Denise and I had a lot of history between us so it was only natural that we were both glad to see each other. We chatted for a good minute before I had to push on, but not before I gave her my pager numbers. It was time from me and my boyz to be on our way, roaming the South Side of Houston. Denise called, we started to spend time together and it was not long before I was asking her to be my girl again. Denise knew I lived with Yolanda, so she questioned me about that. I explained that while we still lived together we weren't together, which was true. It was an odd situation to be in, but Yolanda was Melinda's best friend, so I couldn't put her out whenever we'd break up, and being that Melinda is my cousin, Yolanda couldn't put me out either, plus I was paying half the rent. So even though we'd be broken up, we still had to put up with each other. Denise told me she needed some time to think things over. I could feel where she was coming from, I mean here I am asking her to be my girlfriend, yet I'm living with a girl who's already pregnant with my child. It was a few days later when she gave me her answer, but it came with a warning that if I hurt her again, she'd kill me. Knowing Denise, I had no problem believing she would try.

To show Denise there wasn't anything between Yolanda and I, I'd often have her come by the house. I also started to pick her up from Worthing as well. Tensions sometimes ran high as there were those girls around trying to get a fight started between Denise and Yolanda, pumping Yolanda's head up about another woman coming to her house. Nothing ever came of it though.

It was a cold and rainy day when Denise called me. Right away I noticed her tone matched the weather. There was a really sad note to her. I asked what was wrong and she told me that the same guy I had been fighting with since my days at Attucks had slapped her. You'd have to know Denise to know how odd it was that she had called me. Denise is a fighter, was known for fighting. I asked about where she was and learned that she was at school which was right down the road from where I lived. My motto: I was going to fight for my woman.

When I hung up with Denise I called Q and told him to come pick me up and to make sure he brought his gun, seeing that something was about to go down. Melinda and Yolanda both tried to get me to stay home. I wasn't trying to hear none of that though. Melinda, having almost lost me a little over a month before, wasn't trying to sit back and do nothing. Yolanda and her made threats about how they would both kick Denise's ass if something happened to me. Melinda I believed; she was known as a tough fighter in her days as well, still I wasn't trying to hear it. So being helpless to stop me, she called my mom. Just so happens my mom and Q drove up right about the same time. But before my mom got a chance to find out what was going on or say anything to me, I was gone, 9mm in hand…

They didn't know, they didn't understand that this didn't really have anything to do with Denise. Dude didn't hit Denise because of anything she had done, he hit her because he wanted to get at me but knew he couldn't handle me. This is the same cat who had tried to jump on Q as a way to get at me and got his ass beat, so if he really wanted to get at me I was gonna give him some of me. Only this time I was looking to do major damage. Q knew Worthing inside and out, so the plan was for Q to go in and flush him out and I'd confront him as he came out. I sat there on Reed and Scott waiting with pistol in hand thinking about what I would do once he came out, but he never showed. Q returned to tell me that dude had seen us drive up and had run from the class he was supposed to have been in. We decided to roam the hood some hoping to run into him, but we never did, at least not that day…

Shortly after that Denise and I broke up. Not that we broke up, we just sort of stopped seeing each other. It was part of a pact Yolanda and I had made. While home together one night, Yolanda decided she wanted to talk, and talk we did. We decided that we wanted to be together. Like I've said, our breaking up wasn't anything new. We could get into an argument over a little of nothing and one of us would announce that our relationship was over and curse the other out. This time rather than break up when we had problems we'd stay together and try to work things out. As part of that pact, we decided that we'd cut contact with all other relationships. From then on, Yolanda and I treated each other as if we were married.

I can't recall what happened, all I know is that Melinda and I got into an argument and she put me out. I did not have anywhere else to go, so I went to live with my mom and Yolanda came with me. Talk about a strain. My mom never thought Yolanda was any good for me so it was difficult living in the same house with them two to say the least.

March 8th, 1991: Tikeira Renee' Howard came into this world and I was there to greet her. I ain't even gonna sit here and front like it was one of those romantic scenes off of T.V. where I'm there holding Yolanda's hand. No, I was not letting her dig her nails into my arm as I tried to coach her about how to breathe while she screamed that it was all my fault and how she was going to get me for causing her all that pain of childbirth. No, it was nothing like that. I was down with the doctor watching my new daughter as she came into this world. I was watching as they cleaned out her nose and mouth and helped her breathe her first breath or life. I watched as they checked her to make sure she was okay; I saw as they hit her on the feet to make her cry. I was the first to hold her. I knew a father's love right at that moment. I can only say that it's an experience I'll always cherish.

