Over the years Color Me Badd’s popularity had started to fade away, but I was still a strong supporter. I had bought their third album, ‘Now and Forever’. back in Atlanta as soon as I heard about it, and now they had just released their fourth, ‘Awakenings’. The bottom line is they had not been marketed and supported right, and was now fighting to stay in the game due to that fact. And no one took advantage of pointing that out more than Chris Rock.

Every time I heard him talking about faded artists he’d love to bring up, “Color Me Badd.” Come on now, Chris'. If you would have only given them an honest listen. And besides, they helped you sell yuor movie, ‘New Jack City’.

A local radio station, The Party, was having its birthday party at a club downtown in Nashville, and among the guests would be CMB! So of course I just had to go. After calling one of the DJ’s ahead of time, Scotty, he was like, “Sure man. Just ask for me at the party and I’ll make sure you get backstage.”

So at the night of the bash I was there front and center. I met Scotty in person, and he assured me that I’d be able to have a word with the guys after the show. CMB was the main attraction, with a few other acts going on first.

A girl who was standing next to me asked me who I was there to see. As for her, she was there to see a classmate from high school who was now in a group that was starting to make a name for themselves. 98 degrees.

The guy she was speaking of noticed her, and as the group gave out roses at the end of their performance, he gave her one. Could I hope for the same thing from CMB? (Ha! Ha! Just kidding!) But yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t remember me since it had been over four years since we last spoke.

When they came out to perform I was surprised to see that Kevin was not with them. After the show Scotty had someone take me backstage, where I stood outside their dressing room for about ten minutes. This ass that was a member of security then started to clear the area, saying no one else would be seen. I tried explaining that I had been told to wait there by members of the radio station, but he was one of those types that didn’t like to listen, even if it was truth.

Luckily, the girl who had taken me backstage returned right in time and said, “Oh, he’s fine.” The dumb fuck then left me alone. He was lucky I thought about not wanting to get arrested, otherwise he was liable to get knocked on his ass, since I’m sure he would have tried to physically remove me.

I handed the girl a picture of me and Bryan just in case they didn’t want to let us in, and she flashed it to Bryan at the door. He then opened up. They actually remembered me.

After a couple of minutes of talking we were about to go our separate ways, but the girl had a camera and was nice enough to offer to take our picture first. That was the last time I saw the guys, and sadly they parted ways soon thereafter. The music business lost the most talented quartet on the scene.

~

With the coming of the Fall semester I took on a full-time schedule, so adding this to my already full-time work schedule made me quite busy. One of my new classes was Production, and even though the school gave access to basic equipment you’d end up having to spend some money out of your own pocket when it came to doing one’s projects. Always hearing about how servers were making good money, including Shannon, I started looking into changing jobs. Most places required experience, but O’Charley’s restaurant, located just kitty-corner from the BK, was willing to give me a shot. So in mid-October I quit the home of the Whopper to try my hand at serving.

I was doomed from the start! Yes you have to be a multi-tasker to perform such a job, but I was, having been a pro at drive-thru, where I had to juggle taking orders, bagging food, making change and drinks. So why wasn’t I as proficient at serving even after a week of training? I wish I knew.

Even though I’d write everything down I’d oftentimes forget to take out the salads and drinks if I put in the order first. And if I concentrated on the salads and drinks I’d forget to put in the order. Everyone kept telling me it would get easier in time, but I just had a feeling it wouldn’t. This was one thing I seemed to really suck at.

And even if it would get better in time, that’s something I didn’t have, as I was losing money by only making two dollars and ten cents an hour plus tips. What tips?!

Averaging ten bucks a day I’d soon be starving!

So a few weeks after hoping for better pay but getting a lot less I had to admit defeat and look for something I was better at. Fortunately, the Mapco gas station right down the street was hiring, and thanks to my experience with Amoco and Revco, along with my willingness to work graveyard shift, I was hired and put in my notice at the restaurant. We can’t be good at everything.

~

Because my classes started later in the afternoon I’d be able to work all night then sleep from 7:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. I actually saw this as a great opportunity because I’d be able to get some studying done throughout the night. So after cleaning the store and making sure everything was in top shape I’d work on school assignments and memorize cinematic facts.

~

In November word was spreading around school, and town, that a new movie starring Tom Hanks, The Green Mile, would be shot in Nashville. Auditions for Extras and small roles would be held downtown, and so the actor in me just had to answer the call. I had done a little acting in a scene a couple of weeks earlier for this guy named Jeff that I knew from storyboarding class. Before that I hadn’t taken part in the craft since high school besides the little thing we did back at the dojo. And I found that I actually preferred performing for a camera more so than an audience.

Well, the process for applying for The Green Mile was relatively simple since it was just for Extra work. After waiting in a long line of hopefuls and filling out an application, they’d take a Polaroid of you and you’d be on your way. I didn’t expect to be called, but that’s exactly what happened a couple of weeks later.

Castle Rock, who had set up a temporary office, called me.

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CHAPTER 21

Strengthening My Skills

as a

Storyteller

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Although it had only been a weekend it seemed odd being back in the real world after being isolated from it for fifty-six hours. On the drive home I did a lot of thinking. Thinking I had been doing for the past few months.

Ninjutsu had truly become a part of my mind, body, and soul. It had brought me peace and the gift of being at one with myself. But I was now twenty-three years old and still without a career. Like most, I wanted to have a family of my own someday, and a way to support such a goal that would not only bring financial success, but personal satisfaction as well. All my life I’ve always went for things I’ve been passionate about, and I knew I needed that same feeling when it came to a career.

Back in ‘96 Stephen had been attending an Academy of Arts college. One of his assignments had been to make a one-minute short film. Using Jake’s camcorder, he came to the dojo and used Robin and I as his actors. Basically I’d be walking behind the dojo and other businesses and Robin would then jump out with a knife and try to rob me. Using a wrist-breaking technique to defend myself, I’d then run away.

Shooting it awoke my strong feelings for filmmaking I had had since childhood, and now I was seriously thinking about turning those strong feelings into reality. A career in filmmaking was something I could really see myself doing for the rest of my life, but without wanting to jump the gun I continued my training and began to research a little.

By mid-September a change of season’s brought a change for me as well. After some serious contemplating I made one of the hardest decisions of my life and chose to leave the dojo to pursue my future. Thanks to Stephen K. Hayes I had discovered one of the greatest art forms in this world, and thanks to Jimmy I had become pretty damn good at it.

In the art there’s a term called uchi deshi, which means home student. Basically it’s when a teacher takes on a student as his protégé. The student lives with his mentor and cooks and cleans in exchange for full time training. I probably never would have left my training if Jimmy would have taken me under his wing in such a way, but he was young (late twenties I believe) and hadn’t reached such a point in his life, so destiny came in and paved another road

So there it was. After eighteen months of straight intensive training it was time to set out on another adventure. Changes came in other forms as well. At Revco, the store was going through renovations and now being called CVS. After going through a half dozen store managers a permanent one was finally assigned to our location. Unfortunately it came in the form of Oma, a total bitch. On that first evening of meeting her I knew things weren’t going to work out.

You see, a couple of hours before closing I’d head out to the floor to straighten the products on the shelves. A constant job in retail. The pharmacist on duty would watch the counter while I did this, and if it started to get too busy I’d come help ring up customers. By working together in this way we were able to get things done so when closing time came along we’d just have to do the last of the closing procedures and then go home. (Usually leaving by 9:10-9:15 p.m.) Not only did this allow us to get home at a good time, but it also saved the company some money on labor.

Well, after sixteen months of doing things this way we didn’t need some stubborn jackass coming in screwing things up, but that’s exactly what we got with Oma. She was from Nigeria, which I thought would make things interesting by giving me a chance to learn more about the country, especially since there was a singer I liked from there. Sade. But this woman turned out to be a bad representative of the African Nation. She’d just stand at the counter talking the evening away with her equally idiotic best friend who was also from the same country.

Every time a customer would come up to check out she‟d call me to come ring them up, even though she was standing right there! At this rate I’d never get the straightening done.

Sensing how upset I was becoming she asked me what the problem was, so I told her. She’d be talking in circles with her excuses and resolving nothing. It was then that I knew it was time to start looking for another job. Working in a diverse world means learning, compromising, and joining together to achieve, but sometimes you can’t help but come across an asshole who’s as steadfast to stubbornness as a fly is to shit.

Now I had to find another job to replace my main source of income. My plan was to find a good film school, work hard to save until the following summer, and then move to wherever the location of the school happened to be. So I needed a full-time job that would at least pay the same amount as the drug store. Fortunately, MediaPlay had a maintenance opening. This was a store that had four main sections. Music, Movies, Books, and Software. It was located about the same distance from the drug store to the townhouse, but in the opposite direction. With the advantage of having gained experience at Howe Elementary eight years earlier, I was hired and happy to get Oma outta’ my life!

Fall also brought Chino the decision to return to Stockton. For the few months that we were reunited he had a tough time being away from his son, although only going back and being in the same city as him wouldn’t really help things. I told him that if he really wanted Eric back in his life he would have to set a clear goal and become intently focused on it. Get a really good job, (which could mean more education if necessary) a good home, etc. This way he could prove to the courts that Eric would be in a much more stable and responsible environment than if he were to live with his mom, therefore increasing the chances of being awarded primary custody. But no matter how much you want to help someone by giving them a better solution, they will be the one who ultimately chooses how to live their life. So all I could do was hope for the best for him.

MediaPlay for me was like a toy store for a kid. Music to soothe my soul. Movies to take me on journeys. And ahh… the books! My shift started at 7 a.m., three hours before opening, and ended at 3 p.m. I’d spend those first three hours cleaning areas that would be too busy with customers during open hours. Cleaning the bathrooms. Sweeping and mopping the floors. Cleaning the storefront glass. I’d then go to each section and clean whatever needed to be cleaned. After lunch I’d work on special projects such as hanging signage.

The store manager, who had the same name as my roommate David, also happened to be the district manager. He was pretty quiet and strict but was always generous with his compliments on my work.

If you’ve ever worked for a large company with a lot of stores you’ve probably experienced the ridiculous practice I like to refer to as ‘chicken-with-its-head-cut-off syndrome.’ It’s when a higher-up in the company comes to inspect a store. With like a day’s notice or sometimes just hours, everyone is running around like a chicken with its head cut off rushing to make the store look as perfect as possible.

What a load of bullshit!

First off, who the hell is this person coming, a president of a country?! (And even if that were the case, so what? I mean, I respect anyone when I first meet them. I don’t care if they’re making Whoppers or making billions of dollars. There’s a difference between respect and kissing ass. Obviously I wouldn’t be a good candidate for meeting some royal family. When it comes down to it we all breathe and bleed, and I’m sure as hell not going through some kiss ass rituals to meet someone. Again, respecting an individual for achieving greatness or such is one thing. Playing worship is quite another.)

The second problem with this whole corporate-pleasing charade is how obviously false it is. They play the same game over and over again. Corporate calls beforehand to give notice of the upcoming visit, then everyone’s running around trying to make things look pretty. So this higher-up isn’t actually seeing things for how they truly are on a day-to-day basis. They’re coming in and just seeing a façade. Then once they leave, everyone breathes a sigh of relief and things go back to how they really are.

What a waste of time and money. If I were a company head I’d start off by eliminating such fictitious practices. Instill a work ethic of everyone working together to achieve company goals, instead of focusing so much on hierarchy. And just dropping in on store branches, to see how things are really being ran.

Although the higher-up never really gave oral compliments when visiting, David told me this was the first time the big wig had never complained about the cleanliness of the store. So in other words, “You’re doing a great job.”

Being the movie buff I was and preparing for film school, I asked David if he’d keep me in mind when a position became available in the movie section. He said sure, but asked me if I thought I’d be able to handle the computer there. After filling him in on my past experience, he admitted he hadn’t been aware of the qualities I possessed and assured me that I’d be considered when a position was available.

This taught me a very important lesson in life. Never assume that someone knows your talents, even if they work with you. You have to step up and make it be known. Sure you’ll occasionally come across asses who will be threatened by you and/or not realize the benefit of using your abilities, but if you don’t speak up things won’t progress and become better for you.

After doing quite a bit of research on film schools I came across one

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At Revco we’d close at 9 p.m. I’d close the store portion while the pharmacist closed their area. My duties included counting down the cash tills, placing the day’s money into envelopes, storing it all in the store safe, filling out paperwork, and sending the information to corporate via the computer. So I basically had the job of closing manager, the skills of which would help me in future work.

The manager who had hired me had to quit, so me and this female employee were the two running the store for about six months. She’d open, I’d close. We were doing fine as a two-person team, which I guess is why the powers-that-be didn’t bring in an official store manager for so long. But they should have compensated us accordingly.

Meanwhile Mom and the kids had found an apartment in Smyrna, another small town outside Atlanta. Daniel had recently contacted her and was planning to make the move. I told Mom I’d make it there for Thanksgiving and made sure I’d have the weekend off to do so. We were supposed to have gotten together on my birthday to attend an Olympic event, but she failed to get the transportation together so it never happened. The summer Olympics were in Atlanta that year and someone had given me tickets for handball. Not the most exciting sport, but an Olympic event nonetheless.

It had been just over a year since I had last seen Daniel. Jake and Stephen dropped me off for the weekend and I was looking forward to a home-cooked meal. Jesse had just turned twelve and Mom had been working a data entry job. I wish I could say it was a nice reunion and all, but her negative nature never took breaks. Not even for holidays.

