The Forgotten.

By Crtwriter and Cristian Romero de la Torre

Money is power; it is the new god of today.
The richest and most powerful believe they are invulnerable, but for every billionaire there are about 800 homeless. Can their money protect them from them?
From living on the streets of Los Angeles to pulling off the biggest heist in history.
They won't be able to forget it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cistian Romero de la Torre
• Release date: May 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224501243

Book preview

Dedicated to all ‘The Forgotten’, to all those that society has excluded, to the abused, the marginalized and the rejected, do not worry, everything can improve and you are not alone...

Cristian Romero de la Torre © Copyright 2024

1 — MacArthur.

This madness began on June 4, 2023.

At that time I was living on the street, a situation that had been going on since 2020.

In winter I used to take shelter under a famous bridge in Los Angeles, if you live in the city you will have crossed it at some point. I’m not going to say its name, as I don’t want it to become a landmark and for those who call themselves ‘influencers’ to go there to have their pictures taken and bother my acquaintances.

When I was there I would set up a tent and a bunk bed, and we would burn what we could find inside barrels to take shelter from the cold.

In the summer it was different, the weather in Los Angeles is pleasant so I used to frequent outdoor spaces. Transportation was easy, what little I had fit in my backpack, and I moved around during the day in search of handouts, food and charity.

As I said, it was the morning of June 4 when it all began.

I was at MacArthur Park, the park located in the Westlake area.

I used to go there a lot, I like its central lake, it is an unusual haven of peace in the bustling city. During those days, observing the behavior of the birds became my greatest hobby. I also enjoyed its green areas, and I was not the only one, many homeless people also frequent it.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning, I was sitting on a bench, when I noticed a man watching me. He kept a certain distance, but did not take his eyes off me.

At first I ignored him, but his persistence began to make me uncomfortable. Tired of feeling his eyes on me, I decided to do the same and started looking at him.

We both stared at each other for more than a quarter of an hour, until he decided to come closer.

He was a handsome man, with thick, grayish hair, just like his neat beard. He dressed elegantly, not opulently, but he had good judgment in his choice of clothes and color combinations. The most ostentatious thing he wore was his watch, I don’t know if it was a replica or authentic, but if it was an authentic piece I’m sure its value exceeded five zeros.

As I watched him approach I separated my shoulders and widened my chest as much as I could to look intimidating. He didn’t look like a threat, but caution never hurts.

As I tell you this story I will relate the conversations as accurately as I can, evoking each word as clearly as I can.

Once in front of me, he greeted me.

—He bowed his head slightly.

—Hello... —I replied warily.

—I'd like to talk to you, do you think we could leave the park and have a coffee?

— Why...?

—Because I want to talk to you. —He smiled discreetly.

— What about...? —I couldn't see my face, but I'm sure my expression was one of distrust.

—I have a proposition to make to you.

— To me...? —I replied incredulously.

—Yes, to you.

I hesitated, I didn't know what to answer. There are two types of people who approach a homeless person, those who have good intentions and those who don't, and at that moment I didn't know which type I was dealing with.

— Do you have something to do? Think about it for a moment, you lose nothing by talking to me. And I'd be happy to buy you breakfast. With a hot coffee and a doughnut everything looks clearer, don't you think?

I nodded discreetly.

—Follow me, please. I know a coffee shop nearby that's very nice.

He started walking, and I followed him. As he had mentioned, I had nothing better to do, and I liked the idea of having a hot coffee.

He was ahead and I was a little behind, I didn't trust him, I didn't trust him and I didn't know his intentions.

We walked to the exit of the enclosure in complete silence, sometimes he turned to make sure I was with him, but he did not add anything else during the trip.

The cafeteria was very close to the park and we arrived in less than a quarter of an hour.

The terrace was huge and many of the tables were occupied. For the past few years I had avoided crowded places, in some twisted way I blamed myself for my situation and felt ashamed in the presence of others. My sneakers full of holes, my worn and smelly clothes, my disheveled hair and dense beard, everything about me exhibited precariousness and showed my hardship to others.

