Tuesday, January 03, 2006
MIKE AND GEORGE
There has not been much news in the past several days. Mainly due to the holidays. The garages have not been open all that much this past week. Carter's was closed both Friday and Monday and so there would be no way for the boys to go down to the shop. Last Thursday morning, Mike called Carter from Mexico. He was down there "picking up some things." He wanted to know if Carter needed anything. Carter told him he needed a switchblade (which is in truth something that he is getting for me). Mike told him that he would get it. He said: "Man, I love you Carter...I love you." (he was obviously quite high). But the point is: he thought of Carter and the call was simply his way of telling Carter that he hadn't disappeared again and that he was just checking in. He told Carter that he didn't know if he would be back from Mexico the following day or if he would stay a few more days, but he did say that some of their friends were still in Van Nuys and he would send them down to the shop. He would be down when he returned (Carter believed it would probably be the following week--this week).
That very afternoon, I was down at Carter's playing guitar. A young hispanic man walked up, saw me, and stopped dead in his tracks. I had a feeling I knew who this was. He asked Carter if he would come over to his truck so he could talk to him (from what I know about many of these people, they won't talk about anything to Carter in front of people they don't know). I continued playing guitar and Carter and this man began bringing things into the shop that this man was obviously giving to Carter. The guy gave me a shy smile as he passed. I continued playing guitar. Carter caught my eye and held my gaze. Carter and I know each other well now...and I knew what he was communicating to me in that look. No words were necessary. He was telling me: this is George. I stayed cool. I continued playing guitar. Finally, Carter came back to the shop. George had left with the promise he would return the first part of next week for the papers. The things he had dropped off: they were all gifts to Carter...tokens for what he was doing for George and his friends. The message: Carter was in their favor.
At his truck, George had asked Carter: "Who is that girl?"
Carter said, "That's my daughter, George."
George said, "Wow. She's...really really nice."
We all know what that means. George finds me in his favor. Which according to Carter is a very good thing. The irony of all of it: George lives with Mike and their house is where Clint is staying right now. George probably went right home and told the boys: "Did you guys know that Carter had a daughter? You should see her. She's fucking hot."
Carter believes the boys may be coming around the shop now more because of me...and that's exactly what we wanted...
I have now met one of Clint's friends...I hope that Clint is next...
Updates will follow...
There has not been much news in the past several days. Mainly due to the holidays. The garages have not been open all that much this past week. Carter's was closed both Friday and Monday and so there would be no way for the boys to go down to the shop. Last Thursday morning, Mike called Carter from Mexico. He was down there "picking up some things." He wanted to know if Carter needed anything. Carter told him he needed a switchblade (which is in truth something that he is getting for me). Mike told him that he would get it. He said: "Man, I love you Carter...I love you." (he was obviously quite high). But the point is: he thought of Carter and the call was simply his way of telling Carter that he hadn't disappeared again and that he was just checking in. He told Carter that he didn't know if he would be back from Mexico the following day or if he would stay a few more days, but he did say that some of their friends were still in Van Nuys and he would send them down to the shop. He would be down when he returned (Carter believed it would probably be the following week--this week).
That very afternoon, I was down at Carter's playing guitar. A young hispanic man walked up, saw me, and stopped dead in his tracks. I had a feeling I knew who this was. He asked Carter if he would come over to his truck so he could talk to him (from what I know about many of these people, they won't talk about anything to Carter in front of people they don't know). I continued playing guitar and Carter and this man began bringing things into the shop that this man was obviously giving to Carter. The guy gave me a shy smile as he passed. I continued playing guitar. Carter caught my eye and held my gaze. Carter and I know each other well now...and I knew what he was communicating to me in that look. No words were necessary. He was telling me: this is George. I stayed cool. I continued playing guitar. Finally, Carter came back to the shop. George had left with the promise he would return the first part of next week for the papers. The things he had dropped off: they were all gifts to Carter...tokens for what he was doing for George and his friends. The message: Carter was in their favor.
At his truck, George had asked Carter: "Who is that girl?"
Carter said, "That's my daughter, George."
George said, "Wow. She's...really really nice."
We all know what that means. George finds me in his favor. Which according to Carter is a very good thing. The irony of all of it: George lives with Mike and their house is where Clint is staying right now. George probably went right home and told the boys: "Did you guys know that Carter had a daughter? You should see her. She's fucking hot."
Carter believes the boys may be coming around the shop now more because of me...and that's exactly what we wanted...
I have now met one of Clint's friends...I hope that Clint is next...
Updates will follow...
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