Redemption

By Greg Sparks

Which road does Celeste take? Is it too late for her?

Celeste McCallister loves adventure, but when her tantalizing life in Hollywood crumbles, she moves back home to Dallas. Embarrassed, she takes the only opportunity given to her, working for a medical company in their call center as a customer service representative. With her work ethic, she strives to provide the best possible customer service and moves up the ranks of her company. Influenced by her circumstances, day in and day out she’s forced to endure the unfiltered berating and anger of her callers. Soon, she faces burnout and begins betraying those who trust her. While pushing the limits of prudence, she grows fearless. An obsession she cannot stop.

The romantic in her, longs for a new unexpected undertaking and a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet; a man to hold her, provide much needed compassion, understand her, and love her with all of his heart. Love and a sense of belonging are missing from her life, though. Her passion for love is suppressed with each obstacle she faces, forcing the poisons of despair to surface. Feelings of hopelessness and gloom leave her heart in jeopardy.

Until, Kevin Abbott arrives in her world and transforms her universe. Her zeal for the man gives her new meaning to living. Her compressed feelings of unworthiness are now released and no longer experienced. For the first time in her life, she knows how to love unconditionally and to be loved. Kevin is more than her prince in shining armor; he is the man of her dreams, because he treats her like a woman. Within months of dating they become engaged. She is grateful for Kevin, who makes her life blissful and complete. Feeling compassionate for her customers, her treatment goes beyond the company’s expectations. The acts of kindness kindle a spark of goodness in her heart—one that frees her mind of heartache, trouble, and pain.

However, after Kevin’s death, her anger flares, becoming toxic and uncontrollable. Dealing with her internal self, the demons inside her generate danger in the lives of everyone she knows. Friends no longer respect or trust her. Co-workers can no longer tolerate her aggressive behavior towards their customers and themselves. Soon Celeste alienates even her only friend, leaving Celeste alone again. Unable to handle the loneliness, she lashes out at those trying to help. Her heart turns cold and unresponsive. Her emotional core cannot toggle between right and wrong. Anger and bitterness are her only friends. Aggression to others is her only companion. Vengeance and revenge are her medicines of choice.

Innocent lives are at stake. Her dismal life is in disorder. She yearns to punish those who abuse her. Feeling vulnerable and desiring to control her nightmare known as her life, and after much persuasion, she accepts help. The male counselor attempts to ease Celeste’s pain, but the anger and hate lingers. Perceiving distrust with the counselor, Celeste finds herself with the ultimate life choice—to kill or not to kill. Celeste’s adventures are far from over.

In this Christian thriller, Greg Sparks unfolds the human drama of a woman in search of happiness and weaves an intricate web of uncertainty throughout Redemption. To make her life free, Celeste seeks adventure but obtains it the wrong way. Longing for contentment again; she seeks anything other than God. Which road does Celeste take? Is it too late for her? Can she find hope? Can she find redemption?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Sparks
• Release date: Aug 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310246258

Greg Sparks

Greg Sparks lives in Central Texas. He enjoys reading and writing books. He gradutate from Texas A&M University-College Station with a degree in Recreation, Parks & Tourism Sciences. He is a member of Brazos Writers. He gets a kick out of his family. His family is debt-free and life is good.

Book preview

Chapter 1

FOR THREE DAYS, a plan formulated in Celeste’s mind. Adventure knocked.

No, I shouldn’t.

But it would be fun. Besides, what would it hurt?

Hurrying through her predictable Thursday evening Chinese meal of General Tsao’s chicken, fried rice, a spring roll, a large Coke and two fortune cookies, she was prepared. She needed to hurry.

The task had to be completed after dark for better cover. Grabbing the police report from her accident and her cell phone, she headed to the car. Within a minute, she had outlined her route to her destination, using the GPS feature in her phone, a real lifesaver in a big city like Dallas.

Tonight, Princess would be Celeste’s partner in crime. Celeste never imagined how a mutt from the animal shelter could bring her such happiness.

Red lights and stop signs slowed her down enough to keep her from breaking the law, but her anxiety rose with each second she waited. Yellow lights were a blur.

The plan had to be tonight. The longer she lingered on it the closer she came to backing out. The man was getting what he deserved.

Now, there was only one way to stop her mental agitation. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel.

It has to be tonight, people in his type of neighborhood would notice unfamiliar cars.

Two nights ago, she scoped out his house and did not want to be seen in his neighborhood again. Her anger blazed as his house approached, hoping he was home.

