Opp comes out of the bathroom wearing the same jeans from yesterday – bare from the navel up – and wiping his hair with a white towel, which obviously Jeff let him use just for today.

"You can use my deodorant if you like," said Jeff as he sits upright on his bed with his head against its board.

"I did. The blue Dove one inthide the overhead cabinet, right? We uthe the thame variant."

"GP uses the green one." Jeff, now dressed properly, frisks the pockets of his shorts, feeling the rolled currencies he put in there.

"GP again; how romantic." Opp puts on his shirt, his hair now moist instead of wet. Afterwards, he hangs the towel on a stand by the window to let it dry. "Thank you for the breakfatht. Not many people who hire me do that thame thing the nektht day," he said, sitting on the bed beside Jeff.

"Don't mention it." Jeff throws a hairbrush to Opp, who catches it with both hands and starts using it immediately.

"What wath it that you athked earlier?"

"How did you end up like this – a sex worker – and what do you mean when you said about having something that is a make-believe?"

"That term ith offenthive, you know – thex worker. There ith a better word for that."

"I apologize. I don't know how to describe it in another way."

After a parting his soft and shiny hair in the center, Opp gives back the hairbrush. Looking Jeff in the eyes, he echoes a level of seriousness that cancels out every single mischievous gesture and word he did and uttered – respectively – earlier. "Not all people are perfect, Jeff; not all were born with a thilver thpoon in their mouth; not all grew up problem-free," he started. His tone is unlike the playful one he has had since the other night.

"I know: we all have our share of difficulties." Jeff takes his head and back off the board and sits upright, knowing that it's serious hour from here on in.

"There are thome who withheth to ethcape the thetback of life by trying to do thomething outthide of their comfort thone – either thomething they haven't done before or ath a latht rethort."

"Like this – like what you are doing. Is that right, Opp?" For the first time, Jeff calls his guest in the name that he prefers, feeling the emotion on Opp's voice in this early part of their talk.

Opp nods. "There are thome who doeth it for fun. Otherth do it for a thpethific reathon. Either way, there ith a common point to all thith: along with thith attempt is the conthern of how otherth will take it – ethpethially thothe who know uth – in cathe they find out."

"So it is a secret to everyone else? You keep it that way?"

"Yeth, Jeff, and for ath long ath we live if we can do it. That ith why we are called alterth. Alterth in the thenthe that what we are doing ith the other thide of our self – like our alternate – henthe, the term is used."

"Alter? So you are an alter?"

"Yeth, Jeff."

"But there is no way you can hide something for so long: secrets have their own way of making it to the surface."

"I know, and for that, we do an unoffithial agreement."

"Which is?"

"We keep our identitieth thafe to our fellow alterth and do those who..." Opp is hesitant as the next couple of terms cut him deep every time he says it – let alone, think of it. "...uthe uth."

"Use you?"

"I told you that thome doeth it for fun and otherth for a purpothe, right?"

"So you are an alter for a purpose?"

"Yeth."

"What is that purpose, then?"

"Ekthra buckth." The sea of embarrassment that Opp visualized earlier has ebbed significantly far back. Upon its return, it splashes water on him that is neither warm nor cold but is potent enough do wash away all the morale out of him. As he looks down on the bed, his head dangles from his neck as if it is a weightless object.

"But at the price – letting some steam out even to those you only met, right?"

Opp did not answer. Maintaining silence, he nods while his head is still in a bow.

"But you can't be sure that those people will not reveal who you are. Your contract is made of saliva and not paper."

"That ith a rithk – I know. I jutht have to hold their word for it: if they keep the thecret, then 'yey!; if they tell, I'm thcrewed." Opp raises his head up, his face is without a trace of even the remotest feeling of jollity.

"Screwed like what you were last night?" asked Jeff with a smirk. He knows how heavy what Opp just said, and now is a good time to crack a little pun.

"That ith a different thcrewing, Jeff. What I mean ith I'm in a lot of trouble onthe my real identity ith ekspothe."

"I know. I'm just trying to dissipate the tension. I can feel it from where I sit." Jeff's smile never wanes to make Opp feel better.

"The thcrewing you did latht night ekspothed how much of a machine you are on the thheets: you made me moan like a wildebeetht," chuckled Opp, curling his lips to prevent him from laughing his lungs out. "GP is blessed." He does his signature naughty wink.

"Going back," said Jeff, moving the mood back to serious. "For a thousand, how long have you been in this alter thing?"

"When I thtopped thchool. I almoth graduated that time but it didn't go to where I wanted to." Opp momentarily stands to get his bag. He returns to where he was seated right after.

"And the million-Baht question, Opp - why?"

"I wath in my thenior year that time. I wath working on my thethith, which wath the only requirement I needed to complete to graduate. My other thubjectth were already in the bag."

"So I take it that you were an ace student, right?"