I wish I could say Tikeira's birth slowed me down. I wish I could say that I took more time to think about my life and it's direction, if for no one else's sake, for my little girl's. I wish I could, but I can't. Don't get me wrong now, I was spending a great deal more time at home and around my family. I was busy showing Tikeira off to everyone I had a chance to. But then there was those days when I had to hit the streets; it was as if the streets was calling me or something. I just had to get back out there. Some nights we didn't do anything, some nights we just hung out on the streets in one of our spots smoking weed and cigarettes and drinking beer and maybe some cheap whiskey. Some nights we just roamed the streets doing nothing more than roaming, or perhaps we'd go to one of our homes and listen to some of the latest music while playing dominoes. Some nights we might go to the park and play basketball, some nights we looked for a party. That was some nights. The others we found ourselves criming.
Living with my mom didn't last long at all. It got to the point where she and Yolanda just couldn't continue to live under the same roof, so we had to go. I was too proud to ask Melinda to let us return to living with her, so I was left with only one choice, I was forced to go back to living with my dad. I had many reasons not to want to live with him. First off, he lived on the North Side, but most important to me was that I just didn't want to be under his control again. But it turned out okay. I don't know if it was due to my having a family of my own or what, but my dad seemed to understand that the days of beating me or even hitting me was far gone. However he made it clear when we first went to stay with him that if we wanted to stay, we'd have to go to school or get jobs.

Looking back on that time, I think we might have done much better if one of us would have gotten a job while the other went to school, but we both decided we wanted to go to school. We went to a business training school where we both took Computer Data Entry classes. The plan was that Yolanda would take the morning classes while I took care of Tikeira, then I'd take Tikeira to school with me to give to Yolanda while I took the afternoon classes. It worked out for a while, that is until we decided to change the gameplan.

We got a chance to have one of my cousins baby-sit for us while we went to school, so we got our classes changed so that we went to school at the same time. My dad didn't think that was a good idea, but I wasn't trying to hear it. Some of the teachers and students there knew we was together, but didn't know just how close. We didn't just have school hours together, we had a lot of classes together as well. And that is where the drama came. One day while in class, an instructor caught Yolanda not paying attention and asked her a question on the subject he was talking about. Being put on front street like that, she decided to pop fly with him right from the start. He responded, and she said something off the wall, and he told her to get out of his class while saying something crazy to her. My motto, I went off on his ass and we both left class and that was the end of school for both of us.

Knowing what my dad would have to say, we went looking for a job and found work at KFC. Knowing we was together, they rarely put us on the same shift, which really wasn't that much of a bad idea knowing what took place at school. It was hard for a minute, and my dad did what he could to help us out. Things started to look a whole lot better when Yolanda's uncle gave us a car, an old car but a car nonetheless. My dad and his friends checked the running condition of the car while I went to work installing a stereo system, one of a few I had from my days of auto theft.

We got back on our feet and most of our money went to fixing the car up and taking care of ourselves. Being that neither of us had friends on the North Side, it wasn't long before we was hitting the South Side at every chance, and it wasn't much longer until we was moving back in with my cousin Melinda.

Being back on the South Side meant being near my crime potnaz again. Although we didn't resume our every night car cranking days, we'd still do it every now and then. That was how I ended up in the back of a stolen van with Ken, Ed Lover, Kilo, and Q, when we pulled into Danielle's driveway. There was a few girls outside when we drove up and although I didn't see Denise, she was the reason I was in the back of the van; I still kept her threat in mind.

Some girl who I didn't know came out to see who was in the van, and after speaking to Ken, Kilo, Ed Lover, and Q, she went back to tell the others. Danielle, knowing that I ran with this crew, knew or suspected that I had to be the stranger. Ol' girl came back asking my name, and to be sure she had the right Ron, she asked if I had a scar on my neck. Once I confirmed that I did, she went slap off on me, talking about how I was so wrong for having done Denise as I had done! I was thinking she was going a little overboard over a breakup, so I asked what she was talking about. That's when she told me that I was wrong for getting Denise pregnant and leaving her…Denise Is Pregnant!?!?!

Hearing that Denise was pregnant blew me away. I called her when I got home that night. When I asked her about it, she seemed like she was already resigned to the idea that she didn't need anyone's help and would only tell me that I didn't have to worry about her or her baby. But I wasn't trying to hear that, yet she wasn't trying to hear me either. Once again, I had hurt her.

I took the risk of going to see her the next day. And believe me, it was a risk given that she had told me what she would do if I hurt her again. But that didn't stop me, I had to go see her if she forgave me or not. We talked and still she wouldn't tell me if the baby was mine or not. But I knew in my heart, I knew and I also knew why she wouldn't tell me. I had hurt her once again. I started to go by to see her more often just to check on her and spend time with her. Somehow during that time she and I was able to go back to being friends once again…

After a while, driving to the North Side to go to work got old, so I put in for a transfer to a store near to where I lived on Reed and Cullen. It didn't take long for the transfer to go through, nor did it take long to get to know my manager, a short something by the name of Susan. I think I was there for about two weeks when Susan got a glimpse into my personal life.

