Up Against It

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

Ain’t this some shit. It’s 1:30 in the morning and instead of being home in my own bed (cozy sleeping I might add) probably in a dream state of mind. I found myself walking on 61st and International in East Oakland. Of all places East Oakland. Man this shit is fucked up. My friend Reggie, got robbed out here a week ago at gun point. He was checking out one of his co-workers on 77th and MacAuthur. He got a little tipsy if you know what I mean. He was walking to the bus stop because his car is in the shop. Now some youngster in one of those hoodies that zip all the way up so you cant see his face (Lord knows who invented those) creeps up on him, and tells him, and I both Run it in brah with a 44 magnum pointed at his face. Shit the gun was bigger than dude who pulled it. Reggie damn near shit on himself, and gives the youngsta everything, but his clothes. Well not me I ain’t coming out of a damn thing. I may not be from that area, but I was raised in Berkeley where I’m headed now. I do like to roam in east Oakland also. I know the get down, but I had to see Cornisha. That nice booty, big titty, fine looking ghetto ass sister named Cornisha. What the fuck kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like a new bird, or a car without the last letter being an A. well she lives off of 82nd and International so I caught the 82 bus. Why, I don’t have a car at the time. I’ll share that later.

Now when I first see her residence I was like Aww-shit a crack house, but once inside it was nice. She was down to earth with a tan skeem going on. She had a four piece couch set, a 38 inch plasma screen with a marble coffee table. Sister had some style so I sat down choppin’ it up about what we want to do with our lives when I hear a baby crying. Cornisha excuses herself. It’s not unusual for a 24 year old woman to have a child so I wasn’t surprised. She came back, and told me that was Lil Twan. I said to myself, where’s big Twan at.

We continued our conversation since I felt that Playa instinct in me could surpass Little Twizzy, big Twizzy, and who ever.

We was into it when her phone rings. She picks it up, says hello, and quickly hangs up, and says wrong number. Wrong number my ass I say to myself. So we began to talk again, only this time we’re inches apart. My arm now is around her shoulder. Then her phone rings, rings, rings, and rings. Until I ask her are you gonna get that?

So she gets mad and answers it. All of a sudden there was a knock at the door, and someone yelling on the phone. I can’t understand what’s being said. All Cornisha is doing is looking scared as fuck at the door. Me and my big mouth says Ain’t you going to answer that? She looks at me as if I asked her to let the devil slap the shit out of her. She don’t say a damn thing, but gets up, and walks toward the door, and says Who is it? All you hear is a deep voice like it’s Lurch on the Adams Family Show hollering on the other side of the door saying, Bitch you know who this is. Let me in. Cornisha looks at me with that you asked for it look on her face, and opens the door. In comes what I presume is big Twan, and three other brothers like they came straight out of the Raiders locker room. Big yet sorry looking.

Now Twan takes one look at me, and starts muggin a brother like I’m an old Denver Bronco fan, or something. I ain’t no sucka so I stand up, and stick my hand out, and say, What’s up Bra. I’m Spicy. This Debo, looking dude doesn’t say shit to me, but turns, and looks at Cornisha. He says I didn’t know you was into suck-ass-niggas. Nisha, and while yall down here closer than fish to water, is my son taken care of? Cornisha’s ghetto side comes alive as she says, D, why you all in my business? You know I take care of Lil Twan. Something you can hardly say. I’m trying to have company here as you can see so could you hurry up, and bounce please. Twan goes ape shit. Shut the hell up. I signaled with my hand since like I said I ain’t no sucka. I then said, say man do you mind not disrespecting me, and the sister?"

Me, and my big mouth with my stupid ass ends it with could you keep it down so you don’t wake up your son? Oh you can put your last dollar on Twan being furious.

Sucker who da fuck is you? As a matter of fact I don’t give a fuck, your time is up, and you need to bounce.

It was my turn to get a little angry. Man I ain’t going nowhere unless Cornisha want me to. The nigga must have turned red with furry and he pulled out his new 40 caliber gun, and pointed it at me. I all of a sudden felt the urge to bounce.

