By L. Crystal Michallet-Romero
© February 8, 2005 L. Crystal Michallet-Romero
All rights reserved
used as hemp for rope, now ingested by burning in a wrapped paper.
Pues – then
Menso - Stupid
Ranchera music – Traditional music that is often similar in sound to polka music.
Pappi – Term for Father, or pappa. Often time means, one who takes care of you.
Hombre - man
Amigo - Friend
Si - Yes
Verdad – Truth, as in, “Isn’t that the truth,” or “Am I right?”
Wedo – white man
pinchie gringo – “expletive” white man
chica - girlfriend
loco - crazy
chingada – curse word, like “dammit!”
Casey Stanton liked to think of himself as a rebel. He would never fit in with the stand-up, straight-laced boring preppy
crowd and that’s how he liked it. He was a rebel doing his own thing. It never occurred to Casey that his attempt to be
different had actually made him part of a crowd. It was not the type that most parents approved of, nor was it the kind that
brought anything but fear and loathing from those who saw them passing on the road. Casey, or Shadow as he liked to be
called, was a part of the punk underground scene. Even in a sleepy town like San Madrone, their presence was a constant
reminder of the teen angst that consumed a segment of the kids.
“Hey, nut-balls, you lost this!” Shadow jokingly called to his friend, Diablo, as he held out a brown, tattered leather wallet.
Diablo was not his real name, but a handle that was common amongst their crowd. As if their real names revealed too much
of themselves, each teen chose a name that they could hide behind. For Diablo, his name fit him perfectly. With dark long
hair, earth brown features and a neatly trimmed goatee pointing toward the bottom of his firm chin, the eighteen year could
have looked like the devil himself, or at least his offspring.
The Chicano youth glanced back at Shadow. His torn, faded jeans were held up by a metal belt chain that was jury-rigged
with heavy pad locks to hold it together. He wore a leather vest over a simple white tee shirt. With black boxers showing,
Diablo smiled, the silver piercings on his face glimmering in the diffused city streetlights. The various tattoos of satanic images
were carefully concealed under the Chicano’s shirt.
“Hey dude, thanks,” the slight buzz slurred Diablo’s words and made his pupils dilated. Before retrieving his wallet that had
fallen from his low hanging pants, Diablo held the thin tweed to his lips, inhaling deeply. The familiar aroma of cannabis wafted
in the air and lingered around the small group. After Shadow took the tweed from his friend’s hand, Diablo quickly turned his
affections to the lithe brown beauty that was hanging on his arm.
“Hey man, I wanna have some fun,” she whined to Diablo as she pulled him down for a kiss.
Shadow smiled at the scene, and then held the smoke to his lips as he inhaled the tangy concoction. At the gentle nudge by
his side, he glanced down at his girlfriend. Although only dating for a week, he had spoken his undying love for her, which
always resulted in him going all the way. Although Casey might have felt a bit reluctant to lead her on, for Shadow, speaking
lies to get some action never bothered him. When it came to Melinda, he would have said anything to get into her pants, and
since she required the words of love, he gladly spoke them just to be able to feel her slender body under him.
“Am I gonna get some?” the red-head asked.
As the intoxicating aroma burned in his chest, Shadow glanced down at Melinda. He noticed how her dark lipstick matched
the black eye shadow around her eyes. Like him, she had a gold hoop piercing on her eyebrow and another in her nose.
When Shadow released his breath and smelled the second hand smoke, he smiled wryly as he lowered himself to the girl.
“Oh, you’re gonna get some, alright!” Shadow’s whisper promised against her ear was followed by the gentle nibbling of her
lobe right before his tongue snaked out and darted into its canal. The stud on his tongue brushed against her skin, promising
even more pleasure that would follow. With a soft giggle, Melinda’s hand pushed into his back pocket as she leaned into his
embrace.
“I know that, stupid, but I want some green bud too,” Melinda finally said as she pulled away and took the tweed from him,
then began to inhale the joint.
With a smile, Shadow looked around them. At this hour of the night the city streets were crowded with people like
themselves. They were outsiders, outcasts discarded and ignored by everyone. Their stories and pasts were not important.
All that mattered was that for this moment in time, they were amongst a group of people who understood that sometimes
being on the outside of the norm was the only way to exist.
When the traffic light turned green, his group made their way across the pavement to the local hangout. If the sight of the
Chicano gang banger and his girl friend walking with a blond teen and red-head girl surprised the people, none showed it.
Instead, they continued on their way as the four youths walked toward the all night establishment. The blue neon sign flashed
its last burst of light within the window of the Taqueria. As they entered the small brick building, the sudden scents of chili,
meat, and herbs assaulted their senses.
“Hey man, you got some cash? I’m hungry,” Diablo looked back at him.
