CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2018

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Chapter 6

Katrina Fury lay on her bed, looking up at the pale blue ceiling, and tried to sort through the conflicting emotions that had recently begun to disrupt her orderly world.   She was feeling a great sense of confusion; it was as if she were being pulled in different directions, by forces which she had little control over.  The turmoil of her life had begun to affect her schoolwork for the second time that year, and her grades were reflecting it.  If she kept this up she would slip off the Dean's Honors List, and her mother would be terribly disappointed.  She wanted to avoid hurting her mother at all costs, but some strange and wonderful things were happening, things which were greatly distracting her from her usual mundane routine.

A perfect stranger had entered Katrina's life and led her by the hand into a world of glamour, beauty and awesome opportunity.  Suddenly Katrina had found herself being pursued and courted by famous magnates of the film industry, who had assured her that she had a big future in movies.  And not cheap low–grade movies like the ones her friend Gina Richards, who had recently left school to pursue an acting career, was involved in; these were famous producers and directors that were wooing her, ones who had garnered academy awards and were hailed as geniuses and giants in the press.  And they were deluging her with phone calls, telegrams, expensive dinners, even specially-delivered flower bouquets.  She had never experienced anything like it before in her placid, sheltered life.

Suddenly visions of fame and enormous wealth had begun spinning before her eyes.  She knew she could act; she had been chosen for leading roles in school plays many times before, and had no problem learning different lines and dialects.  It was natural for her; she found it much easier and more enjoyable than math or science classes.  Still, she had never considered acting as a career. In the past it would have seemed a completely unrealistic waste of time, something her late father would have discouraged and forbidden.  But now all of that had suddenly changed.  A schoolmate named Jacob Rosenberg had recently approached her and persuaded her to consider a career in acting.  He had taken her to meet Stephen Schidtberger, a boorish but very powerful filmmaker, and from there things had escalated.  Or to put it more accurately, had begun to spin out of control.  Jacob and Schidtberger had taken her to a glamourous party one night, where she had met many of the biggest names in the film industry, and it had turned out to be the start of an exciting new life for her.

Not surprisingly, Katrina had soon become completely disgusted with Schidtberger, the asinine director of dozens of ludicrously mindless celluloid offerings, and had backed out of any contractual obligations, mainly because of the thinly–veiled meaness and shallow stereotyping implicit in most of his movies.  But soon after Katrina had balked at working with the small–minded but incredibly rich mogul, the other filmmakers she had met at the party began to take an intense interest in her.  At subsequent gatherings they treated her with great kindness and respect, offering her parts in serious film projects, and after conferring with a lawyer friend of Jacob's she had agreed to have her picture taken and had auditioned for an important supporting role in an upcoming movie starring Gretchen Medici, the famous singer–actress; she passed the audition with flying colors, and had won the role.  Jacob's lawyer was reviewing the contract which she had been given, acting as her manager and negotiating for even bigger money than had originally been offered.  All of this had taken place within the space of a few months.

Yes indeed, her world had exploded inside–out.  Her mother was fully behind her, Jacob Rosenberg was helping her; wealth, fame and rich influential people were all knocking at her door.  And now another perfect stranger named Carlos Fontana was threatening to ruin it all.

Katrina sighed and sat up on her bed, looking at the clothes and shoes she had angrily kicked off that were lying strewn about the floor.  She didn't like to admit to herself that she even cared a little bit what Carlos might feel about her personal business.  She still didn't quite understand why she was even concerning herself with what this person she had only recently met thought about her, especially when she considered the reputation this person had.

Katrina looked down at the wood parquet floor and sighed again.  The things she had heard about Carlos Fontana! And she hadn't been snooping either; the talk was everywhere.  Carlos, the weirdo.   Carlos the nut, the doomsayer, the pervert, the druggie–surfer musical genius, the most unpopular person in the entire school.  Carlos the Usher–hater.

Katrina glanced at the expensive new guitar she had recently bought that was standing in one corner of her large, orderly room.  Gazing at it's shapely beauty gave her a feeling of peace.  It represented something pure and beautiful to her, something that seemed to be warning her about the new world into which she was rushing headlong.  She had bought it for one reason; to use as an excuse to get to know Carlos Fontana.  Why? Because Carlos had represented something pure and beautiful to her, something she felt she desperately needed after her terrifying brush with madness, the malady which had overcome her after her father's untimely death.

