Body Slammed! (19 page)

Heading south on I-35, Jesse and TJ joked and laughed. They talked about football, wrestling and girls. Jesse couldn't recall when he'd had this much fun, and they hadn't done anything yet.

After a while, their energy subsided, and they rode in silence. Jesse curled up in his seat and took a nap.

TJ cranked up the radio as Jim Morrison belted out “Light My Fire.”

His pops hated the music TJ listened to, which TJ couldn't understand. The music came from his pops' generation. But then, his pops rarely listened to music. His car radio buttons were all set on conservative talk radio stations.

A few miles outside of Laredo, Jesse woke up. He looked out the window at the dry, grassy, open land. He thought about why they were traveling to Mexico, and a disturbing image of Johnny Surfer appeared in his mind.

Johnny Surfer was a long-time jobber in the ACW who had died of a heart attack at age thirty-two. Jesse's father said that the real cause of Surfer's death was an enlarged heart, brought on by excessive steroid use.

Jesse sat up and told TJ, “My coach says that taking steroids isn't safe. He says that they can cause all kinds of health problems. Is that true?”

TJ gathered his thoughts. Then he said, “Well, it depends on what you mean by safe. Is it safe to eat red meat? There's research that says that eating red meat can cause heart disease. They even say that red meat contributes to the development of cancer.” He turned down the volume on the radio. “But that's not stopping McDonald's from selling Big Macs, right? The thing is, Jesse, you've gotta live your life. You can't be scared of trying out new things just 'cause they might be risky. Life is all about risks.”

TJ made sense. Sort of. Except that the difference between hamburgers and steroids was that it wasn't illegal to eat a hamburger.

Still, Jesse couldn't help wonder what effects steroids would have on his body if he decided to take them. Would they build up his muscles like Popeye's? Would he look like Lloyd Dinsmore? He wanted to ask TJ to help him buy steroids, but he hadn't built up the nerve to ask him yet. He had brought along eighty dollars that he had withdrawn from his bank account just in case. Maybe he would ask TJ about the steroids once they were at the pharmacy.

Shortly before noon, they arrived in downtown Laredo. Already, long lines had begun to form, as hundreds of Mexican nationals, as well as tourists and shoppers, made their way toward the Juárez-Lincoln International Bridge to cross into Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, Mexico.

TJ slammed his hand on the steering wheel and swore. “This is what I was afraid of. It's gonna take forever to cross.”

Jesse looked at his watch and calculated how much time he had left.
Checkmate
would end at around ten o'clock, but his grandmother would expect him home soon after that. If he had to, he could call to say that he was staying at Wally's a little longer. But he had school the next day, and his grandmother would want him home no later than eleven.

As they inched along the highway, TJ said, “When we get to the border, the first thing they'll wanna know is where we're from. Since I'm a gringo, they'll probably ask us in English, but you never know. That's where you come in.”

Jesse thought about what the question would sound like in Spanish. “
¿De dónde son ustedes?”
He would reply for the both of them:
“Somos de San Antonio.”

“And from what I've been told, they'll also wanna know why we're going to Mexico,” TJ said. “You tell them that we wanna to do some shopping and that we'll return to the U.S. as soon as we're done.”

That part was tougher. Jesse wasn't sure if he could say all that in Spanish.

His palms grew clammy, and his arm pits began to leak as reality began to sink in. What was he doing? He had no business going to Mexico. Jesse stared at the sea of cars ahead of them. He wished he could tell TJ to turn back, but it was too late.

“Once we cross the border, we have to find a place called Farmacia Maldonado,” TJ said. “We'll ask for a guy who works there named César Diego. He'll help us get what we need.” TJ patted Jesse on the back. “Hey, buddy, don't
look so serious. Everything's cool.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

W
ally got out of bed and glanced at her wall clock. It was almost ten. She made her way to the kitchen, thinking her mother might be in there, having breakfast.

The coffee pot was on, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. The Sunday newspaper was strewn on the breakfast table. Wally figured her mother had left for her Pilates class.

Samson pawed at the sliding glass door, pleading to be let back in. Wally's mother had put him outside to do his business. Wally opened the door, and Samson trotted to his bowl and nibbled on his food.

Wally poured herself a cup of coffee. She opened the pantry door and took out a box of granola bars, but to her disappointment, the box was empty. She could have sworn there were still two granola bars left.

She tossed the box in the trash can and opened the fridge, wondering what else there was to eat. She brought out the egg carton, thinking she would make scrambled eggs, but she had a better idea. She checked the pantry to see if there was any bread. A few slices remained in the package, more than enough to make French toast.

Wally whisked eggs, milk, cinnamon and a teaspoon of vanilla in a bowl. Then she dipped two slices of bread in the mixture and heated them on the griddle. French toast was one of the first meals her mother had taught her how to make.

Wally sat at the table and searched for the Sunday comics to read while she ate. On the top part of the comics page was
Luann
, Wally's favorite comic strip. In it, Gunther had invited Luann to the dance, but she was putting him off, hoping another boy would ask her to go with him.

Wally touched her lips and sighed, thinking about Jesse's kiss. It had caught her completely by surprise. Yet, she didn't resist. Wally didn't realize Jesse felt that way about her. Sure, she had flirted with him, but she didn't think Jesse took her seriously.

The last boy Wally kissed had been Andrew Albits. They had met the year before, when Wally was a freshman and Andrew was a senior. They went out a few times, but their relationship ended when Andrew graduated and moved to Tempe to attend Arizona State University. He promised to stay in touch, but after two brief emails, Wally never heard from him again.

A jock. Wow. Who would've thought a jock would be interested in her? And on top of that, Jesse's father was one of her all-time favorite wrestlers.

