CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2021

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Chapter 39

Jacob Rosenberg was feeling his mood improving, as he walked down the winding path from the foot of Viewpoint Hill towards the emerald-colored luxury sports car that sat proudly at the curb of the street a short distance away. For months his mind had been working feverishly on a plan to revenge himself on the two greatest enemies he had ever had to face; the vermin who had attacked him so viciously, he could hardly enjoy his gilded life anymore. Carlos and Katrina.

And an excellent plan had indeed come to him; a diabolically clever plan. It would take much effort and money to pull it off, but it would work. And it would all be worth it in the end; Jacob had come to realize that some things were just more important than money, and justice was one of them.

As Jacob approached his car, he suddenly saw something that made him recoil in his tracks; the bluebird that had mocked him earlier in the day had followed him down from the top of the hill and was sitting on the front of his car, like some kind of living, breathing hood ornament. As he came to an abrupt stop and stared, the bird turned its head and gave him the same disapproving look it had given him just a few hours earlier. Enraged, Jacob bent down and picked up a large rock. Without thinking, he furiously hurled it at the foul animal as hard as he could. The bluebird saw it coming, and was already lifting off before the stone left Jacob's hand. It flew effortlessly away to the safety of an azure summer sky as the rock impacted and bounced off the front of his Beamer's hood, making a small dent and taking away a good chunk of paint with it.

"Goddamn it!" Jacob screamed in frustration, taking advantage of his empty surroundings. The outburst was well justified; he had been in torment for months, after having been brazenly kidnapped, terrorized, and forced to agree to a humiliating demand to stop his vengeful campaign against Carlos Fontana, all brought about by a woman who had not only asked for every hurt Jacob had inflicted upon her "man," but had deserved even worse pain. Then the kidnapper/hit crew had driven away and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no money or credit cards, and with no idea of which direction to go in search of assistance.

And that had only been the beginning of what had turned out to be the harshest and most frightening night Jacob had ever experienced in his spoiled, luxurious life. After Jacob had attempted to get help from some foul gutter animal on the street and the jerk had attacked him, chasing him for blocks before finally landing a humiliating kick to Jacob's fleeing ass, he then cautiously made his way back to the same location that his kidnappers had left him in. The huge plant or factory or whatever it was, whose concrete lot seemed to have no ending, had seemed to be the safest place for him to wait out the night, before seeking help from whoever showed up the next morning.

But he had been wrong about that; a little while after he had laid down on the hard concrete, curling up into a ball to retain warmth against the cold wind, he had heard the unmistakable sound of an old, on-its-last-legs car chugging towards him. Alarmed, Jacob had quickly moved further back into the shadows to hide, as the car came to a stop. He had heard the sound of car doors opening, glass bottles clinking and breaking, and loud, dumb-sounding voices talking and laughing; this had gone on for a torturously long time, annoying the crap out of him. Jacob had just wanted to be alone with his angry, miserable thoughts, and had consoled himself by fantasizing that he had a machine gun by his side, to mow them all down if he so desired.

His annoyance had slowly turned to fear as he listened to his fellow trespassers getting drunker... and scarier. He had heard the sound of a woman's voice, but it wasn't crude-sounding like the other voices; it sounded intelligent. As he continued to listen from his hiding spot, he gradually came to realize that she was the victim of a kidnapping, just like he had been -- but her kidnappers had no intention of scaring her and then leaving her alone, as Jacob's had done. These animals were after more vile entertainment. Her voice had started out sounding calm enough, but had started to rise in fear as time went on. At first Jacob could not make out the words, only their ugly, cruel voices; but after awhile the noise had begun to resound loudly throughout the lot, as the animals began to terrify their captive. Her pleas and cries had cut into him like a knife, as he cowered in the shadows listening; it was the most horrible experience Jacob had ever had to endure.

