The Black Widow Gang

By Rick Silvestre

The Black Widow Gang explores the lives of Munchie,
Goofer and Rey discovering fundamental truths about their
characters and identity. In cinematic terms, The Black Widow
Gang could be the prequel to Easy Rider, with Billy, George
Hanson and Captain America before they became icons of
a nation in turmoil.
The story is set in Monte-Vista, California, a village tucked
away in a corner of the San Francisco Bay Area. Ride with
the three main characters from their early days on Sting Rays,
through the awkwardness of puberty and their clumsy high
school attempts at gallantry, onto motorcycles, sex and drugs.
WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR PARENTAL READING.
Contains graphic language, drugs, violence, teen sex, adult themes
and alternative family values that may be worth exploring.
I really enjoyed the story immensely. Reality, without offense...
it re-inspired me. Dominick
Man, it was like reliving it all over again . Randy (a.k.a. Goofer)
The book you are purchasing
was borne from the author Rick
Silvestres need to self-medicate
the never-ending pain from a
traumatic event early in his life.
The end result is forgivenss of
himself and surprisingly his father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467054683

Rick Silvestre

Founding member and author Rick Silvestre, lived the stories portrayed in The Back Widow Gang. Originally from the S.F. Bay Area, he now calls Dallas, Texas and Mena, Arkansas home. Mr. Rick, often described as one of the least likely people, actually does grooms some of Big D’s shining stars.

Book preview

© 2012 by Rick Silvestre. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/29/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4670-5467-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-5468-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011917779

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1 :   Potato, Potato, Potato

Chapter 2 :   In The Creek

Chapter 3 :   The Black Widow Gang

Chapter 4 :   Attack Of The Black Widows

Chapter 5 :   Hormone Homo

Chapter 6 :   Rey’s Summer Vacation

Chapter 7 :   Basket For The Gods

Chapter 8 :   Like So Many Grains of Sand

Chapter 9 :   The Last Day of School

Chapter 10 :   The Big Bang

Chapter 11 :   Tomato Basil Bisque

Chapter 12 :   Ying, Ying, Ying

Chapter 13 :   Stealing Science

Chapter 14 :   Freedom Freak Out

Chapter 15 :   Macaroni and Cheese

Chapter 16 :   Is That All There Is?

Chapter 17 :   Changez

Chapter 18 :   Red Filters

Chapter 19 :   Roommates

Chapter 20 :   Sindi & Dom

Chapter 21 :   The Best Feeling In The World

Chapter 22 :   Satan’s Disciples

Chapter 23 :   D’You See That?

Chapter 24 :   Delta Run

Chapter 25 :   His Demons Sleep

Chapter 26 :   When The Music’s Over

To

Robbie and his Mom and Dad and siblings for a friend I’ll never forget.

To

My sister Rose and Randy and all the members of the Black Widow Gang (both imagined and real) who are responsible for half the character lines in my face and many of the good times in my life.

To

my Mom and Dad and Jack, with love and gratitude for the truths they taught me and the examples they set for me.

I would like to acknowledge the following:

My brother Luis Carlos, who suggested I expand on my letter to him and fill out my characters.

Jan, who allowed me to invite myself into her writers’ group and to all the members of both writers’ groups that encouraged, criticized and helped me write this book.

Mary, who helped with the editing.

Don, my friend and Pulitzer prize winning artist, for designing and executing my covers.

To Rebecca, whose red pen added much color to my pages.

The Black Widow Gang is the often humorous story of three boys growing up in the S.F. bay area during the days of drugs, sex and motorcycle movies and the tragic outcome.

Chapter 1

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Potato, Potato, Potato

The soles of his feet tingled as the deep, low rumble reverberated up through his body. Rey was frightened, but so fascinated, he couldn’t pull himself out of its path. He felt his mother’s hands tug gently on his shoulders as the crowd around them seemed to melt away from the edge of the street. He struggled against his mother’s grip, not wanting to miss one second of this strange new vision.