"Nigga you got about fifteen seconds to get your shit before you cut out. Or you getting ready to get real close to my man forty, and I ain’t talking about the rapper. Shit I was out of that house in five seconds. It would have been three if I didn’t damn near fall leaving the house. So here I am now approaching 43rd and International on foot, because the buses isn’t running this late. Oh yeah, by the way I’m Mike, Green, or Spicy, Mike. This is how I live in the Bay Area if you call this living. I was born and raised by my parents who also raised my brothers, and sisters. I’ve gotten into my share of fights, and had my share of wins and losses, but sometimes I always found myself on the short end of the stick in a lot of situations. Like one time after one of the basketball games the opposing team Oakland Tech’s fans started getting a little bit rowdy outside the school all hell broke loose. It was like Brave Heart out there, but I wasn’t about to be no William Wallace. Hold on I’m on 36th and International now and I see somebody creeping up the sidewalk in a hoodie under a trench coat. Oh! False alarm it’s only a crack head, but I must keep my eye on them too.

Back to what I was saying. It was pandemonium outside of Fremont High School and Oakland Tech was getting their ass beat. I saw people being thrown into cars, out of cars. This one guy was getting stomped out by ten people.

The shit was crazy. It all finally ended and everybody started really dippin’ (moving in a car) out. When they seen, or heard police with sirens rolling up. I headed on in you feel me. I had lost my main man Tony who lived a block away from me and was by myself. Then I seen a crowd of like six or seven people shooting dice on the corner so I kindly stepped to the side of one of them who shouts out Yo Bra didn’t I see you at the school. Yeah, yeah now I remember you was that one fool who wasn’t doing shit. All seven of them looked at me at once, the one who said something to me ran up and before he could do anything I gave him a right hook and a quick left jab and a right hand and he was on the ground. As I turned to run three other dudes caught my jacket. (Damn that leather jacket) They pulled me to the ground and beat the shit out of me. Ain’t that some shit. I get my ass whooped for not fighting with the other school. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fight I just felt it wasn’t my fight. Well they had a different point of view and expressed it physically. I limped away with a swollen eye, a busted lip and about five knots. Three on my head and two on my legs. After that incident I made sure you could see me in every school fight from then on out.

Finally I find an all night gas station open. Thank you Lord. Now this damn Asian dude is watching me like I fit the description of somebody off America’s Most Wanted and he was ready to give one of those anonymous tips ya feel me.

Shit! All I want is some bottle water to rinse the blood lip taste out my mouth. Beside that a pack of Lay’s Sour Cream and Cheddar chips and some tropical Skittles. Is that too much to ask.

The dude was behind a 10 inch bullet-proof glass window and who did he expect to enter his store Tom Hanks. Man that reminds me of some fucked up shit that happened to me when I was in the 7th grade at Roosevelt Junior High School near San Antonio Park in Oakland.

The summer job I had was a waiter and this particular white dude (who looked like Tom Hanks, in cast-away since) started flashing on me about how the clam chowder was cold and his garlic bread was harder than a brick. What really gets me mad is when he starts telling my manager that I spit in the food and I had been rude to him. That did it. I was yelling at him in his face and telling my boss he probably didn’t have the money to pay for his food and was trying to get a free meal. Now he get mad and decides he wants to push me. Big mistake.

I was on him like white on rice, left, right, left hook, right jab, hay maker, but dude wasn’t no slouch and hit me in the kidney and kicked me hard in my balls so hard I think I blacked out, because when I came to and looked around the police was grabbing me, handcuffing me and telling me. I have the right to remain silent which I exercised to the fullest. As they escorted me outside where I seen Cast Away telling the police what happened, yes he was snitching like a professional. So they drive me down to the police station and book me in talking about GBI (Great bodily injury) and some other shit. This one fine ass lady cop was nice to me and asked me what happened and like mark I said it was self defense like she had more than eye balls for the young playa in me she was talking to. She said if the self defense is true and your boss says you was pushed then the guy wouldn’t probably show up at court tomorrow and the case will be dropped. She gave me a smile as if to stop the pain in my balls. I was a young buck just trying to find a way in society. Why is this happening to me I don’t know. I was baptized while I was in Elementary School. I had second thoughts about being saved by the blood of Christ. What do you want me to do when this shit is fucked up. My calls were made and my people were pissed off. Well the time came around when I was taken to court with a couple of people. We all had to see the Maniciple court Judge. At first it was just me and a few others then all of a sudden people wearing sad, or happy faces came into the holding tank. Some people stood up while others sat down.

