I.
Ricky sat on the couch, reading his newspaper. It was the first Saturday night off he'd had in several months, thanks to the remodel project he'd started at the club. Rick bounded down the stairs, a bag of clothes slung over one shoulder.
Ricky looked up at his son. "What time are you leavin'?"
"Bruce's dad is driving us to the train station in a few minutes. I'm gonna walk next door. Where's Mom?"
Before Ricky could answer, Lucy came out of the kitchen. "Oh, sweetheart, are you leaving? Are you sure you and Bruce are going to be alright?"
"Aw, honey, they'll be fine! They've taken the train before, and they're only goin' to the Applebees'." Ricky folded his paper and stood up, reassuring his wife.
"Oh, I know, but he's only sixteen…" Lucy approached Rick and straightened the collar on his shirt.
"Exactly, Mom, I'm sixteen years old," Rick sighed.
Lucy frowned. "It sounds so much older when you say it…"
Ricky laughed from behind her and put his hands on her arms, kissing her on the cheek. "Relax, Mama, he'll be alright."
Rick smiled and kissed his mother before heading to the back door. "I'll be home tomorrow morning!"
"Be careful!" Ricky and Lucy called after him in unison.
II.
Rick and Bruce got off the train in New York and walked through the station, out to the street. They met Steve Applebee on the corner. He smirked when he saw them. "I told my mom we were goin' to a movie and we'd be home later."
"We just said we were coming to see you. And we are," Rick smiled.
The three boys chuckled before Steve started leading them down the street. "The club is four blocks this way. There's already a line around the corner, I saw it."
Bruce rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Oh, great! We'll never get in that way."
Steve's mouth curled into a scowl. "We might not anyway, we're not eighteen."
Rick stopped walking and the other two boys stopped to look at him. "What are you guys worried about? I've got an idea!"
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
Rick folded his arms, proud of his quick thinking. "There's GOT to be a service entrance. We'll sneak in the back, through the kitchen. Once we're in the club, nobody will see us in the crowd for a million years. And we'll just walk out the front with everybody else at the end of the night."
Steve smiled broadly. "Yeah!"
"Wait, wait, wait…" Bruce wasn't quite so convinced. "What makes you think there won't be a ton of people WORKING in the kitchen? They're gonna know we don't work there."
Rick looked at his friends thoughtfully. "Not if we look like we DO work there."
"How?" Steve looked back and forth between Rick and Bruce.
"My Dad's club is closed tonight, it's being remodeled. But I can get in and grab some aprons and stuff…you know, like busboys wear. We'll bring 'em back, he'll never know they were gone."
Bruce and Steve looked at each other. The idea was genius as far as they were concerned. "That is positively far out, Ricardo."
"Naturally, Ramsey!"
Rick led the way in the opposite direction to Club Babalu. When they reached it, Rick took them to the side of the building, out of the view of the traffic on the street. "You guys stay here and keep a lookout."
"How will you get in?" Bruce hissed at Rick.
Rick pushed on a door nearby that appeared as though it was unmovable. "Dad leaves this open for the workers."
Steve grabbed his arm. "Wait, are they in there now?"
Rick paused, not sure. "I don't think so…if they are, I'll make a break for it!"
Bruce and Steve looked at each other as Rick went back to push on the door until it opened into a back hallway that went behind dressing rooms and out to the kitchen. They waited anxiously for him to return, looking around them and tapping their feet.
After a few moments, Rick returned with three folded white aprons. He handed them to Bruce and pulled the door closed again. "There was nobody there. Come on!"
III.
Steve knew a side street that would lead behind Skyline, the club they wanted to get into. Sneaking down that street, they were able to avoid being seen by the waiting crowd and the bouncers.
Rick pointed to a door where lots of employees were coming in and out, seeming to open into a kitchen. The three boys tied the aprons around themselves and Rick looked at his friends. "Now, look natural! We're just gonna walk in like we belong there. Act like we're walking into school!"
Steve and Bruce nodded and they walked together up to the door. Rick peeked in to see a chaotic scene of bustle and noise from waiters, chefs, dishwashers and busboys. He was very accustomed to the familiar scene. He scanned the kitchen quickly and saw a stack of trays that would normally be used to carry dishes in and out of the kitchen. "Grab one of those," Rick whispered.
The boys followed Rick into the kitchen, where they passed through virtually unnoticed. They each picked up a tray and imitated what Rick did by sticking it under their arms, the way he had seen busboys do a million times. They made their way through the rest of the kitchen and reached a swinging set of doors that seemed to go out to the dining room and dance floor.
Bruce started walking ahead of Rick out the doors, but Rick grabbed his arm to stop him. "No! This door is out, that door is in! You'll walk into a waiter." Bruce got behind Rick again, realizing he was the only one of them who knew what he was doing. They followed Rick out the correct door and their eyes opened wide when they walked out into the main dance floor. Hundreds of people were dancing to the music of two guitarists, two keyboardists, three guys playing three different types of drums and a singer. Waiters were winding around the perimeter of the room, where people were eating and drinking.
