoke again, her voice more tentative this time. "Do you mind if I come with you?"
I blinked, a little surprised by the request. "You want to come with me to see my mom?"
Mika nodded. "Don't get all excited, I'm not doing it for you. I need to know how you got those powers because you weren't there at the moment they emit."
For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
"Yeah," I said, smiling. "Me too."
We left the venue together, the cool evening air brushing against our faces as we walked. There was something comforting about Mika's presence, something that made the whole situation feel a little less daunting.
As Mika and I made our way to my mom's place, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. A few days ago, I discovered that I had my powers. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew I needed to talk to my mom about it. I needed answers. Mika quickly transformed into her ShoutOut uniform.
We reached the house just as the sun began to set. The front door swung open before I even had a chance to knock. My mom stood there, looking tired but happy to see us. She'd just returned from another one of her business trips, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. There was always something she was holding back, something she never fully shared with me.
"Andrew," she greeted us warmly, pulling me into a tight hug before turning to Mika. "It's so good to see you, and ShoutOut? Is that the real you? What are you doing here?" My mom asked.
"You'll figure out soon, It's good to see you too, Mom," I replied, my voice betraying a bit of the nerves I was feeling.
"Hello Ma'am." Mika said. We stepped inside, the familiar smell of her cooking filling the air, but I could feel the tension in the room.
We sat down in the living room, and Mika stayed close by my side, her presence steadying me. I knew this was a conversation I had to lead, but having her there gave me strength.
"Mom," I began, trying to keep my voice steady, "something happened recently. I discovered... I have healing and absorbing powers."
Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked like she had seen a ghost. "You... you discovered them? Is that why ShoutOut is here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded. "Yeah. I don't know how I didn't realize it before, but I have them. I can heal people, just like you told me when I was a kid."
My mom's hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together. "Andrew, there's something I need to tell you. It's about how you got those powers."
Mika and I exchanged a glance, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Please tell me." I said, leaning forward.
My mom took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. "You remember when I used to work at the airport, right? When you were still very young?"
"Of course," I replied, the memories of her long hours at work flashing through my mind. "You worked there for years."
She nodded, her expression pained. "One day, something happened. There was an accidentâsomething that wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't there myself after I saw it turning into chaos, but Captain Man and Kid Danger were fighting Drexx with a new weapon, something called the OMEGA device. It malfunctioned, releasing an energy that should have been contained. I was there, cleaning up afterward, and I was exposed to the last power that was still in there."
I stared at her, stunned. "The OMEGA weapon? But... what does that have to do with my powers?"
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness I hadn't seen before. "The energy from that weapon didn't just harm peopleâit changed them. It gave me healing abilities. But I couldn't use them on myself, Andrew. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't heal my own injuries."
Mika pitied my mother. I barely noticed, my mind racing with everything my mom was telling me.
"I was in a... a bad situation back then," my mom continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Your step father, Lily's father, the man I was with at the time, he... he wasn't a good person. He hurt me, over and over again. I didn't know how to get out. But then, I discovered I was pregnant with Lily."
She paused, taking another deep breath as tears welled up in her eyes. "I knew I had to protect her, Andrew. I couldn't let him hurt her like he hurt me. So, I transferred the healing power to you. I hoped it would help me and Lily, to keep us safe, and maybe... maybe it would give you a chance at a better life."
I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My powers, the ones I only recently discovered I hadâthey came from her. She gave them to me to protect me, to make sure I could heal her wounds when she couldn't do it herself.
"I'm so sorry, Andrew," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to carry that burden. You were just a child."
I stood up, pulling her into a hug. "Mom, it's okay. You did what you had to do. You protected Lily and yourself, and now I understand why."
"I'm so sorry to hear this, but may I ask how you were able to transfer those powers?" Mika asked curiously.
"The powers also allows you to transfer powers, not only your own, but also others. If Andrew absorbs your powers now, he can't use them himself, but he can transfer them to me so I can use them. But he can only transfer it if you let him to." My mom explains.
"That makes sense." I say as I back away from our hug.
As Mika and I stepped out of my mom's house, the weight of everything we had just learned hung heavy in the air. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet street. The evening was cool, and the soft breeze carried the scent of my mom's gardenâa mix of jasmine and roses.
I walked beside Mika, our steps in sync, but my mind was still racing with the revelations. My mom's story, the truth about my powers, the reason she'd given them to meâit was a lot to process. I kept replaying her words in my head, trying to make sense of it all.
Mika broke the silence first. "Andrew, are you okay?" Her voice was soft, full of concern.
I stopped walking and turned to face her, taking a deep breath. "I don't know, Mika. I mean, I've always wondered about my powers, where they came from, why I had them. And now, knowing that my mom gave them to me because she was trying to protect herself and Lily... it's just..."
"It's a lot," she finished for me, stepping closer.
"Yeah," I said, nodding slowly. "But it also makes sense, you know? Why I never noticed. She was trying to protect us, even if it meant carrying that burden alone."
As we walked, I couldn't help but glance over at Mika, grateful that she was here with me.