CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2021
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Chapter 46

Outside of his hotel room, Carlos could hear the sound of honking car horns melding with the noise of the rumbling trucks crossing the intersection down the street; the late afternoon city noises were competing with the voices coming out of the television for his attention. He smiled as he took another cautious sip of his hot coffee as he perused the newspaper in his hands, The New Herald. Television watching had become, in his spartan mind at least, the foremost act of self-debasement a human being could commit; but on this day, Carlos felt obliged to sit and watch the news, as well as read it.

The events of the last three days and nights could have come straight out of a lunatic's wildest fantasy. His friend and super-heroic cohort, that dashing illustrious warrior David Slasher, was at this very moment sitting in a small cell in the county jail. After being dropped off at the nearest police station by kindly fans whom they'd met at the concert venue they were all fleeing, David and Carlos had both been arrested. After admitting to the police that he had killed two heavily-armed men that were threatening his friend's life, Slasher had been booked for murder; it seemed that the police had received calls that two rock-star terrorists had caused a riot at a local entertainment center, had gunned down two innocent concert-goers in their drug-deranged frenzy, and had escaped into the night, heavily armed. With that kind of setup, they had actually been lucky that they weren't shot on sight; however, for some mysterious reason Carlos had been released that night. He had been told not to leave the city, pending further notice.

The following morning, quick as a flash, all the news outlets were screaming about the carnage; how the two crazed barbarians had set off bombs and started fires, then opened fire on the terrified crowd, killing two and setting off a panic stampede with countless casualties. The fact that the two "innocent" dead men had been clearly seen carrying deadly weapons by witnesses was completely covered up by the media, which had once again put their own personal spin on the facts... this time by altering and omitting them. Things had not looked good for David... or for Carlos.

Carlos had been deemed safe enough to release back to the public, because of an occurrence that seemed like a miracle: some strange rich creep who had attended Westview College with Carlos had been arrested and charged with planning and underwriting the murder of none other than Carlos himself. Then he had recalled the name... Jacob Rosenberg. It was the same creep that Katrina had been trying to warn him about, on that first skyrocket night they had spent together; some little worm-boy that he had casually dismissed. But Katrina had been right about this particular enemy, this Jacob devil; he had almost taken Carlos' life, and would surely have succeeded, had it not been for Slasher's heroic intervention.

But what was even stranger was that according to The New Herald, Rosenberg had been exposed before the murder attempt by his own former close friend, who was also from Carlos' old college in Westview; the snitch's name was Bill Bronsky, and he had overheard Jacob gloating about financing the upcoming murder while mindlessly drunk. Afraid of his own apparent involvement, Bronsky had gone to the police and told them what he had heard. Then, to top the whole mad affair off, Bronsky had then dragged none other than rock star Waffle Shimmerman, the grossly over-decorated son of legendary songwriter and performer Magic Shimmerman, into the broiling mix. Bronsky claimed that Shimmerman had prior knowledge of the attack also, but remained silent about it; this had serious consequences, of course. Shimmerman had denied the accusation and made a statement to that effect, then quietly withdrew from the public eye for a while; he was busy working on his next record, he said.

The next bizarre twist occurred when Carlos' music journalist friend Nat Patrick, who had surfaced again at the new startup paper he was now reading, The New Herald, revealed the truth about what had really happened that night. Nat had exposed the "two innocent music lovers shot by crazed rock stars" media myth, providing detailed facts and quotes from reliable, identified sources. One of his revelations was quite astounding; a reliable witness had stated that super-mogul David Geeken had paid the mainstream news agencies millions to cover up the fact that guns had been found on the two "innocent" slain concert-goers. A day later, after the witness had repeated his charge and gone into hiding, those same papers had gotten the story right and published a new, corrected version; guns had indeed been found, but there was no conspiracy; the two innocent dead men had turned out to be two not-so-innocent rage-rockers, Fontana-haters, gone berserk. No mention was even made of David Geeken -- end of story.

Nat Patrick had also interviewed Frank Fortune, who'd accused Rothman-Loews Arena of complicity in the attempted murder of Carlos, and had demanded a thorough investigation under public scrutiny. Then Frank went even further, suggesting that the concert hall was controlled by the same unnamed entity that owned the radio station chain that had driven his brother, the famous disc jockey Wolfman Johnny, to take his own life. This had quickly caused an uproar; both Rothman-Loews Arena and the manipulative radio station chain had threatened Frank with massive lawsuits, unless he publicly retracted his baseless, defamatory accusations. They also threatened to withdraw their participation in any future business dealings with him, throwing a wrench into his tour's promotional gears.

The eagle-eyed Nat Patrick had quickly discovered and published this tasty bit of information, providing documentation to confirm Frank's suspicions that Wolfman Johnny's radio station and the Philadelphia Rothman-Loews Arena were both owned by the same corporate entity, whose core family-related members occupied key positions on their board of directors. The major media newspapers then immediately reported that the lawsuit against Frank Fortune had been dropped... but only because Fortune had recovered from his temporary insanity, had apologized, and had issued a full retraction of his baseless allegations. Needless to say, Fortune had been livid; forced to cancel all future shows that were scheduled at Rothman-Loews locations, he was frantically working to re-arrange the tour's itinerary -- now having to keep in mind that some venues were inherently more hazardous than others, of course.

This change in plans hadn't actually bothered Carlos, not as much as it would have before the attempt on his life occurred; it was true that he had been in a big hurry to get his hands on his first significant pile of money, something he could work with, and start building his own privileged little dynasty. Financial independence had always been his main imperative, his number one goal, and his pursuit of this quest had been thrown off course countless times, intentionally, by the Ushers; this had only served to strengthen his resolve. But now everything had changed. Time spent with Katrina had completely overtaken his value system; quality time, to be enjoyed with the person he loved above all other things, was what mattered most. Making money could take a backseat now... he had learned a hard lesson about life's values and priorities, and had grown from it. In a strange way, he was grateful that the terrifying incident had occurred.

It had bought him some extra time to spend with Katrina after the wedding, in what was promising to be their happiest episode together ever; their beseiged, but still very hopeful marriage to one another, and their fresh, brave new start in life. Then the rescheduled tour would resume, the money would start flooding in again... and he would soon be free! And happy, as well! Things were actually looking good for him -- if he could continue staying one step ahead of his jealous, hateful enemies. And he would be empowering himself to do just that, with every step forward that he took. Carlos was feeling more confident now, and much stronger.

He picked up his coffee cup; the drink was getting cold. Sighing, he set it down on the table in front of him. Rising up from his chair, Carlos slowly stretched his arms outwards and exhaled. Picking up his remote control, he gladly switched off the television, enjoying the less-disturbing sounds of the crowded city life outside his window. He still had a few details to take care of with the authorities, before leaving Philly -- Slasher was due to be released any time now, having been cleared of the charge of murder, among other crimes, and he was mad as a hornet over his absurdly prolonged detention. Carlos was awaiting his call, and was going to go pick him up soon. On their flight back to the west coast that night they would vent and commiserate with each other, and lay plans for Carlos and Katrina's small but well-crafted wedding. David was to be the honorary best man, having edged out Carlos' long-time surfer friend, Troy Winters.

Carlos cracked a little smile. The distinction had given Slasher a nice buzz; his face had lit up when Carlos had asked him. Best man! At a wedding of the two people David had previously thought were the oddest couple he had ever seen together, but now had come to admit were a match made in heaven: Carlos and Katrina. A wedding that almost didn't happen -- but now it would go ahead just as planned, all because of David Slasher, superhero! David must be looking forward to that at least, as he sat in jail, thought Carlos.

As his mind started to drift back to the horror of the murder attempt a few nights past, Carlos quickly forced himself to block the disturbing thoughts out. It made no sense to dwell on what might have happened... what would have happened... had Slasher not intervened; it could happen again, at any time. But this time, it seemed that justice had prevailed; the villain had been found out. He was safely behind bars, and there was ample evidence to keep him there for years. He could no longer hurt Carlos, or Katrina; at least not for a good, long while.

Or could he? Just how well-connected was this creep? Nat Patrick had said that he was some important diplomat's son... if he was friends with big-time Geeken, it wouldn't surprise Carlos if the little worm was released upon society after only a year or two; or maybe he might beat the rap entirely! Anything was possible, when big Usher money was involved; anything.

Carlos picked up his coffee cup once more and shook it gently, watching the liquid swirling around. Then, sighing again, he raised the cup and drained the contents. It still tasted good cold... good blend. Tomorrow morning he would be enjoying his coffee with his beloved Katrina, making big plans for the future; he was not going to let any demons lurking in his closet dupe him into passing up the best things in life... not anymore.

Those self-destructive days were over; life was precious now -- and life was uncertain. From this point on, Carlos would live every single day of his life... as if it were his last.

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Copyright 2006, 2021 by Charles Adrian Trevino.