Redcon Rising | FitnessRX for Girls


By Aaron Singerman

CEO of Redcon1

This month’s column introduces my upcoming e book, Redcon Rising. The e book shall be out in November, and that is the primary time I’ve shared any of it with anybody publicly.

The concept behind the e book is to teach by way of my story of successes and failures and to entertain concurrently. Hopefully, the e book helps folks to beat their struggles, reach enterprise, and discover happiness by way of the journey.

Dichotomies of My Life



It was a sizzling, sticky, Texas afternoon. A traditional summer time day. Or at the least what handed for my regular.

I awakened dope sick, similar as all the time. Hustled the forty bucks required for my two each day baggage of heroin. Similar as all the time. Climbed into my fifteen-year-old Lexus that leaked oil and steering fluid to start the each day commute to my drug vendor’s home in a Houston ghetto.

Calling it Crimson’s home isn’t fully correct. I imply, he actually didn’t personal the house. He wasn’t paying hire and his title didn’t present up on any mortgage. He was merely squatting in one of many numerous vacant and dilapidated buildings lining Northwest Houston’s Yellowstone Boulevard, most of them small single-family houses accommodating crack homes, playing dens, and brothels – or, in Crimson’s case, all three.

I obtained out of my automobile with out bothering to lock it. As with every go to, I didn’t plan on being inside lengthy. This was a enterprise journey. Apart from, if anybody wished to steal my crappy automobile or one thing inside, locking it wouldn’t stop that.

As I did every day, I walked throughout Crimson’s filth “garden,” previous the light and cracked white paint peeling off the home’s exterior, up the crumbling steps, and knocked. The solar glistening off my head was solely a part of the explanation why sweat beaded throughout my brow. The acquainted however no much less excruciating cramps, chilly chills, and muscle aches hammered my central nervous system with extra depth every passing second. No reply. That wasn’t like Crimson – his dope enterprise was open 24/7/365. So far as I knew, he by no means left this den. Doing so may imply a rival vendor shifting in and taking up his territory. I pushed the door open with a creak. Any lock or deadbolt had way back been punched out.

“Crimson? Hey, man, you right here?” I referred to as out, moving into what, in a not-long-ago period, will need to have been the modest front room of a working-class household. It had since declined right into a sea of mildew, fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts, and drug paraphernalia. I remained largely unaffected by the filth and scent of stale weed smoke and mildew. I used to be used to it. It wasn’t a lot completely different than my very own residing circumstances. Apart from, this one-track thoughts wouldn’t deviate from its sole purpose and objective: scoring medication. I had proven an inherent ability over time to miss something jeopardizing that endeavor.

Crimson’s home had no electrical energy. I’m undecided about water, however that didn’t stop at any given time half a dozen to double digit drug customers, sellers, gamblers, and hookers from populating every stained room. My gaze breezed previous the dirty sofa the place Crimson’s prostitutes routinely sat, by way of the kitchen the place dishes and trash have been piled excessive, and settled on a crooked display screen door resulting in the yard. A shout had come from the opposite aspect of it.

I nonetheless didn’t see Crimson, however both he referred to as out that he was outdoors, or his “girlfriend” let me know that was the situation from the place he was presently conducting enterprise. Crimson was a smallish light-skinned black man, most likely 5’8”, 140 kilos, his orange-tinged hair and freckles chargeable for the nickname. Conversely, the previous (?) prostitute he usually known as his “girlfriend” was my peak and measurement. Round six foot two, near 200 kilos. A number of shades darker than Crimson and constructed nicely – athletic quite than fats. She appeared like she may have been a monitor star in a previous life. Right this moment, solely monitor marks remained.

I discovered my vendor within the rear of the home, standing on the three or 4 rickety stairs main from the again porch all the way down to a mud patch thought-about the yard.

“I would like two,” I mentioned shortly, taking out my forty {dollars} and strolling down the steps. Although I noticed Crimson each single day, there was by no means a lot small discuss. My purpose was all the time to get out and in as shortly as potential. For Crimson’s half, the one dialog he ever tried was when he supplied me one of many disgusting five-dollar hookers he all the time had lounging round. He knew the reply was and all the time can be no, however that didn’t cease him from attempting, extra for leisure than enterprise.

A shriek rang out earlier than he may take my cash. It was the girlfriend. “Motherfucker!” she screamed from inside the home. We each tried to disregard her, however she stormed outdoors and started to stroll down the steps with objective, evidently fairly offended with Crimson. “You didn’t get me no meals?” she screeched at him, coming to a relaxation on the stair above the place we have been making an attempt our transaction. If I couldn’t really scent her, I actually imagined I may. “You didn’t get me no McDonald’s?”