One day while at work, Yolanda came wanting to get the car. As we stood outside talking I noticed a large crowd down the road. When I asked Yolanda what was going on, she told me she had heard that Joe and Darian had been shot. Susan came out to check on me, noticed the crowd too, and wanted to know what was going on. I explained that some of my friends had been shot and also asked for the day off so I could go check on them.

Spillers, it was one of those corner stores where bums hang out drinking their drink, talking their shit, and asking for spare change to buy another drink. It was that corner store where kids stopped on their way to school to steal or buy candy and cheap whiskey. Sometimes dope dealers would make deals there, but it really was not that type of spot for dope sells. Spillers was the store the crowd was standing around; Joe and Darian had stopped there for something when they was shot. No matter what it is, in the ghetto, when there's some type of drama, everybody and their momma come out to see what's going on. You see people you never knew in the hood when there's some drama going down. There was a huge crowd standing beyond the yellow crime scene tape trying to get a peak at Darian, who was still in the driver's seat of his Fleetwood Cadillac, a gift from his dad. The police had covered his body because it was said that the back of his head had been blown away. No one was sure where Joe had gone, word was that he had gotten hit too but had run off.

Darian had died for no other reason than having been in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. The people who had shot him were shooting to get at Joe as revenge to his older brother who was in prison. It was all part of a long standing war between Sunny Side and South Park. Darian wasn't involved in all that Hood drama, he knew Joe from days in middle school and just wanted to hang out with the homies. It was the life some of the homies led that brought Darian to an early grave…

I think from that day on, Susan sort of tried to look out for me. She had learned that I wasn't the average 17 year old working a summer job for school clothes. She knew I was working to take care of myself and my family, so she made sure I got the hours I needed. I think in her own way, she was determined not to let me slip back into that life which she knew I lived so close to. Chain stored like KFC have regent managers and the new rennet wanted me fired shortly after he came to the new store. Dude didn't know me at all, yet he was trying to take my job. Maybe he was on some male ego-trip, maybe he was trying to make an example that he would be tough and I was the unlucky guy, or maybe he felt threatened, being that he had his nose in the air, but he was in my ghetto.

Now that's not to say that the boss and I had a rosy relationship. There were plenty of times when I thought she showed favoritism on the job, always giving me holidays and weekends to work. There were times when I thought she might have had a bad day and focused her disgust with life in my direction. Many of those days I felt like saying fuck it all and quit. On the cool, as I look back, I think she was helping me in her own way to understand that the working world is a hard place, and that only the devoted could handle staying in the race. Yeah, many of those days I wanted to say fuck it and leave, but I had responsibilities. It's part of the price paid by being an adult. Yet I wasn't totally committed to being an adult…

When I wasn't at work, my time was spent with my family doing simple things like watching T.V., listening to the radio, talking on the phone, and shooting the breeze with Melinda and Yolanda while looking after the two new babies. I failed to mention that Melinda had given birth shortly after Tikeira was born to a beautiful girl named Keiceaundrea, who I nicknamed Lil' Monkey because she came out to be a very hairy baby.

One of our favorite pastimes was barbecuing. There was no need of a special occasion for us to heat up the put. Don't have anything planned? Don't have anywhere to go? Let's BBQ! Of course a BBQ ain't a BBQ without the music, beer, dominoes or cards, and family with friends. Many times we'd take the BBQ to the park where we'd set up a volleyball net. Guys versus girls; I wasn't good at volleyball so I'd cover using my basketball skills, palming the ball and all. Getting a game like that started was always cool on the strength that people of all ages could join in and play. After a while, it was off to the basketball courts for me…

Now don't get me wrong in the least. I'm not saying that I was a homebody or anything like that. There were those days when I would hit the streets and stay in them streets. Usually when we were in the streets it was just to roam, trying to see and be seen as we banged the latest and hardest jams riding around on the South Side. We weren't into crime daily anymore, yet we still got into something from time-to-time; robbing crack and weed houses became the thing. Now that we had our own cars, we weren't into stealing cars much anymore. It's ironic that when I was a kid, my go-cart got stolen, and then for me to grow up and become a car thief. If there was some specific need, we weren't above going back into the old trade. Some nights when I got off from work, I'd go home only to leave again; I'd look for the fellas just to chill, maybe smoke some weed, drink some beer and relax for a while. It was on one of those nights that I almost found myself in jail once again.

