Turn around, “I’m talking to you,” shouted dad. “How many times have I told you to keep away from those kids? They’re nothing but trouble and up to no good.”
Dad was right. My brother was heading for trouble. Something had to be done and I knew how to help him. I needed to make him try to reach his dream. He was such a talented singer, but he had stopped believing, that he could make it through in that business. Instead he had dropped out of school and started in a gang, where they were getting paid for drug selling. It was an easy way to make some money in our ghetto. But maybe he wasn’t aware of the risk he was taking. “It’s just a job” he told me. But that was not true. They could easily get in a fight with another gang, or get shot, if they were selling drugs on some other guys’ corner, or something like that. Small thing to get in a fight for, but in our neighborhood you never knew what to expect.
My next step was to help my dad open my brothers’ eyes. I knew that we had to make him move up to our aunt in LA, and in that way we could save him from the harsh drug environment. I also knew that she had more money than us, and she could afford to send my brother at a singing school. The day my mother passed away my aunt promised her that she in anytime would take care of me and my brother, if it became necessary. So we were aware of what we had to do.
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