The sun slid down the horizon to give way to the moon’s ominous glow. A reflection of the city landscape succumbing to darkness, neither totally dark nor completely lit, described the paradox of Knox Cartier’s soul. A faint orange glint, indicative of the dying light, shimmered against the shiny, black exterior of Knox’s Ducati, as its rumble quieted down next to a black metal lamp post. Tendrils of a malevolent, ancient force brushed against the undying ember of eternal light fighting to keep his conscience intact, as he secured a chain lock through the back wheel of his motorcycle, stretching it taut around the bike stand closest to the exit of the high school parking lot.
Signaling the arrival of night, the lamp over him flickered open.
The tug-of-war between light and darkness had been ripping his soul apart for as long as he could remember, but a few years ago, he had become a child of light, and for once in his life, Knox had hoped to be rid of the darkness within. Nights like this, however, reeled him back into a world he longed to leave behind, reminding him of a time in his life when he had immersed himself in complete darkness.
The eerie silence of the red brick building of a high school on a Friday night reminded him of the hollowness gnawing at him from the inside out. Knox heaved a deep sigh as he adjusted the straps of the black Jansport backpack on his shoulder. Its contents couldn’t be any more than five pounds, but it felt much heavier than it was. He pulled the hood of his black cotton jacket over his head, slipped his hands inside the hoodie’s front pocket, and brushed his thumbs along the smooth edges of his brand-new smartphone. The Nokia N70 was the latest model he could get his hands on; the mere sight of it inspired his gratitude. For a time, a younger version of himself never would have used a permanent phone, only disposables. God had changed so much in his life since that former version of himself. He should never allow himself to forget that.
Knox shut his eyes, set his jaw firm, and leaned his hip on the side of his motorcycle, faltering in his resolve to push through with that evening’s plans. “God,” he whispered, “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. Please help me out tonight. Protect me and the ones I love.”
The third verse in the third psalm circled his mind and encouraged his soul: But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, My glory and the One who lifts up my head.
Laughter interrupted his meditation of the Word his pastor had sent him through a text message earlier. Knox reluctantly opened his eyes. Two teenagers walked out of the school. They turned a corner toward the side of the brick building.
Knox brushed his fingers against his dark, trimmed beard as he stood to his full height, his brows meeting as he followed the path the teenagers had treaded. Why were there still people here? He followed them from a distance until they entered a family van. Across the vehicle was another parked car. The long-hand of his wrist watch ticked to thirty past seven. He had hoped the school and the parking lot would be empty by this time.
“It’s fine,” he told himself. To relax, he shook his shoulders and his arms. “This isn’t where I’ll meet them, anyway.” He uttered another hushed-and-rushed prayer: God, I leave this night in Your hands. Let no one be harmed tonight, and may I never have a night like this again.
Heart pumping and adrenaline rushing, Knox exited the bounds of the parking lot and strode along the sidewalk. He slid his fingers against the wired fence until he could take hold of its metal frame. Past the fence separating the school from the sidewalk, Knox once again slid his hands inside his hoodie’s pocket. He crossed the street and took a turn toward a block quieter and more deserted than the high school parking lot. The rendezvous point was nearby. Knox slipped into a dark alleyway between the brick wall of a commercial building and the flat concrete wall of a run-down apartment complex.
A solo saxophone track played from the one apartment in the building that had a light on. Knox hid himself behind a large dumpster and curled his lip at the stench of rot, piss, and vomit assaulting his senses. His sole source of light was a lamp awkwardly jutting out of the apartment building’s wall. It cast an ominous red glow on the deserted alley. Why it was even there, Knox could only guess. It was most likely a neglected leftover from a botched build or the forethought of some considerate stranger recognizing this alleyway’s need for some form of lighting. Whichever it was, at least Knox had some light, even if the red glow reminded him of blood.
Knox squirmed. This place was what he imagined would be the perfect spot for someone to get beaten up, or worse, murdered. His sensible side hurled objections at him. What was he getting himself into? He could still change his mind and walk away right now. There was no way he could get out of this, unscathed. Knox blew out a long breath to push away the objections. This needed to be done. Just this once. For the sake of his mother and the chance at a new beginning, with the past no longer haunting them.
Bracing himself for whatever was ahead, Knox took out his phone from his hoodie’s pocket and sent out a quick text message to the only person aware of what he was doing that evening.
Knox: I’m here. They’re nowhere to be seen.
As if aiming to nullify his message, low voices exchanging indecipherable words in the shadows sent shivers up his spine. His phone buzzed with an immediate response, but Knox was quick to slip the gadget back to his pocket. Out of the shadows emerged a familiar figure Knox had hoped to never see again. The tall, lean man with dark, graying hair had a sneer on his wrinkled face that made Knox shudder. Even as an adult, his stepdad still intimidated him.