The party had continued for over two hours, and Jacob had been forced to listen to the woman being gang-raped by her jocular captors. He had seen this many times in movies and television shows, being a huge disciple of the Usher entertainment industry, and had always kind of gotten a mean kick out of it; but somehow having to listen to it in real time had shaken him to the bone. After a while he had clapped his hands tightly around his ears and tried to go to sleep again, curling up as tightly as he could against the cold night wind. But he could not shut out the annoying commotion no matter how hard he tried; he had felt enormously grateful when the animals had finally finished with their party and had packed it up and driven off, their victim's pleading voice fading away along with the sound of the departing car's motor.

Then he had mercifully fallen asleep for a little while... only to be awakened by a rude kick to his leg. The morning security guard had arrived and found him curled up sleeping on the pavement, and had assumed he was just another grunt nobody, a homeless transient looking for a place to spend the night and piss all over the place -- the guard had not been pleased. When Jacob had attempted to explain his situation, the guard had at first refused to even listen; he had pulled him up to his feet and begun pushing him toward the exit driveway in the distance, cursing him. It had taken some time for Jacob to get the moron to understand what had happened to him and to summon help.

Jacob winced as he suddenly remembered that he had completely forgotten to tell the guard about the previous night's criminal activity that morning, so anxious had he been to get the hell out of there and back to his luxurious world, after enduring the worst experience of his pampered life. For a second he wondered what had happened to the poor woman; he felt something like a twinge of guilt for a brief moment. Then his mind focused back on what he was going to do to get revenge on Katrina, to hurt her, to repay her for all the pain, humiliation, and heartache she had caused him. And as always, the answer came to him quickly: simply do Carlos. It would devastating to her, and as for Jacob himself, it would be safer, easier, and less... painful.

Painful? As he looked up at the beautiful, slightly cloud-strewn sky, something drew him back in time, to a painful place in his memory that he avoided like self-discipline. It was the night that government spy/creep Lukelew had hoodwinked Jacob into paying him a thousand dollars to watch Katrina pull Carlos into bed with her. He hadn't been able to look away, as the sordid scene unfolded, but the worst part was not the sex. Something else had hit him, like a screaming, flaming rocket launched from the depths of hell, something he had recoiled from in terror and forced himself to forget out of sheer pathetic necessity.

In between long bouts of depraved "lovemaking," the happy couple had engaged in some small-time pillow talk, that had turned into not-so-small talk as Jacob heard his name being mentioned. He had leaned in forward to hear every word, but it hadn't been necessary; it was all coming through perfectly loud and clear, just like their abysmal animal panting.

Katrina was telling Carlos all about Jacob and his long, poisonous campaign against Fontana; how he had been attacking Carlos for years without his even being aware of Jacob's existence; how assiduous he had been, and what kind of money he had actually spent trying to destroy Carlos's reputation; she had even tried to explain, obviously as gently as she could, that Jacob had not only gotten unknown surveillance agencies to invade Carlos' home and privacy, but that he had also gotten someone to fabricate pictures, movies and sound recordings depicting what appeared to be himself in somewhat embarrassing situations ­­-- and he had spent more money to spread these items around. Then she had ripped Jacob's soul apart when she had offered to finance a huge lawsuit against him, a well-grounded lawsuit that might have completely ruined him if successful, so vast were the damages she was proposing to claim for Carlos. And Carlos had just laughed the whole thing off.

"Girl, if I took time to deal with every little worm that's out to get me, I wouldn't even get a second to eat. Don't worry about this little maggot." Then Carlos had gone back to nibbling on Katrina's neck.

"Wait a minute, Carlos! This is very serious! You have no idea how dangerous this person is... he's insane! And he has money... and power, he's part of some kind of evil cabal!" Katrina was desperately pursuing her aim... to destroy him! But Carlos had refused to even listen... he couldn't care less about Jacob! As if Jacob were beneath his notice, and not the other way around! To him, Jacob was just another pesky thing, like a mosquito! Nay, lower than that! Carlos would have noticed a mosquito. To Carlos, Jacob was like some little unseen virus; always lurking out there, but... nothing you can do about it really, so why think about it? Some thing not worth wasting his time over.