Rick turned to his friends. "Come on, we gotta ditch these aprons until later…"
They quickly shed the aprons and stowed them under an empty beverage cart sitting in a dark corner. Feeling safe, they walked around freely. "This place is amazing!" Bruce was truly impressed by the hoard of people, flashy spotlights and loud music. Steve was a bit more contained, being a native New Yorker. Rick was simply proud of himself for achieving what his friends thought would be difficult, if not impossible. He was there for the fun of it, but he had grown up on the inside of a nightclub. Still, he thought, he was in a nightclub where he wasn't under the protective watch of his father. That was the thrill.
Having very little money, they stayed away from any tables or bar stools, where they might end up owing something they didn't have. They circulated the floor, dancing and chatting with various people they met and trying to act as though they were in college. They asked girls to dance, or danced with the crowd. The air was thick with cigar and cigarette smoke, and drinks were in almost every hand on the floor.
The boys had completely lost any fear they might've had going in and followed the ebb and flow of the crowd.
After at least two or three hours enjoying themselves, the music stopped and Rick heard the singer and his musicians frantically talking about what they were going to do…one of their drummers had an emergency and they had another hour left in their set.
Forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping a low profile, and feeling right at home performing, he ran up to the stage. "Hey! Hey, I can play!"
The musicians looked at him skeptically. "You can play the drums?"
"Yes! I've been playing since I was little!" Rick flashed a smile.
The musicians looked at each other and the singer stammered. "It's either that or nothing and we don't get paid!"
They waved him onto the stage as Bruce and Steve ran up to his side. "What are you doing," Steve yelled. Rick ignored him and climbed up on stage, sitting behind the drums and picking up the smooth sticks.
One of the guitarists looked back at him, still doubtful of his ability. "Just stay with us as much as you can."
When they began to play, Rick picked right up with them…and he thought to himself that he sounded better than their original drummer. The other musicians must've agreed, because they kept looking at him in complete disbelief, smiling and nodding at each other. At one point, they even motioned to him to take a solo during one of the pieces, at the end of which, the dancers on the floor stopped to applaud him.
Bruce and Steve, meanwhile, stood by with horrified looks, afraid that his performance would get them caught.
When the singer thanked the audience at the end of their last hour on stage, the boys tried to get Rick down quickly so they could get out without attracting any more attention. But the musicians in the band had other ideas, talking to him and offering him a full time job. Rick was high on the feeling he always got from performing and hearing the applause.
When his friends were finally able to grab him, they pulled him back toward the kitchen. "We have to get out of here, somebody might've seen you! What's the matter with you?" Bruce sneered at him.
Rick hadn't thought of that. He just wanted to play the drums.
Before they could get too far or think too much, they stopped in their tracks. Bruce and Steve were frozen and Rick walked into them. "What's wr-" His eyes opened wider than he believed they could, his jaw falling nearly to the floor. "Dad?!"
Ricky was standing in front of them like a roadblock, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes dark and smoldering. He looked directly at his son. "Do you care to 'splain?"
Rick ran a hand nervously through his hair. "Yeah, I can 'splain'…"
Ricky's jaw tightened. "No te hagas el listo conmigo! What are you doin' here?"
Before Rick could answer, one of the musicians came up behind him. "Where're you running off to! Come wrap with us!"
Ricky walked up to the musician and moved his son behind him. "I'm sorry, but he won't be here again for A REALLY LONG TIME!" He emphasized his words to be sure his son was getting his message.
The musician smiled broadly. "He's real good, man, he wails on those drums! He's outta sight and talented!"
Rick went to his father's side and looked at the musician.
Ricky swallowed. "Well, thank you, but his arms might be broken soon." Rick slunk back behind his father, knowing fully that it was a threat meant to instill fear…or was it? Oh, God, he thought.
"Come with me, boys," Ricky said sternly to Steve and Bruce.
As they walked back out through the kitchen, Rick stopped. "Dad?" Ricky turned around, his eyes daring him to speak.
Rick walked over to the cart in the corner and pulled out the aprons they had used to sneak through the kitchen.
"What's that?" Ricky looked like he couldn't take any more surprises.
"Uh…we used these to sneak through the kitchen."
"And?!"
"And I got them by sneaking into your club and taking them out of the kitchen." Rick spit the words out in one quick breath, hoping me wouldn't understand. No, his ability to HEAR English was perfect.
Ricky turned around and started walking through the kitchen, Rick and his friends following behind him.
When they got out went out through the kitchen again, Steve's parents were standing outside, waiting. Steve groaned. "Steven Applebee, what in the world are you doing here," bellowed his father, Charlie.
Ricky kept walking. "I'll let you deal with your son, Charlie. You two are coming with me."
Rick and Bruce followed Ricky as they walked in silence. Rick bit his lip and looked around them as they walked the four blocks back to the train station. He thought this might just be the last of New York that he would see for a while. That and that this was going to be the longest train ride of his entire life.
As they waited on the platform, Rick looked at his father. "Um…Dad…how did you know where we were?" If he was going to die, he might as well know how it happened.
