At the wedding between the two coyote families, El Low Rider was looking for a tall green-eyed brunette he’d been exchanging hand waves for several Sunday vueltas in a row.
“That’s the girl,” El Low Rider said when the young woman entered the dancehall late in the evening.
“You know her?” Boy asked him.
“Sirol, she’s been saying hello to me all summer. I even talked to her a toda madres last Sunday and she said she was coming to this wedding,” said El Low Rider.
Boy took a deep breath.
“Pos you’re out of luck now, ese. She went to the main coyote family table. And as you know, you can’t get there from here,” Boy repeated what he had heard.
“Chale. I can go anywhere in here I want,” said El Low Rider.
With that, he got up and started walking to the coyote table.
El Low Rider was an arranque (brave)-type vato (more on arranque in a later episode). Friendly and generous with friends, and in-you-face foe with his detractors.
Everybody at the low rider table looked on in disbelief.
“Watcha that they tell him to back off,” said a man at their table.
“They’ll call over the guard and have him escorted out just for approaching their table,” said a middle-aged woman sitting next to Boy.
About that time, El Low Rider reached the coyotes’ table and extended his hand to the brunette.
“Eeee! They’re gonna throw him out,”said woman sitting across the table from Boy almost frantically.
But she was immediately proven wrong, as El Low Rider had no sooner extended his hand, than the girl got up and went to the dance floor with him.
Everybody at the low rider table was surprised. Everybody at the coyotes’ table looked equally surprised.
Even the dance floor cleared a little to watch El Low Rider and his unlikely companion start to dance.
A few steps into the dance, a mazurka, the brunette overtly grabbed El Low Rider’s collar, pulled him toward her, and kissed him.
“She pinchoneared him and didn’t care who was watching!” jeered a young man at Boy’s table.
Everybody turned to see what the reaction was at the coyote table.
The reaction was the same. The coyotes who’d been sitting with the young woman looked at each other and shook their heads. But nobody got up to challenge El Low Rider, as his reputation as an arranque was well known.
“Whatalos! They’re still pichoneando,” said the middle-aged woman at their table.
“I see it,” said Boy, jealous.
