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| The Hotel California pt. 2 (the finale. of the epic) | Started by: FrankCastiglia on Feb 07, '25 04:09 |
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“Hello BB” Franks voice came through the darkness as the sounds of goats reverberated through the room. More lights flickered on slowly, revealing not only the elegance of the room but the one hundred and twenty five goats that inhabited it. And of course Frank. Frank sat in a black desk chair, his legs crossed, facing Santo. “We’ve been expecting you BB” Frank spoke as he came to an almost startling realization that he was holding and petting one of the smaller goats in his lap. “Get the fuck back in with the rest Thomas!” Frank exclaimed as he tossed the goat to the floor. “Eh, yeh. Probably don’t do that fella.” Santo said, his fists balled. “What are we doing here Frank? Why did you drag all of my goats to California? Let alone the Hotel California? You know this… this is…” Santo couldn’t seem to find the words to say it. “Where we last saw Bob? Is that it BB? Is that what you’re finding such a hard time to say? IS THAT ALL THE FUCK YOU’RE HUNG UP ON!? THESE STUPID ASS GOATS AND BOB????!!!????” Franks face was beet red as he tried to compose himself. “Look at you BB. Look at what you’ve become. Do you remember the fun we had together back in the day? Do you remember the adventures? We were practically kings of these and every streets we stepped foot on! Everyone wanted a piece! They still talk about us to this day! What happened BB? I go away for a while upstate and I come back to this?” Frank motions to the goats who are both filling and eating the room. “And more importantly, whatever the hell this is standing in front of me?” Frank motioned with his hand toward Santo. “Yeh, eh, what the fuck are you talking about Frank? You’re jealous!” Santo’s normally cool demeanor began to crack like the forehead of the odd shaped bell boy. “Jealous? No BB. I’m not jealous. Not of what you’ve become at least. I’m proud to see you in the position you deserve. I’m happy to see you leading. What I’m not happy about is the man in front of me who feels the need to have more goats per square foot than any headquarters should house! What I’m not happy about is that I get out of the joint and come back to a man I barely recognize! What the hell is this Santo shit? All of a sudden you are running a family and your boyhood nicknames not good enough for you?” Frank turned his head and uncrossed and then crossed the opposite of his legs. “Eh, heh. Actually my name was BBB. Not BB Frank. You’re the only one who ever called me that.” Santo spoke defensively. “Yeah, and I’m the only one who should have mattered, BB.” Frank retorted as he looked back at Santo. “We were the best of friends after Bob was gone, you remember that? Our bond formed tighter than cement shoes! We were arguably one of the greatest sets of business partners and best friends these streets have ever seen.. Once you got rid of the dead weight, that is.” Franks demeanor changed as if he knew something Santo didn’t. “Heh, what? What do you mean Frank? Are you accusing me of getting rid of Bob? Are you trying to say I did something to him, Frank?” Santo stumbled over his words, the stutter of his childhood spilling through the anxiety and palpitations he was experiencing hearing those words. “You really don’t remember do you?” Frank asked with a puzzled look on his face. “You don’t remember what happened that night? Here at the Hotel California?” Frank paused as a look of shock fell over Santo. “Heh, no. But it is a lovely place though.” Santo said distractingly. “Oh, for sure. And there’s always plenty of room at the Hotel California.. NO, STOP IT! WE ARE DONE MAKING PUNS!!!!” Frank shouted as he stood from the desk chair. “Listen to me BB! I’ve had to live with this for years! I know… and I have always known the truth… about Bob. Because I… I watched it happen…” Franks stance softened as if his shoulders fell in disgrace. “You… you were blinded in a drug and alcohol infused frenzy. Bob and I spent the whole night trying to get you to slow down. But you… you were too into the moment. I don’t know if it was the piles of cocaine, the opium, the whiskey or the topless call girls that put you over the edge.. Hell, maybe all of it. All I know is that you were in a different mindset that night and that mindset didn’t like to be told what to do…” Franks mind trailed back to that night as he spoke. “You’re full of shit Frank! I watched you mourn Bob for weeks! Months! You looked for him everywhere, though you assumed the worst I always tried to be there for you!” Santo’s voice shook as did his body. “You know why I mourned Bob? Why I took it so much harder than you? Because I knew what happened. Hell, there’s not horrors I witnessed in the big house that could compare to the ghosts of memories that haunt me from that night.” Frank laid his head into his hands as he sat back down in the chair. “What are you saying Frank? Are you saying I… I killed Bob?” Santo felt his heart rise into his throat as he spoke and then sink into his stomach. “Yeah, BB. That’s what I’m saying. That’s exactly what I’m saying and exactly what I’ve been hiding all these years! I lied for you, I lied to you! And I made up the story about not remembering how we ended up in that Mexican desert that night! You think you could have driven us into Mexico? As out of your head as you were? We would have been dead on the road long before we reached the Mexican border!” Frank responded almost annoyed at having to tell Santo after all these years. “Heh, but why Frank? Why would I kill Bob? He was our third best friend! We had a whole contest to replace him because we missed him so much! Do you not remember that???!!!” Santo’s octave’s were as all over as his thoughts. “I don’t know BB. I remember an argument over the name of the studio we were