"Yeah," replied Opp, spraying his cologne. "I wath a full thcholar throughout. One night while I wath at home and working on the thythem for my thethith, a couple of copth went to our houthe. They told uth that dad met an akthident; he wath run over while on hith way home in his bithycle; he died on the thpot."

"I'm sorry. You may stop if you want," said Jeff, offering an alternative – just in case.

"No, I'm cool. Thith helpth me to adapt – to become thtrong. Thomething that doethn't kill you thimply maketh you tougher."

"Okay, but again, you can stop if you feel uncomfortable. I won't mind."

Opp nods, showing no remote sign of breaking the momentum of his storytelling. "Right after dad'th burial, mom had a heart attack: tthe couldn't take what happened."

Taken aback with the series of unfortunate events, Jeff looks down on his bed as if to pay his respect to Opp's parents. "That must have been hard on you," he said, looking back at his guest.

"Thowth were dark timeth, Jeff – dark timeth. I had to thtop thchool to look after mom in the hothpital. In the end, however, thhe never recovered and left me. Our family'th thavingth juth went to her medical ekthpentheth. Good thing ith they left me our houthe."

"What happened to you after that?"

"It felt very heavy; I nearly gave up; I never got back to thchool."

"So you never finished your degree?"

"Yup. I became a freelanthe programmer from that point on, developing thythtemth for studentth."

"Why not get a full-time job?"

"I have no diploma, remember? Thomething that an employer requireth."

"That stigma should stop now. Just because you don't have a piece of parchment with elegant handwriting doesn't mean that you know nothing of the job you are applying for."

"Agree. At firtht, I had a lot of offerth, but then it thteadily declined until I end up having no more clientth."

"It's not a regular job. It's one of the downsides of being a freelance," said Jeff, shrugging.

"From there, I had to tap to my perthonal thavingth to thurvive. It nearly depleted dry, but then a friend introduthed me to the alter world."

"A friend from school?"

"No. We grew up together here in Thonglor. Hith name ith Firtht Piyangkul Thaohin. Unlike me, he hath a degree – Communication Artth – and hath a thtable job now."

"Do you still talk with each other? Why is he still an alter if he has a stable job?"

"We talk from time to time. He ith jutht in it for the fun – no thex involved; he doethn't do it for the money either. I, on the other hand, go in all out. Nothing ith in between, however – only to let out thome thtored body heat. Like I thaid earlier, all of it ith falthe – fictitiouth – and if I to borrow your term – make-believe."

"So what is involved in this 'for fun' if there is no sex?"

"Mothtly thmooching, cuddling either with clotheth on and not, company when having a drinking or binge eating, a blow, rimming, thomething of thowth kindth."

"Jeez," said Jeff, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed.

"Am I polluting your clean waterth, Jeff."

"Not really. What you're saying is just new to my ears – that's all." Jeff opens his eyes and puts his hands down. "Going back. How are you now? Can you provide for yourself regularly?"

"Honethly, yeah. When I have thaved enough, I will go back to thchool."

"I hope you are practicing safe sex, Opp." For the first time too, Jeff shows concern.

"I am: I never do it bare. Pluth, I have thethe pillth that I take regularly, and I undergo tethtth regularly too."

"That's good to know. What does it do – that pill you are saying?"

"We alterth called Pre-Ekthpothure Prophylakthith – PrEP for short. It ith highly effective in preventing HIV if taken as prethcribed."

"Is it an OTC drug?"

"You need a doctor'th authorithation and prethcripthion to get it."

"How about Nut – the owner of Sky Bar? How does he know your cellular number?"

"If I have no clients, I uthually thtay there to look for a gig." Opp draws imaginary quotation marks as he says the last word, implying another meaning. "I gave Nut my number to give to prothpetive takerth – thowth interethted in a little hanky-panky."

"Is there a chance that you will swerve to where the light is?" Jeff sounds stern in his question because he knows that Opp has a potential to become a successful professional.

"When I'm done with my degree, I will. Money ith altho the reathon why I took thith job for Top."

"You mean developing Scylla and Charybdis?"

"Yeth."

"Why? What did Sutthirak promise you in return?"

"One million Baht – more than enough to cover my thchool ekthpentheth and my surgery."

"Sorry? You need a surgery?"

"Yeah. I have a lithping thpeech dithorder."

"Lithpi..." Jeff tries to decipher the correct term from Opp's cryptic statement. "Ahhh. Lisping Speech Disorder?"

"Yeth. That one."

"Maybe that is the reason why your S sounds like TH. I've been noticing that since last night. How did you get it?"

"It'th mechanical – in-born: my tongue ith thtuck to my lower palette becauthe of a tiththue that did not theparate completely even after I wath born. Top, however, did not thtay true to hith word."

"I think he has done that to many people."

"That thtupid idiot only gave me ten grand ath initial payment. He thaid that he will give the remainder when Thilla and Charybdith are up and running live."

"But you haven't been given the rest until now, am I right?"

