Alpha's Revelation

Chapter 1

Fifteen Years Later…

As I got off the bus, just down the street from my apartment, an icy breeze wraps around me, welcoming me into the chilly autumn night. I take in a breath, and let myself become engulfed by the cold air. The bus pulls away, and I walk the short distance to the building my apartment is in. Opening the lobby door, I recognize the familiar scent of concrete and paint. The building is relatively new, and in the Mariners Bay area. Apartments here are a new era. Taylor, my best friend, received this apartment as a graduation gift from her parents. She decided she wanted to stay and work in Mariners Bay instead of moving back to Greenwoods, where we lived initially. They gave her a new tenth-floor, sea-facing apartment to make her life bearable. After eleven years of being roommates, she said she would not be ditching me that easily. So I became her housemate and help contribute to her bills and apartment expenses, which works out well for both of us.

Walking up to the lift, I think about how lucky I am to have an awesome friend like Taylor. Without her, my life in Mariners Bay would have been worthless. Even though she knows what type of life I came from, she’s helped me forget the sorrow of staying away from my Mumma. Taylor has helped me make new friends and given me some amazing fashion tips. At this point, Taylor is not only my roommate; she’s my sister. Her parents are fantastic as well. Super humble, even though they have money. Every time they ask about my life, Taylor is swift to change the topic, making them forget all about it. Even though Taylor herself knows, she didn’t think it’s a good idea if other people were to find out. She’s always told me, “Rosy, what happened back in Greenwood is no one’s business. You just focus on the present”, and she is right.

The lift pings, and the doors open. I am so deep in thought that I’ve forgotten I am already on my floor. As I walk towards my apartment, I notice the front door opposite ours is open. It looks like someone is finally moving in. I open my apartment door and walk inside. The sound of a Frank Sinatra song comes rolling down the hallway into the lounge. Taylor is home, and she’s either painting, or cleaning.

“Tay Tay, I’m home,” I yell out.

“Rosy posey, hiiiii! Be out in a sec,” she yells back.

Savaging through the fridge, I pull out the fried rice from last night’s dinner. I am starving since I haven’t eaten all day. The entire day was full of back-to-back meetings to finalize projects and reports before our CEO returns on Monday.

I sit on the bar stool with my now heated meal and a juice box. Taylor comes out of her room in a pair of overalls covered in paint. She is an interior designer by profession, but loves to paint. Both things work in her favor. Taylor tries to argue with me about dropping my profession and taking up my hobby. Unlike her, my sales and marketing manager profession has nothing in common with my baking hobby. I get paid a decent amount for getting work done and bringing sales up. I have a staff that does about fifty percent of the work for me. Taking up baking as a profession will mean working for myself. I’ll be managing, operating, and delivering all by myself - not happening.

“Wow, Rosy, that smells good. Can I have some?” She asks.

“No, you may not because you said last night you didn’t like the fried rice. Plus, you’ve been home all day. So let the starving child eat, will you?” I scold back.

She makes a face and turns to the fridge.

“We have a new neighbor,” I say in between my bites.

“Really?! It took them long enough to find someone that could afford the place.”

“Not everyone in Mariners Bay is rich like your parents to afford that apartment,” I snicker back.

She turns toward me and sticks her tongue out. I laugh and return to my eating.

Taylor grabs a granola bar and sits next to me. She smells of paint and lavender.

“So, how was your day?” She asks.

“Chaos! I’m drowning in sales reports, and Mr. Brady threw a massive tantrum because we have data missing from six years ago. So I’m like, dude, I’ve only been here five years; what do you want me to do?”

“The old fart needs to get laid. Why is the company so worried about data from six years ago?” Taylor asks.

Her interest in my work is the most incredible part about Taylor. She never really understands much of it, but she never lets me feel like she doesn’t care. We can have chats about our jobs as if we work together.

“f**k knows. I’m just glad it’s the weekend and I don’t have to see his old ass till Monday.” I say while rolling my eyes.

It isn’t long into our chat before there is a knock on the door.

“Huh, wonder who that can be? Are you expecting someone?” Taylor asks while getting up and walking toward the door.

I can’t see who is standing there when she opens it, but I can hear whoever it is clearly.

“Hi. Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just moved into that apartment opposite yours. You wouldn’t have a spare bucket, would you? We’ve opened up the place, and there’s a leak in the bathroom. I’m afraid the apartment might flood if I pop out to buy a bucket.”

His voice echoes through our apartment. I bend my neck to see the face that voice belongs to. I almost fall off the stool I’m leaning so far over.

I hear Taylor introducing herself and inviting him in while she checks for a bucket. He declines the invitation, saying maybe another time, and perhaps she can bring the bucket over to him if she finds one.

I hear him leave, and Taylor closes the door.

“Oh, my god! He is so hot. Ugh!”

“Keep your panties on and go look for a bucket,” I cut her off.

Her look of realization hits, and she goes off jogging toward our laundry.

“Yay!!!!” I hear her scream. Which means she found a bucket.

She actually comes running out with two instead of one and heads for the main door. Before she can open it, her phone goes off with the ring tone she has allocated for her dad.

“Ugh, Dad, not right now,” she groans, answering her phone. “Yeah, Daddy, what’s up?”. Her annoyed expression slowly changes and is replaced by a frown. She puts the buckets on the floor and walks toward me, listening to whatever her dad saying.

As she gets closer, tears form in her eyes, and she sinks back onto the stool next to me.

“Taylor, what happened???”

“Daddy, I’ll see you soon. Bye”. That’s all she says, then hangs up.

“Taylor, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Grace is in the hospital. They don’t think she will make it,” she says, pulling me into a tight hug.