The Gung Ho Lady (Gung Ho Series #1)

Chapter 1

WITH MY HEART broken from the recent revelation I have had from Brad Summerhald, I try to get by. Surprisingly, the work-oriented lifestyle is the best diversion to forget a heartbreak. My fangirling tendency seems to have stopped, since Brad’s sudden announcement of the girlfriend thing. It is all over the news on social media, magazines, television and even on the newspapers.

A lot of his fans have poured out their despair and anguish on his Facebook page. Some fans have commented that it is not true, and it is just a facade. He can never have a girlfriend for the whole reason that he is gay. That issue has been in the circulation of the entertainment business. He’s gay, or maybe a bisexual, and I could just laugh with the idea. How can he be? With all those muscles in his torso, that is not possible.

Some suggest there is a high possibility that he has a relationship with his manager who is allegedly, and for all the world to see, a bisexual.  Sam Gustavo, though older, is a hottie just like his talent Brad. A lot of women and men have been swooning over him because of his overflowing charisma. With all the hopes I have and the prayers I’ve prayed, I want to believe he is not. Still, he is a man and ready to smite on the female species only.

Set aside this fangirling, ‘cause right now, work has to come in. A dose of distraction I badly need one way or another. Somewhere on the National High Way, I had an errand and I am already on my way back to my place. I just processed the BIR thing needed for the human resource management at school, and now, regrettably I’m stuck in the traffic. I sigh out of exasperation. It is almost six in the evening and I’ve been trapped here for hours. I still have classes tomorrow and students to bore. And it’s unnerving—I haven’t prepared anything. Though I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get by with the stocked knowledge I have. I just hope there are no supervisors or department heads to observe me. Visual aids and lesson plans, they need to see them. Very traditional.

A crowd of people is blocking the road for quite a while now, and I don’t bother to get off the jeepney to see what is happening. It doesn’t tickle my interest somehow. All I know is that, it is the main cause of this traffic. Get a life people! Since I cannot yell that to them, I just snort inwardly. I gape at the scene. Feeling a little pissed, I pray for a long thread of patience.

“Manong, what do we have there?” I mutter to the driver, the only other person left in the jeepney aside from me. He just shrugs and looks unconcerned.

All of the passengers have left and moved along with the crowd. My curiosity at its peak, I excuse myself from Manong. And as soon as I get a glimpse of the world concealed from me through that jeep, I examine the surroundings.

Aside from my fellow passengers, there are civilians and bystanders sticking out their noses and struggling to take a peek of whatever lies at the end of the crowd. I try my best to get through the other bystanders and move my way to the center of the crowd.

With a slight view of what’s happening in the center, I see people who look foreign, wearing black shirts with the word STAFF on the back. Some look professional as they maneuver the big cameras. There are also huge men with strong built and they look like bouncers from one of the movies I have watched. These men politely usher some bystanders to make enough space for filming a scene.

The crowd beams with excitement when the protagonist, I assume, reveals himself to the crowd. People on my side are cheering the familiar name.

Summerhald.

Brad Summerhald? Is that really him?

Blood rushes through my veins. The idea of Brad Summerhald being here, doing a shoot at this very moment takes me to cloud nine. It is insanely impossible. I should have known if he is doing a shoot in the Philippines. Being updated about him through Instagram and Twitter has become my routine. And I surely doubt that I would miss any of his activities in the show business.

Surprisingly, the guy wearing an all-black motor suit waves at the crowd. I mean, he actually does that, and it’s admirable. Instead of acting snobbish, he is unbelievably polite. In my total astonishment, he walks towards the crowd and shakes some of the hands of the people I can safely label as his fans. Impressive.    

He is tall. Normal for a foreigner like him, I assume. Though his face is hidden by a headdress, his appeal is everywhere to be found. He oozes with sex appeal, that is how people connote it. People just can’t get enough of him. He has that charisma. And I, for sure, know the existence of this Adonis. This is the main reason why I am crazy for Brad Summerhald that I have neglected to gaze at the other breeds of the male species.

Enthralled with the thoughts I have, it is a struggle to get a glimpse of him from the thick crowd. For once, I am thankful for having skinny frame. I join the crowd. It is hard though, and becoming suffocated from this sweaty crowd might happen any moment. But something feels odd as the space get wider and wider from the point where I am standing. Slowly, people are tearing apart from the crowd.

I am relieved I can finally get a good view of the shooting. But to my astonishment, a motorbike rushes towards the crowd, towards me to be exact.

Frozen like a statue, I can’t move. It is as if I am nailed right there. The motorbike doesn’t stop. Like a blazing fire, it speeds towards me. People are shouting and yelling at me—in slow motion with their incomprehensible words. Their voices echo, but they don’t make sense at all. All those frightened faces and stunned expressions don’t register clearly in my rational mind, not until the bike hit the car that have been parked on the side. It crushes the car, literally. I am devastated. Overwhelmed. Dumbfounded. I can see people rushing towards the devastating condition of the car and the bike, especially of the guy riding the bike.

Fear creeps in. Fear that I might get sued for obstructing this shooting and for murdering the protagonist. My eyesight becomes blurry, my knees won’t stay still. The remaining strength I have disappeared because of the impact from the accident. Damaged and shattered, everything turns black and dark.