Crimson didn’t say something, barely reacted. Till, like a flash, his proper arm shot out previous me, a pointy jab that linked with the girlfriend’s nostril. “Bitch, shut up,” he mentioned calmly after the punch landed and he or she was doubled over, blood oozing by way of clenched fingers. Crimson went proper again to digging right into a sandwich bag filled with smaller baggies of heroin from which to serve me, and the girlfriend retreated into the home. It was like nothing had occurred; there was no indication this was the primary prevalence of violence between the 2. Crimson and I have been once more alone with the medication and chirping Texas bugs.

As he counted out my baggies, I heard the display screen door slam behind us. He heard it too however didn’t flip round. I appeared up. The girlfriend. Coming down the steps. Quick and offended.

Oh, shitShe’s going to hit him, I believed, most likely attempting to sign Crimson, although I don’t keep in mind for certain. Even so, he needed to know she was there. Nonetheless, he didn’t flip, simply continued pulling out my two baggies. Crimson stood nose to nose with me, his again to the steps, about handy me the products when, all of a sudden, his eyes went huge with shock and ache. A shimmer of sunshine caught my consideration. I appeared down; a large blade was protruding of Crimson’s ribs, up close to his sternum. Glimmering metal, popping out the entrance of his physique. For a second, the 2 of us made eye contact, every attempting to piece collectively what was transpiring. Then, I noticed the blood. It started to unfold throughout his stomach faster than spilled cranberry juice on a kitchen ground.

Crimson dropped the sandwich bag and spun round, greedy on the massive butcher knife piercing his physique. The girlfriend screamed, then ran again up the steps and scampered by way of the display screen door. I by no means noticed her once more. Crimson turned again to me, blood now pouring from his mouth and chest. I couldn’t consider how a lot blood there was. It was in all places. He spun round, frantic, reaching for his again, attempting to drag the knife out. The blood saved flowing, mixing into the filth, producing a darkish, deep, ruddy mud. Lastly, Crimson obtained a maintain of the knife deal with however was unable to drag it out. He continued spinning round and round like a cat chasing its tail. Lastly, he fell face ahead into the bloody mud, touchdown onerous sufficient on the knife that almost all of it pushed xx by way of his again. Blood continued to pool round him.

My mind had a tough time processing what its eyes have been telling it. Holy fuck. All I may assume was, I had no concept there was a lot blood in an individual, adopted instantly by, I have to get the hell out of right here.

I sprinted round the home, again to the entrance the place my automobile was parked. I jumped in and began the engine. However I didn’t put it in drive. I didn’t go away. Not instantly. I needed to assume. Sure, I had simply witnessed excessive violence. However I additionally hadn’t gotten my medication.

My inner thought course of went one thing like this: I don’t know the place to get extra, and there are all these baggies scattered on the bottom again there. Crimson doesn’t want them anymore. I ought to go get these baggies. That’s sufficient heroin to final me for weeks.

I remained in my automobile, considering. What ought to I do? Ought to I’m going again? What if the girlfriend comes again? Perhaps Crimson is ok. Ultimately, I made a decision I couldn’t take the danger and drove off, empty-handed. Any anxiousness stemmed not from Crimson’s demise, however quite the lack of my solely supply of heroin.

The following morning, predictably, I awakened sick but once more. Nonetheless, not my normal degree of dope illness. A lot, a lot worse. I hadn’t had my repair the day earlier than and was slamming headfirst into day two with out injecting any heroin. Withdrawals crippled me. It was going to be powerful simply to get away from bed. And now there was no Crimson to purchase heroin from. What was a resourceless addict to do? I’d ultimately take this lesson with me into the enterprise world, particularly when coping with producers: Don’t put all of your eggs in a single basket.

I used to be mad at myself for not going again the day earlier than. What an fool. I ought to have taken Crimson’s baggie with out hesitation. I’d have forty or fifty baggage of heroin now. Without cost. No hustling, no illness, only a string of carefree days earlier than the provision ran dry. Now another person was going to seek out them. In the event that they hadn’t already. Fuck it, I made a decision. I’ll return now. Perhaps I imagined the entire thing. Perhaps Crimson was simply harm and he’s within the hospital. Perhaps the baggies are nonetheless there. Or perhaps his physique is mendacity within the weeds with fifty baggage of heroin scattered across the corpse like manna from above. Perhaps he’s gone however the heroin remains to be there. A plethora of potentialities, with no concept which was the more than likely. I meant to seek out out.

Sick as a canine, sweating, puking, rife with diarrhea, I crawled into my automobile and took my regular route into the ghetto. Pulled as much as Crimson’s home. It appeared because it all the time did. Perhaps sadder. Extra downtrodden. Perhaps it simply appeared that method. I didn’t care. I knocked on the door. No reply. I pushed it open. Empty. No prostitutes on the sofa. No Crimson. Nobody in any respect. Simply the cockroaches.

I headed for the yard. Warped floorboards creaked underfoot. I may really feel my coronary heart in my throat. What would I discover?

