Game Over (3 page)

But
I felt grown and had the mentality nothing could be done to me. No punishment would stick. How can you punish a jetsetter? She didn’t. She took me to Disney World to grieve instead. As time moved on, I called my own shots just as Smiley had taught me and how my family allowed me to.

I
turned to Nino for comfort and reconnected with him during the early months of ‘97’. I also spent time with my step-father who, I’d just discovered, really wasn’t out to hurt me and my mom. I realized around that time that he really cared. He was an easy-going man who owned a camera shop in Park Slope although he and my mother still lived in the Poconos. He told me not to worry, he was there for me. He also told me to always work hard for myself. I weathered the storm a little better after that, but little did I know, Nino’s entire world would turn black too. Not just his world, the entire world of Hip Hop.

Biggie was shot and killed
out of the blue.

Just like the day of Smiley’s death, that day in March of
‘97 will forever be branded in my memory. Sitting in the Junior Mafia house, we all thought the news coming out of L.A. wasn’t true. We refused to believe it. But eventually, just like the rest of the world, we all had to accept that Biggie was gone.

Nino was crushed
about Biggie’s death. All of the Junior Mafia crew was. The laughter and smiles that had once filled the house on Atlantic and St. James ceased. The good times seemed to have stopped the day Biggie died, and it was like the air had been let out of everyone. I remembered Big as being funny, cracking jokes and having that personality that shined. Biggie was their heart. He was the one who was going to make all their dreams come true and change their lives. Without him, Junior Mafia couldn’t function.

To help Nino through
his loss, I went back to the Junior Mafia house often. During that time, obviously the mood wasn’t the same anymore. The house was always somber and sad. Grown men were crying. Instead of a party like before, it now always seemed like a funeral. Without Biggie’s jokes and larger than life presence, the house seemed empty no matter how many people were there. Even visits from Puffy and Mase, another up-and-coming rapper at the time who dropped by regularly to show support, couldn’t change it. The loss was so huge for Nino that he just didn’t have it in him to try and make our relationship work. It died just like the two people who had meant the most to us.

But Smiley left me with a level of maturity
and savvy that would become dangerous in years to come. I now had an even harder heart than before covered by armor no man could break. Thanks to Smiley, and all of his crafty dealings I’d learned to manipulate my way through life through the eyes of a man.

3-
Schemin’

All I did was party and bullshit around
. That’s one of the perks of living in the Big Apple. But this particular night set the rest of my life in motion. It was still 1997 when I entered a lounge on 44
th
street in Manhattan adjacent to Daddy’s House, Puffy’s studio. A party was being thrown by Sean Combs, P. Diddy or Puff Daddy, as he was called back then. That was before he started changing his name to something new every other week. Dressed in a black Versace dress with spaghetti straps that held my growing figure in place, I waltzed inside like I owned the place. At seventeen my curves weren’t the way I wanted them, but they did the job for someone my age. My hair had just been shaved in the back and cut into a sassy bob that matched my feisty attitude and I had a fresh French manicure.

The party was one of many types that Puffy
, or the preferred name now Diddy, would later grow a reputation for throwing. Lots of NY celebrities were in attendance. Some were big and well known like Mary J Blige, who with her dark shades and hood swagger seemed like she was still just another girl from the Slow Bomb Projects in Yonkers. Others were just beginning to make a real splash like Faith Evans and Lil Kim. Even though neither of them remembered me from the JR Mafia House, at least they didn’t display any diva egos…at least none that I could see. Everyone seemed like family, although not everyone was signed to Bad Boy. There weren’t any overbearing bodyguards and everyone was chillin’ out and mingling. Nino wasn’t there and I didn’t ask about his whereabouts. We’d had our time together, and because of him my love for Hip Hop was born. I thank him for that, but my taste in men had changed. I now wanted a baller.

The party was the perfect
atmosphere for catching a man with deep pockets. It wasn’t stuffy or bougie but more like ghetto fabulous. The broads weren’t stuck up or fighting for attention like groupies. There didn’t seem to be any jealousy. Everyone was cool and my homegirls: Nikeya, Ayanna and Mijiza and I felt like we were a part of something big. Thick as thieves, we had gone to crazy measures getting everyone out of the house. Luckily Mijiza and I were able to pull a fast one and sneak Nikeya and Ayanna out of the house. Mijiza at seventeen already had a baby so like me, we didn’t have to answer too many questions about where we were going. On the other hand Ayanna, who’d been my girl since junior high never really went out too much. Her parents were strict so actually getting out for the night had us pumped.

It
was difficult for me to wrap my mind around that moment. I was fresh out of high school and hadn’t seen too much of the flashy side of the music industry. Up-and-coming hungry rappers from the streets were all I’d rubbed shoulders with at that point. And since Smiley’s death I somehow found hustlers more and more attractive; attempting to replace the lavish gifts Smiley had thrown my way. I missed that life, and Puffy’s event attracted the type of guys I yearned for.