"Not a dime; he sthtill hath a debt of nine-hundred-and-ninety grand."

"I see. He is really a bad penny, though I wonder how did you know him – Sutthirak? Were you a former employee at Le Cargaison?"

"He hired me before. He wath a louthy top – doethn't know how to work it."

"Is that a compliment for me?" Jeff's subtle smile and chuckle are incontrovertible. The praises he had been getting – bed-wise – from Opp seem to be tickling his funny bone.

"Like I thaid, Jeff, you did great latht night. How ith that for an anthwer?"

"Fair enough." Jeff flashes his pearly whites along with a smile – two separate things working in unison to show how handsome he is. "Don't worry. You'll get your money one way or another – that, I am sure," he continued, giving Opp a pat on a shoulder.

"I really hope you have a tongue of an angel, Jeff. I never liked being an alter; I want to leave thith firtht chanth I get; I want to have a life I can be proud of."

"In the proper time, all will fall into place. You are being prepared for the best, Opp; you just need to have hope and cling to it."

"How can I cling to something that is eathily destroyed? Every time I do, the rope I am holding to thnapth, and I plummet back to where I wath."

"Hope may be fragile, but it is something hard to dent. You just have to be strong: the stronger you are, the sturdier your rope becomes."

"I withh I have your optimithm, Jeff."

"Like you, I am also holding on to hope – the hope that I can clear my name to GP, get him back, and start a life with him."

"I wath the one who cauthed you two to break up, Jeff. I hope you forgive me," apologized Opp, catching Jeff's hand it on his shoulder, suddenly feeling the guilt of what he has done from more than a year ago and the other night.

Not answering, Jeff takes Opp's hand in a shake, letting the gesture give the response.

However, Opp feels a bundle of papers in his palm. "What...," he said, taking his hand back and turning it askew to see.

"It's six grand – payment plus tip," said Jeff to clear the other's confusion.

"No, I can't," replied Opp, extending his hand back – palm open – to return the money to Jeff. "After I ruined your life – you and GP – I can't take your money."

"Take it." Jeff closes Opp's hand using both his own and pushes it back lightly until it touches his chest. "It's my share for your schooling and your surgery."

"You really are one of a kind, Mithter Thathur."

"Will you be going now? It's already thirty minutes past ten."

"Yeah I am. Thankth again for everything." It is Opp's turn this time: he takes one of Jeff's hand using his own, and without any malice or eroticism, encloses it in a two-handed shake.

"I'd like to ask one last thing – Scylla and Charybdis. How can I make them work my way?" Jeff takes his hand back, which he does with ease as Opp did not offer any resistance.

"What do you do if you mutht get inthide a fotrethth that ith heavily defended from the outthide?"

"Challenge the defense: try and burst through."

"You dithappoint me, Jeff. I thought thomeone of your caliber will thuggetht a more practical approach," replied Opp, shaking his head in dismay.

"What should I do then?"

"You go around the defenth not through it. I've dealt you the cardth you need. It'th up to you now how you will play them," replied Opp, giving friendly taps on Jeff's shoulder.

"How?"

"Go figure, Jeff. You and I thpeak the thame language – our grammar are codeth, logic, condithion, variableth, functhion, thenarioth, probabilitieth. You'll thort thith out in no time."

"I'll try."

"Do it. Don't try it, and don't bother calling me if you have quethtionth. I won't give you anything."

"That's inspiring," said Jeff in sarcasm, shaking off Opp's hand from his shoulder.

"On a more seriouth note, Jeff, good luck with what you are planning about Top'th money and in your try – whatever you have in mind – to get GP back."

"Thank you. I need that."

"You theem like a cute couple. I would want to meet you both onthe you're together again."

Why? So you can tell him what we did?" asked Jeff, with a slight chuckle.

"Not really. I jutht want to meet the guy who you will go through all the perilth for." Opp beams his real smile over Jeff to indicate he has nothing ugly in mind. "And don't worry, Jeff. Whatever happened latht night, it'll be our little thecret."

"It better be." Jeff's poker face is enough sign that he should be taken seriously.

"It will be," assured Opp, nodding curtly to seal their deal. "And to repay the kindnethth you thowed me, there ith thomething that you thhould know."

"What is it?"

"What happened to uth more than a year ago, it wath no akthident."

"The scandal? What do you mean?"

"Ask the man you uthed towork for. He can tell it better than I can." Opp pouts again, pretending togive Jeff a goodbye kiss.

------

Author's Note

I must say, Opp is one guy made of steel: despite all he has been through, he is still there - standing tall and never giving up the fight. A big salute to him.  Although, what he said kinda triggers curiosity. What did he mean on those last things told Jeff before he left. Hmmmm...Interesting.

Another thing, now that Jeff knows what he is dealing with, how will he execute his plan? He should be very careful on this because Opp was right: he is up against something as formidable as a fortress. What do you think he would do? ;)

Stay tuned for release of the next chapter - Contaminant - soon.

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