Axiom

By A.M Carr

Shayne Whitaker thinks she’s doing everything right. She has a college degree, an apartment in the city, and a job downtown. Her faith, although a prominent part of her childhood, hasn’t permeated her heart, but she doesn’t know what is missing.

Drake Lindermann is a successful finance broker and a self-made man. His religiosity is only a cultural hashtag. Family prominence has reared his footsteps, but a walk on the dark side is about to change his perspective.

Determined to secure their autonomy in this world, these two young professionals face temptation created by dark forces and unwittingly become prizes in a battle between good and evil. Will prayer be enough to change the trajectory of their moral compasses, or will the axioms of this world lure them away from the narrow path toward truth and down to something more malevolent?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781489734334

A.M Carr

A. M. Carr is a born-again follower of Jesus Christ. Her education includes child development, music education and business management. Much of her career was spent in corporate America, where she experienced a dichotomy of truth and almost-truth. After facing an identity crisis, she sought help within a Christ-centered recovery ministry and later served in that same recovery ministry, helping others to see and experience God’s truth. She and her husband live in Northern California.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 A. M. Carr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

LifeRich Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.liferichpublishing.com

844-686-9607

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3432-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3431-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3433-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021903775

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 10/06/2021

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

1

D ark, chiseled, crisp. He walked in matchless confidence. It seemed he knew no limits and carried no inhibitions. Poise and prestige had reared him from infancy. His gait tastefully displayed a creed of proper etiquette and elite mannerisms. Drake had wanted for nothing and knew not of pretense.

With ease he swiftly opened the glass doors and entered the foyer of the marble-walled building. Windows high above illuminated the lobby with a cool, gray light, coming from the overcast skies above. Reflections bounced from the glossy surface of the tiled floor. The sophisticated click of his heels held a rhythmic cadence. He was proud, accomplished, and ready. He had taken this path several times and had no need to review his steps to avoid the couches or planters ahead of him. A refreshing, seductive waft lingered as he walked briskly past the receptionist. Seemingly unintentional, the cost at the fragrance counter was well spent to elicit a memorable presence. A brief pause in his stride, just in front of the welcome desk, left a bit of saturated air, and he could tell that the naively feminine admin enjoyed it. She exaggerated a pause in her work to yield to the moment, and the deep breath she took in was the affirmation he privately desired. His long and purposeful stride came abruptly to a halt in front of the granite-clad elevator. He didn’t know her name, but what did that matter? They turned over admins faster than he could close a deal.

The soft ding of the elevator sounded, and he stepped through the doors. Five suits followed him in and selected their floors. He knew his floor wouldn’t be selected, so he politely called out, Seventeen. As with every other seven-fifteen rush, he’d never seen the personnel who joined him on this vertical commute and most likely never would again.

The gentle downward pull tugged at his hips as the transportation box ascended the tower. He diverted his attention to the kid who was overly prepared for a job interview. He’d seen it so often that he felt like he could make a hiring decision right in that elevator. In spite of himself, Drake felt he had been gifted with an ability to identify fallacies in people, more flawlessly than a polygraph. The kid was obviously a recent college graduate, and his poorly fashioned suit, black leather folder (empty or, most likely, holding two copies of a feebly crafted CV), and excessive use of department-store cologne were clear indicators of the applicant’s newness to the business world. The elevator paused at floor thirteen, and the kid stepped onto the landing. Presidio Pharmaceuticals. Drake chuckled. Pharma sales reps were a dime a dozen and could be made from any monkey that cleaned up well. Good luck, kid, he thought. Today’s your lucky day. As the doors on the elevator closed, Drake brought his mind into focused clarity. He meditated on the soft rush of whirring air that passed the elevator as it sped upward through the shaft. He could eliminate any worry that lingered above his client meetings today. He was the Drake Lindermann. Clients didn’t even ring his office unless they wanted to close a deal. It was a waste of his time to employ his services simply to be educated or bounce an idea off of him. No, Drake had clearly defined boundaries with and for whom he would converse. He was never curt or rude; he simply felt that the study hall was the place to do one’s learning. You either trusted Drake’s abilities or you didn’t. He was a decision maker. If he’d wanted to teach, he would have continued his education, earned a PhD, and moved to Connecticut. His father had often criticized the student loan industry in that regard. Creditors earned interest from high-yield accounts while they fed on the dreams of students (children) who felt an insatiable desire to prove themselves to the world by way of a higher degree. It seemed like a money-laundering chasm. If anything, Drake’s family name in politics and law was enough to convince any cynic that he was trustworthy and legitimate. Drake had been more interested in capitalizing on the gains of liquid assets: real money. So he turned away from his father’s profession in the courts to pursue an education in finance and become an investment broker. The office he secured in the high-rise tower was just a formality for client meetings and legal correspondence. He had partnered with two colleagues so he had, at least, the minimum expected accountability—enough to keep the feds out of his way and a couple of paralegals to process transactions and handle reception work.