Back on the sidewalk, son. The motorcycle policeman spoke as if from atop an iron horse looking down through dark glasses at Rey. He wore black gloves, shiny black boots that went all the way up to his knees and a blue hat with a shiny black visor, like the man at the gas station. Open-mouthed, Rey stared, his head slowly turning while his feet found their way back onto the sidewalk. The motorcycle had a star on the side of its gas tank and lots of gleaming chrome. It had a windshield and its antenna swayed slowly back and forth as the police officer herded the crowd back onto the sidewalk.

Mom, did you feel that? Boy-o-boy! That’s what I want when I grow up!

After the parade, as Rey’s mother drove back up into the foothills, the motorcycle was the only thing Rey spoke of. He held his arms out gripping his imaginary motorcycle’s handlebars, bounced softly and mimicked in his deepest, most manly voice, Potato, potato, potato, potato…

Potato, potato, potato? Rey’s mother glanced at him quizzically.

That’s the sound a motorcycle makes, Mom. Didn’t you hear it?

Chapter 2

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In The Creek

Rey and his mother, Angelina Langarica, lived in a small two-bedroom bungalow tucked away in the foothill village of Monte Vista, California, on the front edge of a small shelf of land in the northwest corner of the Santa Clara Valley. At times, Rey’s father lived with them as well.

Early in the morning, when the shadows were still long in the valley below and the air was cool and damp, they would look out over the orchards, vineyards and dairy farms, taking in the beauty that spread before them. The village of Monte Vista was left behind in a time when there were massive old trees that had never met a lumber jack’s blade, no sidewalks or polite laws to keep small farm animals from living in people’s backyards. Neighbors down the street had rescued a beautiful little fawn after its run-in with a car. It seemed to love its adoptive parents and could be seen sniffing passersby, as if in greeting.

Angelina would bring Rey with her on shopping trips to the Goodwill store in Sunnyvale in order to save the cost of a babysitter. She was very good at finding clothing for him that looked new, were still stylish and looked good with other clothes he already had. While she shopped, Rey would explore. He would go up and down the aisles peering under the racks of clothing and rummaging through old books, furniture and toys.

One day, as Rey came to the staircase that led up to the store’s offices, he was surprised and delighted by what looked like a calico cat in a box. On closer examination, Rey found that the little cat was merely bits of fur in an array of colors. Why would anyone donate scraps of fur? What could this be used for? Oh! I know! He was so excited, he ran to his mother. Mom, Mom! Can I have a dime, please?

A dime? What do you want to buy, m’ijo? she asked.

Rey caught the look in her eyes that told him she would buy whatever he wanted. I found a piece of fur I want!

Fur?

* * *

After the following morning’s breakfast, Rey swaggered into the kitchen sporting his new goatee and mustache.

Oh, honey! Although Angelina covered her mouth, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Rey had hoped she would think he looked as handsome and dashing as the Jack of Hearts in his deck of souvenir playing cards. Rey’s lips tightened, he lowered his head and stomped off to his room. He grabbed his knapsack and ran down the back steps toward the creek. Angelina tried to catch him, calling out after him, Reymundo! Reymundo! Don’t forget to come home for lunch! I’m going to make something really special for you!

"I hate being a kid! Why can’t I just grow up—now? Rey bobbed and weaved and took a swing at some low hanging branches. Sugar Rey leads with two left jabs, a right and a left uppercut square on the chin! The mean kid is down for the count and the crowd is cheering for Sugar Rey! Yeeeeeeaaaahhh! Rey left his daydream, dropped his arms and resumed his trudge down the creek. They make fun of me at school and so does that man my mom says is my father. Now even my mom laughs at me… maybe I should just run away."

Rounding the bend in the creek, Rey looked up from the stones he had been kicking to find himself nose to nose with another sulking kid. Both kids froze, startled out of their lonely thoughts.

Hey! You got some stuff on yer face! the other kid blurted out.

Ohhh! Rey turned his back and ripped the fur tonsorial touches he’d forgotten to leave in his room. He turned with his fists raised. Don’t make fun of me!

No, no. The kid stepped back, hands raised. The boy had one plaid shirttail hanging out of his baggy jeans, which were rolled to different lengths, and his shoes were untied, the laces dragging in the gravel behind him. You look like one of those beatnik people I saw in San Francisco. I went up there last weekend with my uncle and all them.

