Game Over (8 page)

8-
Power Move

Like that old song,
“Love Don’t Live Here Anymore,” relationships weren’t a priority for me anymore. And catching feelings for any man was
definitely
out of the question. I had been played and made a fool of by too many of them. Relationships proved to be a waste of time and energy in my book. I just didn’t have time for the disappointment it brought. If anything, I’d grown extra heartless.

It may be wrong to say but after all I’d been through with
the male species, especially in the industry, all they could do for me at that point was pay my bills and occasionally eat me. I was out for self. If I decided to fuck with a man, he would serve a purpose. There would be no love on the horizon. It would be about money and that’s it. Shit, why not? I had to invest in my future, not a man.

Besides myself, all I had love for was styling at that point. It was the first thing in my life that I’d come across and wanted to do every day. It didn’t seem like work because I enjoyed it so much. I threw myself into it, thinking about it night and day. I ate, slept and shitted the craft
just like Dame had done Roc-A-Fella. I hated college so majoring in styling was the only thing there that made attending worth my while. I wanted to be the best at it.

School
taught me a lot about styling but I was learning much more from my mentor, Kiersten. She was actually giving me on the job training and experience, and I was coming along fast. We became good friends so I felt comfortable talking to her about pulling outfits for Foxy Brown. Although Foxy wasn’t a top priority for her, she agreed. Styling Foxy was cool because she wanted the best high end designers like Chanel, Gucci, Prada, La Perla, and Christian Louboutins—this was long before they became popular in the hood.

In 2002 on one of my weekends back in
New York, we styled Foxy for The VMAs. We pulled Dior and Gucci gowns and H Stern jewelry for her for the MTV awards. I had become so passionate about the designers Kiersten worked with.

The situation was super exciting for me. Just being around the hype was like a drug. I loved the feeling. I knew for a fact that this was my calling. I wanted to feel like this for the rest of my life. The only thing I didn’t like was the diva attitudes I came across occasionally.

I quickly learned Foxy wasn’t sitting at the bottom of Kiersten’s priority list simply because her name wasn’t as big as most of her other clients. She was there because of her attitude and how unprofessional she acted. She often showed her ass. I experienced it that night.

For whatever
reason, Foxy was running late. She hadn’t done a fitting. She just assumed she could fit the sample sizes, which was a mistake. She arrived at the hotel just an hour before she needed to be on the red carpet, which was a complete no-no. We had to work hard and fast to get her ready. Shit, it took two hours of trying on clothes just to find something she could fit. The entire time, she complained like it was our fault there was such a problem, when in reality, if she’d done the fittings earlier like she was supposed to, everything would have been all good. While getting her ready, her brother Gavin called. She immediately put him on speaker phone. He asked her who was with her. When she mentioned my name, he recognized me and said, “What up, Winter?”

I had known Gavin from hanging with Fab and my Brevoort crew. He told Foxy he knew me. After that, her attitude changed. Well, it changed
towards
me
at least. When she hung up, she asked me how I knew her brother. I told her and we began to talk. Through the conversation, I discovered she and I had once gone to the same night school in Brooklyn. It always seemed crazy to others that I would attend classes at night even though my grades were on point. But for me it made perfect sense. It’s where all the guys with money hung out, the ones I remained attracted to. I made sure to be there and Foxy did too so we knew a lot of the same people. We began to click. But, it wasn’t quite the same for Kiersten.

I don’t know why or what Foxy’s beef with her was all about.
Foxy yelled and ranted at her, calling her out of her name…she even used the word ‘bitch.’ She treated Kiersten like pure
shit
. She was never nice to her at all. She talked down to her and would make her cry at times. Kiersten told me Foxy even threatened to send her brother to her house to beat her up. Kiersten was super terrified. I had to reassure her that I knew her brother and that she didn’t have to worry. 

When I look at how Foxy’s promising career fizzled so quickly, it was obvious why. Kiersten wasn’t the only person Foxy treated like that. A lot of people caught Foxy’s attitude, some she even physically assaulted. She developed a reputation for it.
Maybe she felt her success gave her the right to dog people and disrespect them whenever she felt like it. I think that attitude played a huge part in her downfall. You can’t treat people like that and stay successful no matter how talented you are.

