Chapter 23. Carlo meets Dave. Friday March 9th, 2019. Day #8.
Carlo told me every time I wasn't home at noon he walked down the street to a deli that he really liked. He wanted to take me there and buy me lunch. At 1pm the lunch rush would be mostly over we walked down the street on Venice Boulevard near the 405. They sold hot sandwiches and some Asian specialties but it was mostly sandwiches and soups. They had an excellent selection of Banh Mi on good crusty French bread. I ordered an Italian version of a Vietnamese sandwich. He got a pork Banh Mi and beers to go. We walked home with my stomach growling, the walk seemed to take forever.
After lunch we walked back to the motorcycle dealer, he made an appointment for his 600 mile break-in service which he should reach next week, and we purchased another bike just like his but mine will be all black with tiny yellow pipes, while his was burgundy and black with lime green pipes. This dealer added the accent lines, it was not a Yamaha option. They were hand painted by a local artist.
After we got back and I was in the bathroom he spread a large beach towel on the floor and set out a tube of lotion and two water bottles and some paper towels. He turned off the lights and pulled the curtains shut. When I got out of the bathroom the apartment looked like it was night time. He took off my clothes and pointed to the floor, then took his off too. I was on my back, my knees up to my chest, he fucked me hard and came inside me and then relaxed on me for a while to cool off, then did it again.
After his second orgasm he sat on my thighs and jerked me off by hand. By then it was dark outside and we showered and went to bed early. We'd walk to the dealer tomorrow and get the bike, I told them we'd be back in a couple hours but I guess we didn't make it that day.
Saturday March 10th, 2019. Day #9.
We walked down to the dealer and got my bike this morning, they wondered why I didn't come back yesterday. The sales manager said it didn't happen very often that a new bike wasn't picked-up on time! I told him I was busy, but I didn't tell him I was busy being fucked on the living room floor by my Mexican boy friend (and possibly someday future husband). I had to admit to myself that since Acapulco Carlo had been 100% trustworthy and a pleasure to be with. I only wished he'd stop wearing shirts at home without me asking.
I remember one time last year we discussed him not wearing shirts and he confided that he worried that I'd become accustomed to his body and stop craving him. I told him there was no chance of that happening. I admitted he was the main actor in my fantasies when I masturbated, which I guess was awkward to hear.
After we got back to the apartment there were two boxes from Amazon with the clothes I ordered for Carlo, I washed them after he tried them on, including the stretchy shirts that fit literally skin tight on him and showed detailed contours of his body. Now he could walk around the house with that on and still be covered. I thought he would wear it during the day when he rode down to the Santa Monica Boardwalk so he could strut around and show off his body. The bad part was it accentuated his love handles and showed that his belly stuck out further than his limp dick. Maybe I would be the only guy that found that look attractive.
At the deli at lunch today they offered him a job while we stood there in line and he complimented the functional layout of their serving line and back kitchen. He said he could do it as a very part time job, maybe five hours a week and they accepted his terms. Carlo said he didn't want to be paid, he just wanted something to do because he enjoyed working in kitchens, that and the business was locally owned, not part of a chain.
That afternoon I got an email from my friend the PI in Saint Pete, he had most of the stuff I wanted about Dave and Carly.
The records he got from Guatemala and Seattle said he was hit hard on the head (from behind) and suffered brain damage and was partially paralyzed now (which was slowly resolving), he walked with a cane and had trouble remembering and talking clearly. She was stabbed, her body was found days later and recently flown home to the USA, re-autopsied, and buried without the family seeing her corpse, supposedly it was in bad condition because insects were rapidly devouring it.
His grandparents owned Davis Wood Products and his parents owned a 290 acre winery (Rainier Wines) and were building a B&B to cater to the growing W&B&B tourism. Her family owned a lumber company (WDP Inc) that made treated wood for outdoor construction, both families had estimated wealth in eight figures (up to 99 mil). Despite the two kids there was no connection between the companies, the families were casual friends but not business competitors.
He got me street addresses, home phone numbers, and office contact information. I paid him $300 for the info.
The report he emailed me said Dave and Carly graduated from Tahoma High School, he was currently living at his parent's house, a very large old estate near the winery. Dave's family also owned miles of timberland southeast of Seattle, closer to Hobart, Washington. Parents ran the winery, grandparents ran the lumber company, David was an only child would eventually be worth nearly 100 mil, but that was decades away. The report said the winery was in business going back to the early 1900s but closed their doors during prohibition. Their house was the actual original winery so they built a new modern facility while they replanted portions of the farm in the 1990s because of a grape leaf fungus outbreak.
