Prologue-Tequila Sunset
April 21, 1976
It was an
exceptional day to get married or to die. Some would muse, what’s the
difference? It’s just another perfect day in paradise; commonplace for
Land’s End, Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.
Maria Alvarez
is an alluring Spanish beauty, with long locks of auburn hair. She
struggles in the sultry spring afternoon, preparing video equipment
for a glorious event. The repeated flipping of her curly mop wrenched her
neck, as it continued to curtain her vision.
“Err, I cannot
work with this Barbie hairdo!” Maria exclaimed.
Maria grabbed
a black magic marker from her bag and wrote, Steven’s Wedding 21/04/73–
Cam 2, on the spine of a VHS cartridge, then inserted it into a video
recorder.
A floral entwined alter is
perched on a pristine white sand beach, against the glassy,
aquamarine sea. The combination is the perfect “money shot” ambiance for
the ceremonial footage. Maria mounted the recorder on a tripod and
rotated the arm. She focused on the giant stone Arco, Lover’s Rock, and
Divorce Beach. The three landmarks encompassed an anchored
vessel.
“Ah, la
ironía,” she smiled.
Pachelbel’s
Canon started and stopped in the background as the DJ ran
soundchecks. Maria took a deep breath. The sweet scent of
honeysuckle permeated the area. The ceremony is scheduled to begin in a
little more than an hour, right around sunset. Maria surveyed the
grounds and smiled. This is what they pay through the nose for. She reflected.
In the
distance, a 33’ yacht named In the Chips, buoys in the translucent
shimmery waters of the Sea of Cortez. On the upper deck is Johnny
Fabicinni. His stunning face displayed a devilish grin as he rose his
lanky arm with a glass of champagne, saluting Beau Garrett and
Stacy Menteri.
“Por los
pinche turistas!”
Stacy got a
befuddled look. “Huh?”
“Here’s to the
fucking tourists!” Said Johnny.
Beau gave
Stacy a droll look. “When in Mexico...”
They toasted
and took huge gulps. Beau got a wide-eyed look just before letting out
an inhuman belch. Stacy choked on her laughter and sprayed Veuve
Clicquot on Johnny and Beau. They laugh hysterically.
Beau wiped the
splatter off his chiseled face and took another drink.
“So, what are
we going to do with all of this loot?”
Johnny
stared off into space for a few seconds before returning to the
planet. “I’ve got some ideas. A casita in Barcelona, a Dino
Ferrari, sitting around in my underwear all day. You know, regular rich
guy stuff.” Beau smirks. “You’re going to give up going commando
now? What a sacrifice. I mean seriously.”
Johnny focused
for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know, it hasn’t sunken in yet. My priority,
of course, is pops.”
“It’s at
that stage?” A slightly somber Beau replied.
“Yeah, I found
a facility for him, and I’ll move him there as soon as we get
back.” “I’m so sorry Johnny. You know how fond I am of your
father.”
“Yeah Beau, I
know. By the way, he wanted me to thank you for the weekly cigar
packages.” “No problem, it’s my pleasure.”
“Promise, if anything ever
happens to me, you’ll keep an eye on him. Everything is set up
through the lawyers.”
“Of course, I
will. But come on, what could happen?”
Stacy
interjects, “Enough with the serious stuff guys! I can’t believe we did
it. Hold on, I have presents for us!”
Stacy opened a
black silk sack and removed three matching brown rope necklaces. Each
one had a golden spiral charm with a computer chip pressed into it
and the Fabicinni company logo incorporated into the design.
The boys
nodded with approval and bent over slightly while Stacy placed each one
around their necks, and then one on herself. They clanked glasses
as they toasted.
“You do like
them.” She beamed a toothy smile.
Beau’s smile
turned inquisitive, “Thanks beautiful, they’re fabulous, but hold on,
what do you mean we? I put this deal together.”
Stacy turns to
Beau, “Yes, but Johnny created the chip architecture, and his dad
bankrolled the whole thing.”
“And it
wouldn’t have gone anywhere if I hadn’t brokered the deal with
Technologic, but back to my point, what are we going to do with all
this stinking dough? I’m thinking, nightclub.” Stacy perked up, “I don’t like
it. I love it!
We can call
it, BJ’s.”
“That sounds
like a whorehouse,” Johnny proclaims sarcastically.
“No silly, for
Beau and Johnny’s!”
“I know, I
know, but it should be, JB’s then. It has promise. I like music, drinking
and ...” Beau interjects. “Corruptible women!” “Oh, come on, me?”
“Yes, you John
Juan!”
Stacy’s
cheeriness turned to a frown,
“Really
Johnny?”
Johnny shifted
his head sideways like a dumbfounded dog and formed a pouty face.
The blood
orange sun is setting into the horizon. Johnny, Beau, and Stacy are all
in a relaxed state, rooted in deck chairs around a mahogany table,
taking in the briny air and the smell of success. Beau lit up a Cuban,
took a big draw, and blew a smoke plume in Johnny’s direction. He
stared at Johnny with a mix of fondness but mostly disdain. Johnny is
oblivious, as his steel-blue eyes are mesmerized by the early
evening starry sky.
Stacy perked
up as she heard the familiar sound of wedding music with a Mexican
flair. She bolted to the rail and looked off the port, toward the
colorful lights dancing on the beach. “Ah how romantic, they’re getting
hitched. What do you think Johnny?”
“Suckers.” Johnny mumbled
in his normal disinterested tone.
Stacy rolled
her eyes and grabbed her stomach and trembled. “Ew, I don’t feel so
good. I’m a little nauseous and freezing.” She folded her arms
covering her perky breasts.
