The midday sun licked the building’s facade.
For a moment, he paused to think that there couldn’t have been less of a Peruvian influence in the weird hotel’s architecture. The red bricked wall blended in the neighbourhood, and the neon lettered sign wasn’t the least bit inviting.
He was in no position to be picky.
“Hotel Lima – Room 17 – 14h”
The message was succinct, but he hadn’t expected more.
He pushed the worn out door and walked to the reception. The old woman at the clerk station didn’t even bother looking up to him when he asked for his key. Her hand mechanically went to the wall and back, leaving the huge key holder on the counter. Her eyes hadn’t left the gossip magazine, and he figured he’d find his way without her help.
He was a bit ahead, probably due to his nervosity. He had tried to calm down, downing a couple of drinks before leaving home, but he just couldn’t shake the stress out. “No wonder” he thought to himself.
His visitors didn’t care to knock when they arrived. Walking in with confidence, Joe was closely followed by his two usual big lugs. Joe smiled his creepy smile, and uneasiness filled the room.
So, enjoyed yourself, last month, Frank?
He had, indeed. That trip to Vegas was one to remember. The booze, the rented Lamborghini… Ok, not the hippest model, but it had made it easy to pick up ladies. The gambling all day and fucking all night. He had even attended a couple of shows, and of course, he had treated himself in the finest restaurants.
Yup, man… ‘was pretty cool.
You know how it goes, don’t you? Time to pay now, Frank! I’m glad you didn’t stand me up today. Last time I was a bit… Disappointed.
Frank knew he was far more than disappointed. He had pissed the guy off. On purpose. Joe had followed his plan like an amateur. He was afraid the mafioso would disappoint him, if his blood wasn’t boiling, this very moment.
I don’t have your freakin’ dough, Joe.
His left eye ticked, and Frank could tell he was about to blow. Rubbing his large paw on his mouth and chin, the mobster muffled a deep sigh.
Frank, Frank, Frank…
A slight tilt of the head sufficed to have the two mad dogs pull their hand guns out. Joe walked to Frank, and slipped both hands around his head, in an almost tender way. He was a bit shorter that him, but Frank understood why everybody feared the wanabe godfather.
Frank, I have a reputation to keep clean, you know that… Right? I like you, man. You’re a cool guy, but you’ve already broken the rules once. You give me no choice here…
Anyone else would have peed their pants at the threat. Not Frank. Joe shook his head, gave a pat on Frank’s cheek, and walked out of the room without looking back.
One of the lugs lifted his hand to Frank’s head height, probably expecting fear to make him beg for a second chance. Little did they all know, that the man about to be executed had decided to die long before they had met.
Frank repressed a giggle. It was brilliant, really. He could have just hung himself or taken pills. Instead, he had borrowed an insane amount of money from the worst crook in town. He had blown the cash away, thrown the wildest party he could imagine, and now, they’d even take care of the dirty job!
Staring at the gun, and hoping there would be no second thoughts, Frank hissed his last words.
Fuck you, dummass!