The report said their medical records from Guatemala showed she was found days after her body was dumped in the weeds along a highway, she had two stab wounds to her lower torso which caused massive blood loss. One coroner comment said she was likely dead before she hit the ground. It appeared he was hit with something, probably a hammer blow (or replica medieval war hammer) to the rear/top of his skull.
The impact fractured his skull and caused brain bleeding which caused clotting and a stroke. He was hospitalized and had brain surgery in Guatemala that day then flown back to Washington by medical air transport two days later and spent five days in the hospital and was slowly recovering but had no memory of what happened. He regained consciousness during the flight home. Her body was found near where farmers found him but since he didn't wake up he couldn't tell them about her. Nobody looked around the area, which in itself was a clue as to what happened and who did it. They assumed the bloody drag marks were his blood.
The report on his injury also suggested the person that hit him with the hammer might have been a woman, he saw her approach but didn't see her as a threat. According to the CT skull images it appeared the person that hit him wasn't very strong and wasn't very tall, maybe 5'4" at most, those numbers suggested a female. It said he was faced away from her and never saw it coming, suddenly it was lights out for 2-3 days and he woke up strapped to a cart inside a medical evacuation jet. His medical records said when he woke up he couldn't talk and appeared to be in pain because he grimaced, cried, and his heart rate was high, so they gave him 5mg of IV morphine and IV Zofran too, he slept the rest of the way to Seattle.
The report said David was home from the hospital now and went to a clinic for physical and cognitive therapy three times a week. Carly was buried the day after she returned to Washington from Guatemala. She had been autopsied twice. She bled to death quickly and was marked cause of death: murder. But they had no suspects, motive, or witnesses. In that part of Guatemala there were plenty of unsolved murders, the police were largely ineffective.
The police report at the hospital in Guatemala said they thought the pair was hiking along Guatemala State Highway-CA2 (trying to get a ride to Tapachula, Mexico) and stopped near an unmarked industrial building trying to thumb a ride (with semi truck drivers) but there was a suspected meth making operation in the building. People in the meth factory feared they were government agents and killed them for standing there for too long.
I nearly cried after hearing his report. He said he emailed me the full report an hour ago.
Carlo and I discussed flying his mom here to visit, where she would stay, Carlo said he would research it.
I typed a one page letter to David Davis and mailed it to his parents address.
I got Carlo to get dressed and we walked down the street with the bag lady cart and went to Ralph's Foods and bought groceries again, two cases of beer, fabric softener, dish detergent, more dish washing stuff even though we had a dishwasher now, and we got more condiment type things because they had a good selection for Asian food. Ralph's had a hot foods bar and since we had the cart we bought dinner too, which was chicken-rice, spring rolls, pork dumplings, and fortune cookies. Despite being cooked with chicken the rice looked like it had lots of tomato and spices added and was very nice. Carlo said he thought it was tomato with diced green chili peppers too. We also bought a smaller counter top rice cooker for home, more soy sauce, and an electric spice grinder too.
By the time we left the store the weather had changed dramatically and it was cloudy, the temperature dropped, the air outside smelled like the ocean and a thick fog bank was moving in. It was nice that we could walk down Venice holding hands, we couldn't do that in Saint Pete and be safe, here it was common to see same sex couples holding hands.
That evening he found the closest hotel to our apartment and priced three nights and airfare from Tampa to LAX, in a package he reserved tickets for his mother in late May (7 weeks from now), and texted it to her. She'd arrive on a Thursday afternoon and leave Sunday at lunch time. Fly first class both ways, and stay at a 3-star hotel four blocks away by the 405 freeway. Carlo said he expected his mother would be coolish but respectful towards me so I knew it was coming, she was old school Catholic and not very open towards gays, including him. He said if the situation presented he might confront her about all her rules from when he was a child, things his parents did not allow said out loud.
Since the weather was really weird we decided to sit outside on the balcony and talk, slowly we hauled stuff outside and spread out a blanket and two pillows and lay down on the concrete slab 80 feet above Venice Boulevard and snuggled and talked. After two hours we saw lightning approach and one hour later the storm arrived off the ocean and we had to move back inside. Carlo added lawn chairs to our shopping list, a cheap two-man sleeping bag, and maybe something like a tiki torch to hose clamp to the corner of the railing. He even mentioned that on her first trip here it might go better if I didn't meet his mother (unless she asked), so he could confront her about stuff that mattered. I told him I'd do whatever he wanted except miss work.
By the end of our second week in LA he'd arranged his mother's trip to Los Angeles, I spent one day at work touring the facility and getting signed into their computer network and had some brief training into their scheduling software.