He had better be home.

She slowly drove past the house, scanning for signs of life, seeing nothing but his expensive car parked in the driveway.

Good, he’s home.

She passed his house and parked a few houses down. It had to be perfect. It had to be fast.

Why is this guy bothering me? I’ve never cared about the way customers treat me. I should let it go.

But Princess, you should have seen the face on the sales rep today. She was broken and in tears. I’m doing this for her, and I’m doing it for all customer service people who have to take his crap every day. She believed her own words, and felt they had validity.

Hooking Princess to her leash, she stepped out of the car and walked her dog slowly towards his house, eyeing it for any movement.

Just another lady walking her dog. Act normal.

Her heart raced, gooseflesh raised on her body, and sweat dripped down her face even in the cold still night air.

Don’t do it. The pulling of right and wrong within her mind began again. I’m doing it for all the people he has wronged.

Are you?

Yes.

Don’t do it.

But I must.

Don’t do it.

Poor little Princess was being dragged towards the house, and Celeste’s nerves were shattered.

Calm down. Get it together. You’re just a neighbor. Act like it.

Don’t do it.

I must for all of the people who have put up with his crap.

Celeste pivoted her head, on the lookout for movement down the street.

I’m scared.

At the house next to his, she took a deep breath and looked for any last signs of movement.

Good, all clear.

Stay, Princess. She gave the stay sign of holding her palm directly in front of the dog’s face. I’ll be right back, taking another deep breath. Here goes nothing.

The ice pick from her coat pocket appeared in the dim light. The driver’s side rear was first. A hissing sound emitted out of the damaged sidewall of the tire. The vandal jumped around to the passenger’s side rear tire and jammed the pick again. Then she moved to the front passenger’s side tire, and destroyed the expensive tire by stabbing it numerous times, making the three tires irreparable, leaving the front driver’s side tire full.

Maybe he would not notice the other three were bad, and he would attempt to drive away.

Do it.

She jammed the pick into the metal and dragged it the length of the car. A neighbor’s dog barked at the high pitch scraping metal sound.

Time to go.

Celeste scooped up Princess and tore off running for her car. The little dog screeched as Celeste shoved her in the passenger’s side seat. The old car sputtered several times before starting.

Looking in the rearview, Mr. Perkins followed after her in his underwear, stopped, raised his shotgun and fired. Fear permeated her, terror drowned her spirit, and darkness choked her hope and desires. Celeste raced down the street. The shotgun blast echoed down the street, barely peppering the back of her car. She sped away.

I told you. You shouldn’t have done it. Now you’re going to get it. The good voice liked to point out the obvious when the bad one did something wrong.

Her heart leapt out of her chest as she blew through a stop sign, faster and faster she drove. The stop light ahead turned red, and she slammed on the brakes, stopping in time, closer to the intersection than legally allowed. A police officer pulled up beside her, looked her direction, and shook his head. She flushed red with embarrassment.

Her fingers impatiently tapped the steering wheel as the seconds ticked by, waiting on the light to change. Finally, the light turned, and she moved forward and ahead of the police officer. He pulled behind her. Panic and fear caused her already white knuckle grip on the wheel to squeeze harder. Pain penetrated her fingers. Driving at the posted speed limit, she obeyed the laws. At the next stop light, he stopped behind her this time. When the light turned green, she checked for traffic and pulled out into the crossway. Picking up speed, her eyes reverted back to the rear view mirror. Without warning, panic swarmed her and guilt flooded her as the cop turned on his lights and sirens.

See I was right. You shouldn’t have done it.

But I did it for those of us who have been hurt by him.

Uh huh, and where has that gotten you?

Pulling over, she waited her judgment.

Why did I do that? What was I thinking?

Told you.

I know, I see that now. It was dumb, I admit.

Celeste hung her head in shame. The officer moved closer. Celeste’s misery surged. Then suddenly, he zoomed past her, not even looking her direction. She took a deep breath and then laughter filled the small car.

Whoa, what a rush. The high she encountered removed any worry or fear she faced. Ha, I told you, speaking to the voice in her head. Redemption. Yes! That was awesome.

I don’t think that means what you think it means.

Shut up for once. We got away with it.

The slow motion footage within her brain captured it over and over again.

Chapter 2

CELESTE DOWNED TWO cups of straight black coffee the next morning at work. Normally, she drank only one cup a day, laced with cream and sugar, making it a thick syrupy substance. But today was different. Today, her nerves stood on edge. The adrenaline from her high last night crashed down, hard.