She’d be bitching up a storm, getting on to Jess, etc. And every Thanksgiving it never failed. Soon after sitting down to eat she’d find a reason to get upset and storm off, saying something like, “I’ve lost my appetite!”

She’s literally been doing this all of our lives! Her Thanksgiving attention grabber. And nearing the end of the meal she’d return sulking while serving herself. You ever heard of the psychological disorder where someone isn’t happy unless they’re unhappy. Well~

Daniel wanted to come live with me again. Although I had been really focused with my training I missed having family around, so I told him I’d look into it. I had worked really hard to get to where I was in Norcross and didn’t need anybody coming along screwing that up for me, but at the same time I wanted to give my brother the benefit of the doubt, and if he could learn to be focused through me, great. So after going back home to Norcross and asking B if he could stay in my room if he paid rent too, I went back to pick him up during the first week of December.

This was a chance for Daniel to get a fresh start. He liked Ninjutsu, so I thought it would be cool if he started training too. He was still receiving his SSI, but I told him that I could probably get him work at my two jobs as well. This way he’d easily be able to cover his rent, training, etc.

He first joined the dojo. Members were accepted by contract and he was really excited to start. Everyone was happy to meet him at the dojo and told him how lucky he was that he was my brother, meaning the extra help he’d get from me. I had been there for eight months and was already 7th Kyu. They all knew me to be very dedicated to the art and to Jimmy. I even had Japanese Kanji written on my training weapons which translated to ‘Rico studying under Jimmy.’

Besides bringing Daniel into Ninjutsu I also got him hired at Revco and Fujita’s with me. Being surrounded by a good environment, he started to show signs of maturity for those first few weeks. All except for one thing that is.

When he first moved in with me I started to notice how often he would scratch and that I was becoming really itchy as well. He claimed he had no idea where it had come from, even though it coincided with his arrival. We ended up having to go to a clinic where we were told we had scabies. A contagious condition where these tiny bugs invade your skin, clothes, bedding, etc. He actually had got it before moving to Georgia, but instead of being honest with me up front had lied and denied it for quite some time. That’s one of the biggest differences we had. He wouldn’t think twice about lying to somebody’s face. I was hoping this new environment would help rid him of such poor character.

One of the guys I would sometimes train with on Saturdays, David, was now looking for a roommate. He lived about a forty-five-minute walk from the dojo in a three-bedroom townhouse with his girlfriend. Living at B’s place, you always had to be cautious of what you did, like the ol’ saying, ‘Walking On Egg Shells.’ So we grabbed the opportunity and moved in with David a few days into 1997.

David and his girlfriend wanted to keep separate rooms, so Daniel and I had to share one, but it was still better than being at B’s place. We finally had room to breathe! The townhouse was one of the nicest places we ever lived, and was located in a small community.

Beside our subdivision was an apartment complex. David’s old friend Matt lived there, along with a roommate, Joey. Daniel and I met them when they stopped by the townhouse, and before the end of the week Daniel went to go stay the night with them. This caused him to skip class and be late to work. Well, that night’s stay turned into two.

Then three.

And four.

Until a week had passed. So what was going on with him and these two guys? Well, no matter where a person moves to they tend to seek out like-minded people. It’s like some weird law of attraction. And since Matt and Joey were pot-headed losers who liked to do nothing but smoke, drink, and party, Daniel found his soul mates.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t judge someone just because they partake in recreational drug use, but when it affects a person from getting things done in life there’s obviously a problem. And here I was thinking Daniel had really changed. I had went out on a limb for him, and only after a couple of weeks of classes and work he had already ditched the training and was fired from Revco. (We now had new store managers coming and going every couple of weeks)

Although he was spending all his time at Matt and Joey’s he insisted he planned to stay living with us in the townhouse, and that he’d pay his share of rent and bills on time. Well, in February he hadn’t been home for a month and his rent was past due. After some bullshit excuses we waited, but no money came. It was now March, and still nothing. By April he finally admitted he wasn’t coming back, but continued his empty promises that he’d pay us what he owed us. Over seven hundred dollars now.

So there it was. Royally screwed over by my own brother for a second time. He had defaulted on his contract with the dojo, threw away the two jobs I had lined up for him, and left me, David, and David’s girlfriend with a big debt. It was all I could do to talk David out of kicking his ass, but of course being the unappreciative imbecile he was Daniel would just talk shit. “Yeah right, he can’t kick my ass!” Sure, Danny boy, you had become a force to be reckoned with in your short-lived two weeks of training. Pathetic.

It was now June. Daniel had received a notice from social security regarding his benefits. Letting it pass him by like everything else in life, he soon lost his SSI. No more free money to blow on his poisoned lifestyle. Mom and the kids had moved on to New Hampshire months before, so with no one to run to he found a job at Old Time Pottery.

Through Mom I heard that Chino was having some problems back there in Stockton and wanted to get away for a while. He and Leticia had already divorced, and he was stressing out because he didn’t have his son in his life anymore. It had been two and a half years since I last saw him, so when I spoke with Grandma on the phone I had her tell him if he wanted to get away for a while he could come stay with me. And so Chino boarded a Greyhound and a few days later Daniel and I went to go pick him up.

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I had come across the country to train, so it was driving me crazy that I couldn’t start. I decided to see how close I could get to Norcross by bus, then depending on the distance, maybe walk or bike the rest of the way. After calling the bus company for information I set out on my mission the next morning.

It took me about two hours of traveling by bus …

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CHAPTER 19.99

A Week in the Desert

Johnnie picked me up at the airport in his big yellow Cadillac. He didn’t live that far from the Vegas strip, and when we passed it I was in awe. So many lights covering such massive structures. I usually don’t like arriving somewhere at night, but I was really glad I did this time. It was a beautiful introduction to one of the world’s most famous cities.

A couple of hours later Johnnie went to go pick up Mom and the kids at the Greyhound station. Johnnie was the type of guy who lived in the past. A ‘60’s cat’. From the music he played to the clothes he wore. You could tell he’d be Motown ‘til death.

Right from the start he and Mom didn’t have the connection they had online. They were just two completely different people, and less than forty-eight hours later she told me her and the two kids would be moving on to Georgia and asked if I was staying.

I had planned on it, but I didn’t know if I wanted to stay with this guy if I was the only one around. I mean, he and Mom were the two who had this supposed connection, and now I was going to be left alone with this odd guy?

(Odd not because of his 60’s style. After all, being a lover of all music, I could appreciate some of the great music that came out of that decade.) No, it was just that my instinct was telling me that I shouldn’t be living with this guy. Maybe it was because he always seemed money hungry.

After considering everything, the deciding factor was that there was a Ninjutsu dojo in Georgia. So I thought I could train there until I had enough savings to move on to Ohio. The guy who headed the dojo was Bud Malmstrom, one of Stephen K. Hayes’ first students, and he had been one of the guest instructors at the Mini Tai Kai. (Not the egotistical one.) So besides the dojo in Dayton, the Bujinkan Atlanta Dojo was one of the best around, and with that I decided to go on to Georgia too.

So why was Mom wanting to move there? Another internet connection she had made. Actually, more like a back up to Johnnie. Another black guy, named Randy. Personally, I didn’t care who she tried to date. More than likely it would end anyway, once they got to know the real her. But if she somehow managed to find a true companion, great. Perhaps it would finally bring some stability to her life.

So after exactly one week in Las Vegas we were now headed Southeast to Georgia. Amoco had mailed me my last check, but since I hadn’t cashed it yet and Mom didn’t have enough money to loan me to get a bus ticket, I had to wait around for an extra few hours for a pawn shop to open while they went ahead.

Once the pawn shop did open I cashed my check at a ridiculous rate and went back to the bus station and found a seat on a bus I’d be stuck on for a couple of days. Oh, joy!

CHAPTER 20

School Of the Divine Warriors

I never truly realized how big Texas was until that bus trip. It took forever to get through! Add to that the remaining distance and man, if it wasn’t for my walkman and imagination I don’t know how I would have made it.

Tired, hungry, and yearning for a shower, I had to wait another couple of hours once I got to Atlanta for Mom, the kids and Randy to show up. Randy was quite a few years younger than Mom, and had a young daughter from a previous relationship. He was staying with a relative, so we had to go find a motel to stay in. We ended up checking into a place near Tucker, a town where the dojo had been located, but Bud had recently moved the training hall to another town, Norcross, so I’d have to wait to visit it.

Randy was a quiet guy, and every time he’d drop by the motel to see us he’d have this look and such about him like, Man, what the hell did I get myself into?!

But he was a good guy and you could tell he wanted to try to make it all work out. He and Mom became somewhat of an item, but he still had this distant feeling about him.

Being in a motel, we were quickly running out of money, and feeling responsible for having given the invitation in the first place, Randy tried his best to help. But he had bills and a daughter to take care of, so he started pawning things to help pay for the motel, including a camcorder I hated to see him lose for such a small price.

After only about a week of being there, and with no more money and things to pawn, Randy moved us into his sister’s place. As usual Mom didn’t fit in with others and soon you could feel the tension in the air. After another week, it was then that we had no other choice but to go to a shelter in Atlanta. The Cascade House. A shelter for battered women and their children.

Mom had Randy drop us off about a block away. She’d tell those who ran the shelter a bullshit story so we’d be accepted, and I’d have to lie about my age in order to stay there with them.

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CHAPTER 19

A Minor Setback,

More Jobs In More Snow,

& Margaritas Galore

Packed and ready to move on, Stephen would now be taking over the studio. I had taken Holmes, our last remaining cat, when Mom moved away, and now that I was leaving I left him to Tavara, Stephen’s girlfriend. She lived on a farm, and I thought it would be a nice place for him to retire to. I couldn’t take my Soloflex either, and since I knew a guy at work who wanted it I notified the company, letting them know he’d be taking over the payments. And so with a few boxes and a bag I boarded a Greyhound bus for Dayton, Ohio.

I had tried making arrangements beforehand, but because Mom had tarnished my credit years earlier I couldn’t find anyone in Dayton who would allow me to reserve and rent. So although I hated Mom’s style of moving somewhere without having anything set up, I didn’t have any other choice but to do the same.

I arrived in Dayton at night and told a taxi driver to take me to the nearest and cheapest motel he knew of in the area of town where the dojo was. The next morning I took two buses to the dojo just to find out that it was closed for a couple of weeks for renovations. No wonder there had been no answer when I tried calling. So I bought a newspaper, headed back to the motel, and started looking for a place to live.

Again I was in a Catch-22. For the places I could afford, I couldn’t pass the required credit check. And for the ones who would just take cash, I didn’t have enough of it. That motel was really eating away my savings, and after a week I knew I’d have to take Mom up on her offer and go stay with them in Salt Lake City for a while.

I had finally got in contact with Mrs. Hayes, but she said she didn’t know anyone who needed a roommate and just to be patient and that my time would come. Being the celebrities they were in the Ninjutsu world, I couldn’t just ask them for help, so disappointed but not defeated, I put my dream on hold and headed to Salt Lake City.

Mom and the kids had found an apartment about thirty minutes from the city. The day after I arrived I went with them on their scheduled trip to the food bank. (As in a few bags of free groceries, mostly canned items. Ah, just like the ol’ days.) I still had a little bit of money left and helped out too.

That same afternoon I immediately started looking for work. There was a Japanese restaurant across the street from the complex and I really wanted to work there so I could start learning the language for Ninjutsu. But business was slow, so the owner had no work for me. A week and many applications later I was hired at a Subway Sandwiches. It was about a forty-five minute walk each way, but I didn’t care. I had a mission to accomplish.

My boss was a young owner and took a liking to me right away. I’ve always had the habit of rinsing dishes before washing them. Something he never knew anybody else to do except for himself. Everyday he’d comment on how impressed he was with my work ethic, which made it that much harder when I had to quit just a few weeks later.

You see, half of the applications I had turned in were at bars and restaurants with bars, in hopes of finally being able to put my mixology education to use. Well, one of the establishments ended up calling me. El Chihuahua Mexican Restaurant. Before I attended bartending school a year and a half earlier I had no idea how hard it was to obtain such work. Now I knew, because those who were lucky enough to find a position as such would have the potential to earn fast money. So now that I was being offered the opportunity, I just had to take it.

My forty-five-minute walk to work was now double, but that was fine with me. Even with the bitter cold of winter coming in, as long as I had my walkman I was happy. Daniel had recently been released from juvenile hall and soon came up to stay with us. He’d have to go back at the beginning of the year to resolve the issue, but at least he’d be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

When it came to El Chihuahua fast money wasn’t part of the job. My shift was from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m., weekdays. And since it was a restaurant with no bar stools I had to depend on the waitresses to be honest with the tips, which they weren’t, as I was only being given an average of seven dollars a night.

And to make matters worse, 99% of the drinks ordered were either beer, margaritas, or wine. So yeah, I got pretty good making senorita Margarita. One time though I actually got an order for a Sex on the Beach. I was so excited! And proud as I put it up for the waitress to pick up.

There was a gas station across the street from our apartment complex, Amoco, and the following month in December I noticed a Now Hiring sign in the window. At the rate I was going at El Chihuahua it would take me years to save up enough to get back to Ohio, so I applied hoping to take on a second job. I was hired and soon began working thirteen hours a day. Five at the restaurant and eight at the gas station, graveyard shift.

