Inside A Thugs Heart Read online

  I talked to my mom. I argued with my friend because he couldn’t understand why I’d canceled our date if all I was doing was watching television alone. Needless to say, he took it personally. I understood, but I just wasn’t extremely sympathetic. I talked to another friend of mine, and, of course, Tanya called several times to inquire about the status of my incoming calls. Somewhere close to 9 P.M., I had pretty much given up on the idea that Tupac would call again. I had simply missed my opportunity to chat with him. Wow! What a disappointing moment. But on the brighter side of the situation, I had finally won a bet!

  My phone rang at 9:12 P.M.

  “Hello,” I said dryly.

  “May I speak to Angela?” The voice vibrated through the phone.

  “This is Angela,” I said, my heart racing a mile a minute. I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but I was making one large assumption. No, I was definitely assuming.

  “This is Tupac,” the caller said, then hesitated.

  I thought I was going to fall over. This was crazy. I had just entered the Crazy Zone. “Hey. How’re you doing?” I said, trying to lower my heart rate quietly.

  “Under the circumstances, fine.”

  “I heard that.” We both laughed nervously.

  “I really liked your letter and picture. You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you. I wasn’t sure you would respond.”

  “I had to. The letter was real, the picture is beautiful, and it smelled so good. I had to call.” We laughed.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Now I have a sweet voice and laugh to put with everything else,” he said, his tone softening.

  Is he flirting with me? I thought to myself. Nawww. Wishful thinking .

  “How did you call me? You have special privileges?” I asked jokingly.

  “Yeah, right now I do, but they’re gonna ship me outta here soon. I just don’t know when.”

  “How long do you have?”

  “One and a half to four and a half years.”

  “Damn!” I said.

  Tanya walked into the house at that moment, talking about I-don’t-know-what, and I frantically waved to her to shut up. Excitedly, she mouthed, “Is that Tupac?” and I nodded my head yeah, putting my finger over my mouth.

  “Yeah, I know, right? Is it okay if I write you?” he asked, unsure.

  “Please do,” I said, trying to mask my utter disbelief in what was going on.

  “Maybe if we get cool enough, you can come and visit me,” he said, hesitating.

  I paused briefly. I was surprised that he was even having this thought. I walked briskly to my room, taking the cordless with me, and looked in the mirror. Yes, I was awake.

  “Yeah, I’m sure that could be arranged when the time comes,” I said quietly, with a smile and a wink to myself in the mirror.

  “You bullshitin’ me,” he said, laughing.

  “No, I’m not. I’m serious. Once we get to know each other better, I’d come.”

  “You’d come? You promise?” he asked.

  He wants me to make him a promise, I thought. This, I’m sure, was normal for him, now, so I played along. As if things would ever get that far.

  “Yes, when that time comes, I promise,” I said to him, and we both laughed.

  “You gotta keep sayin’ ‘when the time comes,’ right?” he said, chuckling.

  “Yeahhhhhhh. Gotta keep sayin’ it,” I answered, and we laughed again.

  “God, you sound sweet,” he said with what I imagined to be a smile.

  “Thank you.” He was flirting with me, I convinced myself.

  “Well, they’re waving me off the phone, but look for my letter soon, and write me back, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

  “Sweet dreams.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  “Look!” I said, excited. Tanya turned around and noticed the huge diamond on my finger. Her eyes sprung out of her head.

  “Oh my God!” she screamed. “He asked you to marry him?” She jumped up and down.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screamed, as thoughts of home life and kids ran through my head. So vivid, yet faded by the cloudy atmosphere that dreams create. I could see him standing there in his black tux, made to order like only Tupac can wear: baggy, but tailored. The bridesmaids and groomsmen standing in a row, waiting for me to come through the gated yard. “If This World Were Mine” by Luther Vandross was keyed up, and I appeared at the gate. One hundred doves were released as the white gates opened. Everyone remained standing as I started my walk down the aisle, with white chiffon flowing freely from my gown, as the wind off the ocean blew its blessings my way. Tupac smiled and looked up to the sky, appreciating the white rose petals that were falling from the heavens. The setting sun bounced off the beads of my gown, illuminating my presence in the aisle as I reached Pac at the altar. He took my hand in his, and a tear fell slowly down my face. Wiping it away, he took my chin in his hand.