The elevator opened at the seventeenth floor and Drake stepped off, giving no acknowledgement to his riding party. It would have been a courteous gesture to wish them a nice day, but what would that do? An impractical wish of good fortune would hardly yield an outcome of measurable worth.

Good morning, Mr. Lindermann, called the receptionist. He gave a soft nod and wink. She liked that. He knew it. He was able to eliminate most office gossip with that little wink. It seemed that these young girls thrived on it and felt an obligation of loyalty to him when he did it. It was probably one of his cheapest investments. The return was favorable, and for Drake, it was only a flex of an insignificant muscle. That was his signature, his move, and he played it well.

The flashing red light on his phone indicated several unheard messages. Drake walked over to the wet bar, kicked on the coffee pot, and returned to his desk. He tapped the button next to the blinking light, and the automated voice announced the first recorded message.

Drake! the voice confidently shouted. Rob, here. Let’s get this thing closed. Monday, three o’clock. Click.

The second voicemail: Hey, you crooner! Drake grinned. Got another lead on that account in Florida. You gonna be around today? Gimme a buzz. Click. He and Lonnie might be the modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, but they had one thing those crooks didn’t have: brains.

Hello, Mr. Lindermann. A soft, executive voice, female. This is Alana from Senator Graves’s office. We’d like to schedule a day to close. His availability is Wednesday evening, six o’clock at the Vineyard. Please confirm; thank you. Yes, Drake would be there. This politician had class. Old-world reds and grass-fed beef; they didn’t even need the formal engagement to seal the deal. It was only a formality, a handshake and a write-off. But it had to appear professional; that’s what the taxpayers wanted to see anyway. So make a lavish show, play house, and kiss good night. Their transaction had already moved enough money this way and that so that even the loopholes wouldn’t be able to find loopholes. Still, they’d enjoy a Rothschild direct from the Chateau and a juicy filet cut from ol’ Angus, on the house.

Drake, it’s Mom. Hi, honey. Her Southern accent was still as fresh as his memories of her sweet tea on a summer afternoon. Wanted to remind you of the dinner with Judge and Mrs. Goldberg on Tuesday night. Now, you be good and put that in your little black book, or pad, or eCal—whatever it is you kids do. He could almost see her shaking her head and flailing her hands. Just you be sure to come. You know your father is so honored to have them to the house. I’m making sock-it-to-me. Kiss-kiss. I’m proud of you! Click. A teeny-tiny giddy sensation swept through Drake’s stomach. Mom’s sock-it-to-me cake was nothing short of divine. If he believed in a heavenly place, that’s where this cake would have come from. She served it with a hot buttered rum and orange-essence glaze. Nobody made it like Mom. Funny how just her voice could melt him down to the mind of a three-year-old. Well, time to close the book of memories and roll up his sleeves. Let Monday begin.

2

S hayne groggily flopped her hand toward the snooze button. Would eight more minutes actually make a difference? Augh! The alarm went off again. Monday morning had officially commenced. Had she really dozed off again? She clicked on her smartphone: twenty-six degrees. Lovely. At least the high was forecast to forty-one. She might brave it enough to go outside for her lunch break today.

Shayne stumbled to the shower, reached for the faucet, and so began her routine. Thank goodness the water heater hadn’t gone out this winter. The hot water coming out of the showerhead refreshed her face, and she felt revived. She lathered up her loofah and enjoyed the luxury of warmth and indoor plumbing. Thank you, Lord, she whispered. Revitalized and rinsed, she turned off the faucet, wadded her wet hair into a towel, and stepped onto the flat bath mat. It wasn’t a lavish department store piece, but its price was right, and she was on a budget.

Toothpaste. Note to self: get more toothpaste.

In this weather, any trip to the market felt like an expedition. She brushed the last little bit of frothy agent in circles around her teeth and began to plan her day. She needed to start a list and possibly pick up a few more things at the store after work. Spit, splash, sparkle; that was done.

