Revelation (Redemption of the Underworld)

by S. A. Gibbs

  I thanked her for the soup, and she scanned the apartment with a smile on her face. Luckily, I’d spent the weekend doing chores, and the place looked respectable.

  “Now, eat that soup and hop into bed. An early night never harmed anyone.”

  I smiled. “I will, Mrs. Evans, and thank you again for the soup.”

  “My pleasure, dear.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  The soup smelled good but I wasn’t hungry. After putting it in the refrigerator, I headed to my bedroom, took off my boots, and flopped on the bed. How had my life gone from fantastic to crap in just one day?

  I crawled beneath the covers, pulling them up over my head.

  And then I remembered my rent was due this Friday.

  BRIGHT SUNLIGHT WOKE me the next morning. A small reprieve from the iciness of winter. Was it an omen that things were going to get better? Amberleigh Shade, I chided myself. Get your arse out of bed and look for a job. Kicking back the covers, I lay there for a moment. Sometime during the night, I’d taken off my work pants but had slept in the top.

  Swinging my legs over and sitting on the side of the bed, I yanked it off. I pulled open the middle drawer of my bedside chest. Pajamas it was. Why not? I didn’t have to go to work. Then I thought of Jed. Not turning up with his usual coffee and sandwich, he’d assume I was sick. And it wasn’t as if I could ring him. He didn’t have a phone.

  Slipping on my comfiest set of mismatched flannel pj’s and a pair of warm woolen socks, I plodded to the kitchen to prep the coffeemaker.

  While I waited, I powered up my laptop. Where to begin? I did a quick search and found several job sites. Adding keywords, I managed to narrow the list to two openings in my field. I wasn’t qualified for the first advertised position, but the second seemed as if I had a chance, and the closing date was in two days.

  After pouring a coffee, I searched for my old resumé. Yes! It was still there. Spending some time updating it to make it look more professional, I double-checked my details.

  I’d been lucky to snag the job at Camden & Sons with so little experience, and I hesitated after filling out the application.

  Damn it! What did I have to lose? I hit the “Submit” button. Breathing a sigh of relief, I returned to my original search page, and finding a few other vacancies, I applied for them too.

  I had made a start, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I had three days to come up with the rent and no fast way of finding it.

  Chapter 4

  Amberleigh

  Each day seemed more unbearable than the last. My wrist continued to ache, and waiting for the phone to ring nearly killed me.

  Friday morning was no exception. My rent was due in the afternoon, and I hadn’t received a call for an interview, but I still had hope. Why was it so hard to find a job? I stared at the phone, wishing it to ring.

  What else could I do? I needed the money today. When I first moved into my apartment, I’d bought most of my furniture from a second-hand store—nothing there to pawn and make quick money. Even my refrigerator was dented, freezing anything left in it for more than a day. My six-year-old laptop. Worth nothing. I stared at my phone. I couldn’t hock it. What if that call came? The one that would pull me out of this mess. Looking around my apartment, there was nothing I could sell for any reasonable amount of cash.

  I hated using the word, but fuck, what was I going to do?

  I hadn’t gone to see Jed all week. How could I face him? How could I tell him the slip of a girl who’d run away from the orphanage, the one he’d taken under his wing, the one who’d studied by candlelight under that godforsaken bridge night after night, the one he’d been so proud of, had failed?

  My fingers almost itched the same way they used to when I’d lived with Jed on the streets. I stretched them. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t return to being the pickpocket I’d been back then. Stealing to survive.

  But what if I did it just once. Just to get out of this mess. Just to get me enough money to appease Mrs. Evans. Maybe smooth things over until I could find a job.

  A loud knock on the front door startled me.

  I hurried over, slid back the chain, and opened the door to see Mrs. Evans’s cheery face.

  “Hello, dear.”

  I offered her a weak smile.

  “I didn’t see you go out this morning, so I thought I’d pop up and collect my bowl.”

  “Oh, yes. Sorry, I forgot to return it. Come in.” She followed me to the kitchen. I’d left it on the sink, meaning to give it back the next day, but it had slipped my mind. “Thank you.” I handed it to her. “The soup was lovely.”