Eventually, Kiersten dropped Foxy as a client. Although Foxy
and I were cool because of Gavin, my loyalty was with Kiersten. She was my mentor. She got me into this game. When Kiersten left, I went with her. It turned out to be a good decision. Through my time with her, I soon found myself getting deeper and deeper in the styling world. I was learning more, meeting important people and stock piling contacts that could help take my career to a new level. One of those people was DanTan, Head of Marketing for Murder Inc.

I
ran into DanTan around Christmas of 2002. I was with Janine who mentioned to him that I’d started styling. He let me know he was currently looking for someone to style Irv Gotti, Ja Rule and Ashanti. One thing led to another and I got the job.

Excited isn’t a strong enough description of how I felt. There isn’t a word in the English dictionary that can describe it. I found myself hanging around the Murder Inc
. crew and getting to know everyone. They loved my sassy, quick at the tongue personality, and the feeling was mutual. They soon became like family.

My new job demanded a lot of my time so I quit my
banking job in Delaware. I was still enrolled in college but only part-time. Although my interest wasn’t there, I wouldn’t allow myself to drop out. Maybe, deep inside, I knew I wouldn’t be able to face my mother if I did.

By February, I was ready to style on my own. The first Murder Inc
. artists I styled were Ja Rule and Ashanti for Total Request Live (TRL), a show on MTV. It was a Valentine’s Day special one that remains a distinct memory for me today. I was nervous without Kiersten being my first time officially on my own. Although I knew I was ready and had strong confidence in my skills, there was still that part of me that questioned my ability. There was that part of me that said I might fuck up the opportunity. The pressure was on and I could feel it. But I knew I had to suck it up and do my thing.

  I d
idn’t know if I was walking into a mess….or if they’d shoot me crazy looks. Sometimes artist didn’t like the clothes a new stylist would bring them, and I had no clue if my choices would even fit them right. They barely knew me and certainly didn’t know if they could trust my skills. Thankfully, I came through with flying colors.

Working on Ja Rule was a completely different experience from
working with Foxy. Ja was super
huge
at the time. His songs and videos were all over the radio and television but it didn’t seem to be a big deal with him. He was down to earth and treated everyone with respect. He was the type who always checked on others, making sure everyone was okay, never allowing the money or fame to go to his head. And with me, he treated me like a part of the family; one of the fellas.

My career was taking off.
Sometimes I’d make up to fifteen hundred dollars a day. My work was extending even past Murder Inc. with small independent jobs, but Irv and his label were where my heart was. They embraced me like one of their own and I appreciated that. They’d given me a shot at being on my own. Sadly, my success with Murder Inc. caused me to finally withdraw from college. My mother was devastated. She thought I wanted to just party and hang out on the set of music videos. Contrary, my life involved so much more. I had a real career.

Real talk.

At that time, Murder Inc. was one of the hottest crews in the industry. It was before all the legal issues and federal investigations. Irv was handling business and everybody was eating. There were also no egos. No one thought they were better than anyone. Drivers were able to sit with artists and interns sat in the CEO’s office. It was like everyone had one goal in mind. And that was to make and keep Murder Inc. successful. I admired that. And even to this day, my relationship with Irv and his brother Chris is good. Unfortunately, that relationship was almost compromised.

One day, I was styling on the set of the
“Rain on Me Remix” video. As usual, my work reeked hotness. All the brands I’d chosen for my artist were hot and the styles they loved. I’d gotten into a zone at Murder Inc. and my skills were always on point. That day I had to pull clothes for Ja Rule and Irv Gotti. Sometime after the shoot, I got a call from Ja Rule, someone I least expected. He invited me to a party at his hotel suite. Back then, The Inc. was known for throwing parties in their hotel suites. Although they got wild, it was always a family like atmosphere so I figured this one would be no different. I accepted Ja’s invite. A little while later, I got to his suite at the Roni Palace to find no one there but him and his security guard. Now, I’m not naïve by a long shot. And I swear I never rode the short bus, still I stayed. It was obvious that Ja had a
private
party in mind for the two of us.  

I should’ve left right then but I didn’t. Even though he played it off in the beginning, giving me
lame conversation, I felt uncomfortable. In my mind I kept thinking of excuses to leave but I didn’t want to come off rude or snobby. After all, Ja was The Inc’s star artist at that time. He had major pull at the label. One bad word from him about me and I could be sent packing. My job meant a lot to me. My foot was finally wedged in the door. He liked how I had been working so far so the goal was for him to recommend me to others. The last thing I wanted to do was shake things up so I just played along with Ja’s charade and hoped for the best.