Jacob slowly resumed walking towards his car, looking at the damage he had inflicted on the elegant, beautiful machine. Unlike Katrina, it could easily be fixed, he thought. In the end, it was Jacob's admirable love of elegance and beauty that made him reject the idea of damaging Katrina, in spite of her spiteful, vicious nature. There was something about her that mystified him; some paradoxical contradiction, some kind of inexplicable madness about her, and this strange thing she had done to her life. He had realized for some time that Katrina was more than just a little bit different than him; there was something frightening about her, something... hard. Something that would not bend, like an animal that just wanted to be free of a trap. It was something that Jacob suddenly realized wasn't in him at all, something visceral, something hardcore, yet very real. Something... noble.

Jacob felt a shudder go through his body, as the revelation rocked his consciousness. No; no, Katrina was not like him at all, and now that he had seen it clearly, he realized that he could not deny the truth of it, ever again. It would always be with him, from this moment on; but to dwell on this epiphany for more than a second was dangerous... extremely dangerous. He had to put it out of his mind, and quickly. He had to run from it.

Glancing at his watch, he suddenly realized that he'd been absorbed at Viewpoint Hill for several hours, lost in thoughts of glorious vengeance. It was time for him to meet Waffle at The Spot, that expensive and trendy restaurant/bar in the middle of Westview Village. Climbing into his car, Jacob quickly gunned the motor to life and threw it into gear, stomping down on the gas pedal, making his rear tires screech and spin before they caught the road and rocketed his vehicle forward down the wide, winding road to town. As he drove along, Jacob went over the plan he had laid down for Carlos... an intricate plan that would require much groundwork, and a good deal of money. An expensive endeavor...

Suddenly his search-engine mind was sent reeling off in a happy direction, as he thought of the fortune he was soon going to inherit. His father, who had been diagnosed as terminally ill by his doctors, was about to pass away; it would happen very soon, and his entire estate was coming to Jacob. He was the sole heir, his mother having died so long ago he couldn't even remember her anymore. Her face was a vague, blurred image in the fading depths of his memory. But his father...

Jacob suddenly felt a pain in his chest. He was exhilarated that he was soon going to be, in his mind at least, fantastically rich. But the way he was getting the money... it seemed so sad. He had recently come to realize that his father had never really been there for him, either; he had been absent most of the time, a distant, important, mysterious, busy, busy, busy shadow of a father figure. But Jacob had always derived a sense of security knowing that he actually had a real father who cared and provided for him, and could get him out of any trouble he might find himself in. Now he would have to be his own father figure... but of course, he would always have the assistance of a large reserve of money.

Jacob's thoughts returned to his vengeful designs on Carlos. He knew that Fontana was embarking on a major concert tour across the country, and the time to do it would be when he was far, far away from Jacob; that way he could never be implicated in the crime he was contemplating... murder. But to do it while Carlos was performing... or about to perform... or maybe when he was taking his big bow, after an exhilarating, triumphant performance... that would be the icing on a very delicious cake.

Jacob could get Carlos' upcoming tour itinerary easily enough; he and Waffle Shimmerman had friends in the music business who always had knowledge of that kind of stuff. He could find out other things through the moguls too, like where Carlos would most likely be staying, where he would be eating... and when and where he would be playing. Jacob would plan this thing out carefully, just like a big-time Usher operator would. He would have to keep his usual people out of it, though; a mistake in the design could mean a jail sentence, with no daddy bigbucks to rescue him anymore.

Jacob needed to do this thing the way he was planning; he needed this kind of revenge on Fontana, this kind of poetic justice. The bastard had just gone too far, had hit him too hard; he needed to neutralize the impact somehow, anyway he could, and he had the means to do it -- so why not? And this time it would be final... final and cathartic. But he was starting to become more paranoid, and aware... he would keep all of his friends out of this campaign; no one else would know about it, so it could not be traced back to him in any way. He would do things right this time.

This one was for keeps.

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Copyright 2006, 2021 by Charles Adrian Trevino.