I had wrecked the Lynch Mob (that was the name we had given the old car) and had yet to get another car, so I was stuck walking. When I got home, there was nothing better to do, so I decided to head out to the cuts figuring that I'd find Kilo and the fellas there. Yolanda's cousin Brian, who was living with us at the time, came with me…We made it to the cuts, but had no luck in finding none of the fellas so we decided to head back home and we were about two blocks from home when police cars came flying from everywhere. Something was going down; they kept darting in and out of the streets near my home. Brian and I continued to walk down Cullen wondering what was going down, and as we got to the street right before mine, we saw that there were police cars all in the middle of the street. Brian wanted to walk down the street just to see what was up, but I wasn't too high on the idea, yet my curiosity got the better of me. I should have known better, but I went anyway.

Freeze! Put your hands in the air! And don't move! There ain't nothing like seeing a black cop walking out of the bushes with his pistol pointed at your chest. He walked u to me with his pistol still pointed at me and touched my chest. Dude had the nerve to ask me why my heart was beating so fast/ I guess he was really checking to see if I was breathing hard. Some of his potnaz started to come back, seems like a chase was going down, and this one black cop confirmed my thoughts when he came and told me that I was the one who had looked him in his face and had run off. I pleaded my case.

Having already seen a car parked with its drivers door standing open, it didn't take me long to realize what was going down. That car was stolen, and they had just had a high speed chase. Whoever it was running had jumped out of the car and gotten away and they were about to give me that case. In taking off, he had run through some mud leaving tracks; eager to prove my innocence, I gladly walked my brand-new Nikes through the mud looking at a set of tracks that matched my own. As misfortune would have it, the person running had on a pair of Nikes with the same type of tracks as the ones I had on. I was cuffed and sat on the ground near one of the police cars to wait as they checked the stolen car for fingerprints and ran them through their computer…

More than a little pissed off with myself for going against better judgment and walking down to see what was going on, I sat there trying to figure out a way I could prove to these cops that I had just gotten off of work not even 30 minutes ago. KFC was closed and no one was there, so that wouldn't work, so I sent Brian home to get Yolanda hoping she could confirm to them what I was saying. Just as she was making her way around to where we were, the cops returned to talk to me.

"Yeah, this is you," one cop said to me as he looked at a picture he had. "Don't this look just like him," he said, showing the picture to a fellow officer. It couldn't be me, there was no way it could be me. "Don't this look just like you," he said again as he turned the picture for me to see, showing me a picture of Troy.

They uncuffed me, and after finding out I was on probation for stealing cars, told me how close I had come to going back to jail. They asked me if I knew Troy; I told them I didn't, they just didn't know that they were right in front of his sister's place. After talking to me a little more, they let me go. And as soon as I turned the corner on the way home, I heard Troy speaking to us from under a nearby house, asking if it was clear for him to come out. We told him it was and he went home with us that night. He told us that the car wasn't actually stolen but that it was a dope-fiend rental. The guy had called the car in stolen shortly after Troy had given him some crack for the use of his car.

Call it male ego, call it hood-pride, or you can just call it plain crazy, but we got into robbing dope houses because of a challenge. Some new cats had moved into Kilo's neighborhood and had opened up a house, which was no problem with us. It was their trash-talking that got them in trouble. Trying to impress some of the girls in the hood, they started talking all sorts of trash about Kilo and the rest of us. Only they didn't realize that these girls had known Kilo for most of their lives and would come right back to let us know what was being said. We confronted them and let them know that they wasn't welcome in the hood anymore and that we'd rob them every week.

It was two weeks later when we first decided to hit them. Sitting around Ken's house drinking beer after a game of basketball, we was plotting on what we'd do for the night when someone in the crew reminded us about the house. It was Friday night, so we figured it would be a good night to do it. We came up with a plan and hit them, taking them for their money, dope and guns. A week later we hit them again, and two weeks after that we hit them again. Word had made it to the streets that they was supposed to be out to get us, but we knew they knew who we were so it was no more than lip service to keep their pride in tact. They moved out of the hood after that third hit though.

Dragging the trash home. It don't matter where you are at, once you start dealing with life on the streets, you are bound to gain some enemies. And just because you are with your family and loved ones, that don't mean your enemies will put their anger with you aside if they should run into you while you are with your family. In fact, some will go after the family first as a way to hurt you more. I always tried to make sure that as few people as possible knew where I lived and where my family lived. But even still, I had to keep a watch on everything, especially when I was with my loved ones. Many times my mom and grandma didn't know I was keeping watch when I went to the grocery store with them or whenever we was out on the streets together. It became like second nature, to watch and protect. I wish I could have trusted that there was an unspoken rule for "time out" when it came to family and loved ones. I didn't care about me, I really didn't, but it would've been nice to have that "time out" for the family, yet that wouldn't have been real.

