"Shady Bizzness: " Life as Eminem's Bodyguard in an Industry of Paper Gangsters" (6 page)

The only common ground they had was their daughter, and any
other time they dealt with each other, they were literally fighting. He
married her at the end of June during the first tour, for what reason I do
not know, because if you don’t get along in the first place then you only
make the problem worse if you get married. The tour had taken its toll on
him because he realized that Paul was keeping him so busy—in order to
keep his own pockets fat—that he didn’t have time to see his own daughter.
This is how I opened up the conversation with him. I said, “Look man, I
know we have this second European tour coming up, but I am burnt out,
man. I can’t do it. ” He didn’t take that too well at all, but I didn’t care.
I said, “This is off the record, but my marriage is suffering, and my kids
need me. We are both good fathers and everything, but we don’t even
have time to see our children. I can’t do it. ” I said, “My son just asked me
who was going to protect him while I was protecting Slim Shady, and my
answer to that was God. He didn’t want to hear that though, because all he
knew was that he wanted his daddy home. I tried to explain to him what
my job was, but he was convinced that I worked at the airport because that
was always the last place where he saw me when they dropped me off. ”

My family’s needs were returning to being top priority over my
personal goals—it was just going to take longer than I wanted for my
group and label to get off the ground. But I realized that I already had
everything that I had ever dreamed of in my family. Some people think
that money is the key to happiness, but you can have all the money in
the world and still be miserable. Look at Slim—he has money, and he is
the most miserable man I know. I told him that I needed to get my house
back in order. That I needed to be with my family and that they needed
me there. Slim probably didn’t understand that because he was newly
married, and I knew that as soon as Slim married Kim that it was going to
be a mess because she was a bitch. I mean, look in the dictionary under
“bitch” and you’ll see a picture of Kimberly Scott. Anyway, I weighed the
pros and the cons of my being on the road and doubted that it was even
worth the trouble for me being miserable, underpaid, and away from my
family. I was looking at Slim and I said, “Right now, let me be honest with
you. Right now, you have no life. I know you want to be a better father than
your father was to you, because you didn’t even know your father. Straight
up, you are already that because you acknowledge your daughter and you
are out here working so that she doesn’t have to work a day in her life. But
Kim is your downfall. She is holding you back, and for some reason you
can’t let her go. But right now, in my eyes, I have more than you do. I have
a wife who supports me, I just bought a house, I have two nice cars, a nice
job, and I had all of this stuff before I met you.You, Slim, you just sold two
million plus records, and you are living like you are still washing dishes
at Gilbert’s. Man, you got to stop that shit; you have an image to uphold.
I’m not saying that you got to have everything iced out, but damn! You got
that truck that she is driving, so you might as well give it to her, plus it’s
got that big-ass dent in it that you haven’t had fixed yet.

“When you go home, you are staying over at her mom’s house,
sleeping in a fucking twin bunk bed with Kim on the bottom and you
on the top. Man, you are living like you are poor! She wants you to get
her this apartment? Man, fuck that! What about Slim? No, fuck that, too!
What about what Marshall wants? You need to get you something and
stop living like you are poor, man. Stop living like you are a fucking bum!”
That is one of the few times that he and I were on the same page—both
frustrated and both needing to get our homes and relationships in order.
I think I was the first person who talked to Slim about those things on
that level, and he really got on Paul’s back. Slim said, “I don’t give a fuck
about the money! Cancel this European tour!” He really tried to have it
canceled, but with Paul being greedy, he wouldn’t do it because it would
affect his 20 percent. That was the first time I saw those two at odds. Slim
got on Paul about keeping him so busy he didn’t have time to do shit. But
Paul, not having any kids, didn’t understand the concept or realize the
importance of family. He’s greedy. He’s all about the money.That’s just the
type of person he is.

