The Life and Times of Shawn Carter

Before Watch the Throne. Before The Black Album. Before Reasonable Doubt. Before Jay-Z. This bio-story of Jay-Z is the closest thing you will get to finding out what happened before he became the king of the sex, drugs, and rap empire that he now rules over. This is the real Decoded.

April 4, 2008

The wind smashed against our faces, causing her hair to sway gently. She was an angel, soon to be my angel; soon to be my wife. I never thought this moment would ever truly come, I never wanted to be married. I never thought I’d give in to the concepts of fidelity, and faithfulness, and marriage. It wasn’t necessarily that I was incapable of being committed. I had committed myself to moving drugs and then moving units and then moving clothing.  Being committed to a particular cause wasn’t new to me. Being committed to a person had always perplexed me.

With business, I could always count on myself. I could always depend on my actions and behavior and live and die by my own merits. I needed that sense of control, I needed to be in charge. But it wasn’t like that with trusting your future with someone else. One mistake, one brash decision, one f*ck up could be the end of me. I never wanted to deal with that. I couldn’t live with that burden.

Beyonce was testing my limits, I was truly surrendering my control to be with her and it was bringing me to my knees. Grasping for the last remnants of control and power, but slipping further and further away from that sovereignty. I looked in her searching eyes and saw the woman I wanted t be with for the rest of my life.

“Do you take Beyonce to be your wife” the minister asked.

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Our small group of family and friends were present and watching something they didn’t think would be possible years ago. There was a reluctance to embrace me and Bee. My past, my persona, my double mind had rightfully cast doubt in the validity of our friendship and love. As hard as I tried to prove them wrong, hours before the marriage ceremony, I was feeling like they were right. It would be too much to overcome.

“Dawg, you ok?” my best man Ty Ty said as I vomited in the toilet.

I was vomiting a mix of liquor and insecurities; insecurities that were born in my past. Insecurities that I never quite got over. I was having second thoughts, third, forth, and fifth thoughts. I didn’t want to hurt Beyonce by reneging on our marriage. But I couldn’t allow myself to be hurt again. I couldn’t allow myself to become vulnerable and out of control. I couldn’t allow myself to go back to that place, that dark and friendless place.

“Jay, open the door” Ty said, as I remained on my knees, face in the toilet.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. This wasn’t the only time my body responded to fear and trauma by purging itself. It wasn’t even the first time Ty Ty was there to witness it. He knew where I came from and why telling Beyonce ‘I Do’ would be the single most difficult thing I would have to do. He knew because he was there from the beginning. The beginning of my transformation, from a shy and reserved kid to a cold and heartless man who hated himself and everyone around him. How could that man love again?

November 24, 1984

I begin throwing up as Ty banged on the bathroom door insisting that I open up. I needed to be in that bathroom, by myself, and away from the world. It had been two days after Thanksgiving and the mixture of leftover stuffing, lines of cocaine, and apprehension had drained my gut. I vomited until my lungs couldn’t take anymore pressure. My stomach was empty, empty of food, of feelings, of a soul. I was souless, no longer bound by conscious.

“Jazzy, what the f*ck are you doing in there? Let’s go nigga” Dehaven blasted from outside of the door.

No longer having anything to give to the toilet, I stood up and wiped my mouth. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing the 15 year old that I saw. A quick rinse of my mouth in the sink and I was out the bathroom, meeting my crew and ready to punish a crew member that had broken a cardinal rule.

Dehaven stared hard at me, I couldn’t tell if he was disgusted that I was b*tching out or that I had stains of vomit on my clothes. I could tell that he was disgusted either way.

“Baby boy, you are either in or out”.

I eyed my former best friend just as intense, ridding my thoughts of fear and giving in to the bravado that was needed to go through with this.

“Let’s go” I confidently said.

In our small crew of delinquents, we only had a few rules; one of them being to never thieve from the stash. No withholding earnings from a days work and never taking from the cookie jar. It was apparent that Shaw had done both, rather recklessly. The rest of us were struggling, there was a hood depression going on with the inflation of coke prices. A snitch had gotten a few top dogs in our neighborhood locked up, which hindered us as small time dealers. We didn’t have the quality stuff first of all, and didn’t have the means to sell anywhere outside of our immediate area.

We were broke ass hustlers, just as most of the hustlers in Marcy were. But for some reason, this nigga Shaw was flashing. Gold chains, a gold tooth, and his woman was shining too. He was our friend and a charting member of our small time crew, but he was also thieving. And there was only one punishment for such treason.

I walked outside of the Housing building with Dehaven and Ty and met up with the rest of the crew, B-High, Big Ren and Manny. They were sitting on a park bench, smoking cigarettes while patiently waiting for us, or more specifically for me to stop b*tching.

“Is Jazzy aight? Thought that nigga was going to die” Ren asked, the largest and meanest in our clique.

“I’m good”.

They all looked ready to go, ready to do Shaw in for stealing from us. There were no smiles, no entertained grins or looks of excitement. None of us wanted to hurt Shaw or go through with our other rules for stealing. But these were the rules and you don’t break them.

The Moon was hidden by the large Skyscrappers that blocked it’s view, it was dark and cold. The perfect backdrop for what was about to happen. There was no better crime scene then one where blacks were packed together, poor, angry, and out of control. That is what we were as we put our black hoodies over our heads and headed towards Shaw’s place without a word. We knew he would be there, it was his nightly routine. We had observed his protocol for a few weeks.

She’d go to his house while his mom went to work. He would f*ck her, watch TV, and then leave by 1 or 2 in the morning to walk her home. He was a bit of a gentleman, a simp kind of dude, always buying things for his woman and chivalrously walking her home. Dehaven always thought it made him a pussy.

It was now 12:30 a.m. which meant we had time to wait and think. It was the waiting and the thinking that made me nauseous in the first place.

I could tell the waiting was taking it’s toll on the guys too, as Manny pulled out a small bag of coke so he could psyche himself out. He did a small line on his forearm and passed the bag around the rest of the group. I didn’t care for doing lines, they made me feel crazy and reckless, I liked to be relaxed. But with my stomach growing fears and hunger, I needed the extra spike in my adrenaline. I did the line in my right nostril and shook my head once it hit my system. I was f*cked up, completely high, and ready to protect the sanctity of our clique.

Like clockwork, Shaw emerged from the Apartment Complex with her hand in his. He seemed surprised by how dark it was outside once he walked a few steps. We had shot out the street light closest to their building earlier in the day. Hearing gunshots was nothing out of the ordinary in Marcy, so no one even bothered to check to see where it had came from. We needed darkness to aid us in this.

Shaw and his girl walked slowly, right to us, right to our trap. He couldn’t immediately recognize who the 5 guys in black were in front of him, but he had to know it meant trouble. Shaw wasn’t the trouble making type, he avoided confrontations at all cost. We knew he had to be shaking in his Addidas, walking with 5 faceless figures staring at him.

I swallowed hard, there was no looking back.

“Wassup Shaw” Dehaven said, not in a friendly or courteous tone.

Shaw looked around at us with wide eyes and then at his girl.

“What’s going on fellas?”.

I saw her cling to him, which I was sure only added fuel to Dehaven’s fire. He had his eye on Shaw’s girl for the longest. She was pecan complexion with large pointy breast and a big ass. Her best feature were her bangs and school girl smile. She was a school girl before Shaw had met her and turned her into his chick. Dehaven always resented how Shaw could get the pick of the litter when it came to women. Who knows, maybe Dehaven was happy that Shaw had chosen to break one of our rules. Now he had an excuse to take her from him.

“You a b*tch ass nigga” Ren said, stepping closer to Shaw.

Shaw took a step back as did his girl. “What did I do?”.

“Shut the f*ck up you thief. All the rest of us are starving while you and this b*tch is iced out. She looking a little chubbier since last I saw her, I know yall eating good” Dehaven spoke.

“D, I haven’t stolen anything. You know me better than that”.

Manny pulled out a set of brass to place on his knuckles and then spoke in his Spanish accent .

“It ain’t looking too good for you Shaw. We’ve seen you buy her things you can’t afford. Where are you getting the extra money?”

“My dad sends me money from Chicago”.

Dehaven laughed, prompting laughs from the rest of us. Even I was chuckling, Shaw had told us that he didn’t communicate with his dad. And now all of the sudden he was sending money for him to buy sneakers and jewelry?

“We were suppose to be boys, Shaw” B-High spoke, shaking his head at his friend, our friend.

“I didn’t steal anything. I swear to God on my mothers life. I swear to f*cking God. I wouldn’t do that to the crew” he pleaded, sounding sorry and pathetic.

I turned around to check to see if anyone had walked into our area, what we were about to do could send us to prison for a long time. I saw no one immediately, until I noticed Ty Ty watching from the edge of a building. He was the lil nigga always trying to follow us around and be in with us. He was my boy, but he was too small, too young acting to be in this kind of life.

“Ty, get the f*ck outta here” I yelled.

Ty scratched his head and left to go back home. I wished I could have went with him, I didn’t want to be here.

We turned our attention back to Shaw and his shivering b*tch. I couldn’t even remember her name, we always just called her Shaw’s b*tch. She was about to become group property now.

“Look. Whatever he stole. I can give it all back. Here, take it all” she fearfully said as she begin taking off her jewelry, a necklace and bracelet. She extended her hand and waited for us to accept.

I felt bad for her. I was sure she didn’t realize, she didn’t know what this was about. She didn’t realize the extent of her boyfriends sins. She didn’t realize she would be an innocent pawn in this game. None of us accepted her words to forgive him. That wouldn’t work.

“You know the deal. Shaw. You know why we’re here” I said.

“Please yall. Jazzy. D. High. Manny. Yall are my niggas, man. Please don’t do this”.

“You’re move” Dehaven bluntly said, ignoring any hint of begging.

Shaw had to know that Dehaven would not let him get out of this. Dehaven was changing, growing more evil by the second, more controlling and more violent. He was the youngest of our group, but undoubtedly our leader. It was his viscous aggression that had him running things. It was this violent nature that made our group respected. He fed off of that respect and would do everything to keep it.

Dehaven reached into his waist and pulled out .22 caliber pistol. He smiled once he saw Shaw’s girl mouth drop and eyes widen. Shaw tensed up and held her hand, before letting it go and preparing to take his punishment like a man.

Shaw swung for Big Ren, presumably trying to take out the biggest of us, but his punch only slightly staggered Ren. He ate the punch as the rest of us rushed Shaw.

“Get the b*tch” Dehaven yelled after she begin backing away ready to run.

D, High, and Ren were stomping Shaw out which left Manny and I to take care of her. She didn’t get far but her screaming was sure to attract attention. Manny pulled out a roll of duck tape and quickly placed it over her mouth. She punched and kicked and caught me in my eye. I backhanded her one time to get her under control. She fell to the ground and stared at us in horror.

“Damn b*tch” I said silently as I grabbed my eye. The ring on her finger had poked me in the eye, and it was red and teary.

Manny grabbed her by the arm and begin dragging her towards Shaw, who was hurled in the fetal position trying to protect his head while the boys stomped on him. As bad as this was, it was only the beginning. There was one more step needed for this punishment. We had made this rule when we formed our clique. We couldn’t turn away from it now.

Dehaven stopped  pistol whipping Shaw when he saw Manny dragging her over. His face twisted into a evil grin when he saw the fear in her eyes, looking at her beaten and bloody boyfriend. He took his Gun and pointed it directly in the side of her head, getting close to she could feel his breath, his terrible, warm, tobacco drenched breath as he spoke.

“Look, If you scream. I swear to God, the sound of this damn gun will be the last thing you will ever hear. Do everything I f*cking say”.

She couldn’t say anything with the tape over her mouth so she just shook profusely and stared at the gun. Her young ass couldn’t be any older than 16, this would definitely be the worst night of her young life.

D ripped off the tape from her mouth and dragged her closer to the bushes so we were out of the walkways. Ren and High dragged a broken Shaw to the same spot. We looked around, making no one was near and proceeded with part 2. D unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick, putting it in the face of Shaw’s girl who sat on the grass.

“Bite me and I will kill you” D said.

She feared for her life and there was only one possible reaction for her in that situation. She did as she was told while Shaw was made to watch, Dehaven forcefully penetrated her face. He made her suck as he smiled down at her. She was crying silently with her eyes closed. He didn’t orgasm, most likly because sexual satisfaction was not the point of this assault. This was about power and degradation. Once he was done he asked which of us wanted a turn. How thoughtful of him, wanting to share. This had always been his idea.

“Which of yall is next?” D smiled, with the gun still to her head.

Big Ren took his turn, mashing her face down with his hands and thrusting. My eye was still throbbing, but even with one eye open and no lights to aid in my vision, I clearly saw the defeated look on her face. I wanted to vomit again, I wanted to be away from this, I wanted to be away from myself.

Ren zipped up his pants, and gave the next person in line a chance to degrade the innocent girl. “Who got next?”.

I immediately shook my head, I wanted no part. I was already an accomplice to rape and battery, so it didn’t matter legally if we were ever to be caught. I had already gone too far to turn back. But for my own conscious, my own moral barometer, I couldn’t touch her. I could barely stand to look at her. B-High and Manny also declined; I figured they were feeling similar disgust at the situation.

“Aww, yall some b*tches” Dehaven said.

He decided to finish off the nights events by adding something to the punishment that we never agreed to. Hell we had never even spoke about it. Why would we need to? None of us thought we’d ever have to go through with punishment of a crew member. We made the rules because we felt a crew needed rules, with a punishment so severe that no one would break them just out of fear. We never actually thought we’d have to do this sh*t.

D knew we weren’t as hollow as he was. He preyed on this because no one questioned him, not even Big Ren. D walked over to Shaw and once again pulled out his dick, this time positioning himself over Shaw who was lying on the ground with defeat in his eyes. D then urinated on Shaw, our friend. This was who D was. The type of guy that could piss on his friend.  Shaw tried shielding his face as he coughed from the urine and beating he had taken. Dehaven simply grinned,  shook his d*ck one good time and put it back in his pants, ready to go before anyone came.

He decided to remind the witnesses to the crime that snitching was a one way ticket to a funeral by simply flashing his gun. “This never happened, right?”.

She looked at D, as if he was the devil himself and shook her head in the affirmative. Her sexual assault never happened. She shook her head against her conscious, ridding herself of any thoughts to ever tell a soul what had happened. This was how Marcy became the way it was. Intimidation, power, control. Dehaven, at only 14, had proven to be a master at these things.

We left our broken friend and his equally broken girlfriend on the side on the project building. I didn’t know where we were going, I just wanted to get the hell away from there. I wanted to be away from Marcy and away from Brooklyn and away from Dehaven.

“I’m hungry as hell” D said as we walked through the projects as if nothing had just happened, completely ignoring the atrocities of the last hour.

“Yo, you think Shaw’s mom has some leftovers from Thanksgiving? That Macaroni and cheese was the sh*t” Ren said.

“Lets go check. Shaw’s b*tch ass should be up by now” Dehaven said.

They shared a laugh. I was hungry, starving even, but I refused to go with them. Not to eat as if nothing had happened and definitely not to Shaw’s crib.

“That b*tch socked me in the eye, I’m bout to go home” I said.

“You should have returned the favor, nigga. She suck a good dick man, you missed the f*ck out you scary ass nigga” D laughed.

“I bet she do suck a good dick, but not as good as your momma, nigga” I laughed back.

We all laughed, pretending that we weren’t monsters and were just young and fatherless kids. I felt otherwise, I felt like a monster.

“Aight God. I will check you tomorrow. Tell Aunt Glo I said hey” Dehaven said as he gave me a pound.

After pounds from my other niggas I headed in the opposite direction with my hands in my pockets and the hoody over my head. The rest of them returned to Shaw’s crib to raid his refrigerator.

When I walked into the crib, my mother was waiting for me. She was staring at the wall when I walked into the door and into the kitchen. She didn’t budge, she just stared at the wall. It was then that I noticed she had been staring at the clock. The analog clock hands were both a little past 2.

I looked at her waiting for her to say something, anything. She finally turned her head and looked at her son. Her once loving and reserved son that was now hanging out late and doing things she could not possibly even conceive. She no longer saw her baby boy, but I wondered if she saw the devil, which is what I saw myself as.

I didn’t wait for her to say a word, I was ashamed and exhausted. With tears swelling in my red and tired eyes, I walked straight to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed face first. I cried silently, feeling pain from being poked in the eye. The tears literally hurt my eyes as they fell and flooded my pillow. Blood soaked tears from a night of drugs and violence. I cried until sleep somehow overcame me. Maybe I passed out instead of sleeping, because I don”t remember dreaming that night.

The next morning would be nothing different, not a new life or new dreams of possibilities. But the same projects with the same people and the same evils. This was the life I chose, or rather the life that chose me.

December 4 to Marcy

Life wasn’t always hard and painful. The beginning of my life wasn’t hard or painful at all for my mother. I was born Shawn Carter on December 4th, 1968 at 10 pounds. My mom always told the story about how I didn’t give her any pain during the delivery. I was a miracle baby according to her, especially since she had scheduled an abortion when I had only been conceived for a few weeks.

She eventually canceled the abortion appointment and she took the painless delivery as some sort of sign. A sign that I was suppose to be here and that I would do great things.

My family was good when I came into the world, good for a black family in the 70′s. We had a decent sized crib with 3 bedrooms. I was the youngest of four children, two sisters and a brother. Michelle, who we called Mickey, was the oldest, born 8 years before me.

My other sister Andrea, or Annie for short, was 4 years older than me and Eric was 6 years older. Obviously, those were their ages when I came into the world. One would have possibly expected me and Eric to be the closest but we weren’t. Annie was my best friend in my early years, we played with barbies together until Eric beat me up for acting like a girl.

When I grew out of that phase she and I still found ourselves as the closest siblings in the family. Annie always wanted to be a mother, even when she was a youngin’ herself so she embraced me as her baby brother, emphasis on baby. She would shampoo my hair and give me baths. When Eric was beating me up, she was always the one that would come to my rescue.

“Shawn is going to beat your ass one day when he gets big” she would say to Eric.

Eric would laugh and shoot me a look.

“The day Shawn whoops my ass is the day I will kill myself”.

That seemed to be the spark I needed because Eric and I would fight daily. I think I hoped if we fought enough times, I might get the best of him and maybe he would eventually kill himself. I didn’t hate my brother, but I hated that he had the power to beat my ass. Crying to mom didn’t help, it only fueled his wrath. I was still in pampers and walking with a Binky but I also knew how to throw hands, just to keep him from snatching my toy and taking it for himself.

One summer when I was four, Annie had gone away to a camp so I was left to fend for myself. My bodyguard was gone which meant daily torture from Eric. He would take my football and hold it over my head. My little legs weren’t strong or tall enough to give me enough of a boost to reach it. He’d just laugh and tell me to give up.

“Go on and play with something else lil nigga” he would say before going outside with his friends.

One thing that fascinated me was being outside. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to go. ‘Too dangerous’ my momma would say. Eric would always ride his bike with friends which also had me envious. I hated being little and not being able to do what Eric did. I was too impatient to stay little and helpless, so I decided I was going to go outside and ride his bike.

No one was interested in teaching me to ride. Eric was too busy with his friends and Mickey said I was too little and would hurt myself. I didn’t care about any of that, I had the willpower to learn on my own. I stalked the bike for minutes as I saw it laying on the ground in our front yard. Eric was suppose to be watching me but he was inside with his friends looking at a magazine with a girl on it.

I walked up to the bike and used all of my muscles and strength to lift the 2 wheeler off the ground. It was taller than me by a few inches, I struggled to figure out how I could even get on top of the seat. I jumped on, pulled the handle bars to the left and immediately took a dip into the concrete.

I was bleeding from the scratches but my pride was hurt more than anything. I heard the neighbors next door giggling as I attempted to hop on again. I fell again, and again, and again, until one of the adults next door told me to stop before I hurt myself.

I was already hurt and being hurt didn’t scare me. Failing scared me. I wanted to ride it, I never wanted anything as bad as I wanted to ride that bike. And finally, after finding a way to tilt the bike low enough for me to jump on and straighten the handle bars, I managed my first successful bike ride. It only lasted a dozen or so feet and was filled with erratic handling of the bars and steering, but I had did it. I rode a bike, on my own. The next-door neighbors cheered loudly as Eric came to the door, in shock as he saw his baby brother on his bike.

“Shawn, get your little ass off that bike” he yelled.

I used all of my leg muscles to ride away from him, into the street peddling as fast as I could to ride away. It wasn’t nearly fast enough as he caught me and drug me inside.

“Wait till I tell momma. You know you weren’t suppose to be outside” he said.

Surprisingly, when he told my mom the story, she was more interested in the part about me riding the bike and not about me being outside.  ”Shawn, how did you get on the bike?”

“I jumped”.

“Who taught you to do that?”

I shrugged.

“Nobody”.

She smiled to herself and then chided Eric for letting me out of his sight. When he went to his bedroom to do homework she smiled at me and shook her head. “Shawn you are special, and don’t let anyone ever tell you different”.

I got a big boy helping of banana pudding that night for dessert.

Aside from the sibling disputes, our home was definitely above status quo as far as love. I came home everyday from daycare to a home full of love and fun. My dad worked odd end jobs with odd times, with him making most money from truck driving. He even took me across the country with him one time, although I don’t remember much from the month long trip.

He ended up being on the road most of the time, but when he did come home, all of my siblings and I met him at the door and flooded into his arms. Eric was especially close to him, probably because he was his first son. They had been to baseball games together, he had always done more with Eric than he had with me.

All in all, we were provided for. I had three good pairs of slacks and two good pairs of shoes, and never had an empty belly. We even had a color TV. For a black family in New York in the 70′s, we were doing quite all right.

That was until my father got fired from two of his jobs for testing positive for drugs. My mother and him smoked, I knew this, but for years he had always found ways to beat drug tests. Apparently, it had caught up with him and our income dipped tremendously. It got so bad, that we could no longer afford our mortgage and my father went on the road to search for more work. A few months before my 6th birthday, we begin packing out belongings, ready to leave our first and only home.

Eventually, we made the move to Marcy projects, a housing unit that was notorious for violence and a densely populated area for blacks and Hispanics. We had never lived in a rough part of Brooklyn before, so it was new to all of us. But our mother was determined to make the necessary sacrifices to keep our family together and off of welfare. She didn’t believe in government handouts, so she got a second job to pay our rent in the smaller, 2 bedroom unit.

She made a bed on the sofa and allowed Eric and I and my sisters to share rooms. She figured it would only be a temporary living space, until my father returned with more work. She didn’t realize she would be waiting for a long time.

In her downtime, when she wasn’t working my mother insisted that the family had fun. She was an earthly woman, loving to light incense and throw on a record so we could all dance. I mostly liked the Jackson 5, as I would try to dance like Michael with my siblings acting as the background. She’d sit on the couch while we performed for her on rainy days. Music was steadily coming from our small apartment and eventually it started to attract a crowd. My mother saw this as an opportunity to unite the people of Marcy.

She’d cook some Jamaican rice and Curry chicken, throw on a James Brown or Earth Wind and Fire record and let anyone willing to party come to our house and dance. She threw so many house parties for the people on our floor that word got out to people on the other floors. And soon, as much as 100 people were coming to get a plate of food and jam to our record player. It was an engaging and eye opening experience for me seeing so  many people bond and vibe together to black music and black cuisine. I loved it.

The house parties got so hectic that we had to have them outside of the house; they eventually became block parties. Everyone loved my momma, which made Eric an instant beneficiary of the love. He became popular in the neighborhood. With dad gone, he was the man of the house, at only 13.

Eric started hanging out with the boys of the projects, while Annie started finding new interest like boys and makeup. I didn’t have anyone to play with most days, that was until my cousin Bernard and his family also moved to Marcy. Bernard, who we would call B-High, was my age and my ticket to be allowed to leave the house to go play outside.

My mother was fearful of me leaving the apartment and out into the dangerous and unpredictable streets, almost paranoid. But she knew she couldn’t protect me forever and she eventually let me out of the nest to hang with cousin Bernard.

“Shawn, remember what I said. Don’t talk to strangers and if anyone messes with you, come straight home” she said as I grabbed my jacket, anxious to go out and play basketball with the kids at the court.

She gave me a long and hard hug and a kiss on the cheek before letting me go. She had to let me go. It was time to let me go.

It wasn’t long before I made friends off the rep of my brother Eric. Ty Ty was a neighborhood kid about our age that I started hanging with. But B-High was like my brother from another during this time. We even started calling each other brothers.

By the time I was 8, Eric’s rep was strengthening and so was his popularity in the projects. I didn’t quite understand it at the time, but he was hustling. He would come home with new shoes and clothes, he was one of the flyest people in Marcy as far as I was concerned. He was my hero. One day he came home with a gold chain link. It made him look like a movie star to me. I had to wear it, I just had to.

Without his permission, I hid the chain in my bookbag and took it to school with me, pulling it out in the middle of class and putting it on. It was like the slippers that Cinderella used to transform her from a peasant to a princess. Instead for me, I transformerd from a boy to a man. I proudly wore the gold chain for the rest of the day, embracing the looks of the other boys who wondered why and how I had a chain that fierce. I was sure Eric would beat my ass when I got home, but I didn’t care. The allure of the respect was worth it.

On the way home from school with B-High and TyTy a group of 11 year olds approached us. I knew from the way they were looking that it wasn’t going to be a friendly standoff. I knew what they wanted. Ty Ty was my friend, but he was much too little to be any kind of a threat or fighter. It would almost certainly just be me and B-High if anything were to happen. I wasn’t afraid of fighting someone older, I had been fighting Eric all of my life. But I was fearful of getting Eric’s chain snatched. There was no telling what he would do to me if I lost his chain.

“Give up the link, boy” one of the kids with a large afro said.

I stood my ground, refusing to give my brothers possession away without a fight.  ”No, leave me alone” I said attempting to walk away.

“We’re not going to ask again” the kid said.

“Well I’m not telling you again. No” I said.

Ty Ty looked horrified, knowing he wasn’t prepared or thorough enough for a fight. B-High had my back though, he balled his fist in anticipation. The kid went for my neck, trying to just snatch the chain but I shielded myself with my arms. This prompted the rest of the 11 year olds to move in on us. Ty Ty backed away, ready to run home and tell someone, possibly my mother that we were about to get jumped. But I wasn’t running, I’d rather get my ass kicked then run.

As a group of students gathered around to watch, one in particular seemed interested on what was going on. He was a dark skinned mean looking kid. Short and baby faced, but with the snarl of a rot. He emerged from the sea of people and ran up to us, punching the 11 year old with an afro straight in the face. He fell on the ground holding his nose which was bleeding. I took this as my opportunity to swing on one of his boys. And like that, the fight was on. Ty Ty ran towards the school to get a principal or teacher or something while we fought.

I got a few good punches in, B-High had kicked a kid in the stomach, but it was four of them on three of us, plus they were older. They ended up stomping us out, leaving B-High, me, and the brave kid that had jumped in on the ground. To add insult to injury, they also took my brothers chain.

“My chain now, b*tch” the kid with the afro said as he and his boys begin jogging away.

Ty Ty returned with a few white teachers who didn’t seem to care about the fight. They never really cared, it was just their job to break up fights. As far as they really were concerned, when school was out, so was their responsibilities concerning us. As least this is what I felt about them. They looked at us lying there on the ground and sighed.

“Another day, another fight” the male teacher whispered to the female teacher.

They attempted helped us up, but the dark skinned kid refused the help.

“F*ck you b*tch” he said, grabbing his ribs and nursing his wounds “We don’t need your help”.

She expected this I figured. She seemed relieved by his comment, she wouldn’t have to fill out an incident report. The teachers walked away as the kids who were watching the fight moved on from the scene. Nothing left to see, there would be another fight the next day.

I eventually made my way up and helped B-High up. The dark skinned kid was already up and walking in a circle, going on about how it was on, how they would get theirs for jumping us. He went on and on as if we knew who his little ass was, he was no bigger than Ty Ty, but his heart was gigantic.

“Thanks man” I said.

“Don’t thank me. They still got your chain homie”.

B-High began dusting off his clothes as Ty Ty walked closer to us to examine the aftershock of the fight.

“Your man is a coward” the kid said as Ty approached.

“He’s not use to fighting, that’s all” B-High said.

“Damn that” the kid said, ironically smiling a sick smile at Ty.

“Why did you try to help?” I asked, not really understanding why the kid was willing to risk an ass whooping for a chain that didn’t belong to him.

“I didn’t wanna see your chain get snatched. I hate those stupid mother*ckers”.

We begin walking home, the four of us, though I was sure the kid didn’t care much for Ty who walked a few steps behind us. We found out he also lived in Marcy, recently moving there from a different project in BK. He had a weird name, something I had never heard before, but it sounded tough.

“Dehaven” he spoke while giving me and B-High pounds.

He was a year younger than us which explains why I had never seen him in our floor of the school. By the time we had made it home, we had become friends. He had a high strung personality, which I liked. I was a bit more reserved and quiet, he was brash and loud. He wasn’t the typical 7 year old, that was for sure. He came from a dark place, I was sure of it. But I wouldn’t find out how dark until much later in life.

Dehaven and I started hanging out everyday after school, eventually he replaced B-High as my best friend. B-High was cool, but Dehaven had stories and enthusiasm that rubbed off on me. He’d tell me about realities that I didn’t even know existed. He taught me how to pick pockets and get in the movies for free. There was so much to learn from him and I soaked it up. I wanted to know it all. I wanted to be hip to the game like he was.

A few months later, we planed and executed an attack on the kid that had snatched my chain. We jumped him and took back what was rightfully ours, our first score together. It wouldn’t be the last. D didn’t seem too happy about getting the chain back though, he wanted more.

“We shouldn’t have to steal your brothers chain to be fly” he would ration.

He had big dreams, ambitions that far outreached out potential as elementary school kids. But I shared in his dream, his vision. We both wanted to be hustlers like my brother, like his uncle Ray, like Danny-Dan, like Red. We’d sleep over at Ty Ty’s  house and joke about what we’d do when we got rich.

Dehaven’s crib was off limits because it was so many people in that 2 bedroom and my crib was off limits because my mom didn’t want boys and girls mingling in her home. So Ty Ty’s place was the only one we all got permission to go, plus they had cable so it was ok.

“Nigga, I’m buying 2 cars. One for during the day and the other for night time” B-High would say.

“You’re not pushing it far enough B. You need a car for every day of the week, except Sunday” Dehaven laughed.

“Why not Sunday D?” I laughed.

“Because Ima be like God. I rest on the 7th day” he grinned.

And that is how Dehaven was, always thinking big and boisterous. Alot of that rubbed off on me, alot of it.

As we grew, so did our dependence on crime to entertain us. Nothing too bad and nothing violent, just finding ways to score a few dollars. By the time I was 10, we were ripping off tourist on Saturdays and snatching purses from old ladies. We spend the money mostly on junk, we had a treasure chest that we called the stash, that was filled with nothing but junk food, stolen credit cards, and crumbled up dollars.

It was our stash and our pride. We weren’t going to ever use the credit cards, but we kept them as souvenirs or victory coups. One day we were in Manhattan and managed to sneak into an Asian Message parlor. We ducked past the front desk and found a room where a man was naked, getting massaged by a petite and pretty asian girl.

Dehaven found the guys pants laying on a chair and went for the back pocket to get the wallet. I stood behind him, anxious that maybe we would get caught for our first time. We had done alot of petty crimes, but had never been caught for any. My mom thought I was outside playing kid games like Tag all day. We played those games, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy our appetite for being bad. Snatching a guys wallet while he gets a massage was giving us thrills, thrills that tag couldn’t give us.

Once he got the wallet, the asian girl screamed and the middle aged white man turned around fast enough to see us standing, grinning. Dehaven winked at the girl and we dashed straight out of the parlor straight to the subway. He only had $10 in his wallet, but he had something else that we valued. A bag of weed, a small bag.

It was late 1979, the drug rush of the 80′s were fast approaching and that was the day that we all smoked our first joint together. It was a small, badly rolled joint with cheap weed, but it worked. We immediately became addicted to smoking weed, and it become something we always wanted to do after school.

One day when my mother was at work, we decided to smoke weed in my bedroom. We got caught by Mickey, who couldn’t believe her baby brother was smoking. “Shawn, what the hell do you think you are doing?” she screamed when she saw us.

“Mickey, I seen you smoking before” I shot.

“Boy, I am grown”.

“Yea, but you still live at home with mom. So you not too grown” I said, prompting a laugh from Dehaven and B-High.

“You think you are grown huh? But I bet you won’t be laughing when i tell mom what you are your little friends are doing. Shawn, this is not you and you know mom won’t be happy”.

I stopped laughing when she mentioned telling mom. Why would she do that? She knew how it was out here, she knew I would eventually start doing what the other kids were doing. Why was she making a big deal out of this? I met her in the hallway, attempting to talk sense into my big sister.

“Mickey, it’s just a little weed”.

“Shawn, it’s not the weed that i’m worried about. Its you changing”.

“Well, im growing up. Why come nobody said anything when Eric was smoking and hustling?”

“You and Eric are totally different. Plus, alot of the stuff he does is because he feels he has to provide for us. He misses dad”.

“I don’t care. I want to be treated just like he was. Yall are always trying to baby me. I’m not a baby Mickey. Just stop it”.

She looked at me hard and eventually shook her head. She was going to college soon and feared what I would become once she left, once Eric left. I could tell I was breaking her heart by following in the footsteps of Eric, who would be out all night. I knew she wanted the best for both of us, but thought that Eric was too far gone to be saved. She had hoped I would lead a different direction. She thought wrong, I wanted to be a hustler too.

“What has happened to my little brother?”.

“Mickey. Just leave me alone. I can handle myself.

“Ok Shawn. You want to be treated like Eric, then ok. But don’t expect me to baby you anymore. Don’t ask for movie money. Don’t ask for me to cook for you. Don’t ask to sleep in my bed when you have nightmares again. You are a big boy. You big and bad. I’ll leave you alone”.

She grabbed her purse and left out the door to go study with her friends. I didn’t take any of her words serious as I returned to my bedroom, hoping all of the weed wasn’t gone. I had a reputation to uphold with my friends, I couldn’t show weakness.

“Where the weed at?”

“It’s gone mommas boy” Dehaven laughed.

“Damn, yall niggas didn’t save me any? Stingy ass niggas”.

“Dawg, I thought Mickey was going to beat your ass” B-High said.

“Mickey ain’t gon’ do a damn thang”.

“Sh*t, she could do whatever she wants to me. Your sisters are fine as hell” Dehaven said.

I use to think that he would speak on my sisters because he was high, but I learned he had a real infatuation with them. He would talk about f*cking my sisters in my bed and stuff like that. I always took them for jokes, but they started to annoy me. I would never let anyone I knew from Marcy mess with my sisters. They were off limits as far as I was concerned. Especially Annie, who stayed in the house most of the day studying. I had to protect her from everyone, which push came to shove would include Dehaven.

As much as D liked to talk about my sisters, he loved talking about every other guys sisters as well. At only 9 he was always talking about getting pussy and fcking a b*tch.

It was a sore topic for me because I never got any play from the girls. But they always seemed to like messing with D. He was the only one of us that wasn’t a virgin and he held it over our heads, always talking about what he did to a girl.

“I put it in her butt first”.

“Ugh. Why did you do that?”

“To let her know who was boss, nigga”.

He had this thing about wanting to be a boss in everyones eyes, especially females. A 9 year old boss.

“Did you suck her titties too?” B-High asked, he was just as curious as I was about sex.

“Yeah and milk came out. It tasted good”.

“Did you wear a hat?” I asked.

“Hell no. She was on top. A girl can’t have a baby if she is on top” he said.

It was all enthralling to me. There wasn’t sex ed in my school, so we got bits and pieces of advice from conversations. I listened to conversations Eric would have about f*cking b*tches. He said the girl was suppose to jiggle his nuts like dice.

I once heard someone on the stoop saying if she ain’t swallowing, then she ain’t doing it right. I never understood that one. What was she suppose to swallow? I decided to ask D, he seemed to know about these things.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, the girl has to swallow your piss” he said.

“Why?” Ty Ty asked from his bed.

“Because that is what they do, you ugly Motherf*cker” D shot at him from the floor.

He still didn’t respect Ty, even after all of these sleepovers. Ty just stared at the TV, and didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night. I had more questions about why a girl would swallow pee, but I didn’t dare to ask. I just took it as the way things were.

I figured I would never get a chance to have a girl swallow my pee, or even get to touch her titties, because none of them checked for me. I had hand me downs from Eric, but most of them had bleach stains or them or something. I hated the way I looked wearing them. My hair was nappy and wouldn’t grow right so I could sport an afro like the cool cats. I was the ugly duckling from my crew, even B-High and TyTy had kissed a girl before.

When I turned 11, there was this girl that did eventually start liking me. Her name was Jazmine but everyone called her Jazz. She was a short and dark skinned girl, wore her hair in a ponytail, and had dimples. I really liked her, even though she had alot of baby fat. We met in homeroom.

I was writing poetry in my notebook, a poem about my dad.  She insisted on looking.

“What are you over there writing” she smiled.

“Nothing”.

“It’s something. Why you trying to hide it?”.

“It’s nothing”.

“Well let me see this nothing”.

“No”.

“Wow, you hurt my feelings” she smiled, putting her arms over her heart playfully.

I laughed, appreciating the attention she was giving to me. All of the other kids in the classroom were talking or throwing paper at each other, the teacher was reading a newspaper waiting for the bell to ring. I guess she had noticed I was the only one not being rowdy.  She had such an angelic voice, very soft and girly. Plus her dimples were too cute to me. I reluctantly let her hold my notebook and she begin reading. It was called “Dad, where are you?”

Dad
you have been gone
for a long time
mom waits by the phone
but you don’t call
i wait by the door
but you don’t come
are you ok?
are you in Texas
or Michigan
or in New York
Or alive
dad
where are you

She was all smiles when i had let her hold my notebook but now she was looking serious. I was embarrassed, regretting that I had let some stranger read something that was pretty private. I grabbed the notebook from off of her desk. She looked at me and smiled a weird smile. Not one of happiness, it seemed to be a sad smile, as if she could identify with something I had written.

“You are a great writer. What’s your name?” .

“Shawn”.

“I’m Jazmine. But everyone calls me Jazz”.

And from then on, Jazz and I were the best of friends. We would walk the halls together, talk about music, and I even rode a train to her apartment a few times. She couldn’t come outside or let me in, but from the screen door she would tell me she was glad I came to see her. I liked going to see her even if I couldn’t come inside. She was an escape from the anger and bitterness I felt at home fighting with Eric and missing my dad.

I still liked hanging out with D, B-High, and Ty Ty, but there was something different about hanging with her. She would write my name and her name in hearts on her folder. I wrote her a poem or two and we talked on the phone a few times.

“Aww, Shawn has his first girlfriend ma” Annie said one night during dinner.

Eric slurped his spaghetti and eyed me with a grin. “She look good little brother?”

“She is not my grilfriend”.

“Don’t be ashamed of your girlfriend, Shawn. That is not cute” Annie smiled.

“But she ain’t my girlfriend. She’s just my friend”.

“What’s her name?” my mother asked.

“Jazz”.

“Does she look good?” Eric persisted.

“Eric, stop it” Mickey said.

“I’ve seen her. She is a very cute and sweet girl” Annie added.

“Well Shawn. Girlfriend or not, you treat her like a lady, you hear?” my mom said.

“Yes Ma’am”.

I insisted to everyone that she wasn’t my girlfriend, but it was hard to resist the thoughts. She and I did hang out alot and I did like her. Maybe she was my girlfriend? Dehaven would put it all in perspective with his rants.

“You still ain’t f*ck her yet?”.

“Nah” I said, not knowing if that made me a lame or not.

“Damn my nigga. What you waiting for?”.

I didn’t know. It never occurred to me that it would be something I had to initiate, I always thought it would just happen. The thought of pissing in her mouth didn’t seem too appealing. But neither did remaining a virgin.

“Boy Jazz got you whipped. You mines as well change your name to Jazzy” Dehaven laughed.

“Jazz and Jazzy, sitting in a tree” B-High begin singing.

Dehaven thought the name Jazzy was hilarious, and since all of the people in the projects usually had a nickname, he started calling me that. I didn’t particularly learn that it was a diss, to take after her name, until much later. I liked having a nick name and I liked her, so I embraced it.

One day Jazz and I skipped school and came to my house while my mom was at work. Eric was in the living room sleeping, but I had told him that I would be bringing Jazz over. He thought it was funny, telling me beat it not eat it, whatever that meant, but he said he would stay out of our way.

When Jazz and I got into my room I didn’t know what to do or think. Was I suppose to get naked? Start taking off her clothes? What wasn’t I suppose to eat?

“Do you still have that poem? About your dad?” she asked, sitting Indian style on my bed.

“Yeah”.

“I’d like to have it, if that’s ok with you”.

“Sure. Why do you like it so much?”

“It makes me think. You wish your dad was here and everyday i wish my dad would leave” she said, staring out the window.

“Why?”

She didn’t answer, just continued looking out my window. I didn’t know how to respond or what to do, so I twiddled my thumbs and stared at the floor. We sat like this for what seemed like hours.

“Shawn, did you bring me here to have sex with me?”

“No. I mean, unless you want to”.

“I dont”.

“Ok”.

“Shawn I really like you. I think I might even love you. But I cant have sex right now. I can’t…” she stopped and looked at me. What was she trying to say?

She moved closer on the bed to where I was and moved her head closer to me. My heart thumped against my chest. Never had I been so close to a female, literally and figuratively. We kissed, a soft and powerful peck that i wish would have lasted longer than the second that it did. When she pulled back, she was smiling that smile full of dimples. I smiled back. I think I had fallen in love.

A few days later her dad got arrested and she was taken into child services. The newspaper said he had been raping her since she was 7 years old, and with him being the legal guardian she would be forced to go into a foster care system. She told a teacher at school who reported it to the police and her father was facing charges that could send him to prison for life. A further newspaper also reported that she was pregnant, presumably by her father.

I never got a chance to speak to her again, she was quickly sent out of Brooklyn and her chair next to me in homeroom was replaced. I didn’t understand what it all meant, and I didn’t understand why she had to be taken away from me.

Dehaven and B-High took it upon themselves to speculate about what it all meant. D had his own perspective, which would stick to my for a long time.

“Ugh. She let her dad have sex with her? That makes her a ho , Jazzy. You better be glad you never hit that”.

I had never thought about it like that. I hated her dad, but maybe D was right. Maybe that made her a ho  for letting her dad do that to her without telling anyone. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe she had no blame in any of this. I went back and forth in my head with what I thought.

“Don’t worry Jazzy. She was dark skinned and ugly anyway. You should only mess with the light skin pretty girls, they don’t do stuff like that” he said matter of factly.

I didn’t respond. I just went back to the way life was before Jazz. Empty, loveless, and bitter. Once again, I was the ugly kid that none of the girls liked.

February 13th, 1981

They say that Friday the 13th is a day of bad luck, bad misfortunes, and death. This Friday, I felt as if something inside of me died. I would forever hate Friday the 13th. My father had came home from truck driving and had a new gig working at the fish market. Things were going back to normal with our family. But this Friday morning would change my life and our family. It was the last time I saw my father, at least in the 20th century.

“You f*cking some other nigga?” he ranted in my mothers face.

“No Adnes. No” she yelled in tears.

Annie, Mickey, and Eric all met me in the hallway as we looked at our parents arguing in the kitchen.

“You throwing all of these house parties when I’m gone. And the men at work, saying they seen you with other men. What they lying? They lying to me? Huh? Why would they lie? You are the liar” he went on.

“I promise on my life. I have not cheated on you.”

“Then why do you have this niggas number”

“Adnes, that is the number to the DJ who helps me with the block party. He DJs for the neighboorhood”.

“And he do it for free huh? B*tch im not stupid. What he get out of it? Huh? You f*cking him Gloria? Answer me damnit”.

“No” my mother screamed.

I felt a knot in my stomach because I knew she was lying. I had seen her and the DJ many times, talking, smiling, and one night kissing. I didn’t know if they had been together sexually, but I did know they had spent time together. I didn’t blame her, I liked Rick, which was his name. He was a cool cat, always had the best records and gave me a few dollars every time he came over. He was cool in my book, and with daddy gone for months and never even calling to check up on us, I didn’t think she owed him anything.

Still, I felt sick to my stomach seeing her lie in his face. He deserved to at least know the truth.

“You are a sad excuse for a woman Gloria. Pathetic”.

Eric had seen enough.

“Don’t talk to my mom like that”.

My father looked furiously in his direction. Eric was 18 now, had been lifting weights and was almost the size as my tall and muscular father. But was Eric really stepping to him?

“What did you say, boy?”

“You heard me”.

He turned back to my mother.

“You see that. You done turned my own kids against me Gloria. They don’t have any respect. No respect at all.”

Eric stepped closer near my parents but I dont think he saw it coming. I know I didn’t and when my dad caught him with a left hook, he immediately fell to the ground. One punch and my older brother was out of the picture.

My mother jumped on him, punching, screaming, and kicking but what chance did she stand? He slapped her to the ground swiftly and looked over at me, waiting to see if i was going to make a move.

“What Shawn? You want to hit me too? You want to fight your dad too? Is that what you want, huh? Then do it damnit. Fight me boy. Let’s go”.

Spit was flying from his mouth as he screamed, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. He was clearly drunk but it was anger that was fueling his behavior. He was under the influence of anger. That his wife was cheating and his kids had turned against him. I stood frozen. I was afraid. Mickey and Annie ran towards my mother who was on the ground holding her eye. I just stood there, frozen in time, staring at my father.

It was the last image I would see of him for nearly 20 years.

“I quit this family. I f*cking quit” he said, grabbing his cap and bolting out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Mickey begin running after him, she had always been a daddy’s girl, being the first born. But he was gone, out of her life, out of my life, out of our lives. He left us on that cold Friday morning, left us to live without him.

I was broken after witnessing firsthand domestic violence but my mother insisted I not miss school.

“Shawn. You have a book report today. Go to school” she said.

“No.”.

“Shawn listen to me. I am still your mother. You are going to school”.

“No”.

I was crying now, unable to cope with the rush of emotions that were stirring inside of me. I didn’t want to go to school, I wanted to be with my mommy. I wanted to stay with her and make sure dad didn’t come back ready to fight again. I would be ready this time, to defend her. I felt ashamed for not defending her.

“Michelle. Eric. Please take your brother to school” my mother said before making her way to the bathroom to clean herself up.

I kicked and screamed as they tried to get me out the door. Eric took this opportunity to shut me up and take control of the situation. He punched me directly in the stomach, a punch so hard that I felt it hit my back.

“Look lil nigga. If you don’t want to be like that piece of sh*t daddy of ours. Then take your ass to school and learn something. Get out of these projects and make something of your life. Ok?”.

I didn’t respond, just walked slowly with my backpack to school with him and Mickey escorting me. In one punch, he had defeated me. I vowed to one day become strong enough to overpower him like that. His advice to me went in one ear and out the other.

I had always liked school, at least the subjects that interested me. I was a natural in math but I loved history and English. It was Black History month and everyone in my history class had to do a report on an important African American. I had picked Jackie Robinson, the first black baseball player in the pros. He was also an activist for civil rights. My dad has suggested Jackie Robinson as the person I did my report on.

“He was my hero growing up” he said to me.

He told me how his greatest childhood memory was going to a Yankee game and getting to see him play live. Once he told me that story, I knew I wanted to do my report on Jackie Robinson. And with the help of my mom, I wrote a 5 page paper on him.

As I sat in class, I stared down at my paper and thought about all of the hard work I had put into it. I read book after book and wrote for hours getting it just right. I wanted an A+ so that I could bring it home and show my father. Show him that I got an A+ on a report about his hero. I wanted to make him proud.

But now, after the mornings events, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about the A, or making him proud, or even being in school. I didn’t care. I wanted to be out in the streets with Dehaven and B-High.

The teacher was calling for each student to read a summary of their report in front of the class, and since she went by alphabetical order, I was one of the first students called on to present.

“Shawn Carter” the teacher smiled.

She was a petite, dark skinned teacher. She had marched for civil rights and was one of those new and improved teachers that was trained to specifically teach a new integrated classroom.  She always liked me, said I wrote well and that I had a good memory. I memorized the dates of the major historical moments in history like Columbus discovering America and the World Wars and even the list of American Presidents. I had a very good memory. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I also didn’t want to report or talk.

“No” I said.

“What do you mean no, Shawn? It’s your turn to present”.

“I don’t want to.”

“Shawn. You have to present to get a grade”.

She was beginning to look displeased with me, but oh well.

“Then don’t give me a grade. Shit, I don’t give a f*ck”.

