All Four-One PART ONE

By Michelle Tan
~For Krissha Sualog
Fan Girls get the man they deserve. Keep your fuel burning. I love you little sis!

Four lucky fan girls have had the chance to date the Man of their dreams! The problem was, they thought they've "won" the man. In reality, they're still competing for him. Who wins? Find out.

DAY 3.

Hannah Reid, 21
Mirage Starr, 18
Natalie Sky, 17
Posh Brookes, 22
Samantha Park, 16, DISQUALIFIED

            As I looked through the list of finalist for a contest called "Dream Date with Dream Guy", I can't help but wonder how many women have cried and wept for not being accepted to it. I'm not The Perfect Guy, but everyone calls me The Boy Wonder. I guess there is some sort of energy in me that drugged them to spinning overdosed.
            It has been three exhausting days since the contest started. The team has several screening tests. From 1500 ladies, it was down to a hundred, and then trimmed by five. One has been disqualified for announcing it too early. The girls are not supposed to know that there are actually five of them I will date. It's quite unfair for these women that we are treating them like toys.

            "Nathan." Mr. Dawson, my manager, called me, while flipping the sheets on his clipboard. "These four lucky girls are the finest you can date in La Belle Isla. The press wants you to pick the finest of your supporters. It would be included in a fashion spread editorial in Vogue." He hands me the folder.
            "I don't think I have to do this." Without looking on any of these girls profile, I know how they behave at me on social media. Hannah bombards all my notifications with comments; same is true for Posh, who always was the first to like and favorite every posts I have; And there is sweet Natalie, very honest about every comment she posts, and rarely "likes" my photos.
            "Nathan, we agreed to this. This will be your stepping stone for more bookings, more of everything, hooray for fame. Thanks to me Avery Dawson, who keeps your profile clean and classy." I forcedly handed him the clipboard. How could he think of women that way?
            "I mean, do we have to break women's hearts for this?" It's very immature for him to put me to a contest about Love and Dating. Just because my last girlfriend broke up with me three years ago, doesn't mean I have to date again. I love independence.
            "Come on, chics dig ya! Give them a chance. Don't think that this is a prenup or something. It's called show business."
            "I'm not sure they're ready for criticisms they would get from one another, the press, my so-called fans, my family, her family, the world..."
            His tone changes when he said, "I bet they are. But the question is, are you? Think about what you're missing." He hands me again the brown folder and leaves.

            I am left with awe. There is no excuse for me to back out. I've signed the contract. If only Avery didn't lock it away from me, I would have tore it apart. But there's no way than accepting this.
            I reviewed the profile of every girl, the likes/shares/favorites they've had, and their description on why they want to join the contest. Oh why did they anyway? Part of me feels awesome for having flocked by beautiful girls, and the other feels sympathetic because I felt like a pet in an aquarium in this industry. My every move is undermined.
            All these four names are familiar with me. One is quite attractive in her way. But if I were to choose someone, it would be.

DAY 15.
            Today is intended for a very unusual lock-in-the-box day for one of them. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I'll tell you more about the box later, but here is what I think. I dislike the idea of dating these girls by making them undergo a psychological test whether how far will they go for their love for me. What would happen if one or all of them went lunatic. The other fans would blame me. I blame the management. The management saves face from the contract I've signed. I shouldn't have filled my name in the blank line on the lower right on every page. I should have read the whole content and reread it again and again; unlocking even its figurative meaning beyond its terms and condition.

            As far as I can remember, the contract states that, "The Tree Star Management will conduct a contest to all eligible women to date Jonathan Adams without knowing that it is actually a competition to win over him. Five women will compete to win my heart for a weekend vacation at La Belle Isla, with the company taking care of all the expenses. The candidates must never speak that about their winnings, or else disqualification shall be thereof applied. Jonathan must never talk about these women, about the contest, and about their progress to him. Any women are given the opportunity to date the model for a day (24 hours or less) at any place they want, given these places secretly have hidden cameras are positioned. After every woman has dated the model, each would be secretly placed in the testing room, to prove how much they love their date. The company will not issue any medical insurance if psychological or mental effects would be providing illness in these women. The one who lasted the longest would be the winner of the contest" My eyes left a cold stare on my signature imprinted on the lower right.

             I never fully agreed on this, until they fooled me to give me a five-year contract on booking with every Fashion Show that will be held for the next five years, a lifetime gym and fitness plan, a monthly allowance and free transportation to every music events, every concerts, every travelling plans I love. How could I be so selfish? I didn't even think about what the other girls would feel and become after this endeavor.
            I really should have read the contract.