  She took the bowl and sat at the counter. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Mrs. Evans?”

  She waved me away. “I’m just glad I can count on you, Amberleigh.”

  I frowned. I’d never seen her upset. Happy, yes. Annoyed, yes, but never like this. “Do you want to talk about it?” I didn’t know what else to say.

  She stared at the bowl, toying with its rim. A tear trickled down her cheek and landed on her blouse, the drop darkening the light blue material. “His lordship up there can’t pay his rent again. That’s two months running. I’ll have to evict him. I’ve bills to pay.”

  I moved to her side and rubbed her arm. Shit! What was I going to do?

  MY PHONE BEEPED. IT was Tracey. She could lend me two hundred bucks. At least I could give Mrs. Evans something. I quickly put up my hair and then shoved on a woolen beanie. Grabbing my coat, I headed out. It was four forty. I’d arrive just as Tracey finished work.

  Walking briskly, I passed La Belle Café. It started to drizzle. Damn. I didn’t bring my umbrella. Staying out of the rain wherever I could, I hurried to meet Tracey. Approaching Jed’s empty spot near the alley, I glanced down the lane. I couldn’t face him right now. Besides, I didn’t have time. Jasper was collecting Tracey from work. They were zipping away for the weekend, and I didn’t want to delay them.

  Tracey was waiting out of the rain by the front doors of Camden & Sons. A trickle of dread wormed its way through my stomach, making me feel sick at the sight of my old workplace. I climbed up the steps, and she threw her arms around me, the newspaper in her hand whacking me in the back. “Oh, you’re soaked, and I don’t even have an umbrella to lend you.”

  I smiled. “I’m fine.” My wet face was freezing.

  She slipped the money into my hand. “I’m sorry it’s not more.”

  I kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  She hugged me again, and a yellow beat-up sedan pulled onto the opposite side of the street, amid a blaring of horns. Jasper wound down his window and waved from the driver’s seat, and Tracey waved back.

  “Have a great time, hon, and thanks again.”

  She shoved her paper in my hands. “Stay dry. I’ll call you when I get back.”

  Tracey almost skipped across the road, navigating the traffic. I waved as they drove off. Slipping the money inside my wallet-style phone case, I shoved it back in my coat pocket. Two hundred wasn’t enough to even cover one week’s rent. I sighed. At least the paper might deflect some of the rain.

  Just as I stepped from under the building’s awning, it began to pour. Great. Just what I needed. The pace of pedestrians quickened, the weather encouraging them to hurry home. I dodged puddles on the sidewalk in an effort to keep my jeans dry. I must have looked a sight with the newspaper over my head to ward off the rain. And then it occurred to me. Everyone on the street was preoccupied. All I needed was the right target. My icy fingers were numb. I ducked under the arched awning of a building on the corner of the crossroad. Shoving the soggy paper under my arm, I clenched and flexed my fingers to get the blood flowing.

  I’d do it just this once. Just to get me out of this mess.

  I COULDN’T LOOK AT anyone’s face as they hurried down the sidewalk, or I’d probably change my mind. Black, red, blue, brown. Heels, boots, flats, slacks, tights, skirts, and jean
s—all of them came to an abrupt halt and queued at the curb. I glanced at them, but I was looking for something else. The one thing which would make the job easier.

  An unbuttoned coat.

  My stomach whirled with uncertainty. Picking someone’s pocket was no easy feat. I had been good in my prime, but were my fingers still nimble enough? I flexed them. That old familiar itch zinged through my veins. The anticipation of the pinch.

  I glanced across the road, and his black Bolano leather shoes stepped up to the curb. Their shiny waxy polish repelled the rain. He wore a tailored business suit beneath an unbuttoned woolen trench coat. He was ripe for the picking. The tilt of his umbrella hid his face. I was glad. I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

  The rush of adrenaline made my heart quicken. I hadn’t felt it surge through my body in almost seven years. It heightened my awareness of him. With my sopping newspaper in hand, I joined the crowd, wheedling my way into position to wait for the “do not walk” signal to flash green.

