Hotel Window: The Great Art Heist

Georgie and Wilbur's stories are coming to an end. This is a work of fiction.

Hello once again. Georgie and Wilbur are back with another outlandish tale from their eccentric family. Unfortunately, their time together may be limited. Georgie and Wilbur are at the end of their senior year of high school. They may be going separate ways after school, but their stories will live forever on this Substack.

George and Will’s time together in school came quicker than anticipated. George is going into ironwork in their Massachusetts hometown while Will is attending Boston University with an undecided major. They will still be close by, but entering college and the workforce opens up a new world to a person that can interfere with prior friendships. They will try their best to stay in touch, but sometimes life gets in the way. It happens.

For now, they are enjoying their final days of high school the only way they know how, in detention, telling stories. This time, George and Will landed themselves in detention for selling trinkets out of their lockers. Trinkets such as yo-yos, Jax, paddleballs, and Detective Comics. After Mr. Burbank caught them in the act, he had no choice but to write “1950’s tomfoolery; mischief” on their detention slips.

Miss Perry has no qualms with entrepreneurship, so she gave the boys free range on storytelling. Today’s story is no different than the previous: one of George or Will’s distant relatives gets into some hijinks from a distinct period in time.

“Are you an art guy?” asked Will.

“We’ve been best friends for fifteen years,” George answered, “you don’t know if I’m an art guy or not?”

“I feel like it’s not something we’ve ever talked about,” Will responded.

“Well if you must know,” George said, “I’m quite the art enthusiast.”

“Oh yeah, who’s your favorite?” Will asked.

“Probably Edward Hopper, but I only like his works in Massachusetts. They are the most pure, almost nostalgic beach scenes. My family and I have been going to the Cape for years, and those paintings make me long for a time way before me” George answered.

Will took a beat.

“That was very eloquent George,” Miss Perry chimed in.

“It was,” Will said, “and it’s funny that you mentioned Edward Hopper because our story is about one of his paintings.”

George sighed, “Is this gonna be a boring history story?”

“Not quite,” Will answered, “It’s about my second cousin Neo Nelson.”

“Your cousin’s name is Neo?” George asked.

“Well it’s Nicholas, but he changed it to Neo in college to sound more unique,” Will said, “May I?”

“Oh I insist, the floor is yours,” George affirmed.

In 2006, my cousin Neo was at the end of his rope. He lived in the Upper East Side with his roommate and best friend, Jeff. Neo was a struggling artist, working in a gallery trying to make ends meet. Jeff was Neo’s roommate in college who took a different path out of college. Jeff worked for an insurance firm in Midtown. Jeff was indifferent about art, but hated his job. He found no joy in working at a desk, starting at a laptop screen all day. Sure, it paid the bills, but Neo and Jeff couldn’t make ends meet in the Upper East Side on a salary and a half.

Once the bills started to pile up, and the notion of returning home entered their minds, they needed to come into some money, quickly. Neo had been hatching several plans that went nowhere. The first was a plan that involved recruiting people to join their business. Then those people would recruit three more people, and so on and so forth. When Jeff told him that it was just a pyramid scheme, and that people would just see right through it, Neo moved onto the next plan. The next plan was a Venmo scam in which Neo would send strangers money, and request it back as a new payment. Unfortunately for Neo, he wasn’t sly enough to trick anyone, so he ended up losing money.

After enough failures, Neo realized that he had to think bigger. With nothing to lose, he turned to the thing he loved the most. He looked into art auctions. He studied who buys pieces of art and why. He began researching how art is transported to the buyer. He also tracked what pieces would sell for the most money. One day, he stumbled on his white whale.

“I know what we’re going to do” Neo blurted.

“Do about what?” Jeff responded as he played PS2.

“Money, man,” Neo said, “I found our ticket out of debt. Sotheby’s auctioned off an Edward Hopper piece. Hotel Window.’”

“Okay,” Jeff answered, “Who’s Edward Hopper?”

“Come on Jeff,” Neo said, “Edward Hopper. Nighthawks? No? All those people sitting at the lonely bar? He’s very famous.”

“Great so someone bought a painting.” Jeff exclaimed, “What does that have to do with us?”

Neo took a second, “We’re gonna steal that painting.”

The plan was simple. Neo had heard about an auction at Sotheby’s the week prior. After being owned by legendary comedian Steve Martin, Hotel Window by Edward Hopper set a record at Sotheby’s after selling for $27 Million to an unknown buyer. The key to Neo’s plan was his inside information. Neo had a dear friend named Brussels Sprout Bob (he worked in the produce section at Foodtown). Bob was also an avid art enthusiast, and believe it or not, had quite the collection. Bob only worked at Foodtown to feel more grounded. He had won the PowerBall in 1998, amassing a $25 Million dollar fortune. By 2006, a great deal of that money had dwindled down, due to Bob’s frivolous spending and impressive art collection. He knew the paintings were a safe asset to bail him out, but he loved his collection. Anyways, I digress. Brussels Sprout Bob was at the Sotheby’s auction and told Neo that eccentric billionaire Frank Finch had bought the painting. Frank Finch was an old man who had inherited generational wealth from his family’s lumber business. Brussels Sprout Bob had overheard that Finch would be shipping Hotel Window to his waterfront mansion in Newport, Rhode Island.

“All we have to do is go to Frank’s mansion in Newport and demand that he give us the painting,” Neo asserted.

“This has got to be your dumbest plan yet,” Jeff responded.

“This guy Frank has so much money, he just throws it away. He probably won’t even be at the house. We can just take it,” Neo said, “and before you ask about security, Bob told me that Finch doesn’t believe in security. He thinks he can handle any situation that would require security.”

“I don’t know about this one. We could go to jail for a long time,” Jeff said.

“This is the adventure you have been craving Jeff. I also have this,” Neo said as he pulled out a handgun, “if we succeed, we’re rich. If we don’t, we tell the police that I held you at gunpoint. You have more going for you, and I can’t have you throwing it all away, but please, please just help me with this.”

That was that. Neo and Jeff packed their belongings. A duffle bag filled with: rope, a grappling hook that Neo ordered on eBay (he saw it in a movie once), Neo’s gun, a shitload of bubble wrap, and two of Jeff’s socks from his men’s softball league that Neo cut holes into to look like masks. Just like that, they were on their way to Newport.

After a long three-hour drive filled with several bathroom breaks, a heated argument about turning back, and seven Red Bulls, Jeff and Neo arrived at their destination. Neo and Jeff were in awe of Finch Manor in Watch Hill, RI. It was a white palace with lush gardens and countless rooms. They noticed that the mansion had no gate.

They parked Jeff’s 2001 Pontiac Aztek in front of Finch’s house and planned their attack.

“Okay. We have to be quick. If Finch is home we rough him up a bit. If he’s not, we wrap up the painting and hit the road. Simple as that,” Neo said.

“Okay fine, let’s just get it over with,” Jeff answered as he put the softball sock over his head.

Neo and Jeff strolled to the front door. Jeff knocked to see if anyone was home. Neo shook his head in disappointment. They looked at each other.

“Worth a shot,” Neo said as he reached for the doorknob.

Luckily for them, the door was unlocked. As the door swung open, the song “Supernature” by Cerrone echoed throughout the manor. Jeff and Neo crept in, carefully tiptoeing to make sure they were not heard. As they reached the living room, they saw a gray-haired man in a bathrobe, smoking a cigar, wielding a Katana. It was Finch.

“Hello Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Finch asked.

Neo raised the gun at Finch.

“You have something of ours,” Neo answered.

“Woah woah, we can figure this out without the weaponry, I’m a reasonable man,” Finch said.

“Sir, you’re literally holding a samurai sword,” Jeff said.

Finch put the Katana down on a stand.

“Now what do I have in my possession, that you believe belongs to you?” Finch asked.

“We’re here for the Hopper painting. Hotel Window,” Neo called out.

“What?” Finch asked, puzzled.

“The painting you bought at the Sotheby’s auction. We’re here to take it.” Jeff answered.

Finch kindly explained to Jeff and Neo that he did not have the painting. He was never at any Sotheby’s auction. They must have been mistaken. Neo didn’t believe Finch and raised the gun again. Finch once again assured the men that he was not in possession of Hotel Window. The men were at a standstill.

“Honestly, I can respect the fact that you guys drove all the way out here, but unfortunately we have run into a big misunderstanding,” Finch said, “I’m sorry but I don’t have your painting. You seem like nice people, though. Clearly, you’re down on your luck if you’re going through with this sad attempt at a robbery. So here’s what I’m going to do. To ensure my safety, and make sure you guys don’t leave empty-handed, I’m going to give you $50,000 in cash.”

“What? Are you serious?” Neo asked.

“Sure, I have more money than God, and I’m not gonna let two bozos cut me down in my prime, so here you go,” Finch said as he pulled stacks of cash from a drawer.

“Wow, thank you Mr. Finch,” Jeff said.

“Oh it’s my pleasure,” Finch responded, “now get the fuck out of my house before I grab that sword and change my mind.”

Jeff and Neo threw their hands in the air and accepted the offer.

They celebrate as they drove back to the city. Neo opened the bag to get another look at their newly acquired money. As Jeff was leaning in to get a good look at it, he swerved out of the lane they were driving in. Shortly after, a Connecticut State Trooper pulled them over. Things escalated when the Trooper found $50,000 in cash, an unregistered firearm, and their robbery kit in the car. Neo ended up taking the fall for Jeff, claiming that Jeff was just a hostage. He forfeited the money and served six months in a low-security prison because the police could not tie them to any real crimes. Jeff unwillingly moved back home. When Neo was released, he was back to square one. No job, no best friend, and a criminal record. The only logical move for him was to return to Newport to attempt another robbery. When he arrived at Finch Manor the second time, he was welcomed by a brand new gate and armored guards. He never got his golden ticket. The End.

“What was the point of that story?” George asked.

“The power of friendship?” Will answered.

George shook his head, “Most of your stories up until this point have been about some grand adventure with a thrilling payoff, and that’s all you can come up with today?”

“Look I got a lot going on, alright?” Will exclaimed.

“What, and I don’t? Oh sorry Mr. College Man, I didn’t know you had a lot on your plate,” George said.

“Relax. We’re almost out of school, and I don’t know if I’m ready to make that transition,” Will said. “So sorry if it interfered with my story today. If you have such a problem with it, maybe you should bring something crazy to the table tomorrow. At least I had a story.”

“Now boys, don’t get so riled up over one lackluster story,” Miss Perry added.

“See, even Miss Perry thought that story sucked!” George yelled, “Tomorrow I’m going to bring the best wildest story you’ve ever heard. It’s going to put all your stories to shame. After that, the storytelling days are over, and I mean it.”

The End.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion to George and Will’s stories.

-CJ