Intro Notes
Shadows of Redemption is a story that embraces the concept of finding hope, renewal, and salvation in the midst of darkness, uncertainty, and moral ambiguity. The story suggests that even in the grimmest and most challenging situations, there are opportunities for transformation and redemption. The "shadows" symbolize the difficult, obscure, and often dangerous circumstances we all face, while "redemption" signifies the possibility of recovery, forgiveness, and new beginnings for us all. This phrase encapsulates a journey through hardship that ultimately and hopefully leads us all to positive and meaningful change. The take home of this story is no matter where you are in life, you can always define and subsequently change your reality. There is no positive and negative energies, only energy. It is you who decides what it shall be.
T-
Chapter One
__________________________Slipping into Shadows________________________________
I watched the parking lot, eyes darting from one end to the other. Jeremy was crouched by a Ford F150, messing with the lock.
The bleep of my Nextel push to talk walkie-talkie function on my cell phone went off.
"Got it yet?" I whispered into the phone.
"Almost," Jeremy's voice crackled back, a mix of tension and excitement.
I scanned the entrance to the Safeway Grocery store. The noon time crowd was thick, pushing carts and talking to each other, oblivious to the two of us. My heart beat heavy in my chest, the familiar rush of adrenaline.
Jeremy was inside the truck now, working the jiggler key in the ignition. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw him. A short Mexican guy, moving fast, a bag of groceries swinging from his hand. He was heading straight for the truck.
"Jeremy, we got company," I hissed.
"Stall him," Jeremy muttered, trying to stay calm.
But there was no stalling this guy. He tossed his groceries into the truck bed and pulled an iron pipe from the back. He must have seen the light on inside the cab.
"Get the fuck out of there dude!" I shouted into the phone, but it was too late. The guy was almost on top of him. Jeremy bolted from the driver side door like a rabbit, sprinting through the parking lot. I swear to god if you blinked you would have missed him. The Mexican guy gave chase, pipe in hand, fury etched on his face.
I bleeped PJ. "We've got a problem. Jeremy's in trouble."
"Handle it," PJ's voice was calm, almost bored. "I'm on my way."
I took off after the Mexican guy, the world blurring around me. People were starting to notice, some stepping aside, others shouting. A little white Ford Escort screeched into the lot, tires smoking. Jeremy and the Mexican guy disappeared through the strip mall. The Escort followed, gaining on them.
I ran through the crowd of shoppers, knocking into people, drawing curses and threats. One guy started after me, but I didn't have time for him. I burst through to the other side, breath ragged, just in time to see the truck owner pinning Jeremy against the wall. The Escort screeched to a stop, and a large, tattooed man stepped out, eyes blazing. He was all menace in a wife beater and jeans, combat boots hitting the ground like thunder.
The Mexican guy turned, and the angry man met him with a right hook that dropped him like a box of rocks. He wasn't done. A kick to the head, vicious and final. Out of the driver's side came another man, bigger, Mexican too. He called himself Chillongo or some shit, but to me, he was eternally, Big Mexican.
Big Mexican grabbed the unconscious guy and tossed him into the back seat of the Escort. He threw me the guy's keys and wallet, like it was nothing. PJ stepped between us, gun drawn, and pressed it to my forehead.
"I drew on you, what do you do now?" PJ's voice was a dangerous whisper. "Come on, Alexander, what happens now?"
I tried to keep my voice steady. "I left the gun at the apartment. It was too heavy to run with. It...pulls my pants down cuz it’s so heavy when it’s loaded"
PJ's face twisted with a mix of anger and disappointment. "When you have that gun, you don’t have to run. When will you learn? What has to happen before you get it?"
He glanced at Jeremy, then at me again, his anger softening just a bit. "Go get the truck and do what I pay you to do. And next time, bring your gun. I can't always be here for you, Alexander." He said my name with a soft downward inflection. He looked as though he was about to say more but he stopped himself.
Being mindful of his rings, he tapped my head lightly, a gesture of care, and drove off. The unconscious Mexican guy in tow.