  “I love you,” he said softly.

  “I love you, too.”

  The minister went through the ceremony as the sun went down on the water that formed our backdrop. The blackness was brightened by the appearance of a thousand stars in the sky. After everyone looked in awe at the stars, Tupac and I gazed into each other’s eyes with adoration. The minister turned to us and said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. ” We smiled at each other. “You may kiss the bride, ” the minister said and closed his Bible as we put our arms around each other and . . .

  “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again . . . message three-four-two-one-seven.” Beep. I could hear the operator from a distance. I had not hung up the phone, and the operator had rudely interrupted my train of thought, right at the kiss. I hung up and ran into the kitchen, where Tanya was eagerly waiting with ice cream.

  “What? What? What?” She jumped, excitedly shoving a bowl of chocolate ice cream at me and pushing me into the living room. She took her normal spot on the love seat, and I took mine on the couch.

  “This is crazy!” I screamed, giving her a “what’s-going-on?” look.

  “What happened?”

  “This is crazy, crazy, crazy!” I screamed.

  “Ann, okay, this is crazy. Now what did he say? Before I throw my ice cream at you,” she said, with a spoonful of butter pecan pointed in my direction.

  “He asked me if he could write me and if, after we get to know each other better, I’d promise to come and visit him.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes, girl.”

  “When is he going to write you?”

  “I don’t know. He just said soon.”

  I lay in my bed that night and prided myself on the letter, the picture, the perfume, the envelope, the Express Mail delivery, and my spirit to take on and execute the bet. Something within this list of pride-bearing items inspired, triggered, intrigued, or just simply motivated Tupac to call and respond. I didn’t know which it was, but I was pleased that he had. No, I was thrilled that he had. It didn’t matter to me how many other letters he responded to or how many other females he asked to promise a visit. The only thing that interested me was the fact that he had responded to my letter and had called me—twice—to talk. If this wound up being the extent of our association, I would be fine with it, and I would take what happened as confirmation that the impossible is possible and that probability is just as much a reality as surreal experiences.

  But guess what? It was only the beginning.

  Chapter 3

  THE FIRST LETTER EXCHANGE

  It’s funny how once something comes into your life or you take notice of something, you begin to repeatedly see or hear things that refer to that something. All of a sudden, I took notice of any-and everything that had to do with Tupac. I wasn’t fixated on him, but I constantly noticed reminders of him. For example, I was driving down Cambelton Road and I saw a poster advertisin
g the upcoming release of his CD. I was in the mall and I noticed that his songs were playing. Or I listened to the radio or watched television and took notice when he was being talked about, when before I would have overlooked it and not paid any attention. It happened that day Tanya and I went to the mall before I actually wrote the first letter to him. I know they didn’t just start playing his music or hanging his posters—I just started noticing.

  My mom wasn’t surprised by the series of events, but she was very concerned about the whole situation. She began by asking if I could afford the collect calls. I assured her that he didn’t call me collect and ended the conversation by saying this was probably the beginning of the end.

  “Angela, please,” she responded. She calls me Angela only when she’s irritated or angry. I decided she was irritated because this tone usually meant she wasn’t going to share her total feelings at this time. I immediately changed the subject.