Yeah? Rey was still too embarrassed to look the kid in the eye.

Yeah, they got beards—just like the stuff you had on yer face.

Oh yeah. Rey lowered his fists and his guard. I wanted to look like the Jack of Hearts in my poker cards. My mom’s friend brought them for me from Lake Tahoe. Rey often had to defend himself at school and avoided contact with most of the other kids. He spent most of his free time trying not to be noticed.

I wanna be a beatnik when I grow up. Only I got this crummy yellow hair that sticks out all over the place. They all gots hair yer color. His curly blonde hair was parted on the side and flattened with pomade, but defiantly it grew toward the sky like two opposing triangles.

Yeah. A beatnik! But I want a mustache too. Rey felt his chin and lip for signs of growth.

I think you gotta wait a while for that to happen.

I know, but I’ve been shaving around it so it’ll grow faster. It’s just taking too long. That’s why I taped this piece of fur on my chin.

The boy stepped back and asked, That wasn’t from something you found down here in the creek, was it?

No. My mom bought it for me yesterday at the Goodwill Store. Rey felt his face turn red as he remembered his mother’s reaction to his new facial hair.

Yeah, neat! What’s yer name?

Rey, he said with some trepidation. It’s really Reymundo, but I like Rey better.

Rey-what-o? The new kid gave Rey a sideways glance, leaning forward as if looking to see what was different about him. Most kids at school usually laughed or made fun of Rey’s name. He would get angry and a teacher would have to break up the fight. I ain’t never heard a name like that before. I’m Randy. I come down here so nobody will look at me. My mom took me to the barber. I tell’m to cut my hair like… like… well, like yers, but I don’t think he knows how and I always end up looking stupid.

They didn’t shake hands; they simply stood shuffling their feet around in the gravel.

Rey was puzzled that the conversation about his name didn’t go any further than it did. He had seen Randy at school always walking around alone. His clothes were very plain and most of the time he wore a big, puffy, green jacket, even when it wasn’t cold. I think I’ve seen you at school.

Yeah? I hate school and everybody there. Randy’s eyes popped open and he became animated. Hey, I found this squiggly thing in the mud down there under a wooden box! Come on, I’ll show you! Randy turned, his pace quickened as he motioned for Rey to follow.

Rey noticed how much taller Randy was, although he thought they were in the same grade. I’m in third grade. Aren’t you in Mrs. Sheer’s class?

Yeah, I guess. Why?

I don’t know… I’d like to be in her class.

You would? Why? Randy asked, kicking an old milk carton.

I think she’s pretty. I’d be looking at her all the time.

Yuck! One day at lunch, I walked into her room and I seen her pick’n her nose. She’s married, anyways. Her husband’s probably ugly, with big zits. I bet they have booger fights after dinner all the time! Randy hesitated for a moment. I’m supposed to be in forth grade. They say I have ‘lack of enthusiasm’ and told my mom I gotta wait a year till I get some more.

They continued down the creek remembering their individual troubles and forgetting about the squiggly thing in the mud they had been looking for.

My parents don’t like me as much as they like my sisters. I got three of’m. I heard my mom say she never looked pretty, so she dresses my sisters like they’re her dolls or something. Randy’s shoe went through the old milk carton he was kicking and he finished his explanation while bouncing around trying to extricate himself. I guess they don’t give me much clothes ’cause they ain’t no boy dolls. I don’t care. Don’t make no sense to dress up for something you hate. There! He freed himself, expressing his relief with a long whistle. Now I know what it’s like ta have ta get away from an alligator. My father has a ’lectronics company. Anyways, he don’t like me much, neither.

Yeah? My father makes fun of me. Sometimes he goes away for a long time. Sometimes he’s gone so long I have a birthday by the time he comes back. They walked along, kicking up dust as they went.

After a short silence, they were talking, laughing and bragging about everything they knew and some things they didn’t know. Rey remembered that Randy hadn’t made a big deal about his Spanish name and realized that Randy understood because he knew how it felt to be different. Rey had seen Randy with his mother driving through the neighborhood in their brand new 1958 Thunderbird. He always thought Randy looked out of place in such a fancy car. It was almost as if his mother wasn’t actually his but had found him and was returning him to someone else.