She sat at her desk and glared out the window.

Did I really get away with it?

This time. Yeah, I did, you can’t deny it.

Are you sure? The voices in her head struggled back and forth all night. Shortness of breath and her pounding heart kept her from relaxing and concentrating on her job.

Celeste? Evelyn said, Celeste? Evelyn was a proud grandmother of four. Reading glasses hung around the lady’s neck by a small, silver chain. Evelyn and Celeste had worked together at EWS for seven years. The short black woman stood at the opening in Celeste’s cubicle. Celeste always admired her’; she was well read, intelligent, elegant, compassionate, and a great storyteller.

Celeste jumped at the sound of her friend’s voice, You startled me, Evelyn.

Sorry, you okay? Her voice was soft but strong.

Yeah, had a rough night last night. Didn’t sleep well. Celeste rubbed her eyes.

You look horrible, dear.

Thanks.

Why don’t you go to the restroom and splash water on that pretty face of yours? It’ll make you feel better. I promise. She patted Celeste’s shoulder.

Celeste obeyed. The cold water rejuvenated Celeste as she splashed herself. The mirror revealed large dark bags under her hazel eyes. She ran both hands through her natural shoulder-length chestnut colored hair. Celeste was not satisfied with the extra weight she had added this year, but had done nothing to lose it. Losing the thirty-two pounds, would take her back down to her ideal weight of 142.

The good voice in her head clearly told her she had done wrong last night. It told her to make restitution for her actions against the man. The bad voice reminded her she did it for all of the people the guy had hurt. The moral struggle chipped away at her spirit all day.

Make it right with the man.

But he deserved it.

You don’t take vengeance out on people. What, you a vigilante or something?

Her mind was in a daze as she walked back to her desk. Sirens outside the building heightened her fear. She shook uncontrollably.

See, you should have made it right. Now they are going to get you.

Shut up!

The sirens intensified as they closed-in on EWS. Celeste stood at her desk, lost. Her fears suffocated her resolve. Looking at the police through the window surround the building, her mind exploded with thoughts of her crime and going to prison. Wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, the crime played over and over within her aching head. The sirens grew louder and louder. Guilt impregnated her and emotions of regret and fright repressed her. She tried to control her emotions, but they bombarded her.

Ahhhhhhh, she screamed in her head. Pain rushed through her whole body as if ice cultivated in her veins. She froze, standing at her desk.

Police officers entered the call center. Jolted back into reality, she ducked behind her cubicle wall.

An exit. I need an exit.

They’re coming for you. I told you.

Let’s get out of here.

You can’t run, Celeste. Give yourself up.

Not yet.

Crawling under her desk, doom approached. The officers stopped at the operations center, where the entire call center is monitored, for confirmation of the desk they needed. The man at the operations center, which sat two feet above the rest of the call center, pointed in Celeste’s direction. The cops converged, approaching her desk.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. I’m such an idiot. Ugh, I didn’t get away with it. How could I be so dumb? Stupid, stupid. I’m such an idiot.

You should have made it right. Her pounding heart surged with every step the police took. She craved melting into oblivion, but that was not an option. All the exits were blocked—there was no escape. Closer they came. All of her co-workers stood in their cubicles watching the scene play out. Somebody was going to jail, and they wanted to know who. The police moved down her aisle. In a matter of seconds, they would have their suspect. She prepared to meet her doom while sweat transpired out of her body. She ducked her head in shame.

Excuse me. Celeste heard the male voice say. Excuse me, the voice more demanding. She slowly looked up. Mr. James Parker. Celeste was so absorbed in her own situation she did not notice her co-worker, James Parker in the cubicle beside her, attempting to hide, as well.

She looked surprisingly at the police, who surrounded James’s cubicle.

Mr. James Parker you are under arrest for armed robbery last night at the Zippie-Go convenient store, the muscular sergeant said. James stood up facing his fate. The sergeant spun him around and cuffed him. Another office read James his Miranda Rights.

The police hauled him away. Celeste waited for their return. But they kept moving towards the door. Moments later, she watched as James was loaded into the back of a police car. All of the police cars left the parking lot, her fears curved to joy, and a hefty smile crossed her face.

Whoa, I don’t believe it. I got away with it, unbelievable.

I don’t know what to say.

How about I’m sorry for doubting us?

You should still make it right.

Shut up. We won.

Early next morning at work, she admired the sun’s brilliant red colors as it broke through the horizon from the second story window. This was her first opportunity to be near a window in almost a year.