            I opened the door to the storage room. Hannah is waiting for me. She looked so bored. When I unlatched the knob, she hysterically screamed all over my face.
            "Oh my God, it's you! Where have you been? How are you? I've been waiting for you for so long."
            "Are you ready?" I simply returned a smile. I observed her clothes. White skimpy shorts with sequins, black leather vest, a red tank top with the statement YOU SUCK, and some old red chucks.
            "Anything for you, munchkin."
            I haven't really explained to her what is within and is expected of her at the Testing Room, the box. I know she would eventually flunk it, so I bet not.
            "Where are you taking me?" She asked with confusion. I guess I've been thinking a lot that I haven't notice how much she filled the room with all her nonsense blabbers.
            "You'll see." I winked. "I never really took anyone to this special room," Of course, because you're the first to all the girls who'll be tested. "If you're willing to show me how much you love me, would this be a secret? You know, between the two of us."
            She giggled and squeezed my right shoulder. "You're so buffy. Have you been working out? Nice work."
            We walked until I showed her the box. It looks like an ordinary but typical guy room, perhaps my room, with all the mock collection I have. There is a bookshelf filled with my favorite books, a striped couch, a closet of my clothes (fake), a flat screen television set with speakers, a brown Japanese table, a mini refrigerator, and I think there is a standee of me. All of these are reproduced, you know. Nothing original.
            "What's this?" she asked.
            "It's where I go when I wanted to be alone. When I feel the world does not understand me. It's my comfort room. Are you willing to stay here?" There are actually four (since the fifth one is deconstructed.) or these rooms duplicated for every girl on my list. She felt so special.
            "With you? Sure?" She's really impulsive.
            "No, without me." Her face saddened. I continued, well, not for long. I'll go back for you, here."
            "I guess." She mumbled.
            "I know you could do it. All you have to do is anything you want. You could read my books, watch TV, eat, anything... I'd be back soon."
            "Sure, I'll wait."
            "But there is one thing. If you think you couldn't wait, just open this door." Pointing at the only door that has a GOODBYE carved on it. I'm glad the company didn't provide clothes and a bathroom for any of them, so it would make it harder for them to stay. The only food on the fridge is Liver spread and cold trout, and at least two bottles of cold water for them.
            "Okay." She said. I tried to kiss her forehead; I felt her squirm as my lips bumped her forehead. I smirked at her as I closed the door, seeing her stand near the table.

            I went to the observation room. I want her to fail the contest. Our date four days ago was a disaster. Of course, the date was planned. I was supposed to ask her what she likes, and what she fears. She just said she's afraid of losing me. The company targets anything that would make these girls cry out of the box. I wonder what was planned for her.
            I forgot to mention that everything in the room is controlled. The cable has limited channels, and its videos are proposed, the closet has clothes but can have different things appearing on it, the couch can move, and different holes are hidden to make anything happen. Each girl is timed and whether they last or not, I don't care. The best part is, the Testing Room has mind control detection, so anyone who is in the control room can hear the thoughts encompassing by every person at the Testing Room. I don't know what Mr. Dawson is up to, but I wouldn't root myself to survive a minute in it.

            There is a can of coke at the table on the control room. I moved the lid to open. I gulped some. The bubbles are ecstasy as they half choke half tingle my throat and its bittersweet taste makes me intoxicated but not quite insane. That's when I remember what happened four days ago.

DAY 9.

Tokyo Tokyo

            "It's a nice feeling that you chose me. I love you Nathan, Jonathan. Can I call you mine instead?" Hanna smiled creepily at me.
            "I prefer Nathan, thank you. So, what made you choose this place?" Honestly, I don't dine here. Their red iced tea gave my friend, Joe, a migraine. I am definitely not ordering that one. I prefer coke.
            "I love Japanese food. Raw food, vegetables, healthy, and stuff, I guess." I don't understand a thing she's saying. It continued to channel up to minutes, and I pretended to look interested. Our orders where placed at the table, I don't know they serve vegetables here. Well, I'm going to chunk on some.
            "Huh," I said. She was asking a question.
            "Do you think I am pretty?" Wow, she's just insecure.
            "You look okay." I observed her clothes: plaid pink polo, black tank top, red shorts, some black knee high, and white converse.  "Like a rock star." I winked. She giggled.
            "How much do I rock your world?" she splashed her chopped carrots all over my face, and she recklessly removed some on my gray shirt. Later, I saw her quaff her canned coke.
            "Occasionally" trying to get out of here because you annoy me, I replied. Suddenly she spat coke all over my face.
            "Oh my gosh I'm so sorry. I am a stupid woman."
            "It's al right." Is it me or is the death of feminism have just began? She wiped tissue all over the messed area. I feel like trash.
            "Thank you for understanding. You're my hero." Trust me, I'm not trying to be, and I am not yours.

            The rest of the afternoon ended up out of the ordinary. We walked around town, had some fans take photos with us while she talked about herself and how I made a difference on her life. She vapidly asked me my number, and of course, I gave her my digits. Later that night, my phone was bombarded with her messages twice as much notifications I get from having my photos liked on Instagram. Shocks I need to breathe.
Back to DAY 15.

            2:37:04 the time she lasted. I wasn't paying attention on how she nailed those hours. I'm hoping someone could last a bit longer.
            "She's obsessed with you, man." Dawson said.
            "Can't get enough of me? I'm glad she failed. How was she there?"
            "Horrid. She nearly ate your standee. I swear, she kissed it several times. And she also took home some of your clothes and perfume. She hated the liver spread on the fridge."
            "What made her cease?" I asked.
            "She had to pee. Apparently, she opened the door. It was over. The staff explained, and she went home hysterically crying. We have two staffs knocked out by getting punched by that girl. I just want you to know that I'm glad she didn't last long enough."
            "Me too."

            I went home and reminisced about how Day 12 was with Posh Brookes. She's a nice girl, a typical fandom. She and I went to an amusement park on the South. I had fun, and we nearly kissed, and I know we just met so I halted her. She may have a great chance on my heart. She's 22, beautiful, single. I am 22, HOT, single... We'd be a banging couple.
            Well, she's next. I wonder how far she'll take the test. But for now, I have to rest.
            I went to my perfectly folded sheets. I enveloped myself in silky white blanket and just thought of Posh.
All Four-One PART ONE All Four-One PART ONE Reviewed by Michelle Tan on 5:54 PM Rating: 5

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