Chapter 7: The Reporter's Job Interview

I continued my life in Bacolod City, where I had more courage and experience to rely on in my life. Another thing I want to do is to help my brothers. Now, as a professional person, I have a responsibility to my parents to help them in whatever way I can. I tried my best to find a job, but the economic recession of our country, the Philippines continued to slow. The sugar industry in Negros Occidental is on the verge of collapse due to some more import problems and new restrictions.

My money in the bank has continued to decrease over time, and I am trying to find a job that will help me live, and help my family in Hinigaran, Negros Occidental my hometown. I sold all the properties that Daniel Montenegro bequeathed to me. It is very difficult for me to find a good job with the best salary in Bacolod City. Let me tell you what my job is in the meantime, where I started my first job in the last few months after I graduated from college.

An amazing story indeed!

I graduated with BS in Commerce, right? But I was hired as an extra reporter by the newly established TV Station in Bacolod City. At the end of my work, one Monday morning, Arthur Jimenez, the director of Sports News of TV 717, said, "Veronica, this Friday night there is a boxing championship match at the Paglaum Sports Complex. You are asking me for support in job, so here's your chance. Today, around noon, I need you to take a three-minute interview with Billy the Kid. If you do a good job, that interview will be given to all the TV stations in locally and nationwide. A great opportunity isn't it, would you agree, would you do Miss Veronica?"

How could I not? This is Jack Pot, let's talk about my ability to interview the famous boxer! After some time, I would finally land a weekend-only, graveyard shift of some sort, with a good paycheck. I hope, this job will provide opportunities to climb more than my current position. Arthur Jimenez makes sure I understand a deadline exists, "In order to have enough time to edit and distribute it, we need to consider the tape of the interview. Will you accept the challenge, Veronica Villamor?"

"Veronica Villamor is your talented-lady Mr. Jimenez, reliable in everything, I think, I have 500% girl power," I answered back with laurel on my head.

Following the career of Billy the Kid when I was in college, I knew a few things about him. His stats: undefeated after 20 professional fights with 18 KOs. His reputation: one of the fastest, strongest Ilonggo fighters in Philippine history, likes to chase women and punch annoying reporters. If you want an interview and hope to walk away unscathed, you have to follow his rules: catch him before the workout starts, or when he comes out of his dressing room after his rubdown. Arriving at the temporary training camp at the Paglaum Sports Complex exhibit hall, a number of well-known boxers scheduled to be undercards in the upcoming fight worked out. I noticed that many people were watching Billy the Kid jump rope, and I was impressed with him. Without letting the media know, he started his workout early, meaning there was only one chance left to get an interview. To make matters worse, the post-workout interview period may not start in time for me to return the cassette tape to the station on Mr. Jimenez.

Billy the Kid finishes jumping rope and switches to the light bag, which is designed to improve a fighter's ability to keep throwing punches and keep his hands and arms up, even when tired and sore. After this, he punished the heavy bags; each thunderclap, potential bone-crack, blasted beads of sweat in all directions. The sand-filled punching bag loosened and buckled at the end of its chain like a condemned prisoner dangling from a hangman's rope. Finally, he climbs to the canvas of the boxing ring and goes through the ropes to spar. At the end of each three-minute round, a new, leather helmet would step into the ring, as his predecessor was assisted by him.

Instead of trying to defeat Billy the Kid, these men are simply paid to mimic the style of Billy the Kid's upcoming opponent, the top contender, Flash Robotic. As the fourth sparring partner collapsed in the corner closest to where I was standing, Billy the Kid announced, "Enough chop-chop for now!" He dressed in his yellow satin robe and blew kisses of appreciation to his fans watching. His prize was enough of a massage, he walked the ropes and headed to his private dressing room, with me of course in pursuit of him for the interview. I knocked on the locked door as Billy the Kid entered less than 30 seconds after the dressing room door closed. From inside came angry words and the sound of the door latch was withdrawn.

Billy's personal assistant, fifty-year-old Manuel Duran, steamed his gray hair, crew-cut, "What do you want girl?" he asked. Trying to stay confident in myself that I can do this job, I answered, "I'm Miss Veronica Villamor, of TV News 717. I was sent to get an interview. Billy the Kid started working out ahead of schedule , so I missed talking to him. I'll probably have to leave to get back to the station before he comes back to do his post-workout interviews, so I need to see him now, just about three to four minutes ."

Annoyed, Manuel Duran shouted, "Billy won't grant you an interview!" He stared at me like I was a crazy person, "He won't talk to anyone until he gets dressed. That's the rule!"

The door suddenly closed and hit me in the face. Furious, but unwilling to give up, I posed for a boxing match myself, banging on the door involuntarily, until it opened again. Duran stuck his head out again, he said, still annoyed, "Billy won't talk to a reporter today!"

"Alright boss, manager, director," I plead, not hesitating to declare discrimination to pretend I'm not a reporter for a minute. If I do not get this interview, I may be charged more and may even be fired. I thought like Darna, "There must always be a way ...Ding the rock..ayyyy..Darna!"

"You have a girl with you?" Manuel Duran asked suddenly. A soft grin spread across his face, "Billy will let you if you're with a pretty girl."