Even though only a few of my potnaz knew where I lived, I still made sure to keep watch while at home. While outside watching Tikeira at play, I wasn't just making sure she didn't run out into the streets. With my Loc'z on and a 40 of O.E. in my hand, I was on constant watch for cars I didn't know driving down my street. Cars that drove too slowly, like they was looking for someone, cars that might be in search of someone to pull a drive-by on; I didn't take any chances. If I saw a car, I'd call Tikeira and she'd stop whatever she was doing to come let me lead her to a safety zone. It never failed, even as young as she was, she seemed to sense that there was something wrong as she wrapped her little hand around my finger and followed me.

Like family. That is the only way I can describe the relationship that I had with my boys. We was all like brothers: Ken, Kilo, Q, and I. We shared a bond that had been time-tested, battle-tested. That's why when some in my family tried to get me to stop hanging with them after I got shot, I wasn't trying to hear it. They did not know the battles that we had been through. The friends we had lost on the streets, the loyalty that was involved when we said 4-Life to each other. We had become so tight as friends that a lot of people didn't know that we was only friends. Most thought we was kin to each other in some way or another. Our girlfriends even hung out together and treated each other as sisters-in-law. Our children became like cousins to each other. We was welcomed in the homes of our extended families. We took care and looked out for each other with much love. And if Ken, Kilo, and Q was my younger brothers, Bamm was like my older brother. He didn't get in to all of the things that me and the boyz did, which is part of the reason we didn't hang out as much anymore, but I still had major love for him and would go kick it with him from time to time.

Watch Ya Back…As watchful as I was on the streets, there was still those times when I got caught slipping. Melvin, who I had went to jail with, tried to impress on me just how hard I had been slipping as I walked out of the Shell gas station on Reed and Cullen one night. A cold pistol was placed to my head. "I caught you slipping," he told me. Although I didn't like how the lesson was given, it was one well learned. Always be watchful on the streets. We copped it up for a minute or so and then it was time to push on.

Clubs really weren't my thing; I'd go every now and then, but as far as having to hit them every weekend and all weekend, that wasn't me. For whatever reason, I decided to go hang with Bamm, and for Bamm clubs was his thing. We made plans over the phone to go to the After Hour, a club on Scott near where Bamm lived. When I made it to the spot, I saw that it was going to be hard finding a parking spot if I waited until I picked up Bamm, so I decided to park my car (a maroon Cutlass Classic) and walk around to Bamm's. It wasn't far, so no big deal…

Going to clubs in the ghetto is like going to a car show. Everyone is trying to show off their cars, making circle after circle, down the block and back again. It was no different this night as I walked down Scott on my way to Fourth Missionary Apartments where Bamm lived. While walking, I noticed a car stop in front of me at the Popeye's and let two people out who started walking in my direction. I paid them no mind, thinking they was on their way to the club. The car passed me and let someone out behind me which I didn't notice. As the two guys in front closed in on me, the one in the back closed as well, and at about the same time the car was making its next round.

The two in front of me was pulling out their pistols, telling me to stop, to hold on like they wanted to talk to me, when the guys in the car yelled at them that I wasn't the one they had thought I was. Them boys was about to leave me a memory on the street. The shit blew my mind. They apologized and all of them jumped in the car and left. I turned around to go back to my car where I had left my gun, having no doubt in my mind that if I had been who they thought I was, there wouldn't have been no "time out" for me that night; I would have been left dead on Scott that night.

FRYING THA' BRAIN. I had been messing with Joyce, an ex-manager of mine at KFC, for a while now. We tried to spend any free time together and at times I had to depend on her to give me a ride back home or close to home. For some reason, as she was taking me back home one night, I had a feeling that I should try to check on Kilo before I went home. Thinking that I might find them at Drive By's house (Kilo's girlfriend), I had Joyce take me by there.

Driving up in this strange truck, I made sure they knew it was me as we slowed down. It was that or either we ran the risk of being shot at. And sure enough, as I got out of the truck to speak with Ed Lover and Kilo, who was sitting in Kilo's car, I found Ed Lover looking around in the glove compartment. I asked what he was looking for and he told me he was looking for his gun, which was a big ass .357 sitting right in his face. There was no doubt in my mind from the start that something was up. When I asked Kilo what was going on, he went to talking about how Ken and Q had begged him not to do it. Having a feeling that he was in some sort of trouble, I kept asking what he was talking about. He lifted a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. It was a mixture of embalming fluid. Smoked with weed, it was known on the streets as Amp, Fry, Wet, Sherm, or Water. Them boyz had fried their brain…

Knowing that they was bent, there was no way I could leave them like that, so I told Joyce I was going to drive them home and that we'd follow her out of the neighborhood. As we was riding, Kilo asked me about Fat Mike and Fat Curtis. It seems they had just left after smoking some fry themselves. So as I made it to MLK, I asked if they wanted me to shoot by just to make sure that Fat Mike and Fat Curtis had made it home alright. They said no, thinking that it was best to get on home, so I turned to head for 610, South West Side bound.