We rode his bike together to a company in Cypress, California to have comm systems installed (by appointment) in our helmets that allowed two-way voice and music (MP3 or AM/FM radio) It also allowed us two-way radio contact with other bikers on the same UHF channels. Those cost $410 installed and we had to wait on the install, so we walked around the area and had lunch at a mom and pop taco stand.
While we sat at a tiny table on the sidewalk someone walked up and asked for directions, I answered in Spanish and saw it click in Carlo's brain that I did speak fluent Spanish, he smiled and watched me explain we were just visiting and didn't know the area, but it turned out she was looking for the helmet sound system factory, so I gave her directions.
"You really do speak good Spanish."
"Uh huh." I replied taking another bite of the beef taco in a hard shell. The entire thing split down the bottom and everything inside fell to the paper. Then I told him, "Ya sabes, por eso prefiero tacos de cáscara blanda." (You know this is why I prefer soft tortillas) Carlo shook his head and mumbled, "Pinche gringo." (Fucking white boy) I held up a finger at him and we chuckled at each other. He finished his taco without crackage. Then he said, "You ain't autistic, you're just too white!" I smiled and replied, "Yep, but only 75%."
While I laughed at his slightly correct statement I looked over his shoulder down the sidewalk, pointed and shouted "La Migra!" Carlo just laughed at my attempt to scare him then flipped me off.
"You realize sir, if we went back two hundred generations we're probably cousins." I said between scoops of taco filling using broken tortilla chips like a spoon.
After lunch we slowly walked back to the factory and got our helmets, they tested fine. I programmed KNX into mine and Carlo said he would order a micro SD card and put his music on it, with this system if you put music in one helmet both could listen independently to it. They told us it had enough charge to use on the way home. It was about 40 miles home on the 405 from Cypress, it took almost two hours because of the traffic. During the day you could nearly drive a 49cc moped on the highways because they rarely got over 40mph. Carlo thought you could drive a 49cc moped on the shoulder or between the lanes and move faster than cars, and get fantastic gas mileage too!
On Saturday a hand addressed envelope arrived in the mail, the letter inside nearly made me cry, we sat on the sofa and read it together.
The letter was from David Davis (I got out the tablet and showed him photos of Dave). He said he was home and recovering from their incident in Guatemala, guess they should have taken my advice seriously. He said they buried Carly last week, he visited her every day and talked to her. That part got me crying a little, so I handed it to Carlo to read out loud.
"It says he's in therapy three times a week, he has a large bald spot on his head from surgery and is lucky to be alive, sort of. Some locals found (smelled) her body in the weeds and called police, she came home and was buried two days later without a funeral." Carlo just said, `Wow, poor guy.'
His note said her body was identified by fingerprints and DNA.
His letter was short and sort of rambling, like it was a series of bullet points instead of a story. I told him he had a stroke and brain damage. Carlo asked if there was something we could do for him and I said we could send him things that helped improve brain skills, memory, and speech, as well as hand to eye coordination so we got online and ordered things like models, puzzles, and used text books. We spent about $340 on stuff and had it delivered to his parent's house with a gift card from us.
"I thought you said his parents were rich?"
"Yep they are, waaaay more than me."
"Can't they help him?"
"Yes but he's very anti-materialistic, he'd probably refuse stuff like we're sending if it came from his parents."
"So what'll he do with our stuff?"
"Probably open them and enjoy them and maybe speed up his recovery."
"I don't get it."
"Well if we gave it to him then it's not his sin or his parents. That makes it acceptable. He'd probably worry about those things causing depletion of the Ozone Layer or some bullshit like that. But if we gave it to him he was free of responsibility because the damage was done by someone else."
"Oh, one of those."
"Yes, keep in mind he's a sheltered rich kid, very naïve and uninformed, so he's idealistic but knows nothing just that it sounds nice when he says it."
"I think I... never mind."
I told him the bottom line was he meant well, his concern was misguided. The kid obviously watched too much TV.
On Sunday we drove to Target to buy me some temporary work clothes, long sleeve shirts, ties, and slacks. We got two of each so we'd do laundry every day. I also had to buy dress shoes and socks.
I'd spend most of the week with different services getting new employee crap done, which was when I was going to investigate insurance for Carlo.
On Sunday Carlo asked about us going to church as a couple, I said no-thanks. Carlo said it would be different here, especially if we went to a Mexican church, and he assured me I wouldn't be the only 75% Gringo either. He said he heard it was popular with gay Mexicans, the priest was a woman and it was very family oriented, plus they celebrated Day of the Dead in November, Dia de Reyes (Jan 5), Semana Santa (near Easter), Navidad y las Posadas (Dec 16-25) and Mexican Independence Day (Sept 15-16) too. I told him I'd think about it.