  A beautiful, moisture-filled day encouraged me to walk out and get our mail. As I reached into the box, the sky opened up, and I hurried back to the apartment as a clap of thunder echoed. I flipped through the mail and my eyes read, “Ms. Angela Lovely.” I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Angela,

  You’ll have to forgive my sloppy handwriting but I don’t have the typing skills or the typewriter to do this in the neat manner that you did but hey! It’s the thought that counts right? Okay, now how do I begin? First of all I was very impressed with your letter. I have received many letters since this “incident” and yours is definitely one of the ones that stood out. With all the drama I’ve been going through it was nice to see there was still a true woman out there that didn’t have a problem communicating with a man. I truly appreciate the little things a woman does to express herself, like the perfume and the beautiful pictures. As you already know I am currently being held hostage in RIKER’S ISLAND STATE PEN! I’ll be moved to a real penitentiary upstate in a few days but not too far. As far as this whole sexual abuse charge, if you knew anything about me and the character that I possess, you would know I AM totally innocent! Unfortunately being a “Thug” and talking shit can get a nigga framed in Amerikkka! I’ve been sentenced to 1½-4½ years but as long as I chill (which I am) I should be out in 96, the early part if I really behave! When I do get out, however, I’ll be sharper, stronger and even hungrier! As you know I was shot five times. Twice in the head once in the hand, once in the leg and one very painful shot in the scrotum. The two shots to the head healed as did the hand and leg and “family jewels”! I was extremely blessed to have taken so much lead and still be able to walk, talk and have babies but GOD was with me and here I am! My new album “Me Against the World” will be out March 14, and I expect great things from it. So while I’m locked down my business will still be handled! It’s good to hear you are doing good for yourself. I want to say that’s too bad about the end of your five year relationship but I’m a real and honest person and really I’m glad his loss my gain! As for me I don’t really have a woman but honestly I have a special person in my life but we’re more friends than anything. In your letter you made it clear that you didn’t want anything from me, well once again keeping it real I can’t say the same thing. I would love to get to know you better and to see if we can begin a friendship together. I figure if you can be my friend while I’m in here we’ll be real cool once I’m released THINK ABOUT IT! Being in prison I can’t promise you much but I can assure you I am honest straight forward, caring and DEEP. Being a Gemini there are several layers and sides to my personality and it’s just a matter of getting to know each other and finding the right mix that’ll click. I guess this is enough for now but I am hardly finished get back to me. Be a little more personal. Send me some more pictures and keep me in your prayers and thoughts! In fact every night at midnite (if you’re still up) look at the sky find a star and know that I am somewhere doing the same thing thinking positive pleasurable thoughts about you. Could you do me that favor!? Until next time!

  ETENALLY

  YOURZ

  Tupac A Shakur (Signature)

  “2PAC”

  Sorry I don’t have any beautiful smells to pass on to you but know that I’m smiling and considering where I’m at that’s a plus! “I just talked to you and you sound very sweet!” 2PAC

  Tanya and I lounged and read the letter over and over.

  The next morning, I felt like I was about to reveal the largest secret in the universe as I walked into the office, letter in hand. I called an emergency meeting and everyone that was present the night of the bet convened in the conference room.

  “What’s going on?” one of my coworkers asked.

  “Patience. Patience, little one,” I teased as everyone took a seat.

  “Tanya, the lights,” I commanded. The room went dark.

  In my best English accent, I said, “I’m not here to take up too much of your time. I just have a little something I want to share. I know that this room is filled with a few nonbelievers. A select few who live in a very small box filled with perfect pictures, colored neatly inside the lines. Those of you who believe in the reality of possibility know what it feels like to color outside of the lines that life draws.” Everyone chuckled. “For all present, feast your eyes on the reality of possibility.” I then flicked on the projector, which flashed the images of Tupac’s envelope and letter on the viewing screen. Gasps filled the room.

  “For those in-line drawers, this is a lesson that anything is possible. You don’t mess up the picture if you color outside the lines. Rather, you create new boundaries for your picture and, in turn, for your life. That concludes this meeting. Feel free to read the letter at your leisure.” I laughed and left the room.

  I sat and pondered the fact that no one would have thought that it could be that easy. My mother always says, “Things are only as difficult as you make them or think them to be.” I was a believer now. Tupac Shakur had written me a letter. To see what would happen next was what kept me racing back to the mailbox.

