Barsoap - Life Behind Bars Vol. 1

Tequila Sunset

April 21, 1973

          It was an exceptional day to get married or to die. Some might argue it’s the same thing. 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 wrenches her neck, as it continues to curtain her eyes.

          “Err, I cannot work with this Barbie hairdo!” Maria exclaimed.

          A floral entwined alter is perched on a pristine white sand beach, set against the glassy, aquamarine sea. The combination is the perfect “money shot” for the ceremony.

          Maria grabbed a black magic marker from her bag and wrote, Stevens Wedding 21/04/73–Cam 2, on the spine of a VHS cartridge, then inserted it into a video recorder.

          Maria mounted the recorder and activated the auto-zoom. She rotated the tripod arm and pointed it in the direction of the giant stone Arch, Lover’s Rock, an anchored vessel, and Divorce Beach.

          “Ah, la ironía.” She smiled.

          The ambient scenery is a great background for B-roll footage.

          Pachelbel’s Canon stops and starts in the background as the DJ runs soundchecks. Maria takes a deep breath. The sweet scent of honeysuckle permeates the atmosphere. The ceremony is scheduled to begin in a little more than an hour, right around sunset. Maria surveys the grounds and smiles. This is what they pay through the nose for. She mused.

          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. He displays a devilish grin on his handsome face and raises his lanky arm with a glass of champagne, saluting Beau Garrett and Stacy Menteri. 

          “Por los pinche turistas!” 

          Stacy gets a befuddled look. “Huh?”

          “Here’s to the f*****g tourists. That’s us!” Said Johnny.

          Beau gives a droll look to Stacy. “When in Mexico...”

          They toast and take huge gulps. Beau gets 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 laughed hysterically.

          Beau wiped 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 Ferrari Dino, 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 focuses for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know, it hasn’t sunken in yet. My priority, of course, is pops.”

         A slightly somber Beau replies. “Is it getting worse?”

          “Yeah, I found a facility for him and I’m going to move him there as soon as we get back.”

          “I’m sorry Johnny. You know how fond I am of your father.” 

          “Yes Beau, I know. By the way, he wanted me to thank you for the weekly cigar packages.”

          “No problem, my pleasure.”

          “Promise, if anything ever happens to me, you’ll make sure he’s taken care of. I had the lawyers set it up that way.”

          “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 design and the Fabicinni company logo embossed in them. The boys nodded with approval and bent over slightly while Stacy placed each one around their necks, and then one on herself. She felt good about her splurge; their glasses clinked with another toast.

          Beau’s smile turned inquisitive.

          “Thanks, beautiful, they are 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 of this stinking dough? I’m thinking, a nightclub.”

          Stacy perked up. “I don’t like it. I love it! We can call it, BJ’s.”

          “That sounds like a whorehouse,” Johnny mutters 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 turns to a frown. “Really Johnny?”

          Johnny shifts his head sideways like a dumbfounded dog and puts on a pouty face.

          The blood orange sun is setting. Johnny, Beau, and Stacy are all in a relaxed state, sitting in deck chairs around a mahogany table, taking in the briny air and the smell of success. Beau lights up a Cuban, takes a big draw, and blows a smoke plume in Johnny’s direction.            

          He stares 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.

          The familiar sound of wedding music with a Latin flair captured Stacy’s attention. 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 rolls her eyes and grabs her stomach. “Ew, I don’t feel so good. I’m a little nauseous and chilly.”

          She folded her arms covering her perky breasts.

          Johnny stared at her shivering, athletic body ambivalently.                            

          “Yeah, we can see that.”

          Beau jumped up, grabbed his shaggy 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 smiles. “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 watched Stacy’s ass jiggle until she was out of sight below deck.

          The boys are showing increasing signs of inebriation. As the last swig of Jose Cuervo ran down Johnny’s throat, he yells man overboard while chucking the dead soldier into the water. He salutes it.

          “Thank you for your service.” He laughs.

          Johnny refuses to call it quits. He opened a storage locker and grabbed another fresh bottle of tequila.

          Beau has become 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, motioning to Johnny. He poured them shots, however, more spilled than went into the glasses.

          “Tell me what?”

          “She’s late.”

          “Who, what?”

          “Stacy, for her period you d**k! You better do the right thing, this time. I’m tired of watching you churn these girls inside out!”

           Johnny throws back the shot and slams the glass down, shattering it on the deck.

          “Oh really? That’s news to me, and that is a problem, for her.”

          Beau wobbles across to Johnny, his face is flush and coughing.

          “She didn’t want to spoil the trip (cough, cough) for you. And what is so surprising? Take some fricking responsibility for Christs’ sake!”

          Johnny gets in Beau’s face.

          “That’s not possible. I can’t have kids. Stacy doesn’t know.”

          “That’s Bullshit!” Yells Beau.

          “So, it can’t be mine. Maybe I should be asking you some questions about that.” Said Johnny.

          “I don’t believe you.”

          Johnny poked his finger repeatedly in Beau’s chest. “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 d**k, so back off!”

          Beau swats Johnny’s hand away and grits his teeth. 

          “I do still care about her, you jackass. 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’re a frickin’ asswipe!

          “And I can wipe your ass out any day, Beau-re-gard!”

          Beau flicks his lit cigar at Johnny, lunges his stocky body toward him and launched an uppercut. Johnny ducks and wraps his wiry arms around Beau locking him up. They tussle for a few more seconds. The boat is increasingly rocky from the shifting tide and is making it difficult to remain steady. Beau slips out of Johnny’s grasp.        

          The vessel shifts again, more forcefully, causing Johnny to lose his balance, stumbling backward. Beau sees an easy opening, advances, and lands a right hook to Johnny’s jaw. A stunned Johnny stumbles back another step.    

          His feet came out from under him and he slid uncontrollably on glass shards that he had created earlier. He fell, gouging his head on a deck cleat, and then bounced on the deck. A wide gash opened on his forehead and down his face, creating a quickly growing pool of blood beneath it.

          Johnny was barely conscious, laying on his side with his back on the edge of the deck facing the water.

          Beau charges to the groggy Johnny. He kicks him in the stomach repeatedly, causing him to recoil and plummet off the deck feet first. As he’s falling, the rope necklace catches on the same cleat that had impaled him, hanging Johnny for two tantalizing seconds until the clasp snapped, sending the necklace flying onto the boat. Johnny splashed into the water, lifeless. Beau gaped down at the helplessly 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. He rushed to examine the cabin doors, but the anxiety subsided after verifying the coast was clear. The access below was still shut tight.

          When Beau returned to the port rail, Johnny’s face was barely above the water. With one last gasp, Johnny reached his arm up slightly and mumbled. “Help me.”

          Beau looked directly into Johnny’s nearly lifeless, sorrowful eyes and did nothing but glare. Johnny’s mouth filled with water and he faded into the Aegean abyss of the sea. Beau watched Johnny’s final bubbles of oxygen rise to the surface of the water.

          A few minutes passed and Beau composed a plan; the first step was to wash the blood off the deck. He then doused Johnny’s sweatshirt with tequila and threw it in the lifeboat, along with the remains of the bottle.

          He unhooked the motorized dinghy and nudged it away from the yacht. Beau then pulled up anchor and took the In The Chips a few miles north, far from Johnny’s deep-six grave.

          As he pulled away, he could hear the faint sound of Mariachi music. Beau recognized the song. It was You’re My Best Friend. He felt a pit in his stomach, as the realization and the potential consequences slammed him hard, but he brushed it off.

          “Adios, pinche turista.” He smirked.