The class all begin talking amongst themselves and snickering. She looked concerned as she looked at me, confused. I could tell she was shocked by what she had heard from one of her most promising students. After a few seconds of looking at me she went to her desk and wrote on a referral.

“Shawn, could you come here please?” she said.

I walked over and she handed me a hall pass along with the referral.

She whispered to me “I hope all is going well in your home. But I can’t have you speaking like that in this classroom. Please go see the principal” she gently said.

I didn’t say a word, just frowned my face, grabbed my bags and left my report on my desk.

“Shawn. I had to call your mother because of your use of profanity” the principle said once I came into the office.

“I don’t give a f*ck” I said.

I really didn’t. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I just didn’t care.

My mother came in less than half an hour later to pick me up. Her eye was black and puffy and she looked as if she had been crying. The principle noticed it, I was sure because her mouth dropped once she saw my usually very put together mother. She then looked at me in a way I never saw before. She looked sorry for me, sorry for us.

Ironically, I did end up getting an A+ on that paper.

May 16th, 1981

I finished sweeping up my hair as Rick and Eric begin moving the stereo speakers downstairs. Eric had lined up my high top fade and was now helping to set up for the block party. My mom liked to have one every few months but with a new family moving in on our floor she decided to have the second one in three weeks. She wanted to welcome them into the neighborhood.

Our block parties usually didn’t have much drama or fights like other block parties. I guess they all respected my mom too much to rain on her parade when she was doing something positive for the community. Our block parties had gotten so big, that now people from other boros even would show up. All of the hustlers were there, in new clothes and flashing their new jewelry.

You had to be fresh when you came to the block party, as flashing was one of the reasons people went. The girls got their hair and nails done and would wear their best outfit. My Mom usually had the block parties around the 1st of the month or the 15th, when the welfare checks came. This gave them no excuse for looking bummy. Eric had let me wear some of his gear, which had me feeling especially confident.

Maybe this would finally be the night I got a girl to look at me. I was getting dressed in my room when Dehaven burst in, with a  Mets cap on his head and a matching sweat suit.

“What’s cracking home skillet” he said as we gave each other pounds.

“You looking fresh” I said.

“No doubt. I see Eric let you sport some of his shit”.

“Yeah, maybe I can finally catch some pussy tonight”.

“It’s going to be a lot of b*tches out there man. If you don’t get any tonight, then I doubt you ever will” he laughed.

“Shawn, come here” my mother yelled from the kitchen.

I walked out of my room and noticed dozens of random people in our apartment. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, my mother needed helpers as people brought food from the kitchen down the stairs and outside. I saw a kid standing there watching as Dehaven and I emerged. He was a pretty boy for real, ear ring in his ear and a toothpik in his mouth.

“Hey baby. Could you entertain Shaw. He just moved here” my mother said, before focusing on the commotion in the kitchen about which potato salad was going with who.

Shaw looked apprehensive. I could tell her didn’t know what to think of us. Hell, I didn’t know what to think of him. But I had to adhere to my moms wishes and hang out with him, at least for a few minutes to make her satisfied. Shaw’s mother and my mother talked in the kitchen, as I motioned for Shaw to follow me and Dehaven downstairs.

“Aunt Glo. Can I get a cupcake” Dehaven asked my mother.

“Now Dehaven. You know you can’t eat until everyone else eats” my mother smiled.

“Aww come on Aunt Glo. Just one?”

“Out Dehaven” she pointed.

He laughed and made a face at her, before following me and Shaw. I dont think my mom particularly cared for him calling her auntie, but she never voiced it as a concern. She just would always laugh when he did.

We got outside and the block was buzzing with excitement. Rick had set up his DJ equipment and was just beginning to scratch records. We walked around for a few minutes just to peep who had shown up. I saw Danny-Dan talking to a few females, shining from his diamonds. He was the definition of a hustler and he was a ladies man. Dehaven and I always looked up to him.

Eric was throwing dice with a few dudes huddled around and Annie and Mickey were surrounded by other females. Red, the current kingpin of the projects was leaned up against a car with a few of his soldiers. They preferred to watch the block part from a distance.

Dehaven motioned with his eyes for me to look at Shaw, who seemed to be amazed by what he was seeing. The block was alive with music and women and drugs and it amazed him. This was New York, BK, and it was new to him.

“Where you from?” I asked.

“Chicago” he dryly said.

“Why yall move here?” Dehaven asked.

“My pops left us”.

I knew immediately where he was coming from. Still, I could tell Dehaven didn’t like him. He was too pretty and Dehaven disliked pretty boys. He also didn’t like light skinned dudes, although he loved light skinned women, go figure.

“You know how to fight” Dehaven asked bluntly.

I could tell Shaw didn’t know how to respond to the question. Dehaven had just turned 12, but was known around the projects as pound for pound one of the best scrappers. He loved to fight. He felt you weren’t a man if you weren’t fighting on the regular. It was the only true way to test Shaw.

“Yea” he responded, softly, barely above a whisper.

We spotted Ty Ty posted up with B-High as they sipped on sodas. I whistled towards them.

“Sup niggas” B-High smirked, giving us all pounds, except Shaw.

“Who this?”

“He just moved into the projects. This is his first introduction to Marcy” Dehaven said, with an esoteric smile on his face.

“Yeah nigga. Welcome to Marcy baby. How you like it?” I smiled, knowing what was about to happen.

“It’s cool” he responded, unsure of himself.

“How old are you?” Dehaven asked.

“13 next month” .

“Aight, then this will be a fair fight. We’ll let you slap box Ty Ty first” Dehaven laughed.

Ty Ty knew the deal, he had been trying to prove himself to us by fighting whenever he had the chance. He was tired of being left behind and thought of as too small to be in the clique. This would be a good test for him, even though Shaw was a good 20 pounds heavier and 2 inches taller.

“You do know how to slap box right?” B-High asked.

Shaw shook his head yes, although we all knew he didn’t want to fight.

“Well throw up your set then nigga” Dehaven insisted.

Ty Ty wasted no time throwing up his ready to gain some respect. A small crowed begin gathering around us as Dehaven hyped it on.

“Don’t b*tch up now Chicago. You in New York now. Brooklyn nigga. Marcy” Dehaven exclaimed.

“Those lil niggas about to fight” I heard Eric say.

James Brown “The Boss” blasted on the speakers as sets were thrown up.

Shaw put his hands up as Ty Ty went in on him swinging wildly. Although they were using open hands to box, there was nothing playful about this bout. It was for respect and out here in the hood, respect was all you had. Ty Ty swung for his respect, catching Shaw one good time on his right cheek. The slap echoed loudly, even above the loud music voice of James Brown screaming “‘Bad Mutha’.

The crowd cheered loudly for little Ty, who was definitely smaller. If Shaw wasn’t careful, he was close to forever being labeled as a b*tch, something that would remain with him for as long as he lived in Marcy. Maybe he realized this or the smack just woke him up, but he begin swinging hard at Ty, eventually delivering a combo of loud smacks to his face. It didn’t take but 5 or 6 consecutive blows from Shaw for Ty to fall on the ground. Shaw bounced up and down as if he was really in the boxing ring, fighting for a championship belt.

“Pick on someone your own size” we heard someone from the crowd say.

It was Rendell, or Big Ren as we called him. He was a fat and sloppy dude, but mean, incredibly mean. He was something of a loner, as people made fun of him for being fat and having a learning disability. But they never made fun of him in his face though, this was just something we heard behind his back. Dehaven liked him though, because he could fight and wasn’t afraid to fight.

I thought this would be an interesting bout. Shaw threw his set back up as Big Ren approached. Ty Ty had gotten off the ground and walked near me, I playfully pushed my lil nigga in the arm.

“Good fight” I whispered to him. He smiled.

Ren wasn’t smiling when he threw up his set. Shaw, now not having the size advantage had to rush him. He stepped into his right hook but Ren blocked it. Ren was surprisingly agile and managed to get a few good licks in on Shaw’s left cheek. Shaw wasn’t about to go down without getting his so he returned the favor with a good lick on Ren’s face. SLAP!

The small crowd that was watching laughed at the two middle schoolers going at it. Big Ren didn’t like getting hit, he was more of a brawler than a boxer and not surprisingly, he turned serious and punched Shaw with a closed fist. Shaw only responded by punching him back with a closed fist. They weren’t slap boxing anymore, they were fighting.

“The hell are yall doing” I heard my mother scream from behind me.

“Shaw? What is going on?” his mother asked.

“We are just playing around, ma” Shaw said to his mom out of breath.

“Yeah, we are just playing around” Big Ren echoed, knowing if he got caught fighting he wouldn’t be able to get any of the food.

My mom didn’t play when it came to fighting at her parties.

“Boys. Yall just have to play so rough” my mom said shaking her head.

“Are you sure you were just playing?” Shaws mom asked.

He laughed and extended his arm to Big Ren. Ren caught on, slowly, but did give Shaw a pound. This signal caused for both my mom and Shaw’s mom to roll their eyes as they walked away from us.

There was a new respect for Shaw. He could have went crying to his mom, but he didn’t. He stood his ground.

“You got heart” Dehaven said when the parents were out of earshot and the crowd had dissipated and were enjoying the food and music.

Shaw didn’t say anything, just caught his breath. We all looked at each other and gave a knowing nod. Shaw was cool with us.

“Damn, I wish I had a joint” B-High said.

Ty Ty coughed and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a bag of weed. He was doing everything he could to gain our respect and get in the crew.

“My nigga” Dehaven said.

“Yo Ty, can we go to your crib and smoke this?” B-High asked.

Ty nodded, and all of us, Dehaven, Shaw, B-High, Ty, and Big Ren walked to his crib and rolled a few joints.

Shaw showed that he knew how to roll joints which further gave him respect in our eyes, but it wasn’t until we started talking about girls that his respect level soared.

“Yeah man. Back in Chicago, I had a few girlfriends.”

“You f*ck em?” Dehaven asked.

“All the time”.

Unlike Dehaven, when Shaw talked about the girls he slept with it didn’t seem contrived. He was informed about the topics he spoke on. He knew that girls didn’t swallow pee or that being on top prevented pregnancy. I had learned from Eric that half of the shit Dehaven had told me about girls wasn’t true. Eric said that D was lying about it all and was probably a virgin himself.

I looked at D as Shaw talked about his sexual prowess and he looked enthralled.  It was then that I knew the truth, D was just as inexperienced and ignorant as I was about girls. Shaw was the new nigga I would be seeking advice from.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this night planted the seed of our first real crew. It wasn’t until we met Manny that our crew would become official, though.

June 23, 1981

There was a shooting last night, a cop was shot in the leg. Because of it, there were police cars everywhere. Hell, the cop survived and there were more police in the projects than when a little girl was killed last year by a stray bullet. It always bothered me how alive the police department became when an officer was punched or shot. The cop would be on paid leave, collecting a paycheck while sitting at home watching TV. Why did they care so much?

Eric would tell me they only came to the projects to beat the shit out of niggas. So as Dehaven, Ty Ty, and I sat on a bench and watched, we watched and waited for the police to attack. We were nosy more than anything, wanting to see firsthand what was going down in the projects. The chatter from around the way was that the gun that was used on the cop was missing. They said they needed the gun for fingerprints.

I figured whoever shot the cop was a hood hero, especially if he would be able to get away with it. When he shot the cop, he threw the gun somewhere. The cops were out looking everywhere for it, and I figured someone from Marcy had found it and was now hiding it. We weren’t going to turn one of our own in, especially over a cop. I smiled as I watched the cops snarl at each project roamer that walked by their squad cars. I knew it irritated them that they didn’t have a suspect, even worst that any one of us could have been the one who fired the shots.

It tickled me thinking that one of these cats had shot the cop and was now smiling in the face of the officers. By the time noon came around, the sun was beaming hard and kids were now outside playing with water guns. I longed to play with a watergun but Dehaven said we had to stop acting like kids. I was only 12 but had adapted the mindset of someone much older. Ty Ty went in the apartment and brought out a tray of ice cubes which we sucked on to keep cool.

“Shawn, ma is looking for you” Annie said as she walked up to us on the bench.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she wants you out here with the police roaming around”.

I sucked my teeth. I wasn’t going in for that.

“Hey Annie” Dehaven said, seductively.

“Hi, De-Haven” she replied, smugly.

“So when me and you going to…you know” he joked.

“Boy please. Gon’ somewhere”.

“I’ll make you satisfied”.

“Chill” I said to D, annoyed at his pressing.

Dehaven laughed, “Just playing dawg”.

“Tell Ma, I’ll be home in an hour”.

Annie looked at me and then at my friends, I knew she didn’t like me hanging out with them. But what could she do? She nodded, waved to Ty Ty, and left. If anything, she was cool with me hanging with Ty because he wasn’t known in the projects for getting into trouble.

“Damn man your sister is fine” D said.

“Look, Manny!” Ty Ty pointed out before I had a chance to respond to D’s comment about Annie.

Manny was a Spanish kid that we knew of, but didn’t really know personally. He was an older dude, around 17 or 18 but didn’t have much of a strong rep. He would come to Marcy for Hayes, the weed man, and chat it up with a few dudes here and there, but no one really f*cked with him beyond that. Eric told me that he was an outcast from his own family. I never understood that.

Even though he was older than my crew, around here things like that didn’t matter. Once kids hit 13 they were considered men. 13 year olds hanging with 18 year olds was common, both were men of their homes and selling drugs. The only difference was in facial hair and tone of voice.

“Whassup Manny” Dehaven said as he approached.

“Nothing much. I see this block is on lock” Manny replied.

“Yeah man. Cop got shot last night. It’s hot right now”.

Manny chuckled to himself and looked around.

“You want to see something that will make things even hotter?”

“What’s that?” I asked curiously. What was up Manny’s sleeve and why did he has a twinkle in his eye.

He did one more double take and reached in his pants, pulling out a gun. It was a .22, I was sure, but Manny held it close to his body. Immediately, I knew what Manny was talking about.

“Is that…the gun?” Dehaven asked.

“Yeah. Found it near the trash.”

“What you gonna do with it?” I asked.

“Sell it to Big O”.

Big O was the local gun man, he illegally sold guns but he never sold them to kids, saying it was unethical. This was why Dehaven and I hadn’t gotten a gun yet. Big O was a small dude, no bigger than 5’1 and a buck 10. I still didn’t understand why he was called Big O, but figured he never ran with killers because of his size. He instead acted as a seller of arms.

“For how much?” D asked.

I knew immediately D would pay double just to get his hands on the gun.

“300″.

“Sell it to me for 4″.

Manny looked cautiously at D and then once again looked around. He had to be wondering how we even had 400 to spend. Petty theft eventually did pay off.

“D, the f*ck you need a gun for?” Manny asked.

“450″ D said.

Manny assessed the situation by putting his hand to his chin. He looked like one of those philosophy statues. After a few moments of tension, he broke it down by expressing the thoughts that would change all of our lives.

“How about this instead. My uncle is Jose, Spanish Jose. “

“Spanish Jose? From Staten Island?” Ty Ty asked.

We had all heard of him, he was becoming somewhat of a legend around these parts. He was supplying many dealers with coke and weed.

“Yeah. And I have been trying to convince him to let me get some weed to sell. But he says unless I get a crew, I won’t get a package”.

“So what are you thinking?” I asked.

“Yall hustle, right?” Manny asked.

He knew about D being an infamous trouble maker and me being his right hand man, hustling seemed to be right up our alley. Of course, we had never hustled before, but this was our chance. This was the opportunity we had been looking for.

“We want to” D said sternly.

Manny looked at D and then at me and Ty Ty. D knew that Ty was a weak link and had to convince Manny we could be a legit team.

“I could get together a group of niggas” D said.

“Ok. If you can get together a group of dudes. Thorough dudes. No bullshit. Then we can all team together and get my uncle to give us a package.”

“And what about the gun?” I asked.

“If we are a crew. Then we’d need our own gun” Manny smiled.

D worked quickly in getting a crew together. We met at Ty Ty’s house and officially established ourselves.

Manny originally would be the leader, with Dehaven acting as his right hand man. The rest of the crew would be B-High, Big Ren, Shaw, myself, and Ty Ty, although Ty would be involved by letting us use his house. His mom was gone alot so we could always crash there if need be.

This was the first crew, the crew that would introduce me to the life of a hustler. But it would take some time.

August-September 1981

Manny struggled to get his uncle to take us serious. He was headstrong in not giving us any drugs to sell. Even in rejection, we held tight as a crew and started getting some rep in the projects. We got into fights with other older and more established crews and held our ground.

We we at the basketball courts one day and got into it with a guy named Snoopy. He was an ugly motherf*cker, nappy hair, a missing tooth, and oily black skin. We beat his team for $100 but he refused to pay up. Dehaven wasn’t having that so we engaged in a court brawl.

We left with cuts, bruises, and $100 bucks. Snoopy ended up pulling out a razor, and Manny pulled out our gun. One glance at the gun caused Snoopy and his crew to retreat. We now had the juice amongst our peers, known as scrappy fighters with Dehaven and Ren and we also had a gun to our name.

Big Ren lived for fighting since he wasn’t very good at anything else. He struggled at math, barely knowing his times tables. We figured once we did start hustling we would never let him handle the money, he would just be our muscle.

Manny would only come around a few days a week, so in his absence, Dehaven would take control of our clique. He was natural at bossing us around and it was starting to go to his head. He told Big Ren to shut the f*ck up one time and Ren responded by punching his little ass in the gut. This started a brawl in Ty Ty’s living room, one Dehaven managed to win when he ended up hitting Ren in the face with a metal cigarette ashtray that was on the coffee table.

Ren gushed blood all over Ty’s mom’s sofa. We all ended up getting kicked out of Ty’s crib indefinitely, but we learned that day that Dehaven was the baddest of all of us. Even Ren now had a fear of him.

Shaw was the ladies man in the group, as he seduced girls with his good looks and charm. In school he would whisper in a girls ear and get their number just as easily. It amazed us at how easy it came for him.

“Jazzy, I dare you to grab her ass” B-High said to me at lunch one day.

Shaw laughed “That’s Patricia. She don’t play that Jazz”.

“I’ll give you $5″ B-High said, pulling out a crisp 5 dollar bill.

I wanted to prove to them that I wasn’t afraid and could get girls. The only girl I had ever gotten was Jazmine, but she was now long gone. It was about time I moved on from her. I walked over to Patricia while she was in line getting her lunch. I looked back at B and Shaw who were laughing. I then looked down at Patricia’s big fat ass. It was plump even in her tight jeans. I wanted to do more than grab it. I would do anything to get with a girl like her.

She turned around abruptly and smiled when she saw me.

“Oh, hey Jazzy” she smiled before getting an apple from the line.

“Hey” I replied back.

Damn, I was having second thoughts about touching her. She turned around and kept walking in line and I turned back to my friends who were nearly in tears laughing at my hesitation. Ok, here goes nothing I thought as I decided to stop being afraid. I smacked her left ass cheek with my hand as powerful as I could. It resulted in a loud smack that was heard throughout the noisy lunch room line.

She turned around with anger in her eyes and before I could laugh, smile, frown, run, or do anything to hide my embarrassment she punched me dead in the eye.

“Don’t touch me ever again you ugly ass nigga” she screamed.

I stumbled slightly into the person in the back of me and her meat loaf slammed into my buttoned up shirt. I had now been punched in the face by a girl and had red ketchup stains on my shirt. All my boys did was laugh as I walked out of line and endured the roars of laughter from the lunch room. When I got to the table, B-High was crying and hanging me the bill. I felt like an idiot.

And that’s how it was with me and girls. I was too shy to really approach any and when I did, I ended up saying something stupid. My voice was cracking and I had acne, plus my clothes were out of date.  I hated that I was so skinny and had big lips and a weird voice. I figured girls hated the same thing.

I still couldn’t stop the thoughts I had of girls. I even dreamed about Patricias phat ass bouncing in my lap. I would touch myself and think about the girls from school that laughed at me. I wanted to f*ck all of them ironically. I wanted to throw them on the bed and look in their eyes, making them regret the times they laughed at me. I discovered masturbating at this time.

It felt good and I found myself doing it alot. Morning, afternoon, and before I went to sleep. I even hid in the closet and jacked off one time when Eric was having sex with one of his girlfriends. It wasn’t too long before people started to realize what I was always thinking about. I was in the bathroom jacking off to one of Big Ren’s playboy magazines when I heard a knock at the door.

“What?” I screamed.

“Shawn you been in there 15 minutes. Get the f*ck out” Eric yelled.

“Hold up” I said, rubbing my dick hard and trying to hurry up.

“You in there jacking off or sum’n?” he asked, or rather accused.

“No”.

I came and wiped myself off, sticking Ren’s magazine in my pants pocket. When I emerged from the bathroom, he was all grins.

“You was in there jacking off, wasn’t you”.

“Nah man. I was taking a sh*t”.

He walked in the bathroom and smelled the air.

“Nigga, it doesn’t even stank in here” he laughed.

“Whatever” I said, trying to walk past him.

He stopped me in my place after seeing the bulge in my jeans. I was caught. He reached inside of my pockets and pulled out the magazine, and laughed. I couldn’t understand why he was laughing so hard.

“Dang man. I thought you was constipated or something. You are just in need of some pussy”.

I didn’t how how to respond so I didn’t. I just stared at his grinning ass.

“Look Shawn. If you need me to hook you up with some hoes, just let me know. I can’t have my little brother going out…like this” he laughed.

He handed me back the magazine and I left, angry. It wasn’t like I wasn’t trying to get some pussy, we’d all talk about strategies at sleepovers at Shaw’s crib. Ty Ty’s parents were still mad at us for spilling blood on their furniture, so we had to go to Shaw’s.

“Shaw, how do you get the girls to let you hit though?” Dehaven asked.

“Yeah Shaw. What’s the secret to getting pussy” Ren echoed.

“Yall niggas just have to be more smooth and confident. Say nice and slick shit like ‘look at you looking cute in your curls’ or some shit like that. Or buy them something nice. They like shit like that”.

“Ok. Say I bought a b*tch some candy. And said she looked cute in her new hairdo. Then what? How do I get the drawls to drop?” I asked.

“I always playfight with a girl to see how touchy/feely she is. If she playfights with you back and starts trying to hit you in the crotch, then best believe she wants to f*ck. Accidentally hit her titties and shit like that. Eventually, just ask could yall hang out after school. Bring them to the crib and knock it out”.

Shaw sounded intelligent, and we knew it was good advice because it had worked for him plenty of times. He was smashing girls every other week, good looking ones too. I just had to know what it was like, my hand wasn’t working anymore.

I was determined to try his advice out on a girl I had a crush on. Her name was Cassidy and she was a bubble gum chewing big breasted girl from the projects. She was our age, but looked much older. I thought she was the finest girl in the projects, and it helped that I knew for sure that she was f*cking. She would be in the projects late at night with her girlfriends, smoking weed and gossiping. Our crew would walk by theirs and trash talk, I thought I saw her smile at me one time. I knew from then that I wanted it. So much, that I told Shaw to fall back from trying to get at her.

“You like her Jazzy?” Shaw asked.

“I want to try and hit it”.

“My fault man. You want her number? Her friend gave it to me a week ago.”

“No. I want to get it in my own”.

“I feel you. Well good luck with that bruh. She is a feisty chick”.

I jacked off thinking about Cassidy twice that Friday and once night fell and everyone was outside chilling with their crews I decided to use my game on her. I didn’t want to do it with my crew around because I figured they would distract me, especially Dehaven. I had to do this on my own.

Just like usual, her and her friends were sitting on a parked car, smoking weed and gossiping. I was walking towards them with my hoody on, it was a cold chill that night. I thought about walking past them and just forgetting the whole thing but stopped in my place once I heard them all start laughing. I wondered what they were laughing at. Did someone make a joke? Was I the joke? I tried to remain smooth and confident.

“Here” I said fast, too fast, as I walked and gave Cassidy some chocolates I had bought from the store.

They laughed even harder, except Cassidy who was wide eyed at my gesture. I couldn’t tell if this was good or bad.

“What’s this?”

“Just a gift. Um. You looking cute in your new hair” I smiled.

She looked at me crazily, “Boy, I have a hat on”.

I looked at herself clearly for the first time and saw that she was right. I couldn’t even look in her eyes, she was too fine and intimidating. I looked towards the ground and mumbled “oh” under my breath.

“Aww. Look like you got a secret admirer Cas” one of her friends said.

I thought about playfighting with her but thought against doing it. Shaw’s advice had failed me so far, I wasn’t confident or smooth. They just looked at me, waiting for me to say something else. I decided to skip to the last step.

“Cas. I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out with me or something”.

I was still looking towards the ground, afraid to look her in her piercing eyes. I noticed she had on new sneakers. I wondered how she managed to be so fly in a hood with so much poverty. My sneakers were raggedy.

“Um. Sorry Boo. You ain’t my type. Plus, I got a man”.

“Why you lying to the boy, Cas.”

“I’m not lying Brandy. I do have a man”.

“That ain’t never stopped you before heifer. Talking about he ain’t your type. Just say he ugly and be honest” the girl said.

They begin laughing.

“Brady don’t say that. He ain’t…all that ugly” Cas grinned.

They begin debating my looks as if I wasn’t even there. Emotionally, I wasn’t there. I was dead.

“Ain’t he the boy that hang with Shaw?” one girl asked.

Brady eyed me up and down and nodded.

“Ooo Yes girl that is him. Hey, could you tell Shaw to call me? I gave him Cas’s number the other day. Tell him to call Cassidy so he can talk to me”.

“Bitch why you gave that boy my number? You know I don’t mess with lil boys” Cassidy said.

The girls begin arguing amongst each other and I just turned around and begin walking away.

“Hey, give me some of those chocolates” I heard one of her obnoxious girlfriends say to Cassidy.

“And tell Shaw to call me!” I heard Brandy scream at me.

I tried to tune them out but I heard everything they were saying. My feelings were beyond hurt. I hated Cassidy and every girl like her. I hated them.

December 4th, 1981

I spent most of my 13th birthday hanging with my clique. We smoked, drink a little, and ate some cupcakes that Shaw’s mom had baked for me. Afterwards I went home to my mom who surprisingly was meeting me with open arms. Why was she so happy?

“Shawn. Happy birthday sweety. “

I felt the warmth in her voice and it made me feel good, even better than the weed I had smoked earlier. She pointed towards the Christmas tree in our living room where two presents were sitting, wrapped in birthday paper. We always decorated our crib early but she would hide our gifts and wrap them Christmas eve. These were obviously birthday gifts, or early Christmas gift, whatever way I wanted to look at it.

I was excited because one of them was huge. The small one next to it paled in comparison. I immediately ran over to the big gift and begin tearing off the paper. My heart dropped when I saw what it was. A boombox, my own f*cking boombox. I knew she had spent hundreds on it, or maybe her DJ friend gave her a discount on it, it didn’t matter. I was ecstatic.

She smiled as I begin thanking her for the gift. I loved music, especially the hip hop that was starting to become popular at the block parties my mom would throw. This meant I could carry it with me everywhere I went. It was a strange but exciting reality.

“Open the other one Shawn” she said, shushing me back to the tree.

I put the Boombox on the sofa and ripped open the small one, halfway hoping it was batteries. Instead it was a book with a note from one of my teachers, the teacher that had written me up a referral the day my father left. It was called Manchild In the Promiseland by Claude Brown. The note said

“Shawn, I believe this book will help you in a major way. I read it and thought about you. Hopefully it touches you in the same way that it touched me. Happy birthday”

I pretended to be excited and interested in the book to please my mom but immediately threw it on the sofa and went to experiment with my boombox.

I immediately picked up a few radio stations and then realized I needed to buy some tapes so I could play them. I had always wanted money to blow on nothing in particular, but the particular would now become batteries and tapes for my boombox. I had always liked writing poems, but I would start reading them to the beats from the hip hop songs.

I loved everything about the new music called hip hop, but my favorite song was The Message by Grandmaster Flash. Rick even taught me how to loop the instrumental so I could create a beat and rap over it. I usually just spoke my poetry over it but eventually I started writing raps to go along with it, The rest of the month I would rap with the boombox and create little songs to The Message instrumental.

On Chrismas Eve in particular, I was in the middle of creating a song about Jazmine to the beat. I called it “Jazzy Day”.

“I once knew a girl, I called her Jazzy
she was a girl that made me happy
but one day she was raped by her daddy
-”

Mickey walked from out of her room and yelled at me.

“Shawn, I have to work tomorrow morning. Can you please go to sleep. It’s 3 in the morning”.

When she went back to bed, I turned the boombox up even louder and continued rapping.

“Dont push me cuz I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head”

Eric walked from out of the room with sleepy red eyes. Without any hint of joking around he punched me in the gut “Shut that garbage shit up and go to sleep”.

I tried to hit him back but he was so much stronger and bigger than me that it was pointless. I fell to the floor clutching my stomach as he hit the off button on my boom-box.

“Don’t make me come back out here” he warned before going back in his room.

This was how my Christmas morning begin.

January 2, 1982

B-High, Dehaven, Big Ren, Shaw, and I were hanging together in the snowy night, passing around joints that kept us semi warm. It was only 8 PM so we didn’t want to go inside because we were sure our parents would make us stay inside. They were the “don’t be coming in and out” type. If we wanted to piss, we just had to go in the snow. We were bored, wanting to get into some type of trouble but figuring it was too cold to do anything crazy.

Shaw said his girl’s mom would be going to work soon so he was going to get some pussy. The thought of him getting a chance to go to a girls warm crib and get some warm pussy angered us. His success with women was starting to strain our friendship with him. I mean, he was cool about it, but jealousy is a b*tch.

“Let us roll with you” Dehaven asked.

Shaw looked uneasy at his friend but eventually agreed, probably feeling sorry for us. We made the short walk across the projects to his girls crib. She met him at the door in tshirt and panties but covered herself once she saw us standing behind him. It looked so warm inside her crib with her Christmas lights still up and shining. She was fine as hell too, she looked warm and cuddly. Light skin with long black hair.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“My mans. Don’t worry, they ain’t no trouble”.

She let us in and cut on the TV for us, right to college football recaps.

“Yall hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah” Ren immediately spoke up.

Shaw sat down and smiled, he had this girl whipped and he knew it. He was going to stunt in front of us with his b*tch. She went into the kitchen and fixed us pancakes, serving us like she was a maid. I was enamored with it all. I was envious of it all. She sat next to Shaw on the sofa and watched as as we ate the pancakes.

Ren ate three down in minutes but I took my time. I didn’t like seeming like a beggar or homeless. I was more concerned with the cute chick that was so down for Shaw and wondering how he did it. He was only 13, the same age as us, and this 15 year old shorty was treating him like a king. How was he doing it?

Once there was an awkward silence, Shaw decided to introduce us to her.

“Kathy, this is B-High, Dehaven, Jazzy, and Big Ren. My best friends in the world”.

“Nice to meet you” she smiled, waving at us all, “Yall have some interesting names. How did you get them?”.

We told her, very short in our explanations. We were all thinking the same thing. Was Shaw going to share his girl with us? We were all virgins, except for Dehaven who claimed he wasn’t, but either way we all wanted her.

“Well, I am going to take a shower, ok?” she said to Shaw before retiring to the bathroom.

We didn’t say much, but we all grinned. We had to admit that Shaw was the man. After only a few minutes, she came out of the bathroom naked with a towel on. We stared in awe of her glistening yellow skin. She walked right over to Shaw who stood up and met her with a kiss.

“Can we leave them out here?” she whispered, but loud enough for us to hear.

He smiled and begin leading her to a bedroom.

“Yo, we’ll be out in a minute. Just chill” Shaw said before they went into the bedroom and closed the door.

None of us said a word at first, we didn’t know how to react. Dehaven though, grew angry at what had just happened. I figured he was angry because he was sitting there with a hard dick like the rest of us, but wasn’t going to be getting any.

“That nigga Shaw is selfish man” Dehaven said.

We all nodded. We had been punked. Shaw wasn’t going to share that dime-piece with us.

“Yo, let’s go get some more Phillies before the store closes” B-High said.

We grabbed our jackets as Big Ren ran to the kitchen and made him a sandwich and then we left. It was snowing hard, causing us to pull out hoody strings to cover our faces from the wind. I wanted to be at Kathy’s place, in her warm living room looking at her warm naked body. I wondered if Shaw was still hitting it and in what position. My dick kept the inside of my legs warm as it stood hard. I think we were all horny which is why what happened next seemed to be some sort of miracle.

“The f*ck yall lil niggas out here for?” Danny-Dan asked as we passed his apartment building. He was one of the true hustlers in our projects and a ladies man. He did everything from selling weed to pimping, he was our hero.

“Going to the store” I managed to say through my hoody.

“It looks like yall looking to get into something” he responded, grinning.

“Like what?” Dehaven asked.

“Look. I got a heated apartment and a fine b*tch that will let all of yall f*ck.”

“Let us f*ck?” Ren asked, confused.

“Yeah. I mean, for a small fee of course” Danny-Dan smiled.

“How much?” Dehaven asked.

“How much yall got?”.

We only had a few dollars individually to get Phillies, but when we put all of our money together it equaled $17.

“17? That’s it? It’s 4 of yall. You got to come better than that. This girl I got is fine man. A pure dime.”

We reached into our pockets and pulled out lint. I then thought about the wrist watch I had been wearing, a watch I had stolen from some dude in the city.

“What about this?” I asked.

Danny-Dan snatched it and examined before nodding his head “I guess this will do. But yall don’t have enough to get your dick sucked. Just pussy”.

We didn’t care. We were still in shock that we were about to f*ck a dime. It seemed surreal as we begin being led through the apartment building and up the steps. I looked at B-High who looked nervous. Ren was smiling and Dehaven was staring at Danny-Dan who was counting a stack of money. I could see the envy in Dehavens eyes.

We got to the apartment and Danny-Dan looked at us cautiously.

“Look niggas. What happens in here. Stays in here, aight?” he said, more than asked.

He then lifted up his shirt showing us a gun. It’s not like we were the snitching type anyway, but we nodded our heads at the sight of his gun. He then led us in the doors of the smokey apartment. There were 3 or 4 dudes sleeping on the sofa with a few girls doing lines of coke. Everyone looked dead, even the girls who were awake. I swallowed hard and followed Danny-Dan.

He led us to a room where a few dudes were walking out, zipping their pants. I looked around at my boys who all looked taken back by what was going on. We walked into the dark room where some guy was on top of a girl in the bed. We watched for a few minutes until the guy finished and pulled up his pants. When he turned around, I saw that it was Snoopy, the guy we had fought months ago. He smiled an ugly smile when he saw us and rolled off the bed.

Danny-Dan walked towards the girl who was laying motionless on the bed. She turned towards him and it was then I noticed who it was. I was shocked. It was Cassidy, the girl I had been crushing on for months.

“Only a few more and you’ll be done babygirl. Just be good for daddy, ok?” he said.

She looked at us, saw me, and I saw her cringe. She looked back at Danny-Dan, her man, her pimp, and shook her head.

“I love you Cas” he said.

“I love you too” she responded, timidly.

“Aight, lil nigga. Come on” Danny-Dan said looking directly at me.

I realized I was first in line, I would have to produce first even though I was reconsidering even being there. But with my boys pushing me on and Danny-Dan looking at me with impatience, I knew I couldn’t turn back. I stepped closer to the bed and looked down at Cassidy who was naked with her legs slightly open, waiting for me. I tried to give her a weak smile but she didn’t return it, she just stared with sad eyes.

“Come on, we don’t have all night” Danny-Dan insisted.

“Yeah Jazzy. Hurry up” Dehaven said from behind.

I unzipped my pants and let them drop to my ankles, getting in the bed with my shoes and socks on. She scooted down some and waited for me to make a move. I didn’t know what to do, I had no idea what I was suppose to be doing. Danny-Dan went over to a boombox by the window and cut it on, Stevie Wonder’s All In Love is Fair blasted from the radio.

“I forgot, yall young cats need some slow music to f*ck” Danny-Dan laughed to himself.

I got on top of Cas and looked off to the side, my penis still not hard or aroused. I couldn’t get aroused by something like this, having my first time be watched by people.

“Get the man hard” I heard Danny-Dan say.

Cass reached down and started rubbing my limp penis which fell in her hand like linguine.  She stroked it as I looked off to the side, looking at the shoe tracks that led to the bed. There were so many, that counting was impossible because they overlapped. I wondered how many people had come to this bed on this snowy night. I managed to look Cassidy in her eyes. She looked ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, and withdrawn. I remembered how I had said I hated her and my penis somehow became hard.

I can’t further explain why I was able to go through with it. But I lost my virginity to her while my boys, and Danny-Dan cheered me on. I didn’t orgasm, I instead faked like I was done after a few minutes and quickly pulled my pants up. A weird feeling of hate and anger fueled my body once I saw Big Ren coming to the bed as I left. I didn’t know who I was angry at or why. But I knew I didn’t want to go home that night, not to my mother and definitely not my sisters. I didn’t want to be around any females.

I instead spent the night at B-High’s house. I looked at the ceiling for hours and wondered if this was what sex was suppose to feel like. To this day, I cannot listen to Stevie Wonder’s All in love is fair without feeling a certain way.

Spring 1982

Our dreams of becoming hustlers, selling drugs and coming up were put on hold when Dehaven got busted for trying to rob a corner store with a pocket knife. Since he was just a juvenile and it was his first offense they decided 6 months in a bootcamp would set him straight. Without D, there wasn’t as much urgency for us to get into trouble or pursue his dream of becoming a gangster. Manny stopped coming around altogether and eventually we heard that he visited his sick mother in Florida.

We learned alot about Manny from Eric who said he was a no good spic. He said how Manny was sent to New York because he couldn’t get along with any of his family back in Florida, always getting into it with his brothers and uncles. He was a sort of outcast and was sent to live with his godfather in NY. His uncle, Spanish Jose, was only his uncle by marriage and he really had no close ties to him beyond that.

Even though most cats thought they were a spanish family, Jose was actually Colombian and his wife, Manny’s side of the family was Purto Rican. Manny himself was a mix of Rican and Colombian, the son of a cocaine pusher who was killed only a year after he was born. I had trouble reading Manny. I wondered why so many people kept their distance from him especially knowing he had a well respected pedigree. I wondered why he had trouble getting a crew and getting his in-law Uncle to supply him with drugs. Their entire family moved drugs from the Islands and into the States, so why wasn’t he more involved with the family business?

I didn’t get a chance to learn more about him because he left NY soon after Dehaven went away. The crew didn’t hang out as much with them gone, which left me more time for myself. I started writing songs here and there at the kitchen table after my homework was done. With so much time and the apartment to myself with my mom and siblings gone for long periods of time, I started reading and listening to music everyday.

I would go in Rick’s stash of records and tapes that he would leave in my moms closet and sample a bit of all of the music. I discovered the Beatles and immediately fell in love with it. I liked the down to earth melodies and vocals, especially from the Let It Be record. I would smoke weed, read comics or history books, and listen to music until my sister came home from school. I enjoyed reading and learning about history, especially dictators like Hitler and Napoleon. For some reason I identified with their lust for power. I also found myself identifying with spiritual figures like Ghandi. I would be reading about his thoughts on peace and non-violent protests while hearing gunshots outside of my window.

My grades improved tremendously, not really because I got any smarter, but I applied myself more. I even got straight A’s one semester, something my mother and sisters were extremely proud of. My mom put my report card on the refrigerator and told me I was capable of great things if I only would put my mind to it.

I thought about alot during this time. I would be going into high school soon and still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I looked at my mom working 2 jobs and my sisters working minimum wage jobs. I looked at my brother Eric who was hustling but still not making much money. I looked at Rick, and he was who I identified with the most. He got to DJ the best parties and even met alot of the rappers around the area, but he still only was able to DJ on the side. I heard he worked at a gas station to earn most of his income.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do or how I would get out of Marcy. I just knew I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in that cycle of poverty. I wanted out.

Annie started changing around this time. She grew breast and an ass and I noticed she would be on the phone with guys late in the night. She had always been a homebody, studying in her spare time and going to work with Mickey after she came home from school. Hell, Annie played with dolls until she was 15. I didn’t like her growing up and getting involved with the characters that roamed outside of our front door. I felt as if I had to protect her from them niggas.

It hit the fan when one day I came home from school and saw Danny-Dan and her talking outside on a bench. I waited by the lobby until she came in, smiling from ear to ear. I had to set her straight.

“Why are you talking to that nigga?”

“Shawn. I can talk to who I please”.

“Not that nigga, Annie. Come on, don’t you know he is up to no good?”

“We are just talking, Shawn. He is a nice guy”.

“I forbid you from seeing him, Annie. I am not playing”.

“Mom said I am old enough to date. And there is nothing you can do to stop that. I love you little brother, but I want to have a life just like you. Can I live?”

“Why can’t you talk to some guy from your school? He is too old for you”

She chuckled “Shawn, he is only 21. Big deal, only 4 years”.

“He sells drugs Annie”

“Who doesn’t around here? He is a good guy. I hear you and your friends talk good about him all the time.”

“I’m telling Eric.”

“Eric knows. I went through the same runaround with him. Mom and Eric knows. We are just talking, he is coming for dinner Friday. Nothing serious Shawn.”

She walked past me and up the stairs. I was furious, how could she talk to Danny-Dan of all people? He was a drug dealer and a pimp, a scumbag. The scumbag that I looked up to ironically. But I couldn’t have her messing with a guy like him. And why hadn’t Eric stopped her from seeing him? Eric knew what kind of dude Danny-Dan was, how could he let his youngest sister be manipulated by him? I had to do something, something to stop this from going down.

I went to Ty Ty’s house where we had stashed the gun Manny had found and got it from him.

“What are you going to do with it?” Ty asked.

“I don’t know yet” I fearfully and truthfully stated.

I didn’t know, but I knew I had to protect my sister from him. I tucked the gun in my pants and walked over to his apartment building, taking a deep breath and knocking quickly. I couldn’t hear anything inside and wondered if maybe he wasn’t home. After a few seconds of silence I knocked again and moments later the door opened.

Cassidy was standing there, her stomach fat and her once permed hair looking a mess. I couldn’t believe how much she had changed in just a few months, she was obviously pregnant. But by who? Danny-Dan? Or one of the countless dudes she was made to have sex with that night back in January? Hell, could it have been my child? I doubt that she would ever know the answer to that question.

“What you want?” she asked, sleep in her eyes.

“I need to speak with Danny-Dan”.

She looked at me sadly, I wondered what was going through her head. Did she hate me? I felt sorry for her, I didn’t hate her anymore and seeing her like this made me hate myself.

“Hold on” she said, closing the door.

I waited and adjusted my pants, making sure my gun could be easily drawn. I had no idea what I was going to say so I begin practicing lines in my head. I was scared, Danny-Dan was a known killer. He could kill me for attempting to step to him. But the alternative option, leave without saying anything, was out of the question. My sister was the priority here. If Eric wouldn’t protect her, I would.

Cassidy opened the door, “come in” she said stepping aside and allowing entrance into the apartment where I had lost my virginity.

I walked in and saw Dan sitting on the couch with two girls, one on each of his arms. He was smoking a black and mild, and staring at me intensely. The entire scene scared me, because I knew he was packing and his girls probably were too. Cassidy closed the door and walked into the hallway and into a bedroom, closing the door behind her.

The girls on the couch seemed to be young teens, maybe 14 or 15, which seemed to be Danny-Dan’s preference. They were attractive, big breast, and eying me like I was an intruder. I had heard stories about Danny-Dan’s girls killing folks who messed with his business, so I knew I had as much to fear from them as I did from him.

“Wassup young blood?” he spoke, ending the stand off.

I cleared my throat and swallowed.

“Danny-Dan, I respect you and what you do. I got nothing but respect for your hustle-” I paused to see his reaction. He remained indifferent, smoking his black.

“The girl you were talking to earlier, Annie. That is my sister, my youngest sister. And I won’t let you pimp her out. I’d appreciate if you stop talking to her.”

“Every girl is somebodies sister. It didn’t stop you from running up in here for Cas” he replied.

I didn’t know how to respond. He took another puff of his black and laughed the smoke out.

“Look Dan. That’s my blood….my blood. And I put it on my blood, that I won’t let you or anyone else f*ck with her” I managed to say. I was scared but meant every damn word of it.

He didn’t say anything or show any real emotion, just stared and smoked. His girls looked at him and then at me, with contempt in their eyes. I knew they would f*ck me if he told them to or kill me if he told them too. They were loyal to his every command. It seemed they were waiting for him to give a command.

‘Ok young blood” he said bluntly, “No problem”.

The girl on his right stood up and walked towards me. I put my hand near my waist just in case this was about to get ugly. But it didn’t, she simply opened the door and allowed me to walk. I left confused, not knowing what it meant or if I had caused a bad situation to get worse. The next day from school, the day Danny-Dan was suppose to come over for dinner Annie came home from school crying. My joints tensed up, what had he done to her?

“Girl, what are you crying for?” my mother asked.

Annie hugged her, snotty nose and red eyes, “Dan dumped me. Said he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” she cried.

I watched from my bedroom door as Annie cried on my moms shoulder, expressing her disdain for Dan, who seemed to be her first love. I smiled to myself watching her cry. I gained a new respect for Danny-Dan that day.

September 1982

Dehaven returned from bootcamp and ready for the start of school. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the short skinny kid that he was 6 months prior. He had a significant growth spurt, had cut his short afro, and now had muscles. He was like a new person, but still with that same thirst for power and destruction.

“My nigga” he said, greeting me in the projects. I had to admit, I was glad to have my nigga back.

“Damn man you got big” I said.

“We worked out alot down there. I will knock a nigga out now” he laughed.

“Look at you though D. Bald head, you tall as me now”.

“Yeah, and I’m ready to get back up with Manny. For real this time though”.

“What you mean?”

“I learned so much down there. It was a bunch of hustlers in my cabin. They taught me all about the drug game, especially selling cocaine.”

He was serious, but I laughed.

“D what the hell? They was suppose to rehabilitate your ass. Not give you game”.

He laughed.

“Well, I guess bootcamp was good for something. I’m done with that petty theft shift. Time to step it up, dawg. Are you in?”.

I looked at the enthusiasm in my best friends voice and it inspired and rejuvenated me. It had been a bit boring without him.

“Hell yeah I’m in” I said, giving him a pound and a hug.

“Welcome home bruh” I said.

“Thanks man.”

As if things were ordained by a higher power, Manny returned not even a month later and came back around to hang out with us. We were all getting growth spurts as I grew an inch, as did B-High. Big Ren gained 25 more pounds and looked even meaner then before. Shaw begin working out at the gym and building muscle. We were alot more intimidating then we were at this same time the year before. We felt it was really time to become big time and secure our spot as a legitimate crew in our projects.

But first, Manny had to convince Spanish Jose to give us a package to sell. Manny apparently had done well in Florida helping out his family, even getting along with his brothers and uncles. I figured this had to mean Jose would be more inclined to let him in the game. Especially with a crew backing him. We had to get work and Manny would be our connect into that world.

December 17, 1982

Manny convinced his uncle Jose to at least hear him out. Jose asked for one of us to meet with him so he could speak face to face. Dehaven and Big Ren were the most intimidating, but after half a year of boot camp, Dehaven was the most muscular and he didn’t look 13 anymore. He also had learned some about selling drugs from his corrections peers, so we figured he would be the best representative to send. We all took a train to go see Spanish Jose in Staten Island, but only Manny and D actually went up to go talk to him. The rest of us waited outside.

After anxiously waiting for an hour, Manny and D returned with smiles on their faces. We knew we were in, the only question was when.

“Jose said he will be getting a new shipment at the beginning of the year. He will give us a small package to sell to see what we can do” Dehaven grinned.

“Yeah. Jose seemed impressed by D. I think we should be good” Manny added.

Unlike alot of the drug dealers around New York, who were broke as sh*t, we had a direct line to a connect in Jose. We figured this meant we would make alot of money as one crew. Not too bad for 14 year olds. A month later we received our first package of coke, Jose wasn’t into selling weed or even heroine anymore.

The big money was in cocaine and it was what he wanted to test us with. He didn’t need crews nicking and diming weed bags, he needed to train up young hustlers. Dehaven and Manny taught us the basics, how to sort the powder, how much to bag, and tested us on counting money to make sure we got it right.

A gram would run a customer $50 and half a gram would be $25. This was all difficult for for Big Ren especially when we was tested with numbers like “2 and a half grams”. He flunked our pre-test and was demoted to solider, he would not handle money at all, just make sure no one f*cked with us on the corner.

We were only given an 10th of a Ki (Kilogram of cocaine) and were told to sell it quickly so we could reup. It was all new and interesting to me, but also scary. I knew if my mom found out what I was doing, there would be hell to pay. I remember how she kicked Eric out when she found drugs in his room, but I also remember how she let him back in a week later. She didn’t want him sleeping over random drug dealers houses every other day. But I wondered how she would react if her youngest was doing the same thing.

Spanish Jose only used pure cocaine, not the sh*t the other dealers used that was mixed with other sh*t and wasn’t a good high. Manny showed us how to tell pure coke from the knockoff sh*t and we learned the taste of it. We even snorted some of it so get a feel for the high. The first time I snorted coke, I felt like I was going to die. I started tripping, telling them to stop me from flying and eventually i threw up.

I don’t think I ever got use to the high of coke, which was very different from the high of weed, but we would snort a few lines when we were nervous. It was like tradition for camaraderie. After we practiced selling, we scoped the corners of the projects and decided on one that had alot of fiend activity but wasn’t occupied by any dealers. For our first time, we didn’t want to infringe on anyones territory. We had a gun, and we had muscle, but we were still virgins to how this sh*t went down.

I set up on the corner with B-High and Big Ren while Dehaven, Shaw, and Manny set up on a different corner. I didn’t know what we were suppose to do while we waited, so I just started reciting raps in my head. It was the only thing that kept me calm, thinking about and rapping my favorite hip hop songs. After only 10 minutes or so standing on the corner, a white man begin walking towards our direction. He was skinny, with a tie-die shirt and ripped jeans. I had seen him around before, and I knew he was a cokehead. Still, my arms remained at my sides as he approached as I stood frozen with fear.

There would be no turning back once I sold the drugs to him, I would be a drug dealer, the thing my mother detested the most. It was then, I saw my mother across the street staring at me. I backed up towards the wall and looked harder. It wasn’t my mom, it was a ghost of my mom, watching me as I became someone she hated. The ghost stared at me and shook it’s head. I wanted to talk to the ghost and tell it I was sorry, that I was only doing what I had to do. But I couldn’t respond to the ghostly figure of my mother, it was too far away and not of this world. Not of the reality I was facing.

“Yall Boys holding?” the white man said, stopping and eying each of us.

“What you want?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Half”.

“25″ I said, looking around.

“Better be good, damn” he said, giving me a pound, sliding me a a few bills as I passed him the drugs.

And just like that, I had made my first drug deal. He walked down the block and around the corner and I think we all breathed a sigh of relief. It was pretty easy, we had made 25 bucks in 25 seconds, but it was a mind trip more than it was physical labor. The waiting and holding your breath when you slide the buyer the drugs, knowing it could potentially be a trap. B-High and I took turns selling, while Big Ren checked for police and made sure no one tried to screw us.

In less than a week, we had sold the entire 10th of cocaine and Dehaven and Manny turned the $2,500 into Jose. Because we were rookies and minors, Jose said that the commission  was more risky and thus he took a higher percentage from our earnings. Of that $2,500,  half of it went straight to Jose, leaving us to split $1250 six ways. He taxed worst than Uncle Sam himself, but he said as time went on we would get more to sell and he would drop his 50% tax and thus we get a larger percentage of the cut. He did say he was impressed with how quickly we sold it, and in only a few days of work I made 200 bucks.

I had never made money a day in my life so it felt good to have $200 to my name. I felt like a million bucks, like I was a millionaire. I bought a Michael Jackson record, some sneakers, and some Phillies and put the rest in my Moms emergency cookie jar. Since Eric and Mickey often put money in there I knew she wouldn’t question where the extra funds came from, and wouldn’t expect it came from me.

Jose gave us an 8th of a Ki the next go around, but still kept his 50% cut. Dehaven hated the fact that we were being ripped off, but Manny explained that it would get better with time. It was either wait it out or downsize the size of our clique. But with us going to school in the day and selling in the evening, all 6 of us were needed to move the coke.

In just over a week and a half we sold the entire thing, making over 3 stacks in the process. They money came quick, alot quicker than we could have ever figured and we only had to sell to the same clientele. In a month, I had made almost 1,000 bucks. With my next cut, I bought a small pistol from Big O and bought a chain and a few outfits. This would complete me, complete the transition from boy to man. At 14, I was a hustler.

April 1, 1983

It was good Friday, the holiday that gave us the day off from school. It was also April Fools day, ironically. We could have been out finishing off the rest of our package but we had decided to hit up a family diner for brunch. It felt good having money, being able to go to a restaurant and order whatever we wanted from the menu. The waitress, a blond shorty with puffy cheeks but some big titties came up to us. She looked each of us over, 5 young black niggas with gold chains and 1 Hispanic kid. She had to know what we were about.

“May I have your order?” she hissed, rolling her eyes.

Big Ren peeped her sarcasm and reacted to it.

“Yes you can b*tch”.

We all laughed at her when her eyes grew wide.

“What did you call me?”

“I didn’t stutter. B*tch”.

“Yo chill, Ren, Chill. I’m hungry as hell” Dehaven laughed.

“Yeah nigga, they gon spit in our food our some shit” I echoed.

“Sorry for my friends language miss…Becky” he said checking her name tag. ” We’ll make sure you get a big tip for his strong language” Shaw stepped in seductively with his bright smile.

She looked at Ren and then at Shaw and nodded her head, taking a deep breath.

Dehaven ordered waffles, country fried steak, and scrambled eggs, Shaw ordered a chicken sandwhich, B-High got a burger and fries, I got meatloaf and hashbrowns, and Big Ren got french toast and potato salad. Don’t ask me why we ordered such diverse food in early afternoon, but we did and then dropped a $25 tip. Shaw even got her number before we left. The young black drug dealers could definitely corrupt the white girls of America.

We took the train back to the projects and straight to Ty’s crib to watch TV.

“Yall ain’t bring me nothing?” he asked when we showed up.

“Nope” Dehaven laughed.

“And now yall wanna watch my TV?” Ty beamed.

We all laughed. Ty was getting older and bigger and was starting to speak his mind more, but he was still fearful of Dehaven.

“Nah I brought you some fries and a burger” I said, handing him the box.

We sat around the tube and talked shit mostly, happy to have a few dollars to our name. Somehow, the topic of God came up.

“Yo, I was thinking though. Do you thinking slanging dope means we will go to hell?” B-High asked.

“All I know is I am stopping after I get a mill or 2. I’ll give money to the church and get baptized so the pastor can wash my sins away” Big Ren said.

Shaw laughed “Nigga you know how long it will take to make a million from this at our rate? Jose is the real money maker”.

We all looked at Manny.

“My uncle already has a few million. Most of it is saved up though.”.

“Nah but for real though. I don’t think God will let a drug dealer in heaven” B-High said. It was obvious he was high.

Dehaven turned his nose.

“B, I don’t think God can be mad at a damn thing. Look at what he has put us through. We was slaves and shit. Then when we do get free, he put us in this hell hole. Now we poor and shit. Living around pimps, and hoes, and drug dealers, and killers. How else he expect a nigga to live when he put us here? Huh? My grandma always said Jesus knows our heart. And if we mean well, then we’ll be aight”

“I don’t believe Jesus was a savior or anything. He was just a prophet” Manny said.

“Nigga what?” Dehaven asked.

“I’m Jewish D. We don’t believe Jesus was God”?

Dehaven stared at Manny curiously and then laughed. “F*ck outta here, B”.

They all started cracking up while Manny shrugged. Ty smiled while stuffing fries in his face and then looked over at me, the only one not laughing.

“Yo Jazzy, what do think, B? You think drug dealers go to heaven?”

I paused before I thought to share my thoughts. Something about a few books I read had made me feel weary of this topic and especially sharing my thoughts with people.

“I don’t believe it any of it”.

“Any of what?” Dehaven asked.

“Any of it man. God, religion, the bible, Jesus. I don’t believe none of it”.

“You are tripping Jazzy” Big Ren said, condemning me for my apparent agnostic approach to the topic.

“Yeah man, what the f*ck?” B-High asked.

“Put it like this. God is suppose to hear our prayers and shit right? We live in this shithole. Have you ever got any of the things you have prayed for? Ever? Nigga for real. Ever?” I asked, speaking more harsh than I intended.

Nobody answered my question, we simply stared at each other, even Ty Ty had stopped eating.

It was so silent, we could have heard a gunshot from Queens.

June 7, 1983

I had let Manny talk me into going to Staten Island for his cousin’s Bar Mitzvah which was going to double as a family BBQ. It was a Jewish tradition where 13 year old boys become young men in the eyes of their community. It sounded like a pointless tradition to me.  I become a man when I was forced to but I didn’t get a family get together for that. I dont think Manny saw the point in it either which is why he had invited us to go. Dehaven turned it down quickly, not wanting to be around a bunch of Jews. Big Ren followed whatever D would say, and Shaw was chilling with his girl.

I was the only one that agreed to go although I really had secret motives. I had wanted to see Spanish Jose for myself. He was such a mysterious and respected figure, that I hated only Dehaven out of our clique had seen him face to face. I figured he would be there and I would get a chance to see him. I worked for the guy, should I not have a chance to meet my employer?

We took the train and walked to down a block of similar looking homes. Eventually we reached one that had dozens of cars parked in the driveway and on the street. Whoever his cousin was sure had alot of f*cking family.

“Aight Jazzy. Be cool, ok?” Manny said, sounding nervous.

“I’m cool”.

He knocked on the door but heard his name being called from the side of the house where there was a fence. Seems everything was happening in the backyard where loud music was playing.

“Manny, you are late. I can’t believe you missed your cousins Bar Mitzvah” the male voice said.

“I apologize father Maurice. My trip across New York too longer than I thought it would” he said to the man.

We walked over to the fence and a priest looking man met us, hugging Manny.

“It’s ok Manny. I am just glad you made it”.

“Father Maurice, this is my friend. Shawn. Shawn Carter”.

The man looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

“Nice to meet you…father Maurice” I said, extending my hand.

We shook hands and he led us into the backyard, where a good 40-50 people were socializing.

“HEEEY, Manny my boy” a man said as soon as he saw us.

“Manny, you are so handsome, and who is your friend” an older lady followed.

It seems dozens of aunts, and uncles, and cousins came up to us and greeted Manny, who eventually made his way over to give his cousin his birthday gift. I was hot as hell, so I was happy when one of the older ladies offered me a drink.

I was surprised when the drink she offered was wine, it seemed everyone there was drinking wine, even the kids. And it was alot of f*cking kids out there. Not long after I was introduced to a nice portion of his family, a big, tall, man appeared.

“Manny, what the hellz wrong with you? Huh?”

“I’m sorry uncle Ramone”.

“How the hell could you miss your cousins ceremony? What were you thinking, son?”

Manny shrugged his shoulders as the intimating man chided him.

“Give him a break, Ramone” a short and stubby man said, patting Ramone on the back.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the boy. He just keep’s f*cking up” Ramone told the man.

Eventually, they left and went to get a drink. I looked over at Manny who was shaking his head at me. I guess this meant he dealt with this all the time. I checked around the rather large backyard, looking for someone that could be Spanish Jose. There was one man with a gold chain on, and then there was a man with a nice suit. But what the hell did I know? His whole family was made of drug dealers, they could all be Spanish Jose. I decided to not beat around the bush, and just ask. I leaned in and whispered to him.

“Yo Manny, which one of these cats is Spanish Jose?”.

Manny took a sip of soda and pointed, “right there”.

I couldn’t believe it. Spanish Jose, the man made of legends. The one everyone in Marcy respected without have never seeing him. The man I worked for was the short and stubby man that had patted Ramone on the back when we first came into the backyard.

“That’s Spanish Jose” I asked.

“Yeah, but don’t bother him Jazzy. This is family time for us and we value family” Manny said, seriously.

Manny’s family made me a plate to eat, ribs, corn on the cob, and pasta. when I sat down at a picnic table and begin eating, I saw what could have been the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my 14 years on earth. She was a deep, bright gold, colored girl, long hair, full lips, incredible body. She was sipping wine with a group of girls that all stood in the background as I looked. I couldn’t quite tell what her ethnicity was, Rican, Colombian, it didn’t matter. She was fine.

“That’s my cousin you are looking at, man” Manny said, interrupting my gaze.

“I’m sorry bruh but damn man. That girl is bad” I whispered.

“You want to meet her?” Manny grinned.

I didn’t say anything. I wanted to meet her of course, wanted to f*ck her if we were to get down to business. But I was still weary of talking to girls out of the blue. Manny took my indecision for a yes, apparently, because he waved her over.

“Hey Manny” she said in her spanish New York accent. I was hooked.

“Hey cousin. I just wanted to introduce you to my friend” Manny smiled.

She looked at me, directly in my eyes. Her eyes were deadly, piercing while still maintaining femininity. When she saw me, she smiled sensually.

“Vida, this is one of my good friends, Jazzy. Jazzy, this is my cousin Vida.

“Hi, I’m Jazzy” I said, not realizing I was only repeating what Manny had just said. I was such a screw up.

Surprisingly, she giggled. “Nice to meet you Jazzy” she smiled, extending her petite and bright hand.

“I’m Vida. And yes, Big head is my cousin” she said, pushing Manny on the side of his head.

“Oh so now I have a big head?”

“Awww Manny. You have always had a big head. But now that you are making some money, your head is really big. How you gonna miss my brothers ceremony?”

“It’s Jazzy’s fault.”

“How is it my fault” I asked.

“You had to finish up on your package” Manny said, winking at me.

What the hell was he talking about? I didn’t work at all today.

“You hustle with Manny? Vida asked, looking hard at me.

I didn’t know what to say, but I took Manny’s wink as a sign that I should play along with whatever he said.

“Uh. Yeah. “

She looked at Manny and then at me, then grinned.

“You are so young looking, I didn’t really see you as a drug dealer” she said.

“Vida you are so predictable” Manny laughed.

“What? How?”

He just laughed and picked up his food, walking away. I didn’t get his comment or why he left me with Vida alone, but when she came and sat next to me I no longer cared. The hell with Manny.

“What did he mean when he said you are predictable?” I asked.

“He thinks I love drug dealers”.

“Well, do you?”

“I think the life is interesting.”

“But isn’t your entire family, in that life?”

“Yeah, but i’m a girl. They keep me and my sisters away from it at all cost”.

“I see. Well it’s not all that interesting”.

“I bet there is alot of interesting things about you Jazzy.”

“Like what?”

“Well first, your name. How the hell did you get it?”

I smiled, so I could stall. Should I tell her how I really got it? Or make something up? I didn’t want to sound like a lame, telling her about Jasmine. I was a hustler now, I had to be more dangerous and on the edge.

“Around my neighboorhood, I rap at block parties. I got the name Jazzy because i’m such a soulful rapper” I lied.

Her eyes lit up when I told her that. Seems she was also a fan of hip hop.

“Wow, really? SEE! I told you. You are already more interesting than anything at this party” she laughed.

Her smile and laugh was infectious. Everytime she smiled, a smile from me followed. I hated the way I looked when I laughed so I always put my hand over my face, but she wasn’t having it.

“Why do you put your hand over your face when you laugh?” she asked.

“I don’t know”.

“Well stop. Let me see that smile”.

I tried to fight her. God knows I tried to resist her, but I smiled and laughed and smiled. She had me open, she was just too gorgeous and personable. And like that, we spend the rest of the day talking and joking with each other. She seemed to genuinely enjoy my company and she appreciated my thoughts on subjects, and I definitely appreciated hers.

“How old are you Jazzy?” she asked.

“14″.

“My Gawd. Boy, you are going to send me to jail! If anyone here asks, you are 18, ok?”

I chuckled, “Why, how old are you?”

“18″.

“18?”

“Yes. I’m old enough to be your grandmother” she joked.

“If my grandmother looked as good as you…”

She laughed hard.

“Ugh. You are a nasty little something”.

“Hey, i’m not the one that is older than dirt”.

“I got you, Jazzy. I see how you play”.

Me and her hit it off extremely well, maybe even too well. I had never really developed such a cat and mouse friendship with a girl, and to do it so quickly over a span of hours was new to me. But I felt good, she made me feel good. I felt confident and witty and even worthy of being around a girl of her caliber.

Our alone time was interrupted when a deeply bright man came over to where we were. When she turned around and met him with a kiss, I could tell it was her father.

“Who have you been talking to the past few hours?” the drunken man managed to slur out.

“He is one of Manny’s friends”.

“Manny? Friends?” the drunken man said, looking at me.

He looked hard, up and down, studying and dissecting me.

“You a drug dealer, son?” he asked.

I looked at Vida out of the side of my eye who was nodding her head no. I was ready to lie to the man when Spanish Jose came up right behind him.

“What’s wrong with being a drug dealer” he laughed.

Vida’s dad turned around to meet Jose.

“We are drug dealers, Jose. But him? He could just be a hoodlum. I don’t want my daughter around hoodlums” the man said.

Jose looked at me and grinned.

“Are you a hoodlum, Jazzy?”

How did he know my name?

“You are one of Dehaven’s boys, eh?” he asked, seemingly reading my mind.

“Yes sir”

“You boys did a good job with that 8th”

“They are selling 8ths” Vidas dad asked.

“Yes. And they did a damn good job” Jose grinned.

“How old are you?” Vida’s dad asked.

“18″ I lied.

“He’s lying” Jose laughed, “He’s 14 or 15″.

“Vida, why are you talking to this boy?” her father asked.

She remained silent.

“Don’t disrespect my employee. He isn’t a boy. He is a man”, Jose said.

“Let him touch my daughter-”

Jose started chuckling and then stopped the drunken man.

“Don’t let him scare you Jazzy. You are more than free to talk to my niece, Vida. Matter fact, I would like you to stop by my place one day. To discuss business. I mean, I bet you aren’t liking that 50% cut I am getting”.

I laughed. I surely wasn’t liking that big cut he was getting.

“Enjoy the rest of the party, ok boss?” Jose said before grabbing Vida’s father by the back and leading him away.

They walked away, right to some liquor, and started drinking. The sun was starting to set, which meant the children would go inside and the hard liquor would come out. I knew all too well how parties like this worked.

“I can’t believe Uncle Jose likes you” she said.

“How can you tell?”

“You’re still living, right?”

I laughed but didn’t know if it was a joke or not. The hell did she mean by that? She grinned evilly.

“My dad likes you too”.

“It didn’t seem like he did”.

“Trust me. If he didn’t like you, you would have been thrown out of the party the minute you got here. He just likes to mess with the guys that try to talk to me”.

“They don’t like drug dealers do they?”

“They don’t want me to date one. They are head-bent that I marry a doctor or lawyer or something”.

“What do you want?”

“To marry a man I love. Whatever his occupation is. My mom married a drug dealer, so why can’t I?”

Manny came over, looking half drunk, and half concerned about the conversation with her father that had taken place.

“You ok man?” he asked.

“Yeah, kinda f*cked up how you just left me by myself though”.

“Jazzy I am sorry. I just wanted to give you and Vid-”

“I’m just joking man. I had a good time with Vida”.

“I had a great time with you, Jazzy” she smiled to me.

I had to be getting back to Marcy but before I left, Vida gave me a kiss on the cheek and her phone number. She told me to call her so we could hang out some time. It was the first time I had ever scorn a date with a woman.

Manny was going to stay and party with his family but he walked me to the gate.

“You like Vida, man?”

“Yea. I think I do. But could you keep that quiet? Don’t tell the other guys about today or that I met Jose” I responded.

“No problem. But Jazzy. Be careful with Vida, ok?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just be careful with her. She’s not as innocent as she seems”.

He looked serious. I didn’t get why he was so serious, but the way he told me to be careful stayed with me the entire ride back to Brooklyn.

Summer 1983

Vida became one of my best friends, reminiscent of Jasmine. I spent all of my free time with her, which wasn’t  much because I was hustling. We held down two corners and had shifts where the 5 of us would alternate. I mention 5 because Manny didn’t stand the corners, he would just bring us the coke. It was a good deal for him, he didn’t have to actually sell anything but he got a cut. But it was his uncle and he did have to bring it to us across town, so that was the work he put in. So at any given time, only one of us was off from work. Whenever I wasn’t on shift, I was with Vida.

My boys thought I had a girlfriend but I wouldn’t tell them anything about her. I didn’t want them to know it was Spanish Jose’s niece that I was hanging with, and I definitely didn’t want them to know what she looked like. They wouldn’t believe me if i told them a girl like Vida was chilling with me. She looked like a model. They thought I was whipped but I didn’t care. I loved being around her.

I had always wanted to be a hustler, but once I got use to it, i didn’t like it much. It was boring, took alot of time, all day really, and most of our money went to Jose. Standing on a corner all day in a hot sun for just a few hundred dollars seemed worst than working minimum wage at McDonalds. What money I did make I would spend on Vida, taking her out or buying her things.

She eventually had enough of it. She hated when I spent money on her.

“Jazzy, stop spending money on me. My family has money. I have money. You shouldn’t do that” she said.

“So you don’t want your bracelet?” I asked, holding it in my hand.

Her frowned slowly turned into a smile as she looked into my puppy dog eyes.

“Jazzy, it’s really beautiful. Thank you”.

I smiled. “Ok Vida. I won’t buy you anything anymore”.

She understood that I needed the money more than she did. I don’t think she liked the fact that her uncle would make half of what we sold, it was as if he was pimping us. We put in all the work and he collected half of the profits. When we did get paid, which didn’t come until we were done selling our package, it would be gone in just a few days after we bought food and gave some to our folks.

She started inviting me over to her house where she would make me food. She was a great cook, especially when it came to spicy foods. Everyday, I would come over to her house, and she’d fix me something to eat, often baking cupcakes and other sweets. I’d even take some of it with me to work.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Dehaven would ask, seeing me eating a brownie.

“My friend made it for me” I smiled, stuffing my face.

“When Ima get to meet your…friend?”

“Never” I laughed.

I liked having Vida all to myself.

One day when I came over she was listening to some rock, something I had never heard before.

“What’s this?”

“You don’t know who this is? Tell me you are joking?”

I shrugged.

“This is only the greatest musician you have never heard” she laughed condescendingly.

“Well sorry. I only listen to black musicians”

“My God. I can’t believe you thug guys sometimes. You guys need some culture”.

“Well sorry I’m not as smart as you are”.

“It’s not that Jazzy. It’s just. My father always said the blacks sometimes don’t even understand their own culture. It’s kind of sad.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Vida?”

“This is Jemi Hendrix, Jazz. A black guitarist, the greatest ever” she said.

“He’s black?”

“Yes. Black, with an afro too. Here is the album cover” she said showing me the record by the player.

“He looks like a druggie”

“My Gosh. Nevermind”.

“Nah, Vida. Let it play. I like it, what it called?”

“This is called Bold as Love, my favorite song from this album”.

I listened and tried to vibe to it the way she did when she closed her eyes and rocked her sexy body back and forth. I bobbed my head.

“I like it” I said.

“Well I love it. Makes me want to have sex” she said.

Immediately, I felt my penis grow in my pants. Vida and I had gave each other kisses on the cheek and we hugged alot, but we had never went past that. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or go past any boundaries so I never made any moves. But hearing her say the song made her want to f*ck woke me up. Maybe she was waiting for me.

She smiled “Jazz, do I scare you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I’m older than you, i’m a sexual girl and I think you are kind of inexperienced in that area”.

“What do you mean inexperienced?”

“Are you a virgin? Be honest with me”

“No, I’m not”.

“Really?”

“Yes Vida. You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you if you say so”

“Well I say so”.

“Ok papi. It’s cool, no biggie.”

I was upset at her question and apparent accusation. Was I showing my inexperience with women? Technically I wasn’t a virgin, but I had only been with Cassidy that one night. I knew what she was getting at. I still considered myself a virgin. As confident as I thought I was around Vida, apparently she didn’t think I was confident or assertive enough. I went into a shell.

“Jazz, are you ok?”

“Yeah, fine”.

“Did I offend you, that wasn’t my intention?”.

“Nope”.

“You sure?”

“Yep”.

She went over to her purse and pulled out a small bag of weed. I wasn’t in much of a mood to get high, I was angry at her, couldn’t she tell? Did she think when i said I was fine that it really meant I was fine?

“You smoke Purple Haze or that hood sh*t?”

“What?”

“I’m just asking if you smoke good sh*t or that garbage sh*t” from the hood?”

“Why do you insist of talking bad about me and where I come from?” I asked Vida

She seemed to find joy in tearing down my esteem of myself and my hood. Ok, so her family has money and they are cultured and all that. I don’t give a f*ck, that doesn’t mean she can say what she wants about me.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, if I am so beneath you. Why even f*ck with me? Why even mess with me? Huh? Know what, f*ck this, i’m out” .

I’d had enough of her talking down on me like she was better. I grabbed my hat and prepared to leave.

“Shawn wait” she said, walking closer to me.

I eyed her. I was beyond pissed.

“What?”

“I apologize”

“For what?”

“For pushing this out of you”.

“What?”

“Shawn. I really like you. Trust me, I wouldn’t put so much time into getting to know you if I didn’t. But you act so shy and timid sometimes. I wanted to see you angry, aggressive, more assertive. I figured the more I nitpicked you, eventually you’d lash out”.

The hell did this mean?

“Shawn. Jazzy. I really don’t want you to leave. Please, stay”.

“Why should I?”

Vida didn’t even attempt to answer my question with words. She walked to my face and looked me in my eyes. My heart dropped looking into those dangerous, scary, beautiful dark eyes. She kissed me, tenderly at first, until I started to kiss back. I couldn’t remain angry at her when she begin, I grabbed her waist and moved in closer, taking her tongue as our kiss became more sloppy and strong.

Her tongue raced into the back of my mouth, so fast I didn’t even realize I was having my first french kiss until my tongue was deep in hers. Eventually I pushed her on the sofa and we continued kissing and sucking and slobbing as Jimi Hendrix blasted in the background.

I was on fire, being taken into a place I had never been before. I reached to her chest and clutched her cantaloupe size breast. I squeezed them as she kept kissing me, hard, and forceful. My squeeze eventually turned into a pull as I dragged her breast from out of her shirt, her pointy brown nipple staring me in the face. I buried my face into her breast, sucking the nipple like I was starving. And then, she stopped me.

“Jazzy.”

What? Why was she stopping me? I think my facial expression revealed my reaction.

“I’m not ready for us to go there yet. Not yet”.

“Why?”

“Slowdown young one. Let’s just take our time. It’ll happen” she smiled, putting her breast back into her top.

I wanted her, I wanted her badly. I don’t think I ever wanted anything as much as I wanted her at that moment. I wanted her more than I wanted to ride that bike when I was 4. But her smile, her eyes, her voice calmed me. I regained my composure and smiled back at her.

“Vida, I think I love you” I said, not meaning to say it, but saying it none the less.

Her smile faded, and embarrassment filled my heart. What had I done? Did I just ruin the moment? She didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared. She reached for my hand and smiled.

“Shawn, give it some time before you say that to me. Ok?”

I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I ended up rolling up a joint and smoking with her. We kissed some more and then I left. I didn’t care what she said. I was in love.

October 29, 1983

Halloween was just a few days away and Viva had convinced me to get a costume. I never really f*cked with Halloween like that, it was such a pointless holiday to me. Why dress up like a ghoul or zombie when I was brought up around real killers and fiends. Freddy and Jason had nothing on the niggas in my hood. Either way, Vida had me so open that I was down to adhere to any of her wishes. She wanted to guy shopping? Then I’m going shopping.

We went into Manhattan to a few shops and looked at costumes. I tried on a Frankenstein mask but eventually settled for a Hockey Mask and a fake machete.

“That is so lazy, Jazz” Vida laughed.

“What?”

“A hockey mask and that’s it?”

“How about a gold chain with it?” I joked.

“I see you want to be funny, but I got you Papi”.

“We are here for you anyway”

She nodded her head and begin looking at outfits.

“What you think about this?” she asked holding up a princess outfit.

“I thought this is dress up?” I asked.

“It is.”

“How is dressing up like a princess, dressing up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your people already spoils you like a princess” I laughed.

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.

“Know what, you are right. I think I need to be something more…bad”.

After flipping through more costumes on the rack she found something that totally fit her. I laughed hard as hell when I saw it.

“Now THAT is you”.

“You like?” she smiled, holding up a catwoman costume.

It was a black 2 piece costume, a cat mask, stockings and a cat tail in the back. It looked like something a stripper would wear, but certainly nothing someone would fight crime in. She tried it on and I was hooked, she looked incredibly sexy in it. She spun around and held out her hands so I could get a full view.

“You know you are gonna get a nigga in trouble wearing something like that around me…”

“Puuuuurr”.

I barked to return her cat purr and she growled. The white people in the store looked at us as if we were crazy. Vida and I laughed all the way out of the store.

“I dont think they liked our mating ritual” she grinned.

I grabbed and kissed her, while tourist walked by.

“I like it when you handle me like that, Jazz”.

“You are going to have to model that catwoman suit for me when we get home”.

“Nope. I’m not wearing it until the Halloween Party on Monday”.

“Not even for me?” I asked before softly kissing her lips.

She kissed me again on the lips and smiled “Nope, not even for you”.

We kissed each other on the train ride back to Staten Island. I couldn’t wait for when I’d finally be able to have this girl like I wanted. The months of just kissing was killing me.

October 31, 1983

Vida had convinced her father to let her drive his BMW to a Halloween party in Brooklyn. It was a party in the rec center and although it was suppose to be just for teenagers, it seems most of Brooklyn, adult and teen found their way to the center. I had on my Jason outfit and met Vida at a corner store a block from the center. This would be the first time the people from my hood would see me with her and I was nervous.

I was strangely protected over her and didn’t want any of the niggas I knew from BK looking at her. Vida had built up my confidence some, but I was still insecure. I still wasn’t secure in going around other people with her on my arm. But she insisted that we went to the party together, and like always, she got what she wanted.

“Hey papi” she said when I reached the car.

“Damn, this is a nice ride”.

“Get in young one”.

I hoped in and looked around. I had never been in a BMW before and the quality of everything was a bit intimidating. Everything from the seat-belts to the steering wheel looked crisp, right off the lot. Even the smell was intimidating.

“I got you something” I heard Vida say, snapping me out of my infatuation of the car.

I then noticed she had on a jacket that prevented me from seeing her in the cat suit.

“No, not that” she giggled, realizing I was trying to imagine her without the jacket.

“Here. I think this will help you look more like a hustler” she said, handing me a box.

Inside was a ring, not just any ring, but a gold one a dollar sign engraving with diamonds in it. Damn, it was flashy and definitely symbolized a baller. I could not wear this anywhere and not be noticed. This was the type of ring only gangsters wore because it attracted attention.

Just like my brothers chain that I had to fight for when I was just a kid, I would eventually have to fight over this ring. Someone would want to snatch it and I would have to keep it on my hand or lose respect. I wondered if Vida understood the significance of such flashy jewels. The Lord of the Rings was a hood phenomenon, not fantasy.

“You don’t like it?” she asked timidly.

“Nah it ain’t that. Just, I hope you know I could die over some sh*t like this”.

“Oh. Well I can take it ba-”

“Nah. I want it. I’m no b*tch” I said, taking the ring from the box and putting it on my finger.

It was heavy and I knew it was draw attention to me. But since Vida thought I should have it, I would wear it proudly. I now had to protect Vida from lusting niggas and my ring from lusting niggas. It was stressful having nice sh*t around niggas in the hood. The have vs the have nots.

She smiled and turned put the car in reverse. I put the mask over my head, getting ready for the party and everything that would come with it. We got to the parking lot of the Rec and the eyes of everyone outside immediately focused on the BMW pulling up. Oh geeze, so much for a subtle entrance. I knew everyone would be checking to see who we were. Damn, why didn’t we just walk up here?

Vida breathed a nervous laugh.

“Wow, it’s alot of people out here”.

“Well, you said you wanted to see the hood. Here it is”.

“Will you protect me?” she asked.

“Of course”.

And with that said, we exited the car and begin to make our way through the crowded parking lot. I had my fake machete out and mask on, I didn’t want anyone to recognize me. I think Vida liked the attention though, because she didn’t put her mask on. She smiled as the niggas whistled in her direction and made comments. The closer we got to the front door to the rec/basketball court, the louder the music became. The music was blasting inside but apparently only a small percentage of the people at the party would get to experience it.

This was a teenager dance and the bouncer at the door was checking ID, only allowing kids 13-18 to get in. Everyone else, which was alot of people, were forced to hang out outside. Surprisingly, this didn’t seem to bother the outside dwellers as they listened to their boomboxes, smoked, drink, and chatted. I wondered where the real party was going on, inside our outside. Vida was enthralled by the entire atmosphere, I could tell.

“Take off the mask, son” the guy at the door said when we got to the entrance.

I removed my mask and showed him ID, as did Vida.

“Damn, sweety, you sure you only 18?” he asked.

Vida blushed, which angered me. I shot the bouncer a look.

“Aight. No fighting or bullshittin in here. Have a good time” he said, letting us pass.

The party was dark with orange lights flashing and hundreds of dressed people littering the basketball court. This wasn’t really my scene, but I smiled once I saw Vida’s eyes light up. She was such a sheltered and spoiled girl, that I knew it meant alot for her to be out on her own. It made me feel good to know that I was the guy that got to be her escort on this date.

After walking inside and adjusting to the atmosphere of the gym, she removed her jacket and put on her mask. It was over once she did that. She pulled me towards the center of the court and as we walked, every eye, male and female, centered in on her. She stood out even in the sea of monsters, movie characters, and other dressed up teens. She was the star of the party.

Beat Bop by Rammellzee + K-Rob

blasted from the speakers and echoed off the walls, and when Vida started rocking from side to side I realized I was about to be in a world a trouble. I didn’t know how to dance. I couldn’t see her face with the mask on but I saw her seductive smile as she rocked to the beat and stared at me. I didn’t know what do to or how to do it so I simply bounced to the beat. At the countless block parties I had been to, I never actually danced, I always just bounced. It was all I knew.

Vida smiled as she saw my mini-dance and took things a bit further by turning around and grinding her cat tail against my crotch. I moved with her slowly as we rocked to the beat and caught the eyes of the surrounding people.

“I see you catwoman and Jason” the DJ said over the microphone which only caused for even more eyes to look at us.

Vida loved it, I could tell because she only begin grinding even harder. It was too sensual for me and as hard as I tried to hold it back, my erection came forth, poking her in her cat tail. I was afraid that maybe she would get mad, having my dick interrupt the dancing, but she only laughed out loud. After a few pokes she turned back to face me but this time moved very close to my face and kept dancing. She moved her mask and let it rest on the top of her head and then she removed my mask and did the same. We were facing each other, staring hard into each others eyes as we moved to the beat. I swallowed hard, she was looking seductive.

“You excited” she said over the beat.

I nervously smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’m excited too” she grinned.

“Jazzy?!” I heard someone say from behind me once the song started to wind down.

Immediately, I knew who it was. Just my luck, Dehaven was here.

“Yo, who is this?” he asked, making his way over to us.

“This is my friend…” i mumbled.

Her wasn’t paying me any attention, he was looking at the beautiful, sexy, cool woman in a cat suit in front of him. He wasn’t dressed at all, he had always said how dressing up for Halloween was lame. As he looked at Vida, in her 2 piece, stocking costume, I knew he didn’t think what she had on was lame.

“Jazz, who is this?” she asked.

Before I even had a chance to him, D answered for me.

“I’m Dehaven, Jazz is my man” he said.

“Nice to meet you Dehaven, I’m Vida”.

The intro to Thriller by Michael Jackson started playing, which got everyone even more excited.

“Are you the friend Jazz has been ditching us to go see?” Dehaven asked.

She looked at me and saw that annoyance in my face as a wolf howled from the record. She smiled and turned back to him.

“I think that would be me. Unless he got some other friend he ain’t telling me about” she grinned at me.

“Damn, you are fine” Dehaven said, speaking at her instead of to her.

“Well…Thanks” she smiled at him.

She saw that I was on the verge of lashing out. The music had started and now everyone was dancing, she decided to cut the chit chat and do the same.

“Nice meeting you Dehaven”.

She turned back to me and started moving seductively to the MJ classic. I was still annoyed at Dehaven as she started dancing and smiling towards me. I’m sure she caught my feelings.

“Don’t worry, Papi. I was only being nice” she said.

“He wasn’t” I said in her ear.

We moved for a little bit more, well she did, I just bounced. In the middle of the song she whispered in my ear.

“I’m hot, let’s go get something to drink”.

She grabbed my hand and led me back through the crowd, she was still dancing even as she walked across the gym. As we walked, I realize we were going in the wrong direction. The punch was on the other side of the gym. I taped her on her bare shoulder to get her attention.

“Vida, the drinks are over that way”.

“Just follow me young one” she smiled.

I did as I was told and followed her, as she kept dancing and walking. Everyone in the gym watched her. They were as memorized by the catwoman as I was. We eventually went past the wallflowers and to the bleachers. There were a few people sitting in the bleachers watching, which is where I thought she was taking us. She had other plans in mind.

“I thought you wanted a drink?”

“Ok. I lied. But I am hot”.

“It’s 30 degrees outside. How are you hot?”.

She laughed.

“Jazz, you are so cute…and naive”.

I raised my eyebrows. What did she mean?

“Come with me” she gleamed, grabbing my hands and sprinting to the edge of the bleachers. What the hell was this?

As always, I did as I was told despite my apprehension and followed her inside the bottom of the bleachers. It was dark, even darker in the bleachers then it was on the dance floor, but I could still see bits and pieces of the dance floor through the cracks in the stands. I was sure no one could see us though, and this is when I eventually caught an idea of why Vida had dragged me in here.

“You scared?” she said, staring at me with an evil and playful grin.

“Yeah, actually I am” I laughed.

“You big baby”.

“Why you with me if i’m a baby?”.

“Touche, young one”.

“What does two…shay, mean?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it” she grinned.

I pulled her closer to me and kissed her. The song had ended but the crowd was chanting for an encore.

“Do yall wanna here Thriller again?” the DJ asked.

The crowd roared. And like that, the record was playing yet again. I couldn’t blame them for wanting an encore, the record was dope. The radio had played it all the time the past year and the music video on that new TV station MTV was dope. I didn’t have cable but everytime I stayed at Ty Ty’s house, we’d wait for it to come on. It was scary as hell, I had never seen anything like it for a music video. Everyone got their hair like Mike and was wearing clothes like him once they saw that video. I even wanted to grow my hair out. None of that was of the essence though.

We kissed, this time letting our tongues dance to the music. It was a bit scary in the bleachers, surrounding by people, potentially about to be caught, and the howls of the wolf didn’t help either. But it was also strangely erotic. Once again, my erection had returned. I placed my hands on her shoulders, which were bare because of the unique design of her costume.

“You are not a baby, you are a  man. My man” she whispered as she grabbed my crotch and squeezed on my bulge.

I couldn’t have been prepared for what would happen next. She got on her knees, and put on her mask. It had a small space for her mouth which would make what she was about to do even more ‘thrilling’. She forcefully undid my pants and pulled out my d*ck, not wasting any moment before putting it inside of the hole in her mask and the hole of her mouth.

I had never experienced the sensation of a warm, wet, mouth with a swirling tongue on my d*ck, it was so sudden and spontaneous that I almost immediately came. I had to balance myself on the bleachers to stop from busting in her mouth within the first 5 seconds. She held my penis in her right hand while holding up my shirt with her left as she begin sucking, slowly at first. The music was loud and meaningful, as I got the thrill of my young life. I couldn’t believe a beautiful older woman was sucking my d*ck in the middle of a jam packed party in BK, it was too surreal.

By the time the song was ending, she was sucking hard and fast. I knew this couldn’t have been her first time doing this, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered, not even the voice I heard calling from the end of the bleachers. That’s right, someone had caught us, but Vida paid them no mind and continued sucking.

“Hey, what the hell are you kids doing back here?” the man said.

She sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and I nutted a river of semen into her warm mouth. Both of our masks were over or faces, which made the situation seem even more cartoonish. She swallowed every bit of cum and by the time she was done, the man was just feet away from us. We took this as our cue to run.

“Get back here ya nasties” he screamed.

Vida and I dipped on the man and made it out of the other side of the bleaches as he stopped to catch his breath. We burst out laughing seeing his old ass stumbling after us. It was funny, especially coupled with the rush of having just orgasmed in this beautiful womans mouth. I felt like I was on top of the world, and the only emotion I could muster was laughter. Pure, unfiltered, energetic laughter.

I pulled my mask off, “Vida, you are craaaazy” I laughed.

She pulled her off, “I told you I was thirsty” she grinned.

I just gazed at her. What was this woman doing to me? This was too much for my 14 year old mind, body, and soul.

“Jazzy?” I heard a voice from the side of the bleachers.

Oh damn, it was B-High, Big Ren, Shaw, and Dehaven. Now my whole crew was getting a chance to see me with Vida.

“Damn, D. You weren’t lying. Jazzy’s b*tch is a dime” Big Ren said.

Vida looked caught off guard, seeing my friends lusting over her so hard.

“And who are you?” she asked to Ren.

“Oh miss sweet thing I am Rendell. But these hoodlums call me Big Ren. My stomach ain’t the only thing that’s big”.

My boys started laughing, except D. He seemed to be eating Vida with his eyes.

“Jazz, why you been hiding this fine woman, man?” Shaw asked.

“I haven’t hid anything” I responded.

“Sheeeeeit” B-High laughed.

“The hell you suppose to be?” Shaw asked.

“Jason. From those Friday the 13th movies” B-High answered.

“Why yall niggas so concerned about me?” I said.

“You the one that done came up nigga. Be proud” Dehaven said.

“What yall about to get into?” Shaw asked.

“We were actually about to leave” Vida said.

“We’ll walk yall outside” Dehaven said.

Why the hell were we leaving? We had just got here. I didn’t understand anything that Vida was doing this night. But not surprisingly, I followed right along, leaving less than half an hour after getting there. We walked outside, where the parking lot had swelled even more. I’d say 70% of the people there were older than 18, I figured most of the men would try to pick up some young girls when the dance was over. That was how niggas did things around my way. It was rare to see someone like Vida, 4 years older than me, messing with a younger cat. I felt special because of this.

“Damn, this is your ride?” Big Ren asked, once we got to the car.

“And does anyone notice Jazzy is shining? Look at my dawgs ring” Dehaven barked.

Between the men trying to get at Vida and the comments from my boys, I knew I hated the attention of being in the spotlight. I wanted a private life, away from the chatter and riff raff of jealous people. A nigga can’t have anything without someone else making a big deal about it, pointing it out, and gossiping on it. And this even went for his f*cking girfriend.

“Yo, I got shotgun” Ren shouted.

“No” I immediately shot.

“What?”

“No man. It’s just me and my lady rolling. Yall niggas gotta find something else to get into”.

“It’s like that now Jazzy? You get a girl and then you too good to hang with us?” Ren stated.

“You know it’s not like that. But I just want to spend a minute with my lady. I can’t do that?”.

No one said anything, we just stared. I couldn’t believe my friends were acting like this. Did I act like this when Shaw got a girlfriend?

“You right Jazzy. My fault. Handle your bizz, B” Dehaven said, before giving me dap.

“See yall later tonight though, right?” I asked.

“Nah. We’ll catch you later. Let’s go yall” Dehaven said, rounding up the boys who left without a further word.

The hell was that sh*t about. I got in the car and immediately caught a headache. Were they mad at me, and if so for what? Know what, f*ck them niggas. I didn’t do anything wrong, they were the ones tripping.

“Your friends…are…interesting” Vida said.

“They full of sh*t, that’s what they are” I said.

“Don’t talk down on them. All friends get a little jealous from time to time”.

“Whatever”.

“Don’t get an attitude with me Jazzy. I didn’t do anything to you”.

“I’m sorry”.

“As you should be. Get your ego in check”.

“I just dont like all these niggas looking at you”.

“Shawn. I am an attractive girl. What else do you expect?”

“If they see you are with me, then it should be the end of their looking”.

“Shawn, come on now. Are you a baby or are you a man? Men handle situations like this with no problem. Guys are going to look papi, but whose dick was I sucking?”

Well damn, her putting it like that made me reevaluate. Maybe she was right and maybe I was being childish and overeating. What did I have to worry about? She was with me. Why was I so insecure? We rode in silence for a minute until she pulled over in a secluded parking lot. When she turned off the car, she looked over at me while I continued staring out the window.

“Do you trust me, Jazzy?”

I remained silent.

“I can’t believe this. Do you think I just give head to every guy I like or something?”

I remained silent.

She laughed to herself, but not a laugh that suggested humor. I could tell she was pissed off. Secretly, I was glad to have pissed her off. I felt a sense of satisfaction in knowing I could piss a woman like her off.

“Know what, forget it” she said, putting the keys back into the ignition and turning. I stopped her before she could crank all the way up.

“Vida, I just don’t want to be hurt, ok?”.

“Do you think I would purposely hurt you?”

I remained silent. She sighed. I didn’t want to be having this conversation, I just wanted to feel and touch her. I wanted to feel the warmth of her body. I leaned over the seat and begin kissing her neck. She resisted me at first but eventually started moaning as I sucked. I was determined to leave a hickey on her neck, as I reminder that she was mine. I sucked hard, even bit into her neck like a vampire. She moaned and breathed heavy.

“I want you” she said.

Getting her catwoman suit off was an adventure in itself, as it took 5 minutes for her to get naked in the car. But after she did, my clothes were off in a matter of seconds as we slid into the backseat. The car was small and the windows fogged up in a hurry, but I truly lost my virginity for the first time that night. She rode on top of me in the backseat of her fathers car, no condom, or reserves.  She scratched my back as she came; we both left marks on each others bodies.

She dropped me off a few hours later, giving me a long kiss before I exited the car.

“Call me young one” she smiled.

I gently hit the top of the car and closed the door. My boys were waiting for me outside of my apartment building, smoking weed as I approached. I didn’t know what they wanted, so I just waited. Dehaven eventually stood up.

“I apologize B. We were out of line back there” he said.

I looked at each of them, they all seemed to be in agreement with his words. This surprised the hell out of me.

“Yeah. Yall did sell out on me earlier” I said.

They laughed.

“Joint?” Big Ren asked, extending the weed.

I sat down and took a hit. It was a school night but none of us would be going to school in the morning. We had to finish up on a package anyway.

“So, how did the night go with your friend?” B-High asked.

I could have kept it to myself, and I wanted to. But these were still my boys, and I knew if they had a night with a fine woman, they’d tell me about it. Shaw had done it all the time.

“B*tch had the best pussy ever” I grinned, passing the joint.

We all laughed and joked as I exaggerated the story of me and Vida’s night together. I didn’t have to exaggerate much, the behind the bleacher head and parked car sex was enough to rile them up.

December 4, 1983

For my 15th birthday I spent time with Vida, who had baked me a cake. My mom had bought a cake, but I think she was quickly catching the hint for who the top lady in my life at the time was.

“Make a wish” Vida smiled as I blew out my candles.

“What did you wish for?”

“I’m not telling. Ain’t it bad luck?”

“Did it involve me?”

“Maybe”.

“You are such a tease”.

She picked up a piece of the vanilla cake and attempted to feed it to me. I opened my mouth, ready to eat from her fingers but she instead mashed it in my face, frosting and everything. She started laughing, screaming almost, at the cream on my face. This meant war. I took a piece of the cake and she warned me.

“Jazz, you better not”.

She thought wrong, she got mushed with a handful of cake. She didn’t think I had it in me, I licked my fingers and laughed as she stared in shock, cake falling from her face.

“Don’t be mad at me, you started it”.

“You are going to get it, young one” she said, wiping her face.

Eventually, we made it to the bathroom to clean off, but it didn’t stop at cleaning. We got naked and made our way to the shower. She had a sliding shower, something I’d never been in. Her folks were filthy rich. I felt like a king f*cking a drug dealers princess in his home. I f*cked her as hard as I could, maybe too hard because I came within three minutes.

“Quickie huh?” she grinned.

“You know I got things to do”.

“Now you know that is a sorry ass excuse”.

“If you want, I can stay here longer” I laughed.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “Go head young one.”

I dried off, got dressed and left. Our conversation was in reference to a meeting I had set up with her uncle, Spanish Jose. He was such a busy guy that it took months for him to have an opening for me to come visit him. I was nervous as all hell, I didn’t even know what we were going to talk about. I suspected it would be about business. Jose was still taking 50% of what we sold and there was growing tension in the crew, but I couldn’t exactly say our meeting would be about our crew since I was told by Vida to keep quiet.

I didn’t tell anyone, not even Manny that I was going to see Jose. I took a taxi to his home, or at least one of his homes, and knocked at the door. I couldn’t figure cats like Spanish Jose out. If he was such a well known drug dealer, with connections out of the country, why was he out in the open? With luxery cars in the driveway and a big house in his name.You could look him up in the phone-book and come to his house. How had the FEDS not knocked him out of the game?