“Six.” Knox’s jaw tightened. “Been quite a while.”
Six swayed his head back and forth, as if bobbing to an inaudible beat. The glow of the red overhead light against the gold of one of his incisors added a menacing overtone to his appearance. The plain white V-neck shirt, leather jacket, and straight-cut jeans he was wearing gave him an air of respectability absent from the track suits he had worn while watching Knox get beaten up to a pulp back in the day.
Behind him were two men — a stocky, bearded man wearing a black polo and cargo pants and a tall, muscular guy with a pink punk rock T-shirt and skinny jeans. Not the most fashionable people on earth, but fashion crimes weren’t what made these men dangers to society.
Knox almost rolled his eyes. That he was thinking about fashion while his criminal stepdad was circling him like a predator assessing its prey had to be a side effect of being the son of Corrine Strauss.
“You’re different.” Six continued to stalk him like the bird of prey he was — this man who had plenty of times eaten out of the carcasses of the poor, desperate, and needy. “Not like you were before.”
“Not sure what you mean.”
“You look less—” Six snapped his fingers “—defeated.”
Knox clenched his jaw. He didn’t need any reminders of the life he had once led under Six’s thumb. Knox’s irises rolled to the left corners of his eyes to get a view of Six, who now stood still by his side, giving him a complete look-over. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Mmm, why not?” Six snickered. “Why would I pass up the rare opportunity to reminisce with my stepson? When they told me Knox Cartier himself would show up for this, I had to man up and show up as well. What would it say about me, if I didn’t?”
Knox’s molars grinded together when Six poked at his rib.
“I see you’ve maintained at least some of your muscle mass.” Six repositioned himself to stand in front of Knox and studied his face. They were almost the same height, but Six was still at least an inch shorter than Knox, which meant he had to tilt his pointed chin ever-so-slightly upwards to stare Knox in the eye. “Do you still fight, my boy?”
Knox’s cheekbones twitched. “I’m not your boy.”
“Still so proud and belligerent.” Six tsk-tsked. “That part of you hasn’t changed, has it? You still have the nerve to look down on me. Never mind all the kindness I have shown you and your mother.”
“Is that what that was?” Knox scoffed. “Let’s not mince words here. Nothing you put us through was done out of the kindness of your heart, Six.” The name tasted sour on Knox’s tongue.
“I’ll let your ungratefulness pass.” Six sneered. “Wouldn’t want to put a damper on this father-son reunion, would I?” He laid his palms on Knox’s shoulders. “Come on! Why so serious, kid?”
As his stepfather shook him, Knox summoned all his strength and self-control to hold himself back from hitting the man.
“Everything I did was out of necessity. You never understood, but someday, you will.”
Knox didn’t understand, nor did he want to. Nothing about Six, nor his mother’s attraction to this man, made sense to Knox. Then again, it wasn’t necessary for him to understand this criminal, nor the reason Corrine had ever allowed him into their lives. The only necessity right then was to give Six what he wanted and leave unharmed. “I brought what you asked — every penny you demanded in exchange for leaving my mother alone. All here.”
Six tilted his head to the side. “How is your mother? I miss her. Does she miss me too?”
Knox flinched. It weighed on his heart to know his mother probably did — even if this man had brought her nothing but trouble. “I’m not here to exchange small talk. I just want this over with.”
Six’s angular face sharpened, and his gaze darkened. This same expression on his face, like an unspoken threat of violence, had many times driven Knox to the streets and as far away from home as possible. The older man took a step closer to Knox — enough to make Knox bristle at the proximity. His thugs moved forward as well, closing in on Knox. Six clucked his tongue. “Watch it, boy. I may not be able to tolerate any more of your rudeness. Indulge this old gentleman, will you? Pretend to want to catch up with me, heh?”
Having had enough, Knox slipped his backpack off his shoulders to carry it in his hands. “I’m not here to—”
“Shh.” Six pulled his hoodie down and grabbed a hold of his neck with one hand and his chin with the other. “You listen to me, boy. Don’t rush through this process. You’ll show me what you got when I say so. Put your little backpack away, because I say when this is over. Your mother put me through hell, and she didn’t even have the decency to show up here tonight. Instead, she sends you out here like a little lap dog out to do her bidding. Don’t cross me, boy. You hear?”
Knox’s grip tightened on the closed backpack trapped between him and the man who had been only one among many other men jading his past. All of him wanted to fight back, start a brawl, endure the inevitable bruises and cuts. These criminals deserved at least a punch in the gut. Still, wisdom tempered his anger and invited him to relent. A definite side effect of becoming a Christian — even if he didn’t feel like much of one at the moment.
When Knox forced the tension out of his stance and relaxed his form, the death glare Six was sending him faded away. The man let go of his jaw. His grip on Knox’s neck loosened, as he smiled and patted Knox on the cheek. “There you go. That’s my boy. Now, answer my question. How is your mother?”