He sat down first, I watched the patrons of the place, many looked at me, in their eyes there was bewilderment and condemnation. That's why I didn't usually go to certain places, because those looks were like a silent sentence.

The waitress approached the table and asked what we wanted to drink, at no time did she look at me, all her dialogue was towards my companion.

—We want coffees, doughnuts, I want toast with avocado and cheese. —He looked at me. — What would you like?

—That's fine...

—No, you have to have a big breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day. —He joked, making the waitress smile. — Bring us pancakes with syrup, chocolate muffins and scrambled eggs with bacon.

—Right away. — She withdrew.

—What a head of mine, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Joseph Whitman. —He extended his arm toward me.

—I'm... I'm Bruce. —I shook his hand.

—I know. You're Bruce Edward Campbell.

The surprise must have shown on my face and it didn't go unnoticed by Joseph.

—I know, it must seem strange to you that I know who you are, but understand, if you're going to make a proposal to someone, one like the one I'm going to make to you, you must know them beforehand.

— ... — My misgivings grew and I didn't want to answer him.

—I know who you are and I know your history. But that's not a bad thing, you know, I see potential in you.

—Who are you... —I mumbled with some disdain.

—I'm an opportunity.

The intensity of the moment was overshadowed by the incursion of the waitress, who deposited a large part of the order on the table.

We both looked at each other, as if searching for a glimmer of truth in the other.

By the time I realized it, the waitress had returned to drop off the rest of the orders.

—Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, what do you say we eat, and then we'll talk.

Her idea seemed reasonable to me, because when I had the food in front of me, my mouth began to salivate, the smell was intoxicating and my stomach took over my mind.

I nodded and we began to eat.

He drank his coffee, leisurely, enjoying every sip, then ate his toast and a bagel with the same parsimony. On the other side was me, gorging myself, I'm not going to pretend, I pounced on the food with a voracious appetite, everything looked great and tasted just as good.

When we finished he pulled a cigarette case out of his jacket pocket and a box of matches.

— Would you like one?

—I don't smoke...

—I shouldn't, but I still like to smoke one on occasion.

I nodded indifferently.

—Well... —He used the match to light his cigarette and then blew it out. — I guess you have questions, don't you?

—Yes... You say you know me, but I know we've never met, I'm sure.

—You see, I have a friend, his job is to find things out. He gave me the information.

— What information...? —I asked with some disdain.

—As much as can be known. I know your story well.

—Oh, do you? —I said with a poker face, trying to look impassive.

—Yes.— He affirmed emphatically.

—Tell me, what do you know? —I remained calm.

—I know you were born in Utah, April 8, '83. I know you were a literature professor in San Diego. I know that your wife left you when Sofie happened....

My face uncrossed as I listened to him, I felt my heart stop in that instant. Joseph's figure seemed even more enigmatic.

—I'm sorry for what happened to her. Leukemia is horrible..., no child should have to go through something like that. And no parent should have to outlive their child.

— Who...? Who are you...? —I mumbled in confusion.

—I am someone who understands your pain. I'm someone who knows the world isn't fair.

I was unable to insist, I was overwhelmed.

—I know you invested everything you had in her recovery. What father wouldn't? —He looked at me with a certain admiration, the way no one had looked at me in a long time. — I know the insurance didn't cover the treatment, I know you went into debt, and everything you owned was repossessed.

— How do you know so much...? —I questioned fearfully.

—I've told you, I've investigated you.

— And why did you do it...? I'm nobody.

—We're all nobodies, Bruce. —He enunciated with the utmost seriousness. — And I checked you out because I wanted to make sure you deserved what I wanted to offer you.

— And what's that supposed to be?

—A chance, redemption, making the world a little fairer place.

—I don't understand... Why don't you just talk straight and stop with the platitudes?

—Not now, not here and not now. —Not now. But soon.

— When...? —I replied with discomfort.

He didn't answer, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. He rummaged through the inside and pulled out a card.

He handed it to me, placing it in front of me. On it was a time and address.