  Chapter 4

  TUPAC REACHES OUT

  I decided to send Tupac a card before I wrote him a second letter. I wanted something that was motivational, that pertained to his situation, so I chose one that contained one of my favorite poems, “Footprints in the Sand.” I was in the midst of composing my second letter when I received another one from him addressed to Ms. Angela Lovely. I wasn’t expecting another one that soon. Then I noticed that the address was different. He had been moved.

  March 2, 1995

  Angela,

  I’m glad I got to speak to you when I did because at 5:00A.M. the next morning, just as predicted, I was moved to a classification facility upstate in the mountains. My movement is restricted to my cell and I am unable to have visitors or use the phone. I am kept in what is called Administrative Segregation. They feel as though either I’m a threat to this facility or this facility is a threat to me. So once again I am forced to adapt to a fucked up situation. I sure wish I had one of your letters in here so that I could stare at your picture and smell the intoxicating aroma of your perfume. Once I left Riker’s Island I was stripped of everything; my letters, cloths, etc. So I am currently imagining or remembering what you look and smell like. If you find the time write me and enclose a more personal letter and picture. Hopefully this won’t last long I am being as strong as possible and representing THUGLIFE as I believe it should be. The most pain is knowing I am in here for something I didn’t do! Damn that will never go away, the feeling of helplessness and to know my own people set me up! That’s alright though, with GOD beside me and a good woman around to love a nigga like he need to be loved the world will be mine once again. So I am asking for your affections from all the way in this cell. Send me some love to get me through this stormy weather.

  Passionately,

  2PAC

  Tupac A Shakur

  (signature)

  “He wants you to send him some love,” Tanya joked in a raspy voice.

  “H
e wants a pen pal,” I said, trying to concentrate on composing my second letter to him. “He already has loved ones, who, I’m sure, are sending him mad love.”

  “Yes, but he’s asking for you to send him some along with your affections. Send him some, girl.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You know, with your writing skills, you could send him a little somethin’-somethin’ to get him through this typhoon,” she laughed.

  “I could send him a lot of things that could take his mind somewhere else for a minute.”

  “So, are you?”

  “I’ll wait and take it slow.”

  She glanced at me knowingly again.

  “He’s not even coming at me like that, Tan.”

  “Umm huh. Well, I definitely want to read those letters when you start writing them. And you will start writing them. Watch what I say,” she said, smirking, as she headed out of my room.

  Dear Tupac,

  I sent you a poem, but I guess you probably didn’t get it because I sent it to Rikers Island. You know you’re going to be okay. I think this for two reasons: one, you’re a Gemini and we Geminis are chameleons that can adapt to anything and any situation, and second, you’re a survivor and this situation will not fold you. My mother always told me—and I’m sure you’ve heard this a million five times—that everything happens for a reason. Maybe that reason isn’t evident right now, but one day, hopefully, it will reveal itself. Just know that God has a plan for you.

  In your last letter, you asked me to be a little more personal, so here goes. I was born in Detroit, Michigan; raised in Grand Rapids, Michigan; and at 18 moved to Atlanta. Atlanta is wonderful. My original plan was to enroll in Georgia State University’s accounting program, but due to procrastinating on completing the paperwork, I had to sit out. A year later, I began studying accounting at DeVry Institue of Technology, and afterwards, I secured a permanent position with a great company. It’s a nice job, the people are cool, and I’m happy. This job is “all about the kids,” and I think the world should be “all about the kids.” Don’t you? I’ve been modeling since I was 7 years old. I think I probably went to every modeling school that Michigan had to offer. Everything I learned wasn’t useful, but it served its purpose. I’ve taken dance classes for 10 years—jazz, modern, and ballet. I’ve taken singing lessons, karate, sculpting, guitar lessons, flute lessons, and acting classes. I drove my mom crazy.