Now that we were in the winter months it started to snow. Something we hadn’t seen since Minneapolis. And we were no better prepared for it either. There was this one helpful tip I learned in such weather though, at least when it came to the job. Because of the freezing temperatures the gas nozzles would sometimes freeze up and not work. In order to fix the problem we had to place the nozzles on the ground for like twenty to thirty minutes, and then they’d be back in working condition. Guess it was something to do with the heat from the cement.

One night a guy in a nice car and suit came in. With the weather so cold I’d be wearing my jacket, which had my Shadows of Iga members patch on it. He asked me about it and we soon started talking.

Learning of my situation and goals he asked, “Wouldn’t you like a job where you only worked part time yet made enough money to train anywhere and anytime you wanted?”

Of course, who wouldn’t want such a job?! He then gave me his card and told me to call him if I was serious. His name was Boyce, and he sure looked and sounded like he was legit. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character, so sensing his sincerity I called him the next day.

A couple of days later he and a couple of his colleagues picked me up and took me to a diner to discuss business. Actually his colleague was the one doing most of the talking, going over different forms of distribution and such.

Remember, I’m pretty business-minded, so if someone goes over a plan with me I’m pretty quick on understanding it. What they were saying seemed to make sense, at least in theory, but they still weren’t coming right out and saying what exactly they did for a living.

It’s like they wanted to give information gradually, and said we’d discuss it more at another informal meeting. Well, I didn’t know their precise business, but judging from the common sense of the information they did provide me, along with how they carried themselves, this was a group I could see myself being a part of.

Our next get together would be in a few days, and wanting to fit in as well as prove to these guys that I was serious, I went out and bought a suit. Sure it was cheap at a hundred and forty dollars, but it looked pretty good. And I didn’t have one anyway.

The next time we met they seemed impressed with my enthusiasm, and after some more distribution talk invited me to go on a trip with them to Provo, Utah, where all my questions would be answered.

Talking to my boss at the restaurant about it, he was like, “I don’t know, sounds a little like, Amway. Are you sure it’s not ScamWay?”

Apparently, that’s how many people viewed Amway. As a scam. The granddaddy of pyramid schemes that didn’t really work except for the people at the very top.

Although I had heard the name before, I didn’t really know anything about the company. And since Boyce and the others never mentioned the actual name Amway, it was still possible that their business was something else. Either way, being the optimist I was I thought I’d at least continue to look into it

I didn’t mention the conversation with my boss to Boyce and the others. I wanted to see where they were going with this whole thing and planned to find out at the meeting in Provo. After driving for a few hours we finally reached our destination, where more people were dressed in business attire like us.

Once the meeting got started the head honcho guest speaker took the podium. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes of positive talk the company name came up. Amway.

I felt a certain kind of disappointment in the pit of my stomach,

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CHAPTER 18

Fulfilling A Wish,

My First Place,

& A Farewell to Flesh

While in Stockton I had discovered something disturbing. Grandpa Borelli’s ashes were in a box in Grandma’s spare room. Actually, they were in a plastic bag within a box about the size of a shoe box. Being a Navy man and having a fondness for the sea, Grandpa Borelli wanted his ashes to be spread over the ocean, and yet they had been sitting in that box for the past four years.

On the day that I left town I went over to Grandma’s house and the two of us snuck his ashes out while Loyd was in the other bedroom. For some reason Grandma didn’t want him knowing, so we kept it a secret. Since I was headed up north near the coastline I’d be the one to fulfill Grandpa’s wish.

When I got into the car Mom had rented she asked me what was that in the bag at my feet. “Grandpa Borelli,” I said. Shocked, but at the same time pleased, she smiled.

Klamath was so small that if you were to start playing a song in your car when you entered, you’d be out before the song was over. The highway ran through the tiny town, and Mom and the kids had been living in a duplex right beside that highway. Crescent City was about forty-five minutes away, with a shuttle making the trip back and forth a few times a day. Right away I knew I’d have to relocate as soon as I could, since Klamath had no opportunities for employment at all. In the meantime, Mom and the kids showed me the three things to see in the small community. The convenience store, a couple of tourist shops, and the surrounding forest. I was ready to get on that shuttle for Crescent City the very next day!

I wanted to get Grandpa Borelli in the ocean right away. To me, four years had been four years too long, so I made sure to bring him along. Crescent City was comparable to only one area of Stockton as far as size went, but it was better than a couple of spots along the highway, which Klamath basically was. We found a deserted area of the beach where a large hunk of a rock stood. As tall as a few storeys. Since the path to the top wasn’t that inclined and the edge dropped off into the ocean waters this is where we’d free Grandpa Borelli’s ashes. Judging from the sea below, there wouldn’t be a problem with him washing out to the vast water world.

Upon opening the firm plastic box and the plastic within it I discovered that the ashes looked more like gravel. I guess all those little pieces that looked liked pebbles were actually bone. When carrying it I remember thinking that it felt quite heavy, but then again it was Grandpa Borelli. (Minus one leg.)

After everyone said their goodbyes and with box in hand I crept as close to the edge of the mountainous rock as I could, then poured him out over it. A gust of wind came up, blowing some of the ashes back up my way. (More like chalk dust than ashes.)

This didn’t freak me out as much as I would have imagined, but nonetheless, you don’t expect the ashes of a loved one to be blown back up in your face!

Once Grandpa Borelli had been all poured out I tossed the box over the cliff too. Was this why I was the only one he sort of remembered during his last days? Did his soul somehow know that I’d be the one who would carry out his departing wish? I suppose it’s possible. I’m just glad I could fulfill it, and only wished it could have been done right after his passing.

Not having many options to choose from, I applied at the one place I had good experience with. Burger King. Unfortunately due to the very limited schedule of the shuttle, management couldn’t use me during the few hours I was available. Hence, I was in a catch-22 position. I either needed a car, or needed to live in Crescent City to be available for work, but needed a job to have money for either one. And so I had to waste a few weeks away in Klamath until an opportunity came up.

Daniel and Mom were constantly at odds. He was nearly seventeen and wanting to hang with his friends all the time. When it came to this age, he and I differed in two major ways. One, he didn’t have a drive to work. I’ve always had. And two, he didn’t give a shit about school. I didn’t much enjoy learning about things that didn’t support my future goals, but at least I had goals. And even if I hated a subject, I never let my grades suffer. He on the other hand was getting straight F’s, literally.

And half the time he’d refuse to even get up to go to school. So between this and the normal chaos of the household, he and Mom couldn’t be under the same roof, and he was soon placed in a foster home in Crescent City.

Given his performance in school, Daniel was put on a special independent study type program. The set-up was similar to what I had done, but why in the world did they believe he would be self-motivated enough to do his assignments at home?! Who knows.

The home he was placed in was with a woman named Kimt. A hirty-something, who was divorced and had two kids from her Filipino ex. Cody, about eight, and Keesha, around six. I started to visit Daniel in his trailer foster home, and before long would stay the night every so often.

One night while staying over, Kim had been drinking with her younger companion. A store run needed to be made, and given the fact that I was the only sober adult there I offered to be the one to go. So with the keys to Kim’s station wagon, Daniel and I were off to the store. I didn’t have a license, but since it was only a quick run I didn’t think much of it.

Still living in Klamath, I didn’t know Crescent City that well, especially at night. On the way back from the store and in the right-hand lane I mistakenly veered right, not realizing we were heading for the entrance of the highway. By the time I did realize it it was too late to turn back. Now on the freeway, I planned to get off at the first exit and head back, but no exits were coming up! Five minutes turned into ten, then fifteen. At this rate we’d probably end up in Oregon!

It was around eleven at night so there were hardly any cars out. Looking at the center divider, it looked like I could just drive across on the grassy area and head back the other way. Having no idea when an exit would appear, and not knowing if we’d find our way to the entrance once we did exit, (some highway exits and entrances are right across from each other, but others are not and could get you lost) one thing was for sure. The longer we kept driving the more of a chance I’d have of getting pulled over or running out of gas. So I decided to go for it and as soon as there were no cars in sight I slowed down and headed across the divider to the other side. Halfway through, the car got stuck!

My heart started to pound a mile a minute. I kept flooring the gas, but nothing. I then told Daniel to jump out and start pushing. A few cars passed on each side of the highway, but they just kept going. Who knows what they were thinking. All I knew was that we‟d be screwed if a cop passed. So I kept flooring the gas while Daniel kept pushing. Some of the longest few minutes of my life! Finally, the car budged and we were back on pavement!

I breathed such a sigh of relief as we were now on the opposite side heading back to Crescent City. As we approached the exit and saw familiar surroundings Daniel and I were like, “Damn, that was a close one!”

Next thing we knew a siren went off behind us.

Shit! After that whole ordeal I was now being pulled over?! Nearing the trailer park I pulled up right before it.

The cop had stopped me because my high beams were on. This was something I had noticed in the store parking lot, but had no idea on how to switch them to low. So I just drove with them instead of no lights at all. I was disgusted to see how simple it was to go from one to the other after the cop reached in and double-clicked the switch.

Learning that I had no driver’s license, he ran my California State ID and then wrote me a ticket for driving without a license. Fortunately, because we were right outside the trailer park and he wasn’t an ass, he allowed me to drive the car in. My court date was scheduled for the following month.

When we drove into Kim’s driveway and I turned off the car I just wanted to get those keys out of my hands and back into hers. I had tried to do a good deed by preventing someone from driving drunk, and in return I went through hell and was now facing court. But being the optimist I am I said, “at least we didn’t get caught in that center divider!” And we were sure not to tell Kim about that part!

A couple of weeks later, Kim, her two kids, and Daniel moved into a nice two-storey town house just a couple of blocks from the beach. Now with extra space, I had Daniel ask Kim if I could move in. I’d pay her like a hundred bucks a month until I found my own place. She said sure, and I immediately went back to talk to the manager at Burger King. A couple of days later I started slingin’ Whoppers again.

As usual, they started me in the kitchen. Although I had made it known during the interview that I could work any position, they put me on the simplest, the broiler. Basically, putting in the meat patties and buns on one side and going around to the other side to retrieve them as they came out cooked. Not realizing my strengths, they were letting my talents go to waste.

A middle-aged woman named Pam owned the restaurant. She was married to this guy, Richard, near the same age, who before marrying into the business supposedly was a bagger at the local Safeway grocery store. A lot of employees would tease him behind his back, saying such things as “Paper or plastic?” After my first couple of hours on the job I understood why they didn’t respect him. He was a rude ass!

During the lunch rush you’re constantly feeding the broiler with meat and buns, then rushing over to the other side to catch them. You have to make sure you balance the two, otherwise you’ll either run out of cooked hamburgers and Whoppers or have them piling up on each other if you’re not there to catch them.

Well, as I’m doing my thing Richard comes up and gets on my case for not staying on the one end of feeding the broiler. If you have two people working it, sure you can stay on one end only, but if you’re the only one you’ve got to balance the two. So here this ass was, not even knowing me yet jumping on my case without realizing what I was up to. I tried to explain, but he kept cutting me off, telling me to just get over to the other side and stay there. I said fine, but that I had a question for him later. Meaning that I would explain myself after the rush, and that if he only wanted me to feed the broiler, who did he expect to be on the other side catching?

So with just simply saying, “Ok, but I have a question for you later on,” his response was, “No questions. You either do it or you clock out!”

It was all I could do not to go off on that idiot. Respecting a boss is one thing. Putting up with someone talking shit for no reason other than that person being an asshole is quite another! But I managed to stay calm and avoid his dumbass as much as I could.

Within a couple of days the members of management as well as everyone else began to see who they really had on the payroll now. Without waiting for permission, I’d jump on the Whopper board and do my thing. Yeah, I thought to myself. Show me someone who’s faster and is just as accurate!

I was soon positioned on the Whopper board every day. Unfortunately, this willful ignorance and stubbornness exists in every industry. You can stand there and tell someone until you’re blue in the face how good of a job you can do, but due to egotistical problems, as well as the above mentioned, oftentimes people won’t give you that chance to prove yourself. Even if it would be of great benefit to them if they would just listen and see for themselves.

So the only thing you can do when dealing with such imbeciles is to be ready to just slide in and prove yourself when the opportunity arises, or to move on. After all, if they’re going to be so obstinate, they don’t deserve the success they would get from your talents anyway.

So yeah, ignoring the stupidity around me I went from station to station proving myself, and soon they did what all my past employers had done. Put me where they needed the strongest performer. It feels really good to do a great job for good people, and I only wish the world didn’t have so few of them.

Before long I had the schedule I wanted, the hours I wanted, and the position I wanted. All for proving what I had already mentioned in my interview. That I could work anywhere in the restaurant and do it well. While working 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., I’d be the only person in the kitchen for the first four hours. Multitasking all positions. Guess who became one of my biggest fans? Yep, the ignoranus, Richard. It was weird seeing him nice to me yet still treating others like shit. Even when I’d try to buy a cinnamon roll or something on my break, he’d give it to me for free. I was glad I was finally being appreciated. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just a chance to prove myself.

When my court date came around the judge gave me an option. Either get my license or face more trouble, including penalty fees. So Kim allowed me to practice in her car and a week or two later, after passing my written exam, I went for the driving portion.

Driving around the small city, I followed the instructions of the examiner. Once we got to the intersection by Denny’s he told me to turn left. This is where I made my detrimental mistake.

You see, ever since I first began observing others drive I’ve always noticed one common thing that everyone does when turning left at an intersection. They actually pull out into the intersection as oncoming cars pass. This way they can turn left as soon as it’s clear. Having witnessed everyone I have ever been in a car with do this, I thought such technique was part of normal lawful driving.

Wrong!