I quickly found out that all of my dreams of trying to get my own
label off the ground could be put on hold forever because I was put in a
dangerous situation.The first time I realized how deep things were in this
security thing dealing with Death Row was at the 1999 Source Awards in
mid-August out in Los Angeles. Going there, I hadn’t any gripes about
anything. Rather, I was naive about the situation because I figured that
Slim didn’t have anything to do with what had been going on between
Death Row and Dre in the past. I was more concerned with Slim mouthing
off to somebody he had dissed on a record or something. I was expecting
something more along those lines because I knew a lot of people didn’t
care for him too much, but they had to give him his props because the boy
is tight lyrically, no doubt. You can’t take nothing from him on that, but a
lot of people didn’t like him because he’s a white boy out here rhyming
and doing his thing, but you got to give credit when it’s due. That day at
the Source Awards, I remember it being hot out, with all the stars coming
out like Don King, Mike Tyson, Janet Jackson, Hot Boys— everybody; you
name them, they were there, from the NBA players to the movie stars.

It was cool to see a lot of black folks coming out supporting one
another. But, I must say, the Source Awards are too damn “ghetto” for me,
and too “ghetto” to be televised. Luckily, they were able to go back and edit
certain parts before they actually showed it “live, ” as it was pre-recorded,

because some of the things that went down were ridiculous. But before
I get into that. . . we pulled up in the limo and had to do the red carpet
walk and everything. It was pretty cool, and all I had to do was make sure
I kept close to Slim. Mind you, at this point in time I was just working
with Slim as a shield, using my mental capabilities and physical skills like
judo or martial arts to protect him, but, for the most part, I was dealing
with groupies and pulling him out of the crowd. I was basically deterring
situations, even though the physical defense mechanisms were there
ready to be used at any given time, even though we tried to talk our way
out of any given situation. I wasn’t really expecting any problems, with
the exception of one or two people who I knew didn’t like him because
of some things he said on his record about their personal problems, but
that’s part of the business and comes with the game. A lot of people were
showing him some love and giving him pounds when he was walking
through and shaking hands and whatnot. A lot of people were conversing
with him. “I want to do a song with you, ” said a few emcees. I thought
it was cool because I didn’t expect him to get that much love from so
many people. I could tell was it real. They were congratulating him on his
success. Once we got inside, we learned the seating arrangements were all
mixed up. They only had three seats available for Slim, when other acts
had at least five to ten. One seat went to Eminem, one went to Proof, his

hype man, and the third one went to his A&R person. I should have
been sitting there because at a predominantly black event, nine times
out of ten there’s going to be some drama. There’s always one fool in
every bunch, especially with a lot of young black folks who are making
money who like mouthing off. Lo and behold, that fool showed himself
that night. I couldn’t sit with Slim due to the seating arrangement. None
of the security guards were able to sit with their principal, the person they
were guarding. Dre’s security guard was having the same problem. That
night I wasn’t dressed as a security person because when I go places I like
to dress as comfortably as possible, in this case as comfortably as Slim. I
noticed the attire Sarge and Rowe had on—these guys came in all-black
military fatigues looking like they were straight from the SWAT team—
they were very impressive, and they had an intimidating presence. They
weren’t as big as me, but the way they were dressed, their composure, the
whole nine impressed me and I learned a lot from them. They basically
taught me that I needed to dress the part, so that people will know that I
am security and will think twice before approaching me—because of the
vibe given off—before any problems could occur. I don’t think my attire,
though, had anything to do with what might have gone down that night,
and it definitely wouldn’t have prepared me for what happened next.

As I was standing off to the side, the show was going on, and they
were doing the taping and stuff, and I saw how “ghetto” the experience
really was. For example, they had Dre present an award, but when they gave
him the paper to present the award, there was nothing on it. Thank God
it wasn’t live because there was literally a five-minute delay between the
time it took them to find out who the winner was and Dre to announce it.
Luckily, they were able to edit that part out. By the time Dre was on, there
were several Death Row guys, all dressed in red T-shirts, sitting in the same
section that Slim was in about eight rows back. Of course, they noticed
him walk in, but I don’t think they noticed he had security because, again,
I wasn’t able to sit with him and had to sit on the opposite side against a
wall and watch him, as well as the people around him, and see what his
reaction was. About an hour into the show, during a commercial break,
Slim got up and signaled to me that he was going to the restroom. I had
him wait while I walked around the long way, since I couldn’t go straight
to him because the rows were filled. I had to walk up the opposite aisle, go
into the hallway, come back into the facility, and meet him halfway in the
aisle. I was trying to wade through all these people and, mind you, it was
the Source Awards—it was very crowded, everybody was trying to show
up in their outfits, their platinum chains, their Rolexes, the whole nine. I
could see Slim getting congratulations from some more people, but before
I could reach him, there were several guys in red T-shirts who approached
him. I wasn’t thinking that this could be a Death Row-related issue, due to
the laid-back atmosphere; it was just a lot of black folks mingling.

