barked at them, “Hit him!”
Both were scared because he was twice their size and four years older than them, but I was there and I wanted them to know he was flesh and that he could be hurt. At this time my corruption was spilling over onto the members of the Nine, and they were soaking it up like grass soaks up water during a hot summer day. As I turned to the boys, both looked as if I had told them to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge or something. So I looked straight at David and said, “Hit him.” David gave a halfhearted swing and connected, but I wasn’t satisfied so I barked, “Hit him again, and this time really hit him!” Once again David’s hit was as if he were hitting a child, so I swung and dropped him to his back. Then I looked at the boys and said, “That’s how you hit someone.” This lesson of corruption the boys would remember and live by, carrying their corruption to a height not even my feeble mind could have imagined. We were a tight bunch, but at age nineteen I felt there was nothing on Oakdale for me. With the same conviction I had when I left my mom’s house, I just walked away and never went back to my auntie’s house. Now I was really on the streets with nothing but my intellect and heart; but nevertheless I was in the game, and that was more than enough for me to make it.
My first task was to find a come up, so I found AJ and asked, “Can I get a come up?”
He responded with “No!”
I asked, “Why not? I don’t have a place to stay or food to eat. I need it.”
See, in the game all the older men are trying to find a way out and all the young men are trying to get in. AJ knew what I didn’t: he had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly about the streets and didn’t want to start me on my way to hell.
He pulled me to the side and said, “Go home!”
But I said, “If you don’t want to help that’s cool, but I’m not going home!”
I walked off mad, because I could not see into the distant future that AJ dreaded I would encounter. I got my come up money by snatching a purse. Never gave any thought if the woman was a mother whose money was for her rent or food for her kids. I had completely lost my conscience and my feelings were nonexistent, but it would get worse.
In the Tenderloin I made a name for myself; my corrupt morals were now manifesting themselves in my interactions with others, and the people were now recognizing me. In an environment where everyone has heart, mine shined. One day a friend and I were hanging in front of a store with three very pretty young ladies. Three men from Sunnydale (a section of San Francisco) named J.T., Kofi, and Joe parked their car, and also stood in front of the store. J.T., the oldest and leader of the men, said to one of the girls, “Can I get your number?”
She responded, “I got a man.”
I saw that the girl wasn’t interested in him, so as they roughhoused to get the girls’ attention, I slid in and got the phone number. As we talked, J.T. came up behind me and hit me on the back of the head. Not knowing what was happening I stumbled into the store, but when I turned around and saw that it was him who hit me, my rage grew. I grabbed a bottle on the counter but before I could throw it, J.T. said, “Throw it, but how you gon get out” so now it became a test of heart. I slammed the bottle back on the counter and said, “I’m gon walk out!”
I then walked straight for him and as I passed him, once more he hit me in the back of the head . Not knowing if they had gun or not, I ran around the corner and picked up my friend and went to go get my gun. It was a short four blocks to the hotel where the gun was stashed, but it felt more like ten miles. After picking up the gun we rushed backed to the store, and when we arrived they were still there. When I turned the corner and saw them, murder was on my mind. But before I could get close enough to shoot him, they turned around and saw me. As J.T. pointed towards the gun he asked, “What you gon do with that?” I barked back, “Nothing! You a man I’m a man—we gon fight! The gun is to make sure that no one jumps in.”
J.T. was what we called penitentiary built, at thirty-six years old standing 5’11” and weighing 210 lbs. He had been in the streets since a boy. I on the other hand was 5’9” 175 lbs. just coming out of boyhood, but like the young lion that challenges the old leader, I stood ready to attack. I let off the first five blows; these were usually my knockout punches, but as they landed he neither fell nor moved. The blows instantly caused blood to flow from his nose and mouth, but he just shook it off. Then he looked me right in my eyes and said, “I’m gon hurt you!” At that point all the madness I felt left me, and my safety was all I thought about. I didn’t run or back down, but I did make sure when I hit him I did it fast and got away even faster. I didn’t knock him out or down, but everyone there saw when it came to fighting I could handle myself. So my rep grew and before my twentieth birthday I had two workers, a woman who brought in ten thousand every other week, and a rep. My woman was my best friend: she kept me sane in a world built on insanity, she allowed me to love. Her name was Tunisia Mannings.
Tunisia was a bright young lady from the suburbs of Oakland, California. She was uncorrupted by the environment around us. Tunisia was a chubby dark-skinned young lady who was about eighteen years old, she was very pretty and self-willed. I watched Tunisia from afar and liked the way she handled herself. Nisi’s stepdad was like Jason of the Friday the Thirteenth movies; to the Tenderloin, his name was Tim. Tim was 5’10” and weighed 200 lbs. He wore his hair long and uncombed. He had a scar in the middle of his forehead, which when he smoked weed made him look like a red-eyed demon. He robbed, beat, and shot anyone who challenged him, so he was someone nobody messed with. No one could talk to Nisi unless he approved and he approved no one. One day while Tim was gone, Nisi got jacked by the police (stopped and searched) and had to eat a fifty-rock of dope. She was scared and none of her people were around, so I stepped up and took her with me.
We ended up in a Taco Bell on Market Street and after I calmed her nerves, we talked. In the space of about six hours we opened up our hearts to each other, telling of things that neither one of us had ever told anyone. When we walked into that Taco Bell we were strangers, but when we left we were connected by our souls. When Tim found us he told her, “Go get in the car,” and as she ran off, he just turned my way and frowned. But two weeks later we were together again and this time it was for good. Nisi and I hustled together every night for forty-five days. We slept in the same bed but never touched each other.
One day she asked me, “Fred, my grandparents used to tell me about something they called a courtship—is that what we are doing?”
I said, “No, we’re just taking our time.” The truth was I was cautious—because of Tim.
On the forty-sixth day, Nisi said, “Fred, we doing it tonight!”
I said, “What!”
She responded, “You heard me!”
So that night we got the E&J brandy and had planned to get the weed, but forgot. When we remembered we didn’t have the weed, I said, “Baby, I’ll be right back. Get ready.” I went to jail that night and didn’t see her again for three months. Jail did me good, because I now knew I could do it. Also while locked up I got physically bigger, which helped me in the streets.
At twenty-two I was a terror, standing 5’9” and tipping the scales at a whopping 185 lbs. I felt unstoppable. I returned to Oakdale with money, respect, and a rep. The young men welcomed me back. The name Freddy-Gz was given to me by a girl, and it stuck. In my opinion this name aided in my downfall, because it became known throughout the city. At that time I no longer sold drugs, but I started to rob drug dealers and dice games—which in itself is crazy, but the seeds of corruption were now in full bloom. But in the garden of my life, among the thorns, thistles, and weeds of my character were the most beautiful flowers. These flowers were the women that I surrounded myself with, which during that time were numerous.
The most influential flower in my life during that time was Dawn. Dawn was a beautiful, loving, compassionate, and generous slender white girl from my past. During my high school years she was one of Hen’s girls, but I always liked her.
One day I got a call from Hen’s mother.
“Hello, Fred, it’s