Katrina shuddered as she thought about the frightening experience she had recently undergone.  It had been touched off by her father's death, but it had been building up for some time before that; some sort of odd paranoia that had gotten out of hand.  Strangely enough, it had come about as a result of the perfect contentment which she had always enjoyed, which had pervaded her life.  It had ultimately all started to feel like too much.  Too much perfection.  Too much contentment.

One day Katrina had begun to question the perfection; it had started to feel too much like a dream, with no basis in reality.  The perfect reflection she saw in the mirror every day; the beautiful home in the perfectly landscaped neighborhood.  The perfect weather of Westview; the school papers she turned in which always came back to her marked A+, 100%, Very Good, Excellent; the many different pursuits in which she excelled, seemingly without effort.  The adulation she received from boys.  There was something dreamily unreal about it all, something which had slowly, surreptitiously begun to frighten her.  She had started to think obsessively about it; then she began to torment herself, toying with the crazy thought that she might really be already dead and in Heaven… or maybe some kind of Hell.  The unnerving thought that this might actually be true had somehow gained prominence in her mind, and had begun to trouble her more and more.

She had tried to force this terrifying cogitation out of her mind but it had persisted, then had begun to dominate her thoughts and dreams.  Slowly, inexorably, she began to sink into dark, brooding moods where she would retreat for long periods of time. Her mother had caught her several times sitting in a chair in the kitchen, staring at the wall as if in a catatonic trance. Katrina hadn't immediately responded to her call, but had snapped violently back to reality when her mother touched her shoulder, her eyes registering fear and confusion.

Katrina's father had always been loving and supportive, but he had been strict; very strict.  A member of a conservative Usher sect, he was trying to protect his daughter from the corrupting influences of a world he viewed as having gone completely mad.  To that end, he had forbidden her to read certain books, see certain movies, listen to certain types of rock music, or date boys he disapproved of.  Katrina loved her father dearly, but one day after missing yet another much talked about movie she had found herself wishing she could be free of his restraining hand, just to see what life was really like.  In her depressed state, her imagination had wandered and she had briefly visualized herself attending her father's funeral.  The next day her father was dead. 

He had been in a terrible pile–up on the freeway involving five other cars; he had been the only fatality.  He had left her a considerable inheritance.  When Katrina's mother broke the news of his death to her, to her horror Katrina began to quake uncontrollably, then had fallen to the floor in a faint.  The family doctor was called and had administered a mild tranquilizer which had calmed her nerves and put her to sleep, a troubled sleep bedeviled by nightmares.

The next day Katrina had complained to her mother that the birds outside were driving her crazy with their incessant chirping.  Then a large, ominous looking raven had taken to sitting in the tree branches close to her second–floor bedroom window, periodically emitting a dreadful caw which chilled her to the bone.  A few days later her mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen directly below Katrina's bedroom, occasionally looking out the window as she worked, when she was startled by the loud noise of breaking glass.  Suddenly Katrina's heavy windowscreen had come crashing down onto the patio below, knocking over a small planter.  She had heard Katrina screaming out the window: "Stop!! Stop it, damn you!! Oh my god, stop!!" She had dropped her pan and ran with her heart in her mouth full–speed up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom, where she found Katrina throwing her possessions out the window.  She had only stopped when her mother grabbed her and held her tightly in her arms where she collapsed, shaking violently and sobbing hysterically.

Again the family doctor was quickly summoned, but this time after giving Katrina a more powerful tranquilizer which sent her off to sleep, he had told her mother that Katrina must see a psychiatrist immediately; apparently the shock of her father's passing had pushed her over the edge.  He recommended a specialist he knew in Westview.

Katrina had seen this doctor and confessed everything she had been experiencing, but the middle–aged man had seemed strangely indifferent and unsympathetic.  In a flash of anger Katrina realized that she had sexually frustrated the jaded idiot, and he only wanted her to get out of his line of vision and stop the torture.  She walked out in disgust and refused to take the medicine he had prescribed.  Her mother had then taken her out of school on a two–week trip to see Katrina's grandparents, who lived in a large rustic cottage set on several acres of land overlooking a large, beautiful lake.  The trip had calmed her a bit, but had not really quieted her fears.

