A Promise Of Romance (MewGulf AU)

🌞Chapter 7🌻

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Gulf had no idea what to do with the ring Brenda had entrusted to him.

There was a huge, transparent blue stone set into it. The setting was silver of amazingly fine workmanship. Gulf knew almost nothing about jewels, but even he could appreciate how expensive the ring must have been.

He felt that if he were to wear it while walking around outside, someone would steal his entire finger to get it. He couldn't leave it in his room either, for fear of robbers. For the last three days, he had worn the chain in his belt loops and kept the ring in his pocket. He felt most secure when it was with him. Even so, he was worried. He had rashly agreed to return the ring to its owner, but it was a daunting task.

'Maybe I should go give it back to Brenda.'

He was afraid of seeing the woman who lived with Brenda again, but he couldn't keep the ring forever. So he decided to go over after work.

Gulf was washing the dishes behind the bar as he always did when the door opened and a customer came in. He looked up, hoping that it might be Brenda. Lately, he had gotten into the habit of checking every time a customer came in.

It wasn't Brenda---just two men. But Gulf couldn't stop staring at one of them.

He saw the smooth face, white and sculpted like marble. That, and his slender height, made the man look like a movie star who had just stepped through the screen. He was wrapped in a tailored long coat of supple fabric whose expensive price range was obvious at first sight. He was unmistakably unlike the rest of the customers.

Since coming to London, Gulf had realized that there were hardly any of the stylish foreigners walking around the streets that he had seen in magazines and on TV. The Europeans in the media were different.

'Maybe he's a model. Or maybe...?'

Gulf ran through all the British actors he knew in his mind, but none of them matched.

The man took off his coat. Beneath it, he was wearing a silk shirt that faintly reflected the dim light. He approached the bar and ordered a straight scotch. Most customers ordered ale, a British style of beer. Scotch was unusual, and a straight scotch even more so. He emptied the shot glass in a single swallow, as if he was drinking water, and casually ordered another.

Gulf stared at him in amazement. His rough drinking style didn't fit with the fashionable way he was dressed. He knocked back the second glass like it was water too.

Suddenly, the man's eyes met Gulf. Startled, Gulf froze in the middle of washing a dish.

He gave Gulf a friendly smile. Maybe he realized that Gulf had been staring at him.

Gulf felt his pulse quicken with embarrassment.

Ignoring his discomfort, the man waved Gulf over.

"Yes, sir?" Gulf asked timidly.

"I believe a woman named Brenda comes to this pub regularly," the man said. "Do you know her?"

Gulf marveled at the beautifully accented English the man spoke.

British people speak differently depending on their social class. When English people speak to each other, they can tell in five minutes what a person's class is and where they were from. Gulf lived and worked in working-class areas, and his school was full of middle-class students who weren't particularly wealthy. This man was unlike anyone else Gulf had encountered.

Gulf had never met a member of the upper class. In this country where the class system still thrived, everyone knew their place and rarely invaded the territory of the other classes. But then, if the man was part of the upper class, he wouldn't have come to a place like this.

"Brenda's been sick. She hasn't been by lately." Gulf answered honestly.

"I hope she comes back," the man's chestnut-haired companion said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Me too," the man nodded then turned back to Gulf. "Can you give Brenda a message for me?"

"Of course," Gulf promotly replied.

"I'm trying to locate a ring and would like to get in touch with her," the man said.

He took a silver business card holder from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed one to Gulf, along with a tip. Then, finishing the rest of the scotch in his glass, he stood up to go. Each move he made looked as if it had come straight from a movie. The impression he gave was unlike that of other people.

'God gave it to me.'

Gulf recalled the story Brenda had told him.

'He was so beautiful, dark black smooth hair, almond-shape big eyes, it was like waking from a nightmare. He was God.'

Was this man the 'God' from Brenda's story?

He looked at the business card. The title 'Lord' appeared before the man's name indicating his noble status. Gulf had no idea how Brenda knew a nobleman, but that wasn't going to stop him from telling her that her 'God' had come looking for her. Besides, the tip the man given him was far too large for simply passing on a message.

TBC