Boulevard of Dreams by Mandy Gonzalez

Author:Mandy Gonzalez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2022-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Relly gasped as he reached for the flyer. He held his breath, pulling the paper close. He immediately recognized the name. When he breathed out, Relly knew it was the same name the instructor had said to the kid in one of the visions. On the flyer was a black-and-white image of a man tap-dancing on stage. Relly recognized that man, too. He was the one from the bodega. He was Slyde.

Nine 3:00 P.M.

Five hours until Our Time

“Round the World. A four-week tour when tap dancers perform at different venues. Round the Worlds start in Harlem, they go off to Philadelphia to perform at the Standard. Then they head to Baltimore. Ever been to Baltimore?”

Relly nodded. He had, for a family vacation. Grandpa Gregory had come along too.

“Well, the theater there is called the Royal. Then the dancers head to one last stop in Washington, DC. But you know what really gets me frosted?”

“Frosted?” Hudson asked.

“Daddy can perform at some of these venues, but some places won’t even let Black folks sit in the audience. If Daddy wants to get a bite to eat after the show, they make him go backstage or off premises. Ain’t that a trip?” Lloyd stuffed the flyer back in his satchel. He sat up straight and puffed out his chest. “That’s why he likes to perform at these theaters during Round the Worlds. They are all Black venues, so he doesn’t have to worry about folks telling him off for being in the wrong dressing room. Some folks think segregation is only in the South; it is not.”

“What other dancers are there, Lloyd?” Relly asked.

“There’s Bunny Briggs, you’ll know him when you see his eyes. Has tap style that’s real delicate. Got legs that move like an earthquake. Then there’s Peg Leg Bates; Clayton’s his real name. You’ve probably seen him on the Ed Sullivan Show. The sound his taps make is different all ’cause of his special leg. He’s acrobatic with his steps. Then there’s my dad, Slyde.” Lloyd waved. “Guess what he’s known for!”

“Slides!” said Relly.

“How’d you know?” asked Lloyd.

“I think I’ve seen him before.”

“Well, that’s just copacetic. Say, you wanna come to the Lafayette? You wanna see my dad perform? You wanna see Slyde slide? You wanna go to the best theater in New York City? I like to think of it as Harlem’s littlest big secret.”

“Yes!” Relly said, louder than what he intended.

“Well, it’s my job to find people to attend the show. I gotta warn you, though. My dad, Slyde, he’s got the pits.”

“The pits?” Hudson asked.

“Down in the dumps, understand? Feels he’s losing his flow, get me?”

“Why?” Relly asked, scraping up the last bit of food on his plate.

“All ’cause he thinks people don’t want to see or hear tap anymore. He’s starting to think he should try out a new career. Folks are now listening to that electric, rocking noise with that guy—what’s his name?”

“Elvis!” Hudson hollered.

“Elvis?” Lloyd repeated. “No, I’m talking about Jackie Brenston and his Delta Cats.

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