When she got back home the raven had disappeared.  Still badly shaken, Katrina then attempted to carry on with her life.  She began waking up early and driving to the beach to go jogging in the peaceful morning sunlight before classes; this seemed to help, but more bad things lay ahead, just out of sight.  Upon returning to school, Katrina found to her horror that word of her breakdown had somehow gotten out and was circulating around the campus.  She then realized for the first time just how many of her schoolmates were jealous of her, and the depths they would stoop to in order to upset her.  Some of them began to laugh cruelly when she passed by; they would wave their arms up at the trees, shouting, "The birds! Oh my gawd the birds!!" These flagrant displays of petty idiocy enraged and disgusted her, contributing greatly to the depression that continued to hover over her like a dark cloud.  She didn't understand how these people could know things about her private life; she began to mentally buckle under the strain.  She felt as though she were under seige, not knowing who to turn to for solace, or whom she could trust anymore.

She was in this state of mind when Jacob Rosenberg had first approached her with his outrageous proposition.  Katrina had decided to trust him, and her entire world had been transformed overnight.  Jacob's gambit had flowered into something bright and fascinating, something that brought her much relief from the misery she had been feeling.  Katrina hopefully thought that she had somehow transcended her troubles; her spirits had temporarily been lifted. But to her dismay she soon found that she was still being mocked by many students at her school, who now had even more reason to burn with jealousy.  It seemed that no matter what happened, they would never let her forget her one brief transgression.

One morning when she was finishing up her morning jog at the empty beach, she happened to see a classmate walking out of the ocean in a black wetsuit, a surfboard under his arm.  She recognized him; he was a boy in her Speech class she had been hearing about for years, but had never talked to.  He glanced at her, but did not say hello.  It was just as well.

Carlos Fontana was one person who would understand what she was going through, Katrina thought to herself as she headed for her car.  He was himself the subject of gossip and ridicule at her school, although she had never been much interested in hearing it.  She usually just walked away whenever some busybody started gossiping meanly about anyone.  It had always disgusted her that people indulged in such low behaviour and now that it was happening to her, she felt a strange kinship with the poor guy.  Still, she had heard repeatedly that Carlos despised Ushers for some reason, and she was a Usher.  She decided to have nothing to do with him.

However, the next day in her Speech class Katrina began to feel the same strange sense of empathy when Carlos went up in front of the class to give a demonstrative presentation with an old battered guitar, a microphone and two tape recorders.  Some buffoons had begun to jeer and taunt him, yelling out things like "conspiracy music!" and "let's hear some oldies!" But the dark youth had simply ignored them, calmly setting up for his demonstration.  Katrina had taken heart at his courage and dignity in the face of such rank hostility.  In spite of all the unfavorable things she had heard about him, she resolved then and there to be more like Carlos, and not react so angrily when beset by her own tormentors.  Then an amazing thing happened, something which had changed the course of Katrina's life.

Carlos had demonstrated how to create a song using a technique called multi–tracking.  "The secret is to record as loudly as possible without exceeding the limits of the tape," he said, as he began to skillfully pick and strum some chords into the microphone.  Katrina was impressed at his obvious mastery of the instrument, and the song he played was very pretty.  "Now I'll play back the tape and play accompaniment, while I record it on the other tape." When he did so, something beautiful began to take shape in front of Katrina's eyes and ears.  She listened in fascination as he repeated the procedure one more time, this time adding some notes in the lower registers of his guitar.  When he played back the final three tracks that he had combined on one cassette tape, the result was magnificent.  Even through the cheap equipment, a lovely, uplifting song was clearly ringing throughout the room.  Carlos received a rousing applause from everyone except Katrina, who had sat frozen in her chair dumbfounded by the simple beauty of the thing he had so quickly and effortlessly created, and the casual and indifferent way he took in the praise of the now enthusiastic students that he had not even tried to win over.

In a flash, Carlos had been transformed in her eyes. This was no ordinary person; this was a highly talented and creative artist, a rare find, perhaps a genius! Suddenly Katrina was deeply interested; this was someone she felt she had to know.

When the class ended Katrina had nearly knocked over her chair in her haste to get to Carlos, who was gathering his things at the other end of the room, about to make a quick getaway.  Slowing down a bit, she had approached him calmly, giving him one of her devastating smiles as she introduced herself.  She talked with him for several minutes, asking him dumb questions about his music, if he had any plans to go into the music business, etc.  Then with time quickly running out, she threw caution to the winds and, smiling again, had impulsively asked him if he could teach her to play the guitar.  And Carlos Fontana had turned her down.

