Best Decorated Little Whorehouse in Mexico

That shot wasn't even heard by Ray Williams who was busy selling his house in Weslaco, Texas, buying a house in Brownsville, Texas and moving his family there in preparation for assuming the job of manager of the largest paint store in that city. The store was a very profitable one, was located only three blocks from the International Bridge and Ray couldn't wait to get started. His first day at work, Ray learned his first assignment: collect a $375 past due bill from the Gold Palace night club in "La Zona" in Matamoros. he would need to talk to the widow of Enrique DeNava who was now in charge of all Enrique's holdings. Ray wondered why the Credit Manager didn't make the collection but it seemed the Credit Manager didn't make collections in Mexico. The Account Salesman didn't make collections because the company felt sales personnel shouldn't burn bridges by doing collection work, but of course the main reason was the Account Salesman and the Credit Manager were Mexican-Americans and were looked down upon by the Mexicans who called them "Pochos" (Poachers). It seems that in the scheme of things in 1965 Mexicans preferred to deal with Anglo-Americans who they considered "pure" Americans, just as they themselves were "pure" Mexicans and not like those poachers who looked and talked like Mexicans but were really Americans in disguise. Yes, better to put up with the faltering Gringo Spanish and frequent misunderstandings than to deal with an IMPOSTOR! There was no other way but that Ray should make the collection. Ray was no neophyte to Boy's Town; he had taken his share of customers to dinner and "The Tour". Ray always paid, or I should say let the company pay, for dinner and drinks for his customers, but both Ray and the company felt it wise to draw the line on paying for a girl for a client. I don't know that Ray or the company could articulate an explanation for this. It could have been that they felt the client's sex life was too personal an affair to be financed with company money or there could have been deep concerns for culpability in matters of venereal disease or , God forbid, public disclosure. You never knew when some local fundamentalist preacher would go on a rampage into Boy's Town, as the police say "kicking ass and TAKING NAMES". For the local businessmen another pitfall is turning a corner and coming face to face with his teenage son. This is followed by inept excuses on both sides for being there and a final commitment on both sides that "we won't discuss this with your mother, OK?"

Ray knew the drill. The personnel in Boy's Town don't get up much earlier than 4 PM. After all they worked until 4 am, so you don't go collecting money at 2pm, at least not if you want to COLLECT the money. Ray planned his collection trip to arrive in Boy's Town around 1 am. The night's frantic rush should be over by then, most of the clients having either hit the showers already or possibly having some dysfunctional problems back in the room. That first night Ray entered the Gold Palace, admired the beautiful Monterrey Terrazzo dance floor bordered by underground lighted glass bricks and was reminded by the signs on the wall that Brownsville and Matamoros had the finest sign artists this side of Dallas or that side of Mexico City. La Senora DeNava was behind the cash register; if the Gold Palace should turn into The Alamo, that is where the Senora would remain to take her last stand to fight and die there behind her cash register. The Senora looked like she just might have fought at the Alamo, although on which side was anyone's guess.