Читать книгу Demon Dancer - Alexander Valdez - Страница 22

Chapter 17

Freedom of Walking Home

We chose to walk home some days after school; it provided a freedom to explore back alleys and old abandoned buildings. Walking through the downtown area brought back memories of George and Albert and all the fun we had walking those streets. I was wishing that I still had some of that money I used to throw around, but now it was back to being poor with the rest of my crew. Some of my guys had a nickel or two left over from their lunch money, so we would stop at the arcade where I once reigned. Old Doc would give me a free soda for old time’s sake while I sat their talking to him as my guys played the pinball machines.

The next day after school, I walked home with two girls who told me they were going to see Ricky Nelson in his hotel room. He was in town filming Rio Bravo with John Wayne and a host of others. Ricky was staying at the Sands, which was right across the street from the old dance hall. How the girls knew exactly what door to knock on really surprised me. The girls knocked, and Rick’s friend Wally answered the door. I recognized him from the TV show or movies or somewhere, but it was Wally in the flesh.

He called over to Ricky, who came right to the door, no problems. The girls were beyond themselves with giddiness, but Ricky was really laid-back as he signed an autograph for each of us. I asked Wally for his, but he refused, saying, “Ricky’s is the one you want.” That was interesting, I thought. Ricky was actually cool and not stuck up at all. One thing we noticed was that he had really bad acne. That surprised me since on the television, he had a perfect complexion. He was a teenager after all, just like me, so there wasn’t any room to talk. Oh well, I thought, we like his music and his show, so it is satisfying for a starstruck kid.

The old dance hall and the old women back in Hermosillo were starting to plague me. The thoughts of what I had envisioned in Mexico on the day we climbed the hill to the old dance hall really stuck to me. I hadn’t told my dad about my trip to the dance hall, only because he made me promise that I wouldn’t go. Thus, I just couldn’t let him down.

My mother got the lion’s share of my trip’s news as I regaled her with the wonderful time spent with my friends. I had to come clean, though, about burying the car of the mayor’s wife in mud. Mom could always detect when I was spinning something, so I didn’t bother to lie to her. As it turned out, everybody in my family wanted to hear the blow by blow of the incident. They would all laugh and tell me I was the devil’s child. My crew, on the other hand, wanted me to run for president. They thought I deserved the award for mischievousness, and they would laugh hysterically every time the story came up.

I’ve got to say that I wasn’t telling my mom anything she didn’t already know. Stupid me, not thinking that mother’s love to talk on the phone and that she had just done exactly that with George’s mother, Lorenza, back in Mexico. She did tell my mother that in spite of it all, she really loved my visit and that everyone who came in contact with me couldn’t stop talking about me for days after I left.

Even George’s street crew of ne’er-do-wells kept bugging him about when I would be coming back again. I still remember some of them—Roberto Salazar, Sergio Cesena, Cochiberto Mazon, and others. I had made a good old-fashioned impression on them and them on me. I had one of the best trips of my life.

George and I would send letters back and forth to each other, and he would always say hello for guys from his group who always pestered him about when I might be coming back to his house. He was a true friend, and so was Alberto, his tagalong little brother. It was funny because George was introducing his buddies to Jerry Lewis’s movies and American Bandstand and other gringo fare.

I would send him a box of comic books and teen magazines that he would share with the guys. The degree of camaraderie I felt with my new Mexican brothers is hard to describe. Through George and Albert, I was blessed with a new group of kindred spirits, which was an irreplaceable feeling.