Johnny stared
at her shivering, athletic body. “Yeah, we can see that.”
Beau sprung
up, grabbed his tattered MIT sweater, and wrapped it around her. “Here
you go darlin’.”
Stacy winked
at Beau, “Thanks hun, at least someone here is a gentleman. You
know what guys, I’m going to hit it. Too much sun and liquid fun.
Enjoy yourselves, you deserve it.”
Johnny smiled.
“Okay, babe. sweet dreams, of me.”
Stacy shook
her head and turned away from Johnny. She grabbed Beau’s face and
gave him a big kiss.
“Night Beau.”
She turned to Johnny.
“Night,
jerk.”
Johnny
snickered and eyeballed Stacy as she walked below deck.
The boys are
showing increasing signs of inebriation. As the last swig of a bottle
of Cuervo ran down Johnny’s throat, he yelled man overboard as
he chucked the empty tequila bottle in the water.
Johnny refused
to call it quits. He opened a storage locker and grabbed another bottle
of Mexican fire water. Beau is overly annoyed and can’t hold it in
anymore. He confronts Johnny. “She hasn’t told you, has she?”
Beau stuck out
his shot glass and extended it toward Johnny. A shot was poured,
however, more spilled on the deck than went into the glass. “Tell
me what?”
“She’s,
late.”
“Who, what
the...?”
“Stacy, for her period you dick! You better do the right thing, this time. I’m tired of watching you churn these girls inside out!” Johnny threw back his shot and slammed the glass down on the deck, shattering it. “Oh really? That’s news to me, and that is a problem, for her.”
Johnny leaned
into Beau’s impassioned face.
“That’s not
possible. I can’t have kids. Stacy doesn’t know.”
“That’s
Bullshit!” Beau rants.
“So, it can’t
be mine. Maybe I should be the one asking questions.” Said Johnny. “I
don’t believe you.” Scoffed Beau.
Johnny poked
his finger repeatedly in Beau’s chest and stated. “It’s-not-really-any-of
your-business!”
“I know you’re
still hung up on her, but you blew your chance. You don’t have the right
equipment pencil dick, so back off!”
Beau swatted
Johnny’s hand away and gritted his teeth and backed up a step. “As
a matter of fact, I do care about her, you dirtbag. Somebody needs to be
looking out for her!”
“It doesn’t
matter what you want, she’s with me now and I’ll make sure her ‘problem’
is handled before it wrecks that tight little body.”
“God damn it
Johnny, you frickin’ asswipe! “And I can wipe your ass out any day,
Beau-re-gard!”
“Is that
right?”
The boat is
rocking back and forth from the shifting tide casing both Beau and Johnny
to seesaw.
Beau inhaled
deeply on his stogie. I’ve had enough. Beau violently flicked the
cherry tipped projectile at Johnny, causing him to flinch. Beau
lunged his stocky body forward and flung an uppercut. Johnny ducked,
vaulted forward, and wrapped his long, wiry arms around Beau. They
tussled for a few seconds.
Beau escaped
Johnny’s grasp. The vessel shifted forcefully upward, causing Johnny
to lose his balance, hurling him backward. Beau stabilized. He
lurched forward and landed a left hook to Johnny’s jaw. A stunned
Johnny stumbled back. He landed squarely on the glass shards created
from his earlier tantrum, causing his feet to skate uncontrollably on the
debris. He fell back, glanced his head on a deck cleat, making an
audible thud. A wide gash opened on his forehead, down through his eye to
his cheek, creating a quickly growing pool of blood beneath him.
Johnny was out cold, laying on his side with his back on the edge of the
deck facing the interior of the ship.
Beau charged
to the immobile Johnny. He drop-kicked him in the stomach, causing
Johnny to recoil and roll off the deck. As he fell, his rope necklace
wrapped around the same cleat that had impaled him, hanging Johnny
for two tantalizing seconds until the clasp snapped, sending the
necklace flying. Johnny plunged into the water, face up and lifeless.
Beau looked down at the powerless, floating Johnny.
Beau’s
expression suddenly turned from rage to panic. A rush of fear swallowed him
as he realized Stacy might have awoken during the commotion and bore
witness. He rushed to examine the cabin doors. His anxiety subsided
after verifying the coast was clear. The access doors below were still
shut.
When he
returned to the port rail, Johnny’s body was barely above the water. With
one last gasp, Johnny’s eyes opened wide, and his hand lifted
slightly from the water as mumbled. “Help me, Beau.”
Beau looked
directly into Johnny’s almost spiritless, sorrowful eyes and did nothing but
stared.
Johnny’s
expression turned blank. His mouth filled with water as he immersed into
the Aegean abyss of the sea. Beau gazed at Johnny’s final bubbles
of life rise to the surface of the water.
A few minutes
passed. Beau snapped to attention and composed a plan; the first step
was to wash the blood off the deck. Then he doused Johnny’s
sweatshirt with tequila and threw it in the lifeboat, along with the
empty bottle and Johnny’s broken necklace.
He unhooked
the motorized dinghy, started it, then launched it away from the yacht
toward the ocean.
Beau pulled up
In The Chips anchor and set sail west, away from Johnny’s deep-six
liquid grave and the uninhabited lifeboat.
As he pulled
away, the faint sound of a Mariachi’s rendition of You’re My Best
Friend played in the distance. Beau recognized the song, and he
felt a pit in his stomach; the realization and the potential consequences
slammed him hard, but he brushed it off. He took one last glance
into the waters behind him.
“Adios, pinche turista.” He smirked.
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