Jeremy and I stood there like we just saw a ghost, catching our breath. Coming down. "Up to no good again," I muttered, not sure if I was talking to Jeremy or myself. I didn’t care. My past flashed before me. My life, thus far, has been a relentless cycle of trouble and survival. My father kicking me out at fourteen, my life a series of desperate moves. Taking refuge with women three times my age until I learned to look out for myself. One shitty desperate move after another. No holidays, no birthdays, just survival at all costs.
I met PJ through Poison, my girlfriend. She was the cutest little Chinese girl you'd ever seen, with a wild wardrobe and a thing for knives. We were stealing some cigarettes when PJ found us. He asked for five bucks, when we didn’t have it he gave us a carton of Camel menthols. He asked if I stole cars. Of course, I did. It was Arizona. He gave me his number, and three months later, here we were.
I looked at Jeremy, he looked shook. We were both drowning in the undertow of this life. "Come on, let's get that truck," I said, and we moved ever forward, always forward, the night was still young, the dangers were far from over.
Chapter Two
_________________________Echoes of a Dark Call_________________________________
I was at the apartment with Poison. The light was subdued, shadows danced like ghosts on the walls. Poison was tied up, her eyes half-closed in a haze of expectancy. I moved the blade of her silver dagger slowly across her breast and tracing circles around her nipple. She was on the edge, teetering on the precipice of something primal, when the call came.
I answered the phone with great reluctance, my mind still entwined with the moment. "Hello," I said, the word froze in the air. Silence greeted me, becoming rather uncomfortable. Then, a voice—brazen, quiet, maniacal—broke through.
"The man scores one...and the crowd goes wild." The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my thoughts swirling and confused. Apparently, they didn't have much to say. Or did they? I turned back to Poison. The frustration on her face changed to a look like a puppy that said “throw the ball”. Damn, this girl was cute. Irresistibly so. But that call gnawed at me, a sick seed planted in my mind. Time would tell what kind of fuckery it would give birth to.
The next morning, I woke with my head buried in jet-black hair. I blew it out of my mouth, gently pushing her strong, shiny locks off my face. First light filtered through the blinds, casting blurry lines on the bed. I needed to get a hold of Jeremy and PJ.
Poison awoke beside me, her voice sultry and sleepy. "Come back to bed, Alexander. Finish what you started."
I kissed her shoulder, running my hand across her face and neck. It was met with a soft sigh, little white hairs stood up on her tanned, tone arms under my touch. Poison, with her hypnotic allure, was like a deity of love—an intoxicating blend of strength and vulnerability that made her simply irresistible. Her eyes, dark and expressive, locked onto mine, spoke ineffable volumes to me for which I could never find words.
Our lips came together in a slow, deliberate kiss, her mouth yielding to my will. She pulled me closer, her fingers tracing the valleys on my back. The world outside disappeared as we lost ourselves in each other, the moment stretching into eternity.
This is the only place I had ever found peace. These moments transcended time and space taking me to place past desire and tenderness, a place where she shone as a deity ,a legit goddess that needed my worship like water to survive. She was the embodiment of every man's desire, a living fantasy who held the power to both stir and soothe. We left each other breathless and disoriented. Poison called it “sexbrain”. Sex brain was about 30 min of a staggering low IQ after really great sex.
Laying on the bed next to Poison I picked up the phone and dialed PJ. The ring felt like an eternity.
"PJ," he answered, his voice rough.
"Hey...I need to talk to you about—"
"Jeremy's dead." PJ's voice cut through the haze, sharp and final.
"What?" My mind reeled. "What happened?"
"Overdose," PJ said. "Found him last night."
"Overdose? That doesn't make sense. Jeremy didn't do dope."
"Score one for the man," PJ muttered, under his breath.
The words from the call flashed through my mind. "Score one for the man. The crowd goes wild”. Now Jeremy was gone.
"We need to meet," I said, my voice steady but my heart racing.
PJ agreed, and as I hung up, I looked at Poison. She was watching me, her eyes dark with curiosity and something else. Fear, maybe. Or suspicion.
I reached into my bag and grabbed my gun, climbed back into bed, pulling her close. The morning was just beginning, and the shadows were already growing longer.
Chapter 3 Coming Soon!
Copyright 2024 Timothy Alexander Giordani