We rode our Yamahas to a car wash and blasted them clean. His got nasty on the 405 from a broken water main near the highway. Mine was just dusty. His had 551 miles and mine had 110 miles.
Sunday we cleaned the apartment, ran the vacuum cleaner, scrubbed the toilet and shower floor, cleaned windows, and sprayed the mattress and pillows with Febreze while the sheets were in the washer.
Carlo worked around the apartment dusting stuff while wearing a two piece bikini which really made me horny. When he stopped to take a break I had him sit on a lawn chair on the balcony, I was between his legs with my knees on a pillow and spent twenty minutes with my face in his crotch. He came for me in my mouth, then we showered together and I did him leaning against the shower wall.
I told him I should get a large photo of his body from his neck to his thighs in a frame and set it on my desk at work! He said I was nuts for even thinking it. I corrected him: I wasn't nuts I was obsessed.
He said we'd been together for over a year and I still hadn't lost my fascination with his body, which was unusual. I told him I doubted it would ever fade. He said thanks for the warning. I reminded him I'd had fantasies about a guy with a body just like his since I was a child. I felt very blessed for having met him.
He wanted to know how an unmolested five year old boy (me) could have desires for men and I told him I had no idea but those thoughts were definitely there, but I knew enough to never tell anyone. I told him that before I got old enough to date guys I had crushes on different actors.
When Carlo asked which ones my mind sort of went blank but I remembered having a thing for James MacArthur, Joe Dallesandro, and Bobby Jordan.
He said he'd never heard of them, so I told him I'd show him some day. Then I told him Bobby Jordan was buried just a few miles from our apartment in the Los Angeles National Cemetery up on the 405, we should put flowers there sometime.
My work week went predictably. I spent five days (at some storefront HR business several miles away) in meetings and orientation. There were two of us, she was a paralegal and possibly might become my secretary. Her name was Sonia and she said she was originally from Puerto Rico, let me add my comment by saying she was extremely good looking and well spoken.
I asked about adding someone to my insurance and had to use the term: `partner' to the benefits lady. She told me it was expensive but yes, they offered it, so I gave her his full name and date of birth, same address as mine. That coverage cost nearly double what I paid for mine because we weren't married, but then he got a discount for non-smoking and having no medical history.
That week we got signed into their computer network and learned about the appointment scheduler and online research programs, Excel and Word and the database program for keeping notes on clients and projects. The first search I did was my name, then Carlos Silva. Their database listed his name and approximate age, he was from south Texas but that was all it said.
I accepted their laptop but said I was going to actually use mine, which was a very thin Dell that ran Windows-10 I had modified to block Microsoft spying and unwanted updates. My firewall was set to block those programs from talking to the outside world, and I blocked all updates by damaging the windows update program, which had to be done by removing the hard drive and connecting it to an older Windows-7 desktop and removing that program by force. Really, all he did was make tiny changes in the program to cause it to crash he even changed the name of the program so the OS couldn't find it. The IT guy said he ran a service that could do basically the same thing to my cell phone if I was interested. Of course I agreed and in fifteen minutes he edited programs in my cell to kill facebook and all location recording routines. I asked him if he could do another phone I had at home and he said yes, call him and he could drive over and do it for $200 cash. We agreed on a time that afternoon. He said he could do it in his car in about ten minutes or less.
On Tuesday I started driving my SMAX to work, and parking it in their underground garage, they said it was very secure.
Friday they had a catered lunch for us to meet the rest of the firm. Lunch was super uncomfortable for me but I survived and faked being not autistic (neuro-typical). It's not my nature to look people in the eye, forcing fake eye contact just didn't look genuine on me. Even in the bathroom mirror I seldom made eye contact with myself.
I was assigned two clients to meet next week and we discussed the search for class cases, I told them I was already looking. They gave me access to something like a blog where they all donated ideas about possible clients-causes. Many of them were pharma related, especially narcotic overdose cases. I told them those cases were no good because the Pharma companies had more money than the Saudi Royal Family to defend themselves and drag out cases to take a decade. But they wanted me to read their notes regardless this weekend, which I agreed.
On Friday they had my office ready, it had a view towards the southwest. I could even see the roof of the high-rise where we lived, which was cool. I was allowed a budget to make my office more suitable to my tastes but I had no plans. I went home after being re-introduced to the paralegal lady (Sonia) I went through orientation with, my new secretary. We talked about her work history and non-personal things like that. We exchanged cell numbers but I left the cell and laptop they gave me in the desk drawer in my office. As far as I was concerned they were huge privacy risks.