I halfway expected a bodyguard to answer the door, but it swung open swiftly and there stood the stocky Spanish Jose. He was a bit shorter than me with a button up and khaki pants. He also had a wine glass in his hand.

“Jazzy, how you doing boss?” he excitedly said.

I walked in nervously and we exchanged greetings. I didnt know exactly what I was there for, if it would be an extended meeting or just a few minutes so I remained standing.

“Have a seat, have a seat” he insisted.

I walked inside of his large home and to the living room where a sectional white leather sofa sat in front of a large TV. This was the life, I thought. He fixed me a drink and sat down, putting the TV on mute. He had been watching a soap opera of all things.

“You like Soaps?”

“Not really” I said.

“What do you like to watch?”

“I don’t watch alot of TV”.

“Do you read?”

“I read some. For school and stuff?”

“Do you read the newspaper?”

“The sports section”.

He took a sip of his drink. I had no idea of knowing if I was saying the right things or not, so I just told the truth. His nonchalant attitude was terrifying.

“How do you relieve stress?”

“What do you mean?”

“This life. Drugs, money, women. It’s a life of stress. How do you get away from it? I know most drug dealers use drugs, money, and women to try and get away from stress. But it only brings about more” he said.

I didn’t know how to answer that. I usually smoked weed when I was stressed. But I figured that was the wrong answer.

“I play basketball. And I like to write poems” I said.

“Nice. You seem to be more cerebral than your running mates”.

“Thanks”.

“To the point. Do you know why you are here?”

“Not really” I said truthfully.

“You don’t want a bigger cut of the pie?”.

“I would, but i also know I have to work my way up to that point”.

“What about Dehaven? Does he share those thoughts?”

Dehaven was pissed at Jose, but I couldn’t throw him under the bus.

“He wants to know what it’s going to take to prove ourselves”.

“Prove yourself to who?”

“You”.

“To me? What do you have to prove to me?”

“That we can handle selling cocaine without trouble”.

“You had never sold cocaine before me, right?”

“Yeah”.

“So you didn’t have to prove it to yourself, no?”

He was right. It was as much about proving it to ourselves as it was proving it to him.

“Yeah.”

“You are a humble young man. I like that. And I will need humble workers for what is going to be coming soon”.

What was coming soon? I waited for him to elaborate.

“Cocaine, pure cocaine is the past. Soon, there will be a new drug. Diamond Crystals instead of powder, that will change the game. Change the entire game. Anyone can sell cocaine, any knucklehead on the street can sell it. But I need to know I have some smart workers, to be able to handle the stress of selling this new crystal. Friends will become enemies because of this. Even your own brother will betray you for it. “

I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, what crystal?

“You and Miss Vida are becoming close, eh?”

“Yes, we are good friends”.

He chuckled.

“Friends. Are friends f*cking these days in the back of cars?”

How the hell did he know that? I froze.

“Don’t worry boss. I’m not upset over that. My niece is a determined young woman. It didn’t matter what I or her father said, she would find a way to get what she wants. To be honest, I am more concerned about you than I am about her”.

“Concerned how?”

“She is far more advanced than she puts on, boss. She reads alot, studies alot, watches alot. She takes after her father.”

“But why should I be concerned?”

He studied me, I figured he didn’t quite know what to say or if he had said too much already.

“I meet with Dehaven and Manny next week. I’ll be dropping my 50% cut to 35% starting in January. And I will be giving you guys an entire ki” he simply said, totally switching the subject.

I finished drinking my wine and watched as he stood up; I guess it was my time to leave. I was more confused about our meeting than I was before we even had the meeting. What crystal? Why should i be concerned about Vida?

“Stick close to your family, boss. They help relieve stress when you are in this life” he said as he walked me towards the door.

“And Soaps” he added, chuckling to himself.

I left feeling both inspired and worried. I had gotten a chance to meet with one of the most respected hustlers in all of New York and I found out we’d get our first ki to move. But I also was told to be concerned about Vida, and I still didn’t understand the whole crystal talk. Spanish Jose was one equivocating dude.

I went home to my family and enjoyed my grandmothers famous banana pudding. She was staying with us for a few months, which made our 3 bedroom apartment even smaller. Eric had moved out and was staying with friends and I was pushed to the living room, letting my grandmother get my room. Annie and Mickey both had their own bedrooms, which seemed unfair to me, but since I spent alot of time spending the night at my friends house, I didn’t let it phase me. For the first time in a long time, everyone was home and together.

I noticed Eric had been acting funny lately. He was normally well dressed and groomed, but his hair looked unkempt and his clothes were worn. The hell was going on with him? He even was borrowing money from Mickey, which was something he never usually did. He was the original hustler of our family, so why was he borrowing money from his sister?

“Wassup with you? You looking rough” I said to my brother who sat on the couch with red eyes.

“Just tired man. Been going through alot of sh*t” he said, scratching his cheeks.

“Stop running the streets so late then and take ya ass to sleep” I laughed.

Eric would normally laugh back, but he didn’t, but his eyes brightened when he saw me reach for the remote.

“Damn bruh. When did you get that ring?” he asked.

“I got it a few months ago. It’s nice, huh?”

“You looking like a baller” he grinned.

“Well, I had to learn it from someone”.

He looked at me and smiled, before turning his head toward the TV. Immediately, the tired, dead look in his eyes returned. It was the first time that my brother seemed jealous of me.

Eric had been a legend in East Trenton High School, where I went. But he dropped out his senior year, which didn’t make sense to my mom or my siblings. But I understood where he was coming from. I could make more money skipping school. Spending 8 hours there took away from business and making money seemed like more of a priority then reading about dead white Europeans. There was one lesson plan in particular that intrigued me though. In English class, we read about the poet Homer and his epic the Odyssey.

I thought Odysseus journey back home was crazy interesting, from his clashes with Gods to having to deal with potential betrayal from his own people.  He was away from home for 10 years, but when he returned, he learned that his wife Penelope had remained faithful to him and didn’t remarry, even when everyone assumed he had died. I wanted to be a King like Odysseus and I wanted a queen like Penelope. I always pictured Vida as my queen, the Bonnie to my Clyde.

March 11, 1984

I stormed through the my apartment, yelling and screaming. This b*tch ass nigga had it, I knew he did.

“Where the f*ck is Eric?” I yelled at Annie who couldn’t figure out why I was so enraged.

“Shawn, calm down it really is not that serious” Mickey said.

I didn’t care, I had been smoking weed and drinking and now the ring that symbolized my power and respect was gone. It was suppose to be in the shoebox under my bed, where I kept my jewels, but it was empty. I knew Eric had it, I just knew it.

My Mom was at work which meant I would confront Eric and not look back. I was tired of his sh*t. I wasn’t the little kid anymore that he could just bully around. I wasn’t that kid anymore and I was going to prove it to him. I was going to take my ring back from him, at all cost.

“Shawn, listen to your sisters. It’s not that serious” Vida said trying to calm me down.

Her words only fueled my rage. I had to prove to her what type of dude I was. I couldn’t be pushed around. I wasn’t a baby, I was a man. I couldn’t let her see my brother steal from me and not do sh*t. I paced the living room cursing and yelling, waiting for my brother to return from the barber shop, where he said he was going.

After an hour of waiting, I sat on the couch with Vida and my siblings, who were still trying to calm me down.

“Shawn. It is just a ring, and he is your brother. Is it worth it?” Annie said.

I remained silent and eventually they stopped talking. They cut on the TV and watched in silence, waiting for Eric to return so they could help referee the confrontation. I waited with balled fist and eventually, we heard someone at the door, unlocking it.

He walked in with red eyes, and yawned when he saw us, “F*ck going on in here?”.

I stood up, wanting to look him directly in his eyes, face to face. He was still a little taller than me, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I wasn’t going to let him think I was afraid either, his reign over me was over.

“Where my ring?” I barked.

“What ring?”

“Where my ring, Eric?”

“Nigga who you huffing and puffing at?” he said, the sleep gone from his still red eyes.

“Where my f*cking ring?”

Eric started laughing, he wasn’t taking me serious.

“Eric, do you have Shawn’s ring?” Mickey asked.

“So what if I do? He stole my sh*t from me all the time”.

“Eric, give Shawn back his ring. Please” Mickey replied.

“F*ck that nigga. He got his lil girlfriend around here and now he trying to stunt on me. Shawn, or Jazzy, whatever the f*ck they call him ain’t gon do a damn thing” Eric grinned.

“Step outside” I barked, walking right past him out the door.

I didn’t want to ruin anything in my mothers house, but I was high off adrenaline and anger and I was going to show Eric and the entire projects what would happen if they f*cked with me. In the back of my head, I wanted Eric to decline the fight I was starting and just give me back my ring peacefully. But I knew Eric would rather fight his own brother than bow down to him. He had been acting real funny lately, and stealing my ring was the last straw for me. We made our way down the steps and I readied myself for the scariest fight of my young life.

We walked outside, where a group of people were huddled up playing dice. Vida, Mickey, and Annie all followed, saying stuff to us, but I didn’t hear them. I didn’t give a f*ck what they were saying, I had gone berserk and I was going to get my respect. My pride was hurt and there was only one way to get it back.

Eric grinned as we stared at each other, and people gathered to see what the commotion was about. The moon was full as darkness gave an eerie backdrop to the showdown between brothers.

“I’m outside. Now what nigga? What?” he yelled, holding his arms out and baiting me to attack.

I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face in front of all of Marcy, but I still knew Eric would probably beat my ass in a fist fight. I would have to intimidate him and hope he wouldn’t call my bluff.

“You got 5 seconds to give me back my ring”.

“3, 2, 1″ he quickly said, “Zero. Times up, now what nigga?”

I had enough, it was time to shut him up. I reached in my waist and pulled out my pistol, pointing it directly at him. I heard the many voices that had gathered raise, including the screams from my sisters.

“Shawn, stop it. STOP!” Annie screamed.

“Over a ring? A ring?” Vida echoed.

“Come on Jazzy. Yall are brothers man” I heard someone from the crowd say.

Eric was no longer smiling, in fact, he looked a bit nervous. I loved the new look on his face. I loved it. I needed to see it. My pride depended on it. But Eric was high off more than drugs as well, his pride was at least equal to mine. I could see the devil in his eyes and I justified that he had it coming. I had rationalized that Eric was on drugs and needed to be brought back down to reality. If he could steal from his younger brother, what else was he capable of? These were my thoughts that wanted to justify this standoff.

“Little brother, you ain’t bad enough. You ain’t thorough enough for that. You wouldn’t pull that trigger” he said, slowly, carefully saying his words.

Annie was crying, I could hear her and the chatter from the crowd was making me regret bringing this family business outside. I was going to put the gun down, I really was, and I knew Eric noticed this. It was the only reason he decided to egg me on. Why would he do that? With the devil in his eyes, he smiled and blurted out the words that would cause me to want to murder my own brother.

“I thought so, pussy”.

I closed my eyes, confused and angered as I pulled the trigger and aimed right for his f*cking smile. The sound of the gunpop scattered the crowd and caused the darkness of my eyelids to light up. The gun rocked in my hand as I took a step back, still with my eyes closed. I was afraid to open them and wake up to the world of trouble I was now in. I heard screams from every direction but it was Vida’s voice that woke me from my trance.

“Oh My God Shawn!” she screamed.

I opened my eyes and saw Eric stumbling to the ground. I had shot him.

I looked at my sisters who ran to his side and I froze in terror. What had I done? What the f*ck had I done? I put the hot gun in my waist which burned my belly and hopped up and down.

“F*ck” was all I could muster.

Watching people run away from me and seeing my brother motionless on the ground scared me to death; I turned around and ran away. I ran from my troubles and the guilt and shame that was back at the crime scene. I didn’t know where he had been hit, but I figured he was dead. I didn’t know where I was running but I ran off into the night as if I had not just shot my nigga.

I was out of breath, feeling soulless, but I kept running, tears running down my eyes. I eventually made my way to Ricks house.

“Hey Shawn, surprised to see you here” he said when he saw me at his door.

“I need a place to stay”.

He saw me sweating, with red eyes, and I saw the concern in his eyes.

“Mom kicked you out?”

He let me in and I told him the story, the whole story.

“You think he’s dead?”

I didn’t reply. I was afraid to answer it aloud.

“You gotta go to the police” he said.

“Can I just stay here for tonight? Please”.

He saw the defeated teenager in front of him and agreed, letting me crash on his couch for the night. I got very little sleep that night, as I was back and forth to the bathroom, feeling like I was going to vomit each time. When I did wake up, the house was empty. I cut on the TV and searched the news for a report on the incident. I figured a story about a teen killing his brother would be front page news, but I saw nothing. After half an hour, Rick returned.

“Eric isn’t dead” he immediately said when he saw me.

My heart was relieved, I had never been so happy in my life.

“You barely got him in the shoulder. No real damage. He’s in the hospital right now and he wants to see you”.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Well I went to the newstand and didn’t see anything about a shooting. So I went to Marcy and talked with your people. Your mom is hurt and everyone on your block is talking about it. But Gloria told me that Eric is ok and just wants you to come see him”.

“What about the police?”

“You think your family is going to press charges? And the police couldn’t care less about a shooting in the projects, especially one that wasn’t serious”.

I sat on the couch and put my hand in my head. I was ashamed of myself, allowing a ring to push me to shoot him. I aimed right for his face, I wondered how I had missed. I hadn’t believed in God, but I had renewed faith. It seemed God heard and answered my prayer that I had made when I layed on Rick’s sofa, crying. My brother was alive.

Rick drove me to the hospital and dropped me off.

“Yall brothers. Yall can get past this” he said.

I gave him a pound and made my way through the hospital, embarrassed as the nurses escorted me to his room. I didn’t know what I was going to say when I saw him. I could apologize like a mad man, but what do you really say to someone you just shot? I didn’t have much time to prepare a speech, as I reached his room in only a few minutes.

I stood near the door and saw him eating breakfast, some cheerios. He had one arm in a sling, but didn’t seem to be hurting much. He was watching TV and emptying the spoon of milk and cereal into his mouth, swallowing without really chewing. He always ate like that. He couldn’t see me, and I smiled to myself thinking about how I use to always get annoyed at the way he ate. I was a pleasant sight to see this morning.

I walked in and coughed to signal my arrival, he turned his head and looked me over. What was he going to say to me? What could I say to him?I didn’t say anything, just looked at him and took a deep breath. We stared at each other like this for a few painful moments.

Suddenly, Erics facial expressions changed from blank to that of someone that had just heard the funniest joke in life. He laughed. But his laugh didn’t stop, he it kept going until he was laughing out of control. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen, given the situation. I couldn’t help it, I started laughing too. We were both laughing hard, the nurse at the door had to be confused about what was so funny.

Eric and I shared a knowing and brotherly laugh. We both knew why we were laughing. We saw what the game could do to us, how it could rip apart a family. We both had done each other wrong and it was humorous how serious we took something that was so trivial. But this was how the game was, when you were infected with D’Evils. I sat with him for a few hours, we laughed and talked about nothing in particular. We never spoke about the previous night.

January 31, 1984

There was a buzz in the air when the movie Scarface came out. Everyone went to go see it and most went twice. I saw it with the crew three times, but it seems Vida was most intrigued by the movie. We saw the movie 6 times together and this was the 7th. It fascinated us to see someone with nothing rise up so fast and become the man. We wanted it and thirsted for that power.

While the rest of us would be yelling at the screen, laughing, and joking while watching, especially since we had seen it multiple times, Vida watched intensely. She wouldn’t blink anytime Tony Montana was on the screen. Even on our 7th viewing she watched as if this was her first time seeing it.

“You want to know a secret?” I whispered.

“What?” she asked, still looking at the screen.

“Scarface dies in this movie” I grinned.

She chuckled, “I know that!”.

“Then why are you looking as if this is your first time watching”?

“I like to immerse myself in the story, Jazzy. I like to imagine myself in the movie”.

“Why? You already live the movie, your entire family is Scarface”.

“Keyword. My family. I’m not involved with any of it”.

“Shhhh” a couple in front of us hissed.

“F*ck you” I shot back.

The couple turned around and shook their heads.

“Vida. You need to get over this Scarface fantasy. You have money and you are smart. You can go to college or something. We sell drugs because we have to, not because we want to” I said.

“Jazzy, but I need to also. I feel the game is in my blood, I want to be involved”.

I grinned, “Vida, f*ck that. While you are with me, I won’t allow you to f*ck with this game”.

She eyed me and then the couple who had once again turned around, annoying by our mid movie conversation.

“Fine, Jazz” she said, leaning back in her seat.

I kissed her forehead.

We kept watching the movie and after half an hour, Vida started smiling to herself.

“You want to piss them off some more?”

“Who?” I whispered.

She pointed to the couple in front of us that had shusshed us.

“How?” I asked curiously.

Vida was a fearless woman, she went for my crotch and unzipped my pants. Vida loved giving head, it was almost a past time for her. She said it made her feel in control and empowered. She loved to see a mans eyes roll in the back of his head and break him down. I had developed an affinity to head, especially since she liked doing it so much.

Apparently, she also had a thing for public display of affection. She pulled out my penis and started sucking it on the spot, making slurping noises intentionally. Within a matter of seconds, the couple that was in front of us turned around, possibly wanting to shush us again. The look on their face when they saw Vida’s head bobbing in my lap was priceless.

May 15, 1984

Tomorrow was Vida’s birthday but I was going to surprise her today with her gift. She would be expecting it the next day, but I had promised my mom I would go into the city with her. I brought with me strawberries and whipcream, I was ready for some kinky and delicious birthday sex. Vida had turned me out sexually in less than a year, introducing me to all kinds of positions and techniques. She had that I was so shy and timid in bed and eventually told me she wanted me to boss her around in the bedroom and be rough with her.

It took a while because I saw her as a beautiful and delicate flower, but eventually I started being more rough. Now, I felt I was a master of rough sex. Pounding her from the back, picking her up and throwing her on the bed, and talking dirty; she liked dirty talk.

She wanted me to call her my b*tch, my , my slut, all types of shit like that. She would always insult me while we were having sex, to try and get me to respond with insults of my own.

“That’s all you got? F*ck this pussy harder” she’d yell as I was hitting her doggystyle.

I’d respond by grabbing her hair and thrusting even harder.

I was ready for some of that rough sex but when I saw Dehaven’s bike outside of her front door, I couldn’t comprehend what it meant. Dehaven was my boy, my best friend, why would he be over her house? I needed to know the meaning of it. I thought about knocking on the door but decided to walk to the side of the house and peer into the window.

I heard Jimi Hendrix being played from outside of the window and when I looked inside I saw clouds of smoke. I couldn’t see them at first, but I kept looking, thinking one of them would eventually make their way into the living room. Not even five minutes passed and they both came into view and sat on the couch. I stepped back a bit and listened, peaking.

“I want to be in” I heard her say over the low music.

“Jazz won’t let you or something?”

“No. But you are the top guy in the clique, so whatever you say goes” she responded.

“Actually, Manny is-”

“No. Manny is Manny, Dehaven, you are the one who runs things” she smiled.

“So if I let you in on the operations. What’s in it for me?” Dehaven asked.

Vida reached for his crotch and unzipped his pants. I guess you can figure out what happened next. I stepped back from the window and nearly vomited all over their grass. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I ended up leaving the strawberries and whip cream on her front porch and going back to Brooklyn.

Later on that day, Dehaven came to my crib.

“Whats up, Jazzy”.

“Sup”.

“Been looking for you all day. You wanna go play some ball or something?”

“Nah”.

“I saw Spanish Jose the other day, he wants to show us something. Says it’s going to change business forever”.

“Cool”.

“What’s wrong with you, B”

I wanted to punch Dehaven in the face. I hated him. He was no longer my best friend, I would never forgive him for what he had done.

“Nothing” I lied as we left my crib to go smoke some weed.

Summer 1984

It was abnormally hot this summer with heat wave after heat wave and a long drought. The price of coke was rising after a series of busts in the projects. This affected our money and was one of the reasons Spanish Jose had an emergency meeting with Dehaven and Manny.

Dehaven had a twinkle in his eyes as if he had discovered treasure. Manny had a similar look, what they hell were they so giddy about?

“Boys. Being broke ass hustlers is a thing of the motherf*cking past” Dehaven smiled.

“What you talking bout?” Big Ren asked.

Dehaven looked around the room at each of us, including Ty Ty who was allowed to sit in on our meeting. Dehaven shook his head when he saw Ty looking eagerly.

“Anyway” Dehaven said before reaching into his pocket, still with a smile on his face. He hesitated for a while to build the tension. Manny grinned at his actions.

“Come on nigga, get on with it” I said.

D then pulled out of his pocket something that was small, I couldn’t make out what it was. I squinted and saw it was a yellowish white little rock. What the hell was Dehaven and Manny excited over this for?

“What is it?” B-High asked.

“It’s a rock” Dehaven laughed.

We didn’t laugh because I think we were all confused.

Manny stepped in to explain it to us.

“It’s called crack. Base. Rock. Any of those” Manny begin.

“Here, let us show you how to make it” Dehaven said.

We all gathered around to watch this unusual practice. Why was this crack thing such a big deal and how in the world could you make it? We watched as Dehaven brought over a jar and a candle. Manny brought over a bag of cocaine.

“Ty, you got some baking soda?” Dehaven asked.

Ty Ty went into the closet and brought over the baking soda. We were all intrigued by 10 now, it was like a chemistry lab going on. Manny used measuring cups to put cocaine and baking soda into the jar of water. They heated it up with a candle flame and like magic, something started floating to the top. After a few minutes, Dehaven was pulling out the product, which was crack cocaine. This was the diamond crystal that Spanish Jose had spoken about. This was the drug that was going to change our lives.

It could get you high quick and easy and we wouldn’t have to sell it in high quantities like we did when we sold cocaine. We could sell it for cheap, and to more people, and make more money per day. Vida graduated from High School and convinced had her dad pay for her an apartment in Manhattan while she went to college. She would go to school in the daytime and then come to Marcy later on.

B-High and Vida were responsible for making the crack over her crib and Manny would transport it to the projects. Ren, D, Shaw, and I sold the drugs. It was a summer of making money and eating ice cream as we all tried to stay cool from the hot summer.

Things started changing in Marcy as people started getting hooked on crack. Since it was so cheap, everyone could get high including the rich and the broke. Cats could pick up soda cans and take it to the recycling center and come back and get two or three rocks. I didn’t care much at the time about the effects of such a cheap high, all I cared about was the money and the money was good.

The summer was hot in more than one way though, Danny-Dan was shot and killed one night by Cassidy. She was pregnant at the time and 20 years in prison. I went to Danny-Dan’s funeral with Shaw; his mom was there with about 20 other women. I figured they were all his women; but I couldn’t figure if they were sad or glad to see him go. I always wondered who would attend my funeral.

I didn’t stop f*cking with Vida, hell I never even told her that I saw what happened. She wondered why I didn’t call her as much and why I never wanted to kiss anymore, but I think she started to put two and two together after I came to her crib one night, hit it and was ready to leave a few minutes later.

“You’re not staying over” she asked, laying in bed.

“Nah, I’m out”.

“Why?”

“I don’t owe you an answer, Vida”.

She looked hurt, almost taken advantaged of as she lay naked in the bed. I put on my tshirt and zipped up my pants.

“Is that how it is now, between us?” she asked.

“It is what it is” I said, lighting up a joint and walking out the door.

I would never forgive her for what she did to me. The money was good that summer but I was growing tired of slanging. I saw my brother sleeping further and further into drug addiction and I grew tired of the politics and bullshit that my crew was always involved in. I grew tired of standing on corners and dealing with fiends on the daily.

I thought about maybe going out for basketball when school started back or maybe I could join student government or the school paper or something. Maybe I could do something positive for a change instead of watching the world unravel around me.

Everyone was changing and no one was changing for the better. Ty Ty was tired of not being in the crew and had shanked someone, to prove how hard he was. Big Ren went to Juvie for beating up some kid and B-High’s mom was talking about sending him to a boot camp if he didn’t stop slanging.

I knew my mom was hurt by me slanging. It hurt me to see how eyes everytime I left out. She wouldn’t say anything most of the time, but there were others when she’d voice her concerns.

“Shawn. Do I not provide for you? Why do you and your cousin Bernard feel you have to be out there with all of the other no good?”.

“Ma, look where we live? What else do you expect out of us?”

“Shawn. I wake up in cold sweats wondering where you are when you are gone in the middle of the night. I wake up wondering if you are ok. Having dreams about seeing your name in the newspaper the next morning for a shooting”.

“I got to get us out of here momma, or I will die. Inside”.

She cried as I left out that night to finish off the package.

Eric and I no longer fought, we stayed out of each others way for the most part and my sisters pleaded constantly that I’d stop going in the direction I was headed. I just don’t think they could understand why I was involved. To be honest, i didn’t understand anymore either.

My cousin Emery ended up moving into the neighboorhood that summer, and he had already built up a rap sheet in Queens. It would soon be time to reshuffle the crew again.

October 12 1984

B-High, Dehaven, Ren, Ty, Shaw, and Manny, and I met over in the park to discuss our crew in the new crack era. With alot more money rolling in we had to establish some order. There had been a drought in the projects since a snitch had gotten some cats locked up, so we had to limit or reckless behavior so that we wouldn’t be struggling like the other dealers were.

“We gotta have some rules for this shit” Dehaven said.

“D and I have established a few rules for us to follow”.

“One. Don’t get high off the supply” Dehaven said.

“Two. No more breaks while on shift. You stay on the corner until your time is up” Manny said.

“Three. No backtalk. Manny is the capo. I’m his right hand man, Jazzy is first lieutenant. Yall take orders from us only. The rest of yall is solders. No back talk” Dehaven said.

“Also. No snitching. That will get you killed” Dehaven also stated.

“Five. And this is the big one. Turn in ALL profits, don’t keep any for yourself. Don’t skim off a package or steal anything, not a penny, from the stash” Manny said, intensely.

“Yeah. It seems some of yall niggas been keeping a few dollars here and there for yourself. That shit can’t happen no more. At all” D added on.

“There will be swift punishment for anyone breaking these rules” Manny said.

“Like what?” B-High asked.

“One. You will get f*cked up” Dehaven grinned, “and Two. We will f*ck your b*tch”.

We all agreed and nodded to the rules and punishment for breaking the rules. We didn’t know that only a month later we’d have to make an example out of Shaw.

January 8, 1985

With Shaw out of the group, my cousin Emery looking to get in and a few other cats making moves, we decided to reshuffle our entire crew. We ended up teaming with a small clique from another projects in Brooklyn so that we could cover more territory and make even more money. Dehaven used his will to force himself into the leadership position, something no one challenged because even as the youngest, he had the biggest rep. Everyone in the hood knew he was a potential killer.

Big Ren also was dropped from the crew because of his learning disability. We were done with the kid sh*t, we weren’t little kids anymore that didn’t know what they were doing. I was 16, establishing myself as a ruthless figure in my projects after punking Shaw and shooting my brother, and the cats Dehaven assembled around us were all known for putting in work. We no longer were considered a small time crew.

Manny no longer was an official member of the crew, but he was still our direct line to Spanish Jose. Manny was messing with other crews around New York in addition to us, as Spanish Jose finally accepted him into the family as a hustler. Manny came up quick, going from dingy clothes and pocket full of ones to dress clothes, sun glasses, and hundreds. It was what we all strived for.

Ty Ty was officially initiated into the crew, mostly by my insistence, but surprisingly, B-High told me he didn’t want in.

“B, why not?”

“I just don’t want to be involved in it anymore. I’m going to school, playing football. I don’t know them cats Dehaven is bringing in. I just dont want to do it anymore” he said.

“Come on B. We started off in this together, why not finish it together?”.

“It’s just not in me anymore fam”.

And like that, Ren, Shaw, and B-High were gone from the group.

It now consisted of 15 year old Dehaven, 21 year old Vovo who got his name from the car he drove,  18 year old Emery, 19 year old Zo, 16 year old Ty Ty, 17 year old Von, and me.

Vovo had a car which would make everything easier as far as transporting it from project to project. VoVo also convinced his girlfriend Valencia to let us use her apartment to cook the crack up. Eventually, we turned her apartment into a trap house and she moved into Vovo’s crib. Vida also got involved, as her and Valencia would spend most of their time cooking up the crack. Vovo and I would transport it while the rest of the guys would sell it on the various blocks we occupied.

It was a thriving business, we started making thousands a day as a whole, which meant I was making hundreds a day. Everyone in the hood took notice of it, the ladies and the fellas. We started getting all types of women, f*cking different ones daily. The dudes hated on us hard but that only made us stunt even more. We bought new clothes and chains to showcase our hood wealth. We did this for both the males and females. We did it for the females to show that they should f*ck with us. We did it for the males to show they shouldn’t f*ck with us.

We ended up keeping the rules from our previous group, including the punishment of getting your girl f*cked if you broke a rule. There was something about f*cking another dudes girl that made us feel empowered. It was a degrading and humiliating experience for them, but it gave us power and control. To f*ck another dudes girl meant to have something over him, to ridicule him as a lesser man.

I always wondered if Dehaven thought of me as a lesser man.

Spring 1985

By the time the spring hit and crack had been in the hood for almost a year, the entire projects had changed. It seemed everyone was involved with it one way or the other. Either you were using or selling, or someone close to you was. It affected every family in every apartment. I knew my brother used crack, but I didn’t see it as much of a big deal. It was his life.

Mickey decided she was tired of the drug game and said she wanted to go into law enforcement.

“Would you put your brother in jail?” I asked her once.

“If I had to” she replied, unequivocally.

With so much work to do and too many lectures at home I often found myself spending the night over at the trap house. It was the place where the drugs were made but it was also the spot we went to hang out and f*ck women. We didn’t have our own cribs and we no longer were allowed to bring our “drug dealer friends” into our parents homes, so this was the only spot we could hang.

It was a sloppy and unorganized crib. Beat up furniture and bare walls with trash everywhere except in the kitchen. The kitchen had to be clean since it was where Vida and Valencia made the stuff.

One night I came over to stay because my mom had been tripping. Vovo and Valencia was over there watching a movie. Vida was in the kitchen cutting up the crack. It was around 2 in the morning so I figured Vo and Valencia would be staying the night which would leave me on the couch.

They had been smoking and drinking and were obviously out of it.

“What’s going on, man?” Vo slurred.

“Need to crash at the crib” I said.

“You want to get into something?” he laughed.

“Like what?”

“Some pussy, nigga”.

I looked over at Valencia who was grinning just as hard as he was. What were they thinking? Just then, the bathroom opened and a white girl i had never seen before walked out. Who the hell was this? And why was she in the trap house all up in the bathroom? She looked like she was sick, like she had been throwing up.

Vida looked up from doing her work over to me. Me and her hardly ever talked anymore, we were almost like strangers even. Vo leaned into me.

“We got 3 fine b*tches at the crib man. You ain’t trying to see wassup?”.

“I don’t f*ck with Vida no more. I don’t know who this chick is. and Valencia is your girl, man” I responded.

The girl from the bathroom came into the living room and sat down on the couch. She looked out of it. I could tell she had been smoking something other than weed. She was probably coming down from the high of crack, which meant she’d soon be wanting more.

I decided to be cordial and at least find out who she was and what she was about. I was learning that to make it in this game, you had to keep everyone close, from friends, to enemies, to b*tches.

“Hey. I’m Jazzy” I said to her.

She smiled, “Sarah”.

Typical white girl name, I thought. What was she doing here?

“We just left the club, Jazz and Sarah came here for some of the good stuff” Vo said.

Vida got up from table and started cleaning up the area, apparently she was done for the night.

“Sarah. You ever been with a black guy?” Vo smiled.

“No. But I have always wanted to” she smiled back.

Vo laughed and looked over at Valencia.

“You ever been with a woman?” Valencia said.

“Not that either. But I would LOVE to”.

“How about tonight?” Vo asked?

Sarah didn’t get a chance to answer as Vida appeared in the living room, she seemed annoyed by all of us being there.

“Yall Im about to go. Please dont mess up the house” she sighed.

Vovo frowned, “Why you leaving Vida? We are all about to have some fun”.

Vida looked at the four of us on the couch. I don’t think she was amused. As I looked at Sarah, a blond who was pretty cute and Valencia who was a little plump and round in the face but had some big tits, I started to become intrigued by the idea of this fun Vo was alluding to. And as much as I hated Vida for what she had done to me, I was still attracted to her. If we could somehow include her in on this fun, this would be a night to remember. I caught on to what Vo was trying to set up.

“Yeah, I’d like you to stay” I said.

She looked at me and seemed surprised by my statements. It was the first time in months I had even said a complete sentence to her.

“Jazz, it’s late. I have school tomorrow”.

“Aww, f*ck school” Vo laughed.

“For old times sake” I said, grabbing her hand.

I knew Vida was a freak, and the potential of this night could only be heightened with her.

“What exactly do you guys have in mind?” she asked.

Vo reached over to Valencia and pulled out one of her breast, which caught me completely off guard. I have never seen Valencia like that, she was an older chick, like 27 or so, but she seemed comfortable letting Vo handle her like that. Maybe she was just too horny and high to care.

“Vida, go get some coke” Vo insisted.

“Isn’t it a rule that you guys can’t use the stuff-” Vida began.

“F*ck a rule. Get it” Vo responded.

She brought out the coke and spread the lines on the table. We all did one which turned the situation on its head. Titties came out, dicks came out, and inhibition came out as we all migrated to the bedroom. There was one king sized bed in the bedroom, so Vida and I took the floor as she climbed on top of me and started riding me like it was our first time all over again. She bounced hard, her titties smacking me in the face as I went deep into her.

I had never really thought about my dick in comparison to others, I always just assumed everyone had one my size. But when I peaked over at Vo pounding Valencia on the bed, I realized mine was much bigger than his. I believe Valencia noticed it too because of her wide eye expression when she saw it. Sarah helped Vida ride me by bouncing her ass up and down as we f*cked on the floor. After a few minutes, Vida lifted herself up off me as Sarah took my dick in her hands and started sucking. Vida sucked on my neck as Sarah sucked my dick, it was the most powerful moment of my young life.

Sarah eventually got on top of me and started riding, screaming out loud at the size of it. Her pussy was tight, I guess she wasn’t use to the size of a black mans dick. As she rode my dick, Vida stood over me and then lowered her pussy into my mouth. I sucked on it as her juices flowed out.

“Let’s switch up” I heard Vovo say once he saw me getting all of the action.

“Then give me the bed nigga” I grinned.

I wasn’t really checking for Valencia but she was checking for me, as she threw me down on the bed and begin sucking my dick as if it was a pop sickle on a hot summer day. It was to that point the best head I had ever gotten, even better than Vidas. I looked off the bed and saw Vo hitting Vida from the back, but I grinned when I saw her looking at me as she took dick from him. She was moaning, but in my head I knew she was fantasizing about me.

Sarah was free lancing between both sides, and eventually she came over to the bed and begin sucking my nuts as Valencia sucked my dick. My dick was so hard and long, that they even begin to share it, Valencia taking the top and Sarah kissing the base.

We ended up switching positions and partners for the next few hours. The coke energizing our sex and providing super hero like stamina. The positions were numerous, as one minute I’d be f*cking Valencia while she sucked Vo’s dick or I’d be f*cking Sarah while she licked Vida’s pussy.

It was a night of drugs and sex. A night where I had my first orgy. A night that I truly fell out of love with Vida, seeing her as nothing more than a piece of meat.

The next morning when I woke up, all of the girls were gone. I presumed Vida had went to school and Valencia had went to work, she had a job doing retail. I figured I would never seen Sarah again, she was just some random druggie. We had many of them come through for drugs that we’d end up f*cking.

Vo was knocked out sleep on the couch, still laying in his draws even though it was almost noon. I walked into the kitchen, hungry as hell, and made breakfast, some cold pizza and pringles.

Our microwave wasn’t working so I had to eat the leftover pizza cold and the knuckleheads had forgotten to put the soda in the refrigerator so I had to drink it warm. Either way, after the crazy night of sex that had drained me of energy, the meal tasted great and replenished me.

I looked around the broken down apartment as I put on my Jordans, gold chain, and sweat suit. We were some hood rich ass niggas. Money in our pocket, but living in a dump. I shook my head as I left to head to the block.

1985 was a great time for music, even though crack started taking over. I was falling in love with the Hip Hop movement that went on at the block parties. From the break dancing to the grafitti to the djing and emceeing, I loved it all.

My mom had stopped throwing them since fights and even a few shootings had occurred at her parties (and her breakup with Rick had something to do with it as well), but there were still tons of them in the projects and around the other boroughs. Since VoVo had a car, we were not just restricted to Marcy or Brooklyn. We went to parties in Queens, Harlem, and the Bronx.

I loved parting in the Bronx, especially since there were so many great rappers that performed there. I sometimes would envision myself one day making it on stage and performing. My favorite rappers at the time were Doug E Fresh, the Fat Boys, Run DMC, and Roxane Shante.

But my favorite rapper was LL Cool J. I saw him perform one time in a club in Brooklyn and since that day I was wearing sweats and chains just like him. I even had the multi-colored fisher hat that i saw him sporting from time to time.

I would wake up with hip hop ringing in my head and it would carry over to when I went to work.

While I was on the block slanging, I would be rapping to myself. I found out that I actually was pretty good at putting words together and I would often walk to the corner store to buy a quarter water so i could use the brown paper bag to write down my rhymes.

“The hell you writing, nigga” Zo would ask.

“Writing rhymes”.

“Why, you an emcee?”

“Not yet”.

I didn’t feel like explaining things to them, so I didn’t. Eventually, writing the rhymes down on the paper would be a distraction, so I started memorizing them in my head until I got home and then I could write them down. I did this for months until I had a few notebooks filled with rhymes that I had memorized while slanging. I didn’t know what I was going to do with the rhymes, but I decided one day I would know. I hid them in my closet.

The women that we would f*ck came in bunches. They loved a nigga with money. It was like they could smell who had money and who didn’t. Whenever we went to a party or a club, we always left with a few women. I ended up f*cking many of them with the dudes in my crew. Dehaven and I even got a STD together for messing with two sisters.

We never used condoms and we always would nut in the girls mouth, but that shit didn’t protect from getting burnt. D and I went to the clinic together and got some medacine to clean up our STD, but before we left, we got the number from the cute lady at the front counter. We ended up f*cking her later that week.

Our clique started growing close. Our relationship was business first and foremost, but the more time we spent handing the more fun we had. We smoked weed, went to clubs, got chicks, and laughed with each other. It was never anything too deep, except with Ty Ty and Emery, who I considered more than just business friends.

Emery was my cousin, so we had some deeper subjects we could talk about but I found myself cliquing the most with Ty Ty. Unlike the other cats, he wasn’t always trying to flex or show how hard he was when it wasn’t necessary. He had proved his worth by showing he wasn’t a b*tch, but he wasn’t always going around trying to start anything either. I found out we both could talk and chill together without having to smoke weed or talk about the drug game, we could talk sports, or current events, or family. Ty became my best friend.

One night, we all went to a block party in Von’s projects. Von was a quiet cat. He didn’t start much trouble but he was ironically the only known murderer in our clique. He had killed his stepfather for violating his sister when they were younger. Everyone knew he killed him, but the police never were able to pin a charge on him. He got much respect in his hood for that.

Von told the story to us one time about how he dressed in black, put on a hoody, and murked his step dad in an alley. Said that he felt no remorse when he pulled the trigger and ended the old mans life.

While at the block party, we saw Snoopy, the rival drug dealer from Marcy. We could tell he was high, we would see him often smoking his own supply in our hood so it wasn’t surprising that he was high at a party. He was a flashy type dude, always drawing attention to himself and wanting to be seen. When he saw us, he sized us up with his crew and purposely pumped into Von as he walked by.

Von ended up punching Snoopy and a fight between our two cliques erupted. I punched a few niggas but got caught in the back of the head with a beer bottle. Dehaven managed to stab the guy who had hit me with the bottle and Von ended up stomping out Snoopy and snatching his chain.

We won the fight, but it led to my first time losing a close friend to this life. A week later, Snoppy gunned down Von.

Summer 1985

After attending Von’s funeral, we all planned to retaliate, but it never came to past. Maybe it was God intervening, but Snoopy ended up getting killed by one of the other crews in our hood. He had been messing with more than one crew, the drugs he was on had caused him to lose his mind. He was too reckless to live.

Things had totally changed in the projects. There was always violence but people were even more violent. Murders were happening every other week and the police wound up in the projects on the hour. They say more money more problems and that seemed to be true as there was more money in the hood than there had ever been. People had new cars, the basketball courts had been fixed, and everyone was sporting new clothes and jewelry. People were eating good with so much money from crack.

There was a 4th of July bash in Marcy and it seemed everyone in New York was there.

The place air smelled of BBQ and smoked burgers as people chatted or watched the basketball game that was going on at the courts. We had just finished off a package for Manny and had just gotten paid, so each of us in the crew had a few stacks in our pockets. We felt like a million bucks as we stunted in the projects.

“Damn nigga. Every one is here” Zo said.

“Hell motherf*cking yea” Vo Vo laughed.

“But lets pour one from the ones who can’t be here” I said.

We all poured liquor for Von and Danny-Dan and the other hustlers we had lost in the last year.

“Is that your sister over there?” Dehaven asked, pointing out Annie.

It was and she was talking to a guy from Snoopy’s old crew. Even with Snoopy gone, there was tension between us and that crew. I knew how niggas worked and how they would try to hurt us by f*cking one of our family members or pimping her out, or having them set us up. We all knew how messy that type of shit could be.

“Handle that” Dehaven said to me.

I didn’t need to hear another word as my crew went to go get a plate and I made my way over to my sister.

When the guy saw me approaching, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked in the other direction. What a f*cking coward. I was pissed.

“Don’t even say nothing Shawn. I am grown” she said when she saw the anger in my face.

“Why do you always have to f*ck with the no good niggas?” I asked.

“Why does every guy I talk to have to be no good?”

“Because they are. Why can’t you talk to the cats at your school or something?”

“Shawn I am a grown ass woman. I will talk to whoever the f*ck I want to. I’m tired of you doing this sh*t” she said.

I looked over at the guy she had been talking to who was smirking with his friends. I wasn’t going to let him stunt on me in my own hood.

“F*ck this” I said as I made my way over to him.

No words needed to be exchanged, as me and the guy ending up throwing down right then and there. My boys saw a crowd gathering and ran through the crowd, ready to jump in if the fight became more than a one on one bout. The fight remained a fair one as we both got a bunch of good licks in. The fight ended in a draw as one of the older men in the neighborhood eventually broke it up.

Annie was pissed off, as I expected, but I was only protecting her. She grabbed me by the hand and led me inside the project building as I cursed out the guy from the other crew.

She slammed the door and begin her rant.

“What the hell is wrong with you Shawn? You are acting like such an asshole idiot”.

“Don’t give me that Annie. This dude only wants to f*ck you so he can get back at us”.

“And what if I just want to f*ck him? It is my prerogative”.

“Whatever. Be a lil ho if you want to”.

“A ho? A ho? You want to talk about being a ho? What about you Shawn? Who is the real ho? I have heard about all of the orgies you be having with those nasty girls. You don’t even use a condom half of the time. Nasty”.

“Why are you trying to turn this into something else, Annie. We are talking about you messing with guys who don’t mean you no good”.

“No, we are talking about you staying the hell out of my life” she yelled.

“Is that how you want it Annie? After all we have been through? I’m just trying to protect you.”

“No Shawn. You are trying to protect yourself. You think the world revolves around you and that everyone is out to get you. Newsflash. Other people want to live too”.

“Annie all I dont want is for you to mess with my friends or people I know. is that too much to ask?”

“You are such a hypocrite. You f*cked my friends from school when I brought them around, yet I can’t talk to anyone you know?  It would turn into World War 3 if I ever thought about f*cking Dehaven” she said.

The thought of her f*cking Dehaven enraged me to no end. I was so angered, I didn’t even know I had swung. By the time I came to my senses, it was too late. I had slapped my sister. My best friend growing up, the one person I knew always had my back. I had hit her. I had hit a woman.

She took a step back and held her mouth, she was shocked, as she should have been.

“Oh my God, Annie I am so sorry”.

“Dont touch me” she screamed, “Who are you?” she asked.

“Annie, Please I am sorry. I just lost my mind for a second. I am sorr-”

“I dont know you anymore Shawn. I don’t know you” she said, stepping from in front of me with tears in her eyes and walking out of the door.

Just like when i had shot my brother a year prior, I decided to flee from what I had done. I ran away, leaving my crew, leaving the projects, and trying to outrun the guilt and shame of my behavior. I ended up back at the trap house, with nowhere else to go.

I was being tormented by the image of my sister looking at me and crying, not knowing who or what I was. It scared me because I didn’t know either. I didn’t know where I was going in life or where I’d end up. I wanted to be away from myself. I needed to get away from myself.

I went into the kitchen and turned on the stove. I created the crack that was destroying my community and turned to it for solace. I put it in a pipe and smoked it, just wanting to get away from it all. Euphoria hit me immediately, as I collapsed on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. I felt on top of the world, I felt like I was flying.

i felt like I was in a new world, a world of fantasy and love. I felt energized and happy, forgetting the events at the BBQ. I heard fireworks going off outside but the real fireworks were going off in my blood as the drug reached every corner of my body and inflated me with happiness.

It didn’t last though, in fact, it wore off in about 5 minutes. After the effects were gone, I was back to the world I hated. I was back to being Shawn, the unpredictable no good young man I had become.

I felt even lower than before. I cried as I thought about who I was. I thought about my mom and what she would think if she saw me like this. I thought about Annie and wondered if she would hate me forever. I thought about my dad and wondered where he was. I wondered if he still loved me. I stared at the ceiling and tried to resist the call of the drugs that could relieve the pain. It was that moment that I hated me and everyone that created crack.

1986-1987

In the next two years I settled into my role as a hustler in the crack era. I made good money which kept me looking fly and allowed me to purchase my first car. I also would take care of anything my mom needed financially. Eventually, she moved out of Marcy and into a safer apartment complex. I could have went with her but I needed to be in Marcy, it was my home. Annie and Mickey had both moved out and were making moves in their careers and Eric had cleaned himself up and was going to barber school.

I was the only one still involved in the trouble in Marcy and as I continued making money there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. My crew was living good as well, Vida no longer f*cked with us, she was doing business with Manny but we got another girl to replace her. We had three girls making the crack while the rest of us sold it and moved it across the city.

Every now and then we’d hear about people moving down south to sell drugs but we weren’t thinking about interstate hustling as of now. We thought we had everything that we needed in New York. Everything over the next few years went surprisingly smooth, outside of one incident where Zo got shot uptown. He survived but was in a coma for a short time. I went to visit him and spent the night reevaluating my life and thinking maybe I should give up hustling. When Zo came to the next morning, I had forgot all about that night. I wasn’t going to stop hustling no time soon.

The life involved more than just f*cking with the streets but also messing with women. I paid a girl 5 G’s to have an abortion and started limiting my girl list to less than 5 so I could keep up with who I was sleeping with. I wasn’t ready to have a baby and definitely didn’t want to be tied down to any of these chicks. I don’t know when it officially happened, but I didn’t particularly like romance with women anymore. I saw them for either pussy or head, preferably head.

I liked getting pussy but I would normally meet a chick and just get her to go down on me. It was so much less intimate and didn’t require that I do anything or risk pregnancy. She would come through, suck my dick, I’d bust in her mouth, and send her away just as quick. Alot of the girls called me lazy dick, or a waste of a big dick. Because I didn’t put in work into making them get theirs. When I was actually in the mood to put it down I’d f*ck up their entire world. Those girls got special treatment, trips to the mall, or out to dinner. But that was rare treatment, usually only for girls I that were down for me.

I was skipping school most days and started getting straight F’s. The principle would call me in and ask when I was going to turn it around.

“You made such good grades your first few years in this High School” he said.

“Is it something at home?” he asked, looking at me.

I grinned and turned my head so he could see the ring shining in my ear. I was a hustler dude, I didn’t need your lesson plan.

“I see. Go back to class, young man”.

I left his office and went back to the block to finish off my package.

It was black history month and as usual they were talking about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, because as you know, those are the only leaders worth talking about. I missed most of the lessons but had decided to spend the entire day at school. I was interested because the teacher was talking about slavery.

I was interested in the topic of slavery, especially since I sometimes felt like a slave to the drug game. The fiends were slave to the drugs. I always wondered how did we get to that point. I figured it had to be residue from slavery. The white man had did it to us. But this teachers lesson plan was different from what i expected.

