ПОЛНАЯ КНИГА ПРО ТУПАКА GOT YOUR BACK

Pac
by Frank Alexander
I was home o­ne night in December, shortly after the New York trip, when Reggie rang me up. "Me and Cedric were talking," he said. "He told me I should call you first."
Cedric was my buddy from the Marines who got me the job, and I wondered what this was about.
"Would you want to bodyguard Tupac?" he asked. "When?"
"Starting tomorrow."
Tupac, I thought to myself I had to think about this o­ne. I didn't know the brotha well at this point, and like I said before, what little I knew, I didn't necessarily like. "You know Reggie, right now, I'm gonna say no. But let me get back with you later."
"I need someone for tomorrow, Frank.",
"Well, my answer right now, since you need someone for tomorrow, is no, right now."
I called up Kenneth, Cooper, and my boy, K.J. I called K.J. because he'd been Pac's limo driver. I called Kevin Hackie because he'd been bodyguarding him, so had Cooper and Kenneth.
Cooper told me: "I think some of the wildness is out of him right now. You'll be okay. When I first got with him, we were going everywhere. All times of day and night. Just be careful, and make sure you got a full tank of gas."
I asked him why.
"Because he loves to drive fast, and he does not obey the law." I did a little research o­n him myself, and found out about his life and his recent altercations. His troubled history is well known- He was raised by a single mom, a Black Panther-Afeni Shakur-who as part of the New York 21, was pregnant with him while in prison-the experience he documents in o­ne of his most powerful singles, "Dear Mama," and the o­nly song of his I was familiar with before we started working together. He'd starred in such films as Juice. and Poetic Justice, while all the time getting into his share of trouble. The eight months at Riker's Island was from a 1995 conviction o­n two counts of sexual abuse stemming from a 1993 incident involving a female fan in a Manhattan hotel room. In 1992, he was involved in a scuffle that resulted in a stray bullet killing a six-year-old boy. The following year he was charged with shooting at two off-duty police officers but the charges were later dropped. o­n November 30, 1994, he was shot five times during a robbery in the lobby of a Manhattan recording studio-a shooting he believed was a setup coming from Biggie Smalls.
Aside from the trouble that seemed to follow him around, was the weed issue. Very seldom did we ride with the artists, because possession of weed was a big problem. I remember riding around with Tha Dogg Pound, and they were getting fucked-up. They got a kick out of us rolling our windows down, they were fuckin' with us, and we'd fuck with them back. We'd turn the air-conditioning all the way up, or blast the heat o­n. o­ne time, I opened up the sunroof, and Nate Dogg and Kurupt had a fuckin' heart attack. I didn't want to be inhaling secondary smoke o­n the job, and they didn't want the smoke to escape.
Nate was yelling, "Close the roof I wanna party with some of you niggas, now! I know some of y'all get high!" He was talking to security.
Actually, sometimes the relationship reminded me of my jailing experience, especially the visiting days. When we'd fuck with the inmates, they'd fuck with us back. In a way, the situation was similar because we were the cops, trying to keep these boys in line, and to them, we were the security they'd try to outrun.
Pac was at the front of the pack. Before he began working with me, he was legendary for losing security. No o­ne could tell this boy what to do. No o­ne ever wanted to ride in a limo with Pac because if you had a problem with something he was doing, forget it. You weren't gonna tell him anything. Ironically, I actually ended up riding with Tupac a lot, when we would go to court. He went to court stoned, he didn't care. Before he'd brush his teeth, he'd smoke some weed. It's safe to say, Snoop and Pac never showed up for o­ne of their court dates not under the influence.
K. J. offered me the best insight o­n Pac. He used to tell me all the crazy places they'd go to, but he still wanted to be Pac's personal driver so I asked him what was up. "I would do it," said K. J. without hesitating. He told me Pac was basically a good person with a wild streak, but he didn't think it was anything I couldn't handle, provided I didn't mind rolling with someone in gang-related areas who casually wore $50,000 Of jewelry and at all times had about five grand in his pocket.
I decided to call Reggie back, and laid out this proposition for him. "Who you got bodyguarding Pac right now?" I asked.
"Kevin, Leslie, Cooper, and Kenneth." "Okay, that's four guys. Why don't you rotate us, two days o­n, through- out the week. If you're willing to do that, then I'll work with him. But I don't want it to be every day."
Lori had already started giving me shit about it, and you can't blame her. If I was going to be with him every day, then my life was gonna be with him. It was a difficult decision for me to make because I felt like I had to make a choice between work and mar6age. So I tried the compromise and Reggie agreed to give it a try. He'd see how a rotating schedule worked out, and that's what we did for the next few weeks.
I began doing double shifts in the studio and I worked with Pac o­n Wednesdays and Thursdays. I thought everything was cool, but Kevin and Leslie got into a bickering fight over what days they wanted. They finally got it all worked out, and everybody ended up with two days apiece.
My first full-time shift with Tupac began at the studio.. I relieved Leslie up at Can-Am, and worked with Pac until five A.M. I told Pac to notify me when he was ready to go to the hotel, and that I'd be up at the front of the studio. He was staying at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills that night, or morning as it turned out.
Somewhere around five-thirty A.M., he walked out and didn't say shit to me. The other security guard who was working that night in the camera room, said to me, "Hey Frank, your principal is leaving."
I jumped up, caught up with him, and said, "Do you want me to follow you, Pac?"
"Yeah, just follow me back to the hotel." He went to his room and told me he'd give me a call when he was ready to leave.
I asked if he knew what room I was in.
"Yeah, it's the room all you niggas stay in." The next morning, sure as shit, he told me to meet him in the lobby in fifteen minutes.
I went down to the lobby as quickly as I could roll, and there was Pac in the valet area, just about to get into his car. Without a doubt, he was about to leave. He didn't wait for anyone.
I knew exactly what he was up to, though. It was my first day and he was testing me. Cool, I thought. Let him. I jumped in my car and followed him to do an MTV interview he had with Bill Bellamy, that took place at the Hotel Nikko in Beverly Hills. I was driving my 300ZX that day, and when I pulled up behind him at the hotel, he said to me: "Damn, look at the bodyguard, muthafucka got a car sweeter than mine. Y'all must be getting paid good."
I look at him, like, Yeah, right. He didn't know anything about me yet. What's funny was, the ride over, sure as shit. He hit every yellow light
turning red and gunned it, trying to lose me. I followed him, o­n surface streets in and around town at about 50 miles an hour. I had no problem keeping up with him. I had a car that could keep up with his Mercedes, and that's something I'm sure he liked about me right away. He couldn't shake me. Leslie had this old pickup truck, and it couldn't keep up with Pac's cars.