Tripping on fry. For some reason, the bouncing lights on the radio caught Kilo's attention. He looked close at the radio and then sat back, but no sooner than he sat back he was right back up and personal with the radio again, and then he turned the sound all the way down. Satisfied, he sat back. It took Ed Lover a few minutes before he realized the music was off, but once he did he reached to turn it back on. Kilo, after a few minutes, realized that the lights was jumping again and he turned the radio back down. I turned it right back up. Kilo realized it's back on and this time looks closely at the radio as if trying to figure it out. He backs up, and then looks at it closely again, only to back up once more. All of the sudden he snatched the radio out of the dashboard (it's a pullout) and hugs it closely to himself. Okay…It's your car, it's your radio, you can have the music down if you want…

Ed Lover, who is in the back seat, decides to ask, as if wondering, what might have happened to Fat Mike and Fat Curtis. Kilo tells him that I was going to check on them. Now it's Ed Lover's turn to trip. He looks at me all crazy, as if wondering who in the world I might be. He sits back to give it some thought and then came up with a very interesting question to ask Kilo. "If Ron is going to check on Fat Mike and Fat Curtis, then who is driving the car?" Kilo turned and looked, still hugging the radio, as if I was the last person he expected to see. "Where you come from!?" I couldn't do nothing but laugh…When I got them boyz home, I told them both that if they ever messed with that fry again, we'd have to fight…

Caught Dude Slipping. Sitting in the car at the weed house just chillin', picking seeds and rolling some joints, enjoying the A/C while listening to Boyz II Men: Me, Ken, Q and Kilo was sitting four deep with nothing better to do. Kilo bumped me and told me to check out the car that had just pulled up. The driver was already out of the car and headed to the weed house, but it was the passenger who was of interest. It was Dude. The same Dude who I had had that fight with in middle school, the same Dude who had tried to pick a fight with Q and got smashed for his troubles. The same Dude who had slapped Denise because she was my girl. And he was in our hood. The wrong place, the wrong time…

I told Ken and Q to look. Sensing that something was up, Dude looked to his right and saw us all looking at him. I could see it in his face; he knew how hard he had been caught slipping. The funniest thing happened next. He rolled up his windows and locked the car doors. We could have easily shot through the windows to get at him, but we just sort of nodded at him to let him know that he had been caught. We justified not doing anything to him at that time, saying that we didn't want to bring heat down on the weed house. So we saved that fight for another day. Ironically, it was the same weed house that we had once robbed.

Finally it was time to say fuck it. I had been messing with Joyce for a while now, which didn't sit too well with one of the assistant managers who had a thing for Joyce. But that wasn't my concern, at least it first it wasn't. Susan had taken sick leave, and knowing that this woman had it in for me, she left instructions that I couldn't be fired. She didn't tell me as such, but I suspected that was why the assistant manager, who as it was my misfortune was placed in charge, didn't fire me as soon as Susan left. She got slick though; rather than fire me, she cut my time.

At first it was no big deal to me. I didn't like working with her anyway, plus the more time I had off meant the more time I had to run the streets. It also meant that I was able to spend a little more time with Joyce. What I didn't think about was that the more time I had off also meant the less my check would be, and I was struggling to provide…

It all came slamming home full force one night when I came home from work. Yolanda met me as I came through the door, Tikeira on her hip crying. She wanted to know what I had brought home to eat. I asked what she meant and she told me that there was no food in the house. Not believing her, I went to check, and sure enough the ice box was empty from top to bottom. I was in shock; I needed some money like yesterday…

I went to my grandmother's and on the way I contemplated my next move. I needed some money fast and easy. Grandma gave me some things to take home that lasted a few days, but I was still on a mission. Here I had been busting my ass working for crumbs while my boys had been selling a little dope here and there, and they was having things. Finally, it just didn't add up anymore. I was working too hard for nothing. I got my next check a few days later which wasn't even two hundred dollars. Yeah, it's time to say fuck it. I took that money and went to buy a half ounce of dope from Ken. I had sold a little dope from time to time, but now it was time for it to become a full-time deal for me. I quit working for KFC.

I hooked back up with Bamm and his cousin Smokey. They told me about this place called Port Lavaca. Smokey had been messing around down there selling dope for a while. The money was supposed to be much better than in Houston, so they invited me to come with them on the next trip.

The first time we went down there it was cool. We stayed for a few days until we had all sold out and then we went back to Houston. I had bills to pay, so I took care of that and got some more dope to wait for the next trip. We worked together and looked out for each other in this strange town. During the day it was best for me to stay inside because of how young I looked. It was more likely the police would think I was supposed to be in school somewhere, so we'd stay in during school hours watching movies, smoking weed and eating pizza.