Nino hadn’t
taken me to any music industry events that were even close to being as lavish. It was amazing. I had been given a chance to be close to celebrities even though I wasn’t one of them. The shit was one of the most incredible feelings of my life. That life changing moment came when a tall, slim cat approached me. His lips were full and thick. His smile had a sort of cockiness to it. His swag was one of the most confident I’d ever seen. He was kind of cute, although many people beg to differ. He introduced himself to me as Jay-Z. The name wasn’t familiar at the time. I didn’t know he was the cat who’d just released what is now considered a Hip Hop classic, the album Reasonable Doubt. At that moment, he was basically in the same position as Faith and Lil Kim. He was a new artist trying to make a come up, and I hadn’t heard of him.

After he introduced himself, we
made small talk for a moment and exchanged numbers. And that was that. After several hours of mingling and enjoying myself, my homegirls and I headed home. The very next night, I basically repeated the previous night: more parties, more fun. That’s New York night life or Vampire Life as some cats like to call it nowadays—work and hustle all day, party all night, especially during the summer.

On this particular summer night, I wasn’t by myself. I
had a couple of my babes from Queens with me: Renee, Rosanne and Tina. They were older but crazy and wild like me—products of the hood. They repped Queens
hard
everywhere they went and always made for good entertainment. They knew how to make me laugh. They always made the party even more enjoyable.

Dudes were all over the spot. I mean, there were more thugs up in the place than I’d seen in a while. They outnumbered the females at least 5 to 1. Some of them were hot, others weren’t. And believe me, my homegirls spent the entire night snapping on the ones that weren’t, embarrassing
them to the fullest, and doing things like exposing the girls with the fake bags. Like I said, the people I hung out with were really wild. That’s how we grew up; down for whatever, always keeping it real. They were firecrackers just like me.

Eventually, a dude walked up
to me. Little did I know that meeting him would be a pivotal moment in my life. The guy was tall, muscular and stocky, with a medium brown complexion and shaved head. His teeth were pearly white and unusually straight as if they’d been lined up with a ruler. He was sexy yet cocky, but there was still something different about the way he carried himself. With his white-Tee and iced out watch, he had that rugged New York swagger. Everything he had on attracted me even though it was nothing fancy, maybe because he rocked it in a different way. The shit was sexy.

He introduced himself to me and we spoke for a while. Within minutes, he was making me blush.
That was rare. I mean, the dude was so slick with his words he had me visualizing us together. I liked him right off. But then just as quickly as he’d approached me and started a conversation, he handed me a business card and said he had to go. That was definitely a first. No man had ever given me a business card before, but of course my expression didn’t show that. I simply smiled. Watching him walk away, I stuck the card in my purse.

The very next day I called the number on the card. The phone was answered by a secretary. I asked for
Dame Dash, the name on the card. Quickly, the secretary put me on hold. As I waited, a song played, one that sounded familiar. I’d been hearing it in the streets but didn’t know who the artist was. I looked at his card unsure of how he was affiliated in the music industry. Damon eventually answered. We only spoke for a moment. He said he was in the middle of business but assured me he wanted us to talk. I hung up thinking, ‘whatever!’ Then I got my detective game on.

It was obvious Mr.
Damon Dash had something going on so I decided to do some research. I didn’t want to go in blind if I didn’t have to. Since this was the late 90’s, the internet was still in its infant stages and Google nor I-phones existed, so I had to investigate the old fashioned way…ask around my hood and get my ear to the streets—fast.

The streets always talk, especially if the subject was about one of their own. Come to find out, Mr. Dash was definitely one of their own. Not only him, but Jay
-Z, too. Dame was from Harlem and Jay was from Brooklyn. Both had been well known hustlas in the streets but decided to partner up and start a record label called Roc-A-Fella Records. At that time, the label’s debut album Reasonable Doubt was making noise in the industry. Jay, as an artist, was making such an impact and he’d even appeared on a few tracks with Biggie. The Roc-A-Fella movement was beginning to take shape.

