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CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2021
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Chapter 47

"Carlos, do you think this train is too long?" asked Katrina, skipping across the room towards him, a beautiful white silk and lace wedding gown train in her hands. "I'll probably trip on it when I get nervous, knowing me..."

Dropping his paper, Carlos quickly rose up from his comfortable chair, a smile forming on his face. Ignoring the garment, Carlos grabbed Katrina instead, pulling her in close to him and kissing her again and again. Laughing, Katrina struggled to free herself for a few seconds -- then gave in to his amorous assault, the lace train falling gently to the ground beside them.

Katrina had been out of her mind with anxiety when the phone call had come; an assistant of Frank Fortune's had informed her that an attack had been made on Carlos at a concert, but that he and David had escaped and made it to the police station, where they had both been immediately arrested for murder, falsely. Carlos was fine, though; the matter was being cleared up, and he was still looking forward to their wedding on Saturday morning! Then the man had gently but abruptly terminated the call, explaining that he was extremely busy; she would be kept updated, regularly.

Her mother had been out at the time; Katrina had frantically started dialing numbers, and the story had begun to unfold piece by piece. According to breaking news reports, the drug-crazed Carlos and David had been accused of inciting a riot and shooting two innocent fans, then fleeing in a hijacked car, which she knew was completely false from the start. At the same time, she was also receiving accounts from radio and television stations that they'd been captured, arrested and charged with murder. It seemed as if no one source actually knew what had really happened.

Because Katrina ordinarily shunned most commercial television and radio offerings, she had mercifully missed the stream of Carlos and Katrina cartoons that had been appearing sporadically in the middle of regularly-scheduled programs. But she had inadvertently seen one of them, while waiting for a meeting with her boss; it had interrupted a news program on the television. Disgusting as it had been, she had not let it overly upset her at the time; no one else had been in the waiting room with her to see it. Besides, she had learned not to put anything past the Ushers that controlled the media. Upon hearing the details of the attack on Carlos that night, Katrina had become nauseous with dread when she'd realized that the sick dogs behind the disgusting cartoon had been gloating, about what they were planning to do to Carlos, at one of his own concerts! They were one and the same people, and they had managed to turn around and pin all the madness on Carlos and David, albeit only for a little while. The whole episode had been absolutely unbelievable... and terrifying.

But Carlos had come back safe, and they were now reunited, and passionately involved... just as happy as two lovebirds sitting on a tree branch in the park.

"Carlos... calm down! We have to talk!" Katrina said, laughing as she pushed him away.

"Ok babe, talk... I'm all ears," said Carlos, acquiescing reluctantly. He had been grabbing Katrina all morning long, just for the sheer joy of doing so; only a few nights ago, he had seen Katrina's face flash before his eyes, for what he had thought was the very last time. It hadn't been, thank God; and now he was reveling in her bedroom with her, safe and sound... for the time being.

"Carlos," Katrina began, her eyes turning serious. "David just gave an interview to The New Herald... he talked about how Jacob Rosenberg had been fanatically targeting you for years, and how everybody knew it except you, and that he personally witnessed a contract-type assault on you, that he suspected Jacob had set up... he said that that big asshole Bill Bronsky guy, you know, that guy who was always with Jacob, personally told him that Waffle Shimmerman knew about the contract Jacob had put out on you, and did nothing. Carlos, now is the time to strike... while the iron is hot! If you go ahead with my lawsuit against Jacob now, you can nail him and Waffle Shimmerman in criminal and civil courts... this is the best time to get a jury to go with you! Carlos, we have to take all his money, and put him away for a long, long time! Or else he might..."

"Sssssshh," said Carlos, gently grazing his fingers over Katrina's mouth. "Wait a second -- let me think a second..."

Katrina's lawsuit against Rosenberg, which he had initially dismissed as a waste of time, was suddenly taking on new meaning as Carlos began to see the logic behind Katrina's gambit. Jacob would eventually get out, and the sick dog might try to get him again... after all, Carlos had stolen his woman. But if the little creep was flat-broke when he got out, it would certainly alleviate the danger he posed. The same logic applied to Waffle Shimmerman as well; he surely had a big bank balance too, although Carlos felt somewhat reticent to go after him. Carlos was a huge fan of his father Magic Shimmerman's music.

And now certainly was the time to strike; the mainstream news outlets had mysteriously ceased all coverage after the truth about the two dead concertgoers had come out, but the still popular and more truthful smaller newspapers were all abuzz with the sordid details of the assassination attempt... and the cover-up, as well.

"Katrina, I think you're right," Carlos said; then, making a sullen face, he said, "As usual, of course. But that's probably the best way to neutralize this creepy little guy... hit him in the wallet! Hell, it's what they do..." Carlos quickly looked down, silently cursing himself. He looked back up into Katrina's face, worried that he had hurt her feelings again. He needn't have bothered.