Friday evening after work Carlo felt lonely and needed extra attention. When I texted him I was on the way home he stood on the balcony watching the street with binoculars for when I drove under the I-405 overpass. When he saw me he took the elevator down to the garage and opened the garage gates. I slid off my helmet and got a very nice kiss, the kind of kiss that said he needed to fuck. I could tell when he sucked my tongue into his mouth that Carlo needed the hot beef injection.
In the elevator I held my helmet over my crotch because I was growing a boner. We got off on the 7th floor after I glanced at the mail and saw another box from Florida arrived, that left seven more to go. I think that box had more stainless steel kitchen accessories.
After I finished in the bathroom I went to the kitchen to make some coffee, Carlo walked in and hugged me from behind and told me he wanted to be my slave for the rest of the day. The moment he said that I wished he'd said that Saturday morning instead of Friday evening.
I turned and looked at his eyebrows, he didn't appear to be kidding. I finished loading the coffee machine and removed my tie and went into the bedroom and took off my clothes. I slipped my hand down my underwear then sniffed my fingertips... I was moderately stinky from working nine hours. I'd never tested Carlo's tolerance of sweaty crotch before.
Standing in the kitchen (in my white boxers) watching the machine make one cup of espresso I told Carlo to change into shorts. He came back a couple minutes later only wearing gym shorts. I stood by the counter holding my coffee mug. Carlo purchased us billiards themed mugs because mine had the number 7 on it (usually a solid purple ball), which to him meant the length of my dick. I thought that was sort of funny and cool. His had a 5 on the side (usually a solid orange color).
"Alright slave, I need to know if you need me to shower first." I asked him. Carlo looked me up and down then looked me in the eyes and said he wanted to start right now. Wanting the caffeine I slid my hand down his shorts and held him while I finished my coffee with the other hand. After the mug was empty I put my hands on his shoulders and walked him backwards to our bed and pushed him on the bed and slipped off my boxers.
I got on my knees beside his head and told him to suck my dick, so he rolled on his side, gripped it firmly and took it in his mouth and sucked me like a calf on mom's udder.
I moved my hips a little while he sucked me like a calf.
After a little of that I grabbed his arms and turned him around so he was on his back with his head dangling off the side of the bed, which put his mouth at nearly the same height at my crotch, so I slid my dick in his mouth and slowly fucked his face and leaned over to rub his chest and squeeze his marshmallowy nipples.
I pulled out of his throat and got on bed and took his leaky boner into my mouth, then went to his belly button and licked it a few times, then up to his chest I lip locked on one of his tits and sucked it hard enough to give him a hickey (but I stopped early), I also stretched it by raising my head and pulled it up until he moaned in pain then let it go. I moved up further and kissed him then got back up to standing by his head and told him to jerk me off. With the head in his mouth he jerked my shaft but I came quickly into his mouth. I got on the bed and deep tongue kissed him to get some of my cream back and swallow it myself.
I rolled Carlo on his stomach, spread his legs, reached over to the pump and lubed myself and shoved inside him in one go, which made him whine, but it soon turned into pleasure as I fucked him. It wasn't that often that I could stay hard after coming but it certainly worked that time. I hadn't come all week and was well past due.
He tried his best to bend at the hips to lift his ass at me, and I pounded him hard and came inside him after about twelve minutes. While I worked him he moved his hands to hold onto my hands, we squeezed hands tightly while I pounded him.
My orgasm was very intense, I basically collapsed onto his back and pressed into him hard with my muscles, his head bounced against the headboard as I hit him with each contraction. I made so much semen I was instantly thirsty, which only happened on my largest orgasms.
I backed off the bed and walked to the kitchen, Carlo appeared in a few moments as I finished the glass of water I got from the refrigerator door.
While I raised the glass to get every drop he stepped in close and lip locked on my tit and sucked it hard, I set down the glass and held his face firmly into my chest and moaned he reached down and held my slimy limp dick. It felt so nice having him on my tit.
After a minute of that he released it and stepped back. I set the glass on the counter and we lovingly kissed, he pulled back and whispered that he loved me. I hugged him tightly and rocked side to side a little. Our next stop was the shower. He already had towels by the sink and a candle burning. We turned off the lights and spent half an hour in the shower.
I'd actually not seen Carlo like this before but he seemed almost desperate to make love to me. That week was the first time we were apart since Acapulco, maybe that was his problem.
In the shower under the hot steamy water we held each other in a rather emotional embrace, he whispered, "Let's get married."
I pulled back and stared in his eyes, our noses were so close the view was totally out of focus. I leaned in and gave him my tiny lip tip I Love You kiss and softly whispered, "Okay," back to him, then we hugged again for several minutes. He leaned into me with the side of his face rested against my shoulder.
As we got out of the shower he said my rental suits arrived today, they're in the closet.