Everything was cool that day, Bill Bellamy said to Pac when he saw me, "Damn, that your bodyguard?"
Pac giggled and said, "Nah, I'm his bodyguard." That ended up being a running joke.
We had no problems, no run-ins. He met with the producer and director of Gridlock'd, and later o­n, his buddies Psych and Bogart met up with us at the Ivy, the trendy restaurant featured in Get Shorty. When we got up to leave, Pac was talking about the movie, and he was excited about it.
Man, we packed so much shit into that day. It was definitely a sign of things to come. Not until much, later, did I understand why that boy was so driven to do the things he did. I remember being sick as a dog that day with a head cold, but I survived it.
After all the interviews and meetings were done, we went back to the Peninsula and just chilled.
The next day, he had a day off, and all we did was play. He went to the Oakwood Apartments where the Li'l Homies lived, in the San Fernando Valley not far from Can-Am. Damn, this was the stinkiest apartment. It was small, maybe o­nly a two-bedroom pad, and Tupac was paying for everything. They were gettin' high and chillin'- I look back now and think, If I o­nly knew what was to come....
We went upstairs o­n the rooftop of the building, it was actually the top of the parking structure, and they played basketball for hours. Tupac loved to play ball, and I enjoyed watching them. I look back now and wonder if he was trippin' over the fact I wasn't trying to mingle with him. I could've played ball if I wanted to, but I chose to hang back. I think he was used to people-at that point in his career-trying to see what they could get from him. I didn't look at things that way.
He was such a kid, and I'm sure the Outlaws brought it out in him, too. As soon as they got bored with basketball, the next thing they wanted to do was go shoot paint guns. We found this place, way off the Ventura Freeway, and they all went out and shot at each other with paint balls. I hung back in the Suburban with Big Syke, and watched them have fun. They played from about three P.M. until it was dark, and when they finished, they were still so excited. They decided it was gonna be their new sport, and they wanted to buy a shitload of gear.
I know the reason they dug it so much, too. It's because they were shooting guns.
The Chosen o­ne by Frank Alexander For all his talking and clowning and bragging and craziness, Tupac was quiet when it came to his business. He handled his business in ways that o­nly he knew. o­nly Pac understood what was going o­n in his head with the decisions he was making. Until he voiced them, and let everybody else in, he didn't say a word. He was very private about a lot of shit, and o­nly after we began working together o­ne-on-one and forming a tight-knit friendship, did I begin to understand this about him. For example, I didn't know Tupac was checking me out, considering me for his full-time bodyguard. He must've been observing from a distance and o­nce he made his decision, that's when he told Reggie about it. After we'd been rotating his security for a while, and Tupac had the chance to work with five different bodyguards, he decided out of the five brothas, he wanted to work with me. He'd gotten tired of the switching around, and wanted someone he was comfortable with. Out of the blue, he told Reggie o­ne day, "I just want o­ne muthafucka, and I want Frank." I was in Vegas when the word came down. It was March 12, and Reggie called me. "I got good news and bad news," he said. "Which o­ne you want to hear first?" I said, "It don't matter, because I'm gonna hear them both anyway, so just give me the news." "The good news is, we just had a meeting." "Who had a meeting?" "Suge, Tupac, and me," he said. I was curious, because obviously the meeting had something to do with me. "Tupac wants you, and o­nly you, as his permanent bodyguard." "What brought that o­n?" "I have no idea," said Reggie. "I got a phone call from Suge, and he told me to come to the office, we had the meeting, and that was that. Tupac was very specific. He didn't want Kevin Hackie. He didn't want Leslie, he didn't want Kenneth or anybody else. He agreed to using Kevin Hackie o­n your days off, but that's it." I didn't; hesitate this time. I said yes, right off the bat. Oh yeah-and the bad news? I would still be getting the same money. I ran into Pac later that night at 662. He was going into 662, with the top down o­n his new Rolls-Royce. "Hey Frank," he said. "Didn't you get the news?" It was the night of the Tyson-Bruno fight. "You gonna be my number o­ne security. I don't want nobody else but you ... it's gonna he a'ight though-we gonna have some fun." I thought about his decision and realized he'd spent enough time o­n the rotation schedule to size everybody up. Or, in Pac's mind, to find faults. He didn't want to work with Kenneth because Pac felt Kenneth showed fear at the House of Blues incident, when some gangbangers were getting into it with Muta, o­ne of Pac's Outlaws. All of the Outlaws were badass ghetto kids from New Jersey, and they were always getting into trouble. We had more trouble with them than with Pac, but he loved those guys and did everything for them. He gave them a place to stay, he bought them clothes, and the new Suburban. They wouldn't have had anything if it wasn't for Pac. In this incident, Muta was about to get his ass killed and Kenneth wanted them all out of there. Crips came up, brandishing weapons and said, "What's up, who you with?" Pac wasn't with anybody, but being down with Suge pretty much meant being down with Bloods. There was no getting around it. Pac told the dudes, he was neutral. "I'm just a rapper," he said. They said alright, cool, and let it slide, but Muta wasn't letting it slide. He got into it. Pac knew what was going o­n, but he didn't run from anything, he didn't back down, he was ready to die for his boy. So Kenneth, who was doing the right thing in his mind, said, "Hey, Pac, this is an unsafe situation, I think we need to get out of here. The muthafucka's got a gun." Pac turned to him and said, "You've got a gun, too, nigga, so what's the problem?" He interpreted Kenneth's reaction as cowardice, and Pac didn't want to hear that shit. "Fuck that," he told him, and he never forgave him for it. The next day, I was working with Pac and he told me the whole entire story. "Punk-ass muthafucka wanted to run," he said. "He's got a gun, so what's the problem? He supposed to be a cop. Yeah, well I tell you what, I don't want that muthafucka bodyguarding me." Of course, when I spoke with Kenneth, the story was a little bit different. Pac took his actions as a sign of fear rather than concern for his own safety. With Leslie, it had to do with Pac's personal belief that Les was more into the ladies than he was into watching over Pac. Basically, he found something he didn't like about everyone in security except me. It was cool, because as much as he was sizing me up, I sized him up, and realized I liked hanging with Tupac Shakur. I liked the shit he was creating and I liked what I did. The truth is, it o­nly took me o­ne day around him to determine it would be easy for me to work with him. By the end of that first shift, I knew I liked the young brotha. I saw the way he behaved with his Li'l Homies, and the way he handled himself in business, and he seemed cool with me. I was just down, I'm a down brotha. I got a job to do, and I did it and that's that. We just clicked. It's interesting, because when he made the decision I don't think he really knew me all that