Cover by Rocky Kelley
As we barrel toward the August 29 premiere of Rayguns Over Texas at LoneStarCon 3 (aka the 71st Annual World Science Fiction Convention) in San Antonio, I am presenting book excerpts, one contributor per day.
Today’s selection comes from Bradley Denton‘s “La Bamba Boulevard.”
One of the two reprinted stories in Rayguns Over Texas, Denton’s lyrical piece functions as an ideal companion to his award-winning novel Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede as well as stand alone tale of ghostly Hollywood.
“Ritchie Valens, right?” I said. “Nice job.” I didn’t have any cash on me for a tip or a photo, but I thought the kid at least deserved a compliment for authenticity.
He smiled. “Hey, you recognized me!”
I smiled back. “Sure. And thank you for your offer, but I already know where Buddy’s star is going to be. All I meant was that you received your star first. Have a good night, now.” I started westward toward Grauman’s again.
But the Ritchie character came with me, matching my stride, and I grimaced. This was what I got for speaking to one of these jokers.
“Well, look at it this way,” Ritchie said. “L.A. is my hometown. I was born in Pacoima. So, you know, they had to honor the native son. And it’s not like they just gave it to me the moment I died. I had to wait until 1990.”
I didn’t say anything in reply, even though those were good points.
“Besides,” Ritchie continued, “isn’t it cool that Buddy’ll get his star on his 75th birthday? Not a bad present, if you ask me.”
I still didn’t respond. Maybe if I stayed quiet, he’d get the message and leave me alone.
He moved closer to avoid colliding with a pack of young bucks in sparkly suits, and the headstock of his Strat whapped me on the elbow. It sent an electric jolt up to my right shoulder, and I flinched away, which made my left shoulder ram into a No Parking sign.
Now I was beyond annoyed. I glared at Ritchie and walked faster.
But Ritchie, still smiling, sped up as well. “You’re going to Buddy’s unveiling ceremony tomorrow, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “That’s good. That means you’ll get to see him.”
We had reached the sidewalk in front of Grauman’s Chinese, where Marilyn, Luke, Darth Vader, Bogie, and SpongeBob Squarepants, among others, were all accosting passersby with snappy, seductive patter and sporadic lightsaber battles. Meanwhile, watching it all, Spider-Man was crouched atop a garbage can chained to a lamppost.
I stopped walking and looked at Ritchie.
“Yes, I’ll see Buddy’s Walk of Fame star tomorrow, along with everyone else,” I said. “But I don’t think I’ll see Buddy. You guys only come out at night.”
Ritchie’s eyes widened, and then he threw back his head and laughed. It was loud and chiming, and it echoed back from the tall, ornate facade of Grauman’s. But no one else on the sidewalk seemed to notice.
I tried to step around him to get to the plaza in front of the theater where all the movie stars had left their marks. But at that moment Ritchie stopped laughing and swung the neck of his guitar to block my way.
“You’re wrong,” he said then, his voice suddenly serious. “You’ll see Buddy tomorrow. You’ll see him over and over again. In the flesh. I’ll make you a bet on that.”
I began glancing around for a police officer, but the only one I saw in the milling crowd was RoboCop.
All right, then. Maybe if I humored Ritchie, he’d bug off. “Okay,” I said. “What’s the bet?”
Ritchie grinned. “If I’m wrong, and you don’t see Buddy, I’ll play any song you want as long as it’s not ‘La Bamba.’ And if I’m right, you promise to do two things tomorrow before midnight: One must be something new and different that you haven’t done before, but that you plan to do again. And the other must be something new and different that you haven’t done before, but that you’ll never do again. And I’ll still play any song you want as long as it’s not ‘La Bamba.’”
Excerpt from “La Bamba Boulevard” © 2011 by Bradley Denton.