Turned her down! She could hardly believe it! As she looked blankly at him, he had clumsily and politely explained that he would really like to help her, but his busy schedule just wouldn't allow it.  Perhaps maybe some time in the future, if he could find some free time…

Katrina had quickly recovered from her shock, trying hard not to show her humiliation.  "Oh, I know how it is," she said with a smile.  "I never have time to do anything myself, between my schoolwork and my jogging! But it's good for us to keep busy, isn't it? Well, I'd better not keep you any longer.  'Bye Carlos!"

"Bye, Katrina," he answered quietly, and she had turned and walked away, holding her head high but feeling a sudden childish urge to cry.  Carlos had made a huge impact on her in just a few minutes; he had infatuated her, then brushed her aside.  She was surprised at her own reaction; she felt genuinely hurt. Nothing in Katrina's experiences with boys had prepared her for rejection by someone like Carlos! But she had detected a forlorn note of sadness in his farewell which she quickly seized upon, and she played it over and over again in her mind.  The heartless iron–man Carlos Fontana was not immune to her charms after all, she realized.  She decided to seek revenge.

A few days later Katrina had purchased a beautiful, expensive new guitar and confidently approached Carlos again, this time dressed suggestively in short blue denim cut–offs, a white halter–top and high–heeled sandals.  Holding up her guitar, she had hit him with another movie star smile.  "Well, if you don't have time to teach me, at least you can help me tune it!" she said.  This time Carlos melted completely.  He spent several minutes talking and joking with her, even showing her a few simple chords.  Katrina was impressed; Carlos was witty and intelligent, and very nice.  She had never previously thought of him as being very attractive, but now after experiencing him up close and personal, she decided that he was good–looking in a noble Indian sort of way.  She laughed as he finally tore himself away from her, running late to his next class; she had completed phase one of her nefarious plan.  "Vengeance is mine, sayeth Katrina," she mused to herself, smiling impishly.

Katrina had cornered and spoken to Carlos several times after that.  In spite of herself, she began to like him more and more, but although friendly, he had remained passive and somewhat aloof; he almost seemed to be afraid of her.  At any rate, he had yet to take the bait and ask her out.

Katrina slowly came back to the present.  Sighing once again, she stood up and walked over to the ornate, full–length mirror that hung on her closet door and regarded herself.  In her light blue underwear, Katrina was indeed a sight to unnerve any man.  She exercised every night on a rubber mat which she rolled out onto the floor, prefering the privacy of her large comfortable room to the packed gym she belonged to but never visited.  She made herself do this every night, in the hope that one day she might meet a man whom she could give herself completely to, without hating herself for it.  But in spite of all her efforts to meet a suitable guy, Katrina had remained solitary and lonely for the most part, with only the company of her girlfriends to ease the pain.  She knew what the guys she had previously gone out with wanted; to them she was just a sex object, something to be possessed, used and shown off.  They didn't consider her pain, her fears or her happiness; they were insensitive dolts.  She was smarter than they were; she could see right through them.

"Everybody thinks I'm so nice," thought Katrina as she studied herself in the mirror.  Well, she wasn't so nice.  She could be just as mean as the people around her if she put her mind to it.  Katrina scowled into the mirror. She clenched her hand into a fist and punched the air. Then she kicked high, like she had seen her friend David Slasher do.  A wicked smile slowly came over her face as she remembered her new fascination, the movie project.  She was going to win; one day she was going to be a big star. She would be rich and famous, and get her revenge on all the people that had hurt her.

Carlos Fontana had asked for it, and now he was going to get it.  She would make him fall in love with her; then she would drop him on his big insensitive head.  She would hurt him the way he had hurt her, but more.  And she would enjoy it.

But as she walked back over to her bed Katrina felt the same nagging doubt that had been haunting her intermittently for days.  It was common knowledge that the movie industry was dominated and controlled by Ushers; the worst kind of Ushers.  She knew it; every intelligent person knew it.  Surely Carlos knew it.  She sat down on her bed and the strange fear she had experienced before came over her once more.  What if Carlos rejected her again? Because of her working in movies? And why did she care what this strange person whom she hardly knew thought about her business, anyway?

Everything was happening too fast, Katrina thought to herself as she pulled on her pajamas and prepared for bed.  But she was going to triumph over everything and everyone, by being as hard as nails.  She owed it to her father, who had given her everything and had protected her all her life.  He had taught her to be wiley and suspicious, and she wasn't going to let him down.  

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Copyright 2006, 2018 by Charles Adrian Trevino.