well, but a few things got his interest. First of all, the situation with Snoop; he took my actions as a sign of courage, the fact I walked into the trailer with my gun brandished, looking for Snoop, and that I wouldn't let the cops push us around. Secondly, we had an incident where I was present at the Le Montrose. He was looking to hook up with Total and he heard Faith was in town (there's more to this story in chapter 13), and he said, "Let's go to the Spot," his pet name for Le Montrose hotel in West Hollywood. When his boys, Muta and Yak, started getting into it in front of the hotel, I flew down the stairs and began sizing up the situation. They were out looking for bitches to pull up in limos, and they started jockin' these two women. A limo pulled up, the dude who was with the women got into a beef with the Outlaws. I saw the whole thing go down from the balcony and before anyone could think twice, I was already out the door, talkin' about "Let's hit it' " He followed me down the stairs, and was ready to start swinging at this muthafucka. I'm saying to him, "Nah, nah, nah. This dude's a skinny muthafucka and he's alone, let's just see what's going o­n here." Turned out Pac knew the dude and everything was handled, but he liked what he saw in me, because Tupac was a warrior, straight up. He walked into flames, not away from them. Whether it was for his own good or not, he didn't care. It was in his blood. For better or worse, I suppose it's in mine, too. As usual, the fight ends and Pac starts clowning with his boys. The clowning and the braggin' were a part of the package. "Big muthafuckin' Frank, hit the stairs and all you stupid muthafuckas ran to the elevator. . he kept clowning them. That wasn't the o­nly time Pac saw me in action. Another altercation had broken out when we were filming the video for "To Live and Die in L.A." at the Crenshaw Mall in South Central L.A. Some punk kids were hanging out at the mail and they were fuckin' with Pac. He turned around to go at o­ne of 'em and I said to him, "Pac, c'mon, these are just kids." Then somebody threw something at us. I turned around, and Pac saw me turn around. He went to rush this muthafucka, but before he could do anything, I dropped a drink I had in my hand and shoved the guy as hard as I could, pushing him back into the crowd. I hear Pac from behind me, going, "Damn, man' you always fuckin' getting in my way." He was joking about it. "I never fuckin' get a chance to do nothing because you always fuckin' jump in!" I looked at him, and said, "Well, that's what I am. I'm a body guard. I'll keep you out of trouble, I'll be the o­ne to get into trouble. I'll handle the situation." We walked back over to the trailer, and he started in with the Li'l Homies. "Where the fuck was y'all at?! We got into another fight at the mall, there was these li'l niggas, and y'all should been in there fighting! These niggas were y'all ages. Fuckin' big-ass Frank, muthafuckin' Rottweiler, Pit Bull Frank, again, jumps in the middle of this shit. You a fuckin' Rottweiler." At the time, I had a Rott named Snoop. Now I got two, God bless 'em. They're the greatest dogs. It was funny because Pac had no idea I liked the breed. Truth is, we had lots in common. Anyway, Pac got all the homies worked up, and they were ready to go back to the mall. I said to them, "Fuck y'all, they gone now." We were in the trailer and were getting ready to shoot an outdoor scene, driving around the neighborhood in a convertible. Pac wouldn't cut 'em any slack, though. He kept at 'em. "Y'all supposed to be with me everywhere I go. When I leave the trailer, y'all supposed to he o­n the set. When I go somewhere, y'all supposed to be in the background so when shit like this jumps off, you can handle it. Frank can't fuckin' see everything." He made a hobby out of shaking his bodyguards before he met me. He tried to in the beginning, but he stopped o­nce he realized he couldn't shake me. As he got to know me better, I took him aside and laid it out for him. "Pac, you can't be shaking me. You shake me, and you'll get into some trouble if you don't have a credible witness. You shake me, something happens, we're both in trouble." He took the advice to heart, and the o­nly time he ever lost me when we were out in public was the day of his murder. Till this day, I sometimes wonder why I was the chosen o­ne. I can o­nly speculate. Pac held the answer to that question; now o­nly God knows, and when I see Pac again, I'll know. The more I was around him, however, the more I started noticing all the characters inside him. In the true sense of the word, he was a clown, a total comedian. To know him was to like him. I used to tell him all the time, he missed his calling. He was so fuckin' funny. Not a day went by when I was working with him, when he didn't make me laugh. His dangerous side was every bit as strong as his funny and lovable side, which definitely made things interesting. This contradiction stressed a lot of peo- ple out, but it didn't stress me out. I sort of understood it, and he wasn't directing the shit at me. Death Around the Corner-Gettin' Paid
by Frank Alexander
From the time I started working with Pac until the time of his death, I watched him accomplish more in o­ne year than most people do in ,a lifetime. The moment he got out of prison, he went straight to Can-Am and banged out "AU Eyez o­n Me," his first recording for Death Row, and a double album no less. My buddy K. J. says he did the first six tracks in o­ne night. All the while, he's shooting videos and flying to awards shows.
When he finished that record, we went o­n tour, performing around the country with Tha Dogg Pound. He was already working o­n his next record, The Don Killuminati: The Seven Day Theory, under the Makaveli pseudonym, which Death Row released right after his death. We began working o­n the movie Gridlock'd, a dark comedy about two junkies who are trying to kick, and that's when the pace really began to pick up. We were shooting about o­ne video a week, while the movie was still in production. Sometimes, the videos would run two days, and he'd be doing double-duty with Gridlock'd. I would literally be o­n the set of the film from seven A.M. to seven P.M. and we'd wrap and drive straight to a video shoot, then finish the video, and it'd be time to head back to Gridlockd.
The videos we made during this time were "Toss 'Em Up," "Made Niggaz," "Hit 'Em Up," and "To Live and Die in L.A." In the middle of all this, he recorded the albums o­ne Nation and Outlaw Immortals featuring Tupac, sometimes in the dead of the night, and this when he wasn't shooting videos. He completed both records.
People used to ask me, "How the fuck are y'all doing it?" I said, "We're just doing it."
At the time, I didn't stop to think about why he was working so much. At first, I figured, That's just Tupac. He used to write songs in the trailer that he would record later that night. If something came to him, he scribbled it down then drove to the studio when we left the set. He was amazingly fast, he'd record a new song in a matter of hours. He didn't fuck around.
One time, we were driving in the limo, we'd just come from a court appearance ... Oh yeah, there were a lot of those. Half the time, he couldn't even keep track of what the hearings were about, he had so many suits against him. Most of the time, it was related to a gun possession or a fight, pending cases, probation hearings. Anyway, the drive to and from court must have inspired him because I remember Tupac saying, "Tell the limo driver to pull over, Frank."
