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.”
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,
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.
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?”
“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, his face flush and puffy. “She didn’t want to spoil the trip (cough, cough) for you. And what is so surprising? Take some fricking responsibility for once!”
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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