I was surprised when a few people laid out on the floor and went to sleep like the concrete floor was a mixture of cotton and silk. I thought I was going to be in and out within three hours at the most, but as the day wore on it went from 8:00 am to 12:00, then from 12:00 to 2:00 pm and some of the inmates explained to me that it was lunch time for the DA and nobody would be getting seen until 3:00pm.

Damn! They gave us our lunches and a big light skinned dude tried to say I had his lunch. He must of thought I was some chump or something.

Anyway I said to him, Nigga your lunch is in your hand, so listen bra. I’m tired, hungry and not in the fuckin’ mood for your tough guy bullshit so if you don’t knock me out and kill me then you should get the fuck out my face! He looked kind of startled that I had actually flashed on him. It’s good lil Bra I was just playing with you."

After what seemed like six hours a County Sheriff came in and called everybody out. I was pissed off. What the fuck! I didn’t even see the damn judge. The sheriff looked at me like I was out of my mind. What’s your name? he says while I look at him and say my alias name! He looks at his paperwork and back at me and then says your going to Santa Rita where you’ll probably be released so step out and get on the elevator. Once in Santa Rita it was a strip search and fingerprints, temporary phones and the nurse screening on everything from your health as a baby up until now. People had body odor problems and some more shit! They even argued over floor spots.

I vowed never to come back to jail again.

Finally I’m out of the dubs and now in Funk Town.

What the hell is 5.0 doing creeping down the block.

Oh! I think they’re on ABOP (Anybody out patrol).

Aww shit they saw me. Damn! Here they come.

Now why they got to shine that damn stadium light on me.

Hey you! (Wow what a coincidence) What are you doing out here this time of night? (None of your damn business) Coming from a friend’s house! The black officer actually says you look familiar. (Ain’t that a bitch, I know this Nigga don’t know me). Actually this is my first time around here!

I’m lying to the police now knowing he lied on me.

What’s your name boy. Boy! Now I know that was the white man’s voice. Aww shit they’re getting out the car.

"Your name boy, what is it? I’m out to beat the Mr. White supremacist ass right now if he don’t stop calling me boy.

I gave them my spill as they moved towards me. I noticed how big and fat these Pigs are. Put your hands where I can see them. What the fuck is wrong with these fools. They’re out here now illegally searching me and shit. Phew! I’m glad I left my weed and money at home. The white cop tries to restrain me a little. Keep your hands in the air. They mug me, but at least he didn’t call me boy. One more of those and I would be forced to retaliate. What is this all about officer? He turns me around after he sees I ain’t got nothing. There was a call about a disturbance in the area. (Now that’s grade A bullshit for ya) Where did you get all this money?

"Wow! Fifty dollars is a lot of money. Where am I, Idaho. I have a check stub to go with it in my wallet.

Even though I said it nonchalantly I was pissed that this was actually happening. I don’t believe him Mr. Barker. What do you think? He says with a sinister look on his face.

We can let him go, says the black cop. His story checks out and he doesn’t appear to be a threat. I’ve just ran his name and he’s clear." Phew! I guess I have a good guardian angel somewhere up there watching out for me.

As I came closer to Lake Merrit my mind starts to rest at ease a little. I’m finally out of East Oakland and headed into the West. I checked my watch and I’m making good timing right now and I still got a long ways ahead of me, but if you thought the East was full of knocks the West is engulfed with knocks. Seven out of every ten people you see is a knock in the West Oakland. Now that’s fucked up.

Damn I wish I still had my car I wouldn’t be in this shit at all. Let me tell yall what happened to my Emerald green S.O. Mustang with the peanut butter interior, sitting on dubs.

I had my baby parked outside my boy Finger’s house 27th and San Pablo. Now Fingers is a straight thief.

Back in the day he use to stay in a hot boy (stolen car) with a whole get-up on that he just stole out of South Land Mall.