He wasn’t talking about the white man putting us into bondage, he was talking about Africans that sold other African tribes into slavery. I didn’t believe it, but when I opened the book and saw the illustrations of African’s selling other Africans to the white man. I couldn’t believe it. Had we put our selves into this situation? Did we sell our souls? And for what? Was I selling my kin into slavery?

It hurt my head listening to the lecture. And quite frankly, I would have rather stayed ignorant than learn about Africans selling other Africans. I got up in the middle of class and walked out of that class. It was the last time I ever stepped foot in school.

I started going to clubs pretty much everynight to listen to the rappers and to network with other dealers in the area. Although out crew made money, we always were on the look for other business opportunities. I couldn’t help rapping in the clubs after I saw so many terrible cats up there battling. During an open mic, I went on stage and said a freestyle. The club went nuts which I didn’t really expect. I won the open mic and won $50.

Damn, maybe there would be something to this. I found rapping to be fun and it came natural but I never actually thought I would be a rapper or anything. It was too many rappers in the city, and seemed like too much work to get a deal. I knew a bunch of broke rappers but didn’t know many broke crack pushers. Drugs always seemed much more lucrative.

I ended up meeting a DJ at the club that I won open mic at, DJ Clark Kent. He was a cool cat, really passionate about music and breaking into the industry. He was also pretty impressed with my suave flow when I was on stage.

“Yo man, you really could have a future in rap”.

I laughed “Nah man. I got my own thing”.

“I’m telling you man. That game doesn’t last. You’ll eventually need to get involved in something legit. And you really got talent. I ain’t never heard a flow like that”.

“I appreciate the comments bruh”.

“What’s your stage name again?”

“Jazzy”.

He laughed “Get the f*ck out of here”.

Was he dissing my name? I didn’t react.

“Nah man. I’m saying. I know this rapper who goes by Jaz. Jaz-O”.

The next night at the club, Clark Kent introduced my to Jaz-O, an up and coming rapper who had been performing and making a name for himself for a long time. Jaz was a cool cat, real down to earth and knowledgeable about the industry. Meeting Kent and Jaz in less than a week was divine almost, because both would have a large influence on me in the coming years.

I’d come to the clubs and see Jaz perform and he begin bringing me up on stage with him. At first I did it just to fool around, but when he passed me the mic, I knew I had to spit something crazy or risk having us thrown off stage. Naturally, the words came to be as I begin busting freestyles. Jaz-O loved my flow, he said it was similar to his and soon we started rapping together all the time.

“What you a rapper now” Emery asked one time while we were on the corner.

“I guess you can call me that” I laughed.

“Man, you need to stop playing with that shit and get serious about this drug shit” Dehaven said, adding in his two cents.

D and I were once best friends, but at this point, we were just crew-mates. We’d go to the clubs together, sell drugs together, and every now and then f*ck b*tches together. But he was no longer the dude I saw as a brother from another.

Jaz started showing me the ropes and how the music industry worked. He had been recording demos and sending them to the major record companies. We even made a trip over to Def Jam and met Russel Simmons in the lobby. Russel said he’d give the demo a listen firsthand and get back at us.

Jaz said when he got in the door, he’d bring me with him. I was skeptical at first but after meeting Simmons and seeing how serious Jaz was about his craft, I started believing him. He brought me on stage one time at a Christmas bash, a weeks after my 19th birthday and we left the club with 2 G’s in our pocket. Jaz got 5 stacks for performing, but he gave me 2, gave his DJ 1, and kept the other 2 for himself. He was cool like that and it seems he really was serious about bringing me along for the ride.

I went to my mommas house that night and gave her a G.

“And where did you get this from” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s legit momma. Rapping” I grinned.

“Rapping? Boy, when are you going to get a real job like your siblings” she laughed.

“Didn’t you always tell me I was special Ma? I’m doing things my own way”.

She couldn’t help but smile and shake her head.

“I hope this leads to you quitting the drug thing” she sighed, changing her mood.

I gave her a kiss and left before she had a chance to lecture me.

Every-time I’d hang with Jaz he would tell me he wanted me to rap full time and quit the drug game. I believed Jaz meant well and was dedicated to breaking into the industry, but I couldn’t quit what was bringing in steady income to chase a dream. But upon his urgence, I did end up modifying my stage name. I was no longer Jazzy, I would be Jay-Z.

Jaz was going on tour soon and he insisted that I come.

‘I’ll think about it man. I really will” I said to him.

I went home and slept on it, waking up realizing I had too much going on in Brooklyn to just drop it. I called up Jaz and told him to go on without me.

“But Jaz. If something real comes up. Call me up and I will be there” I said.

“Aight Jay. I’m trusting you man. When I get this deal, you the first one I’m calling nigga”.

I felt the sincerity in his voice, and in the back of my head I believed a deal would come for him soon enough.

I still went to clubs in my spare time, and even won a few battle contest under the name Jay-Z. One night after I got on stage for a battle I ran into Calvin Klein, who was once the top hustler in Brooklyn. He had moved his business to New Jersey as a way to throw off the Brooklyn police and get new money.

Moving into new territory always meant turf ways but Klein was a hustler and a killer so it wasn’t nothing to him. His people took out a kingpin in Jersey and moved in on their territory, setting up shop and taking over their business. I was impressed by how easily Klein could become the man.

I bumped into him in the club and we chatted it up for a few minutes. He said he liked what i did on stage and repping Marcy well. I didn’t care to talk to him about rap though, I wanted him to know me as a hustler, someone inspiring to be like him.

“My money doesn’t come from rap” I grinned.

“Oh is that right Jay-Z? Well just know that the money we are seeing up here ain’t shit compared to what it is down south” he said.

“I keep hearing that. What’s so good about the game down south?”

“Bruh, that is where the money is. We got Reagan and the mayor coming down hard on us in the northeast with that War on Drugs bullshit. But down south? Baltimore, DC, Virginia? Niggas is becoming millionaires in months man. Months”.

“Word?”

“Months, nigga” he said before giving me pound and moving on to other business. He was a wanted man in that club, giving pounds to everyone and chatting ti up. Everyone showed him love, from the niggas to the b*tches. And if he was telling me going down south was the next come up, then I believed him.

I told Dehaven about the conversation I had with Klein, but D was more concerned about hating on Klein than anything.

“That nigga think he’s the baddest motherf*cker alive. But forget that, he is a coward. How you gon leave Brooklyn? He’s a lame”.

“F*ck all that D. Did you hear a word I said? NY has reached it’s potential as far as this drug sh*t. Down south is ripe for the taking, man”.

Dehaven blew me off and accused me a riding Klein’s dick like the rest of them. He wasn’t trying to hear what i was saying.

“Ima f*ck that niggas baby momma, watch” Dehaven laughed, smoking a blunt.

I left, remembering why it was now pointless to talk with Dehaven.

Manny later talked with Dehaven and told him that what Klein was saying was true. D would never admit that he was wrong but he did revise his strategy and caved in to the relocation plan. He called around, got connected with some folks and as 1988 rolled around, we were planning to make a trip down south to the Nations capital.

Before I left, I told my mom I was leaving for a few months. I told her it was for a tour with Jaz-O. This seemed to satisfy her as she hugged me and told me to call often. I left New York for the first time and prepared for the new life ahead of me in D.C.

1988

Moving to D.C. was culture shock for everyone that was coming from New York . Dehaven had gotten connected with various cats and Manny put together a crew of hustlers that would all report to a big time money maker named Taj. He was a muslim, prayed in the day time, and sold all kinds of drugs on the side. I always thought that there was something off about it, but I never said anything.

Taj was a small guy, 5’6, 150 pounds, thin frame, but no one ever questioned him; well a few guys did but they would up missing. I knew from the jump Dehaven would have a problem taking orders from someone like him, and I figured I’d have to help keep him out of trouble. Taj would always be quoting some black power philosophy to us and expected us to take heed, but I never really quite got what he was talking about; at least when I first got there.

“The War on Drugs campaign is an assault on the black man. There wasn’t a war on drugs when Veterans returned from Vietnam . But when blacks find profit in a business that they created, they are ready to have a war. The predator continues to victimize the victim” Taj said.

“Aren’t the fiends the victims?” I asked curiously.

“My brother, you will understand one day we don’t create institutions. We’ve never had that power”.

He drank his coffee and then went back to reading the newspaper. He always did things like that, left it up to you to understand what the hell he was talking about. He was a weird cat, never drank alcohol or smoked weed, always had his head in a book or newspaper, yet was still employing the gangstas and hustlers that did the dirty work in his organization. Dehaven thought he was full of shit, but I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of Taj.

The new crew consisted of Tone, a machine gun toatin’ rough neck with a thirst for blood shed. Ty Ty, who only was accepted off the strength of my rep. Dehaven, the BK hothead with a chip on his shoulder. Emery, a master at math and handling money. And then there was me, the solider that did what he was told and did it well.

Back in Brooklyn , we were a reckless group that f*cked b*tches and watched TV while we bagged dope and counted money. There was no organization or order, just a group of niggas wilding out. Taj broke that out of us immediately when we came to D.C. There would be no play in the trap house, no drugs, no drinking, no women, no TV, no phone calls. Hell there wasn’t even a phone or TV in the small apartment. The only thing that when on there was making drugs, bagging drugs, and moving it in and out.

While we had made a good deal of money in Brooklyn , we never had much run ins with the police because they still considered us small time. Collectively, we never made six figures or anything close to it. We weren’t FED worthy and lacked kingpin status. We made enough money to buy a used car, some jewels, and take a b*tch to Roscoes Chicken and Waffles.

Taj on the other hand, was a kingpin. He had police officers on salary that turned a blind eye to what he did, he had connects to the ports of the U.S. , he drove luxury cars, and had money invested in stocks and real estate and sh*t like that. He had several crews that worked for him throughout the city. Because of his status, we all respected him immediately upon meeting him. Any man that was a kingpin in a major city deserved our respect.

Unfortunately, not everyone was respecting Taj’s straggle on the city. Every drug game has players, and every player has an opponent. Butter, a Philly Kingpin that had moved to D.C. was Taj’s biggest competitor. Butter was a stark contrast to Taj, he was a former pro heavyweight boxer that believed in bullying cats for power. Taj and Butter had a few sitdowns to come to some compromises but it always ended in Butter claiming that he wasn’t going to take his sights off owning more than half of the city.

“I ain’t willing to share a piece of the pie. I want most of the pie, leaving the crust for yall niggas”, he said.

“My brother, I’m not willing to starve so you can get fat-“

“Then you want a war” Butter interrupted.

“Apparently, it is you, my brother that wants a war”, Taj replied.

I watched the sit down turn ugly as Butter stood up and flexed in front of Taj, who simply smiled.

“It’s sad when brothers can’t learn to eat at the table” Taj said.

“F*ck your back to Africa sh*t nigga. Come off on the corners that we discussed, or we will have a problem”.

“Well then we have a problem, brother”.

Butter left with his crew and we prepared for them to strike first. Taj was calling his bluff, he didn’t believe in the savage gang mentality that we had become accustomed to. Dehaven didn’t like that one bit.

“Taj, let’s go AT them niggas before they come at us. Them is our corners” Dehaven pleaded.

Taj smiled before sipping his coffee, “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush them”.

Dehaven frowned at this response. It wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted to load up guns and do a drive by on anyone even remotely related to Butter. I got the vibe from Dehaven that he felt he was playing for the wrong team. He confirmed it a few times while we were on the corner.

“You think Taj knows what he is doing?” he asked.

“Dude is a millionaire. I’d say so”.

“But he ain’t no fighter, man. Butter is hungry, out there busting his gun and taking what he wants. What is Taj doing? In his house drinking coffee and reading some Farrakhan bullshit. We are out here like sitting ducks”.

I remained silent and took in his words.

“This shit just ain’t looking good for us, man”.

“So what do you suggest?”

“Shit, if Butter had a spot on the team. I’d jump ship. No one wants to be on the losing team” he said.

A fiend walked up and gave Dehaven a folded bill. Just as Dehaven gave her the crack, he noticed that the bill was a fake. By that time, the fiend was already running down the block. We chased her down the street as she threw garbage bins on the ground trying to slow us down. We caught her skinny ass when she bumped into a lady with a bag of groceries in her hand.

“Please man. Please, I needed it” the fiend yelled.

I looked into her eyes and felt pity for her. I thought about what Taj had said and how he felt about gang violence and victimization. Dehaven grabbed his gun and was preparing to pistol whip the fiend for making us run. I didn’t want to see Dehaven pistol whip the woman, who was still young but had ole eyes and skin. I just didn’t have the heart to see it.

“Let her go, D” I spoke up.

He looked up at me, crazy look in his eyes.

“Nigga for what? This stupid b*tch has to learn” he said pointing the gun in her face.

“Oh My God” the woman with groceries said once she saw Dehaven with the gun.

“D, f*ck her. Let’s just go”.

Dehaven looked down at the fiend who was shaking and crying and then he spat at her.

“You must have the grace of God on your side” he said before we ducked away from the scene and casually made our way back around the block.

By the time we got there, police cars had surrounded it. D and I quickly turned around and began walking the other way. What the hell had just happened? We figured it had something to do with a snitch. We walked quickly away from the corner and into the park, sitting down on a bench after we felt far enough way from the men in blue.

“Maybe that fiend was Jesus in disguise” Dehaven said, a weird grin on his face.

“And you spit on her” I laughed.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Although the living arrangements were different and it took a while to get use to the people, the game remained the same in D.C. Fiends were still fiends and drugs were still drugs, so we did what we knew how to do. We hustled and we did it well. Even Ty Ty developed a rep for handling his business in the streets. We came up pretty quick, but with us all planning to move back to NYC in the future, we decided not to spend our funds. We saved up just in case we needed bail money or a good lawyer.

Taj taught us to be smart with money, invest in something that would keep money flowing, and to not floss like other dealers. Taj never wore jewels or the flashy urban clothes, he sported a simple haircut and a business suit. I couldn’t front, I admired his swag and wisdom. Nothing ever seemed to bother him, even things that I knew bothered him, he wouldn’t let it show on his face.

The biggest lessons he taught was how to deal with the police, how to check for wire taps, how to communicate without giving away pertinent info to anyone that was listening, and how to be cut throat without actually resorting to violence. He even taught us how to play chess, something none of us niggas from the hood knew how to do.

His presence started to have an effect on me as I started to tone done the way I dressed and I became a lot more mysterious and quiet when communicating with people. I first would test these techniques out on women, always keeping them on their toes and off balance with the things I said. I had one chick that would show me the city, the museums, and monuments and such. She was a Georgetown student but loved messing with the drug dealers of the hood. It turned me off because that reminded me of Vida, but because she had a fat ass and some good pussy, I f*cked with her for a while.

“Jay, I am so excited to see you this weekend…”

I intentionally remained silent.

“Are you there” she said over the phone.

“Hello!?”

“My fault, I was thinking of something” I replied, disingenuous.

That was a technique Taj taught us, a passive aggressive way of gaining control over someone. I found it more effective on women then in the streets, but oh well.

One of the biggest differences between selling drugs in New York and D.C. was that because we dealt with Manny, we were required to drive rental cars back and forth between D.C. and New York with drugs in the trunk. With overzealous cops that wanted to pull over young black people males in nice cars, there was reason to be on edge.

Dehaven and Tone made the first few trips, but Taj wanted to switch up the routine to keep police honest. He brought Ty Ty and I into his office, which had a blackboard on the wall. He had the word “rights” underlined in chalk and two school desks in front of the board.

“What are your rights if an officer stops you in the car?” Taj asked when we sat down.

None of us answered at first.

Come on young brothers. Don’t all rush to answer at once” Taj grinned.

“To remain silent?” Ty answered, unsure of himself.

“Those are your Miranda rights. I’m talking about when it comes to searching the vehicle” Taj replied.

Taj walked over to the board and begin writing, “You have a right to leave if there is no violation”.

“If the police stops you and they do not have a reason to, you have a right to leave. No questions asked” he elaborated.

Over the next half an hour, Taj explained to us that unless police had a search warrant, they did not have the right to search our vehicle. To keep police from having any kind of leverage, Taj reminded us to obey all traffic signs and laws.

Stay below the speed limit, make sure the tags and lights are up to date and working, and don’t do anything reckless. No smoking, no drinking, no loud music, no bullshit. No stops except to get gas, no hotels, no friends houses, no womens houses, no fast food. Make the drive, get the package and come right back.

“This isn’t a road trip, brothers. This isn’t fun. I send two of you so that while one drives, the other sleeps. Do not stop for any reason. Always have someone driving. I know how long it takes to drive to NYC and come back so I will know if you didn’t follow my directions” he warned.

He told us to pack food and stay focused on the job at hand. We weren’t off the clock until we came back home.

“Brothers. You will be driving with a life sentence in your trunk. Don’t do anything stupid” he said before sending us off to pick up the rental.

All of the rules and regulations unnerved me as I begin the drive to New York . I wondered if I got lost, and we took longer to go and come than Taj expected, what would he do? I had never saw him physically harm another person, but I had heard the stories about niggas disappearing after double crossing him. I respected Taj, so I wasn’t going to cross him in any way, but I also understood that this was a test. I had to prove to him that I could be trusted.

It was a surreal moment when on the way back from NY we were pulled over by a highway officer. Ty had been going over the speed limit and I was sleeping but I woke up quick once I heard that siren.

“What the f*ck did you do, Ty?”

“Aw shit” he sighed, slowing down and pulling over.

I immediately tried to remember the things that Taj had told us, specifically that they didn’t have to the right to search the car that had 10 kis, or over $200,000 worth of cocaine in the trunk, and life sentences for me and Ty if we were found out.

“You were going a little fast there, don’t you think?” The office said as he peered into the rolled down window of Ty.

“I’m sorry, sir” Ty responded, nervously not looking at the officer.

“License and registration” the officer asked.

I reached into the glove compartment and handed the papers over to the officer as Ty Ty looked straight ahead and tried not to lose his composure. I nudged Ty in his shoulder as the cop looked over the papers.

“So where you boys headed?” he asked.

“D.C.” Ty replied, still staring at the steering wheel.

“D.C.? What you boys going to visit the president?” he asked.

“Visit family” Ty replied.

“Where is your luggage?”

“The….trunk” Ty said, almost before he realized what he was saying.

The officer looked to the trunk and then at Ty who was sweating something fierce. I begin sweating as well, even though I knew our rights. The officer stared at each of us and then went back to his police car. The hell was he holding us up for? A speeding ticket?

“Ty, tell the cop to give us the ticket so we can roll” I said, with the officer out of earshot.

“Taj told us to be cordial and just follow their directions” he replied.

“The hell you mention the trunk for, nigga?” I asked.

We straightened up as the officers begin making his way back to the rental.

“Standard protocol. But do you boys mind if I check your trunk?” he asked.

This clown was testing us, he thought we wouldn’t know how to respond to such a question.

“We do mind, officer” I said.

He looked at me hard and then in the direction of the trunk.

“Why?”

“It’s our right to refuse a search” Ty Ty responded.

“Do you have anything to hide?” he asked.

Ty begin to answer but I interrupted, “Officer, you don’t have the right to illegally search our vehicle without a warrant. So unless we have broken any other law, could you give us the speeding ticket so we can leave”.

I saw the hostility in the officers eyes when the words left my mouth; it felt good. I had always been afraid of police, afraid of their power and badge. But as I saw the officer go from arrogant to defeated, I felt my fear of them vanish. What could he do? Not a damn thing. Taj was right, the officer wrote us the ticket and we drove off without another word.

We drove straight to Taj, dropped off the packages and went to our shared apartment and went to sleep. I slept soundly for the next 14 hours. When I woke up, I didn’t want to be in D.C. anymore, I wanted to be back home. I wanted to see my mom and siblings. Mickey was pregnant and the drive to New York made me realize how much I had grown tired of the life of a hustler. It wasn’t as fancy or luxurious that I had always envisioned.

With Butter preparing to go to war for turf, I felt it was no better time for me to exit the game than now. I went to Taj and told him my feelings, not knowing how he’d respond.

“Is this what you want, young brother?” he asked.

“Yes sir. I want to be closer to my family”.

“Then you are free to leave, you have been a good worker”.

Like that, Taj gave me a hug, some cash for the run I had made to NY and I bought a plane ticket to go home. I had saved up close to 80 grand in my time in D.C. and now had a new perspective to go along with that bit of wealth. I left New York as a boy and would be coming back as a man.

Upon my return, I bought my sister some clothes and cribs for the baby that was on the way, and told my mom all about the “rap tour” I had been on.

“That’s funny. Your friend Jaz-O called for you” she said.

She knew I had been lying, but she didn’t get into it with me, she smiled and gave me a hug. I could tell she was glad to have me back home. I didn’t have a job or any income after giving up the drug game for the first time, but I still put $10,000 away and upgraded my car. I felt somewhat like a celebrity after coming back from a year of hustling down south. The projects knew why I had been MIA and to see me stunting in a new car, with new clothes, and a new outlook on life impressed them.

It was funny seeing the girls that use to say I was ugly and wouldn’t touch me, now try to act brand new when I pulled up.

“Hey Jazzy” one girl said that had dissed me a year prior.

“It’s Jay-Z” I responded before keeping it moving.

It was around this time that the name Jay-Z started to make it’s way around Brooklyn . Mostly Marcy knew me for hustling, but my name was starting to become known for something that I never envisioned; rapping.

Jaz-O had continued to shout me out on the radio or on record as one of his dudes. He was out on tour at the moment but he managed to get in contact with me one day when I was over my moms crib.

“What’s good baby? I heard you back” he said.

“Yeah man. I couldn’t stay away from BK too long. I needed to be here”.

“You better enjoy your time there man. When I get back, I’m taking you on tour with me so get ready. Be writing your rhymes, Jay”.

“Is that right?”

“It’s very right, my nigga. I’m this close to getting signed. This close. And when I do, I’m putting you on”.

“I’m ready now, Jaz. I’m ready when you are ready” I said, meaning it this time around.

“I will be on tour for a few more months, so just be sharpening your skills on the mic. Hit up them clubs, I been shouting you out so you should have some pull in getting on stage” he said.

And what Jaz said was the truth; as the clubs let me in for free when I told them that I was Jay-Z. It was only local clubs showing me love at the time, but even free drinks and free entrance into local clubs got my head up in the clouds, experiencing a bit of celebrity status. I’d scope the club, listen to a few of the cats on stage rapping, and then ask the DJ to let me get on.

I’d hop on stage and spit my style of raps, quick, tongue twisting rhymes. It was something I had developed while rapping with Jazz for so long and because it was something other cats weren’t doing.

“Give it up for Jay-Z!” the club promoter would say as I grabbed the mic and tried to work the crowd.

Being on stage felt natural to me, I always liked checking the crowd and seeing some skeptical cats staring. I’d freestyle some nights but most times I was spitting the rhymes I had written and just adapt it over the random beat that the DJ would spin. I wasn’t always the most well liked emcee, but I was always shown love. Niggas liked hearing a BK nigga spit something completely fresh.

One night after I performed freestyle, I bumped a jewelry drenched man as I walked off the stage. At first I thought it was an accident, but when he grabbed me, I knew he wanted to talk with me for a minute.

“You’re too good to just be rapping over somebody elses beats” he said to me.

It was then I realized who it was that was talking to me. It was Big Daddy Kane, a member of the Juice Crew, and the man that had released a smash hit record while I was down in D.C.

“Ain’t No Half Steppin”, his single at the time, was put into rotation in the club and the crowd went nuts.

“I’m trying to get started with the whole rap thing” I responded.

“You need a good co-signer so that the DJs will pass you some dope beats. Come on tour with me, I’m looking for some young cats open for me” he said.

And like that, I gave Big Daddy Kane, and his 4 ringed hangs a pound, and made plans to head with him on tour. I called Jaz-O with the news, who seemed to be taken back by it.

“You going on tour with Kane, but not with me?” he asked.

“When you come back, I’ll be right there. Don’t worry about it man. Kane is just going to show me some things” I responded.

The line was clear for a moment until he finally responded, “I’m happy for you man. Have fun and don’t get no groupies pregnant” he laughed.

“See you when I get back” I replied.

I packed my sh*t, got a high top fade like Kane had, bought four rings for my fingers, and was telling my momma bye once again. This time, I really was going on a rap tour.

1989

Performing on tour always sounded like it would be fun and glamorous, and maybe it was for a star, but for me and the other cats that were Kane’s hypemen, it was a joke. We rode in a cramped tour bus for hours only to stop in a club to hype Kane and then a few hours later were back on the road. By the time we had made it to our 5th city, Memphis, I was already tired of it. Kane was a good dude, hyping us up and letting us rap before he took the stage but we hardly got paid much for it. A few hundred dollars a show paled in comparison to what I had been making back in D.C. with Taj.

I had to talk myself numerous times out of quitting the tour and heading back to New York. The only thing that seemed to keep me sane was writing rhymes. The long hours on the bus allowed me alot of time to practice my craft, something I never had when I was in the streets. Rapping always came naturally to me but I understood that to make it in this business I was going to have to continue to improve. I wrote about my life mostly, with Vida, Spanish Jose, Dehaven, and Marcy in mind. I wondered how I could incorporate those stories into my music without giving away too many details. It was then where I started to learn the art of subliminal writing, or spitting verses with hidden meaning.

I’d spit a few lines for Kane and he’d laugh and say it was some real sh*t.

“You put a dope hook to those lyrics with a dope beat, and you’ll be on the radio in no time” he said.

I wanted to learn the game inside and out and by traveling around different regions of the country and seeing how crazy the south went for The Geto Boys and how enamored the west was with Ice T and NWA, I understood that different styles would appeal to different people. I understood that hooks would be the selling point to songs, and why although I had gotten good responses in clubs with my freestyles, I could never get signed unless I started to make songs with hooks and concepts.

I realized at that point that I didn’t have my own style. I was biting from Jaz and now biting from Kane instead of evolving into my own artist. By the time the 14 city tour was over, I was eager to go into the studio and start developing my own sound, start writing my own hooks, and doing my own thing.

Still, those thoughts had to be put on hold when a few days after returning home I got a call from Jaz.

“It’s on” he simply stated when I answered the phone.

“You signed, nigga?” I asked, knowing by the tone of his voice that he was.

“I got the deal earlier today. EMI records baby” Jaz excitedly said.

“I’m happy for you Jaz. You are about to put Marcy on the map”.

“Nah nigga. We are, bring your ass up here”.

Like that, I was Jay’s protege and always with him in the studio as he recorded his debut album. Jaz became somewhat of a legend in Marcy around this time, especially after he got his advance and sported a new car. I rode shotgun, which also brought a buzz to my name. It felt good seeing all of the people who had doubted me and Jaz, I could see on his face that he was equally happy. In fact, this was the happiest time in both of our lives, I was sure of it.

Unlike when I was touring with Kane, surrounded by 10 other hype men, Jaz brought me along as his right hand man. We did interviews with magazines together, concerts as a team, and whenever he made a buck, I made a buck. It was looking as if this rap thing would work out after all, especially when EMI called us into their office to discuss his first music video. Being on the radio was one thing, but recording a video that would be seen on MTV? That was major, big time in the eyes of any black kid from the projects.

We sat down in our flashy clothes, grills shining, and anticipated what the suit wearing execs would say.

“Have you heard DJ Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince’s new album, Jazz?” the exec said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of em”.

“How do you like em?”

“They are aight”.

“They are more than aight in the eyes of the consumers. They are selling triple platinum, unheard of for a hip hop record” the exec said.

“So what are you saying?” Jaz asked.

“We have a vision for how your first video should be. It will capitalize of the success of the Fresh Prince wave”.

Jaz didn’t seem to understand and neither did I. We weren’t on that Fresh Prince shit.

“We want you to craft a pop friendly record to be your first single. Something catchy and light hearted. None of that gangster stuff we are hearing from some other rappers” the exec said.

Jaz tried to argue but to no avail. They controlled whether or not his project would ever see the light of day, they had the leverage in the situation. Later that week, we recorded Hawain Sophie which would be Jaz’s first single for his album.

The video set was something I had never seen before, makeup artist and wardrobes everywhere. A latina sister hooked me up with the clothing as the director of the video explained the concept. It sounded corny to both Jaz and I, but we both went along with it. If it would get us on MTV and sell some records, then it would be worth it. Especially with the better sh*t on the actual album. This is what we thought to justify the corniness of the record and video.

In the months that followed, the single didn’t receive much airplay at all and when we finally did catch the music video on TV, it was late in the morning when everyone was sleep. Instead of getting props for being the first rappers from our projects to get on TV, we were clowned.

“Damn Jay, they had you flying around like spiderman” Ty Ty laughed.

He had returned to New York to spend Christmas with his family.

“Shut the f*ck up nigga” I laughed, trying not to become embarassed.

“I’m just saying man. We were back in D.C. cracking up at the video. Even Taj was laughing”.

“Laugh all you want. But we got paid” I tried to retort.

In reality, I was only halfway telling the truth. We had been paid a small amount for the video, but with no record sales, no airplay, and no radio friendly second single, we had to accept the fact that the record was a flop. Jaz was irate, when the execs told him that they had given up on the album and for him to get back in the studio. Jaz was the first rapper signed to EMI and they tried to make him into Will Smith instead of a street rapper from Marcy, being around that failure was enough to make me not want to be in the rap game anymore. The politics involved was sickening, and with Jaz shelved, I had to find a way to start making money again.

I ended up calling Taj and telling him I wanted back in.

“You sure, young brother? You seemed to be doing good, in Hawaii and all” he chuckled.

“I’m serious Taj. I want back in”.

I hung up, packed, and waited for the holidays to be over so I could roll with Ty Ty back to D.C.

In my down time, I realized how much New York had changed in just a short period of time. There was this new disease killing people all over, the AIDS virus. I had heard only  people got it, but once word got around that Big Ren had been infected, I learned that anyone could catch it. Big Ren died over the holidays and after attending his funeral, I headed to the clinic to see if I had somehow gotten infected while on tour. I was never one to use condoms, especially on the road.

I shitted bricks while I waited for the results at the clinic, which was filled with people getting the same test. Gay men, straight men, black, white, hispanic, teens, everyone was there getting AIDS test. I saw as grown men exited the building crying after getting their results. I wondered if I would cry if it came back positive. I prepared for the worst when they called my name and gave me my results. I couldn’t open it, I tried, but couldn’t do it.

I went to Mickey’s crib, playing with my nephew for a few minutes before telling her I needed her to read something for me.

“What is it?”

“AIDS results” I said, wearily.

“AIDS? Shawn, are you?”

“I don’t know Mickey. I have the results, but I need you to read them for me. I’m scared”.

I played with my nephews hands and saw my life flash before my eyes, from a four year old learning to ride a bike to a 20 year old possibly dying of a sex disease. Mickey fumbled with the papers and took a few moments to read over the test. Her silence was deafening.

“Shawn. You are negative” she calmly said, looking me in my eyes.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and felt my head fall into my hands.

“Shawn, you gotta be more careful” she said.

“I know. I’m done going raw, forever” I responded.

She laughed, “You don’t have to stop going raw. Just be selective with who you sleep with. And honestly, it’s about time you settle down with one woman anyway”.

“One woman? I don’t know about that” I grinned, still trying to comprehend my near death experience.

“Why must guys be so afraid of being committed to one woman? ” she said to herself as much as me.

“Just can’t see myself settling down anytime soon. Yall women are not to be trusted” I said.

She shook her head in disagreement and kissed me as I left, “Just be careful little brother”.

“I will”

Once I returned to D.C., Taj told me he was expanding his enterprise and eventually sent me and Dehaven down to Baltimore. Once we set up shop there, Taj asked me how would I like to be my own leader? It was something I had never experienced before, being a leader of a crew.

“I’m down” I said.

Like that, Taj split me up from Dehaven and the rest of the gang and sent me and Ty Ty down to Virginia where I’d be in charge of a few knuckleheads looking to get into the game. We weren’t slanging major weight, partially because Taj was still testing me out. But we sold enough to become a respected crew in a small part of the state.

In my spare time, I still rapped, even spending a few hundred dollars on recording a few songs in the studio. Jaz would call and tell me to bring my ass back to New York, but until his situation turned around, I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t give up hustling unless I knew rap would be the way to make a living for good. But just in case, I would tell Jaz to keep me updated on what he was doing.

I also started going to the Virginia night clubs just to take in the scene. Hip Hop was really taking off in places other than New York, and it was fun seeing so many different styles on display. I tried to stay off the stage and just vibe but it was calling me. After just a few nights mingling in the clubs, I went on stage for open mic and busted a freestyle to a NWA beat. I was a New York rapper by heart, but I think they appreciated my syrupy flow which was cool for a southern head. I got a round of applause when I was done.

I talked to a few DJs and wannabe record execs but I could sense they had nothing real going on. I took their card and begin to exit when I saw this short, brown skin, sister smiling at me. I knew what time it was.

“Why you smiling?” I grinned.

“A sister can’t smile?” she grinned back.

“With a smile as beautiful as that, I hope you never stop”.

I was using game. She giggled and then changed the subject.

“You know, you have real talent. I like what I heard up there. Real different flow” she said.

“Appreciate it”.

“You not looking to get signed or anything?”

“If the right deal comes along, I wouldn’t turn it down. But right now, I hustle in other areas”.

She checked me over and then rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you are one of them”.

“What you mean, one of them?”

“Drug dealer. Killer of our communities” she responded.

“I hustle bu-”

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Jay-Z” she said before patting me on the shoulder and walking away into the crowd.

I didn’t like how she had dismissed me because of hustling. I didn’t like it one bit, but I ended up getting a few girls numbers before I left so I eventually forgot about it. That was until later that week when I ran into her again at the club.

“What are you a club hopper or something” I asked her, trying to initiate conversation.

“Actually I am a promoter for the club. So being here is my job” she said, dryly.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.

“Sorry, don’t drink”.

“Well can I have a dance?”

“Sorry, don’t dance”.

“Well what do you do?”

“Stay away from drug dealers” she said simply, before leaving me where I stood.

Was this chick serious? Dissing me because I hustled? I had met alot of black women and many dissed me for being ugly, or for being broke, but since I had came up, no one had ever dissed me for hustling. Hell, I always thought the term hustler was a sweet nothing in most girls ear. There was something about this short that intrigued me. Maybe it was the backwards hat on her head, or the southern draw in her voice, or the snappy attitude she got with me when I told her my occupation. Whatever it was, it kicked up a competitive side in me. I wanted to pursue her, get her attention, and have her smile at me the way she did the first time she saw me at the club.

Every night I went to the club and got on stage to perform, getting in battles and doing off the top freestyles, just hoping she would be watching in the crowd. Some nights she wasn’t there, but on the nights she was I made it my business to put together a hot 16 bars. The crowd would go nuts when I said a punchline to embarrass the guy I was battling, but I was really only hoping she was taking notice. I kinda felt silly, having a crush on a girl at this age, but I still placated to it. I was determined to take her out, at least once.

A few girls started chatting with me one night after a performance, but when I saw her walk into the club, I walked away from them in mid sentence. There was something special about this girl. She wasn’t a dime by most peoples standards, short legs, bowlegged, with an overbite, but she was cute as hell with her body language and style of dress. She never dressed feminine like, she wore jeans and tennis shoes, and sometimes had a hat on. I could tell she could handle her own, like a New York girl, and I liked that about her.

I approached and accidentally, on purpose, bumped into her. She turned around apologizing “sorry-”, then she paused when she saw me smirking.

“You” she said, shaking her head.

“You” I said back, in the same dismissing and sarcastic tone.

“What am I going to do with you” she smiled, tilting her head.

“Let me take you out”.

“I don’t date drug dealers” she said.

“Well, I am an entertainer now. A rapper”.

“Why are you trying to play me?” she said.

“I’m not trying to play you, shorty. I promise”.

“My name isn’t Shorty” she grinned, testing me.

“Well you still haven’t given me your name”.

“And why should I?” she asked, obviously enjoying the little cat and mouse game we had going.

“So I won’t have to call you shorty” I laughed.

She laughed too, and after looking around to see who might be watching us, she leaned in to me.

“I have to get to work. But tomorrow I am off. I usually have lunch around 2ish at this local diner not too far from here. It’s called Ritas Diner. Meet me there and we can talk” she said in my ear.

“Can I at least get your name?” I asked, as she turned to leave.

“You already got the date. And you already want more?” she smiled.

“I’m Shawn. That is my government” I responded, not trying to joke with her.

“Well Shawn, I must be getting to work” she said, leaving me in the middle of the club, still without a name.

This girl was slick, but I liked every bit of it.

I had to work the next day, but I told the boys to hold me down as I went to lunch. I was anxious to talk to her, get to know her, and see exactly why she had a distaste for hustlers. I scoped the area and made by way to Ritas to meet her at 2. She hadn’t gotten there yet so I ordered some coffee and a sandwich. I didn’t really like coffee but I ordered it to look somewhat sophisticated.

I waited and waited, before realizing it was now 2:26 and she still hadn’t arrived.

“Waiting for a date?” the waitress asked me as I sat looking at my watch.

“Yeah” I replied, feeling like a lame.

“Want another cup?” she said, looking at my coffee. I had drank all of my coffee, a first and true sign that this girl was doing something to me.

“Yes”.

15 more minutes passed and I realized she wasn’t coming. She had played me. How scandalous of her. Had me out here missing work so I could kick it with her no-showing ass. I should have given up and charged it to the game, that is what I wanted to do. But that night, I was right back at the club looking to confront her for dissing me the way she did. My ego was too bruised to say nothing.

When she saw me at the club, she started smiling which only caused for me to feel angry. I didn’t like feeling as if she was stringing me along. I decided to ignore her, or at least pretend to ignore her, but once she started ignoring me ignoring her, i got even more frustrated. I was about to throw a temper tantrum and she wasn’t even checking for it. I decided to stop with the games and make my way over to the DJ table, where she was chatting with a DJ.

I made my presence known by tapping her on the shoulder.

She turned around and her face lit up “Oh, Hi Shawn. How are you doing this evening?” she grinned.

“That was f*cked up, Shorty” I responded, as the DJ looked on.

“I don’t know what you are speaking of” she smirked, loving to see my in a compromising situation.

“Am I that much of a bad guy, where you’d play me without knowing me?” I asked.

Her smile softened a bit when she saw how serious I was.

“I’ll be back” she whispered to the DJ before turning her attention back to me.

“Lets walk” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me past the dance floor and outside of the club.

She nodded to the bouncer who signaled that he had her back just in case anything violent came forth. She walked away from the door and by a lamp post and leaned against it.

“I’m surprised you actually showed up” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I have”

“Thought you might be busy. I mean, drug dealers work 24/7 right?”

“What is it with you and drug dealers? Why the hate?”

She was no longer smiling, maybe I would finally get a serious response from her.

“You guys destroy our neighborhoods. You don’t get that? I love Hip Hop so much because it’s a positive way for kids to express themselves. But as much as I love hip hop is as much as I hate drugs. I think you are a talented brother, as far as music. But I can’t respect someone that kills his community”.

“You ever stop to think that we were forced into this life?” I asked.

“That’s a sorry ass excuse, Shawn” she said, emphasizing my name.

“You don’t know my life, shorty. And to judge me off the strength of your assumptions is bullshit. I grew up in Marcy projects. Roaches, rats, and drugs. The only way out was the drug game. I became a product of my environment, which is the same reason I found hip hop as a way to escape. But you know what? If you can’t respect that, then your whole perspective is wack”.

She looked at me with her hand on her hip and studied me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking but I knew she was analyzing my words and maybe who I was for the first time.

“Look, I gotta get back inside. And although I don’t approve of your life, I have to admit that you are right. It’s wrong for me to judge you without knowing you” she said.

“So why not even try to get to know me? I’m down to getting to know you. No strings attached” I said.

She looked over at the bouncer who was watching us closely, then she looked back at me and tilted her head.

“I might regret this” she laughed to herself, “I get off in an hour. Want to go for an early breakfast” she said.

“Will you actually be there this time?” I asked.

“You have my word” she smirked.

I didn’t quite know how to read her but I accepted. I went back in the club, got a few drinks, danced with a few ladies, and the club closed. I waited outside for her, still not even knowing her name, and smiled when I saw her exiting with that backwards hat on her head.

“Damn, I was going to try and ditch you” she smiled.

“I believe you” I smiled back.

She told me to follow her as we got into our cars and drove into the early morning night to a 24 hour breakfast spot. I was kind of tired, having not slept for more than a few hours for days, but I was fighting the sleep now that I had my date with this intriguing woman. We were seated in a booth and stared at each other for a few moments, not saying anything.

“So am I ever going to get your name?” I asked, breaking the tension.

“Maybe” she smirked, stretching the word.

“You are something else” I grinned.

I liked the way she made me chase after her, just for her damn name. I was determined to pry it out of her before our little date was over.

“It’s different seeing you in the light. It’s so dark in the clubs, can’t really see your eyes” she said.

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good. You have soft eyes” she answered.

“It could just be that I am sleepy” I laughed.

“Oh so you gon fall sleep on me? Just like a nigga”.

“Why you calling me a nigga? I’m a strong, black brother” I said, trying to poke fun at her.

She tilted her head and grinned, “You right. I shouldn’t call you that”.

“I’m still wondering when I get to find out what to call you” I said, “I mean I gave you my government name and everything”.

The waitress came to take our order.

We ordered, just simple breakfast food like eggs and bacon, and resumed our conversation about nothing in particular, until she stopped beating around the bush.

“So why were you so persistent with trying to holla at me?”

“I dont know honestly. I just like you. You seem different from the girls I am use to meeting”.

“How?”

“Well, you like hip hop”.

“Alot of girls like hip hop”.

“No I mean you like hip hop. I see you in the club bobbing your head and rapping every lyric to the records”.

“Well, yeah. It is one of my passions in life”.

“See? I like that”.

She took a bite out of her bacon and tilted her head. She did this alot and it was cute as hell.

“So what else?” she said, drinking her orange juice.

“The way you dress” I laughed.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Oh nothing. You dress like you ain’t trying to show off your body. I like that”

“I don’t believe that. I seen you at the club all up in those girls faces with the tight red dresses, their titties all in your face” she rolled her eyes.

“But you didn’t see me chasing after them trying to get their name, either” i retorted.

She looked down at her food.

“So wait? You were actually paying attention to me in the club?” I laughed.

She put her hand over her mouth to try to hide her smile. I loved seeing her blush.

“I’ve noticed you” she said simply.

“Then why have you played so hard to get?”

“I don’t like drug dealers, Shawn. Got out of a long term relationship with one not too long ago. It’s nothing I can ever see myself doing again”.

“What about a drug dealer turned rapper?”

“I’m not looking for a relationship right now, period. Too busy to be dealing with you men folk” she said.

“So you invited me here, just to tell me that?”

“And to get something to eat. I was starving” she grinned.

I paid for the meal and she tipped, saying she was an independent gal, and we made our way to our cars. As much as she led on like she wasn’t feeling us, I could tell she was. I could tell because her body language suggested it. She didn’t get in the car or even make a move to the car, she leaned against it and smiled as we continued to chit chat, much longer than the normal “just to be nice” small talk people usually made before leaving.

“Do you…have to…you know, work tomorrow” she asked.

“As in hustle?”

She rolled her eyes, “whatever yall call it”.

“I do, why?”

“Will I see you at the club tomorrow night?”

“Do you want to?”

“I’d like to, actually”.

I leaned in to her and gave her a hug, a nice warm long hug. Her short frame felt good in my arms, but she soon backed off.

“Gotta run, Jay-Z” she said in her business like voice, before cranking up and leaving me waving.

I drove home smiling.

The next night I went to the club with Ty Ty, and sat VIP. A few cats recognized me from the Hawaiian Sophie video and gave me dap but I couldn’t figure out if it was disingenuous or not. I hated that the record was my claim to fame, especially since I felt I had rhymes on top of rhymes. Still, I sucked all of it in when I saw shorty conversing with a few of the rappers on stage. She got on stage and introduced them, commanding the crowd as if she had been doing it for years. I wondered if she had ever tried a career of rapping before. I wondered a lot of things about her and the only way to find out would be to approach her.

I left Ty Ty, who was chatting it up with a tight dress wearing chick, and made my way over to the stage.

“You battling tonight?” she asked when she saw me.

“Nah, I just want to enjoy myself”.

“Aww thats too bad. Prize is 1 grand”.

“I already made one grand today” I smirked.

I realized I had said the wrong thing as she rolled her eyes and begin walking away.

“Shorty, I am just joking with you. I made 2 grand” I laughed, hoping she would find humor in my truthful joke.

“You are too much” she said, rolling her eyes again but smiling this time.

“You want to hang out, tonight?” I asked.

“No”.

Damn, she was blunt as hell. She grinned, “You are one persistent ass brother. I get off at 2, we can chat if you want” she said before shaking her head and walking into the crowd.

It was around half an hour before close, but Ty was ready to go. He had a chick that was ready to f*ck, only problem was I was still waiting for shorty to get off from work. I knew I was testing my luck, but I figured I’d give it my best shot and see what happened.

“Go ahead Ty, I’ll find a way home” I said.

I could tell Ty was confused but he was thinking with the wrong head so he simply gave me pound and left to go get his nut off. I patiently waited for the club to close and waited outside for shorty. She came out smiling and shaking her head when she saw me waiting.

“Why am I not surprised” she grinned, approaching me.

“Hey now. You are the one that told me we could hang out”.

“I had to tell you something. Otherwise you’d be following me all night” she said.

“Well, my ride left me. So I don’t have a ride home, could you take me?” I said, in a soft puppy dog tone.

She looked around at the emptying parking lot and tilted her head.

“Just put me on the spot, why don’t you” she sighed.

“i could just walk the 10 miles back home” I said, looking at the highway.

“For pulling this stunt. I should make you” she laughed.

Her laugh was a good sign in my head, at least she wasn’t mad.

“Boy, come on” she shook her head, leading me to her car.

When she cranked up the car, LL Cool J‘s I Need Love was playing in the stereo. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw her attempt to change it to the radio.

“Nah don’t try and change it. Don’t be shame” I laughed.

She blushed and turned the wheel to head into the street.

“I thought you weren’t looking for a relationship?” I asked.

“Just because I like this song doesn’t mean I want a man” she said.

“Sheit, this song screams that you want a man” I grinned.

“Where do you live?” she said, trying to change the subject.

I told her the address of the apartment Taj had set us up with. She tilted her head and made a noise.

“You don’t stay far from me” she said.

“Can I see where you stay?” I said, pressing my luck.

She eyed me hard, and I feared she’d go off from my request. But she didn’t respond, just kept driving as the music kept playing. I looked out the window and tried to relax, I had butterflies racing sitting in her car. I couldn’t explain why, but I really liked her and I didn’t even know her name.

“Just for a few minutes” she ended up saying, after we had nearly driven 5 or 6 blocks.

We pulled up to an apartment complex that was sure enough only a few minutes from where Ty and I stayed. She turned off the car and looked over at me, sighing to herself before getting out. I followed, cracking my knuckles to help relieve the tension. I couldn’t believe she was actually inviting me inside of her home. It seemed out of character for her, even though I barely knew her.

A few dogs barked as we made our way across the lawn and to her front door, she quickly unlocked it and led me inside. I stood at the door while she cut on a lamp that was near and then kicked off her shoes and socks. She went over to her answering machine and checked her messages. I was surprised that she would check them with me standing there, but she did. The first was a message from her mother, telling her to pick up her medicine and the second was from the owner of the club she worked at. The third message was simply a click.

“Damn” she said, apparently not hearing what she wanted.

“What?” I said, feeling awkward standing at the door.

“I was hoping the employer had called me back with a job offer” she said.

“What employer?”

“Social work place. I’m trying to work with a group of underprivileged girls” she said.

For the first time I wondered what else she did besides work at the club.

“Did you go to school?”

“Some, but I dropped out. Worst decision of my life” she said.

“Why did you drop out?”

“Decided to follow my ex boyfriend who was making alot of money selling crack” she said, staring directly into my eyes.

I felt the pain in her voice and saw the hurt in her eyes. She broke our gaze and went into the kitchen, turning on a light and opening up the fridge.

“Want something to drink? A soda or koolaid or something?”

“What kind of Koolaid?”

“Red” she grinned.

“I’ll take some”.

She poured me a glass and met me back in the front of her apartment.

“You don’t have to just stand there, you can sit down” she said, apparently annoyed that I was just standing at the front door.

I didn’t quite know how to react, partially because she said I could stay for a few minutes. I didn’t know to what extent her hospitality would go. She motioned for me to sit next to her on her sofa and I did. When I saw her looking relaxed, taking off her hat, shoes, socks, and sitting indian style on the sofa I figured I could relax a little. I leaned back and sipped the Koolaid and looked around. It was a one bedroom apartment, really cozy but definitely a start up place.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“24″ she replied, “You?”