Rey pulled the wad of fur from his pocket. Huffing and puffing, he tried tearing the fur in half. You want some of my fur so you can have a goatee too?

Here—this might work better. Randy took the pocketknife his grandfather had given him from his pocket. He cut the fur in half and stuck it to his chin. Um… for next time, I got some glue that’ll work better than this tape.

Randy and Rey explored more of the creek that day than Rey had ever seen before.

You think your mom will be worried? Rey asked his new friend. We’ve been gone a long time.

Nah, she’s asleep. She works at night, Randy explained, so they kept on going farther and farther down the foothills, climbing over boulders, sliding under downed trees, throwing rocks into stagnant pools, making a game of splashing mud on each other.

Hey, look! I stole some matches from the kitchen! Randy pulled a handful of stick matches from his front pocket, dropping some in the process.

What are we gonna do with matches? Rey grew concerned. He knew matches were not to be played with but thought that perhaps Randy would have some idea of how to use them for having fun.

Watch this—I can light’m with my thumb nail! Randy scraped the matchstick down the side. With a sizzle and a puff of smoke, a flash of fire appeared. He flicked it at Rey.

Jumping aside, Rey clinched his fists and tightened his lips.

Randy let out a belly laugh and reached out with half the matches. Here—let’s pretend we’re fighter pilots!

Rey took the matches. His frown softened, his brow bunched up, and his lips parted as he studied the matches. Rey mimicked Randy’s scraping motion, but the match failed to light.

No, no, don’t scrape it so hard, Randy directed.

Rey’s second attempt was a success, but the sulfur under his thumbnail ignited. Yeow!! He jumped around, waving his hand in an attempt to put out the fire. Even though it hurt, Rey had learned the trick and returned fire, flicking lighted matchsticks as he chased Randy, both laughing and yelling at the tops of their lungs.

Randy waited for his chance to return the attack. Yer a Russian spy plane and I’m gonna blow you to smithereens!

They launched burning rockets continuing their dogfight quite a way down the creek until they had spent their arsenals. Laughing and out of breath, they turned and headed back up the creek toward home.

I probably need to go home and eat now. Rey’s eyes lit up. Hey, you wanna come over? My mom’s a really good cook. She’s always looking at cookbooks and stuff. You’ll like her! Rey beamed at the idea of having a friend to bring home to meet his mom.

They slung their arms over one another’s shoulders and walked along, kicking up dirt and sand, howling like young coyotes. As they rounded a corner of the creek, Randy shouted, Egads! That’s the biggest fire I’ve ever made!

Did we do that? Rey screamed, horrified to see firsthand why he’d been told never to play with matches.

No, it was the matches that did it! Randy grabbed Rey’s arm and ran toward the fire that grew more impressive with each step. We gotta put it out! Scooping up double handfuls of sandy gravel, they showered the fire, over and over again. It’s no use! It’s too big!

The fire grew hotter and began to consume more of the weeds and bushes around it. They couldn’t work fast enough to put it out. They backed away as the intense heat began to engulf a tree and worked its way up the creek bank to a pile of packing crates and hay bales behind the feed store.

What do we do now? Rey yelled.

Wild eyed, Randy grabbed Rey’s arm. We gotta get outta here! Come on!

Where’re we going? Rey flailed along involuntarily.

We’re go’n home!

What about the fire?

We have ta leave it here!

Rey dug his feet into the gravel pulling Randy to a stop. Look how high up the fire is going!

No shit, Sherlock! Come on. Let’s get outta here!

Wait! Listen.

Yeah! It’s a siren! We’ll rot in jail if they catch us! Come on! Randy pulled Rey along by the arm.

* * *

Dios mío! Angelina thought out loud while she ironed her husband Luis’ denim work shirt. I wondered what all that commotion was about. That fire’s just down the creek near Cupertino.

Rey wouldn’t look up and tried to think of a way to get out of the living room. He was afraid his mother might get suspicious because he usually looked forward to spending that time with his mom, asking her to explain what the news commentator meant.

Rey, m’ijo, did you see anything unusual in the creek today?