The examiner said it’s blocking an intersection, and no matter how well you do with everything else on the test, if you make that mistake it’s an automatic failure. Not to say I was doing great with the rest. I didn’t feel that confident in that station wagon anyway. Perhaps it was because of my first experience with it. At any rate, I had failed and needed to concentrate on taking it again, and soon, so I could beat that ticket.

Kim’s mom had a smaller car. Although the power-steering was a little off I felt much better with it when I tried it out, and was able to use it for my second test. And boy was there a big difference! It was like I was one with that delightful little car. Even when the dreaded turn near Denny’s came up, I had it down! (I found out later that he always gets people on that turn. I knew I wasn’t the only one!)

Pulling back into the DMV parking lot, I knew I aced the test, and sure enough I got the PASS. Proud of my accomplishment, I went into court and got my case dismissed.

Going through the jackass stage of adolescence, Daniel was butting heads with Kim a lot. He ended up going back home to Mom and the kids, while I continued looking for my own place. Now that I had money back in my pocket I ordered these VHS instructional tapes from Stephen K. Hayes, as well as joining his Shadows of Iga Society. I really appreciated this new exposure to the art, but you can only learn so much from books and videos, and so I kept working towards my goal of actual hands-on training.

After a month at BK I finally found a place of my own. It was a studio-type, where everything but the bathroom was in one room. The great thing about it was that it was less than a block from work. I soon had all that I needed. A TV. A phone. Even a Soloflex I was making monthly payments on. (Wanted to be in shape so when time came for me to move to Ohio I’d be ready to train)

Besides learning more about Stephen K. Hayes I also began to learn about the 34th grandmaster of the art, Hatsumi Sensei. From how he was the first to allow foreigners to study the secretive art to how he chose to live his life, including not eating meat. In my eyes, this man who had proven himself to be a true master in such an intriguing art was amazing, and I wanted to model myself after him. So the following month in May of 1995 I decided to give up meat. Cold turkey! (No pun intended)

I've always been an average meat eater. Fish, pork, chicken, beef. And now I was giving it all up as part of my devotion to the art of Ninjutsu. Some might think working at a burger place such as BK might’ve made my endeavor a lot harder, but being the driven guy I was I wasn’t fazed. Instead of Whoppers with cheese I now ate veggie Whoppers with cheese. It’s basically the same thing, but with no meat patty. A lot of people think ordering a hamburger with no meat is strange, but it’s actually just a really good cheese sandwich.

I soon started growing accustomed to my meat-free diet, and would only rarely have a small desire when I happen to smell bacon. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t become a health nut who lived off wheat germ and water. I still drank my cola and ate my sweets. But at least it was a step forward toward my new life. My personal sacrifice to the art I so desired to become one with.

The next couple of months went by relatively quickly, with me spending most of my time at work. Being summertime, business picked up even more. I had fought for the title of Production Leader and got it. After all, I was already doing the job of one. The restaurant manager had recently quit, and Richard’s daughter from his first marriage was being brought in to replace her.

She had no experience, and I was one of the key people who trained her in the kitchen. She was pretty cute, but already married with two kids. (Although it had been said that she was heading for a divorce.) During her training, Pam and Richard decided to keep their vacation plans and entrust the restaurant with the management team we currently had.

Since Richard’s daughter was still getting used to the kitchen, I took on the role of head honcho in front, which basically meant overseeing and directing all aspects of the operation. Expediting the orders. Deciding on food levels. Supplying change for the cashiers. Etc. Too bad Pam and Richard weren’t around to see how smoothly things went.

You know by now how much of an honest person I am and thus wouldn’t be saying such if it weren’t true. For those few days things really did run smoother than usual. But I didn’t have the royal blood of the owners, so once again I’d have to put up with being passed over. But my main focus was on becoming a practitioner in the ancient art of the Ninja, not becoming King of Burger King. So although I enjoyed conducting a seamless fast-food orchestra for a few days, I had more important things to pursue.

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One time I had the night off and me and my cousin Moose were the only two home. He was the younger of my two cousins, around fourteen at the time, and we called him Moose because of his size. It was around midnight and we were watching one of the movies from the Phantasm series when all of a sudden the sound of a very loud impact came from outside.

Without saying anything we looked at each other, then both rushed outside. We lived only a couple of houses from the corner and saw that an accident had taken place. After running back into the house long enough to get our jackets, we went to go check it out.

We were the first on the scene. A big ol’ 70’s Cadillac had plowed into a small Honda. It was somewhat foggy out, but we thought we saw the driver of the Cadillac running away down the street. When we looked in the Honda a woman was in the driver’s seat and a guy in the passenger’s seat, both barely conscious with bloodied faces. The only reason they were still in the car was because they were wearing seat belts.

We realized this after we noticed two more passengers, a guy and a girl, who had both been thrown out of the back seat. The girl was barely conscious as well, trying to sit herself up but in too much pain to do so. We told her to just stay there and that help was on the way, as we had heard that our neighbor had called 911.

As for the other ejected passenger, he had been thrown into someone’s chain link fence. It had bent inwards as if it had caught him. He was motionless, face down and didn’t answer when we asked if he was ok.

A few minutes later emergency services arrived. After watching for a little while longer and telling the cops that we were pretty sure the driver ran off down the street, which was why the Cadillac was empty, we went back inside the house. About five minutes later we went back to look again. There was now a white sheet over the guy in the fence!

It creeped the hell out of us knowing that we had been so close to a dead body, especially since we had been watching a movie where the dead come back to life to kill within a funeral home.

By the time we went to bed it was about 3 a.m. and we were still the only two home. Given the circumstances, Moose didn’t want to sleep alone in his bedroom upstairs, so he joined me to sleep in the one I had been using. That was a night I’m sure neither of us will ever forget.

******Note from the present: Two years ago something happened to Moose that was eerily similar to that night. Stick with my life story and we’ll get to it)

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I had an unforgettable night with his brother, my other cousin Mike, as well. He was seventeen years old and already into cigs, booze, and certain drugs. His drug of choice was Crank, which I hear is similar to Cocaine. Most of the time he was on the go, hanging around like-minded people. But one night we both had nothing to do and started talking about movies. His favorite was Scarface. After telling him that I had seen it when I was younger but didn’t remember everything, he wanted me to watch it with him, so we were off to the video store.

Once we got back to the house and started watching the film he couldn’t stop talking about how cool Tony Montana was. I have to agree, it’s one of Al’s best pieces of work.

We then went upstairs to his and Moose’s room, where we talked about drugs, money, etc. I forget how the subject of Crank came up, but he showed me the little he had on him. It was my first time seeing such a drug, and he said he was about to do a line.

Being a generous host, he offered me to join him, thinking I would decline like I always had done when it comes to anything crappy for the body. (Beer, cigarettes, etc.) But after all that talk I felt a bit curious. What if I just tried a little? It would only be a one-time thing…

So to his surprise I said, “Yeah, I’ll try a line.”

He was now somewhat iffy about giving me some because he knew how easy it was to become addicted to it. After all, he was doing it every day or so.

“You gotta promise me that this will be your one and only time. I would never be able to forgive myself if you got hooked on this shit like me.”

It is a very rare thing for me to promise something because I truly believe in one’s word and hate letting people down. I suppose this comes from a childhood of empty promises and letdowns. So unless I know I will be in complete control of the outcome I won’t promise, but instead tell a person I’ll do everything within my power to not let them down. And when I say such a thing I truly mean it. But yeah, I appreciated him looking out for me.

So after assuring Mike he schooled me on using Crank. Basically, I was to close one nostril and use the hollowed pen to snort the line up my other nostril. Then dip my index finger and thumb into the glass of water and snort the droplets. Chasing the Crank with water was meant to clean the nose, since the stuff was so strong that it could burn holes in there.

He said there would be a bitter taste in the back of my throat, and that some people hated it. He’d go first so I could observe. He said normally it was rude to watch a person do it, but since I was his cousin, along with the fact of being my first time, he didn’t mind at all if I watched him.

He brought out this big framed picture of a lion’s head and cleaned off the glass. He then poured some of the white powder onto the surface, a rather thick and long line for him and a small skinny line for me. (Didn’t want to overdose on my first try!)

I watched Mike go first and he did the process exactly like he had explained it. Now it was my turn. I looked at the line…

Looked at the hollowed pen…

Then went for it.

It didn’t really burn like I had feared. The best word I could use to describe it would be odd. The water felt good and the bitter taste in the back of my throat did’t really bother me. Within a couple of minutes I was wired!

More awake and hyper than I had ever felt in my life! I had to start moving.

I wanted a cigarette.

Was there any Coke downstairs in the frig?

I felt like Beavis from Beavis and Butthead when he has too much coffee to drink and turns into cornholio!

Mike only had a couple of cigarettes left and there was no Coke, so we walked a few blocks to AM/PM. Once we got back to the house and upstairs about an hour had passed and he was ready to do a second line.

I felt kinda shy to ask, but I wanted more too!

“Is it ok if I have another line too? I mean if you have enough.”

He said sure, and not to feel bad for asking. But to just make sure this was a one-night thing. And so I introduced my other nostril to the ‘nose candy’.

I had become a poster child for the saying, ‘Hyped Up On Drugs.’ I couldn[t be still for the life of me. Constantly rocking myself from left to right while smoking one cigarette after another. Mike was getting kinda nervous seeing me fidget around so much, but I assured him I was fine. I tried lying down for a minute, but this caused me to feel my heart beat much faster, and I had a strong feeling that if I didn’t keep moving something would happen to me. So I stood back up and went back to shifting my weight back and forth.

After a while we heard something strange coming from downstairs. A loud squeaking sound. We didn’t want Uncle Mike waking up, so we quietly went down to investigate. A mouse had gotten stuck on one of the sticky pads meant to kill mice. We decided to take it out to the backyard. At first we were just going to leave it out there, but I hated the idea of this living thing going through such a slow and inhumane death, even if it was just a mouse, so I told Mike we had to find a way to kill it to put it out of its misery.

Nothing was coming to mind. That is until we saw the walnuts on the ground. (Remember the walnut tree in the backyard? Where I had dug and found that old scale?)

Mike told me he’d be right back, then went inside for a minute. He returned with a slingshot. We would stone the mouse to death, only with walnuts! With the force of the slingshot it would be dead with just a few hits.

Ok, normally there’s no way in hell I’d do something like this, but we were still in hyper-drive from the Crank, and since it really would mean a faster death for the mouse, I said, “Let‟s do it!”

Mike went first.

Then me.

Then him.

Then me.

It was like we were in fast forward. After about a minute and a barrage of walnuts we were out of breath. We looked down to the little fella and he was done for. Dead as dead could be. I really felt we had done the more humane thing.

Couldn’t we have just thrown him out into the street to get ran over? Yeah, but that didn’t occur to our distorted minds at the time. But the important thing to remember is our reasoning behind it. Nowadays I won’t even harm a roach if I don’t have to. To me, life is important no matter what form it comes in. Whether it be a cute puppy dog or a filthy rat. That doesn’t mean I like playing with filthy rats. It just means I respect life and avoid killing. Well, maybe not mosquitoes

After our walnut mayhem we returned upstairs and talked the night away. The closer it got to sunrise the more I felt like a toy running out of battery life. Around 6 a.m. Mike had fallen asleep, so I went downstairs to my room to try to follow suit. I managed to do so, and woke later that afternoon, dazed.

Mike hadn’t woken up yet. He had told me the night before that he would be going to a party, where he’d get some more Crank. Now that I had experienced it, and liked it, I was really hoping he would ask me if I wanted to come along. I had this craving within for more, but wanted to fight it for two reasons.

One, I had assured Mike I wouldn’t get hooked on it, and two, what, was I crazy?! Why would I risk becoming a drug addict when I didn’t even smoke or drink? I’ve always been the guy who got high on life, not some pathetic drug. Yet that craving was still there, and pretty strong.

Spending the afternoon sitting on the porch watching traffic go by, I was surprised to see Chino pull up. He acted kind of strange as he asked me how things were going, then went into the house. Did he know what I had been up to the night before? Had Uncle Mike known and called him? Was he there to get on Mike’s case for exposing me to it?

Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me. Chino didn’t say much when he left, and I didn’t talk to anyone about it. If someone had approached me about it they wouldn’t really have had any room to talk, because I surely wasn’t the only one around there who had experimented with such things.

This little exploration had taken place before I left Heald, and I actually had a couple of classes that evening. During typing class I remember sitting there feeling antsy, the craving still within me. It actually took a few days to get past that hunger for more, and I had just done two lines! I was now a firm believer in how easy one could become an addict to drugs, and now understood how those with less willpower could fall victim so fast. Never again would I flirt with such a dangerous substance. One time was more than enough to learn my lesson. After all, I still had so many dreams and goals to accomplish, none of which would be attainable if I were a slave to some drug. To this day I don’t smoke, drink, and sure as hell don’t play around with any drugs.

By the time December came along

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CHAPTER 17

A Bitch Of A Betrayal,

A Night In Fast-Forward,

And Working In Slo–Mo

My boss at Renaissance Security said he hated to see me go, and was even planning to give me a permanent spot in a “comfy location”, where I’d be sitting down watching security monitors. As with all my past employers, he wished me luck, offered me a great reference, and said there would always be a job waiting for me if I needed it.

Funny how things end up. I was now the one leaving town before Mom and the kids. After taking the eight-hour bus ride up to Stockton, Chino was there at the station to pick me up. Once we got to the one-bedroom duplex, Jackie and Alex showed me a sign they had made which said, ‘Welcome Home Uncle Rico’. As for baby Eric, he just looked at me like he somehow knew who I was but wasn’t sure.