“22″.

“Young one I see” she laughed.

“Don’t call me that”.

“Call you what?”

“Young one. An ex of mine called me that” I replied, seriously.

“Did you love her?” she asked, staring at me.

“I did”.

“She broke your heart?”

“I guess you could say that” I responded, not really feeling all of her questions.

“Broken hearts are hard to mend” she sighed, presumably speaking to herself as much as she was to me.

When we were done with our Koolaid, we stared off into the hallway. The club scene was something we both were use to, and the little date at the diner wasn’t too awkward because it was in public, but being in the privacy of her home was intimate and we both didn’t know how to converse with such tension in the air. I figured words would only block what we really wanted to do, so I decided they weren’t needed. I leaned in to her and kissed her softly, making sure she would be receptive to my first move.

She paused for a second but begin kissing back which told me all I needed to know. I put my arms on her waist and begin pecking her lips sensually, before our kiss turned more aggressive when she stuck her tongue in my mouth. I had finally succeeded in getting her to give in to me, but something still bothered me. Why was she suddenly doing this? How was it possible that we were kissing passionately on her couch yet I still felt she was hiding herself from me? I continued relishing the taste of her lips as I pondered these thoughts. She eventually pulled back and begin rubbing my crotch area.

“You got a condom?” she asked, kissing me on my neck.

Woah, we were not going to f*ck right here? Something didn’t feel quite right about what we were doing and I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“You sure you want to do that?” I asked as she kissed my neck and massaged my arms with hers.

“I haven’t had anyone in so long. I need it” she said as she kissed.

I then realized why I wasn’t feeling the situation. She was still heart broken over her ex. She wanted strictly sex from me, temporary pleasure from a broken heart. I knew the feeling all too well because I had done the same thing after my heart break. As she kissed, and I held her in my arms, I didn’t want to be that to her. I didn’t want to simply be some feel better sex or a casual one night stand. I really liked her and I wanted her to know that. I grabbed her hand and stopped her from kissing me.

“Wait” I said abruptly.

“You don’t have a condom?” she asked.

“No, I do”.

“Then wassup?” she asked, searching for my thoughts in my eyes.

“I don’t want to do this” I blurted out, before realizing how insensitive it sounded.

“No, I mean I do want to do this. Bad. But I don’t want to in this situation. Not now, it’s not right” I tried to clarify.

“You don’t have casual sex?” she asked.

“Nah, I do. But not with girls I actually like” I said.

She seemed to be taken back by this, as if I was saying something she had not been expecting. She moved back and looked at me. I eyed her just as hard.

“What are you saying, Shawn?”

“I really like you. And I don’t want to be used just for sex to get over your ex” I said.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, a moment that seemed like an eternity. Instead, she looked at the empty hallway and bit her lip. She seemed to be deep in through. I decided to see if she was ok.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. That’s the part that is scary” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Shawn, I haven’t had sex in over a year. I finally pick someone and he turns out to be a drug dealer, the thing I hate the most. I kinda hate myself for falling for one of you yet again. But for you to turn me down like that, I don’t know. It’s humbling. I want to be mad because I am sexually frustrated but I can’t be mad at you for that” she sighed.

“Do you think you picked me only because I am a drug dealer?” I asked.

She looked at me to imply honest words were about to come.

“Shawn, no, not at all. I picked you because, for better or worst, I think I like you too. Against my better judgment” she said.

“Don’t judge yourself for who you like, shorty. “

She smiled at me as a tear begin to develop in her eye. “It’s Stephanie, Shawn, not shorty. But everyone calls me Fannie”.

I felt validated once she finally told me her name. It was a sign of trust and I appreciated her for it. After a few moments of tension ridden talking we decided we had to get out of there before we ripped off each others clothes and resumed where we had stopped. She drove me home and we kissed, a long and hard, kiss inside the car before I stepped out. I was halfway hating myself for stopping the sex that she was willing to give me. I had a chance to relieve the built up stress that she had, with some great sex. But I think I gained something even more valuable in the process of turning it down. I gained a friend, and our friendship would go well beyond sex.

1990

The next few months with Fannie changed my life, for the better. I’d had short term relationships with other girls but never had I been with a woman that I felt so comfortable with. We could have great conversations about nothing and she was always challenging the way that I thought and spoke. She didn’t like that I was still hustling but the more we talked, the more I didn’t like that I was hustling. I was gaining perspective while we hung out, and this was without any sex involved.

After the night where I turned her down, we decided it would be best to stay friends before moving into a physical relationship and as different as that was for me, I was cool with it. She’d show me around the city, we’d listen to the radio and critique what was played, and we had some fierce chess matches. She invited me over to her apartment one night so we could watch movies, when I got there she had a gift for me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Open it and find out, smart one” she grinned.

It was wrapped in brown paper, looked like it could be a book. Oh goody, a book, I thought. Still, I ripped the paper and smiled once I saw pages. I looked over at her and chuckled and then finishing ripping the paper.

“Manchild in the Promiseland?” I said, reading the familiar title.

“You’ve heard of it?” she asked.

“My teacher gave this to me for a gift a long time ago” I said, reminiscing.

“Damn, I read it some years back and thought it would be a good read for you”.

“Well I never actually read it before. I think I just put it in my dresser.”

“Well I’d like for you to read it, Shawn. It’s a great book. It helps me to accept your lifestyle, also”.

After reading the back of the book I put it aside and laid back. Fannie went into the kitchen to get the popcorn from the microwave and returned to the living room, sitting next to me.

“What are we watching?” I asked.

“I like horror movies. So I have in Evil Dead” she grinned.

“Evil Dead? Damn”.

She laughed, “But I will say I don’t like to watch them by myself. I need a cuddle buddy”.

“Well bring your small ass over here then” I said, holding my arms out.

She smiled softly and moved closer to me, lying on my chest with the bowl of popcorn. For being so small and petite, she could eat; she was throwing handfuls of popcorn in her mouth by the second. I was more intrigued by that than the movie initially. She saw me looking and rolled her eyes, picking her teeth and smacking her gums trying to get the shells out of her mouth. I threw a handful of popcorn in my mouth and laughed.

We watched the movie mostly in silence, except for the soft crunch of the popcorn, and eventually she decided to get even more comfortable by moving even closer to me, with her back inside my crotch. I put my arms around her stomach as I moved her up and down by breathing. It was as intimate as we had been since the night we kissed. We knew what we were doing; we know that although good friends, we were moving closer to becoming lovers. And when I kissed her forehead in the middle of the movie, we took the steps to consummate that relationship.

She turned her head and met my lips, sucking on my bottom lip with her eyes closed.

“Buttery lips” she grinned as she let go.

“Your breath ain’t all that right now either” I grinned back.

She laughed to herself and kissed me again, this time an open mouth kiss. Soon, she turned all the way around and climbed on top of me, kissing me as I held her butt in my hands. I wanted her so bad, I had never wanted something more than I wanted Fannie at that moment. When she took off her shirt, revealing her D cups in a black bra, I thanked God for such an amazing creation.

I tugged at the back of her bra until the bra unbuckled and her rather larger breast for such a small frame fell out. Her nipples were plump, standing on top of dark round areolas.  She blushed as my eyes took in the sight of them, before I buried my face in her chest, trying my best to take one fully in my mouth, but failing. She moaned softly as I sucked and kissed her breast, still holding her by her lower back. Screaming came from the TV, but we ignored it, as the atmosphere was set for our first time.

I stood up with her in my hands, smiling to myself at how light she was. Her tits were probably half of her weight, I thought as I softly placed her on the sofa. She sat up and begins removing my belt buckle as I took off my shirt and tank top. When I had pulled the tank top over my head, my pants had dropped to my knees. She looked up at me with shy and timid eyes. She was such a confident and aggressive woman outside of the bedroom but as we begin to sleep with each other, I could tell she was still shy in this area. I slowly pulled down my boxers, very slowly, so she could anticipate the sight of my penis.

What she saw was a rock hard penis, staring her directly in the face, slightly curving to the left. I saw her swallow when she saw it, possibly because her mouth was watering. I loved the look on a womans face when she saw the size of it. But seeing Fannie react to it was a little different. I was hoping I wasn’t too big for her to enjoy.

“Wow” she said, as I looked down at her.

“You ok?” I asked.

She took a deep breath and looked back up at me. I saw the reserve in her eyes but also a level of excitement. She leaned into my waist and kissed the tip of my penis, before licking around the head. I closed my eyes and tried to remain standing, her warm tongue was already doing a number on me. She grabbed my dick with her hands and slowly rubbed it while putting the head in her mouth and sucking on it.

After a quick taste, she let one of her hands go and started taking in the dick in her mouth, sucking it slowly. I felt some of her teeth, which signaled to me that she wasn’t a pro at this, but I still appreciated her willingness to try. She sucked sensually and softly for another few minutes before stopping and staring up at me for approval. I smiled down at her to let her know I loved it.

I nudged her back on the couch and leaned down on the floor. The coffee table next to the sofa was in the way so I scooted it back so I could sit on my knees and not be cramped. I helped to slide her shorts off which revealed black panties. The smell of her womanhood soon begin filling the room, a sexy wet smell of juice, the aroma of sex was making me thirsty for her. She spread her legs in the air and sat up, so I could easily slide her panties off. Her vagina was covered in patches of trimmed hair, and her clit was already ready to be touched.

I leaned in and licked her softly, tasting, and then swallowing the pre-lubrication that her body was emitting. She grabbed my head as I ate her out with no qualms. I wasn’t someone that gave head to too many girls, and usually when I did I only did it to be nice. But with Fannie, I did it because I wanted to. I wanted her to feel good and be fulfilled, especially after not having sex for a year. I wanted this to be a mind blowing moment in her life. So I ate her out longer than I had ever eaten a girl out before.

I was still licking when she stopped me and sat up, leaning over to the floor and reaching for my pants. She reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, obviously going for my condoms.

“I need to fill you inside of me, right now” she demanded.

Who would I be to turn her down? I grabbed the condom and ripped it open swiftly, rolling the condom down quickly as she lay back and waited impatiently. I could sense the impatience in her eyes; she wanted this as bad as I did. I pushed back her legs and moved into position, placing my dick on top of her vagina to tease her.

“Put it in” she moaned in frustration, smiling even though she didn’t want to.

I loved seeing her plead for it. It was a big difference from how hard she was to get only months prior, when I was chasing her in the club. I decided to put her out of her misery by sliding inside of her wetness gently. I wanted to be gentle because I didn’t know how tight she was, I wouldn’t want to hurt her. Even still, she moaned loudly because of the size of it, her eyes wide open as she looked down at her small vagina being penetrated by a large penis.

“You ok?” I asked, making sure she was ready for this to get more aggressive.

She nodded her head yes with her mouth still open, getting use to the mix of pain and pleasure. Shit, if I didn’t know any better I would have sworn she was a virgin, or maybe her ex just never hit it right. Either way, I was determined to be the most memorable sexual encounter she would ever have. I palmed one of her breast as I pushed even more of myself inside of her, thrusting with force but in slow succession.

Her moans turned into screams as I awakend her sleeping beauty, f*cking her in a way that she had never had before. She scratched my back hard; leaving marks on my back as I put a dent into her thoughts of what sex could be like.

“I…I’m bout to CUM!” she screamed which was all I needed to hear. I started thrusting faster and faster as she squeezed me with her legs thrusting her hips as we worked together in bringing forth that orgasm. When it hit, it hit hard, moving the sofa and knocking over the lamp that sat next to it on a table stand. She didn’t care, she kept moving herself into me as I thrust myself through her first orgasm.

It wouldn’t be the only one she would experience that night as we moved to the floor and I hit her doggystyle, smacking her ass and pulling her hair until she was cumming again. I had to chuckle to myself, seeing how backed up she actually was. She was cuming in minutes, leaving a wet mess all over her floor as she lost control of her voice box and screamed for dear heaven. She was on her way to her third orgasm as she rode on top of me when I finally came, squeezing her breast as she bounced.

I came and felt the tingle of my penis, but she kept bouncing, refusing to stop until she had her third orgasm in a very short amount of time. I moaned loudly as she came again because I was still sensitive from my orgasm, and as she caught her breath she collapsed on top of me. We were in the middle of her floor, sweating in our own juices, halfway between sleep and ecstasy. We fell asleep in this position, my penis still deep inside of her.

The next morning she was full of smiles and giggles, she couldn’t stop giggling.

“Damn, you have been giggling all morning” I said, brushing my teeth with her toothbrush.

“You just don’t know, boy” she said shaking her head.

I spit the flem in the sink and rinsed my mouth, meeting her in the hallway. I grabbed her by the waist and bent down to kiss her. She took in my minty breath and smiled yet again.

“You know, I really don’t like you” she sighed.

“Why is that?” I smiled.

“Because” she said, sounding like a child. We both laughed.

“Get out and take your book” she said, giving me my stuff and motioning me towards the door.

“Damn so it’s like that?”

“Yes” she said, still smiling.

“Well can I see you tonight?”

She tilted her head and pretended to ponder my request. After seeing me sweat a bit, she bit her lip.

“Yea, I guess we can kick it again tonight”.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and I was out to meet up with the boys to make that money. In my down time, I started reading the book she had given to me. It started off slow, the protagonist getting shot when he was just a kid. But the more I read, the more I became wrapped up in the character that reminded me of myself, in many ways.

I couldn’t believe how much of the story was related to my story, from running with a crew, to selling drugs, to getting into trouble. I realized that the drug problem in Harlem in the 60’s was almost as bad as the crack era was now.

“The hell you reading?” Emery said.

I kept my eyes in the book and didn’t reply.

“Manchild in the Promiseland? Is that some back to Africa shit or something?” he said when he saw the title

“Nah man. It’s an autobiography. It’s a good read” I said simply, not taking my eyes of the book.

A fiend came and Emery gave him the drugs.

It was crazy reading about how someone that was so bad could turn out so legit. The protagonist in the story was a typical low life in his teen years but as he grew older he went to school and actually turned his life around. I had valued being a hustler so much, that I rarely thought about hustlers becoming legit tax payers once they grew older. Maybe this was what Fannie was trying to tell me, by giving this book to me.

When I finished reading it later that night, I called Fannie and told her I had been doing a lot of thinking.

“About what, huh?” she asked.

“Changing my life”.

“This sounds deep” she said.

We talked for the next hour about me possibly leaving the game for good, this time. I had spent nearly a decade pursuing this life of crime and I still wasn’t happy or satisfied with life. She seemed impressed by my words but was still reserved about becoming too excited.

“Are you only saying all of this, for me Shawn?”

“No. This would be a decision I would be making for me” I responded.

“You still want to come over?” she asked.

I did and I made the short drive to her apartment where she met me wearing a tshirt and panties. We could have talked first, but with it being so late, the first things on our mind was another session of great sex. We f*cked in her bed this time, soft music playing in the background as we wrestled in the sheets. After we were done, we had pillow talk, discussing if I would truly be ready to leave the game.

Even though it was late, we weren’t sleepy, and it resulted in her popping in a Bonnie and Clyde video.

“You think we could go on a robbing spree” she laughed as we watched.

“Sure, you know how to work a gun?” I asked.

“My ex was a drug dealer, Shawn. What do you think?”

I looked over at her petite ass and laughed.

“Yeah right”.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Nah”

She reached over me and picked up my gun that was laying on her night stand. I tried to take it from her but she snatched her arms away.

“Nah, let me see that clip” she said.

“Girl, stop playing before you hurt someone”.

“No, I am going to show you that I know what I am talking about.”

I handed her the clip and she loaded the gun and cocked it. She grinned evily as she held the gun in her hands, something that scared me. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as I wanted to believe. Apparently her ex had taught her well. I unloaded the gun and put it in it’s spot, kissing her as we held each other. Her phone started ringing as we were drifting off to sleep.

“Who is calling you at 3 in the morning?” I asked.

She shook her head and reached over for the phone, “Hello” she said in an annoyed tone.

“Stop calling me, Antoine” she screamed before slamming the phone down.

Who the hell was Antoine? Apparently she was reading my thoughts.

“Antoine is the ex I have been talking about. He can’t take no for an answer” she said.

“He still trying to get with you?”

“Yes. He calls all times of the night and then doesn’t say anything”.

“You want me to handle that?” I asked.

She stared at me and immediately shook her head, “Shawn, no. I don’t want any drama”.

We ended up lying back in bed and the phone ring again, she let it ring. She ended up falling asleep while I sat up thinking about this dude and if we’d end up having to squabble over her. Any other girl, I wouldn’t be willing to fight for, but as I kissed her forehead and held her close, I realized I’d go to war over her.

It came to a head a couple of weeks later when Fannie and I were playing a game of chess; someone was baming on her door.

“Fannie, open up” the voice outside yelled.

She shook her head when she heard his voice, “Go away Antoine” she screamed.

I had grown tired of the dude calling and hanging up, but this was crossing the line. I sat up, ready to stop this dude from bothering her.

“Shawn, please, no” she said, but I ignored her.

I went to the door and swung it open. There her ex stood, a man my height with a tear drop tattoo on his face with his shirt off. She ran over to me and tried to pull me back inside but it was too late for that. I couldn’t back down.

“Look bruh. She ain’t feeling you. Leave her alone” I barked.

He looked surprised to see me, so surprised that he started laughing after I finished my statement.

“Fannie who is this clown? You f*cking him? You f*cking this man, Fannie? What about us, huh?” he yelled.

I stepped up in his face to let him know I was serious. To get to her, he’d have to go though me.

“I suggest you get the f*ck out of my face, homeboy” he warned.

I remained in his face, calling his bluff and staring into his cold dark eyes. I had to admit, I was a bit afraid of what could happen. People die over jealousy. As we eyed each other, I heard her telling us both to stop being childish. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing childish about protecting her.

A thought then hit me. What if she and this guy were still messing around? What if she had lied to me?  I had believed everything she had told me, indiscriminately matter of fact. Maybe I was too naïve to believe her. What if I was fighting for a woman who didn’t want to be fought for? I had heard of girls using guys to make their boyfriends jealous, but Fannie couldn’t be doing that to me, could she?

Antoine looked at me and then backed up, “You are a dead man” he said before walking away to his car. I stood at the door with my hand on my waist ready to draw if he came back. He didn’t, he cranked up his car and sped off. Our standoff was over, at least for the time being.

When we went back inside, neither of us spoke. I was angry, letting my thoughts get the best of me. I wouldn’t be able to take being done wrong by yet another woman. I just couldn’t take it. I stared at her as we tried to play chess again, and I eventually broke the silence.

“Do you still f*ck with that nigga?”

“No” she responded immediately.

“Fannie I am serious. If you are, I need to know”.

“Shawn, no. You are the only guy I am involved with. I swear”.

I tried to believe her, but I didn’t quite believe her. I ended up letting her win the game and going home. I needed to be alone. I turned on the TV and saw a news special report.

“Ronald Watkins. A former heavyweight boxer and known as the Drug Dealer Butter has been arrested after a tip” the lady on the news said.

I couldn’t believe it, Butter had been knocked. I called Emery who told me that Taj had set the whole thing up. I was amazed; Taj had managed to kill two birds with one stone. Satisfy the cops he had on salary that needed some type of arrest to impress the city and eliminated our main competition without one bullet being fired. It was ingenious.

Dehaven was in Baltimore but he has also heard the report and he called me to talk about it.

“Taj is a bad man” I said.

“He ain’t special. I have set niggas up to get what I wanted” he responded.

What was Dehaven talking about now?

“What you mean?”

“Remember when Shaw was thieving from our stash? Well, that was all my doing’ he laughed, “I just wanted to f*ck his b*tch”.

I sat and listened to Dehaven laugh about the incident that happened way back when. It had been six years, but I was still angry over hearing his admission. I was disgusted by it. I didn’t want to be around people like this, who could set you up. I didn’t want to bring Fannie around it; I didn’t want to bring her around any of my boys. I had been thinking about getting out of the game, but hearing Dehavens evil laugh over the phone was the straw that broke the camels back. I was done. I just had to figure out a way to tell Taj

Word was going around that Antoine was looking for me and was going to kill me to get me out of the picture with Fannie, but I was waiting for him with my heat. I got a call from Fannie, who seemed to be in tears.

“Shawn, I don’t think we can see each other anymore” she sobbed.

“Why?”

“Antoine” she said simply.

“Fannie, I’m not afraid of that nigga”.

“I know, Shawn. But we have talked about you getting out of the game. I don’t want you to do something that would put you in prison. So it would be best if we just left things alone” she said.

“Do you want to stop seeing me, Fannie?”

“No. But I don’t want to see you hurt or locked up either.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes”

‘Then let’s just get out of here. Let’s just go” I said.

“What do you mean, just go?”

“I’m getting out of here for good. I’m going back to New York. I want you to come with me” I said, wondering how she’d react to such a request.

All I heard was her hard breathing as she pondered my words.

“Ok” was all she said , breaking the silence.

“Ok what?”

“I’ll go with you”.

When I hung up with her I called Taj and told him my thoughts, about leaving the game for good. He had allowed me back in after the first time I left, but I knew him allowing me to leave a second time would cost me. He didn’t want to discuss too much over the phone so he met me the next day in a park.

“You are one of my leaders out here in Virginia” he said.

“I know Taj. But this ain’t me right now. I want to pursue my rap career” I responded.

He looked me over and saw how serious I was. I was still nervous because he seemed disappointed.

“If you leave this time, young brother. There is no coming back” he warned.

“I understand.”

“I can’t just let you walk without reimbursing me. I’ll be losing income by just letting you walk” he said.

“I understand”.

“Return 20 G’s to me and you are free to go” he said bluntly.

I cringed, realizing how high the price would be. That would be most of my savings and then some, but to leave the game and be with Fannie in peace, I’d have to swallow my pride and charge it to the game. That Friday I paid Tone the 20 Gs and I was let go from my position. I was a free man again.

I used a little of the money I had remaining to break Fannie’s lease with her landlord and after that I was broke. After telling Ty Ty I was done with the game, he called up Taj and told him he’d roll with me. I couldn’t understand why Ty was following me instead of doing his own thing.

“Ty, you need to stay here and make this money” I said.

“Jay, I believe you have what it takes to do the rap thing. I’m with you all the way” he responded.

“You know it’s a good chance, I will flop right? I mean, you remember Hawaiian Sophie?”

He laughed, “We are in this together, fam” he said.

Ty Ty paid Taj and he was freed from his position. We were two broke niggas with a longshot of a dream to make it in the rap game. But with Fannie at my side, I felt like the dream would be worth chasing. My credit was non-existent and I had long ago sold my cars so Fannie helped me to lease the car that we would ride back to New York.

It was time to start a new life back in my old spot.

1991-1992

When I got back to New York, I went all in with the rap shit. Spending all of my spare money on studio time and recording demos. After spending so much time making runs around New York in clubs and studios I ended up meeting a lot of up and coming emcees. I met Kool G Rap at a club in Brooklyn and we exchanged numbers, saying he’d collab with me. Around this same time span I met Big L, Nas, AZ, and Rakim, but I was still mostly performing with Jaz-O.

We recorded a lot of demos and shopped them around the label scene but we kept getting turned down. The execs weren’t feeling our style of music, especially since Death Row and the G-Funk era was kicking off. The music mostly being played out of New York was stuff like A Tribe Called Quest. It was hell trying to get execs and even radio stations to see our vision for what kind of music we wanted to make.

I got involved with a small time group called Original Flavor, and we had some clout in the local clubs, but our records never took off. I’d come home to Fannie after being rejected by yet another label and she’d try to comfort me. We were living in a small apartment, barely making ends meet by what I was making in the clubs and what she was doing with social work.

Since I had always been with other rappers, I was always splitting money. Splitting a grand between two and three niggas, sometimes more if we had a promoter was like working minimum wage. Still, I had to pay for studio time and stay looking fresh so I didn’t come off as a bum rapper, so Fannie ended up paying most of our bills. I could tell it was starting to take its toll on her emotionally but she always remained loyal. She never mentioned money or our lack of it, she just tired to encourage me.

“Our time will come baby” she’d say as she lay in my arms.

I’d kiss her on the forehead and we’d make love, but inside I was dying. I knew how fast the money could come if I was pushing drugs but I also knew how hurt she’d be if I resorted back to that life. She would rather us struggle and live legit than us have a lot of money and be in that life.

To keep my mind off the problems at home and try to market myself, Ty Ty and I basically lived in the clubs, promoting my music and name. I battled any chance I could get, winning some and losing some, but always coming hard. At one point, I even got the chance to battle my idol LL Cool J. He didn’t even know who I was, but after I spit my first verse I could tell he was impressed.

He spit one hard at me and the crowd went crazy. They thought I was finished, but I came back, speeding up my flow and dissing him for his I Need Love song. I wasn’t sure if my verse was enough to beat him, but the crowd decided for me. They respected the fight a relatively unknown rapper had against a hip hop legend like LL. He smiled when the battle host said that I had won and gave me pound, “Good battle, baby” he whispered as we embraced.

That night, I got a lot of attention from people in the music biz as well as the ladies. I had remained faithful to Fannie since we had moved to New York, but after a couple of drinks and a few joints, I found myself in the bathroom with two twin sisters who were giving me head. I leaned against the stall and relieved my stress at the expense of their mouth muscles and the trust I had with Fannie.

After that night, f*cking club rats became normal for me. I always would justify it to myself that I did it because that is what rappers did. I would tell myself that in the club, I was Jay-Z and at home I was Shawn. Usually, when I’d come home from the club I’d be anxious to make love to Fannie. But after f*cking hoes at the club, I’d come home and collapse face first in the bed, with my clothes still on.

With me working at night and her working in the day time, we rarely had much time to spend together, and even less time to be intimate. I think she started to catch on, that if I wasn’t having sex with her, I had to be having sex with someone.

“Shawn, are you messing around on me?” she asked while we lay in bed.

My eyes remained closed as I lied, “No”.

I could tell she didn’t believe me because she turned her back to me and snatched the covers over her body. I wanted to tell her the truth and comfort her, but I was too tired to do anything. I didn’t have the energy to apologize.

A few weeks later at a club, I was chatting it up with DJ Clark Kent who was happy I had gave up the game and was pursing rap full time. B-High was also there, echoing what Kent was saying.

“I was telling Jay for the longest to give up that life. He has the talent to make it doing this” he said.

After a few drinks, some cornball looking nigga walked up to the table and gave Kent a pound. Kent looked at me looking at the guy and I saw a lightbulb go off in his head.

“Yo Jay. This is my man Dame Dash. Dash, this is Jay-Z” he said, introducing us.

I gave Dash a pound and he sat down at the table with us. Dame was a talkative mofo, telling a lot of corny jokes, but he was a funny dude. Easy to chat with, at least in the club atmosphere, and strangely intelligent. He ended up saying how he was looking for talent to manage, and Kent gave me a knowing look. Was Kent trying to get me and Dash to hook up?

“Dash. My man Jay-Z right here is an up and coming rapper. Dope as hell too” Kent grinned.

“Is that right” Dash said, “You got a demo?”

“How about something live” I said confidently, after having some liquor in me and seeing the stage. The club was packed on this Friday night and I took it upon myself to hit the stage and rock the crowd. I had learned from years of being a hypeman to command an audience and keep them entertained. That was something a lot of emcees lacked, they could rap, but they had no stage presence. They would freeze up when rapping in front of folks, especially a rough neck New York crowd.

I wasn’t afraid of the crowd though, their toughness fed my fire as I hit the stage. And with Dash, Kent, and hundreds of people watching, I performed one of my songs, keeping the fellas throwing their hands up and the ladies creaming.

“Can I kick it?” I screamed, “Yes you can!” the crowd responded.

After I returned from the stage, Dash had a smug grin on his face.

“You think you all that, huh?” he grinned.

“All that, nigga” I said back.

He was looking for talent to manage and promote. I was looking for someone to manage and promote me, because I couldn’t do it by myself. It was a match made in heaven, as we exchanged numbers and talked for an hour the next day about how to bust into the rap industry, for real.

1993

The start to the year was all about rejections. Rejection, rejection, and more rejection. Dame and I would go to a record company, wait in those little waiting rooms, see a tight pants wearing exec, I’d spit a freestyle, Dash would discuss what we were looking for and they’d say they would call us. Each time, it resulted in the label turning us down, saying I wasn’t what they were looking for.

I couldn’t understand it. I was semi hot in the club scene, I had a unique flow and I know I was killing it in those freestyles, but yet and still I wasn’t what they were looking for. Well what the hell were they looking for? It was frustrating because I had never tried so hard at something, only to keep failing. I never had seen myself as a failure, but after giving up hustling and running around New York for two years and not getting one company to even sniff at me, I began doubting myself.

“Shawn, just keep your head up” Fannie would say, or some other cliché shit.

At this point, I wasn’t even listening to her advice anymore. I was angry, tired of living club check to club check and tired of struggling to make any real money. B-High would tell me to remain in good spirits and don’t look back but the more I would hear about Dehaven making tons of money down south the more I began to fiend for the hustle.

Ty Ty told me that Manny was now a millionaire and he had spoken with him a few weeks ago, and that he had asked about me. Maybe that meant he was looking for a worker. I was sure I could sell some to make some quick cash and still rap. But if I did, I would have to keep it from Fannie and Dash; they both believed I was done with slanging for good.

I put those thoughts on hold after I was booked to open for Kool G Rap, and made a few grand in a night. I wanted to help Fannie out by paying for some of our bills, but I needed to buy some new clothes and new jewels to maintain my image. It was expensive to be a rapper, even if I was broke as hell. I had put 10 stacks away for a rainy day but went into it so I could buy chains and put a down payment down on studio time. I never told Fannie about going into our emergency fund, but it was an emergency for me.

We were in danger of falling completely off the map if I couldn’t get a deal soon. Dash was busting his ass promoting my name and building hype for me, but ultimately it would be up to the record companies to give me a chance.

Around this time Fannie became pregnant, something neither of us was ready for. When she told me, I almost flipped.

“Fannie, we can’t have a baby right now. Not now” I barked.

“I know that Shawn. But you don’t have to get loud as if this is my fault”.

“Well it ain’t my fault. You said you were taking the pill” I yelled.

“I am taking the pills, Shawn, Are you blaming this shit on me?”

“No. I’m just saying”.

“What are you saying?” she blurted.

“I’m saying I am taking you to the clinic tomorrow morning” I said, before storming out the door and heading to the club.

That same night, I f*cked some broad in the club bathroom. I came home to Fannie who was laying in bed with used tissue paper all around. She had been crying. I got in bed with her and put my arm around her waist. I thought she was sleeping but she spoke with her back still to me.

“Who is Stacy?” she asked, nonchalantly.

I knew I had been caught; there was no other way around it. Stacy was this light skinned chick I had been messing with, someone I had met in Virginia that had moved to New York to pursue her modeling career. Back in Virginia, I had actually met Stacy before I met Fannie. She was a down chick, carrying my bricks in her girdle and even stashing drugs in her asshole once when police searched us. When she did come to NYC, I made sure to take care of her.

I thought about denying her and probing to see how she found out about her but I knew it would be pointless. I was found out, and it was time to be honest about it.

“She’s a girl I have been seeing” I said.

Fannie remained silent as she lay, I couldn’t even hear her breathing. I wondered if this would be the end of us. I wondered if she’d still even want to keep our appointment to the clinic the next morning.

“Stephanie, I am sorry” I said, trying to get her to talk to me.

“She says she is pregnant; with your child” Fannie eventually replied.

As much as I wanted to be shocked, I wasn’t. I had been f*cking her and Fannie raw at the same time, even spending some of my money on Stacy to make sure she was taken care of. In this rough period of my life, with little money, I had two children from two different women on the way, unless they agreed to abort it.

Fannie and I didn’t say much to each other the next morning as we went to the clinic. I believe she was disgusted at me and it was justified. I couldn’t blame her at all. I tried to hold her hand as we waited to be called, but she kept her arms crossed, staring across the room. I sat back in the chair and attempted to read a magazine, but my mind was in another world.

After the morning appointment I dropped Fannie off at home and told her I’d be back later on that night. I told her I had business to take care of. She didn’t say anything; she looked dead as she left the car without a word.

I drove straight to Stacy’s crib. She let me in and told me what Fannie had said. She was pregnant and she claimed I was the only guy she had been with. Stacy looked completely different from Fannie, she was light skinned with long hair and long legs, a tall model chick. We vibed as friends and our sex was good because it didn’t have the baggage and unresolved frustration that Fannie and I were having.

The next morning, I was at the clinic with Stacy, holding her hand. I paid for both abortions and gave Stacey a few stacks so she could pay her rent and car note, and went home to Fannie completely broke. I didn’t have a dollar to my name.

Later in the week, I met a guy named Marty, a blond hair, fat black record exec that was interested in getting me signed. It was the first time an exec had shown any real interest in me. I went into his office alone; Dash was making runs in Jersey, and couldn’t make it down on short notice.

While in the office, I got a strange vibe from dude. He kept licking his lips and smiling funny.

“Down to business Jay-Z. I like your flow and we’d definitely be interested in getting you signed on” he said.

“What would be the time frame of getting this done?” I asked, something that Dame would usually ask.

“Well that is entirely up to you” he giggled.

The hell was wrong with this guy?

“I don’t follow you” I replied.

“What would you be willing to do for a deal” he asked, bluntly.

I was going to answer and say ‘whatever it takes’ but the way this guy was staring was too weird. I wasn’t imagining this, was I?

“Would you suck a dick?” he asked, completely catching me off guard.

I couldn’t believe this fat ass nigga was trying me. For real?

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” I yelled, standing up.

“Don’t think the rappers out there on the radio ain’t never sucked a dick to get their deal. Everyone has to give something up, Jay-Z” he said, standing up also.

I wanted to kick the dude’s ass, but thought against it. I walked out pissed as hell and called Dame as soon as I got to a phone.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“Dude was a faggot man. Like no joke” I sighed.

Dash had a long laugh on the phone. He kept laughing so hard I had to hang up on the nigga. Maybe he was laughing at the comedy of this entire music shit. It was a joke, getting rejected by label after label and now getting some faggot to try me on some homo shit? It was comedy, straight comedy.

I ended up battling a young, aggressive up and coming rapper named DMX later that week in a club, and he claimed I was “getting f*cked in the ass by record execs” in his freestyle. It was a normal line by battle standards, but I burst out laughing after I heard it, given what had happened to me that week. I couldn’t even formulate a rhyme to beat his, he won the battle and gave me a pound afterwards.

As 94 rolled around, I still lacked a deal, but our mindset was changing. We were tired of depending on these record execs. It would soon be time to make a change.

1994

New York Hip Hop was taking off once again, with two highly acclaimed albums being released by Nas (Illmatic) and a Brooklyn rapper Notorious BIG (Ready to Die). The first time I heard both records, I fell in love, but especially with the Nas joint. The sound of it first of all was something I hadn’t quite heard before, with joints from DJ Premeir, Large Professor, and Q-Tip. I had met Nas some years back but only briefly, he was a quiet dude around that time. I had chatted with him on tour with Large Professor, but nothing substantial.

But I started seeing him out in clubs a lot more once his album dropped. I had a small amount of clout from unreleased music, but he was the man of the hour. He was getting love from everyone in New York, everyone. I had to show the man love when I bumped into him in a club in Brooklyn, I gave him and his brother Jungle a pound.

“Loved the record Gawd, you doing big things” I said.

“I appreciate that brother. I heard some of your shit a while back. Keep doing your thing. We bringing hip hop back to New York” he said.

“Word. It’s a lot of clown niggas faking the funk. But you bringing the real shit back to the radio”, I said giving more props.

He smiled, lit up a blunt, and gave me another pound, “Stay up Gawd. Hit me up when your record comes out” and then he was out.

I didn’t know if he was serious or just being a talker, but I kept it in the back of my mind. If I could get him on a record that would definitely help increase my name in the hip hop world.

I met Dash in VIP where he had four or five dimes drinking shots with him. He seemed to be in a good mood, surprising since he was usually always grinding. But he wasn’t politicking and doing work this night in the club, he was carrying on like he was celebrating. Celebrating what?

“Why you so giddy, nigga” I asked when I sat down.

A few of the ladies begin smiling at me. Well, that was always one reason why Dame would be giddy.

“F*ck the record companies, Jay. F*ck em” he said, simply.

“Yeah, f*ck em. But we still need em” I said, pouring a shot.

“Nah man, that is where you are wrong. Why do you need a record company?”

“To market and distribute my music” I said, “And money for studio time, beats, features, you know money to make an album” I responded, listing every thing I knew a company could provide.

“I have been researching the techniques involved with running a company. And you got to feel me on this Jay. We can do all of this sh*t ourselves. Start up our own company, a black business, have our on street team, do our own distribution, and keep all of the profits”.

Was Dash drunk or was he serious? I couldn’t tell yet.

“Dash, where we gon get the money for all that?” I asked.

“We hustlers, right?”

Dash was always a smart and rational dude, he went to one of them fancy private schools and had a lot of knowledge. But what separated him was he always aimed high and wasn’t afraid of failing. The more he told me about his plan to start our own company, the more I believed in it. By the end of the night, I was giddy as he was. Toasting to our new dream and enjoying the vibe of the party. After Nas performed at the club, Dash and  and I went to a hotel, got drunk, and f*cked them hoes to sleep.

I got a call from Big Daddy Kane a few months later and recorded a guest verse on his album and got 10 stacks for the verse. It was much needed and immediately was put down to record a single. I called Kent up and told him I needed a hot beat and I’d have a few stacks for him, he told me to come into the studio so we could get to work right away.

I went into the studio without a pen or pad and recorded the track in only two takes; Kent was shocked in how fast I finished the track.

“Don’t have time to be bullshitting in the studio all day” I joked with him.

Once it was recorded, we gathered a street team which included Ty Ty, a few kids from Marcy, most notably a kid named Memphis Bleek, my man Sauce Money and some cats that Dash knew. We started selling the single on a mixtape out of the back of our cars to build some momentum. The sales were slow but it felt good even getting a small amount of cash from doing something ourselves. We couldn’t pay our street team right off the bat but we promised them positions with us once we got the company up and running.

My single got a small amount of street buzz, mostly in Marcy, but I needed a way for more people across New York to hear it. Dash had the perfect suggestion.

“Let’s shoot a music video”.

We rounded up what little cash we had and spent 5 stacks on the music video for my first single I Can’t Get With That.

We shot the video in Marcy and made it an event, having a BBQ afterwards. They all showed me love, happy that I was putting Marcy on the map. Jaz-O had shouted out Marcy before, but niggas only remembered him from Hawaiian Sophie, but I was bringing that street shit which is what niggas really wanted. I had recorded 2 music videos before, the second one was the Originators video with Jaz, but this was the first one where I didn’t appear like a cartoon character or a hype man. I was THE man, for the first time on wax and video.

Jaz even came down for the video shoot, but without a verse from him on the track, he mostly stayed in the background. I still sensed that he was genuinely happy for me.

I got a fresh haircut from my brother Eric and had my sisters and mom helping to organize the BBQ. My mom was happy to be planning another block party, as it had been a long while since she did one.

Fannie and Stacy both came to the shooting, which made things slightly awkward, but Stacy wasn’t as possessive as Fannie was. She understood her role as my side, and understood that Fannie was wifey.

Things were going good, I felt we were gaining traction by doing this our own way. One of the members of our street team recommended the name RocaFella records and it stuck. The groundwork was being laid for a legendary label as far as we were concerned, and after we met Biggs who would help us with the money aspect of the label, we felt everything was falling into place.

We had to learn the biz fast and wouldn’t get second chances in how we did things. Dash worked the phones in trying to get us a building where we could work and also tried to get discounts on studio time. I continued performing in clubs, especially my single and gaining clout with Memphis Bleek and Sauce Money acting as my hype men. I wanted everyone involved to eat. I’d put all of them niggas on for being down with me.

I couldn’t pay Sauce Money and Bleek much paper at first, so what I did do was make sure they got into clubs free and got as much pussy as they could handle. Anytime a groupie tried to get at me, I’d make sure they f*cked my people first.

Back home, things were getting better with me and Fannie. She had forgiving me for cheating on her and as my nephew use to spend some nights over my house she’d bring up parenthood.

“What if I were to get pregnant again?” she asked.

“Why you ask that?”

“Just curious. Would you want to keep it?”

“I don’t know Fannie. We still trying to get Roca-fella up and running and everything”.

“I know that. I’m just asking. Do you even want to be a father?”

“I do babe. I just want to make sure I can provide before I bring a child into the world”.

“I love you Shawn. I really do” she said out of the blue.

“I love you too” I responded, meaning it, but still weary of why it came so sudden.

We kissed and made love, but I made sure to wear a condom.

1995

Dame and Biggs did all they could to get Rocafella off the ground and running, with lawyers and contracts and all of the behind the scenes paperwork, after all that was handled I mostly just sat in and listened. Since I was the rapper, the lawyers would assume I didn’t know what was going on as they discussed numbers, but I was following everything. I even hired my own lawyer to look over everything I signed so all of my signatures would be with full understanding.

We had made a deal to print and distribute the records and now all we needed was the funds. If we had done this three years earlier I would have had the money to invest in the company right away but after years of studio time, buying material things to preserve my image, and living, we didn’t have but a couple stacks a piece to throw into the project.

There was a confident grin that appeared across the face of Dame though as he explained our dilemma. We needed cash and we needed it within a short period of time, so we would have to do what we did best and that was hustle. I had always used the term hustling to mean selling drugs but there were always other hustles, especially in the hood. Dame and Biggs got to work on theirs, basketball games, bootlegging, and whatever else them niggas were doing on their side of town.

I knew Fannie would throw a fit if I were to go back to slanging, even for a short period of time, so I decided a different approach. I decided to go see Spanish Jose, the connect that had flooded my neck of the woods with coke for the last decade and a half. It was risky, I had been out of the game and out of his eyesight for years, but I figured it would be worth a try.

I went to his place, the same spot that I had been to years earlier and knocked. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next. It wasn’t Spanish Jose, or even Manny that came to answer the door, it was Vida. In high heels, designer jeans, $500 shades, and a curious look on her face. I’m sure she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“Jazzy?” she asked.

“Hey Vida” I said, trying to remain neutral in my tone.

I didn’t know if she would be happy or angry to see me, so I tried to play it cool so I wouldn’t sway it either way.

“Why are you here?” she asked curiously, a small smile creeping across her face.

“To see Spanish Jose, actually”.

She had keys in her hands that were jingling and I figured she was about to leave in one of the luxury cars sitting in the front. But with me standing there after all of these years, I guess she couldn’t resist.

“Come in” she smiled.

I followed her in and reminisced about the first time Jose had invited me in. I was nervous then and I was nervous now. The game will do that to you, always keeping you on your feet and paranoid. And since me and Vida had history and some bad blood, I didn’t know how this situation would turn out.

“Why you here to see my uncle? He’s gone, by the way. Down in Miami with Manny” she said.

“Well, I was coming back to see if he could give me…a loan” .

She paused for a moment, “A loan? Since when does Mr. Hustle man take handouts?” she asked.

“Not a hand out. A loan. I’m starting up my own record company and if Jose could spot me some of the funds for the startup, I’d pay him back with interest” I responded.

“Oh. So you want him to invest in your little company”.

I cringed when she said little company, “Um, yea”.

“Well how much do you need?” she asked.

“I’d rather talk to your uncle about that” I said.

She laughed.

“Jazzy, haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“My uncle had a stroke last summer. I am running his business up here” she said.

I couldn’t believe it. Vida had taken over for Jose, not Manny or any of his other relatives. The girl that was kept from the family business now was a kingpin over it. I guess they were right about her all along. She would get what she wanted.

“I hadn’t heard. Sorry about that” I said, trying not to seem too shocked.

“You know Jazzy, I want to apologize for the way things ended with us way back then. I did some grimey shit that I’m not proud of” she said.

“Is that right?” I said, trying to act as if I didn’t know.

“Yes. Part of me felt like you already knew, though”.

“Nah, I didn’t know” I lied.

She looked at me and saw the indifference in my face. I guess this isn’t what she wanted to see because she sighed.

“Well. You gave me much more than I could ever give you back in return. And Jose always would say he liked how you and your crew straightend Manny out. I’m sure he wouldn’t have mind loaning you any money. I’ll spot you the money, and you don’t have to pay me back” she said.

We chatted for half an hour or so and caught up, but I remained distant from her. As beautiful as she was, and she was still beautiful, I just couldn’t trust Vida anymore. Even after she gave me the money in cash, I didn’t trust her. We shook each others hands, I thanked her and left still emotionless after my encounter with one of my first loves.

I reported the money Vida gave me back to Dash, emptied out the last bit of savings I had from my hustling days, and Dash came up with the rest. That night, we celebrated the official christening of Rocafella records by renting a limo, drinking champagne with our close friends and family, and buying the bar at the club. Fannie was never the party going type even though she had worked at a club, but even she bought a dress and accompanied me. This was it, the start of a Dynasty. The start of the Roc.

This was an interesting transition for more than just Dash and I. My brother opened up his own barbershop, my sister was hired as a corrections officer, and Dehaven had come back to New York after being cut off by Taj. Taj claimed Dehaven was unloyal, something Dehaven denied up and down. D would swear the only reason Taj stopped f*cking with him was because he was coming up.

Instincts told me to shun Dehaven when I saw him, but the love I still had for him caused me to show him love. We went out to the club and partied, although it was more out of pity for him than anything. He was down on his luck even though he didn’t want to admit it. He had two baby mommas, child support, and no longer had a connect so he could push weight.

“You got me, bruh?” he asked one night as we discussed business.

“I got you” I said, feeling sorry for him.

I made him apart of the street team of Rocafella, passing our fliers and  promoting the name. It hadn’t even been a week and he was already complaining about the work.

“Come on Jay. I’m your man and you got me passing out shit. Let me roll with you, Ty Ty, and Dash them” he said.

“Look D. It may look like we are balling right now, but we ain’t. We still trying to get this thing off the ground. I don’t have my album out yet. Till then, we need cats to promote us. It can’t be too many chefs in one kitchen, we need solders as well as generals” I said.

I could tell he didn’t like what he had been told, but at this point I didn’t even care anymore. After the betrayal he had shown to me, Shaw, Taj, and whoever else he had double crossed, I didn’t owe him anything. One night, I got the call from his baby momma that he had been knocked by the police and was in jail for  robbing someone at gunpoint. He was already on probation, so it resulted in sending his black ass to prison.

After he got his sentencing, she would call me and complain about how her son needed food to eat and other miscellaneous things. I helped her out a few times but after a particular phone call from Dehaven, I decided to cut his ass off for good.

“Wassup man?” I asked him.

“Nothings up. It’s bullshit that I’m even in here”.

“Shouldn’t have been out robbing, folks, D”.

“Shit, maybe if I was eating I wouldn’t have had to rob anyone”.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Dehaven was indirectly blaming me for why he was in prison. He was blaming ME? of all people. I hung up from him with one clear thoughts in mind, revenge. Dehaven had always taught me that to kill a nigga softly, all you had to do was f*ck his girl, his wife, his baby’s mother. He felt as if it was the ultimate win over someone. Maybe that is how he felt when he had f*cked my girl way back when.

Either way, I decided to pay his baby’s mother a visit. I knocked on her door in Marcy projects and waited. She was excited when she saw me.

“Jay! Wow I’m surprised to see you, come in” she said.

She was a thick redbone, ponytail, big ass, big thighs, small vocabulary and could curse like a sailor. I liked my girls a little classier than that, but it didn’t matter for what I had in mind.

“Has D called you at all?” I asked.

“The nigga called me earlier today. He is so angry. Like the whole world is out to get him” she replied.

“He is under alot of pressure. Pressure busts pipes” I said.

She lit a blunt and nodded her head, “Yeah but he shouldn’t take it out on his family”.

“Speaking of which, where is your son?”.

“Oh he is with D’s mom. She is keeping him this weekend. My ass needed a break” she laughed.

“So how are you holding up?” I asked.

“I’m not going to lie. It’s tough. Got bills to pay, got a son and everything and his ass is locked up over some dumb shit. It’s not easy”.

“How do you like it up here?” I asked, remembering that D had moved her to New York from Baltimore.

“I miss B-More, honestly. I don’t know no body here”.

“I bet you get lonely, huh”.

“Yeah. It is lonely here especially with D gone”.

I laughed.

“Why you laughing” she asked.

“Let me get a hit of that blunt” I responded, ignoring her question.

I hit it and exhaled, “You know me and D use to be like brothers”.

“Yeah, he told me about that. What happened? Why aren’t yall as close anymore?”

I pulled out a stack from my pocket and placed it on her coffee table, “More money, more problems”.

She looked down at the stack and then at me. I figured she was wondering if I’d leave it there. The weed started to kick in a little and I laid back, closing my eyes as I took multiple puffs. I started laughing again.

