CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2018

________________________________________________

Chapter 10

Waffle Shimmerman turned down the stereo that had been blasting his music, and turned to look at his passenger in the seat next to him. Jacob Rosenberg was sitting motionless, staring at nothing. Mike Sakack and Bill Bronsky had stopped laughing and were now leaning over the front seats. Bronsky took a swig from the flask he always carried and passed it to Jacob, but Jacob didn't move.

"Wonder what old fag boy was doing in this neighborhood," Waffle asked. "The cops should arrest him just for driving that old piece of shit around here! Think I scared him?"

"He was probably coming from David Slasher's house. Did you see who that chick was riding shotgun with him, Jacob?" asked Bronsky.

"That was Katrina Fury!" Sakack blurted out in amazement.  "What the hell is going on between those two? I saw them together at school the other day, too!"

Jacob came out of his stupor and glared at Sakack.  "Shut up, Mike," he snapped.   Sakack immediately complied, looking down at his feet.

Waffle smiled, seeing a bit of humor in the situation. He had started to grow tired of Jacob's constant boasts about how he was making time with Katrina, taking her here, buying her this and that.  If it weren't for Henry Rosenberg's movie connections, thought Waffe, Katrina Fury probably would never even have noticed him.  But now his completely deflated friend looked pathetic in his total despair, slouching miserably in his front seat. Waffle felt sorry for him.

"Don't worry, Jacob," he said.  "We've got dirt on Fontana that'll never come off.  When Katrina sees some of the new pictures we've got, she'll drop him like a hot rock! Ha! Whatever the hell she sees in that scumbag…"

"It's his music.  He's a hot guitarist," said Bronsky.

"Shut up!" screamed Jacob.  The others fell silent, suddenly realizing the full extent of Jacob's humiliation.  Of all the people who had been trying for years to destroy Carlos Fontana's reputation, Rosenberg had been the most fervent and blatant. Now, in spite of all Jacob's efforts, Fontana had somehow bounced back and was stealing Katrina away, or so it seemed to him.  The irony of the situation cut through his mind like a knife; he was definitely not used to losing, especially to someone like Fontana.

What was worse, he realized, was that Katrina had seen him in Waffle's car.  How was he ever going to explain this? Waffle had seen Fontana's car and had reacted capriciously and stupidly before Jacob could stop him, a manifestation of his super–inflated rock star ego.  Jacob turned to Waffle in a fury.  "Why the hell did you do that?" he hissed.

"Whoa, hold on a second there, prick.  You're the guy who told me all this shit about Carlos Fontana in the first place! You've been trying to stick a knife in him for years! Now you get mad 'cause I played a little joke on him? How did I know your little girlfriend was riding with the jerk?" He flipped his head in dismissal.  "Besides, it was no big thing.  It's not like we hit 'em or something…"

"You came pretty damn close! How am I going to explain this?" Jacob moaned.

Waffle sneered in disgust.  "Look man, Katrina's a Usher.  Fontana's an enemy of the Ushers.  And Ushers always stick together in the face of a common enemy, don't they? So all you have to do is work that angle.  You've probably gotten hundreds of Ushers to hate Fontana, all by yourself.  What's so hard about getting one more?"

Jacob was thinking hard.  Waffle was right; there was a way out.  He hadn't yet tried to turn Katrina against Fontana, knowing that the high–class beauty hated listening to rumors and gossip about people -- but now he had no choice.  It was time to bring every weapon he possessed to bear on this mortal enemy, this lowly peasant who had antagonized him so completely, and Jacob had plenty of weapons at his disposal; his lackey Lukelew had provided him with a generous cache.  When he was done, Katrina would more than understand why they had hassled Fontana.  And she would appreciate it.

What Waffle had said about Jacob having turned hundreds of people against Fontana was pretty close to the truth. Jacob had been absolutely tireless in his campaign to expose the hated, jealous pauper who had invaded his world, spreading hateful propaganda against Ushers, continually spewing out accusations which hit very close to home; Fontana had implicated many of Jacob's father's politician friends and associates in some of his written ravings. He was a stupid, quixotic imbecile who was messing with people who could easily crush him underfoot, and Jacob didn't see why people like him were even allowed to go to his school; they were surely only going to take offense at the inevitable slight or insult that was bound to come their way, trifles which they should just have the good sense to absorb without whining and complaining. And God forbid they should be allowed to come trespassing into an off-limits sanctuary like Westview with their dark, swarthy ugly looks, and absolutely ruin a good Usher woman, ruin her for all men! This was an intolerable offense which cried out for retribution.

"I gotta get back to the studio," said Waffle. "I'm dropping you all off at Rosenberg's." Waffle turned to look at Jacob. "Just follow my advice, Jacob, and she'll be eating out of your hand in no time. Believe me, she'll thank you for opening her eyes!"

Jacob stared out the window and said nothing, his mind racing. He felt his confidence returning to him; he was already planning what he would do and say to Katrina. And his plan was going to work. It always had; it always would.

**************

____________________________________________________________