"That's exactly right, Carlos... and they will try again... you know them. It's the best way, honey, and we should move fast... I've already got things all set up, all we need to do is..." Katrina suddenly stopped; she had just admitted to Carlos that she had already been busy as a beaver, working on her Fontana vs. Rosenberg project without his prior knowledge -- she was afraid he might be angry.

She needn't have bothered. "Oh, excellent! Oh, my!" laughed Carlos. "Wow... no one's ever covered my back like that before... whew!" Carlos raised the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned extraordinarily far back on his heels, pretending that he was fainting in bliss.

"Yeah!" Katrina gave him a big, encouraging smile, moving in for the kill. "And Carlos, Frank gave another interview to The New Herald, he repeated what he said before, that the radio station that killed his brother and those monsters that tried to hurt you were all the same people, the same corporate entity... and now they're suing Frank for 1.3 billion dollars for defamation... among other things," Katrina paused, giving Carlos time to react.

"What the fuh... Oh, excuse me! Did you just say 1.3 billion? Frank must have really damaged them badly! But I just read that Frank said that if they sued him, it would be good; then he could legally subpoena all their documents and records and stuff, prove that they're all in cahoots -- so now of course the media's turned around and they're saying they're not going ahead with the lawsuit, because Frank retracted his charges again, and apologized."

"Yeah, I heard that too; Frank's going to blow a gasket. It's them again, Carlos... the evil cabal! And people are starting to realize it is them. We have to stick to our guns Carlos, stick together and fight them, all of us together! We can't let them scare us, and we can't let them beat us!" Katrina grabbed both of Carlos' arms, squeezing them for emphasis.

"Don't worry, babe... we're gonna' knock 'em dead, all of us," he promised her, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. But his mind was working feverishly now on Katrina's rapidly-blooming idea... a lawsuit! It was sounding more and more like the right way to go; many things were happening in connection to the concert hall attack. Nat Patrick and his team of journalist disciples were digging deep into the cover-up of Jacob Rosenberg's murder attempt, and The New Herald was not afraid to publish their findings; the paper had not been bought up by the Ushers yet. Rosenberg was coming under heavy fire in the smaller, less-controlled newspapers, and even the big news outlets were starting to admit that he had been arrested "in connection" with the assassination attempt; however, none were delving too deeply into the matter. Instead they had chosen to concentrate their coverage on Jacob's friend, the famous rock-star Waffle Shimmerman, who had never even been arrested by the police after Bronsky had incriminated him, and was steadfastly standing behind his accused brother Jacob, praising him to the moon and back in interviews. And Jacob was doing plenty of talking himself, as well...

Upon being placed under arrest and finding himself in jail, Jacob had waited for Geeken or Schidtberger to come to his aid, and whisk him out of there; after all, it was the privileged Usher way. But when no one had contacted him all day, Jacob had blown up and demanded to talk to the detectives. He had angrily told them that Schidtberger and Geeken had led him astray, had encouraged him to attack Fontana, and had provided him with hired assassins, as well. It had been Geeken that bribed the newspapers to cover up the attack, and spread the story that Carlos and David had gone berserk and attacked their own fans, Jacob had said.

Accordingly, both Schidtberger and Geeken had been asked to come down to police headquarters, to sort things out; Schidtberger had done so, and had been dismissed after only a polite ten minute interview, his name completely cleared. Geeken had arrogantly refused several requests to come in and talk, and knowing his evil, well-connected reputation, the detectives had quietly dismissed him, as nobody really wanted to lose their job -- not in these hard times. Geeken had just laughed the whole thing off; it had only served to further convince him that he could get away with anything, even attempted murder... even murder itself. He had secretly vowed to wait until things died down, then try his luck again all by himself, since Jacob had now been rendered useless to him. Geeken was a patient man, who enjoyed his revenge served hot or cold; he could wait.

Carlos grimaced as he contemplated the mind of David Geeken. This was a man he personally despised above any other Usher, even the super-rich Rothman dynasty, who supposedly had beaten the entire world to its knees through their financing of the Longfellow International Affairs Institute, a blatantly-tolerated "think tank" that decided who the various rulers of the countries under Usher control would be. People like Geeken were truly a mystery to Carlos; as much as he tried to put himself in the man's shoes and see his point of view, it always came out the same: this was a man who, from any point of view other than a lowly ape's, was incredibly, intolerably, and absolutely disgusting. His many "knighted" rock-star friends were textbook studies of low class, corrupt, belly-crawling morons, who didn't even have the intelligence to avoid having their pictures taken with the bloated, declasse worm. And the young male wannabee-stars who served him, in hopes of garnering fame and riches, were almost too low to pity... but Carlos still did. It was tragic what a sick, evil Usher could do to a weak or confused person's soul... turn them into a pitiful Usher slave, so that they could hate themselves for the rest of their tormented lives -- a very sad fate, indeed. Involuntarily, Carlos grimaced again.

