Chapter 7: Tutoring
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Michael finished his shift right on time, clocking out at ten in the evening. The mall was quiet now, a stark contrast to its usual bustling state. Most shops had already pulled down their shutters, and the usual crowd of shoppers had thinned out. He stretched a bit, feeling the strain of the day's work in his muscles. Checking his phone, he saw a message from Catherine Estolas.
[Is your work finished? Just tell me, and I'll book you a Grab to my place.]
When he read that, Michael's eyes widened in surprise. Her place? Is she really that desperate to finish that homework to the point she'll let a stranger inside her home?
Taking a moment to think, Michael typed a quick reply. [Yes, I just clocked out. But are you sure about inviting me over?]
Almost immediately, a response came back. [Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry. So what's your location now so I can book you a Grab? Don't worry, you won't have to pay the driver as I'll pay by card.]
Michael hesitated but eventually agreed. Within minutes, a Grab car was booked, and he was on his way to Catherine's place. The ride was quiet, and he spent most of it wondering what he was getting into. He'd never been in a situation like this before, helping a customer—especially one from a well-off family—after hours.
The car pulled up to a luxurious-looking condo in Rockwell. Michael stepped out, his head tilting back to take in the impressive sight of the Rockwell Condominiums. The buildings soared into the night sky, their edges outlined with a warm, orange glow that gave them an almost ethereal presence against the darkening cityscape.
He walked forward to the lobby where he was met with a nod from a concierge dressed in a smart uniform. As he walked through the grand reception hall, he couldn't help but be awed by the marble floors, the high ceilings, and the modern art pieces that adorned the walls. The air was perfumed with a subtle, expensive scent, and soft instrumental music played in the background, adding to the aura of exclusivity.
"Where to sir?" Asked the concierge.
"I'm supposed to meet someone here, her name is Catherine Estolas," Michael replied.
"Ah....she did mention someone coming over. What's your name for verification?"
"Michael...Michael Reyes," Michael responded, shifting slightly under the concierge's assessing gaze.
The concierge checked his list, nodded, and then directed Michael to the private elevator. "Penthouse floor," he said. "Miss Estolas is expecting you."
The ride up was quick, and Michael felt his nerves bundle up. He was about to enter the private space of one of the richest families in the city. When he reached the penthouse and the doors opened, Catherine was there to greet him.
"Thanks for coming," she said, leading him into a large living area that was stylish yet minimalistic.
Michael followed her, his eyes quickly scanning the room. It was filled with designer furniture and looked out over the city through massive windows. No personal items were in sight, making the space feel more like a show home than a lived-in apartment.
"I don't belong here," Michael muttered under his breath.
Catherine seemed to have heard him and spoke. "Yeah...this is probably too much for someone like you. Well, you can thank me for allowing you to see a glimpse of this kind of lifestyle," she said, with a half-mocking tone.
Michael chose to ignore the jab. "So, where do we start?" he asked, trying to keep things professional and focusing on the reason he was there.
Catherine shrugged a touch of pride in her eyes. "It's tough, but I manage."
"But aren't UP students smart? This should be easy for you because you got into that university."
"Are you making fun of me?" Catherine said, her tone shifting
to a slight annoyance.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," Michael quickly backpedaled, realizing his words could have come off wrong. "I just meant that you're clearly capable since you're studying at such a prestigious place."
Catherine's expression softened a bit. "Well, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses," she admitted. "This just happens to be a topic I struggle with."
"Fair enough," Michael conceded. "Look, you got the basics down now. With a bit more practice, you'll be acing these problems in no time."
Catherine nodded, seeming to appreciate his encouragement. "Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that."
They spent the next hour going over the remaining problems, with Michael guiding her through the tougher parts. By the end of it, Catherine was solving them with much more confidence.
"Looks like my work here is done," Michael said, standing up and stretching his back. "You've pretty much got it all covered now."
Catherine looked up at him, a genuine smile on her face. "Yeah, I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks, Michael."
"No problem, Catherine," Michael replied, gathering his things. "Just remember the steps we went through, and you'll be fine."
As Michael headed for the door, Catherine walked him out. "I'll transfer the payment to your Gcash account," she said. "And maybe... if I need help again, I can reach out?"
"Sure, anytime," Michael responded with a nod. He stepped into the elevator and gave her a final wave as the doors closed.
Michael heaved a sigh of relief. At last, it was done, he checked his phone and saw Catherine already messaging him.
"What's your number so I can transfer the money? Oh, and also, I need to know where you live so I can book you a Grab."
"What a thoughtful woman," Michael mused, and simply replied with the information she needed.
Thirty seconds later, when the elevator doors opened, he received a notification from his Gcash account informing him that there had been a money transfer, but instead of three thousand, she made it five thousand. Is that a mistake?
A message popped up again in his Messenger. "I have transferred you five thousand because I am impressed by your teaching skills...consider it a bonus. Also, I have booked you a Grab, it'll arrive in five minutes. I'll share the driver's information so you can look out for it outside. Thank you once again."
Michael long pressed her message and tapped the like icon, acknowledging it. And then another message popped up but this time, it was from his mother.
"Where are you, it's already twelve o'clock?!"
"Oh shit..." Michael checked the time, it was 12:27 a.m. "Fuck...my mother is going to kill me."