Game Over (4 page)

Riding
in his car, I felt empty inside. My long, pig tails swung as I kept my face turned to the window. As usual there wasn’t much conversation. There was nothing to talk about. It was like being with a stranger, the strangers my grandmother warned me about, yet this was my biological father. At nine, I had no choice but to go with him since that’s what my mother had ordered. I talked shit in my head as we drove knowing that if my maternal grandmother found out she’d go nuts on everyone. The last time I had been in my father’s presence was about three years prior. It didn’t turn out too good and after that my grandmother forbade me to go around him ever again. She had no idea my mother allowed him to pick me up.

Although my facial features resembled his, we had nothing more in common. Even at that young age, I understood the rumors about the heroin and his drug usage.
I understood some of the stories I’d overheard about him cheating on my mother when she was pregnant with me. I understood the talk about him being in and out of jail. It scared me to the core. Even though I grew up seeing people in the neighborhood using drugs, to know that your own father was one of them did something to my insides. I rode in silence hoping he’d at least drop me off at his mother’s house like he always did, the few times he picked me up since him and my mother had split for the last time. At least there I would be safe.  

I
t didn’t take long to arrive at his mother’s house, which was also in Brooklyn. It was the only place he knew to take me, getting me off of his hands. A smile slipped from the side of my mouth as soon as the car door opened. It was an opportunity to both get away from my father, yet also play with my many cousins whom my paternal grandmother took care of.

As soon as I stepped inside, the hugs and kisses
flew from my grandmother and some cousins, too. I hadn’t seen them since the last infrequent visit but nothing had changed. The stares began from a few. They were the only family in my age group, but they were way different from me, which made me the black sheep at my paternal grandmother’s house. I’m certain they hated the fact that our grandmother, their caregiver, catered to me when I showed up. It was clear that even without a father in my life, my status differed from theirs.  

With so many deaths and suffrage on their side of the family along with seeing my father in and out of prison, it was abnormal to me.
Life at their house felt like everyone was always grieving, so much turmoil, so much drug use— the exact opposite of my household with my maternal grandmother, mother and aunts. Still in all I commenced to playing, allowing just enough time for my father to disappear again; something he’d do for years to come.   

In hindsight, I can only compliment Damon on his parenting skills. He showed me that all men didn’t just shoot
during sex, become a donor, and roll out. However, things were just about to heat up in our relationship. Summer ended and it was time to get focused on my first year of college. Of course, I hated to leave behind the limelight but I’d promised my grandmother and Aunt Leslie I’d go to Delaware State to make the family proud. My aunt was big on education and spoke about the importance a lot. I knew I needed to make them all proud, especially my mother.

Just like most parents, my mother had big dreams before she had me. They didn’t quite work out after giving birth to me. So she worked for years to bring money into our household; especially since there were no men to take care of the women in my family. She eventually went to school to be a phlebotomist. It wasn’t what she wanted but she was forced to learn that life is rarely about what you want to do. It’s about what you
got
to do. She didn’t want me to have to settle and she knew a college education would be the best way for me to follow my dreams. What she didn’t know, though, was my dreams were revolving around Hip Hop and the entertainment industry. I didn’t know quite where I would fit in. Obviously, I couldn’t rap or sing. But something inside me had me feeling the industry was where I belonged.

My mother would
always beat my head in with how important it was for a Puerto Rican woman to get an education and take care of herself. She’d always preached about Puerto Rican women taking advantage of every opportunity afforded them. I listened and started my first semester. But little did she know her advice had backfired. Yes, I was going to get an education and take advantage of opportunity, but quite differently than she anticipated. I would attend classes at Delaware State but would also attend Hip Hop University, where various rappers and moguls would be my professors. I had gotten infatuated with Hip Hop and planned to graduate at the top of my class. 

4
-
Game 101

After
being around Dame and his glamorous lifestyle for an entire summer, my sense of entitlement had increased. It was bad enough that I’d been spoiled by my mother’s family my entire life, but now I felt as if I deserved the best—nothing less. The gifts Dame showered me with and the “benefits package” that came along with being around him made me want more.

I expected
it.

Craved it.

Was willing to do whatever to get it.

In August
‘97 one of my closest friends, Nikeya, and I moved into our dorm at Delaware State. By then my chest was out and my hips had spread slightly. The “I’m real grown” attitude had taken on a life of its own. Since I’d told my mother that I didn’t need anyone to take me to college, I opted to roll with Nikeya and her father who had a huge truck full of our stuff. After spending time away from home and living like my own boss, I figured checking myself into college was only appropriate. Besides, my mother was on vacation in Orlando.

What should’ve been an exciting time turned sour.
My first foot into the dormitory put one of my famous frowns on my face. The décor wasn’t at all what I had expected. Where was the luxury? It was small and crowded. There were girls everywhere, some of them already eyeballing me. Probably trying to figure out my ethnicity. I got that reaction a lot until people heard me speak. I wasn’t tripping. With Hispanic features and straight hair most people assumed I was mixed until I opened my mouth. Then they wondered about me even more.