—Tomorrow. If you're interested, come.

— And if I don't want to...?

—No problem. If you don't come, at least we'll have shared a nice breakfast. —He smiled, I'd say honestly, because I didn't sense any meanness. — But I recommend you weigh it up, opportunities are not plentiful, and I think I can say that you have nothing to lose, right?

—Yeah... —He was right, and I knew it.

—Regardless of what you decide, this is for you. —He took five hundred dollar bills out of the same wallet he'd taken the card out of and put them in front of me.

— Why...?

—Because good people deserve to have good things happen to them, too. —I noticed he glanced sideways at his watch.

— Five hundred dollars for nothing? —I asked suspiciously.

—In exchange for you thinking about my offer. —He smiled before gesturing to the waitress.

— Can I get you anything else?

—No, thank you. Here you go. He handed her a hundred—dollar bill, identical to the ones he had given me. — Whatever's left over, keep it as a tip.

— Thank you very much, sir!

The clerk left and Joseph got up from his seat.

—I hope to see you tomorrow, Bruce. But it's up to you. —Again, he extended his hand to me.

—Thank you... for breakfast.

—You're welcome. —He smiled at me one last time before leaving.

I also left seconds after he left, my presence in the cafeteria was inappropriate if he wasn't there.

With my backpack on my shoulder, and with more doubts than certainties, I retraced my steps, returning to the park.

2 — A purpose.

Since Joseph's unusual visit, he had been deep in thought, pondering what had happened.

I was convinced that this supposed opportunity he was talking about, would be something indecent and surely illegal. But to be honest, the truth is that at all times I considered going to the appointment, Joseph's figure had been as captivating as mysterious. I wanted to know more.

Besides, there was a phrase echoing in my head, 'what have you got to lose?'

I had no family, no home, no job; no mission, no purpose. I couldn't be any worse off than I already was.

I barely slept for an hour that night, uncertainty and nerves always keep me from falling asleep.

Should I go, could it be a trap, why not show up? The questions swirled around in my head.

When dawn broke I reread the card, the address sounded vaguely familiar, I asked an acquaintance who also lived in the park and he told me it was on the outskirts. There were three hours left until the appointed date, when I convinced myself.

I will go, I said to myself, is there anything stopping me? It couldn't get any worse, I repeated to myself several times in order to treasure the necessary aplomb to go into the unknown.

I thought about getting cleaned up before the appointment, but time was short, and I didn't want to waste the money Joseph had given me, I thought it was unlikely that I would ever have such an amount in my hands again.

To get to the address I had to take several buses and walk a few miles.

When I located the indicated place I was stunned, it looked like a fortress, the outer walls were so big that you could not see anything inside.

I approached the communicator and knocked, just once, briefly and quickly. I stood in view of the camera.

They answered immediately, I recognized Joseph's voice, he just said, 'go ahead'.

The gate opened and allowed me to look inside.

The house was huge, modern in style, smooth walls in an egg white, neat and clean. The lavish construction had a large garden.

I walked up to the entrance, and a few seconds later Joseph came out to greet me.

— Bruce, how nice to see you!

—Hello,— I greeted him with much less effusiveness.

—I admit I had my doubts, I thought you weren't coming.

—I'm curious...

—Come in, please.

He escorted me through the interior of the house, the rooms were spacious and very bright, there were many mirrors scattered throughout the rooms, but I did not see any personal objects, just a few decorative elements.

—Sit down, my house is your house. —He said as he reached the living room.

—Thank you... —I sat on the edge of his chaise longue sofa.

— A beer?

—No, thanks. I don't drink anymore.

—You don't smoke, you don't drink, that's great. I'd like to be like you. —I don't know if he meant it or if he meant it condescendingly. — Can I offer you something? Juice or cold water?

—I'm fine, thank you...

—Perfect, if you change your mind, let me know.

Joseph sat in the single—seater armchair in front of me, he looked very comfortable.

— Are you going to tell me why I came?

—Straightforward, without preamble, I like it. —He sat up slightly. — You know, it is estimated that in