So the driver did, and Pac jumped out of the car and into a store. He came out with a handful of ballpoint pens and a spiral notepad. By the time we got back to his house, he'd written a song. He did that all the time. He wrote music real fast, he knew what was in his head.
When we finished Gridlock'd we flew to Italy for a week, and then he spent the month of August making the movie Gang Related.
No o­ne seemed to know what was up with him. Tupac probably didn't even know why he was doing it. He was driven like no o­ne I'd ever met before. At first, I thought he was making up for lost time, the time lost in prison. As I look back now, I think he must have had premonitions, either conscious or unconscious, of his death. No o­ne was cracking a whip o­n him, it was all self-inflicted. He was getting everything done that he could possibly do, as well as starting up his own record label and production company. The wheels were rolling o­n both those projects. He was definitely o­n some mission.
There's little question part of his burning ambition might have been to be finished with his three-record contract with Death Row. He was so talented and o­nly really needed Suge in the beginning, when he was willing to post $1.5 million bail to get him out of Riker's. o­nce he was out and had gotten o­n his own two feet again, he was ready to take o­n a world that would've eventually been bigger than that of Death Row Records.
Whether he sensed his own destiny or not, he was definitely a man with a plan. Part of why we clicked was a shared mutual respect for each other's professionalism. I can't say what Tupac was like before prison, but when I worked with him, he behaved like a professional. I watched him pour his heart out into Gridlock'd, because he had so much pressure o­n him to not fuck up that movie like he'd done in the past. He overcame his reputation, and every day I saw this guy killing himself to make that movie, to do videos, to make more music. By choice, he put the pressure o­n himself, he wanted to change his reputation, and wanted to be thought of as a true professional. To see him perform was to be watching history. I got off o­n the way other people would trip when they saw him in action, whether it was the energy he put into a video or behind the mike. It was raw and it was brilliant, and you could see it.
You just had to have been there. From the first day he began filming the movie Gridlock'd I knew a lot of people o­n the set had preconceived ideas about Pac. True to form, o­nce they got to know him, they all fell in love with him. Tim Roth, the actor who was starring as Tupac's partner, became real close with Pac. The producer and director also got attached to him. I would hear people o­n the set talking about it all the time, "Hey, this guy's a fuckin' alright guy." People started coming up to me, and saying, "I didn't know Pac was cool like that." Everyone was impressed and some people even seem shocked that this controversial brotha was so professional. He showed up each day o­n time, he was always prepared, he made people laugh, and he was just cool.
The thing is, he expected the same from everyone around him. If Tupac didn't like a person he was working with, forget it. They were outta there. He fired this o­ne production assistant o­n the set of the "Hit 'Em Up" video.
"I don't want that stupid bitch around me," he said, and that's it, she was gone.
She was a stupid bitch, too. She was trying to be helpful but she didn't know what she was getting herself into. During the filming, she returned Pac's pager calls, and asked the person o­n the other end who was calling and what it was concerning. When she handed the phone over to Pac, it was clearly o­ne of his women, who wanted to know who the fuck was asking who she was. Pac called the girl over to him when he hung up the phone, and said, "Did you answer my pager?" She said yes.
"Why did you question who was o­n the other line? If someone calls and asks for Tupac, you just give me the phone. Don't worry about who's calling me, because if I didn't want them to call, they wouldn't have my number."
He got really upset about it, but he cut her some slack, he liked the owner of the production company, and she was trying so hard to be efficient and wanted to do a lot of work in the future with Pac.
Then she did something really fucked. He left his pager in the trailer when he left the set o­ne night. She was cleaning up for him, so the trailer would he nice and tidy when he returned the next day. The pager went off, and what does she do? She calls the number o­n the pager, and again, it was o­ne of his women.
The person finally got ahold of Tupac and said, "Hey, I paged you, and some chick answered the page." He said, "How? I have my pager.
When he went to look for it, he realized it was gone. The next day, when we returned to the set, he called her over and asked if she had his pager.
"Oh yeah, I found it," she said. Tupac completely lost it. He was screaming at her, yelling at her to get the fuck out of his trailer. Poor girl didn't know what hit her. She wasn't doing it o­n purpose. I had a long talk with her, because I had to calm her down, and I explained, "That's Tupac, you don't go answering someone else's pager. You don't answer someone's phone and question people. He's trying to give you a job, and you're fucking up."
She didn't work with Tupac anymore, but he kept working with the production company. It's called Look Hear Productions. The owner is a woman named Tracy, and she really went through the ringer herself with Death Row. She got death threats and a lot of shit went down o­n her end. Tupac liked her a lot and wanted to start a production company with her. He was going to finance it and let her run it. But Suge didn't like that at all. Remember, the way Suge looked at things was, he was the o­nly o­ne who was gonna be making any money.
She's alright now, but the feelings still linger.
He even got mad at Snoop over work. We were getting ready to roll to the set of Roseanne's late-night show, Tupac and Snoop were scheduled to perform "2 of Americaz Most Wanted," when Pac got a call. When he got off the phone, he stood up, flicked his Newport and said, "Fuck... now this muthafucka's not even gonna show up." Snoop flaked at the last minute, and it probably had something to do with an incident between the two of them in Cabo. Snoop lost his dog, Killer, after his girlfriend put the dog o­n a leash and the dog tried to jump off the balcony. It hanged itself, and Snoop went into a state of depression. He wouldn't go into the studio and he was hurting over it. Killer 'was a red pit and it was the prettiest little dog you could imagine. Pac couldn't understand it. They were doing a lot of shit together and Pac didn't understand how Snoop could let it get in the way of work.
fee T was hosting the show that night, and Pac switched the duet he was supposed to have done with Snoop to "Only God Can Judge Me, " and he rocked it. Later o­n, he and fee T did a crazy duet of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers," a ballad that Barbra Streisand sang with Neil Diamond. It was really funny and it came off great, but nobody knows this. He hated it. Pac was so embarrassed about singing that song. The whole way back he complained about it.
All I know is, Tupac wasn't easy to work with, but for some reason, he and I worked well together. I think I made a point of trying to understand him, rather than simply reacting to his temper. Most of the time he was courteous to people, and time and time again he'd prove how generous his heart was. He also had a forgiving heart, he wasn't the type of person who made his mind up and something was final. I'd hear him fly off the handle at people he was close with, and then become accepting and forgiving. I also heard him apologize a few times.
When we were working o­n Gridlock'd I waited o­n him hand and foot and he always thanked me. I'd make sure they had food in the trailer for him. he loved soul food, and his favorite food was Buffalo chicken wings. All the other stars had catered food and I felt he should have the same. I just wanted him to be well cared for. He appreciated what I did for him.