  The slow beep of the crossing signal pinged, changing to a continuous buzz, and I surged forward, along with everyone else. The click of heels and the honk of a horn along the main road quickened my pace. The crowd around me parted, and I walked straight into him. My fingers still felt nimble. Slipping my hand beneath his suit jacket, I lifted his wallet with two fingers.

  He grabbed hold of me. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Mr. Dreamy smelled warm, clean, and fresh, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. I looked up, sliding his wallet behind my soggy newspaper. My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut. Shit!

  He smiled back at me.

  “I’m...I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Yeah, right. I knew exactly what I was doing.

  My head whipped around when a car horn blared. The lights had changed, and he let me go.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, rushing away from him, clutching the paper to my chest. My heels clacked on the sidewalk as I hurriedly ducked down a side road and stopped. Panting, my adrenaline pumping, I rested against the building. Shit! I’d done it. I’d picked someone’s pocket. Tossing the soggy newspaper away, I flicked open his wallet. Staring at his picture on the driver’s license reminded me of how good he’d smelled. His black hair was just as perfect as it was every Friday in the café. Even his five o’clock shadow made my insides tingle. Lucas Sands. 1271 Halifax Drive, Garden View.

  He lived in the upper end. A swanky area with elm-shaded streets. Each manicured home faultless even down to the perfectly cut lawn. It was where the high rollers of the city lived, the crème de le crème of the upper class, and his wallet was in my hands.

  I checked the cash compartment. There was more than enough to pay my rent. I stared at the bills, but now it just didn’t feel right to take someone else’s money. Folding it up, I shoved it in my pocket, the warmth of his body still lingering on the leather. Then I realized my other pocket was empty. I frantically checked my jeans, even though I knew I’d put my phone in my coat. Crap! I must’ve dropped it. He’s seen my face. He knew who I was. Wouldn’t he realize I’d picked his pocket when he found his wallet gone?

  I had to go back and look for it, but what if he was still there? He might have already discovered his wallet missing and be searching for it, or for me.

  I needed my phone. Walking back to the edge of the building, I peered around the corner. There was no sign of him. Good. An older woman in a red coat and hat, waiting by the bus stop, waved. Maybe she’d found my phone. I hurried toward her, and her bright smile gave me hope. “Did you lose your phone, dear?”

  I nodded.

  “Ah, lucky for you Mr. Sands found it.”

  I gasped. “Mr... Mr. Sands.”

  “Yes, dear. But he was in such a hurry to leave. Something about a dog. Anyway, he said you knew where he lived, and he’d be home all evening. Ah, here comes my bus.” She flashed me a smile as the bus whined, pulling up to the curb, the plastic-cladded doors clacking as they opened. She stopped on the step and looked back. “Luck must be on your side, dear.” She climbed up the steps, and I stumbled back. What the hell was I going to do?

  Mr. Dreamy had my phone, and he knew I had his wallet.

  Chapter 5

  Amberleigh

  The rain pelted down, and I raced for cover. I couldn’t go home. Mrs. Evans would be expecting the rent. Lucas’s wallet seemed heavier than it had before. That familiar feeling of regret tugged at my insides. How easy it had been to slip back into my old habits at the first sign of trouble. So now I was worse off than before.

  The downpour just wouldn’t let up. I sighed. It was ironic, really. I had enough money in my pocket to pay for my ride home and the rent, but I just couldn’t do it. I stepped out into the pouring rain and hurried up the street.

  By the time I reached the upper end and turned into Halifax Drive, the leafy main road into Garden View estate, my hair was plastered to my skull. My saturated woolen coat weighed me down, and I shivered as the dampness seeped through my clothes. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistook me for a drowned rat.

  The upper-class development wound up a hill face, providing the homeowners a peek-a-boo view of the city. I had only ever been here once before, and even back then, the houses had seemed almost too perfect—too perfect for someone like me. A thief who was coming to return the wallet I’d stolen from Lucas Sands. I sure as hell wouldn’t be in this predicament if I hadn’t dropped my phone.

