The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,9

put everything in a bowl and pushed the button of the microwave. The lights dimmed, and then a crack sounded above his head as the bulb blew out and everything in the apartment went silent.

Uh-oh. Shit.

He wondered if he’d screwed up the whole building or if each apartment had its own circuit box. “I knew I should’ve listened to my father when he tried to teach me about electrical stuff.”

So he did what any normal person would do when confronted with a problem. He opened the browser on his laptop, googled “how to fix blown lights in apartment,” and peered at the screen. “Looks like I blew a fuse.” Hmm. He read further. “ ‘Find the circuit box for your unit, and flip back the switches. Many are in basements, utility rooms, or laundry rooms, but it all depends on the building.’ ”

That might be a problem. Where the hell was the circuit box? And once he found it, how would he know what to do?

Well, his father had always said it was a good day when you learned something new. He circled his apartment, and finding nothing remotely resembling a circuit box, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He stuck his feet into the flip-flops by the door and stepped out of his apartment, gazing up and down the hall. No one else had come out of their apartment, so it must have only affected his. Hopefully.

“If I were a circuit box, where would I be?” Morgan circled his hallway, inspecting the walls with no success, then descended the stairs, repeating his search as he descended. Water stains, cracked paint, and overall dirt greeted his examination, but nothing looked like a circuit box anywhere. Each floor looked the same, and Morgan stood on the first floor, deciding whether he should knock on the super’s door and confess what happened or try to fix it himself.

He’d only ventured to the basement to throw out his trash and once to do his laundry, but it was not a well-lit place even in the middle of the day. Morgan had thrown his clothes in the washer quickly and run out as fast as he could. He really should let the super handle it, but after the supermarket incident, he had even less desire than before to speak to Leo DeLuca. The man must already think him pathetic after he’d turned tail and run.

“Get a backbone,” he muttered to himself as he took the stairs to the basement. Facing several doors, he tried the handles, but they were all locked. He entered the laundry room, and once inside the large space, he flipped on the switch. The overhead light flickered on, casting a dim glow over the room. Glancing upward, he grimaced, noticing that two out of the four bars of bulbs inside the long, oblong light fixture had blown since he’d been there to do his laundry. He made a mental note to find a place he could send his laundry out to because this room gave him the creeps.

“Someone needs to maintain this place better.”

The washers and dryers sat at the far end by the industrial-sized sink. Morgan turned on his phone’s flashlight, shining it in front of him. Rows of shelves lined the rough cement walls, and paint cans were stacked against the side, along with folded ladders and other equipment. He wandered around the room, and at the opposite end from the machines, spied a metal box sticking out of the wall.

Pretty certain he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, he weighed his options and decided to take the risk. After all, almost all the websites stated the circuit box would have the apartment numbers listed next to their respective circuit breaker. All he needed to do was find 5C, flip the switches, and he’d have his electricity on again. Easy-peasy.

Except that was the moment the light on his phone started fading, and he watched in horror as it died out, leaving him in the gloomy dusk. With a sinking feeling, he recalled that he hadn’t charged it the night before.

“Shit,” he groaned in disgust and shoved the now useless phone into his shorts pocket. The light barely reached this corner of the room, and he felt for the latch to open the box. When it swung open, he squinted at the tiny lettering and the rows and rows of switches facing him. He blew out an exasperated breath. “What the fuck am I supposed