“What is so funny?” she grinned, trying to be involved in on my laugh.

“You are real, pretty you know that?” I smirked, trying not to laugh.

I could see her blushing, “Thanks”.

“Why you sitting all the way over there? Come sit over here” I slurred, laid back in a low voice on the other end of her couch.

Her next move would determine if she was a down b*tch or not. After a few moments of indecision, she stood up and walked over to where I was. I laughed to myself, this was too easy.

“Why you f*cking with that nigga D anyways” I slurred.

She seemed caught off guard by this, “He my baby daddy, and I got love for him” she said.

“You love him” I asked.

“Yeah, I do”.

I laughed again, a dark and evil laugh. A laugh that even surprised me.

“I like the lil outfit you got on. Stand up and model it for a nigga” I said.

The outfit was nothing special, just a jean skirt with a tshirt. Still, her big booty sat up nice in them.

“What you mean, Jay?” she asked.

“Just let me see you work that outfit girl”.

She saw me grinning and I guess took it as a joke, but she did what I asked. Stood up, and walked around her living room, showing off her curves while rolling her eyes. She was ghetto in everything she did, from the way she talked to the way she walked. She swung her hips and rolled her neck, laughing in her Baltimore accent,

“Like this?

“Nah, you gotta put more emphasis into it. Like you are on the runway” I smirked.

She started laughing, but she once again did what I asked, working it like she was really on the runway and I was her audience. When she walked right in front of me to pose, I grabbed her hand and told her to turn around. She looked confused by my request, but as I was beginning to find out, she responded to whatever I told her to do.

She was staring at her wall while her back faced towards me.

“Bend over a lil bit” I said.

She turned her head to look at me, she looked puzzled, but she did what I said, bending over slightly. I put my right hand on her large ass cheek and squeezed it. Even through the skirt I felt how big her ass was. I then lifted up the skirt so I could see more, but she stopped me.

“What are you doing?”.

“Seeing what you are working with” I smirked.

“D would kill you if he saw you doing this” she warned.

I stood up, and now towering over her, said “What D don’t know, won’t hurt him”.

She stared at me hard as I moved closer to her still grinning. Once I was directly in front of her I tugged at her spaghetti strap shirt, until it slid down and her pointy titties were out in front of me. She didn’t move or say anything. I grew even bolder and pinched her nipples, this time she made a heavy breathing sound. If she was really down for D, she would have stopped me long before I had gotten to this point. I didn’t respect her at all, by the time I had removed her shirt and pulled down her skirt and thong. She was ass naked in front of me while I stood there with my clothes on, just grinning.

I made her kneel down and suck my dick, with my hand against the back of her neck, slamming it down hard. She sucked it like she wasn’t a stranger to it, slurping and massaging it. This b*tch was lousy as far as I was concerned. I stopped her for a second so I could go to my jacket and pull out the video camera I had recently bought. Her eyes widened when she saw it.

“What’s that for?”

“Something to remember this by” I said.

“Jay, you can’t record this”.

“Why can’t I? You want that stack on the table don’t you?”

She didn’t say anything, I had her right where I wanted her. This was the art of war.

She resumed sucking my dick, ass naked on her knees as I begin recording it. I talked while she sucked.

“This is Jigga and D’s baby momma. Doing real nigga shit”.

She kept sucking, and I told her to look up at the camera. She did as she was told.

I recorded this for a good five minutes, until she stopped and asked for more, “f*ck me” she said.

I didn’t want to be in her pussy, it was a foul place, where Dehaven had implanted his seed. I didn’t want to do anything intimate with her, which included kissing her f*cking her in her vagina, but there was one place I could f*ck her without feeling intimate. I sat down on the couch with the camera.

“Shake your ass for the camera” I said.

She did as she was told, hands on her knees and shaking what her momma gave her. Her large ass cheeks bounced like waves to her dance moves which distracted me at first, but after awhile I noticed she had a tattoo on her lower back.

“What does that say?”

“Dehaven’s ass” she responded.

I couldn’t believe it. She had a tatoo on her lower back that said Dehaven’s. It was too good to be true, I took a close up shot of the tat and then nudged her forward on her hands and knees. I wasn’t going to f*ck her pussy, he could have that. I was going to take something else. I spit on my hands and wet her asshole. She turned around, possibly to protest against it, but one look at her and she had turned around and was bracing herself. I rolled on a condom and f*cked her in the ass for the next 10 minutes, recording it as I went along.

“Whose ass is this?” I asked.

“Yours” she yelled back.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!”

“And who am I?”

“Jay!”

“Who?!”

“Jay!!!”

“Who?”

“Jay Z!!!”

I slapped her ass, pulled out and nutted over her ass, tattoo, and back. I refused to let a female clean herself off by herself because I had heard stories of girls trying to trap dudes by rubbing nut in their pussy to get pregnant. So I quickly went into her kitchen, returned with a dish rag and wiped her off.

Once I came, we quickly began putting our clothes back on. I felt an ego boost, I assumed she felt as if her dignity was stripped away from her. The worst part is when i picked up the stack that was on the table and put it back in my pocket.

“What the hell?” she yelled, as I began exiting.

“Look. I got this tape footage and everyone in the hood, including Dehaven will see it if you tell anyone what we just did. And stop crying over the money. If you want a trick, go hit a corner” I said, leaving the crib with a sick smile on my face.

That same night, I went into the studio and recorded D’Evils, one of the songs that would appear on my first album. I subliminally dedicated the second verse to Dehaven and his chick.

We ended up starting Rocafella in an old building in Manhattan. It wasn’t very organized, a few chairs and desks with nothing in them. Since we initially only employed people we knew, it started off on some sloppy shit. My sister Annie worked the phones as Memphis Bleek and a few other cats would be gambling. Dash and I were hardly ever there at first, so we didn’t get to see too much of what was going on. We just knew that we got shit done when it had t be.

While the start up money we used was pretty legit, the upkeep would come from drug and blood money as much as it did from shows and single sales. We also used some strong arm tactics to force our way into venues, one time getting our face and logo on a poster by threatening the promoter of the event.  This was never done by Dash, Biggs, or I, but the cats under us were putting in work that you couldn’t write off on a tax sheet.

I started recording in the studio every day, turning out record after record, many that would never make the final cut. Still Clark Kent went in hard with giving me instrumentals to record over as did DJ Ski, another cat I had become cool with over the years. As Rocafella started to get known in the hip hop industry, more people started paying attention to my solo album. Since I was the only signed artist to the Roc, I would get all of the attention. My album would either lead to the success of the company or the downfall. Because of this, a few journalist from magazines did interviews with me, which was good press for us.

After fishing for possible features, I even got in contact with Nas to be on the album. Things were looking good. I released a promotional single and video called In My Lifetime that made it’s way on the radio, my first single that ever got steady air play.

I had always been a fast rapper, but Dame had convinced me to slow down my flow a bit and ride more smoothly. This was the first showcase of that to the public. Dame had dated Mary J Blige briefly before she had released her hit album, so as a favor for him, she recorded some vocals for a song that would be called Can’t Knock the Hustle. Because she was a well known billboard artist, we figured this would be our lead single, but Biggs wasn’t satisfied. He said we’d need something else to release as a first single. So, Kent, Ski, and I kept working, pumping our record after record.

I wasn’t writing rhymes down at all at this point, just would listen to the beat and go in after an hour or so. Because I could lace a track so fast because I wasn’t physically writing, we’d be pumping out dozens of tracks in only a few days. It was crazy. Still, we needed some more heavy hitting tracks.

One day I was at the office for once, with Sauce Money, Bleek, and some other cats when a young girl walked in. You could tell she was inexperienced and wide open, not knowing a record player from an asshole. She said she was here for an internship position after recently graduating from a small time college in Texas. She was a southern girl and we’d show her what it was like up here in New York. I acted as if I was the boss, since Dame and them were gone and invited her into the office.

“What’s your name?”

“Tracy, its on the form” she pointed, referencing the application that was in my hands along with her resume.

She sure was determined and organized. But she had picked the wrong day to show up as far as I was concerned. She was a skinny thing, curly brown hair in a little scarf, soft yellow skin, small breast, thin waist. Just how Bleek liked em.

“You got to put in work to stay on around here” I told her.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean, put in work?”

“You suck dick? I asked.

She was taken back by my question.

“Look, it’s no beating around the bush for me. You want the job experience, then my nigga Bleek. The young man you met out there, needs something”.

I ended up leaving the office and Bleek told me the next day how she sucked a mean dick. I’d see her every now and then when i came to the office, she was usually running errands or on the phone. Every-time I saw her I’d avoid eye contact. I felt ashamed for putting her through that. Still, I never apologized for it.

With my release date coming up for the album I had to wrap it up. I already had recorded a bulk of the tracks, like Dead Presidents, Feeling It, 22 2′s, and Can’t Knock the Hustle, but I needed a smash single.

I looked for Nas to provide that star power.

November 9, 1995

This was the third time Nas had been a no show to the studio and I was irate. Each time I talked to the dude, he’d apologize for missing the recording session and say he’d come through and bless me with an ill verse. He stayed talking about New York unity and us helping each other on albums, but he was dissing me by continuing to miss out on the sessions.

While in the studio, I got his number from Primo who had worked with Nas many a times. I decided to call him straight up to see what was up.

His brother Jungle answered on the second ring, “Yo”

“Yo what’s good. Let me speak to Nas, this is Jay”.

I heard Jungle scream for Nas and then some laughing in the background. Nas came to the phone as if he had a smirk on his face that I could hear through the phone, “Yo who dis?” he said.

“Jay”

“Jay who?”

I didn’t say anything because now it seemed as if he was trying to be funny.

“Oh, my bad Gawd. In My Lifetime Jay. Sorry fam, this weed been getting to me. What’s goings ons, brother?”

“Gawd, we up in the studio uptown waiting on you. You gonna drop the verse or what?”

I heard laughing in the background.

“Sorry my man. I can’t make it tonight. I’m watching my little girl, you know how that is. But schedule me in for next week and I’ll def come by, word up Gawd”.

Was this nigga serious? He expected me to believe he was watching his child, while smoking weed? I saw how he was, and I knew he was never coming down.

“Yo, thanks for the sample” I simply said before hanging up.

I was pissed, not understanding why a rapper would string me along just for the hell of it. But I wasn’t going to dwell on it, the track Nas was suppose to appear on was called Coming of Age and it had to be completed tonight. Instead of recording another verse or two, I got my little homie Memphis Bleek who had been chilling in the studio to write a verse.

Memphis Bleek was a hungry cat, real loyal, real dedicated to anything he put his mind to. Once I let him listen to the half completed song and told him the concept, he took 30 minutes to write his verse. I realized missing out on the chance to record with Nas was a big blow because I needed more features, but I did feel good about giving my man Bleek a chance on a track. He ended up killing his verse.

As fate would have it, only a few days later Kent brought someone unexpected into the studio. I couldn’t believe it as first, it was the Notorious BIG. Biggie had blown up all across the country with his record and even though we were from the same hood and went to the same high school, I had never formally met him before. He was a big dude, mean looking with that lazy eye as he gave me a pound and sat down.

Kent had let Big listen to an instrumental that Biggie had fallen in love with. Big begged Kent to let him rap over it but Kent was a loyal nigga, he had already promised me the beat and since he was in the middle of crafting my first album he told Big straight up that he couldn’t have it. He did come up with a compromise though, Big could rap on the beat, but only as a feature on my album.

This was the big hip hop feature that I had been looking for, maybe even better than a Nas feature. Still, I didn’t know what to expect as Biggie sat down. Kent put on the beat in the background for us to get ready to record and Biggie passed me a pen and pad. I looked at that shit and passed it back to him.

“I don’t write” I said.

“You don’t write your lyrics?”

“Nah. I write in my head. It’s better that way” I responded.

What happened next would be a theme with Big and I. He laughed, a soft laugh for such a large man.

“Nigga, I don’t write either” he said.

We both learned that day that neither of us wrote down our lyrics and when we recorded the track Brooklyn’s Finest, we laughed the entire time we were in the studio. Big was a jokster, always saying something funny or picking on a nigga. We instantly vibed and I think the chemistry on the track revealed how much we clicked on just our first encounter.

We were almost done, but Dash still felt we needed one more smash single. One more track to help sell the album. Jaz-O ended up producing a track that we felt had a lot of pop potential, it was funky and easy to ride to. We just needed a smooth and catchy hook. By chance, Clark Kent was in the studio when he heard me recording my verses to it.

“Yo Jay, you should let my cousin rap on this.”

“Who?”

“Yo, let me bring her by the studio. I’m telling you, she will complete the album”

“Her? Its a female rapper? Nah man I ain’t trying to have no Queen Latifa shit on my album” I laughed.

“Jigga, trust me” he simply said.

Later that night he brought in a foxy little thing, coincidentally her name was Foxy Brown. I was skeptical when I met her, but that soon went out the window when she went into the booth to record her verse. She listened to the beat and my verses and laid down her verse in less than an hour. Fannie came to the studio to bring me Chinese just as Foxy had finished, and I let her listen to it for her opinion. She never held any punches and since she was a hip hop head I was sure to get good feedback.

She listened and bobbed her head to my verses, looking at me and smiling. But when Foxy came on, Fannie lost it. She was nodding her head and smirking like crazy, “This is the hit. This is a hit” she laughed.

Everyone in the studio begin clapping as we finished the last track of my debut album. We named the Foxy song A’int No Nigga and ended up naming my album Reasonable Doubt.

I drove home with Fannie vibing to the unmixed version of my songs.

“When you record your lyrics about having sex with alot of women. Is it true?” she asked.

I looked over at her and lied, “No, it just makes for a hot record”.

Things were going too well for us to argue about my infidelity.

The day that Reasonable Doubt dropped, Fannie, Ty, Jaz-O, Dash, Bigs, Bleek, Clark Kent, Sauce Money, Annie, and everyone that had put work into making this album possible went to the club in a super stretch limo.

“I’d like to thank everyone. Sincerely, yall. From the producers to the people that passed on fliers. To the ones who put up with all of our shit and did it without pay. I thank everyone” I said holding my glass of champagne in the air.

“Now let’s go enjoy this night. Everything is on us” Dame yelled, prompting all of us to start cheering, “Woooooo!”

The driver started playing Feeling It as we begin the night of parting. There was an album release party in the club, a party that turned into an after party and an after after party. We didn’t go home until the sun had peaked in the sky.

April 4, 2008

After a beautiful ceremony where I had finally gotten over my fears and married Beyonce, I lay in bed stroking her hair. We had just consummated our marriage with sweet and gentle sex, unlike the sex we were normally accustomed to having. I guess it was the tears in my eyes that had led to such romantic lovemaking as opposed to the hardcore f*cking we had been doing for years.

Still, something was eating at my insides. I knew that it shouldn’t have bothered me, it shouldn’t have mattered either way. But I still cared. From the thoughts of knowing I had degraded Dehaven’s baby mother and forever had that over him, to knowing I had degraded Nas baby mother and forever had that over him, to the thoughts that karma would eventually bite me in the ass, I feared. I feared that Beyonce didn’t just belong to me, that someone else had done to her what I had done to other men’s wives and loved ones.

I could live with knowing that I wasn’t Beyonce’s first, or second, or third, or whatever. I could live knowing other dudes had f*cked her, but I struggled with the thoughts of one of my former enemies having her and now laughing behind my back about it. There had been rumors about it that I pretended to dismiss, but they were still in the back of my head. I was a confident and carefree guy on the outside, but I was insecure on the inside.

It had been years since I was first told by someone I trusted that Beyonce had f*cked someone I was beefing with, and that the guy was laughing about it behind my back. It had been years since I chalked it up as a rumor and decided to move on. But still, the early morning after my marriage to her, I had to admit to myself that it still bothered me. It wasn’t just going away.

I had always been a private guy, keeping the people I loved close to me and out of the spotlight, but how could I keep the worlds biggest pop star out of the spotlight? Her past was her past, and although our future would be together, I felt like I still needed to know about that one rumor that had been burning me ever since I heard it.

“What’s the matter” she asked me softly, staring at me.

I didn’t feel like a grown man, I felt like the little kid that was dating Vida, afraid of anyone getting a look at her and taking her away from me. I felt vulnerable, wondering how I’d possibly handle knowing that the rumors were true. But as my wife asked me what was wrong, I figured I didn’t want to start off our marriage by lying to her. I had to tell her the truth and ask.

“B, it’s been something I have wanted to ask you for a while now”.

She looked confused, we had only been married for a dozen hours or so and I was already asking a burning question? I could tell she was fearful of what I had to ask.

“I heard something a while ago about you and I just want to know if it’s true” I said.

“What Shawn? You know you can ask me anything”.

“Back in 98 or 99, you met Nas and was in one of his videos, right?”

She looked puzzled by the beginning of this question. I couldn’t tell if her look was a look of guilt, shock, or annoyance, so I waited for her to respond before I finished the question.

“Yea. Nas invited me and the girls on set” she answered slowly and carefully, “What did you hear?”

“I was told by a few people that I usually trust. I was told that you and Nas slept with each other around that time. I’m not accusing you of it or anything, but I just have to know. Is it true? Did you and Nas mess around?”

Beyonce looked at me with her mouth dropped, pain in her eyes as well as confusion. I had told Beyonce many hurtful things from my past and she had accepted it, but now it seemed as if the tables were turned on me. I was scared to death as I awaited her answer. Never in life have I had to deal with accepting a woman that had slept with a friend or one of my enemies, and thinking about Nas, the guy I went to war with on wax, the guy whose hand I shook only a few months ago at an event.

The guy that recorded a verse on my last Album American Gangster and asked me “how is Beyonce doing” as we sat in the studio. To think that he had touched her and on the sly, they were keeping that secret behind my back was torturing me. I even remembered how he had given her a hug at the Grammy’s. Was this karma biting me in the ass? All this time when I was beefing with Nas and chilling with Beyonce, had she been hiding that she had once f*cked that nigga? Or was my mind just playing tricks on me? I stared into my wifes eyes and awaited her answer. My heart skipped a few beats as I saw her gather her composure and take a deep breath before answering.

“Yes Shawn. It’s true. I slept with Nas”.

March 9, 1997

I was sleep, having damn good sleep when I heard my phone ring. Who the hell was calling me at this time in the morning? I rolled over towards my night stand and picked up the phone, whispering lazily into the receiver “He-ll-o”

“Yo, get up Jay. Turn on the news man. Big got shot, man. Biggie got shot”.

Hearing those words caused my eyes to shake and open wide.

“What are you talking about Ty?” I asked, getting out of bed and trying to stop the room from spinning. I was dizzy.

Stacy rolled over and wiped her eyes “What’s wrong baby?”

I walked over quickly to the TV and cut it on. After flipping for a few channels I saw the news report that the Notorious BIG, and one of my closest friends the past few years had been shot and pronounced dead by the doctors. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Pac had been killed recently as well as Big L, another rapper I had been cool with. But hearing about Biggie, my nigga, my friend, was too much to handle.

Stacy looked in horror at the TV screen, putting her hand over her mouth, “Oh My God. Oh MY GOD”.

I dropped to my knees and let the phone fall to the floor, the tears immediately filled my eyes and came forth. The worst period of my life had gotten even worse. I had received bad news after bad news, starting with the news that Fannie had been cheating on me while I was on tour. She was fed up with my cheating and the fact that I was still seeing Stacy. She found out that I was also paying Stacy’s rent and car note.

I flew back home from California to confront her with the news that i heard from Ty Ty, who said he saw her with another guy. When I got home, the place was empty of her belongings. I paged her and waited by the phone until she finally called.

“Stephanie, where the hell are you? And who are you with?”

When she spoke, I could hear that she had been crying.

“Shawn, I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it no more” she whispered.

“Take what? You been cheating on me Fannie?”

“Unlike you Shawn, I can admit to my mistakes and infidelity. Yes I have been having an affair with another man. And honestly, I think we both have been in love with different people.”

“What? So now you love this nigga? Who is he?”

“It doesn’t matter Shawn. He treats me like I should be treated and he respects me. You have Stacy and all of those others girls you are constantly f*cking, so why does it matter?”

“Fannie, I just f*ck them girls, I don’t love them like I love you. You are the only one that I love, can’t you see that? You are the one I want to marry”.

“Shawn the engagement ring you gave me doesn’t mean a damn thing to you. How could you propose to me and then cheat on me every single night? Like, how can you consciously do that?”

“So Fannie is that how it is? You just be like them other hoes, all about a nigga paper. Why come you took the ring with you if it doesn’t mean anything? What you gonna pawn it?”

I heard silence in the phone. I was still irate.

“I cannot believe you just said that to me. And know what, that just confirms to me that this is the right decision. Your ring is on the bedroom nightstand along with my journal I have been keeping the past four years. I wrote it pretty much every week, the nights I suspected you were cheating, the day I aborted our child, the night you released your first album. All of my thoughts are there, as well as your ring. I wanted us to remain friends, we use to be such good friends but as of now I’d prefer if you just never talk to me again.”

The phone clicked off, as she hung up. I ran up the stairs and there was her journal, pictures of me and her, as well as the 1 million dollar engagement ring I had bought her. I ended up sitting there and reading her entire journal, into the next morning.

But that happened months ago, Fannie was long gone and now one of my closest friends was as well. That wasn’t the end of the bad news though. My cousin Emery was locked up. Manny was locked up. Spanish Jose had died from another stroke and Kalvin Klein was locked up. The politics of the rap game was taking its toll on me and I was already ready to quit after just one album. The one person that had kept my mind right and focused on the rap shit was Biggie. In secrecy, we had even formed a supergroup that would compete with Nas’s group the Firm. Ours was called the Commission, and would consist of me, Big, Puff, and Charlie Baltimore, and up and coming female rapper.

I had recorded a track with Biggie for his next album, right in the midst of an East Coast/West Coast rivalry in hop hop. And as people were still mourning the loss of Tupac, we now had to deal with the loss of the late great BIG.

I sat on the hotel floor balling as Stacy tried to comfort me. My life was feeling empty, I no longer knew what I wanted to do or where to go. My first album had been a critical success, but people were clamoring for more commercial success. Dash and linked up with Puffy who was going to be the executive producer for my new album. Everyone had their hand out, wanting more, more, more from me.

Stacy even was insisting that I marry her and give her a baby. I just wanted to be away from it all. I wanted to be back in Virginia, in Fannie’s apartment chilling while we watched Bonnie and Clyde and pretended we were rich. The money, the weed, the women couldn’t hide my pain, the feeling of emptiness that rest in the pit of my stomach. Even after trying out hustling and trying out hip hop and doing well in both, I still felt like something in my life was missing.

I wiped my eyes quick, not wanting Stacy to have the opportunity to see me so vulnerable, and went for a drive. I was in Florida at the time, far from New York where I was sure shock-waves were running through the hoods. When the sun rose I called Puffy and found a way to get in contact with Mrs. Wallace, Biggies mom. She didn’t pick up, understandably so, but I did leave her a message.

“Hello Miss Wallace. This is Shawn, Jay-Z. I am heartbroken over the news, as I sure you are. I just wanted to tell you that your son was loved and will be missed. Hopefully we can talk soon so I can speak with you personally. God bless you Miss Wallace. One love”.

A week later, Biggies funeral was held in Brooklyn. Words cannot describe the scene of the entire city stopping to mourn his death. I held it together, surprisingly, as I said goodbye to not only the greatest rapper of all time, but someone that in only a few years had become a true friend to me. RIP BIG.

Once Big died, a part of New York died as well. Even past New York, a part of hip hop died as well. It was more than music that was going to be affected, it was the competitive nature of Big that would be missed. Most of the public never knew, but Big, Mobb Deep, Nas, and myself were all esoteric rhymers. What that means if we wrote with a competitive spirit involved, always wanting to reference each others rhymes and trying to one up on them. We usually always included a line or two to either poke fun or diss one of our rhyming peers. It wasn’t out of malice, it was all about competition. Nas was a slick nigga, he would diss rappers all the time on the sly, and although it went over alot of peoples heads, Biggie caught it all.

He could do that because he was the master of it, one of the original designers of the craft. He believed in keeping things on wax, but he was all about the rivalry of crews and teams. It was why when Nas got with Dr. Dre and the Trackmasters and formed his supergroup The Firm with Foxy Brown, AZ, Cormega (and later Nature), Biggy called me up and said we had to combat that.

“We gotta go to war” Big said when i picked up the phone on that April morning.

“With who? Pac”

“Nah, I’m not even paying mind to the man. I’m talking about the Gawd with the chipped tooth”.

“Nas?” I asked.

“I got the Gawds album early. He fired a diss at me in The Message. Talking about it’s only one king. “

“Nas’s been on some mafiaso rap shit lately. Been hanging with Raekwon and them” I responded.

“Exactly, B. I heard one of his tracks called Affirmative Action. They suppose to be on some crime family type shit. Puff told me Dre has linked up with them and they talking about making an album. Your girl Foxy, AZ, Nas, and some other cat. Corn something”.

“What you got in mind, Big?”

“We gotta come back. They want to be the Kings of this New York shit, but not with me still here. Nah, f*ck that. I already got Puff backing me, ready. But me, you, Cease, we going back at them, for real. Start our own supergroup.”

“Is this for sport, or is this personal?”

“I got love for Nas, but he been coming sideways. He want to be the best, then he gonna have to come through us” he said.

And that was how the Commission came about. Big ended up adding Charlie Baltimore, a raspy up and coming rapper to rival Foxy, and I would be Bigs side kick as we rivaled the Firm. Big had it in his head that we’d have album releases on the same date, concerts in the same city, and singles out at same time. He thought it would be like two crime families of the Mafia going at it for supremacy. He was so excited about the idea that he went straight into the studio and recorded a track that dissed Nas and the Firm, it was called “What’s Beef”.

Big didn’t want anyone to know who the Commission actually consisted of, so my alias ended up being Iceberg Slim. He thought we could reveal ourselves at a concert where we’d officially announce that we were the number 1 supergroup in Hip Hop. Whatever Big had in mind, I was down and ready.  Big also ended up recording a track called Kick In the Door which was also aimed at Nas.

See, Biggie wasn’t looking for beef, he was looking for sport. He treated the rap shit like it was a game, a game of chess or basketball. It was all about who could be the smartest with how they decided to play the game. New York was all about healthy competition, all in the name of fun.

After those shots were fired and Biggie was gone, Steve Stoute, who was the manager of Nas at the time and a friend of Bad Boy, told us to calm down all of the beef shit. He had caught wind of the growing tension of The Firm and the Commission, but he didn’t know how heated it possibly could get. I talked with Stoute, told him it was mostly in the competitive spirit, but agreed to back off my own diss records so that New York could properly mourn the loss of Pac and Big. I even shouted out Nas on Where I’m From , a track I was recording for my new album hoping to smooth everything over.

The release of that album was hectic for me, especially since it was during the worst period of my life. I wasn’t feeling any of it, the concerts, the interviews, the studio sessions. With Big dead, there was a new sense of anticipation with my new album. Reasonable Doubt had gotten great reviews in the magazines, but it wasn’t platinum yet. Since Dame and I cut out the middle man and started our own company, I still got paid as if I had gone three or four times platinum.

But everyone around me wanted more. They wanted us to produce a smash hit on the charts, to triple our income. Around the offices, that’s all I heard people around me saying. “We going platinum this time baby” Dash would encourage.

Diddy was known for producing hits, so he got r&b acts like Babyface, Blackstreet, Tedy Riley, and Kelly Price to give it a more r&b vibe. It seems everything was out of my hands, as my team around me came up with ideas on music videos and fashion and all of that. I was so out of it mentally, that I was signing off on corny ideas just so I could get the f*ck out of those meeting rooms and relax. I didn’t care about much anymore, but to keep them niggas happy I went in the studio, recorded some bullshit, and left.

Nas ended up recording his album with the Firm, and it was being hyped in magazines left and right. It was suppose to be the biggest thing in hip hop. It irked me because I knew the Comission would have killed that shit. Foxy ended up coming down to the studio and we chatted about it one time.

“Everyone saying that we need a new king of New York” she said.

“Ain’t no new kings. The king is always gonna be Big” I responded.

“Well Nas is determined to be crowned the King. This Firm shit is crazy. Word up”

“What you mean?”

“I mean everyone is counting on us to keep the New York shit hot and popping. It’s crazy for me cuz just 2 years ago I was just dying to be put on. And now, I’m being counted on to keep hip hop alive, you know?”

I could relate to her, all around. I was now being counted on to step out of Biggies shadows and become the man in Brooklyn, the man in New York, the man in Hip Hop. And as much pressure as the streets continued to put on me, the more I resisted it. I half heartedly recorded a lot of that shit, except for a few times where I was really feeling the moment. I ended up getting a pen and notepad and writing You Must Love Me, the old fashion way.

I was out in Marcy one day when a group of kids stopped me for my autograph. They were quoting my lyrics from Reasonable Doubt, verbatim. It was one of the most proudest moments of my young career, but it was interrupted by some cats from that I had known from my early hustling days.

“When you coming back to the hood?” the dude with a 40 in his hand said.

“I’m back now”.

“Nah nigga. You moved up out of the hood. You on TV with the models and crystal and shit. You ain’t in the hood no more”.

“I’m doing my thing for the hood” I responded.

“Nah man. You riding on Yachts while we still ride the train” he laughed.

I ended up leaving after chatting with the dude, but those words stuck with me. Is that how people felt about success? And it wasn’t just them, family members I had never met or heard from in years were coming at me with their hand out. They all felt I was living the glamorous life and thought I owed them something. In retrospect, I realized that I was enjoying life much more in 93 with Fannie and Jaz and Dame than I was as a millionaire. But no one could understand that, they couldn’t understood my pain.

I ended up in the studio and recorded Lucky Me, to reflect that. It was one of the few songs on that album where I truly expressed what I was feeling.

When the album, In My Lifetime: Volume 1, was dropped, I was relieved, unlike my first album where I was excited. I was happy to be done with the process, the recording, the pressure. After one drunken night, I decided that I was unhappy with my life as a rapper. I was done with it. I was going to quit. After just two albums, I was retiring.

December 17, 1997

I couldn’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t have a friend locked up, but the past two years had brought a surplus of my people into the system. My life as a rapper prevented me from visiting them much, but after visiting with my cousin Emery I decided to head down to Florida to see the man that was the catalyst for much of my success. I decided to go see Manny, who was doing a life sentence after refusing to plead down.

He lit up when he saw that I had come to visit.

“I cannot believe my eyes” he laughed as I walked up grinning.

I was weary of prisons, they always scared me, seeing so many inmates taken away from their life. I’m sure Manny could sense the apprehension in my face.

“Oh don’t worry Jazzy. You are legit now” he said.

“Yall cats still calling me Jazzy” I shook my head as I sat down.

“Oh I’m sorry. Jay-Z” he joked, “Mr. Jay-Z”.

“Manny, don’t even play. How you living up in here?”.

“I’m living”.

“I heard about the case”.

“Well. My uncle always said family came first. I wasn’t going to f*ck my fam over. I do the time”.

“You are a real man, Manny”.

He grinned, “Vida told me you came to drop off some money at her place a few weeks ago”.

“Yeah, she loaned me some money to start up my record company. I paid her back with 10% interest. “

“She told me that she gave you the money, it wasn’t a loan”.

“Well, I don’t believe in hand outs.”

“You are a real man, Jay”.

We shared a knowing look, one of mutual respect and reminiscing. Inside, I was also appreciating the fact that I still had my freedom and had gotten out of that life before I got caught up. I heard even Taj had been arrested and was currently fighting his case. This life had too short of a lifespan and I understood it now, looking at Manny, who had only been a self made millionaire for a few years before being busted.

On the same token, I was tired of rapping and was going to take the money I made to do something else in life. I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted to do, but I was going to get out of the spotlight and fall back. Take Stacy somewhere and just go.

“How does it feel being famous?” he asked, “I remember Dehaven would always talk about being a movie star or something”.

“Well for me it’s different. I never wanted to be a famous person. It’s not what one would think” I responded.

“Well I’ve seen you on the magazines and TV. It has to be a nice place, right?”

“It is what it is Manny. If you would have asked me 10 years ago what would I be doing, I would have never have said I’d be here.”

“I would have said the same thing” Manny grinned.

I could see the point he was making, but I still spoke what was on my mind.

“Manny, I’m thinking of giving it up. The rap thing. Just letting it go”.

“Why is that?”

“After Biggie died, man. A part of me died. This rap shit is just as f*cked up as the drug game was. Same shit, different toilet. See, Biggie and I were going to start this rap group called the Comission, we were gonna change the game up with it. Start a Dynasty an-”

“And why can’t you still go through with that?” he pressed.

“Big was the head of that. I mean, I’ve always been a solider Manny, never a head.”

“Well, you have your own label now right? It seems you are a head now. I don’t get why you’d work for it only to throw it away” he said.

“Manny I’ve already accomplished what I set out to do. I got a deal, I released 2 albums, both of them making me a millionaire. I got critical acclaim, on the radio, all kinds of b*tches. All of that. Where do I go from there?”

“But if you were to leave, would they remember you?” he asked, hand on his head.

“Who?”

“The game”.

“What do you mean?”

“When you left the drug game. Did they miss you, Jazzy?”

“I guess it depends on who you asked” I responded, not knowing exactly where he was going.

“No. You paid an exit fee and was out. No one starved because of you. No one cried. But you are in a new position, which you said is similar to the drug game. If you left again, would anyone remember you from the rap shit?”

I looked at him and pondered his question. I was beginning to see the point he was trying to make.

“I guess not” I said, “but is that even the point of living life? To be remembered?”

“Legacy is one of the biggest honors where I come from, Jay”.

“Well you come from a line of drug dealers. I come from roaches and rats”.

“Jay, we all started from roaches and rats. Be it your father or my forefathers. I’m their legacy. The drug commission is their legacy. And anything that comes from you will be yours.”

“Is that why you decided to do the time?” I asked him.

He smiled, looked around at the guards who were closely monitoring us. He scratched his chin full of facial hair, which he had grown since his sentencing. I shared a knowing grin. We shared a pause of silence as I looked at him and awaited his response. He seemed to be deep in thought. What was on his mind?

“Makes me think about the people in your life. Then I think about Big. What he’d say if he were here. He’d say ‘Jay, what’s it about? What’s life about? If you don’t go through as a man’s a man.’He’d say ‘suck it up, take the fall, do the time, that’s what makes you who you are; makes you what you are. How many years have you been around this thing of ours? The Commission? We been here 125 years. What’s it about?”

I remained silent as I listened to him speak his mind. He was clearly attempting to give me some wisdom, the kind that Spanish Jose had instilled in his family for years. Manny had become the wise leader, taking the fall for his crime family so that their empire could continue to thrive under their various leaders across the country, one of them being Vida.

“It’s about rules, parameters. You take the beating for the friend, you don’t lay down. You don’t betray who you are, what you are. You gotta remember guys like Taj, Chill, Ren, Emery. They don’t roar, they don’t rat. You know why? That’s the rules, you don’t break them”.

He laughed but I was still listening to him with all ears. I was thinking about all fo the people I had known over the years, some dead, some locked up, some still slanging. And then I thought about me, I was in a position that none of them were in. As I thought, I continued to listen to Manny speak.

“You were born to be something I wasn’t even suppose to be…humble. Ok, so you humble me now, what you got? You got a war. You got a global war. You got a worldwide crime syndicate now. There’s no rules, there’s no parameters, there’s no feelings. There’s no feelings for this game. So…5, 10 years from now, you’re gonna wish there was an American Commission. 5, 10 years from now. They’re going to miss Jay-Z”.

1998

My meeting with Manny ended up lighting a fire under me. He was right, he was right about it all. I now had a global syndicate and I was the Don of the organization. I could set the trends and industry standards, I could still start a Dynasty and accomplish what Big envisioned with the Commission. Maybe even more important, I could make sure that when I did leave the rap game, people would remember Jay-Z. I wasn’t going to stop until the loss of Jay-Z would be mourned. I wasn’t going to stop until I was the King of New York.

Dame was shocked when I came into his office to discuss the direction of Rocafella. We had just struck it big with a distrubution deal with a major, one where we’d still own all of our majors. We were satisfied with what we had accomplished, maybe even too satisfied.

Dash and Biggs had been watching the Bulls and Knicks game, Jordan was going off. There were rumors that the this would be the last year of the Bulls Dynasty, that had won 5 NBA championships in the decade. There were strong rumors that this would be Michael Jordans last season in the NBA. I wanted to have that type of clout, to make the world stop when I did decide to give up my craft. But first, I wanted to establish my brand and expand upon what we had originally set out to do.

“We need to begin signing other artist” I said, focused in on their reactions.

“We are still getting a lot of money from your project Jay. Why split that up with some unkown cats?” Biggs replied.

“We own the masters of any projects we’d produce. We could sign our own DJs, buy our own studio, our own engineers, and our own artist. It’s a lot of money to spend but with my projects and other artists projects going strong, the money we’d bring in would more than justify the output”.

They seemed surprise by my sudden interest in the direction of the company. I had always been the front man, but they had always handled the behind the scenes moves. But they were moving too slow for me, they wanted to just milk off my projects. They weren’t thinking forward enough, we needed to be aggressive in getting this label along the most elite in hip hop.

“I like the idea, Jay. Who you got in mind about signing?”

“Bleek is ready. I know that. Bleek been ready. Sauce Money is ready. I’ll check to see what is going on with Jaz”.

Dame frowned, “Jay, I know you ain’t thinking about just trying to put your mans on. If we are going to be real about this, we need some potential high selling artist. I support you signing Bleek, but Jaz? He had his opportunity 10 years ago. We need some fresh faces”.

“How about the one chick Jay was working with a few months back?” Biggs asked.

“Who?” I asked.

“You know. The light skinned broad. Raspy voice, she on the track with Gotti’s boy”

“Oh! Amil” I responded.

We all agreed, that Amil, a female rapper that we had got to be on my next album would be among the first artist we’d consider with this new Rocafella. It was more than just Jay-Z now, we were looking to become a brand, with a team of stars.

The first order of business was moving out of the crammed start up office that we had purchased years back. We bought two legit office buildings and hired actually qualified people to work there. We were definitely taking a gamble on our budget, buying fountains and brand new computers, and offering high salaries to students right out of college. But we were banking of the success of my new album to cover it all.

Although my last album was selling well, on it’s way to platinum, the streets were talking and they weren’t pleased with my more pop sounding album. I could feel where they were coming from, they wanted more of that street shit. And I could feel were Dame was coming from, we needed a billboard presence. We met with a group of marketers, who gave us the idea to appeal to both.

“The object is to appeal to both audiences. And we have to be progressive and use the new technology that is out” the new market team leader said.

Over the next few months, we learned about building websites and figured that the digital music was the future of music. We also got up on the new DVD technology that was becoming big, and decided we’d record a DVD called “The Streets Is Watching” as well as a promotional album to go along with it. It would be an ode to the streets, to let them know I heard them clamoring.

On the same token, we decided to work with the hot producers of the time who were blowing up in clubs so they’d my new album, Hardknock Life would have the hottest beats.

We worked with Swizz Beats, Timbaland, Irv Gotti, Jermaine Durpri, and even got Primo to produce a track for Memphis Bleek. I was excited about the direction of this album. I could sense that it was going to be a smash success. I kept telling Dash and Biggs that I was aiming for double or even triple platinum.

More than the producers, it would have the most features that I’d ever had on an album. Irv Gotti was cool with Swizz, who was cool with a up and coming rapper named DMX. I had battled the cat in a club years ago, and appeared on a track with him in 95 but it was my relationship with his people that got him to appear on my album. Irv Gotti sent over one of his prodigies Ja Rule as a favor, and I put him on. Both of these cats had hot flows, and were the new wave of New York as far as I was concerned.

Nas had been falling off something serious. His album with The Firm had flopped and all I heard was how he was recording a movie with DMX. It was perfect timing for me, because with Nas out of the picture, I had a legitimate chance to become the number 1 rapper in all of New York.

Everything was flowing. People were getting behind the Rocafella campaign, and Biggs and Dash were putting in work behind the scenes. While I crafted my album and oversaw every verse, note, and sample going into it, Dash and Biggs were out signing artist. We were still highly dependent on the potential success of my new album so the deals we were giving out were front loaded. Still, we signed Amil, a rapper out of Philly named Bienie Sigel, and gave verval offers to unknown cats like N.O.R.E., Cam’ron and DJ Clue. Jaz wasn’t feeling the contract that I offered and said he’d remain a free agent until something better came along. He said it was all business and nothing personal.

We were a label of the people, not one that simply focused on r&b and pop sounding singles, we went for real spitters and real street cats. We went to the club and got love from everyone, letting anyone with a demo pass us a tape. We came across alot of snakes in the industry and alot of niggas we messed with initially was cut off. Ineffective employees were fired, unproductive dudes were demoted. I did end up promoting Ty Ty, mostly because Ty was a hard worker that saw my dream. He was my top advisory, right up there with my private attorney.

It was all going as well as I could have predicted, and when the album finally dropped, pushed by my biggest single to date, we knew that Rocafella would never be the same.

1999

The Life and Times of Shawn Carter was at an all time high to begin the year. I was truly living the life of a King, a Don, a made man. My last album soared on the charts, winning Grammys, going multi platinum in the states and platinum overseas. We made so much more money than we ever anticipated, that Dame ended up using the funds to invest in yet another potential money maker for us; fashion. He started Roca-Wear, and put me on board to help oversee the clothing line. We even started messing around with movie studios and screen writers to see about possibly having some movies made. Dash joked that we should make a biography about my life.

“Jay, we could get Will Smith or someone to star you” he laughed.

“You a funny nigga” I laughed back.

“Nah but for real. You naming your next album the Life and Times of Shawn Carter. It would be perfect to have a movie, a biopic to go along with it. EVen if it was a documentary”.

“I can’t do that, though Dash”.

“Why not?”

“Privacy issues. I got too many people I know that don’t need any high profile attention and a movie would compromise all of that”.

We put an end to a biopic of my life, but still ended up pursuing our options when it came to movies. Dash was such a jack of all trades that he even took a screenwriting class, to cut out the middle man of needing a screen writer.

I was becoming a jack of all trades as well, giving heavy input into the label and clothing line and all of the major decisions while still having a hand in the music industry. I was big, bigger than I could have reasonably expected only four years prior. I had a new purpose in life, to be the best and I was becoming the best at what I was doing. DMX was doing his thing, and the south was coming up with cats like Master P and Juvenile, but wasn’t one one f*cking with me. Not even the man that once was proclaimed to be the savior of New York. The man I had once looked up to; Nas.

I had heard a few tracks from his new album and I was surprised at how wack they had been. The boy was falling off, rumors going around that he was going through problems with his baby moms and that his mother was sick. The streets weren’t feeling him, the radio wasn’t feeling him, New York had lost patience in him and were now more focused on The Roc, and Bad Boy, and Ruff Ryders. His label, Ill Will records, and his crew of rappers had never taken off. Even the b*tches I ran into always had some slick shit to say about the kid.

I ended up running into him in a club on the West Coast, he was promoting his new album and when I came into the club, everyone turned their attention to me, Bleek, and me entourage. I immediately felt the tension brewing. I ran into Nas’s friend Nature, who gave me a pound and then returned to Nas in VIP. After I had politicked with a few of the DJs, Nature was back in my face, letting me know Nas had invited me to chill out with him.

I didn’t know what to think of the mans intentions. I had never forgotten about his dismissal of me back in 96, and I was wondering if he felt a certain way about me now being on his level as far as star power in hip hop. My curiosity of the situation made me accept the invitation so I could see where his head was at. They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer and I was anxious to see if Nas was friend, or foe.

Bleek and I went to VIP where Nas was surrounded by groupies, popping bottles, with a cigar in his hand. He had on a Yankee fitted hat with a huge QB chain and other jewels. He was clearly trying to shine, with at least $300,000 in gems on his neck and wrist. I wasn’t trying to flash, too many chains were getting snatched and wasn’t trying to catch any cases with things going so well for me. Nas didn’t seem to have those issues on his mind, he was all smiles, grinning, joking, talking loud. He was unlike I had ever seen him.

“Yo Gawd, come sit with the boy” he said when he saw me and Bleek.

Bleek looked at me with a skeptical eye, I could tell he wasn’t feeling the gesture. Bleek never cared for Nas after the way he had dissed me long ago, but Bleek did owe his gratitude for it. It was Nas’s no show that allowed Bleek to record for my album. I gave Bleek a return look of skepticism and sat at the table with Nas, Bleek sat across from us. The groupies started brushing up against Bleek but he was un detoured, he brushed them off. Bleek was focused on figuring out where this was going to lead, he wasn’t focused on distractions like liquor and b*tches.

I lit a cigar and grabbed a drink, wanting to seem relaxed and not too suspicious. I motioned for Bleek to do the same.

“I’m feeling you kid, feeling the vibe bro. You, X, Ja, the Lox, we all doing big things for New York” Nas said, high out of his mind, but showing me love none the less.

I laughed, “Yo man, you know everyone been waiting for this album? It’s been a minute since your last one”.

“Yeah man, I planned to do a double album but I’m doing one now and another one later this year. Give the streets what they been missing. I know they been missing the King” he said.

And like that, I knew his gesture to pop bottles with me was disingenuous. He was blatantly calling himself the king with me right in his face. As far as I was concerned, the crown was still vacant, and a man that hadn’t released a solo album in three years couldn’t be claiming it. I saw Bleek grin as he sipped his drink, he could sense exactly what I was. I decided to play the game after he threw out the first card.

“It takes a big man to fill the shoes of the king” I said.

“No doubt baby boy, no doubt. Takes a real man to wear the crown” he responded.

He was testing me.

I took a hit and smiled, “You acting like I ain’t just do 5 mill, Gawd”.

Nas almost choked while laughing. Jungle, Nature, and Wiz, all of Nas people started laughing as well. I looked at Bleek who was looking serious, checking to see how he’d respond.

“Nah Gawd. I respect that. You doing your thing. At the end of the day, it’s all love. The same love I had for Biggie is what I have for you”.

“Yeah, I knew you and Big had this friendly rivalry going on”.

“No doubt, kid. Biggie was my man, but we threw some heat back and forth. But it’s all love right now, I ain’t on none of that beef shit. We all getting money, its enough love to go around” he said.

Was he now backtracking? Or had I overestimated the hand he was playing? I decided to fall back as well.

Nas and I ended up chatting and laughing it up, getting drunk and downplaying any thoughts that there was any tension between us as artist and men.

“Yo Gawd, i’m trying to decide which to take home. I’m thinking of shorty over there, but I think Wiz been clocking her” he laughed, pointing out a sexy body chick that had been on in VIP but was now on the dance floor.

I laughed, “Do like Bleek and I do and bring them all home” I said.

“Ill man, you an ill man” he laughed.

We joked and laughed and drank, and even Bleek relaxed a bit. After the night started winding down, I decided my time in the club was up and I motioned for Bleek to bounce. I stood up and gave Nas a pound, “Good look on the drinks and shit, dog” I said.

He caught my hand shake and stood up, he leaned in and whispered in my ear “It’s been good, King”. He took a step back and was grinning.

I left knowing that although Nas and I had partied, the rivalry was on. It was inevitable, regardless because we both wanted the same thing. We both wanted to sit on the throne as the king of New York and this rap shit. I was ready for war, and Bleek had my back.

I ended up being a feature on Bleeks album and recorded a verse on the song What You Think of That that was a subliminal to Nas.

He responded shortly afterwords on his album with the first verse of the track We Will Survive, where he tells Biggie in a mock letter that there is no competition for the crown of New York, among other shots at me.

Before I even had a chance to respond to anything, Bleek decided to send a few shots at Nas in his songs. It caught me by surprise because it wasn’t in my plan for anyone else to get involved, I was interested in having the subliminal war by my lonesome. I had to confront Bleek about it.

“Yo man, why you send the subliminal at Nas?”

“He coming at us man, and I ain’t with that man. F*ck Nas and Jungle and them snake ass niggas Jay. We gotta smash them niggas, man”.

“In time bruh. We can’t go all out at them yet, its a chess game. There is an art to this shit. The art of war. We will kill them niggas without even having to go all out, trust me. Just gotta be patient” I said.

“Aight man. I hear you. But if this nigga comes back at me, I gotta respond, yo. I got my rep to protect, I can’t just not say shit”.

“I hear you Bleek. Handle your bizz, but keep it simple and as a subliminal. DO NOT mention the mans name on record. Don’t do it. Keep everything light”

We gave each other a pound and sure enough Nas has responded to Bleeks subliminal with one of his own with his single Nastradamus. It was starting to become apparent that eventually one of us would bite the bait and come out with a full diss. We were throwing small jabs just to see who would show his hand and strike first.