No! I mean… yeah, Rey stammered, well, I made a new friend today. His name is Randy, but we didn’t see anybody else or anything. Rey was trying to stay calm, but his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears and he thought his mother could probably see it beating through his shirt. Rey went to the window. He lives down there—in the cul-de-sac. I invited him over for lunch, but we forgot and he went home.

Did you see a fire today, m’ijo? Angelina’s eyes followed him back to where he was playing with his plastic farm animals.

No… and neither did Randy! He goes to my school… He’s in third grade, too, because he flunked last year… He has yellow jungle-bunny hair!

Ay, m’ijo! Where did you learn those words? Angelina put her ironing down and knelt on the highly polished wood floor next to Rey.

Remember the boy that works at the gas station? He called those people jungle bunnies when they left. Rey tucked his chin, his eyes looking up at his mother, his lips pursed.

Names like that hurt people’s feelings, honey. Remember when those mean kids at school made fun of your name? Sometimes you can’t change what other people don’t like about you. Do you understand that, m’ijo?

Rey bunched up his eyebrows and rolled his bottom lip over in shame. Yes, Mom. I’m sorry. My new friend Randy—he isn’t mean like the gas station boy or the mean kids at school. He’s different from anybody I’ve ever known in my whole life! I bet you’ll like him too, Mom!

Chapter 3

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The Black Widow Gang

Thirsty, hot and sweaty, Randy and Rey trudged along looking like walking clothes hampers. After they had eaten their fill of pears from the orchard at the edge of the valley, they loaded their army surplus knapsacks with more pears to take home to their mothers. They had left home early that morning to explore a cave that rushing water had scooped out from under an overpass the winter before.

A’right already! Randy walked along shaking his head from side to side like a bored elephant. I didn’t bring my canteen ’cause in the cowboy movies they always lay on the ground and drink from the stream. Ain’t my fault the only water holes were all mucked up!

Rey stomped along about five feet ahead of him. It’s summer time, goofball! It only rains in the winter! I’m not sharing my water with you next time.

Yes, mother. Randy rolled his eyes.

Rey slowed his pace, feeling Randy had been sufficiently scolded.

Hey wait; listen! Randy blasted off a fart. Hurry, before a tree dies and falls on top of us! It was summer between their fourth and fifth grades and Randy had outgrown Rey by a few more inches. Boy, I sure am glad it didn’t smell that bad when I ate it!

One of these days, you’re going to cave the whole creek in on us! Rey howled, his laugh muscles were always sore after spending time with Randy. As they walked past the deserted school, Rey mentioned, You know what? That cave kind of scared me.

What d’ya mean?

Well— Rey thought for a minute. It scared me ’cause I thought if it caved in on us nobody would ever know where we had gone. They’d think we just disappeared!

Whatever. Randy looked Rey straight in the eye, holding him there for a moment. "You sound like Barney Fife on Andy of Mayberry. He’s afraid of his own shadow!"

No, I’m not… least I don’t think so.

They wandered on in silence when Randy suddenly crouched and signaled to Rey. Wait; listen!

Yeah, yeah, you’ve already used that one… Rey continued shuffling along.

Randy cut Rey off, holding his index finger up to his lips, No, really; listen. He motioned for Rey to follow and they hunched down like lions stalking prey.

Rounding the bend, concealed by bushes and overhanging limbs, Rey heard the sounds become more urgent and disturbing. Through the foliage they could see a group of four or five boys taunting another, calling him names, shoving him, then knocking him to the ground.

Hey! That’s the new kid! Rey saw Randy’s anger flash at the sight of one kid, a husky boy, trying to fight off a whole gang. Come on, let’s go help’m!

Wait, Randy, wait! Rey whispered, pointing up, Let’s go up the side of the creek and bombard them with rocks and stuff!

Even better! Let’s go!

They ran along the top of the bank, ducking behind tall grass and brush. Rey imagined himself as an Indian about to ambush a wagon train. Randy pulled an overly ripe pear from his knapsack. With a major league pitcher’s windup and a mighty heave, he let fly a mushy pear grenade.

SPLAT! A direct hit to the side of the tallest kid’s head! The kid stumbled and hit the gravel screaming.

Whooping and hollering, Rey and Randy rained pears, rocks