While smoking weed and watching Ernest Goes to Jail, I noticed that Chris, Nay-Nay, and Key-Key had all gone outside, so I went to see what was going on. When I got to the lot, I saw Nay-Nay and Key-Key talking to this girl in a red car about making a beer run.
I saw that Key-Key was having a real hard time with her, so I asked her to look out for my homeboy, but she explained that her boyfriend wouldn't like her having some other guy in the car. Okay, cool. I can dig that, so I left her alone to go chop it up with Chris. Not five minutes later, Nay-Nay comes to let me know that the girl, Michelle, wanted to speak with me. She told me that she would be willing to take me to the store but that I would have to ride in the back seat and ride low. That was fine by me, I liked riding low in cars anyway. We made the run for beer and I thanked her as she dropped me off. Although I didn't get a chance to see her that well, that was my first time meeting Michelle.

That weekend I got to see her much better and I got to meet her best friend Dianna as well. Bamm, Chris, and I was standing on the blocks selling dope when two cars pulled up. The way they did it, it had to be planned. Bamm stepped up to see what they wanted, and when he came back he was asking if I felt like going to a party. A party? Where? He told me there was a party going down in the apartments we stayed in with Dora. I could hardly believe that. If you turned the T.V. up too loud they was likely to call the police on you for disturbing the peace. But he assured me that there was indeed a party, so I agreed to check it out. House parties was my thang, and I loved being the life of any party…

Being the smallest of my crew, I was crammed in the back seat. My main concern as we rode was the music. To me the music is what dictates what type of party it's going to be. What type of system did they have? What type of music did they have? Was it a bumping party? Michelle told me that they had music, but she kept talking about all the drink they would be having, and how they was going to get some more…

When we made it to the apartments I was the first out of the car; Michelle told me which apartment it was, and I was the first up the stairs when Dianna opened the door to let us in. I was the first to see that it wasn't a party after all…It was like two girls and three guys, and they was all sitting down. The stereo, oops, the radio they had. Just try to think of something you might put in a ten-year-old's bedroom. I was the first down the stairs telling Bamm on the way that it wasn't a party. It was a damn get-together…

Halfway across the parking lot on my way to Dora's, Dianna called my name, asking where I was going. HOLD 'EM UP! TIME OUT! TIME ALL THE WAY OUT!!! I'm new here, I've been keeping a low profile, ain't nobody supposed to know my name. How did she know my name? When I asked her how she knew my name, she asked if I had a scar on my neck; when I told her that I did, she told me all the girls knew about me…Right then I should have turned around, went to Dora's, packed my bags and left town. But I was 18; I smiled, thinking of the possibilities and told Dianna that I was going to get some music and would be back…

The party turned out alright. It was still a get-together in my eyes, but I had the tunes under control: A little Boyz II Men, Jodeci, Surface, throwing in some Second to None, DJ Quik, Too $hort, Mc Thick, and Scarface. Michelle was right about the drinks too, they had the ice box filled with beer and liquor…As for Michelle, I got to see her better for the first time. She was looking good, so I tried to speak with her, however her boyfriend was there so she ignored me.

The party wore on and people started to leave. Chris and Dianna was kicking it, so he wanted to stay, but there was no reason for me to hang around so I left. As soon as I walked through the door, Chris was calling to have me come back. Michelle wouldn't leave him alone unless I came back, and he was trying to spend some time with Dianna. So I returned.

However things turned out that night, I started to spend more time with Michelle. Being that she had a boyfriend, we made a deal. Whenever, if ever Yolanda came around, she and I was just friends, and whenever her boyfriend was around the deal was in play. Chris and I moved in with Dianna, and before long that apartment was ours in every way except whose name was on the lease. Dianna couldn't pay the rent because she had quit her job figuring that her dope-dealing boyfriend should pay the bills. I agreed to help because I knew we needed to have a place to lay out heads when in town and there was too many of us staying at Dora's.

Michelle seemed really hurt when I asked her one day if she smoked crack. I figured since her boyfriend was smoking that she might smoke too. When she asked how I knew that her boyfriend smoked, I told her about the two Starter jackets that ran for close to $400 he had sold for $40 worth of crack. She did some investigating and found that his brother's two Starter jackets were missing and at the same time learned that he had pawned some of her jewelry. My thinking had nothing to do with trying to break them up. I couldn't be messing with a dope fiend on a personal level like that because she would do nothing but steal from me and take me down. I still had my responsibilities back in Houston…

After she broke up with him, things were fine for a minute. I'd stay in Port Lavaca for a while, then shoot to Houston for a while, checking on Denise and Yolanda, paying some bills while I was there. Then I'd shoot back to Port Lavaca. During that time, I found myself content with life; everything was taken care of and I was enjoying myself…

I even started throwing BBQ's in Port Lavaca on the weekends…Nothing to do? No plans? You know what it is! Let's BBQ. Craig had a big pit, so I'd drag it across the street to the park, go buy all kinds of meat and whatever else was needed and set up shop. We didn't get the volley ball thing going, but it was still cool. Everybody came out: kids, teenagers, and grown folks. I made sure to have two coolers, one with all sorts of soft drinks for the kids and another with beer. Everybody eats for free, and kids eat first while I'm gone to play basketball.