I was still making my way through the crowd trying to get to Slim.
The whole time, I was watching his face. These guys in red T-shirts were
talking to him, and Slim was talking back to them, and I suddenly saw
Slim’s facial expression change from a mild mannered to an angry—Slim
turned flush red; he was just as red as the Death Row guys’ T-shirts. I was
about three feet from him. I could hear the argument between Slim and
the lead guy from Death Row. From what I understood, this guy ranked
high. I was working my way through the last of the crowd when I heard
the lead guy say, “What’s that Death Row like?” And Slim said, “What are
you talking about, what’s that Death Row like?” They went on repeating,
“Death Row, muh fucka, Death Row!” “How you like that Death Row?! We
up in here, muh fucka!” By the time I reached Slim, he was agitated to
the point where he was ready to swing. The Death Row guys were all up
in Slim’s face. I pushed the lead guy back and put Slim behind. I asked,
“What’s the deal, man? What’s going on? We can’t be having any of this
shit up in here!” A Death Row guy responded, “Who the fuck is you?!!”
“I’m Slim’s security, and we aren’t going to be having no problems up in
here!” Now at this time, it hadn’t really registered yet that these cats were
from Death Row. Next thing I knew, they were hollering, “Death Row, muh
fucka! You gon’ see us again. ” Immediately, I got Slim out of there. We
went into the hallway, and by that time he was amped.

Slim’s
fists were balled up, and he was nervous and scared. Honestly,
I was nervous because they had outnumbered us, plus we were on their
turf. I held my ground though. In the midst of getting him out of there, it
dawned on me this was Death Row we were dealing with here. I expected
some drama here—but not with Death Row Records. They are the last
ones you want to get into it with. I said, “Alright, we got to deal with this
situation!” The first thing I did was get on the phone and notify Paul of
what had just happened. I informed Dean (Slim’s A&R rep) to go tell
Dre’s security what was going on, as well. We knew we had to act fast. We
had to get in and present the award for DMX, so we couldn’t leave. We
were escorted downstairs to the holding area for the people to present the
awards. The whole time I was looking out for anyone from Death Row. So
many people were still coming up to Slim giving him play. I was thinking,
somebody is going to try to steal on him. I was Slim’s only security guy.
Prior to the Source Awards, I kept telling Paul that we were going to need
additional security. I also suggested bulletproof vests be purchased for
Slim and myself. I stressed that to him so many times weeks before the
Source Awards happened. I was looking to be on the safe side, because
Slim has talked so much shit about so many people in his songs. If history
serves me correctly, someone has always gotten shot or killed after the
Source Awards or after the Soul Train Awards.

I didn’t want take that chance of Slim being the next target. He
was vulnerable due to his high visibility—a white kid doing black music
and talking shit about a lot of people. I was putting two and two together,
taking preventive measures. Paul always shot down security measures,
which wasn’t his job, although Slim gave him the okay to make the final
call. His response was, “Naz, we are not trying to portray that type of image
with Slim wearing a bulletproof vest. It wouldn’t be cordial or appropriate
for him to go into the Source Awards with a bulletproof vest on. ” My
response was, “Paul, look at the past Source Awards, the problems, the
beefs, the skirmishes. Look at the Soul Train Awards, the after-parties, z all
these hip-hop artists there. It always ends with somebody getting shot or
killed. Look at the last few years!” He still said he didn’t think it was wise
to do that. So now, with all the drama jumpin’ off, Paul was alerted that
Death Row Records had approached us and tried to intimidate us. Paul
was scared shitless! Slim was fuckin’ trippin’ at that point. Slim couldn’t
figure out why they were harassing him. I was looking at the situation
like, damn! I go from reading about this Death Row shit to being in the
middle of it. What the fuck am I doing here? It was like a “Twilight Zone”
moment; I could hear the “Twilight Zone” music playing. I said to myself,
What the hell just happened? What just happened?

We realized that we had bitten off more than we could chew. We
didn’t expect this magnitude of drama—and it only got worse. Eventually,
Slim presented DMX the award. Immediately afterward, I notified the