Ricky turned to him slowly and Rick was immediately sorry he'd asked. "I got a call from the owner of the club, tellin' me that you're the best drummer he ever saw and askin' if I could let you play there every Saturday night."
"Really?!" Rick got excited, but dialed it back when his father continued to bore into him with his darkened eyes.
"You dun't belong there at your age with drinkin' and the DANGERS that could be in a nightclub if you dun't know what you're doin'!"
Bruce felt the need to speak up for his friend…for some reason. "Mr. Ricardo, Rick's been hangin' around your nightclub all his life! He KNEW what he was doing!"
Rick looked at Bruce as though he were the most stupid person he ever saw. "Bruce, now would be a good time to shut up. You aren't helping me, here."
"Alright. You're too young to be in a nightclub WITHOUT ME supervisin' you!"
Rick looked at train tracks. Where was this train, for the love of God?
Ricky continued sternly. "Aside from that, you lied to us about where you were goin'."
Rick snapped up and shook his head. "No, I didn't! I said we were going to see Steve Applebee! And we did! We just didn't get to his house yet!"
Ricky chuckled and Rick wasn't sure why. "You sound more like your mother every day. But like your mother, there's one problem with your little scheme. There isn't a club owner in the tri-state area who doesn't know me OR YOU!"
Rick and Bruce looked at each other.
Ricky looked one more time at his son as the train could be heard starting to come through. "Esto no va a suceder de nuevo. Estoy en lo cierto, Enrique?"
"Si, Papa."
IV.
It was indeed a long, long train ride back to Connecticut. When they arrived home, Ricky started immediately for the front door. "Bruce, your parents are here," Ricky muttered.
Bruce and Rick steeled themselves for what was to come, but Rick felt as though his mother would be far easier to deal with than his father had been.
When they walked through the door, Lucy and the Ramseys jumped up from their seats.
The Ramseys walked right up to Bruce, and his father, Ralph, took him by the ear, leading him back out the front door. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young man! It's going to be a long night!" Bruce was sure of that as he passed Rick on the way out.
Rick looked at his mother, who stood with her hands on her hips. She was visibly angry, and yet he could see in her eyes that she was happy to see him safe. "Mom, I-"
"Don't you say another word! I can't BELIEVE you did this! I've known all your life that hanging around that nightclub was going to be a bad influence on you!"
Ricky's eyes shot open. "What?! This had nothin' to do with MY nightclub! An' if you wanna talk about bad influences, you should hear the story this kid gave me! It sounds like somethin' YOU made up!"
"Dad…"
"Oh, nonsense! He's been hanging around carousing musicians since he was old enough to walk and now he wants to BE one!"
"Mom…"
"An' what about those other two characters? They never been in a nightclub in their lives and they were there with 'im!"
"Are you two gonna get around to yelling at me, or are you gonna fight with each other all night?"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Ricky and Lucy yelled at him in perfect unison, both of them pointing up the stairs.
Rick climbed the stairs, as his mother went to the kitchen and his father went to the den.
V.
The next morning, Rick woke up to the welcome smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. It was welcome because it meant that at least his mother was no longer angry…at least not with his father.
He hadn't slept well, for obvious reasons, and on reflection, he knew he had done wrong…and not just because he had been caught. He put on his robe and went out into the hall hesitantly. They would likely still be made, but maybe they would be more willing to talk instead of yell by now. He hoped so, anyway.
He walked down the stairs quietly. The living room was empty, but he could hear the sound of silverware and dishes in the kitchen. He took a breath and walked into the kitchen.
His parents both looked at him, Lucy standing near the sink and Ricky sitting at the table with the newspaper. "You guys aren't still mad at each other, are you?"
His parents looked at each other, Lucy touching Ricky's shoulder as he answered their son. "No, Ricky, we're not mad at each other, we apologized."
Rick nodded. "Good." He stood where he was. "Well, I guess you're still mad at me and I don't blame you. I just want to say I'm sorry for what I did and it won't happen again. You probably won't let me back into New York for my whole life, anyway."
Lucy turned her head so her son wouldn't see her smile and Ricky stifled a laugh. They looked at each other, then back to him.
"Hijo, sit down."
Rick sat across from his father. Lucy stood behind Ricky, her hands resting softly on his shoulders.
Ricky folded his hands on top of the table. "Son, we give you rules because we love you and we want the right thin's for you. Now, I know you feel at home in a nightclub, but you aren't allowed there by yourself until you're 18. And you know that, or you wouldn't have gone snickin' around."
Rick nodded and looked at his hands.
Lucy walked to the stove and started preparing eggs for her son. "We decided that you should be grounded for three weeks," she said quietly.
Rick looked at them. They had been more lenient than he expected. "Ok."
"And one more thin'," Ricky continued. "We dun't wanna keep you outta New York for your whole life. But after your groundin' is over, anytime you DO go back, it's gonna be with me…'til we decide you can go alone again."
"I understand."
Lucy rested a plate of breakfast in front of her son and smiled at him. "We accept your apology, by the way. Your father couldn't stay too mad for too long when he told me how talented everyone said you are."
As Rick started eating his breakfast, his father smiled into his newspaper.