After I dried off we went in the bedroom and I got into one without shoes and he said it fit fine, he turned me around to look at my ass too. Then we carefully hung it back on hangars since I had to wear it next week.
A while later we sat on the sofa and he told me about the finalized plans for his mother's trip here in May, she said she didn't want to go to Disney. She wanted to see Santa Monica Pier, the sidewalk with the actor's stars, take a Hollywood bus tour, and eat at In-N-Out Burger. She told Carlo that his uncle's ashes were spread in the Caribbean after he died, that was all she had to say about it, other than the report said he died of natural causes: his heart just stopped while he was asleep. Carlo said he might stay with her in the hotel room while she was here, just to make sure she was safe.
On Sunday I got a call from David Davis in Washington with thanks for sending him the toys, they were great, he especially liked the sailboat model and cars from the 1920s. He said he wasn't going to paint them. I noticed he sounded like (slurred speech) he was drunk but he said that was a residual effect from the stroke. The only thing he had to say about Carly was she's `home now.' I was surprised when he invited me to visit.
I reminded him about the emotional situation I'd been through days before I arrived in Colon and he said he barely remembered hearing about that, and he recalled me talking about my boyfriend and how much I missed him, I even showed them photos of Carlo on my cell. He said bringing Carlo along was fine.
I asked if we could visit for an afternoon and he said that was fine but they could reserve a hotel room for us if we wanted to spend the night. I said we'd visit for a few hours but I needed to get home for work the next day, we discussed dates. I gave them to Carlo and added them to my work calendar. We were going to fly up there in a few weeks early on a Sunday morning and back home Sunday evening. It was a hundred minute flight up the coast from Santa Monica to SeaTac in a regional jet with no first class service.
That afternoon Carlo went through all the photos and video I took of them in Panama. We sat side by side looking at them, one of the shots I took on Gatun Lake was them (from behind) sitting side by side on the cabin roof waving at passing boats. He zoomed in the photo and pointed out an alligator in the water near us that I never saw, but it was clearly visible, I think I was too busy watching Dave's body to notice we were being eyeballed as possible meals.
Sunday evening I put our big beach towel on the living room floor and lubed Carlo with suntan lotion and massaged his naked body, front and back for an hour, after that it was back into the shower. Sliding my hands over his flesh was nearly as wonderful as making a load of semen for him. His skin was unbelievably soft.
That week was routine for us. I worked ten hour days and saw three clients a day for partners that were off work for vacation. During the day I spent time with my office door open and heard two gay accents, one of them was a senior partner, the second was an in-house PI they recently hired. I got medical insurance cards for both of us handed to me in an envelope. Carlo was costing a lot of money to insure since we weren't married. And gay marriage had recently become legal in California. It was the powerful state insurance lobby that was responsible for the law not being passed on two previous ballot initiatives.
As I read their four year long blog about possible class lawsuits I eliminated almost every one for various technical or logistic reasons. The ideal case was out there but they hadn't found it yet. As large as a potential payout could be everyone wanted to contribute so they might earn a big check for little effort.
Carlo worked five hours at the Italian Deli down the street for no money, he just wanted something to keep him busy while I was at work. He told me that evening they had a young gay kid that worked there afternoons one or two days a week that was adorable that he wanted to see naked sometime.
He described the kid as 18-21 years old, Hispanic, six foot tall, smooth, baby faced, slender, and had problems staying focused on work. I asked if he was Mexican but Carlo didn't know because he didn't speak Spanish. He said the kid's name was Joe Martinez and he was very talkative and lived his life on his cell phone. I rolled my eyes at the thought of a life wasted on your cell (I called them Slave Trackers). Then Carlo laughed and said he even mispronounced his own last name, he pronounced it martiNEZ instead of marTInez.
That weekend I was off again. A group of lawyers from work were going to a concert-fund raiser at a local musical instrument museum, in their outdoor stage in the hills, I was the only one not going. Even my secretary Sonia went to the concert. I found out that Sonia was single, never married, 29 years old and had previously worked as a fashion model.
That weekend we rode my bike to the harbor to visit Susan and check the bilge area. Susan's batteries were at 100% so I flipped the charge controller to OFF. We unwrapped my car, removed the battery, and lugged it to Susan to put it in place of one of the ship's deep cycle batteries. Carlo flipped it back to solar charge, and added water to every cell in my car battery. I disconnected all the other batteries except the one from my car.
The bilge was dry but she smelled musty inside. We checked the coolers, they were empty and dry. Everything looked fine, all the cabinets, closets, and drawers were empty. There were a few condiment things in the kitchen we brought home and rode back to the apartment.