  I stopped.

  I slid my hands into my coat’s deep pockets. They weren’t the type that opened on an angle— where if you weren’t careful, your phone could slide out—but ones you lifted a flap to access. I might have bumped into Lucas, but it hadn’t been enough to flip my pocket upside down.

  He’d picked my pocket while I was stealing his wallet.

  I couldn’t think of any other explanation. Now I was pondering the whole scenario. It hadn’t taken him too long to know his wallet was missing. Come to think of it, it was just downright weird. Was I now headed into a trap? Shit! I didn’t even have the option of dialing 911. My stomach swirled with unease. Should I turn around and hightail it out of here? I had his money. I could get a cab and just be done with the whole thing. Then again, he had all my personal details. I kept my ATM card and my ID in my wallet-style phone case. He could quite easily send the police to my door. That certainly wouldn’t go down well with Mrs. Evans. I really had no option. I had to get my phone back.

  With a new vigor in my step, I quickened my pace, in a hurry to get to his house.

  Ten minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of a two-story colonial with columns that rose all the way to the eaves on the second floor. A warm glow lit up one of the windows downstairs, and I slipped my hand through the wrought-iron bars on the gate and lifted the latch.

  It creaked as it swung inward, and my stomach churned. Unsure what I was about to face, I hesitantly walked up the cobbled path to the front door. Just get your phone, Amberleigh, I chided myself. Then it will be over.

  Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell. The rain pelted again, drowning out the echoing chimes pealing somewhere behind the door. Clenching my hands, I waited. What if he didn’t give back my phone? The door swung open and the thought vanished. Lucas stood in the entry, his charcoal long-sleeved top emphasizing his broad chest. He frowned.

  “You’re soaked. Come in.” He stepped back.

  My eyebrows shot up. Was he serious? I reached into my pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Could I please have my phone back?”

  “Sure, I’ll get it.” He walked off, leaving the front door wide open.

  What! Was that it? No accusations?

  The wallet suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. I stared at the welcome mat beneath my feet. A gust of rain slapped my back, and I flinched against the chill. The iciness trickled through my sodden hair and down my neck. Shivering, I wished I was anywhere but here.

  “Amberleigh?”

 
I looked up at the familiar voice. “Ryle?” The memory of his breath on my neck sparked a flurry of heat in my belly. He strode toward me, and my heart beat faster. I licked my lips. Oh my God! What would he think when he found out? I clutched the wallet, trying to hide it.

  “Come in out of the rain.” He held out his hand and I took it, stepping over the threshold.

  “Take off your coat. You’re sopping wet.” His hands began unfastening the buttons on my coat, and I turned away to hide the wallet as I took it off. For some strange reason, I felt safe in the warm cozy entrance of this house. The same kind of feeling you get from the smell of freshly baked bread or the comforting aroma of cinnamon at Christmastime. Warm, delectable, and homey. The coziness of the entrance thawed the chill in my cheeks. We stepped into a large living room, where a fire to the right roared in an open hearth.

  “I missed you at the café this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “Come, get warm by the fire. I’ll fetch you a towel.” With his hand gently on my back, he ushered me over to the fireplace, the crackling heat banishing the iciness from my saturated jeans. He returned with two towels and handed them to me. “Can I get you a hot drink?”

  “I’m not staying. I just came for my phone.”

  Ryle turned at the click of heels on the hardwood floor. Lucas walked in holding up my pink-and-white phone case. “You received a call earlier. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of answering it.”

  Please don’t say it was the call I’d been waiting for.

  “A Ms. Sarah Peterson, from Browning and Co, rang about your application.” He grinned. “We actually had a rather nice chat about you.”

  Oh my God! He hadn’t, had he? My eyes stung and I blinked back the tears. Breathing through my mouth, because my nose was running, only caused my throat to tighten. I clutched the towel to my chest. I couldn’t take anymore.

  A hand gently touched mine and I looked up. Lucas’s gold-flecked eyes stared back. “It’s all right, Amberleigh. I arranged an interview for you Monday.”