Chino was working two full time jobs, often putting in overtime. Working security at one and wielding at another. Leticia worked as well, at one of those places where you could get your glasses in one hour. They had two cars. A nice Chrysler and an older one, with Chino usually using the latter. The first few weeks there I’d help them out by babysitting the kids. This gave Eric a chance to get to know me again. In the mornings I’d sometimes use one of the cars to drop Jackie and Alex off at school. I really enjoyed driving the Chrysler because it ran so smooth. But most of the time I’d just walk them, while pushing Eric along in the stroller. Dropping Jackie off was no problem, but with Alex it was a nightmare. He didn’t want to be left alone there and would scream when I tried to go. The walks back home with Eric were nice, with many times people assuming he was my son. By the time we’d reach the halfway point he’d always be asleep.

In the afternoons after I’d pick up the kids it was like a mad house there at the duplex. Their cousins lived next door, and all would be running around like crazy. I’d oftentimes take them all to the park around the corner to get them tired, so by the time evening came they’d be settled down.

Although I was babysitting, I felt like I really needed to find work, so I started turning in applications. Unfortunately, most places were fully staffed, or so they claimed. I came across an ad that I had seen for a Business Administration program at Heald Business School. Since I had always had a fondness for business and liked the idea of working in an office as opposed to a fast-food kitchen or zombified as a security guard, I looked into it. I decided to enroll, but still needed a job to take care of finances here and there.

I wasn’t too keen on going back to work as a security guard, but I hadn’t had any luck finding anything else, so I applied at the company Chino worked for, Pinkerton Security. I needed evening work since I went to school during the day. After being hired and going through a tedious orientation of watching videos and doing workbook-type assignments I started working at the building where the main office was located. Chino let me use his dress up clothes for school since we were encouraged to wear business attire.

He also did something I wasn’t expecting. He gave me his second car. He said he’d have to use it sometimes until he got another one, but that it was mine now. Wow, my first car! And it was given to me by my big brother. I planned on fixing it up really nice and washed it that afternoon to a shine. I didn’t have a driver’s license, but planned on getting one asap.

I was soon transferred to work security at a shopping center across town, which was good because it was close to the school. In order to stay there I had to switch to a day shift, which meant changing my school schedule to evening classes. My favorite class was one I didn’t know I’d like when I first started, but soon found that it was pretty interesting. Accounting. I enjoyed learning how businesses kept track of their finances and the whole balancing act of the accounting equation. The class did make me think of Renee though, and wondering how things were going for her as a CPA.

When you live with someone for a while you get to know who they truly are. Back in Pasadena, Leticia was outside her normal environment, so she had kept her facade going of acting like a genuine good person. But given the fact that I was on her turf now, along with having been there for over two months, she couldn’t hide her inner ugliness, nor did she try. I’m not saying she was evil. After all, everybody has a good and bad side. But if someone is really a good and sincere person that bad side usually only comes up when it has to be used as a defensive tool. Well, Leticia’s inner ugliness was not out of defending herself, but rather from being a spoiled brat. I’m sure she would deny it, but as the old saying goes, ‘actions speak louder than words.’

For example, once while babysitting the kids I packed them all into the car to go pick her up from the mall. We would then go pick up Chino. So as I got to the mall I pulled up beside the curb so she could get in the car. It was around five o‟clock so traffic was pretty heavy, otherwise I would have parked and given her the keys. As soon as she got in she scooted me out the driver’s seat while saying, “give me my car.”

These were the type of things she’d do every now and then, but I’d just let it go without saying anything so as not to cause problems. That is until Halloween.

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Although I enjoyed the free movies at Pacific Theatres, if I wanted to earn enough to start vocal lessons I‟d have to get a better paying job. Ritchie told me that they were looking for another security guard there at the bowling alley, so I decided to apply at the main office of the company which serviced the establishment, Renaissance Security.

The guy who owned the security company was like one of those blunt and to-the-point type of guys from New York. But he was willing to give me a chance, and for that I respected him. Before being hired though I had to go take a test that all security guards had to pass before being able to work. And I’d have to get 100% on it.

I thought for sure I’d end up having to take it at least a couple of times before passing, but then, to my relief, I found out that it was open book. So after paying the exam fee and learning all about the legal rights and responsibilities of security guards, (including the fact that a security guard has no more power than your average citizen) I returned to Renaissance with my form stating that I had passed and was ready for hire. And so I actually was and put in a two week notice at the theatre.

For the first few weeks I worked at the bowling alley. Although we didn’t have any special authority other than watching over the place on behalf of the owner, I felt obligated to take the job seriously, meaning always staying alert and keeping an eye out for any disturbances. At one time I had wanted to be a cop, but due to my visual impairment of being blind in one eye, as well as the powers that be possibly having a problem with the way my back was (even though I didn’t, and could do anything anybody else could do) I was told I wouldn’t pass the physical requirements. So this would be the closest I’d ever come to law enforcement.

Meanwhile Mom was already growing tired of Pasadena. Well, it was nearing a year, which kept in time with her usual nomadic clock. That, and the fact that she was again falling way behind on rent and bills. Claiming she wanted a slower pace, she started talking about wanting to move up north to the small mountainous town of Klamath. Had she already forgotten about Greenville, and how restless she had become there?

Well, one thing was for certain. I didn’t want to go. So now with no more than a month to find a place to live I didn’t know when I’d ever be able to get back to vocal lessons. Steve had an extra bedroom at his place, and although he wanted to charge quite a bit for rent and utilities, I didn’t have any other options at the time. Things had gotten pretty ugly between Mom and the owner, so she and the kids went back to the motel we were staying at beforehand for a month before moving on to Klamath while I moved in with Steve. He was an alright guy, yet the type you had to keep your eye on when it came to money. He always wanted to overcharge while bringing it in and pay as little as possible when paying out. His main source of income involved painting well-to-do houses, while taking advantage of hiring really cheap help to assist him. Before I got hired at Pacific Theatres I had helped him on a job. Eight hours of work for only twenty dollars. That’s only two dollars and fifty cents an hour! Needless to say I never went on another job with him again.

One day my boss at Renaissance called me and asked if I’d be willing to work a graveyard shift at Del Taco in Hollywood. I was used to staying up late anyway, and wanted to be someone he could count on, so I said sure.

Hollywood was a lot rowdier of a place than Pasadena, but I was game. So armed with nothing more than my utility belt, handcuffs and a 5-cell Mag Lite (almost two hundred dollars of supplies that I had purchased myself since the company didn’t supply it) I was on a bus to Hollywood with two Jolt Colas and some caffeine pills.

The bowling alley was a convent compared to Hollywood! Gang bangers, prostitutes, ravers. And all other walks of life you could imagine. Most of them were cool though, giving some type of friendly gesture as they came and went. But man was it a seedy place. Prostitutes trying to get into the bathroom to do a job. Some drugs being dealt here and there. And I’ll never forget the two guys who met each other right there in the small parking lot. A white guy had just come out of the restaurant with his bag of tacos when a black guy approached him. They started talking and soon walked over to the white guy’s truck. He took his seat on the driver’s side, leaving the truck door open where the black guy was standing and talking to him.

The black guy was definitely the pursuer, with the white guy being the innocent who was just curious enough to keep the game going. Next thing you know the black guy was unbuttoning his boy toy’s shirt and then began to go for the nipple. Ok, I thought to myself. I’ll give these guys two more minutes as long as he doesn’t go down any further, and if they’re still at it I’m gonna have to tell them to move on. You see, when you’re working in such an environment you have to be kinda liberal. You have to understand that this is how such a place is after dark, and if you go in trying to be an uptight asshole, bad things could happen. Of course you need to do your job, but you need to know when and to what extent to be the person of authority. Otherwise, not only will these people not respect you, but they’ll likely to show it. No one ever advised me on such things. It’s just something I knew from having sense. Fortunately, the two love birds left before I had to stop amateur porn night.

With every passing gang member I really had to stay alert because you never know. Later that night a bass-pounding lowrider pulled in. About a half dozen Mexican American bangers got out, with a few going into the restaurant, and a few headed my way. The one in front started asking me how long I’ve worked there, when did my shift end, etc. I was sometimes coy, depending on the question, while making sure I kept my eye on the ones in the restaurant too.

Once the food was paid for and they started to walk out I breathed a little easier. After all, me and my long flashlight was no match for a car full of ‘homies.’

Before he left, the guy who had been talking to me said, “You working tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “I’m not sure.”

“You like tamales?”

“Yeah.” I said.

Licking his lips and looking me up and down he then said, “I’ll bring you some homemade ones tomorrow. See you.”

They then all got back in their ride and drove off, blasting off some hydraulics as they did so. What a trippy night this had turned out to be. Here I was thinking I might be in danger with these gang bangers, but in truth I was just being hit on.

And in a non-threatening way. He had actually spoken very nice to me. So although I didn’t swing that way, I was grateful for the positive outcome. Hopefully the fill-in was for that one night only though, because I didn’t want to lead the guy on.

I got home a little after eight o’clock that morning, exhausted. A couple of days later my boss needed me to fill in on another graveyard shift in Hollywood, this time at Taco Bell.

The one thing I hadn’t anticipated when becoming a security guard is how tediously boring it is, especially for a doer like myself. Just being a drive-thru and walk-up branch, this particular Taco Bell was located in a rather deserted area of Hollywood, which made the time go by twice as long.

The bad thing about such mundane work is that if something actually happens, your response time could be delayed by a few seconds, which in turn could mean a serious disadvantage, depending on the situation. Such a jolt back into reality is exactly what happened to me that night,

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With the help of a house-finding agency Mom ended up finding a two bedroom on Del Vina Street there in Pasadena. It was actually a three bedroom, but the owner kept one room locked up, saying it was his mother’s room and that she might occasionally stay there if need be. Well, we were desperate, so Mom agreed to such an odd situation. Fortunately, no one used the room during our four months there.

Meanwhile I wasn’t having much luck with the job search but had come across an attractive ad. ‘Earn $100 a day working part time as a bartender!’ It was an advertisement for The National Bartender School in Covina, about an hour and a half away by bus. After calling for more info I was on my way to the school.

The course offered was a two-week program, but you could actually take as long as you needed, with most people doing it in three to four weeks. The cost was seven hundred dollars, but you could enroll with just a hundred down. If you finished before the balance was paid they‟d keep your certificate until the bill was taken care of. Although I was nineteen and therefore couldn’t work in a bar, the law would allow me to work at parties since it was considered catering. So after going over everything I decided the venture would be worth it and handed over my last hundred from my radio station prize money.

I‟ve never done so much memorizing in my life! After each one-hour lecture, which included watching the instructor make drinks, we’d have our practice time. The classroom was set up like a real bar and all the bottles of alcohol were the same color as the real deal, which was achieved with food coloring. Each day we’d go over a different class of drinks. For example, one day might be crème drinks, (Grasshopper, Pink Lady, etc) while the next would be shooters. (Hot Fuck, Buttered Nimple, Blow Job - Yeah, I thought some of the names were interesting too!)

To help us remember the drinks we were taught helpful little sayings. Like with the drink Godfather, you’d think of a mob boss who Shoots the Assholes. The S in Shoots and the A in Assholes stands for Scotch and Amaretto. With the Godmother, she Visits the Assholes once they’ve been shot. V for vodka, A for Amaretto. So those little tricks really helped.

Everywhere I went I had my small box of index cards with me to study every chance I had. Not only did you need to know the ingredients of a drink, but you needed to know how it was prepared, what type of glass to use and if it was a drink that included a garnish. Here’s an example:

Margarita

A. Margarita glass, lime and salt the rim.

B. Mixing glass, ¼ full of ice

C. 1 oz. tequila

D. ½ oz. triple sec

E. 1½ oz. sweet and sour

F. Pour. Lime wheel garnish. Slide a small straw in on the side. If it’s frozen you do the same thing, only add and blend ice accordingly.

As I was studying my ass off Daniel and I were getting to know the neighborhood kids there on Del Vina Street. Most of them were girls, barely teens, who had come over to say hi. The two guys there were Kenny, a fifteen-year-old, and Daniel, the thirteen-year-old kid next door who had strict parents. Kenny and I started hanging out and soon we were like best friends. They all would spend a lot of their time around the corner at this guy’s house. A forty something year old named Steve. He was single but basically harmless, which I guess is why all the parents didn’t mind.

One of the girls was Justine, who looked older than she was. Although we weren’t that far off in age, I was nineteen, which made her jailbait, so I stopped the thought from going any further. But if you think about it, such a society standard sucked for someone like me. Here I was, nineteen and still holding out for someone special. But the average girl was known to start becoming ‘sexually active’ at around Justine’s age, which meant finding someone pure like myself who was over eighteen would prove to be quite difficult. All those horny teenage guys out there not appreciating the gift of purity they were being given, while me, the good ol’ patient boy, only had one dream. To find my forever love. But like I said, I wasn’t about to become a criminal. I was a law-abiding citizen and definitely not a pedophile. So although I knew Justine would probably follow in the footsteps of the overwhelming majority of modern female teens by experiencing heartbreak after heartbreak during those loss-of-innocence years, I’d just have to ignore such a tragic fact and hold out for a truly unique one who proved to be special and not some statistic.

