Chapter 1: In the Beginning

In the Beginning


Let’s see, it all began on a beautiful spring day, in the heart of the ATL, in underground Atlanta. I remember like it was yesterday. Yeah…I just applied to this Tex-Mex restaurant for a job as a bar back. Yeah…that’s right, it was the year 1991— the Bush era was upon us. My name is Rico; you see I had just moved here from Illinois. I had just withdrawn from college there, and transferred down to Atlanta to go to The Art Institute of Atlanta. I was majoring in communications while attending Southern Illinois University at Carbondale and decided to get in the music business program they had at The Art Institute of Atlanta. At that time, I didn’t have too much going on, you know when you are young you can’t seem to make up your mind and that was the case in my situation. I hadn’t quite figured out what I was going to do with my life yet, but this music program sure had my attention. The program entailed learning the specifics of becoming a recording engineer; you know running the board creating, mixing and mastering music. The program had my interest so much so that I picked up and moved to Atlanta to investigate further.

I remember making a deal with my father in regards to paying for the school. They wanted $40,000 to attend a two-year program in recording engineering. That was $20,000 a year. I was attending SIU for practically little to nothing in comparison due to the fact that my father was on staff there as a clinical psychologist. I wonder sometimes how things would have worked out if I had stayed and finished school there. Never mind—I have no regrets.

So there I was filling out the application at this Tex-Mex joint for a bar back position. The restaurant was located on the bottom floor of underground Atlanta in the corner. Adjacent to the right if you were standing looking out of the doorway there was a pub called Groundhogs and to the left there was a bar called The Shark Bar. As you walk into the Tex-Mex restaurant/bar you have to wade through a wall of smoke, and to the left there was this nice long bar where patrons could sit and enjoy a smoke and shoot the shit, among other things. To continue further, straight inside, you venture into the most festive scenery you could imagine. There were tasteful wall hangings of sombreros that stretched for miles, with the gold thread interlaced and intricately weaved. Then there were the vibrant splashes of color from the native fabric of Mexico that were placed strategically throughout the establishment. Did I mention the piñatas that were placed here and there, all throughout the restaurant, which added to that authentic look? As you ventured further ahead you would run into the hole they called the manager’s office, which resembled a closet. If you were to follow that hallway you would pass the kitchen and come to a set of stairs that would lead you to the upstairs bar. I spent the majority of my time at the upstairs bar, where Tonya was stationed.

Now a bar back simply stocks the bar with supplies. You know, with whatever the bartender needs: ice, lemons, limes, clean glasses, etc. Well, they had a lot of cool bartenders there, and the wait staff was alright, too. Hey, I can’t forget the cooks, if it wasn’t for them there wouldn’t be a Stacks—that was what we nicknamed the place. The manager, however, was a real dick not to mention an alcoholic. You could find him any given night, slurring his words and hitting on the female wait staff and the bartenders or anything that had two legs and was of the female persuasion. If I remember correctly his name was David or Dave, hell who knows.

So, it was there at Tortilla Stacks that I met my baby; in a Tex-Mex sports bar in underground Atlanta. Of all places right, you just never know where you will find that one. As I recall, looking back in time, I never took notice of her. You see, I had just gotten out of a pretty intense relationship where this young lady tried to get me to marry her. I just wasn’t with it. I just wanted to have a good time like all twenty-year-olds, right! So, I was pretty emotionally drained and was intent on focusing on getting my life together and remaining in school and living my life drama-free.
I wasn’t too excited; hell, I wasn’t even entertaining jumping into another relationship anytime soon. Well, nothing serious that is, well fate would have it another way. No regrets, baby, no regrets!


Let me tell you about Tonya—what a natural beauty to behold. It killed me that this woman used very little makeup. Eventually, I found myself more times than not attracted to her, because she didn’t attract attention to herself with all the superficial hoopla. She could grab and hold your attention by the sum of her beauty and sparkling personality.

So, Tonya was a bartender at Tortilla Stacks and fate would have it that I was her bar back. She was so cool to work with, real laid back, not very demanding, or so I thought, but I’ll save that can of worms for later in the story—just hold your damn horses. So, as I was saying, Tonya and I got along pretty cool. Despite her attractiveness I never gave her a second glance due to me just getting out of a relationship, not to mention she was a little skinny. Just to put to rest of any notions of me being prejudiced, I am here to tell you I am not. I was raised by two open-minded Hipsters who instilled in me the value of accepting people by the fruit of their labors and actions. It’s a proven method when judging your peers who have the gift of gab and the charm and charisma to go with it.

So I figure it was at least a month into the gig before I started getting comfortable with the staff and began hanging out with them after work. For those of you who have ever worked at a restaurant, you know all about the after-work spot the crew frequently attends to chill out and get their drink on. Well, there was this one particular night we got off and headed over to The Shark Bar—which was literally a stone’s throw away from the Stacks. There was a decent crowd there when we arrived, and they were passing out shooters like there was no tomorrow. In no time, I found myself on the dance floor having a real good time. I recall dancing with Tonya a couple of times, and the girl could move. I remember telling myself that she had better watch herself because we were getting a little freaky, and the way they were passing those shooters out I was in the frame of mind to back it up. Well, it would seem I wasn’t the only one thinking that way. The night was sealed with adventurous hands and intense lip lock.

Now, Tonya was twenty-three at the time and had nice silky smooth clear skin with long, luxurious, auburn-red hair, about 5’5”, probably weighing in at 118lbs, small chest, slim build, with medium-thick luscious lips like candy. She is very pleasing to look at and on top of all that, a great conversationalist. She carried herself with a level head and with purpose. From that point on I had no problem getting to work. Hell baby—what’s my motivation! Oh, there were plenty of nights after work, that intense, deep conversation was shared between the two of us. We would get lost into each other with the holding of hands, the staring into each other eyes, time would stand still. After work in the evening, I would get a ride from her to the house. During that time period I was staying with my mom due to the fact I just moved to Atlanta, so we were limited to kisses and heavy petting.
I recall one night arriving at the house and we were not quite ready to call it a night. So we struck up this conversation regarding, hell, the state of the nation and world affairs and umm…from there we Uhh! Well, it went a little something like this.
The seats in the car were reclined in the downright position as far as they would go, I had her straddle me face forward as I grabbed the steering wheel and begin to shift her gears from first to fifth, up and down, slowly working the gears to insure they were engaged fully before shifting to the next one. The damn windows were so foggy we had to turn the defroster on. Oh shit, it just didn’t get any better than that. Now I should put a warning out there that kids, you should not try this at home—only seasoned professionals with hours of driving time can reproduce this without causing an accident.

I was twenty at the time and to get action on a regular basis was no problem. But as a good friend of mine put it, there is a difference between quantity and quality. The quality of action was on another level I’m here to tell you, this woman knew what she was doing and it didn’t take long before I was sprung. That’s right guys—no shame in the game, I admit she had me.




Live to learn to love
Learn to love to live
Love to live to learn
so that you may live the life that you yearn.