Knox fought the urge to object, but it was becoming clear this wouldn’t end unless he cooperated. He cleared his throat before answering. “She is fine, better than she has been in a long time. She’s in a good place right now, so access whatever part of you that cares about her, and don’t bother her anymore after this.”
“Don’t you trust me at all? I’m a man of my word. You know that, yet you make me sound like such an evil man.” Six grinned. “She’s the one who stole from me, remember? I lost a lot of money because of you and your mother. Let’s not forget that.”
“Isn’t that why I’m here? To make amends? You’re getting a lot more than you lost.”
“That’s assuming you came through.” Six’s facial expression tensed before he stepped back and huffed. “Fine. Let’s get this done with. You’re no fun to talk to, anyway. So—” Six pointed at Knox’s backpack “—show me.”
Knox unzipped the backpack and opened it to show Six its contents. Inside were stacks of hundreds, amounting to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Six leaned over to take a peek at the bag’s contents. He lifted his brow at Knox before snapping his fingers. “Count it.”
The guy in the pink punk rock shirt took the backpack to count what was inside.
“It’s all there,” Knox said.
“Clean?” Six asked.
“Of course. You won’t have any problems at all.”
“You know the deal is off if I do, right?”
Knox curled his lip. “I know enough not to mess with you, Six.”
“It’s all here,” the pink-shirt thug confirmed.
Six’s grin grew wider. His gold teeth glistened red against the overhead lamp. He laughed as he cupped Knox’s face with his rough, dry palms. “Perfect. For once, you’re more than just talk. You actually delivered.”
“Are we done here?” Knox asked. “You have your money. Her debt is repaid.” He slid his hood back over his head and motioned to walk past Six, but the older man grabbed hold of his arm.
“Now, wait a minute,” Six said. “I already told you. I say when this is over.”
“The deal is done. Let go of me.”
Six’s grip on his arm only tightened.
Alarms blared inside Knox’s head. Lord, come through for me tonight. Don’t let this get out of hand. A sickening sensation turned Knox’s gut.
Six stroked his chin with his two fingers. “Do satisfy my curiosity, my dear boy. I can’t let you go just yet, because I have to wonder. Knowing how dirt poor you and your mother were when I found you, can you blame me for my surprise when I found out you were coming to me with all this money? So, before coming here, I did a little digging.” That unnerving sneer of his returned as he looked Knox straight in the eye. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered what you have been up to, since you left your mother and me.” Six clucked his tongue yet again. “What a selfish brat you have been. You didn’t think to give back to us, while you lived in the laps of luxury?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Knox shook his head. “I owe you nothing.”
“Nah.” Six chuckled. “That’s where we disagree. You see, from my point of view, you owe me everything.” He patted Knox’s face with his hand. “I think you’re low-balling me with a measly quarter of a million, considering everything I lost when you walked out on our deal.” He poked at the backpack containing the money. “This covers the money your mother stole from me, but what about what I lost because of you? All the stress and anxiety you caused me, that’s got to be worth at least double, right?”
Six turned to his thugs. Both men nodded.
“I think double is fair, boss,” the stocky one said.
“Double?” Knox’s throat constricted. “That’s all the money we have. There isn’t any more.”
“I don’t believe that. Nah.” Six stepped forward and tugged on Knox’s hoodie to pull him closer. “Not when you have the grandfather you have.”
Knox gulped. “Six.” He balled his fists. “No.”
“Then again, I can’t blame you for hiding your grandfather from me, can I? This is all my fault. I should have known Corrine came from old money. Her tastes betrayed her. Can’t believe I didn’t realize earlier.” Six tapped his chin with his forefinger. “But that’s in the past, and the whole point of this meet-up is to settle past scores. What’s of actual concern right now is how much you’re worth to your grandfather.”
“What are you talking about?” All of Knox’s defenses shot up as darkness closed in on him. He shook his head to resist. Enough. Somehow, light had to break through. He wasn’t about to just turn the other cheek on this one. He tightened his fists as he shot Six a glare. “This won’t go the way you want, Six.”
The hardened criminal chuckled. “We’ll see about that.” He nodded toward his men, who immediately closed in on Knox.
Poised for a fight, a force much stronger than him arrested Knox from within. I will fight for you. You need only be still. The words rang in Knox’s ear — a passage from the Word he had read that morning. God had come through for the Israelites. Could God come through for him now?
Knox had been fighting all his life. Was it time to let Somebody else fight for him? Against all his natural instincts, Knox lifted his hands. “I’m not here to fight.”
The surrender was not to a powerful man who had once made his life hell, but to a much Higher Power. The moment he did, in that dark alleyway between brick and concrete, Knox experienced firsthand what it meant for light to pierce through the darkness.
This is the first chapter of the Christian love story, The One Who Tripped Away.