As the summer moved on,
Dame and I went out a number of times and got to know each other. He figured out I wasn’t flipping like most females if he didn’t call often or when he said he would call. Groupie characteristics just weren’t in my blood. Besides, it was difficult for us to hook up because he was so damn busy. Since Roc-A-Fella was just starting, he was heavily involved in promoting and taking the company to the next level. That was a full time job. So we got together when we could. I remember the first time seeing Jay at the office. It was awkward in the beginning since I’d never told Dame that I met Jay first and that we’d exchanged numbers. I showed up with a blank look on my face hoping Jay wouldn’t blast on me, telling the real story. He didn’t. Jay’s reaction was just as bland as mine and reeked slickness. “Oh, you look familiar,” he said to me. I smiled and we both left it alone from there. Yet in the back of my head my thoughts spiraled and I’d joke with my girls later in life:
Damn, I chose the wrong nigga
. Honestly, I’ll admit now that I’m older, although Dame was fly, Jay’s swagger was a little louder, a little more sexy. It’s just that I knew early in life from my experiences with Nino’s crew that the CEO’s and executives made the real money as opposed to the rappers and singers. Who would’ve known Jay-Z would turn out to be King. I could’ve been “King Bey” watching the throne, giving birth to the golden child. Not! Instead, I got Mr. Dash.

Even though no one knows where he is now, back then Dame was getting money—period. He took me places that Smiley hadn’t, like on the set of videos where he and Jay would pop bottles of champagne on boats, have the flyest chicks and attract the jetsetters in the industry. We ate in expensive restaurants with names I couldn’t pronounce, had the best seats at the hottest shows, and always got special treatment at clubs like the Latin Quarters where we were surrounded by security. Jay hosted the party while Dame handled business as usual. I felt like a boss just standing next to him. Dame captivated me with his business moves. He opened up my eyes to new places and another world.

I’d heard a lot in the streets about how Dame was arrogant and would get in your shit if you got out of line. But with me
, I never saw that side of him early on. I definitely never saw him get that way with Jay. Understand that he would let you know he was in charge and that you needed to follow orders, but I think he got a bad rap for his attitude. There were rumors of him being flashy and wild but that didn’t happen much around me. That was for show: the Dame that surfaced in public, to dance in front of the camera or make a scene for reporters. The Dame I knew had his mind on building an empire, blowing up Jay-Z. He was about that cash, which he ran through like water, splurging on anything out of the ordinary, keeping wads of money in his pocket and funding his penthouse in some high rise in Fort Lee, New Jersey. The entire place was laced with mirrors, which was the shit back then. He even had a personal chef. The posh way he lived was
crazy
! It was the type of shit I’d only seen on television. But what really bugged me out was the very first whip I saw him push. In ‘97, the hottest guys in the streets were riding Benzes and Beamers. But Dame took it to the next level. He swooped me up one day in a lavender four-door Bentley. That blew my young mind! I couldn’t relate. And as much as Smiley had taught me not to be a groupie—I was way too impressed. No one in the streets was doing it like that. To top it off, Jay pulled up right behind him in a blue Bentley coupe. Boss!

I was quickly falling for Dame
, but I wasn’t in love with him but with his swag and the way he lived so fabulously. My heart never allowed me to love a man since Smiley’s death. My relationships were about sex only, which I reserved for the select few— those who were financially well off. Dame had the money, he just sucked in the bedroom. I do literally mean sucked. He got off on licking me like a cat licks its newborn kittens. The memory of his tongue slurping in my ear, filling it with saliva still haunts me now. All that nasty wetness made the sex horrible. Still, Dame had that power, paper and the ability to show me things I’d never seen before.

M
y summer turned into a fairy tale. I was fresh up out the projects but got a chance to travel frequently. Most importantly, it felt like I was a part of something, something huge. Roc-A-Fella was growing and I was getting a chance to see it up close and personal. There was nothing like it. It also felt great to see black men getting money and finding success outside of the dope game. That was a huge reality check for me. Since most of the men I’d been around before Dame were heavy in the streets, my mind was conditioned to believe drugs and the streets were all there was for them. I’d even found myself asking Dame if the cars and clothes were
all
coming from music. “Yes,” he’d answer irritated with my questioning. It was hard to believe. I was still too young back then to understand just how businesses were built. Dame was showing me the possibilities of being a business owner first hand.

During our time together, although he gave me as much time as he could,
he was always on the phone, usually about business. There were discussions with his associates about Roc-A-Fella’s next step, such as other artists, movies, endorsements, etc, etc. Even back then, he wasn’t content with just owning a label. He wanted a conglomerate and he was relentless at achieving it.

Most women would have been bored to death with such an ambitious man, especially those as young as I was. But real talk
: it all intrigued me. Watching a powerful man make moves, always having dreams, keeping focused on his vision and never giving up in a cold industry. I loved watching, learning, and being in the mix. I felt like he was a teacher and me, the student. It was because of him, my determination multiplied. His work ethic had rubbed off on me although at the time I didn’t know it. I realize now, he was helping me grow up. Sometimes, I’d get upset since he ate, slept, and drank Roc-A-Fella. With him, it was Roc-A-Fella first and everything else second, including me. Well, with the exception of his first born who was roughly six years old at the time. Seeing him in father mode did something to my insides. It made me wonder why my father was never as involved with me as Dame was with his son, which made me think back to my infrequent times with my biological father.