Before that night, I’d never really had a physical attraction to Ja. He wasn’t ugly or anything like that to me. I had just never thought about it. But as we were talking, I couldn’t help noticing the color of his eyes, the curves of his face, the solid look of his build. When you have a conversation with someone and no one else is around, you tend to notice things like that. There’s an intimacy to
one-on-one conversations.

Against my
better judgment, I ended up staying with him that night. But before that, I told him how I felt about possibly compromising my job situation. I told him I needed my job and the moment had me feeling pressured and uncomfortable. “I don’t get down like that,” he told me, sincerely. “Winter, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” I spilled my guts even more with reasons why I thought it was a bad idea. “Everything will still be all good,” he promised. That all sounded fine but I still didn’t trust it. He also informed me he was married, which was a shocker. I had no idea he was locked down. I’d been around him a lot of times but never heard from him or anyone else that he was married.

As I said before, I should’ve left. I shouldn’t have let things go further.
But he was Ja Rule, the hottest rapper in the game at that time. Countless women were in love with that raspy voice of his and those thug laced love songs he was flooding the game with. I guess I felt like being with him would be a privilege or something. In the back of my mind, there was also the possibility of losing my job if I didn’t go along with the program, despite him assuring me otherwise. I didn’t know what to do.

To be honest,
sleeping with Ja would probably be far from a disappointment. I knew I would’ve had to treat it like a booty call. I had to keep it moving and never let it happen. Those were my intentions. I swear they were. But one influential factor made those intentions extremely difficult…

Ja was hung like
a damn water hose!      

9
-
Puppet Master

L
ife seemed to get more exciting by the minute. My adrenaline pumped from the time my feet hit the floor until the time my eyes shut at night. One event after another, I was there, hanging with Hip Hop’s finest. Older and slightly wiser, I now felt like I belonged. No longer did I enter a room as someone’s date, but now as one of the inner circle. I’d grown more determined, something I’d seen in Jason. He had that same ‘work hard, go hard’ spirit. Thankfully, through Danny, a mover and shaker in the industry, I’d landed another job styling Drag-On, a Hip Hop artist at Ruff Ryder, and more and more business was being thrown my way. Working with Murder Inc. and Ruff Ryder put me in circles that seemed more like a dream than a reality.

Parading through yet another event more changes stared me in the face.
Once again Danny, with his raccoon eyes, presented me with an opportunity that would only add to the highlights headed my way. He managed a few up and coming artist, always had connections and partied frequently. I assume that’s why they called him “Disco Danny”. Danny introduced me to a guy named TC, who was Cassidy’s manager at the time. Cassidy, an up and coming rapper with crazy freestyling skills, had his name buzzing through the industry but he hadn’t had any major success at the time. After meeting TC and hearing him say they were looking for a stylist, I jumped at the opportunity. It was my chance to get in from the ground up.

TC informed me that Cassidy had been signed to Full Surface, which wa
s run by his son, Swizz Beatz. Eventually, I began to work with Cassidy. I liked his outgoing smooth flair. He was a ladies’ man and had a little swag going on so styling him came easy. Plus he came from good stock; somebody had taught him well. His manners were on point, he was very polite, and he knew how to talk to women. We’d do events on a much smaller scale than places my job opportunities had taken me before. There were schools, colleges, and performances at small venues. I even remember him getting booed. But it was a check so I continued, not just with Cassidy but with Murder Inc. as well.

Around that same time I styled
Ashanti for
People
Magazine’s “Celebs Under 25.” I was in my prime: grinding and vowing to make a name for myself in the working world of Hip Hop. I’d walk into the Vivienne Westwood showroom with a letter stating that if anything was damaged the record label took full responsibility and walked back out with over 25 outfits.

 
It all worked way too easily. I felt like a butterfly gaining its wings. The next six months of my life would turn out to be the craziest ever, and a string of events would prove to change me forever. I would possibly even bear a child from one of Hip Hop’s elite.

***

Early 2003, the word came in. Murder Inc. was heading to Miami for the club opening of their long-time friend, rapper and record producer, Benzino. Club Zinos had been the talk of Miami and the industry. At the time Benzino co-owned
The Source Magazine
and was a hell of a connection so like real good friends do—the Murder Inc. family decided we’d all go support. Right up my alley, the planning wheels turned in motion. Some of the ladies around the office and I decided we’d fly out together and room at the Avalon hotel. Excitement filled me as I thought of what to wear and who would be there. I was on cloud nine. Even though I’d traveled around the country often, there was something about Miami that had my spirits in an uproar.