While headed to our room,
Nikeya and I noticed the bathrooms. The showers and toilet stalls were lined up side by side with no privacy. I could actually smell piss. My stomach turned. When we finally reached our room and opened the door, the inside was tiny as a damn jail cell. How did they expect two people to live in there without crawling over each other like ants? The closets were tiny so I didn’t have any room for most of my clothes and shoes, some of which still had the tags on them. I also noticed there wasn’t a bathroom or shower in the room. That meant I would have to share the shower with a bunch of other broads. That wasn’t sanitary in my book.

Immediately, I felt like
a downgrade had taken place. I’d gone from chilling with Dame in his plush spot and lavish hotel rooms to
this
. In all actuality, I was there for an education. Living conditions shouldn’t have mattered. I was getting the opportunity to go to college. I should’ve been grateful but I didn’t see it that way back then. I’d grown used to being catered to. I’d grown used to being pampered. At that moment, I knew dorm life wouldn’t work for long.

The first couple of weeks went by quickly. I was homesick and miss
ed Dame. The dudes at the school were alright but not my type. They seemed cheesy. Call me stuck up, but I really didn’t want them speaking to me. They tried but their game just seemed lame to me. I wasn’t searching for a man but life sometimes has a way of making its own rules. What’s meant to be is meant to be.

One day
Nikeya and I were in the cafeteria, sitting at the table in the dining hall with me dressed in expensive gear. I was rocking a Movado watch adorned with a blinged out face, which was unusual for the average college student. But then again, nothing about me screamed normal. It seemed like everyone had a compliment about me, my hair, the way I talked, walked, or how I dressed. One dude named Jonathan tried to use his compliment as a doorway to conversation. Not interested, I shut him down quickly. I guess his pride was hurt because we wound up getting into a heated argument. I jumped chest to chest with him and began to point my fingers in his face, cussing like a sailor. My Brooklyn persona came blazing through. The entire cafeteria watched us. Finally, a friend of his named Paul came over and got between us. He talked me into calming down.

As I said before, I wasn’t looking for a new dude. That was the last thing on my mind. But fresh out the gate, I liked Paul. He was cute and he was different from every other dude at
Delaware State. He reminded me of the type of guys I dated back in New York: nice jewels, expensive clothes and smelled good too. He carried himself thuggishly. It was obvious he had something going on financially. I wasn’t sure if the money was his or if it was coming from his family. Whatever the deal, it attracted me to him. My college plans of not having a boyfriend changed.

Of course
there was an ulterior motive. Shit, Dame, Smiley and others—lots of others—had gotten me addicted to money. They got me addicted to living well. So of course, when I laid eyes on Paul, his pockets interested me just as much as he did. I’m not proud of it but it’s just the way things were.

Paul
and I began talking. He was feeling me just as much as I was him. He eventually invited me over to his spot to cook for him, which I took him up on gladly. I wanted to see exactly what he had going on. He had a nice spot off campus filled with expensive furniture and a refrigerator full of food—every college student’s dream. Anxious to get out of the dorm, I whipped my womanhood on him and practically moved myself into his place, purposely leaving my panties out in the open to mark my territory where the next bitch could see them, a technique I’d learned from Smiley. This all happened in two weeks. I know it sounds dumb. I didn’t really even know this cat. But I was young back then so I was highly impatient and worked mainly on impulse. When I wanted what I wanted, I went for it, rarely thinking about consequences or anything else the future held. The wonder of being young, I guess.

I continued to keep my dorm room. I wasn’t
that
naive. I wasn’t going to be out in the cold if things possibly didn’t work out between Paul and me. I was dumb…thankfully not that dumb. It wasn’t long before Paul’s secret was exposed. He was a drug dealer, a major one. He was hustling mainly back in Jersey every single weekend. Never broke, he had no problems spending on me. So the cash flow seemed plentiful since Dame was spending regularly on me too. I was loving it. And with Paul gone consistently every weekend that gave me time to cheat regularly with Dame. Everything was all good until my mother found out I’d moved in with Paul.

Man, my moms went straight
bananas on me when she found out the news. I mean, she wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. To this day, she still won’t. She’d always beat into my head how important it was to go to college. She didn’t want to see me on welfare and living in the projects knocked up at a young age with several kids like a lot of my friends were. She screamed on me about how most people who grew up in the projects ended up. She wanted more out of life for me and she wanted
me
to want the same.

In the end, my mom was so heated with me, she shut me down. She stopped footing the bill for my education. She refused to pay for books, room and board or anything. She wouldn’t even talk to me
for weeks. It was a jolting reality check. One where you realize you’re really on your own. Still I swore I knew everything there was to know about the world. I thought I had it all covered like most young, foolish women assume. Yet once you have to pay your own bills, you realize you didn’t quite know everything you thought you did. The world gets a little colder, just like me.

For a moment, I had no idea exactly what I w
as going to do. I was in limbo. I panicked. Although I hadn’t really been putting too much time and interest into college so far, knowing that I was in danger of losing it scared me. Quickly, I realized I had to get on my own grind. That was the New York part of me, that hustler mentality. I didn’t want to rely on the money Dame was giving me, that was extra and couldn’t be counted on. I got a job at Nations Bank.