Shayne started thinking about this temp job while she ran a brush through her kinky blonde hair. The job had become available at her time of greatest need. Though it wasn’t in line with her life’s ambitions, it met her practical needs today, and today was the only thing she really needed to be concerned with. To Shayne, it was a great starting point.

Hair and wardrobe presentable, Shayne crawled into her wool peacoat, adorned her hands with snug gloves, wrapped her wool scarf a couple of times around her neck, and grabbed her handbag. She stepped into the hallway, locked her front door, headed to the elevator, and then made her way to the parking garage. Being in an apartment meant she didn’t have to shovel snow. Hurriedly, she thanked the Lord for that blessing too.

Leaving for work an hour early every morning wasn’t the highlight of her day, but in these icy conditions, it was a necessity. Daddy had always been the one to take the wheel during snowy road trips or outings. Even though she had driven in the snow for quite a few years now, it amazed her how much she needed that extra time for precaution. It allowed her to focus and to stay calm in dangerous driving conditions; she saw it as a challenge to learn. She could learn from each snowy day and be more prepared if she ever found herself compromised. Many of her friends had experienced worse circumstances, like spinning out of control over black ice in the middle of a busy intersection. In Shayne’s mind, it was only a matter of time before she experienced it herself, but she counted each day as a blessing that such an incident wasn’t chalked up on her record.

Forty minutes later, Shayne found the snow-covered entrance to the parking garage at work and breathed a deep sigh of relief—another safe arrival. She smiled and counted it as gain. Locking her car doors, she made her way over to the employee entrance elevator and swiped her badge. It was a temporary access badge that would restrict her mobility from the sixth and seventh floors. Still, for such a time as this, she belonged here, and something about that little microchip gave her a sense of ownership and pride. It was worth her efforts to give a good impression. Who knew what opportunities lay ahead?

Morrison Enterprises was a small firm but big on the global scale of corporate business. They coordinated multidimensional supply-chain logistics for other global enterprises. It wasn’t a field that she had ever considered, but when the temp agency said small firm that’s been in business for twenty-seven years, Shayne felt confident that this paycheck wouldn’t fall out from underneath her. She made her way to the reception desk, greeted Sami with a warm hello, and made her way back to the accounting department.

Dendera was already at her desk. A woman of great discipline and grace, Dendera’s calm presence always set the tone for a productive day. Shayne felt honored to be chosen by this woman. Perhaps Dendera had seen Shayne’s youth and sensed an opportunity to help guide her through the next level of professional growth and development. Maybe it was her energy; Shayne’s bright personality joyfully lit up the room when the atmosphere was stagnant and stale. Maybe she saw kinetic energy bubbling, just waiting to be discovered. Whatever it was, Shayne had reciprocated the esteem for Dendera’s modest yet powerful presence and enjoyed the opportunity to observe her in daily operations.

Taking her place at her cubicle, Shayne draped her wool peacoat on the back of her chair and nestled her chunky wool scarf in the folds of the collar. She turned on her desktop computer and listened to the soft whirring that would connect her to the thousands of transactions and communications that built the foundation of Morrison Enterprises. Dendera had already placed a punch-list of tasks that would need to be addressed today:

48714.png Post AR checks

48714.png Reconcile AP checks to ledger

48714.png File invoices

48714.png Run aging report—sort 120+ and bring to me

Shayne felt a small grin creep over her cheeks. There was something to be said for the level of trust that Dendera felt in delegating these tasks to a temp. Similarly, Shayne remembered her own list that she needed to make:

48714.png Toothpaste

48714.png Bread

48714.png Milk

48714.png Eggs

48589.png

Clicking away, Shayne began to post the checks in the accounts-receivable database. It was rhythmic and, in a way, therapeutic. She needed just enough of her consciousness to verify the accuracy of the accounts, and then she could let her mind slip away to other things, like the little herb garden she was growing on her kitchen windowsill. Apartments are good for sleeping, she thought, because she was always going about, here and there, and rarely spent time alone in it. But this time, she had selected a model with the kitchen window facing east and her living room sliding glass door to the west. Her herbs seemed to enjoy the radiant sun in the morning, and Shayne enjoyed the golden glow and warmth of the afternoon sunset on her couch.