Sounds like I'm being nice showing everyone a good time. I was, I really enjoyed throwing those BBQ's. I loved having a good time, but those BBQ's was also used as a cover to sell dope. People coming and going, the cops paid them no mind; it was just a party at the park and we was all having a good time. Dope fiends coming to the park getting some BBQ and some dope at the same time.

It messed me up the first time a youngsta tried to buy crack from me. In Houston, dope fiends and crack heads weren't youngsta'z, they were older people who were dirty and nasty. It wasn't cool at all for anyone who smoked that shit because you didn't want to be seen as weak-minded, dirty, nasty, sorry ass dope fiends. We had seen it so much around the neighborhoods that we knew what smoking crack did to people and never wanted to allow that to happen to us. So I had never met anyone close to or around my age who smoked crack. One night as Chris and I was on the cuts, a dude who couldn't have been more than 17 came by wanting to get two rocks. If he would have wanted five or six, I might have given it to him thinking he was trying to make some extra money. But two, that made me question him. When I asked him what he wanted it for he told me that he wanted to smoke. I felt like smashing him in the mouth, but I didn't. I told him that I wasn't going to sell him any dope and for him not to let me catch him around the cuts again. I'm sure he went and found someone else to sell it to him, but he wasn't going to get it from me.

I can't say how the relationship with everyone and Dianna began to sour. I suspect after a while she just found herself in too deep with us drug dealers and didn't know what to do. We was living at her place, she was spending a lot of time with us. She even sold a little dope from time to time to earn some extra money. So who knows, maybe she wanted the lifestyle but didn't know how to handle it. Maybe she had been approached by the police to either set us up or take the fall with us. Then again, maybe she just wanted to go back home. Whatever the case, she started to change…Things started to change.

Dope fiend rental cars again. One day, during school hours, I was at the park playing basketball with two of my workers. They had a truck that was a stick-shift they had rented. As it got close to time for school to let out, we decided we wanted to go up to the high school. I had some friends who went there, so I was looking to kick it with them. But on the way there we was arrested for being in a stolen truck. The damn dope fiend had called the truck in stolen.

Being that I was the oldest of the crew at 18, they were going to give me the charge for stealing it. Also, being that I was from Houston, they thought they had one of the H-town drug dealers on their hands. The $500 I had on me didn't help my cause either. But Dora and I agreed that any money I was caught with would be my auntie's rent money. The police questioned me as to who I was. I told them Ron, but they didn't believe me and went to question the others as to what my street name was. They thought I was Smokey until I showed them my tattoo of Ron on my chest. Something was up for the cops to be looking for Smokey by his street name. The dope fiend dropped the charges and I was back on the street that night.

One night while at the apartment, we was talking about some of the strange things we had begun to notice. The fact that the police was looking to find Smokey also played in it and it all pointed to the idea that Dianna had been working to set us up. It was thought that the plan was for Dianna to get all seven of the Houston drug dealers to her apartment and then call the police using code word Mayonnaise to let them know that we was there and that we had drugs. Chris, being the jokester of the crew, told her that as soon as she called and said Mayonnaise that she had better call right back and say Ketchup, because that's what they would have to do, catch up. We would be long gone by the time they ever got there.

The next morning, Bamm, Smokey and Chris all cut ties with her. I should have as well, but I really didn't believe she was the one who had been trying to set us up. Smokey told me as he was leaving that I would regret not cutting her loose…And they left.

Dora and I ended up moving to Victoria and we allowed Dianna to stay with us for a while. I didn't want to put her out, being that she had let us live with her for so long. But after a few weeks it got old. She wasn't in any way trying to pull her weight, I mean she wasn't my girlfriend, and here I was taking care of her. Even Michelle had a job, Dora had a job. It was clear that Dianna was happy to continue leeching off of me and I was not having it. I gave her two weeks to find a job or leave. A week went by and she fronted like she was looking for a job. The second week she didn't even bother to front. I reminded her that her time was running out and she went into hiding. While in hiding, she tried to cause all sorts of problems…

The first sign that Smokey was right about me regretting my choice to continue befriending Dianna came with a call from Yolanda one night. Dianna had told her all about the relationship between Michelle and I. I tried to deny it, but she knew too much for me to deny. Yolanda and I didn't break up, but that was a major crack in our relationship…

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