Around this time,
in 1998, things were growing even bigger for Dame and Roc-A-Fella. Jay’s “Hard Knock Life” single was all over the radio and the video was all over BET and MTV. The album was flying off the store shelves. I even heard it blasting on campus a lot. To capitalize on the success, Dame announced the Hard Knock Life Tour, which would hit all the major colleges. My invite came quicker than expected. I said yes immediately, shrugging off my Friday and Monday classes often.

Rebel
, as my mother would say.

The experience of kicking it on The Hard Knock Life
Tour amazed me. I enjoyed riding on tour buses from city to city every night. I loved watching the Roc-A-Fella team performing on stage, perfecting their craft along with the newcomers trying to hold their own. It was like a dream to be a part of the growth and experience. It also gave me a chance to see that disrespectful side of Dame that people talked about often. We arrived at Morgan State with our usual entourage, but the woman in charge said Nikeya and I couldn’t come in with them. I watched Dame transform into the arrogant monster that everyone talks about. “If the girls don’t come in, Jay doesn’t perform.” In hindsight I realize that was just a tactic. Clearly he wouldn’t have stopped the show because of that. He could’ve just pulled out one of those crisp hundreds he often carried and ended the confrontation, but he liked showing his power. I started liking the power and fame too.

Back at
Delaware State I became the focus. The new hype. After seeing me get dropped off on campus by a tour bus, they realized I knew Dame personally. Everyone had millions upon millions of questions. They wanted to know as much about Jay-Z, Memphis Bleek, and Amil as I could tell them. I loved the attention.

There were haters also. Some were jealous but for others, it was deeper than jealousy. It was real hatred in the truest definition of the word. Blacks, whites and even
Latino students swore I was trying to act black. Some got buck, even attempting to clarify my racial status, like I wasn’t clear on my heritage being one hundred percent Puerto Rican. I knew how to handle myself though. Shit, I’d been going through that since my toddler years.

For the record, I don’t
act
black. I act like
myself
. I act like Winter. I just happened to have been raised around black people all my life. I was never raised around my own people so of course I’m going to act like what or who I’ve been always surrounded by. I’ve never gone out of my way to act that way. It just is what it is. It’s just me being me.

Despite all the talk,
Dame and I grew closer on the tour. Of course, since we were seeing each other on a regular basis, we were having sex more often, something I dreaded. But I was definitely feeling like we were going to take the relationship as far as it could go. Shit, I was being extra naive, even thinking eventually marriage. That’s how close we were getting.

There was a downside to it all though. You can’t turn down excitement. Spending so much time on the tour had me craving it constantly like crack or even good dick. Being away from it always made me feel like I was missing something. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies. It had already been difficult enough dealing with college, knowing I truly didn’t want to be there. The tour complicated
that situation. I was missing Friday and Monday classes. I also wasn’t studying and my enthusiasm for school work was diminishing. 

S
pending more time with Dame was beginning to show me a side of him I didn’t like. More money and power had made him cocky and different from the Dame I’d come to know and crave to be around. He was screaming on a lot of people so I’d heard but luckily he never tried the bullshit on me. Still, he started missing my phone calls regularly. He was even getting a little too friendly with other chicks and didn’t seem to care if it affected me. He’d say he wasn’t fucking them but I didn’t believe him. I had no proof though until one night while we were back at his penthouse lying in bed.      

His bedroom door flew open. I just knew it was the police. The crashing sound from the door sent chills through me. Even for Dame
, the macho image disappeared. His expression filled with fear not understanding how anyone could get into such a secured building. I assumed he thought it was the police too. Security wouldn’t let anyone else upstairs. 

“Nigga, I knew it!” some crazed woman I’d never seen before screamed at him from the edge of the bed. “I knew you were cheating, you lying muthafucka!”

Surprised, Dame jumped up and rushed her as she quickly began to make her way around the bed toward me. Strangely, I wasn’t even afraid. For some reason I had the mentality that I belonged and she didn’t. Even after realizing she was the mother of his first born who I thought was still asleep in the room next to us, I didn’t care. “You still fuckin’ them R&B chicks,” she shouted! As she rambled on in a rage, I quickly pulled the sheets tightly around my naked body and jumped up also, ready to whip ass if need be. That is until Dame and I both realized his son was awake and the one who’d let her into the apartment.

Dame
quickly grabbed her and took her from the room. Somewhere in the apartment, I could still hear her for at least several minutes going off on Dame until he finally got her out of the house. That was the first sign that I wouldn’t have him to myself, ever. But the shit didn’t stop there. The same woman called a week later while I happened to be there. Although he went to another room to take the call, Dame put the crazed woman on speakerphone. Once again she snapped on him. This time she threatened to tell the whole Hip Hop industry that he’d had liposuction, which I had no idea at the time if it were even true. She also screamed about recently catching him in bed with some R&B singer—that I’ll leave alone for now.