By the time we made it to the airport we were all in party mode. Lexi,
who was signed to Murder Inc. at the time, Sabrina, and Chynae greeted me with hugs. Then I was introduced to Chrissy Lampkin, who is now Jim Jones’ girlfriend. Chynae worked for Murder Inc. and Chrissy was her girl who was tagging along for the party. At that time I had no idea we would have so many similarities or that we were cool with some of the same guys. Chrissy’s reputation proceeded her. I’d heard a lot about her—good and bad. One, that she was the “it” girl, always fly, never dated broke guys and always had the freshest gear. I was in my early twenties so since she was older I watched her flow. She had her Rolie on, dressed like a million bucks and looked good so instead of hating, I figured…if you can’t beat’em, join’em. It was on. We clicked instantly.
Miami wasn’t ready for New York babes
, I told myself, ready to party like never before.

The
moment we stepped off the plane and into the Miami sun, I felt like something new and vibrant awaited me. Florida always seemed like a place I could call home. I had been countless times, and all were great experiences, except for the one where my mother forced me to see my father.

Walking
into that nursing home in Florida annoyed me to the core. At sixteen, I didn’t understand why it was so important for me to see a man who’d never really served a purpose in my life. And how in the hell did he get sick in Florida, a place where my light was able to shine? He had full blown prostate cancer and had moved to Florida with his siblings so he’d have family around to take care of him. My mother felt that his condition could worsen and he could possibly die. She warned me that I would be filled with regret if I didn’t see him face to face. It was my opportunity to tell him how I felt about him abandoning me and my mom. 

That all sounded great…real Dr.
Phil like. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of pity for him. Empathy had never been a friend to me. I had been that way for too long and he was partially responsible. He had poured some of the nasty ingredients into me which made me tick. He helped build the “Winter” that so many people thought was wild, crazy and heartless.

I
walked inside the room and saw him lying in bed. I finally realized where my nose and chin had come from. His eyes were light like mine and my facial features resembled his greatly. I hadn’t seen the man in over seven years. Still there was disgust….a sense of hatred inside. His first words to me ruined it all.

“Why did you cut your hair?”

I looked over my shoulder where my eyes met Jackie’s. I became enraged yet said nothing. This man hadn’t seen me in ages and all he could think to say was some slick comment about my hair. He’d missed every graduation, every Christmas, my high school prom…and the list goes on. Even though I knew he was ill and the goal was for us to talk out our differences, I sat there stone-faced for the rest of the visit. I didn’t say two words to him then and refuse to say two words to him now. That was unfortunately the last time I saw my father.

I drifted back to reality when we pulled up to the hotel. The Avalon was gorgeous and immediately sent my mind
back into party mode. Chrissy, Chynae, Lexi, Sabrina and I checked into our room and began our weekend extravaganza. We got to the club and realized Benzino’s party had to be the party of the year. From the dance floor to the bar, the room was packed and the music played at its highest level—the type of beats that could burst your eardrum. There were plenty women in attendance, but us New York girls got most of the attention. The number of bottles purchased for us seemed insane. I lost count. Benzino had really hooked us up. Dressed scantily in my best, my C cups sat up straight looking as if they’d pop from my all black dress. There wasn’t really any female competition. All the competition had come with me from New York. It didn’t matter though, there were no guys that I wanted to get with. There had been too much bullshit with niggas by this time in my life.

Everyone important to Murder I
nc. showed up including Noreaga and Fat Joe. Of course Irv graced the place. And even Ja Rule showed up. Seeing him always sent me into strategy mode. I assumed he would try to take me back to his hotel by the end of the night, which I would decline again. Since our one and only encounter he’d hinted at hooking up again several times. Each time I declined. I’d grown comfortable in my own skin, not really afraid of losing my job. Besides, he was married and I didn’t see him as my lover. So the answer for hooking up was always no- no- and no again. Contrary to what some people may have thought, I’d never been into breaking up happy homes. The advances kept coming….but I do have morals.