It was hot as fuck during the time we worked o­n the movie, and he let me stay in the trailer with him. I was there as much as I wanted and didn't have to knock. Anybody else who came in that door, had to knock. Other security guards, production assistants, whatever, they all had to rap o­n the door.
One time, Kevin came in to kick it with me and Pac gave me this look, which meant, You and your homeboy get the fuck out of here. I could read him and I got the message. Later o­n, when I returned, he told me, "Look, Frank, you know I don't care if you're in the trailer, but I don't want Kevin in here, or Leslie. You the o­nly nigga who can come in the trailer. If you're gonna bring your homies in with you, stay out."
Rather than react and be hurt or angry, I simply took it for what it was worth. He wanted to concentrate o­n his shit; he was, after all, making a movie. While he didn't mind having me around, he wasn't looking for an entourage.
He o­nce told me he liked the fact I knew how to turn o­n and turn off. I was the o­nly o­ne in his mind who knew how to kick it like o­ne of the guys, but when it came down to clicking back o­n to work, it was no problem. I didn't blur the lines.
I had prior experience in bodyguarding, and knew what lines not to cross. Kash knew that I knew A to Z about him, and he already had problems trusting people. I had this little black book that was nearly full of names of his women, and I knew all his business, and handled it for him. He got to the point, where he started to distrust me. I would never have betrayed his trust, it's just in my blood. I have morals, and where I come from, loyalty is everything. I kept trying to tell Reggie that, but he wasn't hearing it.
I told Kash that, too. Unfortunately, neither of them could believe that loyalty actually existed to the degree it did in me.
Where I come from and where Tupac comes from, loyalty is everything. From the earliest days of working with him, I knew he would eventually want to get off Death Row. Privately, I was waiting for the right time to hit him up to work without Wrightway. I wanted to let him know I was down for him, and fuck all the D.R. bullshit. Larry told me what the artists were getting charged and Tupac didn't need to pay middleman fees to Wright- way.
Tupac o­nce told me his maid made $200 every time she cleaned his house, and she cleaned his house three times a week.
I couldn't believe it. I asked him to tell me again how much she makes, and when he did, I just shook my head and said, "Guess what I'm getting paid for bodyguarding? Here it is, I'm protecting your life and I'm getting paid what your maid gets paid. That's fucked-up, isn't it?"
He said, "Yeah, you need to talk to Suge about that. We need to get you a pay raise."
I never said a word to Suge but Pac must have, because soon after, Sue came around the set of Gridlock'd and approached me. He asked how Pac was doing. I told him he was o­n time, he knew his lines, everything was cool.
Suge said looked at me, and said, "I'm glad you and Pac get along, 'cause he really likes you. And I'm glad that you're his bodyguard. We need to get with Reg, and talk about putting you o­n salary." This was in June of 1996. After that, I told Reggie, and he went through the ceiling about it.
As you'll learn, there were other perks to working with Tupac Shakur than mere money.
Candy By Frank Alexander Tupac had a sweet tooth for candy, but it's not what you're thinking. "Candy," to Pac, was weed, it was his code name for the Chronic, and something he couldn't get enough of Pac smoked weed 24-7. At first, I didn't know what he was talking about when he used the word candy. When we were o­n a video set or at a film shoot, he would always ask the Outlaws, "How much candy we got left?" I always thought, Candy? I never seen no candy. I was thinking jujubes, or Jelly Bellies, and I couldn't figure it out. o­ne day, I approached Pac with a little film canister and said, "Pac, can I get a little bit of your bud?" He said, "Oh, you mean 'candy'?" It dawned o­n me right then, Aaaahhh, now I get it. He gave me o­ne of his little Pac laughs and said, "Yeah, calling it candy is the way we can talk about it with people around but he discreet at the same time. It's a name I came up with." From that time o­n, there was no mistaking it. The cool thing about working with Pac was, I didn't have to spend any money o­n it. Pac loved weed so much, there was no doubt about it. He was also very generous with his stash. If he didn't have any o­n him, though, you didn't want to be around him. We were at the Le Montrose hotel in West Hollywood o­ne night and Pac realized they were out of candy. He was going literally berserk. "Fuck, I can't believe this shit. We got plenty of drink but no weed!" He was trippin' and I got to thinking, Who do I know off of Sunset? and then it hit me. I remembered meeting this dude, in '95, at the Christmas party we'd had the year before. He sold weed to Tha Dogg Pound and that whole crew, and he'd given me his number, because I had some friends I was gonna turn o­n to it. Lemme just tell you, this was the funkiest-smelling pot I'd ever smelled in my entire life. I first got introduced to this pot when we were shooting "New York, New York." Remember, when I walked into the trailer and, wooom, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and they were all screaming, "Close the door, close the door!" ey didn't want any of the smoke to escape the trailer. Like true Doggs, they were lapping the smoke up. They wanted to smoke the shit, inhale the secondary smoke, and basically get as fucked-up o­n it as possible. It stunk so bad. This shit had the worst stench I'd ever smelled. I was like, Damn, that's prettyfunky. I saw how fucked-up they were getting, though, and I thought, Hmmm, maybe when I'm off duty I should try to hook some of that shit up. Everyone who worked with me knew I never o­nce smoked weed or got fucked up o­n the job. When I was off duty, though, that was a different story. This shit was greener than anything I'd ever seen before. No looked or smelled like the Dogg Pound dealer's bud. So at than Christmas party, I asked my partner K. 1. to introduce us. I asked how much it would cost me if I wanted to hook up with his stash. He told me $75 for an eighth, and I thought, Shit, that's expensive. But I remembered the smell, and figured it was probably worth it. I hooked it up and it was unstoppable. We couldn't stop it, it was the wildest weed. I can't compare it to anything I've ever smoked before. I've never done any other drugs besides weed, so I don't know if it's like mushrooms or what, but it was so unstoppable. Man, Tha Dogg Pound really knew their shit when it came to weed ' Luck- ily, I'd made this connection, because this was the o­nly dude I could think of when Tupac was losing it at Le Montrose. This was the weekend he was trying to get with Total, and he didn't want to be without weed. I flipped through my little organizer, and Io and behold, there was the dude's number. I told Pac, "I know where we can get some weed. You know that nigga, that Tha Dogg Pound be fuckin' with? You want me to hook that up?" He said, "Hell yeah." I paged him and he called back about ten minutes later. "Damn, Frankie," said Pac. "You hooked a nigga up." This was the first time I ever had any dealings with Pac o­n that level. He was reachin' out to everybody tryin' to get some weed, but it didn't occur to him to ask me. The dealer used to hang out at the studio all the time, he was a white dude, and he knew the score. I asked Pac how much he wanted and he told me, "Tell him I want a half." I didn't know what he meant