At EWS, the reps changed supervisors and seats every couple of months. The customer service representatives hated moving desks and changing supervisors, but it was company policy, and standard for the call center industry.

Celeste focused her thoughts on the couple of days prior, when she was first introduced to Mr. Perkins.

Her head pounded from a long week of work. EWS was in the middle of their busy season, which meant Celeste took almost a hundred calls every day for eight hours. Exhaustion pounded her body, sending her into a mental and physical downward spiral. Her fatigued body craved sleep and rest.

After thirteen hours of working, Celeste waited in line at the grocery store. The uncomfortable warm temperature of the store added to her uneasiness.

The sole checker scanned groceries as fast as possible, but the scanner hiccupped on every other item, causing the line to grow.

Celeste left her buggy and its contents—pizza for one, frozen dinners for one, beer for one, and multiple macaroni and cheese servings for one—to pick up her favorite tabloid. She skimmed the opening pages, later she would submerge herself into it while eating her premade lasagna—for one.

The athletic, sharply-dressed gentleman behind her made an elaborate gesture of looking at his watch. It was obvious he was irritable and ready to go. He tapped his foot on the ground, making sure all heard. Disturbed, Celeste looked up from her magazine at him. What an idiot, how rude.

The cashier never acknowledged him.

Trying to be nice, Celeste asked the man, Why don’t you go in front of me? You only have a couple of items, and I have this buggy of stuff. Without hesitation or a thank you he moved around Celeste, now next in line.

Well, you could have at least said thank you. Jerk!

He turned to the cashier and yelled. Hurry up. I have places to be. He cried out rude vulgarities for all to hear. Celeste felt shame for the cashier, who was doing her best.

Still with a loud voice, but now with a slow and deliberate tone as if he were making fun of a person with mental disabilities he spoke to the teenage woman. You aaaaarrrrrreeee soooooooo slow. The cashier looked up at the man. Tears formed in her eyes.

Sorry, I’m going as fast as I can. The scanner is acting up.

Go, he said into his cell phone after it rang, and paying no attention to the young lady he had just offended.

Once the checker finished, she gave him his total. He removed the phone from his ear, I can see the total, you dimwit. I’m looking at the screen. I’m not a moron. The voice was harsh. He signed the automated credit card keypad, yanked up his grocery bags, and walked out, still on the phone.

Jerk, Celeste remarked as the checker ran her food items over the scanner.

Yeah, I hate customers like that. The checker was barely able to speak, I’m going as fast as I can and the stupid scanner is not working right. I don’t know why I always get this register when I’m the only one here. Customers like him make me so mad. She wiped away a small tear.

Hey, don’t let him get to you. He has issues. Celeste turned her vision to the man as he walked out the door. Don’t you wish just once you could do something or say something to idiots like that?

Yeah, but the ‘customer is always right.’ The cashier smirked.

Celeste laughed, I think the person who came up with that crap needs to be shot.

Indeed.

Celeste loaded the groceries into her Honda Civic. Two larger than normal trucks blocked her visibility. With caution, she eased out into the aisle. The crashing metallic sound echoed through the parking lot. Her head smashed hard against the steering wheel, forming a small whelp.

Ow. A few seconds later she pulled her car forward back into its space. Dazed.

Panic ripped through her body. The angry, bitter man from inside now stood outside his luxury Mercedes-Benz, screaming obscenities rained out of his mouth. Celeste wanted to cry but would not give him the satisfaction.

You’re going to pay for this, you…, shaking his right index finger several times at Celeste as she stepped out of the car. Celeste felt the onslaught of his hysterics.

He ranted for several minutes before giving her the chance to speak, I think it was both our faults. She tried to back away but he stepped closer.

Both of our faults, are you crazy? More profanity. You’re a freaking lunatic. I was already in the lane when you creamed my car. Look at the bumper and taillight. Celeste looked. A small dent on the bumper and the taillight was broken. Not that big of a deal. He continued, You stupid… Do you know this is a $160,000 vehicle, and you smashed into it as it was some kind game or something?

Fearing for Celeste’s life, witnesses dialed 911.

After ten minutes of ranting, the man stepped away from Celeste. While both parties waited for the non-emergency call to be answered by the police, the man angrily paced around his car.

Meanwhile, Celeste waited in hers while her frozen food thawed. The Texas August heat zapped her energy. She tried turning on the engine and the air conditioner, but she was low on gas. Her rare treat of ice cream, her reward for the hard week, thawed.