The
Luann
comic strip reminded Wally that the Sadie Hawkins dance was coming up. Maybe she would ask Jesse if he wanted to attend the dance with her. On Sadie Hawkins Day, girls were encouraged to invite the boys to the dance. Wally had initially considered asking her friend Brandon to go with her, but she knew she would have a much better time with Jesse. Besides, Brandon wasn't into girls.

Later, after she finished her chores, Wally thought she might stop by Jesse's house when she took Samson for a walk. Jesse lived quite a distance away, but she didn't mind walking that far. She smiled, thinking about how surprised he would be when he saw them.

Wally turned to Samson, who was sprawled on the floor, gnawing on a rawhide bone. “What do you say, boy? Want to go see Jesse?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T
he Border Patrol guards were dressed in dark-green army uniforms. Officers, standing on the side, held military-assault rifles at the waist, ready for action. Jesse tried not to act nervous, but his heart raced as TJ drove slowly down the NOTHING TO DECLARE lane. A signal light up ahead flashed green, and vehicles passed through without being inspected.

Five cars later, TJ drove up to the checkpoint station. The Border Patrol officer spoke English so Jesse didn't have to translate. TJ calmly explained that they were American citizens from San Antonio, who wanted to spend a Sunday afternoon in Nuevo Laredo to shop for souvenirs and to enjoy great Mexican food.

The officer waved them through. But just as TJ drove forward, a bell rang and the green light turned red. Jesse's eyes widened. Suddenly, he worried about what TJ might have in his car. He glanced in the back seat. Beer bottles and fast-food bags and wrappers cluttered the floor.

A customs agent approached their car. TJ rolled down his window and asked, “What's the problem, officer?”

“Please pull over to the right and step out of the car,” the agent said in broken English.

“Is there something wrong?” TJ asked, furrowing his brows. “'Cause like I told the other gentleman, we're just crossing over to do some shopping.”

“Pull over to the right and step out of the car,” The customs agent repeated, pointing to the inspection station.

“Come on, TJ, don't cause a scene,” Jesse said. “Do what he says.”

TJ huffed with indignation and muttered, “All right.”

When he and Jesse got out, the customs agent asked, “Do you have any firearms or drugs in the car?”

TJ flashed a superior grin. “Take a look for yourself, amigo.”

The agent searched the front and back seats, the glove compartment and the trunk. When he was done, he said, “Enjoy your stay.”

TJ drove across the bridge. When he stopped at a light, he turned to Jesse and said in a thick Mexican accent, “Welcome to México, señor.”

Jesse swallowed dryly. He couldn't believe where he was. As best as he could, he translated the street signs and guided TJ to the shopping district and Avenida Guerrero in downtown Nuevo Laredo.

Dozens of vendors lined the narrow streets, selling everything from chewing gum to table cloths. Cars honked nonstop. Throngs of people walked in and out of shops.

Jesse kept an eye out for the Farmacia Maldonado. He saw a number of other pharmacies: Farmacia Nuevo Laredo, Farmacia Aguilar, Farmacia El Norte, but not the one they wanted.

“Park your car, and I'll ask someone if they know where the pharmacy is,” Jesse said.

TJ drove into a lot where the attendant charged him five American dollars to park. As they got out of the car, a teenage boy about Jesse's age approached them. The boy wore a yellow T-shirt and khaki shorts with tennis shoes, but no socks. He said something in Spanish that Jesse couldn't understand. The boy repeated what he had said, but this time he raised three fingers. He smiled, showing yellow teeth that matched the color of his T-shirt.

Jesse finally figured out what the kid was saying. “He wants you to give him three dollars to watch your car, TJ.”

“But I already gave the attendant five bucks,” TJ said, glaring at the boy.

“I know, but I remember Carlos Montoya telling my father that this is how some people in border towns make their money, by watching parked cars,” Jesse said. “You know, to make sure the cars are still in the lot when the owners return.”

“I'm not giving him anything,” TJ said.

“I think you'd better or something could happen to your car.”

TJ sighed. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and fished out three one-dollar bills. The boy's eyes bulged when he saw the stack of twenties in TJ's wallet.

“You've got quite a little scam running here, don't you, amigo,” TJ told the boy.

“¿Dónde está Farmacia Maldonado?”
Jesse asked.

The boy pointed across the street and said something that Jesse didn't quite understand.

“The pharmacy's over there somewhere,” Jesse told TJ.

TJ scowled at the boy and said, “Nothing better happen to my car, amigo. You
comprende
?”

The boy nodded.

Jesse and TJ crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk, trying not to get separated in the crowds. They passed clothing and shoe stores, jewelry shops and two dentist offices. Vendors sold T-shirts, baseball caps and other souvenirs from tables under sidewalk tents.

Jesse felt surprisingly safe. With this many people around, he didn't think anything bad could happen to them. He checked his watch. They had plenty of time.

“You hungry?” TJ asked.

“A little,” Jesse said. “There's a McDonald's down the street.”

“McDonald's?” TJ laughed. “We didn't come all the way to Mexico to eat at a Mickey Dees. Come on, Jesse. Find us a place that serves authentic Mexican food.”

Jesse spotted a pink building with a sign in front that read, Restaurante La Ciudad. “Let's check out that place.”

The restaurant was empty, which concerned Jesse. Maybe the locals knew something about the place, which was why no one was eating there. Or, he hoped, maybe it was late Sunday afternoon, and business wouldn't pick up until the evening. At any rate the restaurant looked clean.

A man greeted Jesse and TJ and told them they were welcome to sit wherever they pleased. He handed them a couple of menus and left.

TJ tried to read his menu, but none of the dishes looked familiar. “Anything here you can recommend, Jesse?” he asked.