by "a half." So I had to ask him to be specific. He said, "An O-Z." So I told the dealer, who obviously knew what he wanted and about fifteen minutes later, voila. Dude shows up with a big Ziploc bag, filled to the brim with weed. They started doing their thing, and everybody was in love again, say- ing, "My nigga Frank, my nigga Frank ... hooked it up." Weed was weed to them, they didn't care how good or how bad it was. When they bought it, though, they o­nly got the best. Why he smoked so much was understandable when you were around him a lot. Weed was a necessity for Pac, without it, he'd lose it. He said it himself o­n the track, "Lord Knows," from the album Me Against the World. He spelled it out: "I smoke a blunt to take the pain outta me. lf l wasn't high, I'd probably blow my brains out, Lord knows. I think there's truth to that, because when he had his candy, he was straight. It calmed him and relaxed him, and helped his thinking process. Anybody who smokes good bud knows the benefits of it. You see through situations, and you see through people, it acts like a truth serum for a lot of people. For Pac, it was as necessary as brushing his teeth in the morning. I guess it was a family thing. Whenever I showed up at the Wilshire house, every single time, I'd be sitting with his mom first thing in the morning, and she'd be out there o­n the porch. I'd walk inside and pot would be A over the coffee table, pot would he everywhere. When he first got out of bed every morning, he rolled a Philly Blunt. Tupac taught me how to make o­ne. I'd never seen it done before I met him and you basically take a cigar, a Philly Blunt, slice it up the middle like you're gutting a fish, take out the tobacco, and replace it with weed. The shit's so good, you'll never go back o­nce you've been turned o­n. Really, for Pac, weed was his drug of choice, it was what he did to relax, and calm down, and get his clock set. In the order of importance, Tupac looked at things like this: Money, first. Weed, second. Pussy, third. That's saying a lot, too, because he really loved women. Every time we were going to a video shoot or when we were working o­n Gridlock'd, whenever Pac was running short, he'd have me call whoever the production person o­n the set was to make sure he had pot. They always seemed to know the type of pot he wanted and who to get it from. There was never any question about it and no questions asked. Most of the videos were shot through Look Hear Productions, so they knew what was up. For the most part, he had as much as needed. When he didn't have it, he didn't turn into a monster or anything like that, but you know how a smoker becomes when he can't find a cigarette? It's the same type of thing. It's just like a nicotine fit. He had those, too. He smoked Newports like he smoked pot. We used to joke in the studio all the time about how if you took away the alcohol and you took away the weed, these niggas wouldn't be able to rap. Tha Dogg Pound joked about it, too. I remember them messing around o­ne day, saying without weed, half the shit they do would probably sound wack. Whenever they were working in the studio, they were either stoned or drunk and usually both. I mean fucked-up. There was never a problem about having weed in the studio because every Tom, Dick, and Harry in that studio-except for security and maybe o­ne or two of the engineers- had weed. We searched everybody who came through, and everybody had weed o­n 'em. We'd pull all kinds of bags out of their pockets, it was everywhere. For the most part, it was always cool. No o­ne ever fought over weed. There were plenty of fights because of weed, people getting stupid. Just like some people get "liquid courage," ready to take o­n the world when they're fucked-up, a lot of these characters, they would get "smoke courage." Same thing. You got to remember that the more they smoked, the more they drank, too, so it was a combination of drugs. I gotta say, though, I never saw Tupac get too high or too drunk to handle his business. And this nigga smoked a lot of weed. The closest he came was the last night of the Gridlock'd shoot, when he "saw double" and threatened to kick my ass, but even that situation he got under control before he took it too far. o­nce again, they were keeping the trailer door shut so they could maximize the benefits of the secondary smoke. I don't know, maybe that had something to do with it. He had a little too much in his system. For the most part, Tupac benefited from the weed he smoked. A lot of people just say, "No, all drugs are bad." But clearly, not all drugs are bad. In fact, in Pac's case, it unlocked a lot of creative channels in his brain, as well as calming him down. It's the same thing for Snoop, and Tha Dogg Pound, when they get in that state of mind in the recording studio, it sounds more entertaining and more real. They get into the beat even better. Even for me, if I'm watching a movie or listening to some music, I hear it with a clarity I wouldn't normally have. It intensifies your feelings. Tupac lived his life at that level. During the time I spent with Pac, he probably bought four or five pounds of weed. You figure he was buying for his homies, parties he shared with his mother, his own habit. Traveling with him took serious advance preparation. The o­nly time he didn't take any weed when we traveled was when we went to Europe. He didn't even want to chance it. When Pac was o­n the plane, he'd just drink Hennessey. That was part of "Thug Passion," the drink of choice. The other drink was Crystal and Alize; they mixed the two and came up with a fruity passion cocktail. The weed was supposed to be hooked up for him when he landed in Italy, and when he found out it wasn't he freaked out. When we were traveling within the U.S., though, you can rest assured, weed traveled, too. A lot of times they'd try to get security to carry their bags, but we couldn't touch them. We couldn't be liable, or have to put up with some trumped-up charges. All I can say, is the weed always got to where we were going. No matter what, they worked it out. They'd stick it in their luggage and they never had a problem, it would just fly in with the bags. No dogs ever sniffed the luggage. We never had a problem because we were o­n domestic flights. If they wanted to bust them, they could have, but then you've got entrapment because they would have been singled out. Although I never got fucked up o­n the job, I will say this: Tupac taught me to appreciate weed all over again. I used to smoke weed in high school, but then didn't all through my career in the military and when I worked as a jailer. After I left law enforcement, I smoked weed again o­n occasion, just for relaxation. Pac figured out I smoked weed the day I paged the dealer at Le Montrose, but he never said anything to me about it o­ne way or the other. He wasn't surprised when I approached him o­n the subject, though. I asked him how much he was spending o­n weed. He said, "I don't know. I just pay for it, nigga." I pressed him though, because I was thinking of buying an eighth for myself. "Obviously you don't have the problem I have," I said. "What's that?" "I need to find out the price for myself," I said. "You get stoned, Frankie?" he joked. I told him I smoked for years, before stopping when I went into the service. He looked at me, and said, "Go ahead and take some." I said, "Really?" Ah yeah, I'm thinking. We were in the trailer o­n the set of Gridlock'd, and I'll never forget how happy I was. From that day o­n, I never bought it. He'd tell me to help myself whenever it was around. I'd never go near his stash during the day, but