He held onto my belt most of the way. We drove over to where I worked so I could show him my office, then I remembered something important and got out his insurance card from my wallet and handed it to him and apologized for forgetting. He slipped it into his and thanked me. I took him inside the office but he said he wasn't impressed with my little office but he noticed I could see the back side of the building we called home from my window. I told him to flash a light at me and I'd probably see it if he could get to the roof or a balcony on the other side, on the upper floors. After touring work we drove to Pink's Hot Dogs (four miles northeast of my office at the corner of Melrose at Le Brea, and the entire parking problem vanished because we were on the scooter). We stood in line for 40 minutes then took our food home. We took surface streets because they were usually faster than the highways.
Another week went by, on Thursday Carlo told me more about his secret work crush, the tall Hispanic kid where he worked with the adorable boy-faced kid. He got the kid to talk to him and found out he was born on a produce farm in the central valley because his parents worked there most of their lives, but they started as migrant farm hands. He said he was born there but his parents had green cards and lived half the year in California and the other half near the Gulf Coast with relatives, but the kid never been to Mexico. He said he only went to the 5th grade and lived in a one room place with his grandmother, he only worked at the deli for spending money.
Carlo said when he took off his shirt to change into a work shirt the kid stared at his chest like he never saw a human chest before. I asked if that was significant and Carlo said no, some people reacted that way but he didn't think it meant anything, it wasn't flirting.
As the weekend of his mother's trip neared Carlo updated me about their plans, she packed a small suitcase, got a passport, and was ready to go. The entire trip was paid, he used my credit card and handed me the cash for the hotel and plane ticket. He said he would cover all her costs while she was here. He was really looking forward to seeing his mom again. I reminded him next week Sunday was our flight to Washington.
May, 2019
Work that week was routine, I saw clients, covered my minimum daily hours with billable charges and kept to myself at work. They were using my secretary for dictation by other partners until I had enough to keep her busy all day.
I drove the bike every day except once when rain was forecast I took the bus. We're only five miles from work at the apartment.
Carlo told me he was running four days a week now, one mile out, one mile back. He said he was checking which streets were the best for running.
He said he liked Walgrove Avenue, it went one mile north and jogged around the end of the airport then kept going north as 23rd Street and ended at Santa Monica Boulevard about three miles north. It was a nice street, residential, with good sidewalks and lots of shade.
Saturday we talked over the phone, I confirmed everything with Dave, he was excited to see us, we were going to take a limo from the airport to his parents house, everything was arranged, even the return ride to the airport. The other thing I did that weekend was to check my car battery in Susan, it was 60% charged on solar power so I would let it go another week or two. I checked fluids and locked the cabin door.
Carlo and I slowly started running together, even on days I worked, even if only for half a mile out and back. It felt so nice to get my legs stretched out again and he made sure I ran daily.
The next weekend Carlo and I flew from Santa Monica Airport to Sea-Tac Airport and took a stretch limo to their home. I paid extra for the limo because of the way their house looked on G-maps.
As we slowly rolled up the rather long driveway I saw Dave limp out the front door with a smile on his face, using a cane to walk. I paid the driver and Carlo asked him to unlock the back doors. While I fumbled with the cash Dave limped to the side of the Cadillac and opened the back door. I smiled painfully hard seeing him I was certain I'd look like a total dork but he was a sight to behold.
As I stepped from the car Dave stood there beaming with happiness and we immediately stepped into each other, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight, he rested the side of his head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly. I heard Carlo shut the other door and the limo backed away down the driveway. Dave dropped his cane and Carlo stepped over and picked it up and stood beside us and our thing turned into a three-way hug. I felt Dave twitch as if he had started to cry, I was nearly there myself.
Finally, he stepped back, Carlo handed him the cane.
With tears on his face Dave looked Carlo from head to toe then spoke, "So this is the famous Carlo." He commented as he wiped tears from his face and held out his hand.
Carlo shook his hand with a smile and said, "Nice to finally meet you, I feel like I know you!"
"What a coincidence," Dave replied and we all chuckled. Carlo jokingly said, "Don't tell me let me guess, this is the first time you've seen me wearing a shirt, right?" And we all laughed loudly, that was very funny because it was true! Most of the guy photos I had in my IPad were taken when they didn't have shirts on.
Confession: I probably had three hundred photos of Carlo and maybe four were taken when he was dressed: Florida Keys, on my apartment balcony in Saint Pete, and at the marina in Acapulco. But it's not my fault that when the camera turned on he usually took off his shirt.
Dave gestured for us to follow him towards their rather large and extravagant, stone-sided house, as we walked up the sidewalk I noticed their vine covered house was enormous and the front yard was immaculate. We walked in the front door to a large living room that was partly open into a dining area. Across the living room I saw a distant wall of windows that looked at the back yard with a very large manicured lawn with pine trees and a nice pond with a water fountain in the center.