The idiot held up traffic by refusing to move his luxury vehicle until he spoke with police. Even the store manager approached him and begged him to move his vehicle; he refused with more four letter words.

When the police finally arrived forty minutes later, the man was still in the middle of his tirade, making it quite clear that he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. The policeman commanded the man to move his car back into the parking spot, and he grudgingly did.

After the officer gathered both statements, he determined no one was at fault, and no tickets were issued, each given a copy of the accident report for their insurance.

Celeste went home to eat her thawed un-tasty meal.

Story of my life, she thought as she took the first bite. Even the microwave could not salvage her meal.

The next morning after her accident, the buzz in her headphones, indicating a call, jarred her back into reality.

Hello, thank you for calling EWS your prime healthcare experience. This is Celeste, how may I help you?

The familiar male voice pierced her soul. She hoped to God he did not recognize her, but he did.

I need to find a doctor who deals with gynecomastia. The man said boldly.

Okay, may I have your account information, please?

He gave it to her, it was him.

Dang it.

She would never forget his name or what he had done to the cashier. Celeste quickly pulled up his account information then turned her attention to looking up his disease on the Internet. Normally she did not care about peoples’ conditions, but she had to know. A small chuckle left her lips.

What are you laughing at? Wait a minute, I know you, Celeste. Profanity rained. You’re the girl who hit my car yesterday. What are the freaking odds? I recognize your voice, don’t deny it.

Crap. Busted.

Mr. Perkins, I assure you I don’t know what you are talking about, her voice was shaky. I didn’t hit your car.

You did. I know it was you. What is your last name? He demanded.

Smith. She lied. EWS did not require the representatives to give out their full names. Celeste McCallister knew his venous side and did not want to entangle with him again.

Fine then, what were you laughing at, Celeste Smith? The man’s bitter voice blasted.

Nothing, her voice betrayed her.

You were laughing at my disease weren’t you? He yelled.

Celeste’s anger boiled, but she kept her professional voice and demeanor, No, Mr. Perkins I’m not a doctor. I don’t have any knowledge or could care less what gynocomstia or whatever you call it is. She mispronounced the name of the disease on purpose. I assure you I was not laughing at your disease. Her confidence returned. Years of customer service experience taught her how to handle abrupt customers. She gave him his requested information with a smile of gratitude, knowing a secret about him he did not want the world to know.

Thank you for calling EWS, your prime health care experience. The call was almost over when Mr. Perkins caught her attention, Oh, I need something else,

Of course, you do.

Yes, what can I do for you, Mr. Perkins?

He lit into her with name-calling, obscenities, vulgar blasting, and racist remarks. For the next ten minutes, she endured his outrage. Celeste wanted to go somewhere private and cry.

EWS refused for their customer service representatives to disconnect a call, no matter how abrasive a customer became. Every call scrutinized for accuracy and valuable customer service, and hanging up was not valuable customer service. It was an inexcusable offense. EWS fired more people for hanging up on customers than anything else. Celeste listened to the man’s fury of hatred. Something unbelievable crossed her mind as his outpour continued.

The man irked her, and she wanted to do something about it.

I’d be angry all the time too if I were a male with breasts enlargements—gynecomastia. She laughed.

A few days later, Celeste was at the mall when the man’s boisterous voice carried into the center of the mall, shredding yet another sales representative.

Why can’t I get away from this guy?

Having worked in customer service for many years, she knew how to dismiss rude customers from her mind. Never before had they irritated like Mr. Perkins.

I should do something. Then it hit her.

Chapter 3

FOR THE REMAINDER of the week, she gave each caller her undivided attention. She felt invigorated as if her life now had a purpose. The adventurous attitude was back after losing it in California. Her smile captivated her customers, and her happiness made them take notice.

Her euphoria lasted only a few days before she reverted back into boredom and the ho-hum of her daily routine. The devious action was remembered, but the high and joy she experienced faded.

You okay, dear? Evelyn asked once the high crashed down on Celeste. You seem depressed or something. A few days ago you were smiling and carrying on, and having a good time. Now you seem…I don’t know, different, almost depressed. She and Celeste sat in the break room eating their lunch.

Yeah, it’s one of those weeks, where one moment, you’re on top of the world, and nothing can go wrong and the next you’re consumed with the customers’ problems, and get depressed. Maybe, I’m becoming jaded.

Oh, it’s work related. I thought maybe you had a new boyfriend, and he dumped you.

"I wish I had a boyfriend, but unfortunately,