But Jacob's rock star, Waffle, was doing more than just aggrandizing Jacob; he was also working hard to destroy the credibility of Jacob's main accusers: Bill Bronsky, David Slasher, and Carlos Fontana himself. According to Waffle, Bill Bronsky was a delusional schizophrenic sadist, whose bullying and lying were well-known to his friends and schoolmates. Since he was a personal friend of Bronsky and knew him well, Waffle was able to relate many stories about Bronsky's meanness; he was just the kind of person who would try to get Jacob falsely arrested for murder. As for David Slasher and Carlos Fontana, well, Waffle didn't really know them that well, only by reputation -- and they both had big reputations; bad reputations. Fontana, in particular, was a sadistically mean anti-Usherite who wrote songs trying to make innocent Ushers feel bad about themselves; a veritable monster in human form. As for Slasher, well... he was a blatant homosexual, as well as a bully who knew karate, and he used his fighting skills frequently... on smaller, weaker people, said Waffle. Waffle knew where his paychecks were coming from.

Carlos adjusted his disdainful expression, and looked at Katrina again. She was still gazing at him expectantly, waiting for a word. The beauty that had beguiled, tormented and haunted him for so long, was still drawing him in as powerfully as ever... Katrina's power over him actually frightened Carlos. He had never been able to develop a sense of trust in another person before, and was still terrified of letting his guard down, and getting hurt. But Carlos had come to believe that he had really been a coward all this time, not some proud, noble knight that refused to bend or stoop low. He had been afraid, and he had let his fear dominate him, and deprive him of the most beautiful things in life... things like Katrina.

He was not going to be an angry, frightened coward anymore. The future's promise, a life of love and marital happiness that he had never known before, was just too enticing for him to go running back to the dark emptiness of his life. Now he was running towards the light at the end of the tunnel, the beautiful light that was joyfully beckoning him onwards; he was running faster now. And he was almost there.

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Jacob sat in his uncomfortable metal chair in the talking booth, looking at his friend Waffle through the thick glass that separated them. Waffle had been coming every day to see his best friend, to try to cheer him up with some juicy gossip about their friends and enemies, but Jacob had remained somewhat morose... up till now.

A few days earlier Jacob's father had passed away, leaving him with a large inheritance. The size of that gift had helped to suppress the feelings of sadness, even depression, that had started falling over Jacob at the loss of his only remaining nuclear family member... if his eternally-absent father could actually be called a nuclear family member. Jacob couldn't remember spending a whole lot of time with his busy dad... but the allowance money that steadily flowed in had served to distract him from his father's non-presence. Now there would be more money to distract himself with... a hell of a lot more. The thought of all that beautiful money made him so happy, he just wanted to giggle out loud; he could bear any pain now. If Jacob had known what Carlos and Katrina had in store for him, he would not have been so very happy -- but he didn't, and so he was feeling better.

"C'mon Jake, share some of that good prison food with me... I know you got some in your pockets!" Waffle gave Jacob a friendly leer.

"Aw, fugg off, you little wretch! You know I don't eat that shit... I'm waiting 'til I get out soon; I'm gonna' be eating every meal at The Spot, when I get outa' here!" Jacob's indomitable spirit was still very much apparent, even in prison. That was what Waffle admired most about Jacob; his wonderful, noble spirit.

"But what if they don't let you out, Jacob..." Waffle let the sentence trail off into nothingness.

"Oh, they will, Waffle," Jacob promised his friend. "They will. You know me, Waff; I got my ass covered good. Geeken's going to buy me outa' here, if it costs him a million dollars! I know things about that guy he just wouldn't want repeated. And Schidtberger? He'll come through too, believe me. They both have to help me. And when they do get me out of here," Jacob leaned forward and grinned into his friend's attentive face. "I'll be just as rich as you are, asshole! Ha ha ha!" He laughed mischievously, winking at Waffle.

"Oh, then I might have to tap you for a little loan once in a while, Jake! Especially if Bronsky keeps yapping about me... what I know about things. That jerk might just get me in here with you, man," said Waffle, a look of semi-concern coming over his face.

"Naw, don't worry about Bronsky... he'll come around, with a little... persuasion, you know. Besides, he's not even a Usher! Don't worry about that guy, Waff. He's nothing... just a big sack of shit."

"Oh, I see... so you'll take care of him for me, eh Jakey old boy? I know you're experienced in these types of matters," Waffle's leer was turning into a sneer.

"That's right, Waffey... I am experienced now! And as soon as I get outa' here, I'm gonna' put that experience to good use... on some very deserving people." He returned Waffle's sneer, surpassing it; he was confident he would soon be out, once he started pulling strings and threatening people -- Schidtberger and Geeken were going to have to be reminded once again that they were dealing with a mind that was artful and cunning... much more so than their ploddingly slow, uninspired little minds.

Jacob's contempt for fools knew no limit.

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Copyright 2006, 2021 by Charles Adrian Trevino.