Still promoting their second album, C.M.B. was scheduled to do an in-store signing at the Tower Records there in Pasadena. Of course I just had to go, and this would be the opportunity I needed to give Bryan his portrait. Also on that day the group would be taking part in a meet and greet dinner at the KIIS FM studios. Invitations to this small event could only be obtained by winning them on the air, so days before I had tried my best to be one of the lucky few. The problem was we didn’t have a phone at the house, so I spent a lot of time at a pay phone and at Steve’s house by his phone when I could.

The night before the big day I still hadn’t had any luck. The evening DJ, Domino, was the one promoting the contest, and I had called him every night asking for a break, but to no avail. On that last night I heard him on the air saying how he only had one invitation left, and that he’d be at the store signing the next day looking for the biggest C.M.B fan there to give the invitation to. So I called him once again, and by now he had remembered me.

I said, “Domino, all I ask is that you really do look for the biggest fan out there tomorrow. The one who spent all day waiting in line to ensure to be first. The one who’s not there to be a tantalizing sex pot, but rather a true supporter of C.M.B.’s great music. You’ll see me there at the front of the line wearing my custom-made C.M.B. jacket and holding a framed portrait of a nice piece of art work done of the lead singer, Bryan Abrams. My name is Rico and I’ll see you tomorrow”.

“Ok,” he replied. “We‟ll see.”

I had hired an artist in Hollywood to do the portrait. It cost me one hundred dollars but was well worth it in my eyes. I just wanted to give Bryan a small token of my appreciation for his great talent. There are countless recording artists out there, but to find one who truly reaches a place of truth when they sing is really rare. And Bryan had such a gift. So no, I wasn’t some hottie who liked the group for the fame. As Kate Hudson’s character was in Almost Famous, I was a ‘band-aid’, there purely for the music.

The following day I caught the first bus to where I needed to go, arriving at Tower Records at 5:30 a.m. All was cold and quiet, with not a soul around, the store still locked up from the night before. And so I took my place right by the entrance, staking my claim as the first person in line.

Around 7:30 the opening manager arrived. She seemed surprised and impressed that I had been out there since 5:30, as were the other employees as they arrived for work that morning. The meet and greet wasn’t scheduled until 6:00 p.m., so I’m lucky I had a strong bladder. That’s why if it’s at all possible, you should take someone along if you ever do something like this. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that option, so my drive is what kept me strong.

The first batch of people started lining up around noon, which meant I had about six hours on them. So if Domino turned out to be true to his word, I should have no problem proving I was the one who deserved that dinner invitation.

About five o’clock the man with the prized possession showed up. After watching him be approached by countless short skirts I managed to get his attention.

“Domino, it’s me, Rico. I told you, man. I told you I’d be the first in line! I’ve been here for eleven hours because I truly am the biggest fan. So did I earn that last invitation?”

More girls then started talking to him, and he told me to hang on. Shit, I thought to myself. Am I gonna lose out to another fad chaser again?! Just then the staff at Tower Records began to move the line into the store. I managed to get Domino’s attention one more time.

“Dude, I gotta go. They’re moving the line.”

He handed me an envelope and said, “Here, hold onto this for me. I’ll see you inside.”

As I entered the store I just knew the envelope contained the invitation, and I said a big YES! within. That sly Domino had me scared there for a minute, but he came through, and sure enough when I opened that envelope the paper inside said: You and a friend are cordially invited to have dinner with Color Me Badd at the KIIS FM Studios. I told myself to be sure to thank him the next time I saw him, then headed upstairs to see the guys.

And there they were, all seated behind a table ready to sign copies of their CD. Since it had only been a couple of months since the Arsenio meet they remembered me and asked how the rest of the family was doing. Bryan tripped out when I gave him the portrait, and either he was a great actor or he was genuinely into it.

“This is slammin’, man.! Thanks so much!”

We started talking a little bit, but since I was the first in line I was now beginning to hold it up and had to move along. I told the guys I’d be at the dinner, and they said, “Oh, cool man. We‟ll see you then.”

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I really think they appreciated the fact that I was sincerely into their music and not a fad chaser just looking to be part of their ‘in’ crowd.

As I left the store my brain started going a mile a minute since I had to figure out a way to actually get to and from the radio station. After such a long day I didn’t feel like being stuck in L.A. all night due to missing the last bus to Pasadena, but the only other thing I could think of

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PART THREE

FREEDOM

CHAPTER 16

Next Stop, Pasadena

A year in Riverside meant only one thing. It was time to move on. Mom had taken a few classes at a local community college and wanted to find a good school to continue with. After a little research she decided Pasadena would be a nice place to live, with plans of attending Pasadena City College that Fall. As for me, I still yearned for music, so kept that in the forefront of my mind.

Nothing had changed as far as Mom‟s moving style, so we were again calling a motel home. The Regal Inn on Colorado Boulevard. The five of us in one room was not a pretty sight, oftentimes a breeding ground for chaos. We went through our same old hardships, and the following month as I turned nineteen we found a place on the corner of California and Rosemead. It had once been a small convent, and again Mom had to convince the owner to take a chance on us. You’d think after all those years of promising such a thing that she would at least one time actually do it, but it never failed. We always left a place at odds with the owners because she hadn’t fulfilled her end of the agreement. If anything, it just reinforced my own beliefs of staying true to one’s word. And again I was so grateful that we were so different in nature.

The house had two storeys, with two and a half bedrooms upstairs. This place had a bachelors pad in the backyard too, but again the price was separate, so it just sat there unused. I took the half bedroom, which had an exit going out to the roof. The roof actually looked like a deck and was a nice place to look up at the stars.

Soon Mom was getting ready to start the Fall semester at PCC and I had decided to attend as well. At first I was going to take psychology, since I had done well in it, but on enrollment day I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Music was my passion, so I chose classes which supported such. Music Appreciation, Keyboarding, and African-American Music. Mom was upset to find out that I had changed my mind at the last minute, but I didn’t give a damn. I had to follow my heart.

A couple of weeks before the start of classes someone who worked with Marta Woodhull called me and asked if I would like to be a volunteer at a seminar she was doing in exchange for free entrance. Of course I accepted, and so I helped assist at the all-day event. It was nice to meet Marta, and she was as nice in person as she had been on the phone. Afterwards we said our goodbyes and how we would keep in touch so I could take vocal lessons from her later on when the timing was right.

During the Fall semester at PCC I enjoyed learning the fundamentals of music, as well as learning short little songs on the keyboard. My teacher said I was doing well, but I tended to play by ear more than following the music on the page. This is actually a good ability, but we were there to learn to READ music, so that was something I had to work on. As for African American music class, my favorite pieces we were exposed to were definitely the slave songs. Although the people of that time were under such unfortunate circumstances, the music that came out of it had a great soulful sound. A fusion of their African roots and the new suppressive environment they had to adapt to.

This knowledge never left me, and led me to writing the dramatic horror novella, The Mirrored Staircase, a decade later.

Because we were on the go a lot now, with me and Mom at PCC and the kids with their schooling, the cats began to come and go as they pleased as well. Getting to know the neighborhood, they never forgot where home was, especially when it came time for dinner. So when I realized I hadn’t seen Booma for a few days I started to get concerned. Mom and the kids hadn’t seen him either, so I decided to take a picture I had of him and went around to the neighbors asking if they’d seen him. No one had, and the whole thing just didn’t seem right. Not only did Booma know where he lived, but he knew who he belonged to, always coming to my room to sleep at night.

A couple of weeks later in the middle of the night Mom came to my room and woke me up. Before telling me why, she asked me to forgive her. She then told me that a few weeks before, she had found Booma in the back by the alley, dead! She said it looked like someone had hit him with a car and that his eyes were looking towards the house as if he had tried to make his way home. She hadn’t told me the truth because she knew how close I was to him, and then claimed that she kept seeing and hearing him at night. That he wouldn’t leave her alone until she told me what had happened.

Sounded like it was just her guilty conscious eating away at her, but being the person of truth I’ve always been I was just glad I now knew it. It was true that Booma and I were close, but although it was saddening I didn’t appreciate her keeping his death from me, and just told her that if anything ever happened like that again to just tell me. As I turned over to go back to sleep I then said a little farewell to Booma Tooma, which I say to every soul I know that leaves this life. “May peace be with you on your continuing journey~”

Although I was still cautious of the activities I did, my back was doing fine and I was basically back to my old normal self. The latest news from Stockton was that Chino had gotten married to a girl he met while working there in the produce department at Food 4 Less. They had just gone to the local court house for the ceremony and now he was a step dad. His new wife Leticia had two kids from a previous marriage. Alex, about four, and Jackie, about seven. Add to that a baby of their own due in a matter of weeks. It was hard to believe that I was actually going to be an uncle.

Meanwhile KIIS FM, L.A.’s most popular top 40 radio station, (who had my favorite disc jockey, Rick Dees) had a contest going on. Basically you had to call this toll-free number and leave your name, age, birth date and social security number. Monday through Friday the on-air DJ would play a recording of a person calling in from the computer’s database. If the person whose message was being played back heard it and called within thirty minutes they’d win the cash prize. The first name of the day at 7:10 a.m. was worth five-thousand dollars, and the names played at 11:10, 4:10 and 7:10 p.m. were worth a thousand each. And so I called in and left my info, then made sure to tune in religiously.

For the first couple of weeks, nothing. Then one day at 11:10 a.m. the recording of me saying my name was the one being played! I was upstairs alone in the bedroom and without saying anything to Mom, who was downstairs, I went in to her room to use the phone. Upon calling the station and verifying my info I was declared a winner!

After a few minutes of soaking it in and listening to the playback on the radio I went downstairs to where Mom was.

“I just won a thousand bucks.” I said calmly as if it weren’t real. She thought I was joking at first, but after I explained she was tripping out.

Up to that point, a thousand dollars was the most money I had ever had at one time. A couple of days later someone from the radio station called me with an invitation to go to Universal City Walk to be part of the group of winners to be interviewed for Good Day L.A., a local TV morning show. A few days later Daniel and I were headed to Tony Romas restaurant where the taping would be held. They had us sit down at the tables, and one by one briefly came around to each table and asked us what our plans were with our winnings. When they got to me I said I’d use the money towards my musical goals, which I did. I finally got a nice keyboard. Something I had wanted for many years.

After the brief TV interview Daniel and I had the rest of the day to ourselves, and since Universal Studios was right next door and I had a good amount of cash on me there was only one thing to do. After so many years of waiting I’d finally be able to ‘Live the Movies!’

The overall experience was great. From the Back to the Future ride to the impressive Backdraft attraction. Of course I couldn’t get enough of the behind-the-scenes attractions, including the backlot tram tour. But the main thing I looked forward to after all those years of waiting wasn’t offered. More than anything I wanted to watch an actual production being shot, so learning that such a thing is not normally offered, and even when it is it’s very brief, was a big letdown. So although I learned a few new things about movie magic, it would be later on down the road before I’d really become exposed to filmmaking.

On October 13th Chino’s son Eric was born. We couldn’t make it up to Stockton to see him in person, but through pictures we were amazed at how much father and son looked alike.

The next month in November we heard that things weren’t going well for the newlyweds, and that Chino had actually been put in jail for some reason. I’m not sure if it was due to a confrontation between the two, but at any rate Mom convinced Leticia to pack up the kids and come stay with us for a while. So a few days later we met the little addition to the family

We all really enjoyed having Eric around. For me, my favorite times with him were when we’d be alone up in the bedroom together while I rocked him to sleep. It gave me thoughts of what it would be like to have my own child. Like wanting to be married at a young age, I also wanted to be a father early on. But like the promise I had made to myself to wait for the right one, I would be responsible and patient, insisting not to have a kid until I was financially secure. There’s no way I’d make my child experience the terrible world of poverty like I had to endure. When he or she enters this world it’s not going to be because of an irresponsible act, but rather a planned joyful event, where everything they need to get a great start in this world will be provided to them.

On January 17th 1994 at 4:31 a.m. I woke up to the strongest earthquake I had ever experienced. Most of the previous ones I had felt were rolling and non’threatening, but this one was violent and seemed endless. Living in California you always hear about The Big One, and sitting up in bed early that morning I seriously thought this one could be it. The length of it really made it seem surreal, and after twenty long seconds it finally stopped. The kids then started to cry and we all checked to see if everyone was alright. Leticia and her kids had been sleeping downstairs, but the only thing that was damaged were some shelf ornaments that fell and broke. After calming down we all made our beds in Mom’s room and got a little more sleep.

A few hours later we woke to the latest news. The epicenter was in Northridge and the magnitude had been 6.7. The house was fine. In fact the only thing that was affected anywhere nearby was a cement wall located across the street, which had fallen apart.

When we went to the grocery store everyone was buying up water like it was the end of the world. Funny how people prepare for an event right after it’s over, as if it were going to repeat. When does that ever happen? And yet this is what’s done after every big event. An earthquake? Ok, now let’s buy the supplies. A terrorist attack or school shooting? Now let’s turn the area into Fort Knox.

A couple of weeks later Chino was out of jail and on his way to Pasadena. He, Leticia, and the kids stayed in the garage, which we had converted into a large room. Obviously the first few days were nice. A good „ol reunion. But when you live with Mom it’s only a matter of time before there’s conflict. And like I’ve already explained, there’s no logic with someone who is as negative as her. Pointing out her mistakes is like adding fuel to an already out of control fire.