going to build. Or maybe it was the prostitute you said you were going to marry and Bob told you that it wasn’t a good idea. All I know is that there you were… Straddling Bob… I thought you guys were going to put on a show for the women until I watched you bludgeon your pistol into his skull over… and over… and over… and over…” “Frank, stop!” Santo commanded as he dropped to the floor like a boulder had crashed down on his shoulders. “Anyways, by the time I could get you off of him, he was gone. I couldn’t stop you… mostly because the prostitute I had wasn’t finished but also because of the drugs. I like to think anyway…. Regardless, I knew you weren’t really to blame. You didn’t even realize what you had done. Your pupils were the size of silver dollars and it was as if the lights were on but no one was home up there.” “Up where?” Santo interrupted confused. “In your head BB. The lights were on and no one was fucking home is like saying you were conscious but you didn’t know what was going on around you. Bob’s blood was everywhere, the prostitutes started grabbing their clothes, heading for the door… I knew if they got out that you were going away and I couldn’t lose you… I had just watched our other best friend be bludgeoned to death! I couldn’t watch them give you the chair BB. I couldn’t. So I did what I thought I had to do…” Frank trailed off as the memories washed over his mind. “Frank, you didn’t…” Santo spoke in horror. “I did BB, I did it for you. I pulled out my pistol and I shot them. One by one. I shot them. It’s not just Bobs body buried in that Mexican desert BB.” “Wait, that’s why we ended up in the Mexican desert?!” Santo interrupted. “Yes BB. After I realized just how bad we fucked up I knew we had to get rid of the evidence. I knew we had to get the bodies into the car and we needed to drive and drive like hell! The only problem was, now I had fired five shots inside of a hotel. I knew that was going to bring the attention of the police. And it did.” Frank climbed down from the chair and took a spot on the floor across from Santo as he spoke. “Heh, what the fuck Frank? You’re telling me that I beat our third best friend Bob to death, you shot five prostitutes and the police were notified and we somehow walked away from this? Are you sure that between the drugs and the booze you aren’t maybe getting this wrong? Santo asked in utter disbelief. “Well, technically I shot four prostitutes. I missed one of them the first time. But yes BB, I’m sure this is what happened. Watching your very best friend beat a soft spot into your third best friends head can be… sobering, I suppose. Between the cocaine and adrenaline from fear I felt like for the five minutes after that occurred I covered so much ground.” Frank trailed off as his mind continued to paint the pictures from that night as he spoke. “First, I knew we were going to have state police arriving in a matter of minutes. Luckily for us, not only is there plenty of room at the Hotel California but also a telephone in every room as well. While, if I recall correctly you were on the floor making goat noises at Bob’s dead body I retrieved a phone number I’d received earlier in the day. You know, when we were sober. Being a mob affiliate from another city meant coming to California to start a racket meant we had to have an in, remember?” Frank paused to allow Santo to recall the sober portion of their trip to California years ago. “So, Frank, what you’re saying is… you called and bought a hotel… this hotel Frank?” Santo spoke though the wrong lightbulb had gone on and quickly flickered out. “No, BB… No” Frank shook his head dumbfounded. “You remember Carlo-Gambino? That young upstart years ago who was with Don Whateverthefucketari who ran the family that helped us broker the deal for the movie studio?” Frank adjusted his posture to be more relaxed as the tension of the room had eased. “You mean, famed mafia leader Carlo-Gambino of Hollwood?” Santo asked almost excitedly and spry. “Yes, BB. That very same Carlo-Gambino. Earlier in the day as we met and dined with Don Whateverthefucketari, Carlo had remarked how he was interested in bringing the illegal goat business to California and slid me his number before we left.” Franks mind ran back to replay the events. “Yeh, heh, he’s an ambitious man. That’s why he’s where he’s at today.” Santo spoke with admiration for the Hollywood crime boss. “Agreed. Anyways, I quickly called him up and asked him to make some calls and get the cops on their payroll to report that the gunshots were mistaken for a prop from a movie being filmed nearby and to let it go. Luckily, associates of Don Whateverthefucketari had pull back then. My next step was the hotel staff. They had already put the place on lockdown and were cowering in a back room when I got to them. I had to make them a few offers they couldn’t refuse and throw out..” Frank was interrupted by Santo. “Did.. did ya put a fucking horse head in their bed Frank?” Santo asked nervously. “No… BB, first of all, where in the hell would I get a horse head on short notice? Secondly they were cowering in a back room here. What part of that… never mind…” Frank signed heavily as he finished. “So anyway, I had to dig deep into my pockets and name drop but I got the staff to collaborate. That and I told them if they didn’t take what I was offering I’d use my LA connections to fire off a few more movie props into their skulls. Either way I now had the law deterred, the staff scared for their fuckin’ lives and a way out of this shit situation you got us into.” Frank took an exhausted breath as this conversation was lasting way longer than he thought when he originally concocted this idea. “Yeh, heh…. Frank, but I’m not the one who added four bodies to the total.” Santo said with a sly smile. “In fairness, I wouldn’t have had to have shot the prostitutes if you hadn’t bludgeoned our third best friend to death! How many bodies there were and how it was your fault isn’t into question. The answer to why is that I did all of this to make you realize. BB, I did it for you. I did it because, yeah, Bob was cool and he made us cheeseburgers but he wasn’t the best friend I had in you. I didn’t want to see you taken away to die in a chair. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. But ever since I got out of the joint, that’s exactly what it feels like. I came back and everything’s different. You remember… you remember what I did for you before I went away?” Frank sniffled a little as tears had filled his eyes. “Eh, heh. Spent countless hours complaining and rambling on about that psycho female you used to hang out with? The one who you ruined her birthday by not staying awake at 4 a.m. on the morning of?” Santo made sexual hand gestures as he appeared giddy. “No, my God BB. I handed you everything I had. I told you, in case I don’t come back I want you to use everything I have to rise and never stop rising. And I meant that. Not only as your best friend but as a man who genuinely respected you. And I come back years later and hear one of the fucking goats caused tony_capone to die during an attempt to figure out how to smuggle guns? I come back and you spend the majority of your time locked in your office, quiet, surrounded by so many damn goats no one can stand to stay in the same room long enough to have a conversation?! You don’t even act happy to see me anymore BB… It’s like I’m here just because you feel like you owe me something and not because you want me here. And me, I gave everything I could to make sure you got this fucking shot!” Franks sadness turned to anger as he slammed his hands to the floor. “Eh, Frank. Heh. I don’t know what to say? You want me to tell you thank you? You want I should put a plaque on the wall back at our compound? Saying this is all because of Frank and has jack shit to do with me and my efforts? Everything I did to get to this point!? Just fuck it right?!” Santo’s emotions boiled hot and he shot to his feet from the floor. A sequence of angry goat noises followed. “No BB! Again, you’re missing the whole fucking picture! I don’t want the fame, I don’t want the acclaim! I want you to see how much more I guess our friendship meant to me than it meant to you… How in the blink of an eye I’d wack four prostitute for you just to cover your wrong doing… Not even thinking of how we might get out of it. How when I knew I had to go, the only person I made sure was taken care of was you. How despite how much I loved Bob I knew even if it was just you and me… We were going to be ok. It was you and me against the world BB… I guess I’m just hurt to come back and it feels like that’s changed…” Frank had stood up in anger to match Santo but now finished speaking with a softened demeanor. “Eh, heh. Frank. Listen. Maybe there’s a lot of things I didn’t realize I was doing, or not doing also. Maybe I got caught up in this crazy lifestyle of power and goats. Maybe I forgot what it was like to be just regular Roco…. Regular BBB…” “Yeah, what kind of facade is this Santo bullshit? That’s not even your name!” Frank chuckled a little bit. “Yeh, heh. I know Frank. I changed a little, ok a lot. It’s hard to run a family, to have 125 goats, to be the guy who keeps everything running. I guess I forgot to make time to be there for those who have gave so much to be there for me heh?” Santo’s head hung slightly as Frank placed his right hand on his left shoulder. “BB, you’ll always be my best friend. My partner in crime. I just need you to be that guy here and there back to me. Oh, and since you made mention about the 125 goats, maybe we cut that number down a tad?” Frank spoke as he watched while Santo’s mouth dropped. “Eh, I’m not killing any of the goats Frank!” Santo spoke harshly. “No BB… I called our old friend Carlo-Gambino before I drove the goats and me out to California. I wanted to find out, gauge his interest if you will on wanting to bring the goat business out west still.” “You mean famed Hollywood mob boss Carlo-Gambino?” Santo’s eyes lit up with glee. “I don’t know why you keep referring to him as that, but yes. Carlo is still very much interested in what the goats can do out here in California. And honestly, I’d like to spend time in a headquarters that smells a little less like shit. Ya know?” Frank cocked his head to the side a bit. “I can’t say for certain I can part with many of the goats Frank. But I’m willing to take a meeting and entertain offers.” Santo stuck out his hand to shake Frank’s. “Oh, and we’ll do it together. Just like old times Frank. Except without copious amounts of drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, murdering friends, murdering the aforementioned prostitutes, going to Mexico, etcetera.” Santo laughed a little as he finished. “That’s all I can ask my friend. That’s all I can ask!” Frank pushed away Santo’s hand and went in to embrace him with a hug and three pats on the back to symbolize their friendship and the third best friend they had lost… well, killed and covered up. “So, are you completely sold on the no prostitutes idea? Because I don’t get out to California often anymore and…” Frank began to cut Santo off. “Not going down that road with you again BB but if you agree to fair terms with Carlo in lightening the truck a few dozen goats for my drive back to New York I’ll tell you how we got the prostitutes and Bob to the desert in Mexico and who cleaned up the room while were gone to make it seem as if nothing ever happened at the Hotel California.” Frank spoke as the two headed toward the door, their arm around each other’s shoulders as they stepped almost in unison. “It was the weirdly deformed, smelly, obscenely grotesque bell boy wasn’t it Frank?” “It was BB. It was indeed.” The two chuckled as they opened the door and exited the room. Together. |
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