“Dude, why do you always look at me?” Shadow exclaimed as he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet.
“Pues, you’re the one with a rich old man, not me,” Diablo grinned as he snatched the wallet and took out a crisp bill.
“Get me a taco, man,” Shadow called to his friend as he, Melinda and Yolanda, Diablo’s woman, took up a booth. Those
nearby who were not a part of their crowd suddenly grabbed their stuff and left, casting wary glances back at the leather clad
youths.
“Anything you want, Dude, my treat!” Diablo held out his arms as a sign of generosity before going to the small window to
place their order.
With a glance over his shoulder, Shadow noted the time, and then leaned against Melinda’s warm body. While a part of him
knew that it was late, the drugged out part of his brain thought that it was actually morning. Both of his dual senses were right,
yet nothing would have deterred him from his night of fun.
“Did you sneak out again?” Melinda asked.
“Did you?” Shadow raised a questioning brow before they both began to giggle uncontrollably.
Casey was rebelling against his father, that is what every psychologist and family therapist had told him. In his ever pressing
need to find his own balance to becoming a man, he had chosen to turn against everything that his father stood for and this
was how he did it. By becoming part of the underworld scene, mutilating his body with piercings and tattoos and choosing a
way of life so contrary to his father’s, he was finding his path to manhood. For Casey, it really didn’t matter what they said
nor did he particularly care. He simply went to those appointments because he had no other choice. So while he sat in the
drab, closed off space he listened to the litany of complaints from his old man and remained stoically silent. Every once in a
while he might snicker, or sigh, but he allowed nothing more than a mild interest in what they spoke to reveal in his
mannerism. This is how Shadow, the new man he was becoming, preferred it. And who could blame him with the father that
he had?
Doctor Wilfred J. Stanton, Ph.D, professor of criminology, forensic anthropology, famed lecturer at various prestigious
universities, part time consultant to the FBI, and other foreign law enforcement agencies and now a Dean of Criminology at
the University of San Madrone, a position he held since becoming a widower. If this information wasn’t enough to scare
Shadow’s friends away, then the man’s tall, foreboding nature kept them at arms length. Only by donning the standard
uniform of the day could Casey, now known as Shadow, blend in with the people whom he chose to align himself with, and
this disturbed his father. But it didn’t bother Shadow. He had no problem with sneaking out at night, or forgetting about his
school work until he was border line with his academic standing. At sixteen, he wasn’t very concerned with anything except
the immediate. His future and his father meant very little to him.
“Hey, why don’t we go to the park, huh? You always like it in the park,” Shadow whispered to his girlfriend as he leaned into
a kiss. Her lips were always soft and inviting. Her tongue, pierced like his, was eager to dance against his. As their kiss
lingered, he felt the all too familiar stirring in his pants and knew that if he could, he would take her here and now.
Before he could get more excited, Diablo’s voice broke the mood. “Hey, menso, don’t get your gears all revved up yet,
man, we just got a job.”
“A job?” Shadow frowned as the taco was dropped in front of him.
“Yeah, Tazer said that he’s got a good place for us, real easy, in and out, no problem,” Diablo’s voice was punctuated by the
sound of the burrito he was chewing. The girls each took their food and began to eat as they talked about the latest things that
girls talk about. Ignoring their mindless chatter, Shadow dug into his food and shook his head.
“Man, I ain’t doing anything for Tazer! You know him, he always wants to do high profile things and I ain’t that stupid!”
Shadow exclaimed as he grabbed the large soda and took a gulp. “No liquor stores for me!”
“Liquor stores? Man, when have I ever done a liquor store? No way!” Diablo spoke quickly before devouring his burrito. In
between bites, he spoke softly so as not to be heard by anyone nearby. Shadow didn’t think that anyone cared to listen nor
could they with the sounds of the Ranchera music blaring through the corner speakers on the wall.
“Listen, Shadow, I’m your Pappi, right? Your man, your hombre and amigo, right? I’m the one who always looks out for
you, si?” Diablo asked with a serious tone.
Shadow glanced up at him and studied his face for a long moment. He noticed the way that the eighteen year old stared at
him intently with dark, piercing eyes. The thin mustache on his upper lip was a direct contrast to the slight peach fuzz that
gathered on his cheek and his skin, as brown as earth, seemed to glisten under the bright yellow lights of the Taqueria. With
something akin to a grunt, Shadow averted his eyes and continued to eat his early morning meal.
“Verdad, I told you, I always look out for my homeboys, and even though you’re a wedo, you’re like my brother,” Diablo’s
smooth sounding voice coaxed. “I would never do anything to put you in danger, trust me man, this is going to be smooth, in
and out, no fuss at all!” he promised as he lit a cigarette, completely ignoring the No Smoking sign on the wall.