Up to that point Leticia hadn’t seen the real Mom, but now she understood what Chino had tried to explain to her beforehand. After a couple of weeks of on and off fighting, which included a few shoving matches between her and Chino, the breaking point had come. It was already nighttime, but that didn’t stop the confrontation from heating up. Chino had Leticia and the kids pack, and with nowhere to go and on foot they left. He said anything was better than having his family ‘around that bitch’. A few weeks later I learned how they had went to go stay with a relative of Leticia’s, then went back up to Stockton. And to think there had been talk of us all getting a bigger and better place together. Yeah right!

With the beginning of 1994 Color Me Badd finally had their sophomore album Time and Chance released. By now everybody in the house liked C.M.B. because they had gotten used to me playing their first album so much. During the brief time Chino and his wife and kids were there at the house I had decided to get a tattoo. I thought C.M.B.’s entitled song Slow Motion Lover would be a cool thing to have, so my choice was to get that done on my upper right arm. (I know… I know... Here I was calling myself a Slow Motion Lover, when in actuality time was going in slow motion when it came to me really ever becoming one!)

The plan was to have Mom do the tattoo homemade since she had done it before. After hearing everyone’s opinion I thought I could handle it better than a tattoo gun. (Oops, I mean machine. Some people can be quite pompous in the tattoo world) So with the tip of a needle wrapped in thread and some India Ink, Mom began to poke away. For preparation I was willing to do just about anything. I wasn’t a drinker, smoker or drug user, but if something was going to help decrease the pain I was willing to do just a one night stand with it. The only thing we ended up getting access to was some weed and a 40 oz. bottle of Old English 800. Well, neither one really helped. The beer got me light-headed, and the marijuana just did what it had done back when I was a little kid. Got me real hungry. That was the last dance I ever had with Mary Jane.

The letters were in Old English and after the SLO and some of the M, which had taken a couple of hours, Mom’s hand got tired, as well as my nerves being tired of all the pain. We decided to continue later and that night I kept having dreams of mouth-watering food. The next day, after realizing it would probably take a couple of more days at the rate we were going as well as a lot more pain, I decided to hold off with finishing it. Well, the finishing never came and as of this writing I’m still just marked with SLO and three lines for the M below it. Yes, of course I regret it now, and someday may have the stain of temporary stupidity lasered off.

I had the habit of going through the TV Guide a few days in advance to see if and when C.M.B was scheduled to appear on television shows. Because of their new album they had quite a few appearances lined up, and one was for a performance on The Arsenio Hall Show. Since we were living there in the L.A. area now I wanted to go to the taping, so I called to find out the procedure. Since you had to line up early in the morning for tickets I had planned to go the night before to ensure a good seat. Jazmin had become a fan of the group’s music too, but she was only twelve, and since you had to be at least eighteen to attend a taping it didn'‘t seem possible to bring her along.

Mom decided to call the show and try to see if an exception could be made. She explained how Jazmin was developmentally delayed and how much of an affect the group had on her. The lady at the show’s office said she couldn’t promise anything, but would try to ask if arrangements could be made and that she’d probably get back to us in a day or two.

Five minutes later she called and said she had just spoken with Arsenio, and that he was inviting the whole family to come to the show, and afterwards have a private meet and greet with C.M.B! We were all ecstatic. I knew that if I kept pushing for it I’d one day meet this amazing quartet, and now thanks to Arsenio it was finally going to happen!

Five VIP seats had been taped off for us at the studio, and we were escorted in before the rest of the audience filed in.

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As with most of the chapters in my life, a little desired romance was bound to creep in while there in Riverside. Believe me, it’s not like I went out looking for it. The potential just always seemed to find me. Unfortunately I couldn’t shake the shyness that had plagued me since childhood. I knew once I would be in a relationship I wouldn’t have any problems communicating but getting past that initial stage of courtship always proved to be my downfall.

Towards the end of 1992 I happen to be outside one afternoon while the mail lady was delivering on our street. As she approached our mailbox in her little mail jeep her beauty caught my eye. Struck by cupid’s arrow, I made sure I was out there at the same time the following day. And there she was again, looking so attractive in her postal uniform. After a few days of peering from a distance I took out Mom’s outgoing mail in person, acting as though I had made it just in time. A sweet hello came from that beautiful smile, and then we exchanged mail.

I soon began retrieving the mail in person on a daily basis. Thinking back on it now, I must have been so damn obvious. But how I enjoyed such momentary bliss. It was like looking at a painting of a beauty from long ago, only she was alive and right there in front of me.

Her name was Renee and she was of Caucasian descent. I would never want to offend her by guessing the wrong age, but I think it would be safe to say she was in her late twenties to early thirties. Even if she happened to be older, I couldn’t care less about her age. So what about that special princess of purity I had been holding out for? Well, if Renee turned out to be my destiny, then let it be.

By the beginning of 1993 a month or so had passed of my ‘school boy crush’. At least that’s what Renee thought of it. An infatuation to be flattered by, but nothing more. How did I know? Did she tell me in person? No, it was always a friendly smile and hello, that’s it. Mom had picked up on her point of view after briefly talking to her on other matters. It was one of the few days I didn’t come out to retrieve the mail, so Renee asked about me. Perhaps she was just giving off such a vibe because she didn’t want Mom thinking she was some kind of cradle robber. I wasn’t sure what to think of it, but since she hadn’t dismissed me in person I kept hope alive.

When Valentine’s Day rolled around I couldn’t hold back any longer. My back surgery was a month away and who knew how long I’d be incapacitated, so I decided to go for broke.

First I went to Tyler Mall to look for something romantic but subtle. Finally I decided on a crystal shelf ornament of a humming bird feeding from a flower. Adding to that a box of Godiva chocolate, I then sat down with the ol’ pen and paper to share my inner voice. I told Renee that despite our age difference I was an adult and the feelings I had for her were not ‘school boyish’ or meaningless infatuation. That everything in my heart was true, and if she was a woman who appreciated such a person, then maybe we could explore things further. I informed her that I had a major surgery coming up and felt the need to get things off my chest just in case something unplanned were to happen to me.

Given my love for music, I also made her a tape with some songs that helped express my feelings. Among the songs were a few from a great Surface album I had, including one which fit so well with our situation. Closer than Friends, with lyrics like:

It’s hard to explain

When you’re close to me

I get this warm sensation inside

I can’t deny this

I want to try it

Each and every time you come by Girl,

I don’t wanna lose your love

By putting my cards on the table,

You know I’m thankful,

For what we have

But I have feelings inside

They’re so strong I can’t hide

Here, have a listen…

So with her gift in hand, this foolish heart ignored its rapid beating and gave Renee her gift after she handed me the mail.

“This is for you. Just a little something for Valentine’s Day”.

With that captivating smile and her head tilted to the side, she thanked me. The ball was now in her court.

A few days later, around the same time as Renee’s mail delivery, a knock came at the door. You see, after handing off my intimate feelings in that Valentine’s gift the chicken shit side of me kept me in the house for a few days, hoping that Renee would leave some kind of reply in the mailbox. (Of course the hoping was for a positive reply.) From my bedroom I heard Mom answer the door. It was Renee!

I couldn’t make out what she had said, but after the door shut Mom came to my room and gave me a small gift wrapped in purple wrapping. Wow, this was definitely a positive sign!

Inside was a

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Before heading back to school for my senior year I did end up making some memorable discoveries that summer. One was the inspiring life story of a man who had turned his five and dime store into the world’s biggest department store empire.

I‟ve always loved learning about titans of wealth and how they got to where they were. Rockefeller. Gates. Branson. Etc. Such tycoon stories always inspired me, and I had always dreamed of such luxury. In fact, one of my favorite TV shows while growing up was The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. For Mom, it was something to despise since they had it and she didn’t. For me, it was something to learn from, and to work hard/smart for so I too could one day achieve it.

Sam Walton’s autobiography definitely stirred the drive within me. After reading how he achieved such greatness for his company WalMart, I really wanted to work for the business giant, and so I set out to find the nearest one. Unfortunately the closest store was a couple of towns away, which turned out to be quite the distance considering the size of The Inland Empire. (The area used to describe the main two regions of Riverside and San Bernardino counties) I wasn’t about to let that deter me though. At least not until I knew if there would be a way to work out the logistics.

So off I was on another inner-city bus to find the store whose founder had inspired me so. After riding the bus as far as I could I walked for two hours out in the middle of nowhere before I finally reached my destination. I then figured out some logistics in my head, seeing if it would be at all possible to work there while still finishing my last year of school. What if I bought a pair of roller skates or a bike to cover the long distance? I went over it again and again, but there was just no way I could have pulled it off with the limited resources I had available to me. If only the bus schedule wasn’t so rigid. Then I’d be able to make it work. Damn! Well, I was here now, so I should at least go in and admire Sam’s work as well as helping a tiny bit by buying a snack there with the couple of extra bucks I had. Sure, I was only helping move a couple of items of merchandise, but to me, at least I was a part of something special.

I realize that to most this probably sounds crazy, travelling so far just to see if I had a chance to work at a department store, but this very nature is exactly what separates the especially driven from the ordinary. And although it sometimes means going through hell to accomplish a small task, I wouldn’t change it for the world, because one needs such drive and ambition to achieve great things.

Another book I read that summer was Marta Woodhull’s Singing for a Living. A very informative book for those looking to start a singing career. Still having the dream of being a singer, I felt like I needed intense vocal lessons since I didn’t sound like Bryan Abrams yet. Besides my vocal coach Pat in Minneapolis, I had never sung for anyone before, especially family members. I thought I was still capable of reaching my goal someday, but had no intention on faking an ability I had yet to possess.

With nothing to offer but myself, I wrote Marta asking her if she needed a live-in housekeeper. Being an excellent cleaner and a pretty good cook of basic meals I offered my services in exchange for room and board and vocal lessons.

About a week or two later she actually called me. She said she didn’t need a housekeeper, but perhaps we could arrange something later. (I had mentioned in the letter having to have back surgery before I would be available.) She told me she had been really impressed with my letter, (this should have been a clue to me that my sights should have been set on becoming an author) and to definitely keep in touch. I really appreciated the fact that she took the time to reply. Many in the entertainment industry don’t, and I will never forget the kindness she showed me by simply having the ability to recognize someone unique and replying to them. Not thinking she was above such a thing. It meant a lot.

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Payday was nearing, which meant we’d soon be on our way to Riverside. Being back in Stockton, Chino decided he wanted to stay, so there went our plans of getting a place together. We now had to rent a car to go the rest of the way. Meanwhile I had learned that C.M.B would be performing at the Stockton fairgrounds within days of us leaving. Unfortunately, it ended up being a few days after our departure, so I’d have to see them later.

Saying goodbye to Chino proved hard for all of us, including him. Who knew if the six of us would ever be together as a dysfunctional family again. He didn’t have anywhere to keep Holmes, so we brought him along with the other cats and headed down south.

Chapter 15

The Last of High School,

A New Flame,

& The Flesh On Fire

Riverside looked and sometimes felt like a desert town. As usual, we didn’t have any place to go but a motel, so we found one and Mom started looking through the classifieds. After going over the finances she surprised us by asking if we’d like to go to Disneyland before returning the car. Of course we were all for it, and of course we’d have to keep it a secret, not letting it be known to anyone back in Stockton, as well as anyone else we might meet. After all, if Mom had to ask others for financial help/assistance later, Disneyland certainly sounds like a splurge.

Eight years after experiencing the magical kingdom we were finally back to do it again. Only for Jazmin and Jesse this was their first time. Last time Jaz had been in the hospital going through some hell and Jess had been in Mom’s uterus.

We started off going on some attractions together. Pirates of the Caribbean, The Haunted Mansion, The Safari. Then Daniel and I headed off by ourselves for the coasters. We were now old enough to really enjoy Space Mountain, unlike last time when we nearly slipped from Mom’s grasp and came so close to becoming space junk.

After an exhausting day of fun Mom had a headache and still had that drive to make back to Riverside. Once we found the car and tried starting it up we discovered that the battery was dead. Fortunately, some good samaritans had some jumper cables and we were on our way. So what about the other scary incident we had on Space Mountain? That’s a later time.

Due to our fun-filled day at Disneyland, the rest of our meals for that month was full of bologna sandwiches and chips. I tried to get a job, but since Riverside is a relatively small place such a goal can prove to be rather difficult.

Once again convincing a set of home owners that she could handle the rent, Mom found us a house on the end of Dawes Street, with a juvenile hall center being right across the fence. The house was relatively nice. Three bedrooms, with a space that could be converted into a fourth, two bathrooms, an attic that we never really used because it had never been properly restored, a garage that looked like a barn, which we also never used since we didn’t have a car, and a descent sized front and backyard. There was one other addition to the house that was located in the backyard. A studio-type apartment. I really wished I could have stayed there, especially since I had lost the last one out to Chino, but the owners said we’d have to pay three hundred dollars more a month for it, so it ended up just collecting dust the whole time we were there. Booma and I settled for the bedroom nearest the back of the house, while Jesse and Jazmin got the next one over. Daniel got the converted one and Mom got the one upstairs.

That summer before school I turned eighteen. More than anything, it was just an odd feeling knowing that I no longer had to be attached to Mom’s warped strings. If you would have asked me years earlier if I would have been packed and ready to run at the minute of adulthood I would have said, “Hell Yes!” But since then I had come into my own anyway, and of course no longer put up with physical abuse for myself and my siblings. And because I had the back surgery coming up, as well as one year of school left, I decided living amongst Mom’s negativity for a little while longer would be something I could put up with.

The remaining summer was relatively boring, but it didn’t stop my driven nature from coming forth. Now that we were somewhat near L.A., I decided I’d plan a trip to Giant Records to seek C.M.B’s tour schedule in person. Daniel and I had gotten used to hanging out together, so I took him with me.