Now a-day’s some people call him by his old handle Cleptoe, but you can catch him with Sleezy and Brian and his big cousin Jungle at their computer doing these credit card scams. Last year they took a trip to ATL all on someone else’s account. They’re pretty good at what they do. Now I’m in Fingers house trying to get some purple from Jungle. His big fake ass Jumang African looking cousin was trying to sell me some fake ass purple. I mean it was some chronic, but it wasn’t purple. Ju finally lets up and says he knows where to get some real purple for cheap. So we jump in my baby, all freshly waxed and detailed. We go to Market and Mead street about two and half blocks away. Now when we roll up we see about twenty to thirty people outside this niggas house and I know it’s no party going on inside. I look at Jungles big black ass and he says what’s up to everybody and gets out the car and tells me to come inside with him. These thugs looked like they respected Ju so I got out and did the usual hard look and head nod and went inside the big sky blue house. When we came in the living room it was about ten people in there and they all looked at us like we were crazy, until they noticed Jungle. I swear I could not take my eyes off that money they had on the coffee table. It looked like at least one hundred thousand dollars that they were putting in zip lock bags. Right next to that was like twelve zips of hard rock coke with fifteen zips of powder coke and they were all smoking those belagiter’s (2, or 3 blunts connected). The one guy called Jug must have noticed me gawking because he instantly said What yall want? I snapped back to reality and spoke for myself. Let me get a half a zip of some purple. Jug looks back down as if I never said nothing and says hollar at Brick in the back. One of Jug’s boys took me to the back door yo B we got somebody that needs some grapes. Then leaves me in the hallway in front of the door. I ain’t going to lie I thought Brick was going to be some 6 foot 6 inch two hundred and fifty pound muscle man that look like he came out of WWF, but when a thick (and I mean thick) 5’6 one hundred and thirty pound goddess opened up the door wearing some tight Rocka Wear jeans, a skin tight Baby Phat T-shirt and some gold and white Airforce ones she definitely surprised me. She had to be Indian, Black and something else ’cause she had that caramel colored complexion with long hair down to her back and beautiful eyes that were brown. She tells me to come in, but I’m still in shock just standing there looking at her. She laughs, turns around and walks back into the room with that heart shaped booty just going up and down. It was like a 3D affect. So how much do you need she says in a quiet little voice. I snap back to reality again and step into the lavender colored room. She has R n B and hip-hop posters all over her room with a Jordan carpet and a queen size bed in the middle of the room. She sat on the bed with about six pounds of weed molded into a big brick then everything kind of connected in my head. So that’s why they call you brick."

I said it all googley eyed. She looks up at me and smiles then says yep so how much do you want? I got three different kinds of purple. She had a business look on her face then took a half of blunt that was in her ash tray and fires it up, takes a hit and passes it to me. I hit it and it tastes like candy, it was harsh too.

I coughed and said, I’ll take a half ah zip of this. She smiled again and I’m actually thinking that I’m falling in love. she pulls out her scale and weighs it out and bags it up and tells me that’ll be $160.00. I gave the money kind of sad it didn’t last longer, get up and head for the door. She says hey don’t you want my number? In my head I’m thinking hell yeah girl I’m going to call you tonight and see what’s really going on, but we damn well know this is just business. I still was excited and said yeah, um by the way I’m Spicy Mike. She looks me in the eyes and I could have sworn she wanted me right then and there, but she just told me her number and I put it in my phone and smiled to myself as I left the room. When me and Ju left them nigga’s outside was on my car, leaning on it taking pictures of themselves and the car like it was theirs. I was about to go bad on these fools until Jungle went bad for me and they instantly got off the car.

As we rode off I tell Ju Bra do you know Brick? That girl is a dime piece for real.

He just laughs and tells me Boy you better not try to mess with her. I mean she’s cool and she ain’t no scandalous chick, or nothing, but did you see all those people outside that house? I swear they’re all her cousins or play brothers and will kill over that girl.

You hear me?

I said Yeah, but I definitely was not hearing Ju at that time.

My thoughts and plots were all focused on me getting with Brick.

Jungle says Jug is her real step brother and he’s super protective over that girl. Her girlfriends are deadly too so I think you should reconsider going after her because believe me there are too many fish in the sea for you to mess with a piranha."

Shit I was not hearing that because my mind was somewhere else. So as the days went on