"I'm beautiful and a woman too," I suddenly said to Manuel Duran.

"No, Billy's favorite girl is sexy and has make-up."

I put the sexist issue aside, my chances of getting this interview are about to be TKO'd. How can I find a girl in a short time? "Boss, how long will Billy be in the massage room?" I asked with hope in my heart.

"About thirty minutes, or maybe more but," Duran shrugged, "depending on how he feels." Thinking faster than moving Billy's famous fists, I calculated the time it would take to get to TV station 717, pick up Miss Myra Montes, the new receptionist who was a knockout, and drag her back here as my ticket or stepping stone to get to the dressing room. If I'm lucky, it might take twenty-five minutes. I turned and ran to the parking lot. I started the car quickly and sped off.

When I arrived at the station, Myra Montes was sitting at the receptionist's desk when I suddenly burst through the station door. In front of her desk were a station appointment book, her small black Bible, and a bottle of cotton candy nail polish. The boyish attitude I used to reinforce my puritan persona. Dressed in a V-necked, cashmere sweater, revealing a less than innocent cleavage of Myra's exposed. Suddenly holding it in his hand, "Come with me, I'm chasing an interview with Billy the Kid."

"Why, where are we going?" She asked, her mascara-coated lashes fluttering in confusion.

"We're going to interview Billy the Kid."

"I'm not going," she protested, "I have to ___"

"You have to help me get this interview," I protested. "If there's anything to say, I'll tell them I did it with you. Now, come."

Holding her arm, I pulled her towards the elevator. Thank goodness she wore flat-shoes, I thought while holding her hand, but, when I looked, oh my! Stylish, wearing five-inch heels and would slow us down, from the station to the car, and then, with her grumbling all the way, from the car to Billy's dressing room. Continuing my assault on the dressing room door, I prayed that Billy wouldn't leave. Standing next to me, Myra combed her new color-blonde hair with one hand as she looked into her compact mirror to make sure she looked good.

When I peeked inside Billy's dressing room, Boss's Personal Assistant was there and he didn't exactly welcome me with open arms. “I thought I told you….” Noticing Myra, his stern words stopped suddenly and changed to, “Just a minute, just a minute,” as she looked at Myra from head to toe, and again looked at her hair to legs, an inspection of the vision angel beside me. Myra's sparkling brown eyes gave off a "what-am-I-doing-here" attitude type of uncertainty and the general aura of someone who was usually off her mind rather than yours truly. her excessive beautification.

In my mind I wanted to get my interview and go back to the station, I reminded Manuel Duran, "You said if I brought a sexy woman ...." I added with a little sway-butt-model style, "She's qualified, don't you think?" He nodded and stepped aside.

In contrast to the bright lights and noise of the exhibition, the small dressing room was dark and quiet. The sounds of the fighters in training faded away: The thud of heavy punching bags, the whoosh of jump-ropes cutting through the air and clicking rhythmically against the concrete floor, the grunts and groans that accompanied the thrown which are punches and smacks of gloved hands against human flesh, or heavy leather punching bags. Sweat and liniment lingered in the light air. Dim light with a dark green metal shade hung from the ceiling, providing enough illumination for everyone to see inside. Stretched across a seven-foot-long table was thirty-year-old Billy the Kid. Except for the white, modest towel that covered his rear, the elegant champion was wearing nothing. A Chinese gentleman massaged Billy's massive hamstring, while Bruno Bautista, Billy's trainer, sat on a metal chair in the corner, sipping a can of diet soda. Lying on his hard stomach, Billy appeared as lifeless as a morgue stiff. His face was turned away from the door, arms lying at his sides. His hands, which reached past the point on his thigh where the white towel stopped, were relaxed and open, instead of the tightly clenched fists that had earned him millions of pesos."Billy," Duran spoke softly, "Champ, someone wants to see you."

With the body still, Billy replied, "Billy the Kid, the Champ never meets anyone during his rubdown. Duran, you know that."

Manny Duran looked nervously glancing at Myra and said, "I know you're not meeting anyone during the rubdown, but Champ, you really want to see this body, trust me."

My gaze shifted from Billy the Kid to Myra Montes, whose owl-like eyes were watching Billy; her expression, was one of shock or embarrassment. Finally, Billy's body moved. Without rolling over, he raised his head and turned it to us suddenly. He began to undress Myra with his eyes. That was inevitable, but I felt bad, anyway. Even in the dim light, I could see his red face. His eyes moved, even more, his body lengthened, his face redder. Intending to start the interview and stop the torture, I hit the record on my cassette player. Prepared to ask my first question, I held the Sony Recorder in front of me, but Billy beat me to the punch."Are you a boxing fan?" Champ asked me. If Billy wanted to ask a few questions, no problem, as long as it helped move things along. "Sure am, Champ," I answered. "I'm Veronica Villamor, TV News 717. Followed your career since you won the gold medal at the Olympics ...."

Billy interrupts, saying, "I'm not talking to you, Sonny gurl." An excited growl came from the corner of the room, where Duran was standing. Determined to get the situation under control, I said, "We have a hundred TV stations across the country and a thousand radio stations across the country too, waiting to hear what you have to say....Champ."