I scanned the yard. Empty. No physique. Barely an indication that something had occurred. May I’ve imagined it? I seen the mud the place he had fallen was pushed round just a little, like somebody had tried to wash it up. I appeared nearer. No medication. Shit.

What am I going to do now?


I used to be aggravated. The papers had been signed for over twenty-four hours, and nonetheless no cash. Vital proceeds from the sale of a minority stake in my complement firm ought to have already cleared and been deposited into my account.

“The place we at? Refresh it once more,” I barked into the speakerphone as my gaze discovered one of many many framed footage of my youngsters dotting my workplace partitions, alongside navy paraphernalia gifted to me by so many pals within the particular operations neighborhood, books, and bodybuilding regalia, together with a Mr. Olympia Sandow trophy I purchased at public sale. Our firm controller, Stephanie, was on the opposite finish.

“The Woodpecker” was what my outdated enterprise associate, former greatest pal, and on the time, co-defendant, referred to as me once I obtained like this. It was meant to be insulting, however I wore it like a badge of honor. The attribute had served me nicely over time.

“Nothing new,” Stephanie reported, exasperated. Everybody anticipated me to be glad, to be excited. Everybody – my legal professionals, my new companions, my staff – all saved congratulating me, asking how I used to be going to have a good time promoting a chunk of my firm that might enable my youngsters’ youngsters to by no means work a day of their lives if I allowed it. Rejoice? I wasn’t celebrating. The cash wasn’t formally in my account but. My dad taught me by no means to rely chickens earlier than they hatched, and till that cash was in my account, I wasn’t celebrating shit.

My cellphone vibrated. A textual content from Stephanie. I opened it. A screenshot of the corporate checking account. It was our new steadiness. The cash had landed. Generational wealth.

I’m not an outwardly emotional particular person. To say the least. Simply ask my spouse on the time, Darielle. The mom of my youngsters. She all the time urged me to embrace my emotions extra, to study to experience them. And she or he’s proper, I ought to. However I hardly ever do. This was completely different. After I noticed that quantity, a wave of emotion rolled by way of me. I couldn’t assist it – I obtained choked up, for the primary time in a very long time. All of the onerous work, all of the sacrifices, the whole lot I’d overcome led to this accomplishment. It wasn’t essentially a “fuck you” to everybody who had doubted me, screwed me over, or rooted in opposition to me (of whom there have been and nonetheless are many), however – you realize what, sure it was. Fuck you.

Rejoice? I went to the gymnasium and educated calves and again. Darielle took our sons to baseball observe. This victory wasn’t simply concerning the cash and safety, although that was fantastic. No, this was about validation. A multibillion-dollar personal fairness agency with a near-perfect monitor document in corporations they backed believed sufficient in what I had constructed to take a position eight figures for a minority stake in it. REDCON1 was my child. An organization I had began from scratch after being thrown out of my earlier one. An organization that my new companions estimated would quickly be value a billion {dollars}.

That stamp of approval was a press release to the world that REDCON1 was particular. One thing I had recognized all alongside.


I used to be consuming discarded meals out of jail trash cans. Me, Aaron Fucking Singerman, the founder and CEO of the quickest rising complement model on this planet, a millionaire many occasions over, utilizing my naked palms to eagerly stuff the scraps different prisoners had thrown away into my mouth.

A month in the past, I had been residing in a mansion on the water with my mannequin spouse and three sons. I had personal cooks, momentary entry to my very own jet, and extra six-figure watches than I may rely. I owned Lamborghinis, Mercedes Benzes, and a Rolls-Royce. However in right here, none of that mattered. Apart from, I couldn’t recall any of it being extra satisfying than this pile of day outdated, mushy collard greens another inmate had half-eaten and thrown out. Reduce-off sandwich crusts and opened milk cartons rounded out the macros for this banquet.

After the feast’s conclusion, I sat in my cell, considering what had simply occurred. I used to be considerably stunned to find the overriding sentiment rattling round my mind was one in all gratitude. I used to be really grateful for the chance to eat rubbish. Grateful to have been in a position to bathe and wash my underwear that day, the primary time in additional than every week. To have briefly left the eight by ten cell I shared with one other inmate after being locked down twenty-four hours a day for over every week because of gang violence in Texas.

I knew it might be worse: At the very least I had meals. Previous to the dumpster unfold, I’d barely been getting fed sufficient to stave off hunger. Positive, my moist underwear might have been hanging subsequent to my head, however quickly they might be dry. After which I’ll have clear underwear. If nothing else, I needed to keep optimistic. Nothing lasts eternally. Good or unhealthy. A sentiment I’ve lived many occasions over in what looks like a number of lives.

Pre-order REDCON RISING at Amazon: more/dp/1955026556

Instagram @aaronsingerman

Instagram @redcon1


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *