Random Family: Love, Drugs, Trouble, and Coming of Age in the Bro by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc
Authors: Adrian Nicole LeBlanc
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Roseland showed no trace of the skinny aspirant from the heroin mill: she’d fattened up. Jessica had a body now—thickened thighs, breasts you noticed, beauty-parlor hair. With the radar of a wounded lover, Miranda understood the significance of Jessica’s ascent in rank. The twenty-two-karat-gold Boy George nameplate around her neck flashed a victory sign. Jessica was no longer George’s around-the-way girl, hidden in a stash house. She had been promoted yet again: Jessica was one of Boy George’s mistresses now.
During the summer of 1988, Boy George ran into Cesar, who was standing with Rocco on Tremont Avenue. Cesar and Rocco hadn’t mended their friendship, but they were on speaking terms. George had a gash on his hand. He explained to Cesar and Rocco that he’d been in a street fight with a guy who really knew how to move.
“So what did you do?” Rocco asked.
“Jumped him,” George said. The next time, however, George wanted to do better than improvise. He remembered that Rocco had boxed and asked him about finding a trainer. “Who’s the best guy at Gleason’s?” George asked.
“Panama,” said Rocco. They agreed that Rocco would introduce them.
“Tell him he’s got to get me to fight Mike Tyson,” George said. When Rocco relayed the message, Panama scoffed. But the next time Panama saw Rocco, he embraced him—Panama had hooked up with George. “Icould have told the guy [Panama] to kiss my ass and he would have done it,” Rocco said. George had started training, but Panama, in his new gold jewelry, looked more like the champion. George even flew Panama to visit his parents in Panama; George had once been similarly expansive with one of his Chinese suppliers, setting him up in a rental house on the beach in Puerto Rico with limousines and party girls.
A carton overflowing with barely used boxing boots sat beside Panama’s desk in his office, not far from a locker jammed with training shorts: George wore them once and gave them away. “You don’t know, you don’t know,” Panama said to Rocco, shaking his head at the extravagance. George wanted to win the Golden Gloves and Panama believed George had more than a decent chance. George called Panama “Papi” and “Dad.” Another trainer approached Rocco and asked, “You got any more friends like that?”
George treated his regimen seriously. “He’d always like healthy foods,” said Jessica. “Vegetables and, you know, things that would cleanse your body, like teas.” He popped vitamins. Instead of soda, he drank cranberry juice. He cycled and jogged. His new schedule left less time than ever for Jessica. Danny became his surrogate.
“George, I want to go to the movies,” Jessica would say.
“Have Danny take you,” George would reply.
“George, I have an appointment.”
“Beep Danny.”
“George, I want to go shopping.”
“Have Danny take you, I have things to do.”
George did not keep his other girls from her. There was no need to. When a guy had money, girls were everywhere. “One-night-stand girls who came back for more,” George explained, “girls who clung to me like a cheap suit. Then there were girls who were my regular jewels of the Nile, more upper class than these regular girls.” One of George’s block managers got sex from a girl for allowing her to sit in his car—without even having to take her driving. Other girls gave it up for a pair of sneakers, or a pack of Pampers, or cigarettes, or a take-out meal. Sex was currency. Sex was also the boy’s right and his main girlfriend’s problem. Jessica perceived the challenge the same way the women around her did—girl versus girl. Jessica did not ask George questions about what he did all the hours he spent away from home. “I’m not the type to ask questions because I don’t like to be asked questions,” Jessica said. But she did try to intimidate the competition. When girls paged George, Jessicaphoned them back. “Don’t beep my man,”
During the summer of 1988, Boy George ran into Cesar, who was standing with Rocco on Tremont Avenue. Cesar and Rocco hadn’t mended their friendship, but they were on speaking terms. George had a gash on his hand. He explained to Cesar and Rocco that he’d been in a street fight with a guy who really knew how to move.
“So what did you do?” Rocco asked.
“Jumped him,” George said. The next time, however, George wanted to do better than improvise. He remembered that Rocco had boxed and asked him about finding a trainer. “Who’s the best guy at Gleason’s?” George asked.
“Panama,” said Rocco. They agreed that Rocco would introduce them.
“Tell him he’s got to get me to fight Mike Tyson,” George said. When Rocco relayed the message, Panama scoffed. But the next time Panama saw Rocco, he embraced him—Panama had hooked up with George. “Icould have told the guy [Panama] to kiss my ass and he would have done it,” Rocco said. George had started training, but Panama, in his new gold jewelry, looked more like the champion. George even flew Panama to visit his parents in Panama; George had once been similarly expansive with one of his Chinese suppliers, setting him up in a rental house on the beach in Puerto Rico with limousines and party girls.
A carton overflowing with barely used boxing boots sat beside Panama’s desk in his office, not far from a locker jammed with training shorts: George wore them once and gave them away. “You don’t know, you don’t know,” Panama said to Rocco, shaking his head at the extravagance. George wanted to win the Golden Gloves and Panama believed George had more than a decent chance. George called Panama “Papi” and “Dad.” Another trainer approached Rocco and asked, “You got any more friends like that?”
George treated his regimen seriously. “He’d always like healthy foods,” said Jessica. “Vegetables and, you know, things that would cleanse your body, like teas.” He popped vitamins. Instead of soda, he drank cranberry juice. He cycled and jogged. His new schedule left less time than ever for Jessica. Danny became his surrogate.
“George, I want to go to the movies,” Jessica would say.
“Have Danny take you,” George would reply.
“George, I have an appointment.”
“Beep Danny.”
“George, I want to go shopping.”
“Have Danny take you, I have things to do.”
George did not keep his other girls from her. There was no need to. When a guy had money, girls were everywhere. “One-night-stand girls who came back for more,” George explained, “girls who clung to me like a cheap suit. Then there were girls who were my regular jewels of the Nile, more upper class than these regular girls.” One of George’s block managers got sex from a girl for allowing her to sit in his car—without even having to take her driving. Other girls gave it up for a pair of sneakers, or a pack of Pampers, or cigarettes, or a take-out meal. Sex was currency. Sex was also the boy’s right and his main girlfriend’s problem. Jessica perceived the challenge the same way the women around her did—girl versus girl. Jessica did not ask George questions about what he did all the hours he spent away from home. “I’m not the type to ask questions because I don’t like to be asked questions,” Jessica said. But she did try to intimidate the competition. When girls paged George, Jessicaphoned them back. “Don’t beep my man,”
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