"Shut up gurl and listen."

"But, what about the interview we're supposed to…."

"Don't annoy me gurl," he suddenly got up from the table he was lying on, "kid, I said, shut up and listen," he said seriously.

"I, uh, yes sir. I apologize." Like a wounded warrior, leaning on the ropes, I fought to regain my wits."Okay,"

Billy nodded. "Now, young lady, I asked. Are you a fan of boxing?"

Myra glanced at me, seemingly unsure if she should answer, or what to say if she did."Go ahead, Myra," I urged her. "Answer the Champ."

"Well..." she squeaked. If he had auditioned for the role of a little mouse in an animated movie he would have won the part, for sure.

"Well?" Billy asked again, "Is that you?"

"Not really," Myra admitted. "I don't want violence."

With my head bowed, I stopped the recorder and thought, "Thanks, Myra. If you said you were a boxing fan, we could have brought this interview back, but no."

From the metal chair where Bruno was still sitting, Billy's trainer said, "Bet she ain't seen a knockout, Champ."

"You know what, Bruno, I bet you're right. Is that true, sexy lady?" Billy asked Myra.

I sensed something bad was going on, but I didn't know what until Billy got up and let the towel fall to the floor."Why, now you have," danced Billy. "Isn't that a knockout?" Billy planted his hands on his hips and stretched to the left, from the waist down. Bouncing back and forth. Then he repeated the movement, to the right. Bouncing again. As he stretched from side to side, and began to swing and swing, back and forth ... like a Pendulum. Billy's exhibition could be a scene for a fun movie, The Pit, and the Organic Pendulum, based on Edgar Allan Poe's classic horror story. The strange sight inspired feelings of awe and inadequacy, evoking memories of being a little girl at the zoo with a peanut in my tiny hand, reaching over metal bars toward the elongated trunks of the giant elephant. However, in this case, I had no peanuts to offer, and I didn't want to be anywhere near that trunk. My boss's words earlier this morning about decent exposure popped into my head, "Decent Exposure?"

While laughing Bruno Bautista, Manuel Duran, the Chinese, and Billy. I winced. I'm a dead person, as if ashamed, wowed by the size, it's big, but I keep my mouth shut. The way Myra looked reminded me of a cartoon where the blood rose on a character's face, resembling a firecracker thermometer. His eyes threatened to pop out of her skull. She made little noises for a moment and then let loose with a blood-curdling scream. As Billy the Kid and his entourage roared with delight, she wrestled with the locked door, wrenched desperately at the latch, opened it, and ran from the dressing room.

With chuckles and snorts, I said, "Oh, thank you. Thank you very much." Pointing to the open door, I made sure they knew what they had done. "I have to work with her, I know."

"Maybe not," Manuel Duran hissed, building up a new burst of chants, "Guess who's got to drive her back to the station?"

"She's going to kill me!" I exclaimed.

"Oooooh," Billy shook his head. "You have more trouble than Flash Robotics." He wiped the tears induced by laughter from his eyes, he said, "I think I owe you a good interview."

A quick glance at my watch showed the time twenty to thirty-five minutes. Pushing my trusty Sony towards The Champ again, I said, "Let's do it, now"During our interview, Billy opened up to me in a way no other reporter had ever interviewed. Calls came in from everywhere, praising me for eliciting such honest responses from a tough guy, the Champ Boxer. The interview was positive with my boss. That Friday, Billy also did the Flash Robotic, KOing him in less than two minutes of the second round. I was upgraded to a full-time day shift position and received a fat bonus, to level up. Myra also got a well-deserved bonus. After all, I wouldn't have seen her if she hadn't been a knockout.

I continued working as a reporter, meeting famous personalities and the handsome men around, but I got involved in drugs while getting along with them. My story then came back without me realizing it. Popularity blinds me especially if I have a lot of money in my pocket and bank.

Emily was there to remind me constantly, extending her time in whatever ways she could give me. Although Mr. Mario Leynes, a rich businessman from the north of Negros Occidental became my live-in partner, who gave me terrible problems in my pocket and work, he turned out to be a gold-digger and a liar. When I discovered his smell we had a big fight and parted ways.

I remember Daniel Montenegro when I'm in this situation. I immediately lost my job, self-esteem, and money. I lost my popularity in society and even gossip. I really broke down, I broke down and I knew I couldn't resist the temptation. It eats me, especially the money. I can do everything if I have a lot of it, it lifts the air in my body. Money really hurts the body. But everything has a limit, I'm addicted to vice, men, and drugs again.

Emily Villar came up to me again to get up. When I healed the things that brought hope into my life I gave time and appreciation. I've changed my determination to succeed. Emily was the one I enjoyed being with because it gave me the freedom to reveal something in my heart. She is there to listen to me, to what I want to say, what I want to do in my life right now. She proposed to work in the restaurant again. I was reluctant at first, but my hopeless situation told me to accept the job. I was thinking, I went back to my old job at the restaurant. I felt sad and it turns out I missed her ... they ... she ... they ... who?

XXX