It took us quite a few hours and numerous bus rides to reach Beverly Hills, the location of the record label. After getting off the last bus we had to walk for about an hour before we got to Wilshire Blvd. The walk wasn’t that bad though, seeing all those mansions on the way.

Finally arriving at the label, we found it odd that no one was on the ground floor lobby, not even a security guard. We went up to the floor the suite was located on and walked into the office of Giant Records, but no one was there either. The whole situation began to feel more and more like a Twilight Zone episode. Calling out for someone, anyone, we proceeded to walk back into their offices.

Still no one.

Had everyone in the building been killed?!

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CHAPTER 14

A Dysfunctional Road Trip,

Faces From A Simpler Time,

& Parting Ways

Still holding tight to the lie of having an Indian background, Mom said we had to stop over in Lamedeer, Montana for a few days. A small Indian reservation where some of our supposed relatives lived.

Mom had written a couple of people in the past there on the reservation who shared the same last name as the one she had purgefied for the past few years, in hopes of establishing some bullshit kin. One was a woman who believed Mom’s fictitious claims and wrote her back. After all, these were simple people who weren’t used to outsiders coming in acting like they were relatives.

For a reason I’m not sure of, when we rolled into Lamedeer we couldn’t stay with the woman and ended up staying with an elderly woman who somehow came into the picture. Mom called her Grandma Norma, and she was an old lady who had quite a thing for the country artist, George Strait. It was sad to see Mom manipulating these people, but since we’d only be there for a few days Chino and I bit our tongues.

I believe the woman Mom had written somehow sensed that she had been duped, because we hardly saw her while we were there. Seemed she always had an excuse why she couldn’t stop by. Gee, could Mom’s strongly distinct Caucasian features have given her away? With the combination of that and the absolutely pathetic accent she was trying to pass off, it’s surprising the whole tribe didn’t get together and toss our asses off their land!

After a few days of playing pool at the local diner I liked to call The Chicken Coop Chino and I were happy to be getting back on the road. No offense to that simple way of living, it’s just that we were city boys and therefore could only handle so much of being on ‘Indian Time,’ I sure did enjoy the fried bread though!

Next stop, Billings, where we’d just stay the night. Chino had decided he wanted to shave his head and did so during the stay over. Only after the fact did it occur to me that I should have asked to give him a haircut beforehand. When would I ever again have the chance to see if I were any good at it? Lesson here? Learn to see opportunity when it’s in front of you.

The long trip ended up taking six tedious days. Of course being the budget deficit queen she was, Mom soon ran into money problems. Chino and I had both given her a significant amount at the start of the trip to help out, but finances were bound to get screwed up anyway. Obviously we were the two who had to be turned to at first. I was especially upset because my savings included my first ever tax return of around $500. I had planned to do something special with it like further my pursuit of music, and just shook my head in mourning when her bullshit promise of paying me back spilt forth. This was Mom we were talking about, who through her actions believed that just because time passed it somehow erased debt. This is another thing on the infinite list we prove to be opposites in. Whenever I borrow money from someone I make absolutely certain it‟s paid back. It may take time, but there’s one thing the loaner can rest assured on, and that‟s the fact that they‟ll get their money back. As for getting my money back, I knew Id never see it again, and indeed that turned out to be the case.

After emptying me and Chinos pockets, Grandma had to be called for help. We were headed her way anyway, with plans to move on to Riverside the following month. Chino and I had made plans to get an apartment together after my surgery. An idea I really looked forward to. Meanwhile, we continued on to Stockton.

It had been about two and a half years since we had last seen the family in Stockton. Loyd, our step-grandfather, hated having us around and despised Mom entirely, although hed put a little effort into hiding it. He had always been overweight and a heavy smoker, and now that he was retired from bus driving he had become worse. He spent most of his time sitting at the dining room table with his cigarette hand close to the air purifier since Grandma was a non-smoker. This is where hed eat, pass gas and complain/give his piss-poor advice on everything under the sun. (Many times doing it all at the same time) All from sitting there on his dining room throne.

Grandma and Loyd didnt want the cats in the house, so we had to keep them tied under a tree in the front yard during the day and in Chino’s car at night. They didn’t like it that much, especially since they had been house cats, but there was no other options.

Grandma told us she had recently received a phone call from someone from our past, and if possible, they wanted to see me and Daniel. It was Sandra and Dow, who were still living in the same house in Ceres. It had been eight and a half years since Daniel and I had last seen them, and we were thrilled with the idea of seeing them again.

We called them, and within a couple of days they were taking the two hour drive to Stockton to see us. Man was it surreal seeing them after so much time and experiences had passed. Sandra came bearing potato candy and Dow seemed to be the one who had most drastically changed. He was still working at the Rainbow Bread Factory. Still on the line, and boy had it aged him! He had developed problems with his hands and no longer looked liked the towering father-figured we once knew him to be. It was saddening, but at least he was still fighting on.

Our afternoon of reuniting went well, and before it was over we all decided that Daniel and I would return with them to Ceres for a week or so to catch up on old times.

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I had recently seen an orthopedic specialist because my back had started to ache more than usual. After some x-rays and examinations, I was diagnosed with Kyphosis. This is when the spine curves forward, not to the side like Scoliosis. It was determined that the best thing would be for me to have a surgery, otherwise as the years would progress, so would the curving of my spine, which in turn would run the risk of putting pressure on my lungs. So much so that it would affect my breathing. So the doctors said I should have the surgery in the near future, while my body was still young and strong. Man, first my left eye, and now this?! What kind of karma was I living out? But being the doer I was I said, “Fine, let’s get it done with.”

It was nearing a year since we had moved to Minnesota, so naturally Mom was getting antsy. After looking into it she said I should have my surgery in L.A. at the famed Shriners Hospital. Not only did they have great doctors there, but the medical costs would be taken care of as well. After considering my options I actually agreed, and soon we were planning the move back to California. Mom wasn’t keen about returning to the L.A. area, so she decided on Riverside, about sixty miles or so away.

Meanwhile, Melinda’s flirtations had kept up and one night while sitting together at a park bench at Minnehaha Falls with no one around she decided to take her seduction up a few levels.

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After a few weeks Chino had enough for his car, and not liking the fast food life, quit BK and went back to only working at the grocery store. Because he didn’t have a license, as well as it needing a couple of parts, he just kept the car parked at the back of the house for the meantime.

As for me, I kept fighting my attraction towards Stephanie, but found it harder and harder to do so as time went by. I knew I’d probably never talk to her about my feelings due to the fear of rejection, so I had to get away. Find another job. That and the fact that although management wanted to promote me to a shift manager they wouldn’t since I wasn’t eighteen yet. So I started looking for another job, and soon found a nice opportunity through one of the girls in my business class. She had recently been hired at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport by Host Marriott, the food and beverage company, and told me they were still looking for people.

Fortunately, the bus I needed to take to the airport passed right in front of our house and was only like a twenty-minute ride. So I was soon hired by Host Marriott, and along with turning in my BK cap and shirt, said a silent farewell to my Snow White.

I really liked working at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport. I enjoyed being around people on the go, and a great benefit came along with the job. A free meal ticket!

Every week we’d get this punch card that allowed us to eat twice a day at any food place in the airport. Each meal had to be valued at five dollars or below, which was fine since most fast food combo meals were indeed below that price. 99% of the time I’d eat at the BK there since I had grown accustomed to the food. Back at the previous BK, the best deal we got was a discount. Now I had free food, which even meant being able to have a delicious slice of cherry pie with my meal.

The girl who had referred me to Host Marriott had only ended up working there for a couple of weeks. When I first started she introduced me to Melinda, a Caucasian girl who worked at Gate 11. Soon she and I were the ones who became hanging out buddies, often eating together before work.

I’d sometimes hear about celebrities coming through the airport. One evening, Christian Slater’s then girlfriend was flying out of Gate 10, my gate, so he was there to see her off. (This was nearly ten years before 9/11, when you could still go to the gates even if you weren’t flying out).

They kept a low profile while sitting in the snack bar area, and Christian’s girlfriend approached me to buy some food. The total came to a little over four bucks and she paid me with a five. After I gave her the change she claimed she had paid with a twenty, but I was sure she hadn’t.

She started to get bitchy with me and turned to where Christian was seated. “Hun, how much did you give me?”

He didn’t quite hear her at first, so she asked again. “How much did you give me to pay?!”

He then held up five fingers. Without so much as an acknowledgement of being wrong, she just picked up her items and left.

Later, once they had left and I went over to clean their table, a five-dollar bill was sitting there waiting for me. The girlfriend had been the one with the oversized ego, while the real celebrity proved to be down to earth and kind, graciously leaving a tip for his girlfriend’s mistake.

A few minutes later, after having parted with her at the gate, Christian passed the snack bar and glanced in, putting up a friendly hand gesture to me as he did so. He had showed true character that evening, and I’ve been happy to support his work ever since.

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Having become a huge fan of Color Me Badd’s music, I really wanted to see them in person. I called their record label in L.A., Giant Records, and the woman who took care of their scheduling was really nice in giving me their tour info. Since they were relatively new they didn’t headline many of their own concerts, and some of their dates were unclear. They were starting to open for Paula Abdul, and although she was scheduled to come through Minneapolis it wasn’t guaranteed that C.M.B would be accompanying her. I decided to risk it and go ahead and buy a ticket to the show, but then found out that the tickets had already been selling. So I searched the newspapers and the closest seat I could find was in the thirteenth row.

Fortunately they ended up being Paula’s opening act in Minneapolis. I took an extra hundred bucks to the concert hoping I could bribe security to let me go back stage to meet them, but as I looked around and saw how strict they looked I chickened out. Back then I was still pretty shy with some things, and didn’t want to risk the possibility of being thrown out.

It was a surreal moment when those guys came out on stage. I was always listening to them on my walkman, and now there they were, thirteen rows in front of me with their perfect harmony.

I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be so close yet so far to someone who inspires you. When all you want is to have a few minutes of their time, but since you’re not a groupie with a hiked-up skirt you don’t have a chance in hell. Not to say Mark, Bryan, Kevin and Sam were these types of guys, but there are people whose job is to stand between you and the talent. Of course these people are needed, but if many are going to grant special privilege to the hotties, it would be nice to show some kindness to someone who’s there purely for the music. It’s those types of people that are going to be around for an artist’s entire career, not a fad chaser.

So anyway, I walked away from that concert inspired but unfulfilled. That inspiration got me thinking how much I’ve always loved music, and how amazing it would be to actually be a singer. So with the goal of wanting to be the next Bryan Abrams, I sought out a vocal coach.

I ended up coming across a woman named Pat who had an opera background. During our initial meeting I found out that she knew of C.M.B, and after telling her my aspirations she enlightened me that a good singer can sing any genre. She really seemed legit with her long-listed resume, so I began lessons with her at thirty dollars an hour. Yeah, pretty pricey, especially for a teenager, but I wanted to be a singer more than anything, so I went to my lessons twice a week. We’d mainly go up and down the scale of the piano, as I was to try to match the sound I heard. I looked forward to the day I could start singing C.M.B songs!

Back at BK I couldn’t suppress the hopeless romantic in me and started to develop an attraction towards one of the shift managers there, Stephanie. She was a sweet looking nineteen-year-old Caucasian girl who I thought just might be the type of girl I had been holding out for.

She was about two or three years older than me and already out of high school, so this didn’t help my confidence level. I’d mostly admire from afar, making sure none of it showed. Sometimes the whole closing crew would go out after work to an all-night bowling alley, then go eat breakfast at dawn before going home to sleep.

I tried getting to know her better with a question here, a comment there, but I know it must have been so subtle that it probably came across as everyday chit-chat. I did learn one thing about her. She had a major crush on Michael J. Fox, and even had a puck from a celebrity hockey game he had played in.

This wasn’t encouraging though, because I looked nothing like him. Ironically, his wife looks like she could be Stephanie’s sister!

Since the vocal lessons started making quite a dent in my cash flow I decided to take on additional work. A part time job as an usher for Simms security. We normally got to choose which events we wanted to work, and due to my already busy schedule I chose the football games at The Metrodome. The first couple were college games, then came an NFL Monday Night Football Game. I had the opportunity to obtain a complimentary ticket and I knew just who I wanted to give it to. The one who had always been the big football fan in our family…

Chino.

He was real excited for the game and couldn’t believe he was there in person. I really wished the Cowboys would have been scheduled to play, because that’s his life-long team, but he was pretty impressed with The Bears nonetheless. “Look, three'‘s The Frig. And Ditka!”

I was happy for him.

Simms Security covered concerts as well, and I’ll never forget the reaction of the employees back at the main office when it was announced that some band nobody ever heard of would be having a concert in a couple of weeks.

“Red Hot Chili Peppers?” they asked. “Who’s that?”

I didn’t sign up for it because of my other job, but looking back on it now, of course I wish I would have. But yeah, I think it’s great how far the Chili Peppers have come. They’re truly amazing.

The only other pro football game I worked was one every employee was needed for due to its size. Yep, the 1992 Super Bowl was there in Minneapolis. This was one event I couldn’t get a ticket for. Sorry bro.

All employees had to arrive early that morning, and after an hour long meeting we were assigned our areas. Although the game had a lot of celebrities in attendance, the only one I saw besides the beautiful half-time talent, Gloria Estefan, was Muhammad Ali. Parkinson’s had already taken quite a toll on him

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