Chapter 20
The next morning, Scott got a text from Daniela:
Taking my father to the market today. But come visit me at the restaurant tomorrow before the show. Don’t have too much fun without me xoxo
Scott decided to hang out by the pool, hoping he didn’t run into Doc. Thankfully, he didn’t see him.
Hanging over his head was Carlos’s party that night. After reading the novel The Beach by Alex Garland, he went back to his room where he dozed off.
He woke up by late afternoon and went down to the pier to watch the sunset. He was thinking of his father and all the times they had watched the sunset at that pier. His dad was his best friend, his rock. The hotel brought back so many memories.
Scott heard a splash. The snorkeler was swimming near the pier again, just like the day before. The diver lifted his head from the water and took off his mask. But like the other day, he was facing toward the sunset and away from Scott.
Scott called out to him, waving his hand to get his attention, but the diver put his head back in the water and swam away.
Scott looked at his watch. Carlos’s party was starting soon, so with a sigh Scott began walking up the hill to the Hyena’s penthouse, ready to get this over with.
At the top of the hill loomed a large black gate. Behind it, water shot from the mouth of a horse-sized hyena statue.
Javier, Carlos’s right-hand man, came to the entrance. He lowered his mirrored sunglasses and leaned in until he was only inches from Scott’s face. Sweat trickled down Scott’s neck. “Follow the path inside,” he finally said.
The stone path led past a glowing pool many times larger than the one off Scott’s room. The water glowed blue from the underwater lights. Behind an oversized black door salsa music spilled out. Scott pushed the door open.
A large white leather sofa sat against the wall in a living room with white marble floors, high ceilings, and mirrored walls.
The sofa sat on a brown, short haired rug, which looked like it could’ve come from the back of a hyena.
An oval crystal depicting two dogs in battle sat atop the mantel of a hissing fireplace. Behold the Hyena’s den.
The suite opened to a back patio where a raucous party was in full swing. The Hyena was right. This wasn’t your normal Christmas party. Guns, drug use, heavy drinking, all on display and set against a background of hypnotic reggaeton music.
Shirtless young men in tight jeans carried trays of drinks.
A DJ with sunglasses and an open shirt stood on a small stage along with a tipsy Santa Claus and two topless girls in bikini bottoms and elf ears.
The Santa and his elves threw little baggies to the guests on the dancefloor.
The dancing mob dove, pushed, and fought for them like real life dogs.
One of the bags dropped at Scott’s feet.
Two of the cocaine cowboys dove for it simultaneously, ripping it open as a colorful collection of pills spilled onto the floor, which the Dogs greedily fought for.
The hedonistic party was in stark contrast to the peaceful scene below in the valley, where Acapulco sparkled in the distance.
Streetlights twinkled. Streams of headlights filled the roads.
Hotels were decorated with red, green and gold lights.
Large container ships sat idle outside the bay.
On the side of one of ships the words “Feliz Navidad” were spelled out in yellow lights.
Another displayed an image of Santa and his reindeer, blinking in a sequence that made them look like they were flying through the sky.
Inside the bay, cruise ships, private yachts, and fishing boats crisscrossed the quiet waters.
Scott turned back to the party, recognizing several of the Dogs he had seen at the pool, now wearing light colored leisure suits, as well as their girlfriends, who wore tight, short party dresses with plenty of frill. No hairspray was spared creating their gravity defying hairdos.
They were a handsome group, young and fit enough to pass for a Mexican fútbol team celebrating a championship. Somehow Carlos had recruited the best-looking young men in Acapulco to become his pistoleros: gorgeous, hard-partying, and very likely to die young.
Scott immediately regretted coming and turned to make his exit when one of the ladies on the dancefloor, a dirty blonde, danced over to Scott and grabbed him by the hand.
She wore ruby red lipstick and a black leather dress.
Her silver bracelets jingled as she tried to dance with Scott, who was too shocked to do anything but stand there.
He noticed a small, puckered scar on her right shoulder.
He wasn’t a cop but he’d guess it was an old bullet wound.
"And who do we have here?" she yelled as she got closer to Scott, who wanted to pull away but was too afraid of her reaction.
Then another girl with black hair, a curvy figure, and high heels walked over. Her dress was decorated with glass ornaments. “What’s his name?” the second girl said.
Just as he pulled away, a man’s voice said, “His name is Scott.” The voice came from a young man whose face hovered over a glass tray with lines of cocaine.
The man sat up and rubbed his nose, the cocaine on the tray all gone.
Scott’s heart sank: Cristiano, the man who confronted Scott at the hotel Christmas party.
“Ahhh,” Cristiano said, “now that’s what I call cocaine!” The others around him laughed.
“Is this your friend, Cristiano?” the blonde girl said.
“Sure is,” Cristiano said with an impish grin. “He’s also the bravest, maybe the fucking craziest gringo in Acapulco.”
“C’mon, Scott, dance with us!” the dark-haired girl said, pulling Scott onto the dance floor. “Party with Acapulco’s top gunslingers. You need to loosen up,” she said, running her hands along his chest. “Try some of this.” She reached into her purse.
But before she could find what she was looking for, a man behind Scott said, "Do not heed the call of these sirens.” Scott turned around to see Carlos. “Scott, you remember my son, don’t you? Cristiano, stop snorting that shit and stand up. I think you have something to say to Scott.”
Cristiano stood up, glossy eyed with a stupid smile on his face, and walked over. "Sorry, Scott,” Cristiano said, “I got out of line last night. No hard feelings.” He offered his hand to Scott.
"That's a good boy," Carlos said. He dismissed Cristiano and put his arm around Scott. “Come with me, Scott. I want to show you something.”
“Oh, can’t we keep him?” one of the girls said as Scott was led away.
Scott glanced back. The dirty blonde blew him a kiss, then threw her hands in the air and twirled back onto the dance floor.