A shiver ran up her spine, and she realized how cold it was in the office. It didn’t really matter how high the heater was set. The office was quite sterile and cold on its own. Metal filing cabinets, Formica countertops, and vinyl flooring were reminders that this was a place of business and not comfort. She appreciated that there was a unique quality to any space that made it feel welcoming versus functional. She chuckled to herself as she pondered what would happen if she were to bring a novelty rug to work. If she placed a thing of comfort below her desk, would it cause her to be less productive? Would it invite a subtle presence of warmth that could lead to lazy behaviors? She often wondered why business environments didn’t welcome comfort. She had known many coworkers who flocked to the day spa after business hours, just to fill up, as they described. Fill up. Now that was an interesting thought. What exactly was filled up on those visits? Was it something to be measured? An organ or pocket located somewhere in her body, set aside to receive the contribution when filled? She should have paid more attention in psychology class. Whatever it was, Shayne thought that Morrison Enterprises could have been capitalizing on this phenomenon. She had come across surveys that explored the correlation of happiness in the workplace with increased productivity. She guessed that she might be faced with a different perspective, had she been the CEO. Measuring the impact of profit and loss against employee relations and aesthetics was a dying (if not lost) art among businesses today. The P&L meetings were often quite gruesome. Whatever their reasoning, Shayne wasn’t complaining. She was employed and could afford her little apartment. She was doing what she could, today, and she had faith that the sun would rise again tomorrow.

The last check, finally. As she posted the amount to the last account she stood from her chair and took a deep breath. Swinging both hands behind her back, she laced her fingers together and gave a good stretch. She felt the blood begin to flow and nerves begin to tingle as life rushed back into her limbs. Blood. She giggled a little because the rush of blood made her feel more real. Alive! That tingling sensation that started between her shoulder blades managed to electrify her arms into a reach that would open her eyes a little bit wider and energize her fingertips. And all it really was was a plasma-like goo pumping through a powerful, living organ. Whoever said that humans, by chance, came from goo, just didn’t want to see the majestic design of the human body. She grinned at herself and her silly little thoughts. Who would ever want to fall in love with her if they knew how she never quite landed when she got caught up in her mysterious little musings?

Time to get back to reality, Shayne. She needed to get back on task, and now that she felt human again from the refreshing stretch, she could grab the checks, her badge, and safe key and head up to the fourth floor, where she would process the deposit.

48593.png

Knock, knock! Shayne announced her presence in a singsong voice and gently tapped her badge on the clerk’s desk.

Gerald spun around in his whirly chair, a big smile shining on his face. Well, hey, Shay! I didn’t see you for the deposit last week! How’ve ya been, young lady?

Shayne slipped out a laugh, Oh I’ve been here, Gerry, but you know what the cave masters say about venturing off to other villages.

Yes, yes, you might think the rocks are grayer on the other side and put in for a transfer!

They shared a hearty laugh, and Gerald grabbed his deposit bags and slips so he could record the deposit in the ledger. Gerald was of like mind and spirit. Though he was nearly twenty-five years her senior, Gerry and Shayne always managed to get into uplifting conversations to brighten the cold, stale office. He was her buddy, and she was his.

So how’s that fish of yours, Shay?

Shayne gave a slight groan. Ugh. She had told Gerald that she needed some life in her apartment but didn’t want a commitment to a pet. As a compromise, she had picked up a goldfish and some watercress from an aquarium shop and opted for the freshwater pump that doubled as a bubbling sunken treasure chest. She’d been talking to Gerald about how to keep her little tank healthy since he was a saltwater hobbyist himself.

Well, Gus is still swimming, but the rocks are a little dingy. This weekend, I need to pick up a little tank vacuum and clean it out.

Yeah, that has to be the hardest part of keeping an aquarium. He paused but then quickly added, Especially saltwater! It has to be so perfectly balanced. It’s amazing to me that the ocean practically regulates itself.

Oh yes, Shayne said, with an agreeable nod and wink, Unreal how that ocean, with all of that sea life, just manages to keep itself stable in one drastically different ecosystem!

Shayne and Gerald both shared the belief that the world was designed and created by a loving deity. They both marveled at the way humanity had explained things away because they understood how everything worked. But she and Gerald always concluded that some people still weren’t willing to face the idea that something, even outside of scientific proof, had to have instigated the design in the first place.

Gerald chuckled at Shayne’s comment, and he slid a deposit slip to Shayne. Sign here, please.

Thanks, Gerry, Shayne said and signed over her deposit bag. I’ll see you next week.

I look forward to it, Shay. Take it easy, kiddo.

Shayne enjoyed Gerry’s company. He was old enough to be her dad and ushered a comfortable familiarity that she had felt with her own family. It was strange how his presence