𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐓𝐖𝐎

FIVE YEARS LATER

The apartment was hardly worthy of the word. It contained two rooms, one of which was the small bathroom. The larger room had a kitchenette in one corner and a mattress with a pile of blankets in the other, and the space between was empty.

Alena curled herself up on her desk chair, wrapping a blanket around her knees and adjusting the antenna on her internet rooter.

"No, that's not what I asked for," she stressed. "Is there any way you can do Friday, even if it's a later slot?"

Pause.

"Alright. Send over the schedule as soon as it's done. You have my email."

Upon receiving a curt reply, Alena thumbed the red button, dropped her phone onto her planner and stood. Grabbing her bag, she made her way to the bathroom. Her uniform hung from the shower curtain rail, the waistband of the trousers still a little damp. She tucked them into her bag, along with her purse, makeup bag, and hairbrush.

When she hurried over to shut down her laptop, Alena saw that a new email had come through. Checking her watch, she sat back down and opened up the email.

From: mmkinney@gmail.com

To: alenawarbeckagent@outlook.com

Subject: No Subject

Dear Ms Warbeck

I won't lie to you your my last resort. Thats probably not what you want to hear. Definitely not the best pitch to make you want to take me on. But at this point I figured I dont have anything left to lose. I found your website on the Google and you don't have many clients, so just like that Swedish band says I think you should take a chance on me!

Let me know if you're at all moved by this pathetic plea.

Merritt McKinney

p.s. Im pretty drunk right now so may send you an apology when Im sober.

Having little time to consider this application, and being hardly able to afford to turn down a potential source of income, Alena typed a quick reply.

From: alenawarbeckagent@outlook.com

To: mmkinney@gmail.com

Subject: No Subject

Dear Mr McKinney,

Please attach a fully up-to-date CV to this email thread and I would be happy to consider your application.

Sincerely,

A. Warbeck

And by the time Alena had shut down her laptop, turned off the lights and locked the apartment, she had forgotten all about the drunken email and Merritt McKinney.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

At the end of the month, after reviewing Merritt's previous activity, which was far more extensive than any of her other clients, Alena accepted. He sent her a very grateful reply - along with a humbled and, quite frankly, excessive apology - and she immediately set to work.

Alena contacted the publishing company that had first published Merritt's book, but they weren't interested in reprinting it. She called around a few smaller American publishing houses and eventually found one that offered a very reasonable deal on a reprint. She didn't think it would be a difficult task to transfer the rights to print from one house to the other, so the new edition was pretty much guaranteed. Although they had previously only communicated over text and email, Alena called Merritt to deliver this news.

"Miss Warbeck, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I have some good news. A publishing company had expressed interest in reprinting your book." If the community upbringing had taught her anything, it was how to twist someone's words to make them say what you wanted. "This will give you some opportunities to promote and if you'd like to add anything to the current copy, I'm sure that would generate interest."

Merritt was quiet for a moment, then a scoff of distinct disbelief rattled down the line. "That's kind of amazing. How did you manage that?"

"It's my job," Alena frowned.

"How long have you been an agent for?"

"Err...almost three years, I think."

"You must be doing pretty well for yourself, if you work this fast."

Alena sniggered. "You wouldn't say that if you could see the state of my flat."

"You aren't local, are you?" Merritt stated more than asked. "Your accent..."

"I'm from East Sussex."

"What state's that in?"

"England."

"Oh," Merritt said. "Is it nice there?"

"I don't know. I live in London. And it's a shithole."

"Then, why don't you just leave?"

It wasn't as if Alena hadn't thought of that before. She couldn't remember a time when she wouldn't have given everything to jump on a boat or a plane and leave England behind. But she had convinced herself that that was just a pipe dream. And unless she was found by some great stroke of luck, it would remain so.

But, though Alena lacked many things, intelligence wasn't one of them. She'd kept most of the remaining money she'd taken from the community in a slit in whichever mattress she slept on. Anything she didn't need for rent, bills, and the bare minimum food her body could survive on, she was saving for a rainy day.

So, as the raindrops beat against the windows, Alena pushed aside what remained of her guilty conscience. She had risked enough to acquire the money and papers for a new life; at some point, she had to start living it.

"Miss Warbeck? Alena, are you still there?"

"Yes," Alena answered quickly. "I'll, er...contact you with any developments. Please let me know as soon as possible if you want to write anything more for the book, and I'll look over it."

Hanging up, Alena let out a heavy sigh. She didn't know why, but she found herself flipping through the pages of her planner to find Merritt's address. He was currently residing in the city of New Orleans.

Alena didn't even bother reading up on it. She was getting out of London and that was that.