That’s probably why I wanted to spaz out on Jason when he showed up to the club. Somewhere over the course of the last year he’d switched up on me. In public he would throw me shade like we didn’t really know each other the way we did. That night was no different. I saw him from across the room. The music thumped loudly so I didn’t expect him to call out my name but a fist pump in the air,
puckered lips, a smile or any type of sign of recognition would’ve worked. He didn’t do it and neither did I. 

I turned my attention back to my girls who were in straight party mode.
The club atmosphere was rocking by this time and the music had gotten good to us. It was noticed that none of 50 Cent or Jay-Z’s music played at Club Zino’s that night. Their music was needed and missed. At the time Murder Inc. and 50 Cent had a major beef and Jay-Z was on tour with 50 cent, which meant Benzino wasn’t tolerating either artist’s music to be played in his club.

While joking about that music issue a fine specimen of a man
dressed extremely well walked up to me and introduced himself as one of the Murder Inc. producers, Chink Santana. Once I got wind of his name my heart thundered just a bit.
Beatmaster
, I thought, almost infatuated. His name rang throughout the office and I realized that I had seen him around a lot. We’d never been formally introduced since he was Murder Inc.’s secret weapon. Set-up like a ghost producer, he created the hot beats we all loved from that era. Most people never knew that Chink had put his magic touch on all the big records like “Baby, Baby Baby” and “Thug Lovin.”

 
All I knew was that he’d gone to school for music, was very talented, had an ego the size of Mount St. Helens, had lots of money and was originally from D.C. I could tell by the way he was dressed that the dollars were rolling in even though he didn’t have the popularity of the rest of the family.

As the night progressed, w
e kicked it for a while in the club, him feeling me and vice versa. He had become my magnet, with me loving his style. His charisma was off the meter. By the end of the night we swapped info. I figured no harm, he was one of us...maybe we’d hook up back in New York. He told me he’d be in Miami for another thirty days. He said he was there to record Ashanti’s album.

When I told him I was leaving the next day
he asked me to stay with him.

I couldn’t believe those words.
But he was real, he didn’t want me to leave. He said it so sincerely.

Thoughts flipped through my head quickly. Where would I stay? Who from Murder I
nc. would find out? Would word get back to Jadakiss? Even though we weren’t in a committed relationship I didn’t want that. We hadn’t been seeing much of each other lately but rumors traveled quickly in the music biz.

I told him, I had to
go home to make money, letting my tone make him understand that if I missed money by staying with him he’d have to replace it. He assured me real sexy like that he had me, so I stayed.

I
told him I was a stylist. But none of that mattered to Chink. He put the pressure on me; heavy pressure, executing all of his smooth talking skills. The attraction to me seemed strong. He damn near begged.
Here we go with this music industry shit
, I told myself. But when he promised to send me home if I didn’t like staying with him that was the last straw. “I’ll put you on a plane whenever you’re ready to go home,” Chink ended. For some crazy reason I agreed.

My new
Miami life consisted of mini-mansion type living. Waking up to champagne, exquisite food, and good sex—it all had me in la la land like the grind was over. Just imagine waking up and able to go for a swim in your backyard that was adjacent to the beach. Nothing like it! I’d been accustomed to spending my days scouting out the next styling gig for some record label. I always had to hop in New York City cabs or pay ridiculous parking prices just to make moves in New York. Now I slept with the producer who created most of Murder Inc.’s hits in a fabulous house in Miami. That was the life!

We
shopped constantly marching through the Bal Harbour Shops. And since I moved in with Chink with literally the bag I’d left New York with, new clothes were needed daily. He bought it all, no questions asked—Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue, and every store Miami had to offer.

It seemed like a fairy
tale until the real Chink made an appearance. It’s crazy how something can look so good on the outside but be real foul on the inside. It didn’t take me long to realize Chink had come from nothing and the world of Hip Hop and his celebrity status had affected him in a negative way. Others had warned me that Chink was a womanizer. Soon, I got a whiff of it. He talked down to everyone around us, often times trying me too. But my mouth was fire…ready to pounce back on him when he tried. Somehow he felt entitled like everything had to go his way. Everybody was a ‘bitch’ to him. Bitch this and bitch that! He used the word like a pronoun, dishing it out every chance he got. It turned into a level of disrespect I hadn’t experienced with Murder Inc. Although Ja Rule had his flings, he was totally respectful, always considerate of others so since they came from the same culture and climate I expected the same from Chink. Nah! His ego was insane.