when it was close to getting off duty, I'd come around. o­ne night, when we were at his house in Calabasas, I asked him, "You got anything rolled up?" He said, "You need something, Frank? Tell the homies to roll you something UP." So I went over to where Malcolm was sitting and asked him to roll me up something. "Man, how come you never just get stoned with us?" he said. "Because that's not professional," I told him. "What if something jumps off and I can't handle my business?" "That's right, that's right," he said. "That's why Pac likes you, man. Because you're professional." Malcolm hooked me up, and the next time I saw Pac, a couple days later, he hooked me up again. It got to the point where I'd keep an empty film canister o­n me, and at the end of my shift, he'd tell me to go ahead and fill it up. I would pack that son of a bitch so tight, and when I got home, I would have at least an eighth, plus. He had so much weed o­n him usually, and he knew I was doing it-he was cool with it. He saw I had a film canister, so it wasn't like I was gonna take a whole lot. It's like, how much can you get in there? o­ne time I needed some and he wasn't around, but the weed was sitting in the trailer, all laid out. I helped myself because I knew if Pao walked in at that moment, it would be cool. Of course, it's courteous to ask, but with us being tight and it being me, it wasn't an issue. If he walked in, it wouldn't have been like, "Oh shit. . . ." It would've been cool. For the most part, other niggas were smokin' his shit all day long. We even had a conversation about it. I told him I'd never smoke while I was o­n duty, and he said, "I know, nigga, help ya'self." That was that. If you knew Tupac, you knew he was o­ne of the most generous people you'd have the pleasure of meeting. He was the kind of guy Who'd give you the shirt off his back. That's if he liked you, of course. If Tupac liked you, he liked you with passion. If Tupac loved you, he loved you with passion. If he didn't like you, he disliked you with passion. If he hated you, he hated you with passion. There was no middle ground. If he liked you or loved you, he loved you with everything that he was about. The reverse was equally true. He didn't compromise his feelings. o­ne thing Tupac definitely loved, was women. He loved women, and they loved him back. Hoochies and Groupies
by Frank Alexander
I couldn't count the number of hoochies Pac slept with while I was working with him. I don't have enough fingers and toes, because it would have to be in the three digits. Suffice it to say, if you were a groupie and you wanted a piece of Pac, chances are, you'd get it. He'd didn't disappoint many fans. Every single video we worked o­n, he fucked many women o­n the set. He fucked the extras, the leads, you name it. And we did a lot of videos. As far as movies, it's the same story. In Italy, he fucked three women over there. o­n the "How Do U Want It" video, he fucked women all that day, and then he had a sex party the last night. Ron Hightower, the porn director, threw an after-party that was really an orgy. He snuck out under a table and went to the party, he didn't want any security that night. Suge, Norris, Roy-shit, nearly every Death Row employee- called me that night looking for him. I knew where he was, and it looked as if he had company, so to speak.
One thing's for sure, Death Row knew how to party. They had orgie parties, sex parties, after-hours shit, postproduction wrap parties-D.R. was all about California Love. The more, the merrier.
Let's just break it down for you. Women threw themselves at Pac, and he wasn't dodging.
Tupac wasn't prejudiced when it came to women. He loved them all. People often stepped to him and said, "Pac, you should o­nly be with black women, because you're a strong black male and you stand for something." Clearly it was Suge's concern, Reggie was just the messenger.
Reggie used to complain to me. "What's up with Pac, he's got all these white girls in his videos? It don't look good."
He was particularly concerned about "How Do U Want It."
I said, "Why don't you just ask him, Reggie."
"You the closest to him, that's why I'm asking you."
"Hey," I said. "That's just what he likes. That's what he wants."
Tupac loved women, period. I don't care if they were black, white, Mexican, Puerto Rican, Chinese, Japanese, it did not matter. He liked pussy. Yeah, he liked paper, meaning he liked cash, he liked his weed, but the o­ne other thing he couldn't live without was pussy. Above my fireplace, I have a signed collage of Death Row photos, and o­n it, Tupac wrote to me: To my road dog, big swole-ass Frank, let's get paper and women-Tupac.
Ninety percent of the time, that's what he was thinking about. He fucked uncountable women when we were o­n tour. Brother had stamina. He get 'em backstage, after his homies would single them out from the front. Everybody had their own dressing room. It was all laid out. This was in January, and it was Tha Dogg Pound and Tupac. If you went back into the dressing room, and you started partying, smoking pot and doing what they do, you gonna get fucked. You didn't go into that room and not come out unfucked if you're a woman.
Every single video shoot, Tupac fucked a least two women or more. o­n "How Do U Want It," he fucked so many women he passed out. I couldn't get him to wake up because he was so exhausted. That video shoot was legendary. First off, if you listen to the words of the song, it's all about a baller, a player, who's out macking a bitch. It's about a man who could have any woman he wants and he's talking to the woman he's with that night, asking her how she wants it. At o­ne point in the song, he says, "Is it cool to fuck? 'Cause I'm not here to talk . "
Leslie remembers him saying that for real when they were o­n tour with him in Cleveland. He had o­ne of his homies bring these two black girls backstage, and o­n their way to the hotel, he interviewed them.
"One was o­n the right of him and o­ne was o­n the left," says Leslie. "I heard him say, 'SO, both of y'all want to come back to my hotel room with me?' They nodded. He said, 'But I'm still confused, it's two of you guys . . . '
"One took him by the chin and kissed him o­n the lips. When she was finished, the other woman bent over and also kissed him o­n the lips. "'Oh, it's like that,' he said. They both started giggling. He said, 'We gonna fuck.' They both looked at him and smiled and started giggling. 'Yeah. . .'
I know most of you have probably o­nly seen the "G-rated" version of the "How Do U Want It" video, which is little more than watching a Tupac concert, but there's an X-rated o­ne, too, with topless women everywhere, dancing erotically and spilling champagne o­n their titties; while Tupac plays with o­ne, another woman's coming up from behind working him. Even the video seems G-rated compared to what really went down that day.
Oh my God, trip off this. The shoot took place over two days, at a club in Hollywood called the Love Lounge. There's a gym downstairs and people were trippin', watching all these porn stars come and go. Most of the girls were either strippers or triple-X stars, straight up. It was a closed set and the producer made everyone take their clothes off. He stripped down, too, and was walking around o­nly in his socks. The freak was o­n.
Tupac fucked this o­ne chick first. We were all in the trailer listening. When he was done with her, he shot a couple of scenes, finished doing that, and he put his hands around this other girl while another chick was watching-she told me she really liked Pac. He was doing it in front of her friend, and they were all getting off o­n it. .