"Is there where you grew up?" I asked, as two older people entered the room from the kitchen. We all turned to face them, I noticed both of them had grey hair.
"Mom, Dad, this is the guy I told you about, this is Steven Darrow, a famous attorney from Florida, and this is his friend Carlo. Sorry Carlo I don't know your last name."
Carlo stuck out his hand towards the parents, "Nice to meet you, I'm Carlos Silva, also from Florida."
Then I stepped closer, "Pleasure to meet you, Dave spoke of you during our trip across Panama. I'm Steven Darrow and now I'm from Los Angeles, I was born there."
His parents introduced themselves, his mother asked where I went to law school and I told her I graduated from UCLA at age 23 in 2009, which immediately sent a signal that I was a gifted child, I'm sure Dave already told them I had autism but acted (nearly) normal. We chatted for another minute and his mother asked if I was related to the famous attorney from 100 years ago. I interrupted her and said, "Yes, Clarence Darrow was my great grandfather but he'd been gone almost fifty years on the day I was born." We spoke briefly about his career then they excused themselves and went back towards the kitchen. As they left the room I noticed they were both dressed like they got all their clothes from L.L. Bean. Dave got us seated in a cluster of chairs near windows that looked out on their professionally maintained front yard.
I started the conversation by telling Dave I heard about what happened on KNX. "My heart sunk when I heard the news." Then Carlo scooted forward on his chair and interrupted me by explaining that I could barely speak or function for two days afterward. As he said that I felt my eyes start to water and Dave raised his hand to his face as if he started to get emotional.
Without speaking Dave pushed himself up to standing and turned around and showed us the bald spot on the back of his head with the large backwards C-shaped surgical scar. He didn't offer many details, only a view of his scar. His scar looked like the staples were removed in the last few days. Some parts of the C still had skin tape attached.
"Why the cane?" I asked.
"They said I got brain damage but I'm slowly improving with therapy at the hospital but it's slow. I'm in therapy three times a week but so far my memory has not returned."
"The news story we heard said you were found by some farmers and hauled to the hospital and then flown home." Carlo added.
"Yes, a lot of it's gone from my brain, I was unconscious most of the time. The day after surgery they said I was medically stable, my parents had me flown to Seattle on a medical evacuation jet, then I spent four days getting IV antibiotics and neurological exams. The docs here said they did a decent job in Guatemala, we haven't seen the bill yet. Mostly what they did was stop the bleeding and stabilize the pieces of skull that got crushed."
Then he told us the cops thought he was hit on the head with a hammer, I never saw it coming. "I have no memory of that day or a couple days before and three days after, it's totally gone." Dave told us it appeared she was stabbed by someone standing very close, he lifted it into her lower belly twice, assuming she'd bleed to death quickly. So they let her fall to the ground then she was dragged into the trees near the road and raped by several guys. He said she was probably dead before she hit the ground because they cut a major artery.
He said two farmers drove by and saw him, loaded him in the back and drove him to the hospital. One guy stayed in back with him and pressed on the wound, which kept him from bleeding to death.
It appeared Dave had enough talk about Guatemala, he changed the subject to Carlo and told him that during our trip to Quepos I talked about him every day, I said how much I missed him, he was the best friend I'd ever had. Carlo immediately blushed and smiled but looked emotional.
I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a USB thumb drive and handed it to Dave, "This has all the photos I took of you and Carly and all the video too. You should look at them in private before you let anyone else see, especially the videos."
"Thanks, I'll take your advice." He said with a smile as he stuffed it into his pocket. As he moved I saw several faded bruises on his arms, probably from getting multiple IVs to save his life.
So, what became of Carly?" I asked expecting to hear bad news.
"She came home early this week, she's not far, wanna go see?" He asked with a sad smile. "Sure." I replied while Carlo just smiled. Dave stood up and said he'd be right back, he walked across the house, same way his parents exited earlier. That left Carlo and me alone in their spacious living room. I noticed the room had sort of a castle theme going on, lots of stone, dark timber trusses and window frames, stone floors, some of the windows had iron diagonals crossing the panes and looked like they were 500 years old.
I whispered, "This place is huge." Carlo looked all around the room at the antiques and wall decorations, the room also had a theme of Gold Rush settlers in the 1800s. They had large photographs of 49'ers and tent cities on all the walls, the living room looked like a history museum inside a castle. I couldn't picture Dave racing around the room on his Big Wheel at age five after coming home from Kindergarten.
After a few minutes of whispered comments Dave called from across the room, he asked us to join him.
Contact the author: borischenaz gmail