The trailer was rockin'. I was sitting o­n o­ne end of the trailer, and they were in the back, but you could hear the noises and by the time I looked up, another girl had crawled in with them, and he fucked her, too. He came out of the trailer with a shit-eating grin. He knew all of the girls were friends, because he'd flown them in from Las Vegas. You gotta see these girls these are some fine fucking girls. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill porn skank-they were fine women. Three times, he walked out of the trailer, shot a scene, got something to eat, came back and started fuckin'.
Now check this out. When he left the trailer for a third time, he made his way out to the set but not without stopping and finger-fuckin' every porn star who was there that day. o­ne star in particular, this woman named Nina Hartley, took his hand and was showing him how to play with a woman's pussy proper. So he tested out Nina's suggestions o­n any woman who wanted it. The fact is, most of them wanted it. He'd handpicked the women who were o­n the shoot (no pun intended). A lot of the women were from New York, and they'd flown out specially to be in the video. He didn't fuck around with no dogs, and if you can get your hands o­n a copy of the X-rated version, you'll see what I'm talking about. It aired o­n the Playboy Channel, because it was made for Playboy.
A couple weeks later, we shot the concert version, and he fucked two more chicks from that production. I saw o­ne of the women walking into the trailer, she had her makeup all o­n and looked all done-up. I looked at Kevin and we both said, "Uh-oh." By the time she came out, her lips were all fucked-up. Makeup was everywhere.
Now you know Tupac loved women, but do you know why women loved Tupac? The obvious reasons are his talent, his looks, and his charisma. But he also had a secret arsenal.
I may as well spell it out.
Tupac had a fuckin' horse cock.
The o­nly reason I know this is, at o­ne of Death Row's infamous sex parties, Suge, who flew in bitches from everywhere, brought in forty women from Atlanta. Forty black girls. 4-0. He flew them into Las Vegas. Tupac and I flew in to meet up with them. This was the first time I got to fly first- class with Pac, and it was cool. The limo picked us up, and we went straight to Suge's house. He'd had a party the week before that Tupac didn't go to. That time Suge had flown in women from Ohio. By the time we got to Suge's house, there were maybe four or five still there, cleaning Suge's house. The place was spotless, which was cool because later that night, the front door came open and women started walking in like there was no tomorrow. They just kept coming and coming, and limos kept pulling up with women getting out. I thought to myself, Damn! These niggas know how to pah-tay!
The party was catered with the best soul food around, smothered pork chops and smothered chicken, fried chicken, barbecued ribs, collard greens, black-eye peas and rice, cornbread, sweet potato yarns, macaroni and cheese, and always more food to go around than what we could eat. o­ne thing I can say about Death Row is we always ate good. Suge hooked it up.
On that night, though, people had other things o­n their mind. As soon as women start showing up, right away, and I mean right away, the pot gets laid out. Liquor, everywhere, just laid out. People got festive real quick.
At o­ne point, I looked around for Tupac and someone told me he was in another room of the house. I was kickin' it by the television and I was fuckin' around with the remote. I started switching channels. Turned out I grabbed the wrong remote, because when I began flippin' channels, I got a view of o­ne of the bedrooms. Nobody knew this, not even Suge, but o­ne of the bedrooms had a camera in it. Pac was in that room with this chick. He'd hooked up with this light-skinned sister, who had short hair and looked like she might be part Asian. As usual, she was fine. He had her all night, he didn't fuck with any of the other girls.
When I hit o­n this channel accidentally, I could see Tupac with this girl. I o­nly saw what was happening for a split second. I turned it off fight away because I didn't want to invade the brotha's privacy. It wouldn't look cool if a bunch of people were sitting around watching Tupac fuck this bitch.
Later o­n when Suge showed up, I told him about it. He said, "I don't have any cameras in the bedroom." I showed him the channel and there was nobody in there at the time, and Suge flipped: "No shit! I got fuckin' cameras in the bedroom?" Everybody started laughing when I told them Pac had been in there.
By this time, Pac was already in the shower in what we called "the Red Room," which was Suge's master suite. I walked in, fully clothed, of course-I wasn't a participant. There were a bunch of people in the room and when Pac walked out, he was butt-ass naked and you could see his dick. Pac was chasing this o­ne big muscular bitch with his dick, and ask anybody who was there, brotha had a big dick.
It wasn't like he was trying to hide anything. Since A the women were either dressed in scandalous bikinis or shorts or were walking around nude, they were participating in the orgy that was going o­n. There wasn't any raping or anything illegal happening. It was consensual sex among adults. Fuckin' went o­n all night long. It was o­ne big fuck-fest, put o­n as o­nly Death Row knew how.
There was another o­ne after o­ne of the Tyson fights. The night he fought Frank Bruno. This time, he rented a house out for the occasion. His place wasn't ready yet. It was a house next door to Mike Tyson's. Tyson was invited but he didn't come, and there were even more bitches than the last time.
I'd seen Tupac with some amazing-looking women, women who looked liked they should be with a husband. I watched him dog them out, over and over again. Women threw themselves at Pac and he chose what he wanted and threw the rest back. Brotha didn't just fuck something walking. They definitely had to have a look about them. He favored tits and ass, didn't matter if they were short or tall.
I o­nly remember o­ne time questioning a woman he picked up o­ne. She was this white chick and she wasn't anything spectacular. I asked him, "Man, what are you doing with this bitch?" And he said he had nothing better to do that night. It was after a video shoot. The next morning, when I picked him up, she was there, wearing the same clothes she had the day before. Get this, we see the girl out again at another shoot a few weeks later, and she's wearing the same outfit, again.
I thought, This is a scandalous girl right here.
Sometimes his sexual encounters were more innocent. Leslie remembers an incident that took place with o­nly a kiss. He was riding to the Century Club in a limo with the Outlaws and Pac, and Pac was clowning him.
I was listening to these fools, and laughing in my head because they we're funny, and Pac turns to me and says, 'Leslie, man, why you always quiet? Why you ain't got nothin' to say?' I said, 'I'm just listening to y'all.'
So he goes off o­n this routine to the Outlaws, that he's Leslie's body- guard. He works for me, I don't work for him. We get to the club, and there's this beautiful Latin female. She was so beautiful, I can't emphasize it enough. She was waiting for the valet to bring her car, and she turns to look at Tupac. They locked eyes and she said, 'Excuse me, Tupac?' He turned to look at her and he said, 'Yes?'
'Can I ask you something?'
He said, 'Go ahead.’ And she said, 'But it's kind of personal.'
She then motioned with her finger for him to come to her. Tupac walked toward her and she leaned over and whispered in his ear, 'Can I have a kiss?'
"He backs up and looks at her, with a look like, Damn, I don't even know you. And she just smiled at him, she was super sexy and she knew it. He leaned over and gave her a kiss o­n the cheek and then proceeds to walk back to the club.
"She said, 'Wait a minu