The fans were starting to pick up on the subliminals though, and soon DJs and magazines and cats were asking me “Are you and Nas cool?”

“I have no problems with Nas, as far as I know” I’d respond.

It was around this time, my single Big Pimping was released and was blowing up in clubs. I had become more business oriented and was in the office more than I was at the club, but one night I felt drawn to mingle with the people. I walked up in the club to the spotlight of hundreds of excited men and women, but it was the women that I was interested in. Even with my track talking about not loving a chick or wifing her, the girls were willing to throw themselves for just a free minute with me. It was intoxicating to be sought after by so many women, women that likely wouldn’t have even given me the time of day when I was younger.

I had my pick of the litter, and I had my eye on this dark skinned shorty over in the corner when Ty Ty taped me on the shoulder.

“Yo, that’s Nas baby moms right there” he whispered.

“Who?”

“Nas Baby moms, Carmen I think her name is. She over there in the corner” he said, pointing her out with his elbows so we didn’t draw too much attention. She was in VIP with a group of women, and immediately I figured Nas was around somewhere. I mingled with Ty, and my crew, and watched her like a hawk. After a few drinks and a handful of songs blared on the speakers and still no sign of Nas, I begin to think that maybe she was out here by herself. The more I thought, the more I realized that was likely the case. I had heard of her and Nas having problems and it would make sense for her to be out with a group of her friends.

I got a bright idea, it was time to take this little rivalry with him and I to another level.

“I’ll be back” I whispered to Ty as I stood up.

He grinned, “Yo, get one of her friends number for me”.

I laughed and then straightened up my face, this was serious. She wasn’t a dime or anything, but she had a cute smile and figure, I figured since he messed with her before he got famous that she was to him like Fannie was to me. I had to find out.

“What’s going on ladies, yall want a drink”  said, standing at their table.

“We thought you’d never come over, Jay” one of the girls said.

It caught me off guard, were they anticipating this move? I looked at her confused and tried to maintain a smile. I looked at Nas baby moms who had a sly and shy grin on her face, I couldn’t tell why she was looking to weird.

“Hi Jay” she smiled.

“Wassup, yall enjoying yall night?”

They shrugged their shoulders and begin laughing.

“I’m saying though. Yall over here looking beautiful and all that, can a nigga rap with you or what?”

I was using the plural form of the sentence but I was eyeing Carmen. She was eying me back, cheesing at the prospects. She got out of her seat and we begin walking towards an empty spot in the room. Her girls just smiled and shook their head.

“So what’s your name?” I asked, pretending as if I didn’t know.

Her smile vanished and she looked at me suspiciously. Damn, was she crazy or something? How could a simple question cause her to look so stank all of a sudden?

“Shawn, you don’t remember me?” she said.

The hell? She was calling me by my government. And why would I remember her? I looked confused and squinted my eyes.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you don’t remember” she said with her mouth dropped, an embarrassed smirk on her face.

“Damn, should I remember?” I asked, confused.

“You don’t remember, we chatted a time or two before, at a few clubs over the years. Shit, we talked about one of your albums before it came out like two years aso” she said.

I looked at her hard and could tell she was being dead serious, she was frustrated that I seemed to be drawing blanks. Shit, I f*cked so many girls from clubs and talked to so many, I guess talking to someone like her would not even register as a memory. I was likely drunk out of my mind when we had talked all those years ago. I needed to play my role though and not f*ck anything up, so I decided to pretend that I was just having a temporary memory lapse.

“Shit, I remember now. Carmen, right?” I said.

“See, look at you. Playing games like you don’t remember” she smiled.

I shrugged my shoulders and grinned, “Yeah. I was just testing you”.

“You have really blown up” she said, “Like I’m happy to see you doing so many big things”.

The way she was talking was concerning me. How much had me and her talked? I hadn’t already had f*cked her, had I? Damn, this shit was f*cking with me because I couldn’t remember at all.

“How come we never kept it touch?” I asked.

“Well, I never accepted your number” she smiled, “we just talked only 2 or 3 times. I was trying to be a house wife and all of that so I said no”.

This was the moment I had been looking for.

“Oh so you got a man? You married?”

She laughed hard, “It’s complicated, for real. You’d laugh if I told you who the guy was though”.

“Word?” I smirked, acting oblivious.

“Nas” she said like it was a huge secret she was just letting to get off. I acted surprise, raising my eyebrow and letting my mouth drop.

“Nas?…The…the…The rapper?”

She smiled “Yes, Nas. The rapper you have been beefing with lately”.

“Nah, there is no beef with us. I just was in VIP with him a few months back”.

“That ain’t what he be saying. He says yall have been going back and forth for a while now”.

“I don’t know what your husband is talking about, Carmen. For real”.

“Nas isn’t my husband, Shawn”.

“Then what is he?”

“I don’t know what he is. We still mess with each other. I still love him. But we’re not together like that anymore”.

“Don’t you have a baby by him?” I asked, pretending like I didn’t know.

“Yeah, I do”

“Well then that makes him yo baby daddy” I grinned.

She smiled, one of those shy but seductive smiles. I ended up asking her for her number. It was the first time I had asked in my sober mind, but apparently I had already asked her a few times. This time around, she wrote it down and gave it to me. We said our goodbyes and I met back with Ty Ty, who was grinning.

“Put this in my cell” I said to him, passing the folded up piece of paper.

“Big Pimping” Ty said on the low, face full of teeth.

I laughed and shook my head at what I was about to do to Nas.

I wasn’t in New York long, I went to Trinidad to record the music video for the single. MTV was there to chronicle the making of the video, and Dame and I had one of the best times ever on a set. Dash ended up f*cking a lot of the chicks, model chicks and dimes, but I ended up getting head from a nearly a dozen. I felt like a kid in a candy store, picking women from all over the world to swallow my nut, which only made me feel bolder as I recorded the video. I meant every word in those lyrics.

Dame had started dating r&b superstar Aaliyah around this time, and he’d joke about it with me, claiming a nigga hadn’t made it until he was with a pop diva.

“You ain’t big pimping until you got a chick on the pop charts” he laughed.

“I’ll get me one, one day. Watch your back’ I grinned, with a blunt in my hand.

I was still kicking it with Stacy, through all of my shit, she was still down for me. I could tell my degrading lyrics towards women and my lack of respect for monogamy bothered her, but not to the extent where she’d actually leave. She loved a nigga, and was a down b*tch, always had been. Anytime I called, she’d come through, no matter if it was rain or sleet or anything else. I kept her away from the club scene, just because I knew how niggas tried to get at a mans girl. I was doing it with Nas baby moms, so I was determined to keep mine out of the spotlight and out of the water with all of the sharks.

While I was on tour, I would call Carmen to see what was up with her. Told her when I came back from tour, it would be on. She’d giggle, say she wasn’t trying to go there, and some other bullshit but I paid it no mind. I knew if she wasn’t willing to go there, she wouldn’t have been entertaining me talking to her. She was just like anything other chick I had taken from a dude, her game was no stronger. She wasn’t fooling anyone with that fake ass platonic friend bullshit.

When I made it back to New York, I gave her a call. Apparently, she had moved to L.A.

“Damn, why you all the way out there?” I laughed.

“I had to get away from Nas. I gotta do my own thing” she said.

“Well, if you are happy, then i’m happy. But let a nigga know when you get back to the city” I said.

“I will”.

A few months later, she let me know that she was back in New York. She was staying with Nas at his crib and it made me grin that she was calling me from his house. When she called, I told her to hold on because someone was on the other line. But really, I just had to laugh with Ty Ty for a minute and get it out of my system.

“What you gon say to the b*tch?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m going to try and come through and smash tonight”.

I clicked back over and she was sounding depressed.

“Shawn, you think we can hang out tonight? “

“Sure, like a club or something?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna go anywhere that Nas will be. He’s so jealous, and too many people will wonder what’s up if they saw you and me together”.

“I’d be one of them. I’m trying to figure out wassup” I said.

“What you want to be up?” she asked.

“How about I meet you at a hotel”.

“I don’t wanna go to a hotel, Shawn. Could I just come to your place?” she asked.

Damn, I thought. I never brought jumpoffs over to my crib to see where I rest my head. Stacy was out of town doing her modeling thing and I had the place to myself, but I really was apprehensive about a b*tch I was using for war to get up in my crib. I looked over at Ty and pondered my options.

“Hello, you there?” she asked.

I remained silent.

“Shawn?”

“Oh my fault, I was thinking of something” I said.

“About what?”

“Nothing important. Just come through around 11″ I said before giving her my address.

Ty and I lit blunts before he left and I showered. At 10:48, I heard a car pulling up in my driveway. I walked to the window and there she was, getting out of the car in a tight skirt and her hair did in a scarf. This was too sexy to be anything friendly or platonic, she knew why she was coming.

I met her at the door with a tank top on and jeans, blunt in my hand. She seemed surprised, as if I was too dressed down for her.

“Damn Mr. Rocawear, that’s the best you got” she said as I grinned at the door.

“I don’t dress up to stay in my crib”.

She frowned her face slightly and rolled her eyes before coming in. I showed her around the place, made small time and made her something to drink. I knew I had invited her over so I could seal the deal and send her home to her man, but her conversation was more intriguing than I had anticipated; surprisingly she made me laugh.

“You’re a funny girl” I smirked after she had tried to mimic the way I sounded on record.

“And you’re a funny guy. Why you try to be so hard all the time?”

“I’m just me, Carm”.

“Nah, I don’t believe it. Nas be telling me he never even heard of you being some big time drug dealer in Brooklyn”.

I chuckled, “you believe everything your husband say?”

“I don’t but he seems to really believe it. And stop calling him my husband, sheesh”.

“You got a ring on your finger, why can’t I call him your husband?”

She sighed deeply and looked down at her rock, taking it off and holding it out on her hand, “does this make you feel better?”

“Shorty i’m fine either way.”

She ended up putting it in her purse as we continued talking. I got her to sit closer to me and eventually I wrapped my arms around her, she smelled good, and her breast were sitting up just enough to subconsciously catch my attention every so often. She thought she was slick with the way she was carrying herself, trying to straddle the thin line of being flirty and reserved. Who was she fooling?

“So Shawn, what do you want from this?”

“Good question. Let me have my secretary get back to you with that” I joked.

She elbowed me, “No, serious. What is it? Just sex?”

“You say that like it’s the worst thing in the world”.

“Nah, I’m just not trying to get caught up in the middle of no drama. I can’t be f*cking one of Nas’s peers like that”.

“For someone that ain’t your husband, he sure does have you locked down”.

“If I was so locked down, then why am I at your house, huh?”

“You tell me, Carm. Why are you here?”

This seemed to throw here in for a loop, being put on the spot. How would she wiggle her way out of this one without looking devious? She got a call on her cell phone and went for it immediately, I figured it was Nas and judging by the annoyed look on her face when she saw the number I could tell I was right.

“Speaking of the devil?” I asked.

“It’s Nas”.

“I know” I laughed.

“I gotta go. I didn’t think he’d be back so soon”.

She stood up to leave, it was not even 12 yet and I had failed to accomplish my mission. I didn’t want to feel as if I would be wasting my time to I at least tried to get something to make up for the fact that I wasn’t going to f*ck her. I brought her in to hug me and after a long hug, I leaned into her neck and started sucking. I skipped kissing or pecking or nibbling and went straight to sucking. I fished for a reaction and once I heard her exhale, I knew I had her.

Using my free hand I reached towards her top, and slyly pulled out one of her titties, and after playing with her erect nipple as I sucked I made my way downwards to suck her exposed breast. She backed up a little and I followed, keeping my lips attached to her, I heard the phone off of again in her purse and kept sucking even harder. I was hoping this would eventually lead to us finding our way back to my sofa and f*cking, but she had more will power than I gave her credit for.

“I gotta answer” she whispered.

I took a step back and folded my arms with a grin, watching and waiting for her to answer.

“What?” she said as she picked up. Damn, no respect.

I heard a voice barking at her as she rolled her eyes, “I’m just now leaving my friends house, Nas. Stop bugging. I’ll be home in a lil bit, damn”.

More barking from the other end, and I raised my eyebrow. She just sighed, before finally clicking the phone off. I don’t know who hung up on who.

“Better get home to your husband. And put that ring back on” I smiled.

“Call me later?” she asked.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. I want to hear your voice before I go to sleep”.

Inside I was feeling lame for following along with her request, but I had to keep playing my role. The panties would be soon to drop, I could tell, as long as I didn’t show my cards that she was being used as a pawn in this rivalry with me and her man.

“I got you shorty”.

She leaned in to me and we kissed. She left and I went inside and made myself a sandwich to get the taste of her out of my mouth.

I was busy with shows and meetings as we officially got Rocawear going and were making more moves to sign artist to our label. I met this young up and coming DJ named Just Blaze and we exchanged numbers, we got the ball rolling on Amils first album as well as Bleek. Beanie Sigel’s debut was right around the corner and I made sure to provide vocals for all of them. I wanted the Roc to feel like a team, a family, a Dynasty.

This is when I got the idea to have a compilation album for the Roc to showcase all of the talent we had signed in the past two years. Most of them cats were unknown or only received recognition from features on my projects but I wanted them to get enough buzz to be able to shout out the Roc and help to expand the brand.

I was so busy with work and really getting Rocafella established as the biggest label in hip hop, that i subsequently fell back on pursing my conquest of Carmen. I’d still call her or allow her to call me, just to keep things close to the vest, see what Nas was up to on his side, and keep her intrigued, but nothing time consuming. My relationship with Stacy was becoming stale, mostly because the once baggage free relationship we had, was now becoming full of baggage. She was feeling just as insecure as Fannie had been.

“Shawn, why can’t you just be faithful, for one damn month even?”

“You are bugging right now”

“Am I bugging because I don’t want you f*cking every single girl in the city. It makes me look bad, like a ho or something”.

“Stacy, chill out. Stop caring what them jealous girls is saying”.

“But Shawn, I’m hearing you are messing with Rosaria Dawson, and Nas baby moms, and Amil, and-”

“Run that back. You heard what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you heard I was messing with Nas baby moms? Who told you that?”

“One of my girls. She is cool with Allen Iverson, and they were saying how you and Nas baby moms been kicking it. They stay asking me about the shit like I know and it pisses me off because they know and I don’t”.

“Stacy stop believing every bullshit rumor you hear”.

“So you haven’t messed with any of them girls?”

I remained silent.

“Hello? Shawn?”

“My bad, I was thinking of something, what did you say?”

“Know what, nevermind”.

“Stacy, you chill out. I gotta go, call you tomorrow”.

“Yeah whatever” she responded.

I hung up.

I was beginning to feel it might be time to cut Stacy off, she was becoming too protective and therefor could be a liability to me.

2000

I got a call from Dehaven early in the year, he had gotten out of prison early. Too bad he didn’t know that he called me right in the middle of me getting head from Mya, the r&b chick that I had recorded a verse for her new single. She and I had carried on a short sexual relationship, but it came way too easy for me to contemplate taking it further. Dame told me she had been around the block in the industry.

Dehaven was talking, apologizing and shit, but I really wasn’t hearing any of it.

“Yeah” I said blankly as I stared down at the light skinned shorty that was sucking me up something serious.

“Whenever you are free, I wanna just meet up. Rap with you like old times, man. I been doing alot of thinking when I was in there, and I just wanna be sure that you got me, dawg”.

I rolled my eyes and held in my smirk, “I got you fam. Just hit me up”.

I hung up the phone, figured he got my number from one of my sisters or Eric, and let the chick giving me dome to finish me off. When I was done, we hugged, I smacked her on the ass and sent her home.

Dame had decided it would be best to market the album as if it were my 5th album, instead of it being marketed as a collaborative effort. Still, all of my Roc brethren were going to make appearances, including a few in house producers that Dame had signed. Just Blaze was one, the cat I had chatted it up with the year before, but one was this awkward and funny acting cat from Chicago.

He had a weird presence, but he was serious on that 808. While in the studio, he ran through a bunch of his beats until we got to a friendly, playful, yet soulful instrumental.

“Yo, Yo, keep it there” I said.

“This is the shit” he grinned.

I listened, and bobbed, and listened, and bobbed. It was so simple, yet eloquent with a sample that anyone could vibe to, didn’t matter what coast you were from. Not even 20 minutes later, I was in the booth recording a verse for it. I ended up naming the track This Can’t Be Life, and we ended up signing the producer to the label. It was the only track that the young producer named Kanye West would contribute to the album, but he had proven to me that he could lace a track, and I knew he’d be beneficial for the future.

Later that week I got a call from Carmen, as usual her and Nas was on a little break and she wanted someone to talk to. I wasn’t much in the mood for talking, I was tired of playing games with her and letting her act as if she had the upper hand. Every bit of leverage I had given to her, was loaned.

“Meet me at the Hilton” I said, simply.

“Since when do we meet up at hotels?”

“Since now. Meet me there in an hour” I said, before hanging up.

Just like a woman wanting a man to take control, she was at the hotel before I was, waiting in Nas’s Jeep for me. I tapped the window, which startled her. She put her hand over her heart dramatically and after playfully acting as if she was fearful, she unlocked the door. I looked around and slid in the car, which had tinted windows.

“Thought you was the police, or Nas” she laughed.

“Damn, he let you out in his Bentley?”

“I just took it” she laughed.

“You love playing with fire, don’t you?” I asked.

“I guess I do, meeting your ass here in this hotel”.

I looked around Nas’ ride and took a deep breath, smelling the interior. Seems as if he had just pulled it off the lot and know his baby moms was driving it out to meet me. It was too perfect.

“So what do you want to do?” she asked.

“You already know”.

“Is that what this is? A booty call” she tried to joke.

But I wasn’t joking, it was time she give that ass to me and stop teasing. No more games, no more chase. She was going to give it to me. That funk, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff.

“Carm, I ain’t even here to play no games. Are you gonna keep flagging or are you ready to do this shit, for real?”

I don’t think she liked how upfront I was being about us finally having sex, but she never once gave off the vibe that she was against what I was getting at. I guess she wanted it to be romantic or sweet, but she was going to get it how it came.

“I’m here, ain’t I?” she said, simply.

That was all I needed to hear, I went straight for her neck, sucking it like I had done back at my crib. I wanted to send her home to him with hickeys and marks and a bruised pussy. I knew he had been hearing about the rumors of her and I, I’d sent a few bottles to her at a club and we were seen hugging at an event a few months back. But until I actually f*cked her, it didn’t mean much. It made me look like a sucker more than it did him. These thoughts caused me to get aggressive, I wasn’t even interested in going up to the hotel, I wanted to f*ck her in her mans new car.

And as I pulled up her panties off and pulled out my dick, that is exactly what I did. Behind the security of tinted windows, we climbed in the backseat and she mounted and rode me, rocking the jeep in the parking lot of the Hilton. I didn’t bother removing her dress or even pulling out her titties, simply rolled on the condom and had her ride me. I wasn’t even concerned with being good or lasting long, because after only a few solid minutes of riding, I bust in the condom and had pushed her off me. I dropped the condom on the floor and zipped up my pants. I had done it, finally. I had f*cked the mans wife.

With that out of my system, I was going to leave but after she picked up the condom and tossed it outside, I noticed a certain disappointment in her eyes.

“I know I didn’t wait all this time, for just one nut?” she said.

I smiled at her, “Oh, you want more?’

We took it upstairs to the hotel and I f*cked her silly, even at one point taking it outside on the balcony, hitting her from the back. I smacked her ass and thrust with aggression, fully intending to punish her coochie and leave a dent in it. So that when he went to f*ck her, he’d know he shared that girl. I wasn’t trying to cum inside of her again, so when  felt myself rising, I had her get on her knees. I pulled out, stroked my dick, and nutted all over her face, from her eyelids down to her chin. She was covered in a thick layer of messy semen, and I loved it.

I didn’t know if me and Nas would ever officially do battle for the King of New York crown, but once I left the hotel and sent her home to him, I knew I had that trump card in my back pocket if he ever got slick at the mouth. It was over for the Gawd.

I ended up f*cking Carmen about 10 times over the next few months, even once inside Nas’ crib. The phone conversations with her stopped, anytime I called, it was a strictly sex thing. She seemed to resist this at first, but the b*tch had lost all leverage once she allowed me to skeet in her man’s Bentley. She had no more bargaining chips, it was either get f*cked or get lost.

Coincidentally, my man Bleek called me and let me know he needed a verse for his song “Is That Yo Chick”. I thought it was all a coincidence, but the tone in Bleeks voice made it apparent what he was thinking.

“Yo man, get your ass over to the studio and put down that verse” he laughed.

“What you talkin’ bout man? I can’t rap about f*cking some man’s girl, I could never do such a thing”.

He laughed in the phone, “This nigga can’t come back from this one. Gon head and put the nail in his coffin. This Ochie Wally ass nigga is finished” he said.

“I’ll be over in an hour” I said.

I went in the studio, heard the track that had already been laid, and recorded my verse in less than an hour. I left the studio giving Timberland dap, as he shook his head.

“You a foul nigga” he laughed.

I knew he had produced for Nas last album and was cool with him, but even he couldn’t deny the venom that I had spit on the track.

I simply laughed and gave him a pound. I rode home with Ty Ty as we listened to the finished version of the track. We played it on repeat and grinned the entire time.

That same month, I went to the video shoot to lend support to Amil who was shooting her first music video. Amil and I had been cool for a while, nothing too serious as far as dating went, but we had some great sex and she was down for threesomes and recording flicks and all that.

She was a down b*tch, and was partly the reason Stacy and I were on time out because she had walked in on me and Amil in the hotub. I came on set and tried to calm her down, she was nervous as hell. She always put on a front, but she was an introvert. More shy than bold when it came to the spotlight and with this being her first solo shoot, I could tell she was feeling like a wreck.

“Calm down shorty. You will be aight” I grinned.

“I know Jay. Just trying to make sure I do this right”.

“You got your girls here, you should be aight” I said, looking over at Eve walking over.

Eve and I had met through Irv Gotti, and I had discussed her possibly appearing on my next album. She walked up full of smiles, “Hey Jigga”.

“What’s good first lady” I said as she approached.

We begin chit chatting when a shorty with a half skirt, bright smile, and beautiful face walked from out of the dressing room. Eve was talking to me, or maybe it was Amile, it didn’t matter because all of my attention was on this woman. Damn, she was fine as hell.

And then it hit me, it was Beyonce, the lead singer of that group Destiny’s Child. I had temporarily forgotten that she was a feature for the song, and although I knew her from that Bills, Bills, Bills song I realized I didn’t know much about her past that. There was only one thing I did know, I had to meet her.

“Yo, tell your girl to come over here” I said to Amil.

She looked irked at my request, she knew what it was about, but she did as I asked. She got Beyonce’s attention and waved her over. Beyonce looked a bit nervous, she was so young looking and shy, like this was brand new to her. She didn’t even look comfortable in her outfit, but she quickly paced her way over and focused her attention on Amil. I couldn’t tell if she hadn’t noticed me, or if she was too nervous to give me eye contact, but she paid me no mind.

Amil looked at a grinning Eve and then at me, “Beyonce, this is Jay-Z. My good friend and the man in charge” she said.

For the first time, Beyonce eyed me, we locked eyes almost instantly as I extended my hand. She didn’t smile at first, but she did extend her hand in shake mines.

“Nice to meet you Jay-Z. I really love your music” she said seriously.

“I’m really feeling your music too” I lied.

Amil could tell what time it was, so she patted me on the back, smiled at Beyonce and said she was going to change. Eve followed her, leaving Beyonce and I face to face, with nothing in particular to talk about. I tried to make small talk.

“It don’t look like you feeling your outfit” I asked.

“It looked cute when I first saw it, but It dont feel cute” she grinned, finally showing her bright smile.

It almost made me melt. We shared an awkward laugh.

“So how is the music biz working out for you?” I asked, trying to keep some sort of convo flowing.

“It’s going good. We Our last single is really big, you ain’t heard?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, um, what’s the joint called again?”

“Say My Name?” she smiled sarcastically, as if I had to be the dumbest nigga in the world.

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s a hot record”.

“I bet” she laughed.

“Well i heard your vocals for this track you are doing with Amil. Hopefully it can be a big single too. We are expecting big things from her” I said.

“Yeah, she is a talented girl. I’m glad I can help out on the project”.

We shared another awkward couple of moments, I couldn’t get over how many butterflies were in my stomach. But I decided I had to snap out of it and get the girls number. With me losing interest in Mya, she would be a great replacement for some new pussy. I tried to remain cool.

“How long you in New York for?”

“Well I’m here with my mom and dad for the shoot. We should be leaving out in two days when it’s over”.

“Well, I’m always looking to collaborate with talented artist, and it’s clear you are that. Here is my number, call me later on tonight or whenever you get a free moment so we can discuss business”.

I pulled out my Rocafella card and a pen, and wrote my personal cell number on the back of it. She looked around, as if she was embarrassed at me doing this in public but she remained still. I handed her the number and she smiled, “Ok, Jay. Thanks, I will give you a call”.

We ended up taking a picture for the photographers and she left to record for the video. I originally had planned to just stop by for Amil and leave, but I ended up watching a few hours of the shoot. I watched Beyonce mostly, move to the beat and I found myself locking eyes with her. She’d look at me from the corner of her eyes and smile, but mostly she would try to ignore me. I knew it wasn’t working because everytime she glanced my way, she started smiling out of nowhere. I found myself smiling back. It was like a middle school back and forth session of smiles and giggles.

I ended up leaving and once getting in my Rover, I turned on the radio and frantically searched the stations. After a few minutes of channel surfing, I found her song Say My Name, it was currently the number one song in the country. And here my slow ass was thinking she was a one hit wonder.

That night I decided to spend a night inside, watching the Godfather, when I got a call. Was it Beyonce? I reached over to my cell and saw a number I didn’t recognize, it had to be her. I answered the phone in an upbeat tone and was shocked by who I heard.

“Hello” I asked.

“Hi, Shawn” the familiar voice, responded.

It was Fannie. I dropped my legs from the lazyboi and stood up. I couldn’t believe I was hearing form her after all of this time of distance.

“Fannie? Damn, how you even get my number?” I asked.

I heard her laugh, “Wow, is that the first thing you say to me after all of these years?”.

I laughed to myself at my rudeness, “I apologize. Damn, I’m just happy as hell to hear from you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good actually. I’m in New York now, my best friend from college had never been to New York before, so I brought her out here to show her around”.

“Where yall at now?”

“Manhattan”.

“How long yall staying?”

“Well we been here for a week already. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. That’s when our flight leaves”.

“And you just now calling me, girl?”

She laughed, “Well I just ran into your brother Eric, by chance. He ended up giving me your number and I decided to speak”.

“Just speak huh? The last time I heard your voice, you was telling me to not talk to you again”.

“Hold on” she said, saying something to a female voice from her end. I figured it was her friend.

I held the phone in my hand and started pacing my living room. God I had missed this girl.

“Ok I’m back. But yeah, we ended on a sour note. I’m sorry about that”.

“No, Stephanie, I am sorry about that. I put the blame on me 100%. I f*cked up”.

“Well, Shawn. It’s in the past. I forgave you in my heart a while ago. I hope you forgave me as well”.

“You know I can’t stay mad at you. In fact, I really wish I could see you tonight. Like, is there anyway I could see you tonight?”

“I don’t know Shawn. I mean, I do have a man and-”

“No strings attached Fannie. I really just would like to see you”.

“I’d like to see you too. But I got my girl here and I don’t want to just leave her at the hotel by herself”.

“You can bring her with you” I said, sounding desperate.

I heard her talking to her friend. I sat quietly and waited.

“Ok, Shawn. We’ll stop by just briefly.”

An hour later, she was at my door with her friend. Her face lit up when she saw me and in turn I picked her little ass up in mid air and gave her a bear hug. Her friend just smiled at the two of us. It really had been too long, way too long for me to be apart from her.

“Damn, Fannie, I have missed you so much”.

I put her down and couldn’t help smiling, I was falling in love all over again. She smiled back.

“I can’t tell with all of them songs you been making like Big Pimping and Hey Papi“.

I let my tongue fall from my mouth as I looked embarrassed. Damn, she still had that effect on me.

“Now you know those songs are just for show”.

She looked at her friend and then back at me, “Uhmmmhmmm”.

“Sorry to be rude, I am Shawn” I said to her friend who seemed enthralled by this entire picture.

“Yes I know. Fannie has told me all about you. I’m Grace” she said, shaking my hand.

I turned to Fannie, “Hmmm. You better had told her good things about me”.

Fannie put her hand on her hip and tilted her head, “Brother, I told her the truth”.

Man I had missed having a woman like her. We eventually took our reunion into the living room as we chatted about old times and laughed with each other. Her friend didn’t do much talking, but she didn’t once seem bored. She listened intensely, hanging on to every detail of our conversation. I couldn’t blame her, Fannie and I had a lot of history.

“Yall girls hungry or something?”

“You can cook?” Grace asked.

“Girl, actually he can. I can’t even front on Shawn’s skills in the kitchen”.

“I’m impressed, but nah we ate before we came” Grace smiled.

The time flew as we sat on the couch and talked, the few minutes they were suppose to visit turned into an hour and then into two. It was just like old times, I felt like I was back in 93 and Fannie and I were enjoying each others company without interference from the outside world. The way she kept looking at me was taking me back, way back, and I couldn’t help wanting us to go back to what we were.

This prompted me to ask a question, something that had been lingering in my head and heart.

“Stephanie, can I talk to you alone?”.

Fannie looked at me with a puzzled expression and then at her friend, who was urging her with her body language to go.

“You guys go talk, I’ll be fine right here. And don’t worry Jay, I won’t snoop into any of your stuff”.

Fannie looked in my eyes and tilted her head. After studying me, she looked at her friend, “I’ll be back”.

Grace smiled, “Take your time, girl”.

I grabbed Fannie’s hand and walked her towards the downstairs guest bedroom. I never used the room, it only consisted of a simple bed and dresser, with bare walls. She always would see my crib needed more of a woman’s touch. I was in need of her touch.

I halfway closed the door and stared into her searching dark brown eyes. I had to just admire her natural beauty for a moment before I spoke,

“I want to just apologize to you face to face, Stephanie. For all of the bullshit I put you through. I really am sorry for all of it”.

She smiled as she heard me apologize, maybe the first time I had ever truly accepted responsibility for my actions and cheating.

“You are forgiven. I apologize for cheating on you too. Two wrongs never make a right”.

“I never thought I’d ever get a chance to tell you I was sorry” I said.

“You know. When I heard your songs about pimping and all of that. I felt insecure, like maybe you were happy that I left. Like relieved or something”.

“Never that. I regretted my actions”.

“Did you ever read my journal?”

“Every word of it. I have it in my closet, still”.

She nodded her head and embarrassingly looked around.

“I see you didn’t change much in here”.

“With you gone, I had no reason to”.

“Come on now. You gonna act like you never had no other girls staying here? Stacy? None of them girls I heard that you had been with?”

“No one ever took your place, Fannie. No one ever will”.

She lowered her shoulders and looked down at the floor, “Shawn, don’t say that to me”.

“What?”

“You know, I am with a man who treats me very well. He’s a good guy. A great guy”.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, I do”.

“Do you love him like you loved me?”

She eyed me with a hint of annoyance at my question, “Shawn that is an unfair question”.

“I don’t see how Fannie. I can admit that I loved Stacy, but I never loved any woman the way I loved you”.

She frowned and took a deep breath, “Why must you do this to me”.

“Do what? Be honest?”

“I knew it would be a bad idea for me to come over here. Rehashing all of these unresolved feelings” she said aloud as if she was talking to herself and not me.

“Look Fannie. I respect your relationship with your man. I don’t want to come between that so if you are uncomfortable here around me, then I will walk you to your car right now”.

She looked at me with sincere glossy eyes, “Shawn I’m not uncomfortable here, that is the problem. This feels so right, being here with you. But I know it’s not”.

I grabbed her hand and brought her close to me. She closed her eyes and we hugged, a hug that we both needed deeply, to hold each other and forget the outside world. She looked up at me and I looked down at her, like gravity, our faces were drawn to each other and we kissed. It was soft, our lips barely touching as we both fought against our cognitive dissonance. Eventually, desire won out as we started kissing with no reserves. She sucked my lips hard, eying me with aggression.

I closed the door all the way as we quickly made our way to the bed to make up for lost time. Our clothes didn’t come off, they evaporated into thin air as we climbed into bed and f*cked intensely, staring into each others eyes, grinding hard, holding each other. We were so caught up in each other and the moment that neither of us bothered to reach for a condom.

She came before I did, digging into my back with her long nails as she screamed. I was positive Grace could hear as she called out for mercy. I came soon after, and we both collapsed into each others arms on the bed. We breathed hard as we tried to catch our breath. I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes. I wanted to drift off to sleep but heard my cell ring on the dresser.

Almost instinctively, she rolled over on her side to allow me to reach the phone. I looked at her and she tilted her head, “Don’t let me stop you” she smiled.

I leaned over and looked at the number. I only gave certain people my personal number, only people I would want to talk to. I didn’t recognize the number and decided to answer just in case it was one of my family members.

“Yo, who dis” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

“Hello? Hey, uh, this is Beyonce. I’m trying to reach Jay-Z?”

Oh shit, i forgot I had told her to call me. With the phone to my head I glanced over at Fannie who was looking at me with suspect eyes.

“Oh, hey, what’s up” I said in a low tone, as if Fannie couldn’t hear.

“Hey, I just called to say hey and see whats up. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“Oh no, you’re good” I lied.

There was a silence on the phone. I shifted in the bed, feeling the tension from in the receiver and on the side of the bed.

“So, what’s up?” I said.

“Nothing really. I’m bored at the hotel, just wanted to speak since you told me to call”.

“Oh, well I’m glad you called. I-”

I felt Fannie move in the bed and then slide out. She was going for her clothes that were sprawled across the floor. Her bra was hanging from the ceiling fan.

“Sorry B. This isn’t the best time, could I call you back?” I said, not wanting Fannie to leave.

“Oh yeah sure. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called this late, I’m really sorry”.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just something came up. Can I call you back on this number?” I said.

“Yeah. This is my personal cell, since you gave me yours I thought I’d call from mine”.

“Ok, cool. I’ll give you a call later” I said as Fannie put her legs in her panties.

“Ok, goodnite”.

I clicked off the phone and hoped out of bed, “Where are you going?”

“Shawn, I shouldn’t be here. I fell for you again against my better judgment. I’m cheating on my man, you’re on the phone with your girlfriend probably and I am over here being a mistress. This isn’t right” she went on while reaching for her bra.

“That wasn’t my girlfriend, Fannie”.

“How many times did you use that line on the girls you were cheating on me with? ” she asked.

“No, I swear. That’s not my girlfriend, I barely even know her” I said stupidly, before realizing how off it sounded.

“Oh is that so. Well whatever she is…to you. It’s obvious she is something because no woman calls a man this late just for chit chat”, she said, adjusting her bra.

“Fannie, no. Let’s not end things like this”.

“Shawn I’m not mad at you. I’ve accepted that this is who you are. I’m more so mad at myself for allowing myself to relapse back into this lifetime. I have a man who treats me with respect and I am here with you doing this. I gotta get out of here, Shawn. I can’t be around you. It’s unhealthy for me”.

Her jeans were on now, and I was putting on my boxers.

“It’s late. Why not just spend the night here? I can buy you some plane tickets for later tomorrow. I just don’t want you to leave so suddenly from out of my life again, Fannie.”

She looked at me and bit her lip, before walking over towards me.

“Shawn, I have to do this for me. If I don’t leave right now, then I won’t ever truly leave this place. I need to move on with my life and you do as well. We both know what we just did was wrong”.

“But I love you”.

“I love you Shawn. That will never, ever, ever change. But that girl on the phone, she probably loves you. Stacy loves you. The girl you f*cked last night loves you, and the night before, and some other girls will fall in love with you at your next show. It’s something I can’t fault you for. I just know I can’t allow myself to be tortured like I was those years back when I would wonder where you were, who you were with, and when you were coming home to me. I can’t allow myself to go back, you know? Can you see at all where I’m coming from?”

I didn’t want to hear her. She had just come back into my life and she was already leaving again. I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to accept any of her logic. I wanted her, I wanted us to be what we were. But as she dressed completely, and opened the door, I felt a part of my heart going with her. I knew she was serious.

Her friend was on the sofa sleeping when she tapped her on the shoulder, waking her suddenly.

“Come on Grace, we are going”.

Grace wiped her eyes and looked around, stopping when she saw me looking pitiful.

“Damn, I thought yall were going to be at it all night” she said.

“Goodbye Shawn. Let’s go Grace” Fannie said as she grabbed her friend, grabbed her purse and begin heading to the door. I stood by the sofa and just watched, they opened the door and Grace walked out. Fannie stopped, and looked back towards me. She looked towards the ground and sighed, before making her way back towards me and giving me a long and hard hug. We embraced as if it would be the last time, truly the last time we’d ever hold each other.

“I love you” she whispered.

I didn’t respond, just held her and tried to keep the tears that were filling my eyes from coming down. I didn’t want to let her go, I held tight, refusing to let her go. But when I felt her stop hugging me, I came to my senses and let go, stepping back and straightening up my face. I looked her over one good time and she turned around and walked out the door. I walked to the door and saw her already in the car, cranked up and backing out of my driveway. She was gone.

I went back inside and into the guest room, staring at the ruffled bed spread and sheets. I then glanced over at the phone laying in the dresser. I was lonely, I wanted someone to hold, someone to kiss, someone to help me get over the pain I was feeling inside after having lost Fannie again. I thought about calling Beyonce and convincing her to come through for some easy sex and escapism.

And that is exactly what I did as I paced across my living room and thought to myself. I wasn’t necessarily horny, hell I had just had great sex with Fannie. But I was feeling needy and insecure, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Beyonce was a new hit r&b chick and I was sure it wouldn’t take much actual effort to get her ass over to my crib. I figured she was the shy, star struck type, based on the way she smiled at me on the video shoot earlier.

And since she had called me the same day, it had to mean she was down. I hit mute on the TV and begin calling her, taking a deep breath as I heard each ring. Five rings later, her voice was on the line as a voice message. Damn, now she wasn’t answering.

“Leave a message” was all she said followed by a beep.

“Hey Beyonce, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to chat earlier. Hope you found something to cure that boredom” I laughed.

“Anyway, hopefully we can talk some other time. Take care”, and I hung up.

I had a phone list full of beautiful women that I could have called over, getting women to give me their pussy was never a problem. But when Beyonce didn’t answer, I didn’t even feel the desire to have anyone else in my presence. I instead went over to my stereo system, flipped through the rack and found the song that was Fannie’s favorite for a long time. It was LL Cool J’s I Need Love.

As the music played, I thought about the lyrics and connected to them more than I had ever connected to a hip hop record in years. And although Fannie was who I had in mind when I listened to the song play on repeat, Beyonce was the chick I ended up dreaming about once I drifted off to sleep. I woke up that morning laughing to myself, not actually believing that I had dreamed about a chick I didn’t know. I turned off the stereo which was still on repeat and tried to remember the dream. I couldn’t remember anything aside from me kissing her. It was funny how dreams worked and how sometimes you could only remember bits and pieces. The bit that I did remember actually put a smile on my face as I stretched and yawned.

I went to make myself a bowl of cereal and when i returned to the living room I saw that i had a missed call and a new message.

“Sorry I missed your call last night, I fell alseep. Hope I catch you soon, bye”.

Damn, I was only in the kitchen for a few minutes and had missed her call. I thought about giving her a call right back but decided against it. I didn’t want to seem desperate or anything. I decided I’d call her the next day but when I did all I got was her voice mail again.

“Seems as if we are playing phone tag. I’ll be watching my phone like a hawk, waiting for your next call” I laughed on my message.

She called me the next day, but I was in the middle of an important meeting for a club I was looking to open up. I wanted to answer, but with tens of millions of dollars on the table, I clicked ignore and focused in on what the lawyers were telling me. After an hour, i stepped outside to check my voice mail.

“You make a lousy hawk” she laughed before hanging up.

Damn, it was becoming like a game now. And a game it became as for the next 2 weeks we played phone tag with each other, leaving messages on each others voice mail every other day. I couldn’t tell if she was intentionally missing my calls just to see how many times I’d call before losing interest, but I had trouble all of these missed calls was a coincidence.

The first week, I actually had been busy and couldn’t take her calls when they came, but the second week I purposely let it go to my voice mail just to see what quirky and witty message she would come up with; her messages made me laugh.

“Hey Jay. It’s your grandmother. Why come you ain’t call me” she said in a fake but hilarious elderly voice before she cracked up.

“Hit me up Mr. Carer” she said in her regular voice before hanging up.

I cracked up a few times listening to that message.

Eventually she got fed up with with us always missing each other and she shot me a text message. I was still new to texting, but over the next few weeks I became a pro at it.

Received 2:33 PM: I Guess it aint meant 4 us 2 talk :(

Sent 2:36 PM: I think its destiny

Received 2:37 PM: lol

Sent 2:39 PM: How bout i call u rite now

Received 2:44 PM: i’m bout to do a interview

Sent 2:45 PM: 4 who?

Received 2:49: MTV Ananda Lewis

Sent 2:50 PM: I’m watching now, smile 4 me

Received 2:51 PM: :)

I sat in front of the TV in my office and waited for the TV show host to bring Destiny’s Child on stage for the interview. When she did, the crowd absolutely erupted. I was really beginning to see how big she was getting. R&B has always belonged to Mary J since I had been in the music business. It was seeming as if these girls were about to take her spot.

I had to admit, I was impressed. Every woman I had seriously dated or pursued was someone that I could keep out of the spotlight. It was becoming clear to me, if me and this woman were to ever link up, that would be impossible.

My thoughts were soon interrupted when Nelly, one of the hottest rappers at the time came on stage to chat it up with them. He sat down next to Beyonce after bringing them some Popeyes chicken. The hell? Popeyes? When she said that she loved Popeyes I burst into laughter. Was this serious?

I then begin to grow a little uncomfortable seeing him around her. Ever since Vida, I had become jealous of girls I liked being around other dudes. It was a insecurity of mine, and even though Beyonce and I were barely even associates, I felt jealous. I wondered how they met, if they ever kicked it, and even worst, had he ever hit it? I had to pull myself out of my hating session and keep my composure. I decided to send her a text.

Sent 3:28 PM: Popeyes huh?

Before I could finish the segment, I got a call from my secretary who reminded me I had a meeting in a few minutes. I took one final look at the screen and waited for my smile. She smiled the entire time, so I couldn’t tell if she had actually sent that special smile just for me. I laughed to myself and cut the TV.

I had to get my mind right to discuss numbers, but after an hour in the meeting, I felt my phone vibrant in my pants pocket. I had to consciously stop myself from going for it because I was sure it was her responding to my text.

“Jay, you listening?” my lawyer said, bringing me back to my senses.

“Yeah, I’m listening. Keep going” I said, chiding myself for thinking about that stupid text instead of paying attention to the 10 million dollar deal that we were discussing.

I forced myself to focus soley on the meeting and after it was done, I had temporarily forgotten about the text. I met up with TyTy and we ended up going to a party Dash had set up for his newly signed artists. Dame and I had really been having our differences around this time, he was more out there than I was. Plus, he was signing artist I never signed off on. His newest artist was a Harlem rapper named Camron.

I chatted it up with Cam briefly at the party and the thing I immediately noticed was how conceited he was. He was speaking with me as if he would eventually be the best selling artist on the Roc, as if he was the thing we had been missing. And along with his cockiness, he brought along a crew of his friends who called themselves the Diplomats. It seemed as if Dash was going to sign them all as artist to the label I had equal stock in.

I tried to chat with Dash at the party, but he was sipping on something and was too busy dancing and enjoying the party scene to take it serious. I stayed for a few hours, smiled, and left. I waited outside for my limo and felt my pants pocket vibrate again.

I had two new text messages, both of them from Ms Beyonce. The limo pulled up and I hoped in anxious to read how smart alec reply to my text message. TyTy was saying something to me but I wasn’t paying him any attention.

Received 4:56 PM: lol don’t tell me u 2 good for popeyes

Received 9:30 PM: Am I not classy enuff cuz i like chicken :(

I quickly thought of a response.

Sent 11:37 PM: Nah….. I know where 2 take ur ass on our first date now lol

Received 11:39 PM: lol, call me

I looked at Ty, who was checking his own cell phone with a sly smile on his face. I hadn’t told anyone about Beyonce yet and I didn’t want anyone to know yet, not even my best friend. I wanted to be alone when I talked to her so I wouldn’t have to speak around our conversation.

Sent 11:40 PM: Im out right now. Can i call in 45 mins?

Received 11:41 PM: I mite be sleep

Sent 11:43 PM: Stay up…pleeeeease

Received: 11:45 PM: I will try…my eyes are feelin heavy

“Driver, step on it” I ordered.

I made it home it home in half an hour. I stepped in the door, took off my tie and jacket and let it fall to the floor. I grabbed my phone and was calling her cell before I even made it to the living room. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, until i was at her answering machine. Damn, I had missed her yet again.

“Maybe you were right and it’s not meant for us to speak” I said, “Hope you have a good rest, night”.

I cleaned myself up my bathroom and laid for for sleep after a long day. The next few months remained roughly the same. B and I were too busy to have many phone conversations, especially because we didn’t want anyone to know that we were communicating. We didn’t want the publicity that came with it. We we kept most of our chit chat through text, one day even sending 50 or so text between us.

I leaned a good deal about her, such as her birthday, favorite foods, favorite kind of music, and things like that.

Sent 12:23 PM: I bought ur album today. Its hot

Received 12:40 PM: Thanks :). I been listening to ur music alot 2

Sent 12:48 PM: We gotta collab

Received 12:51 PM: I’m down wenever u r. I’ve done lots of collabs with rappers

Sent 1:02 PM: Who are ur fav rappers?

Received 1:10 PM: Hmm…I like Nelly, 2pac, Ja Rule, Nas, alot of ppl

Sent 1:12 PM: U didn’t say me :(

Received 1:15 PM: And of course…Jay Z :)

Sent 1:18 PM: lol, gotta run. chat with u later

I was going to spend the day with my nephew, it was one of the few days I had free to myself. We ended up playing basketball with each other for a few hours, something I needed to clear my head. When I left, I ended up thinking about Fatherhood and how I was in my 30′s and still had not had a child. I thought about Fannie and the child we had aborted. The child would have been 6 or 7 years old.

I felt regret thinking about it and as the thoughts lingered, so did my desire to talk to Fannie. I had called her a few times since I had last seen her, but she didn’t answer. The last time I called, her phone had been disconnected. It seems she was serious about separating herself from me.

Little did she know, her attempt to cut lose ties were nothing to me. Taj had taught me many things down south, one of them was how to use public records. All it took was a few phone calls and I had Fannie’s new phone number and new address. The house was under her new mans name, and after doing a quick background check on him, I saw that he was a social worker. The crib they bought was not even a 10th of the price of my home.

I couldn’t understand why she had decided to sleep with me one night and then never have anymore contact with me. There had to be something still there, there just had to be. I put her new number in my cell and decided I would give her a call when the time was right.

December 4, 2000

I spent my birthday with my family over at my mothers crib. Eric had been by earlier but had went to his shop, but Mickey, Annie, and the kids were all over. My mom had cooked and we even exchanged a few Christmas gifts because I would be out of the country around Christmas. I was enjoying myself, until Annie brought up something that I had been avoiding.

“Shawn, are you ever gonna call daddy?” she asked.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, your father has been asking about you” my mother echoed.

“What he got to say ma?” I said,

“He just wants to see you. Eric went to see him last month and your sisters and I have visited him a few times. He’s really not doing too good” my mother responded.

“Ma, I really dont have anything to say to him”.

“Shawn, I get that you are mad. But he walked out on more than just you. We all had to just get over it” Mickey said.

“I’m over it” I barked.

“No you aren’t. If you were, you would be ok with at least calling him” Mickey barked back.

I remained silent. I really didn’t have to take this from them. They didn’t understand how I felt and I didn’t owe them an explanation.

“Shawn. Your sisters don’t mean any harm. We really do just think you should at least call him. Doesn’t have to be a long convo or anything. Just let him hear your voice…it’s been 20 years”.

I looked at them and saw the genuine concern in their eyes. Hell, maybe they were right. Maybe it would be healthy for me to talk to him. Maybe I needed it as much as he did.

A week later, before I was set to take my trip to Europe, I made the trip over to his apartment in New Jersey. My dad had remarried at one point, but the lady he remarried had left him. Since then, he became an alcoholic and drug user and it eventually took it’s toll on his body. He was a sick man, with various issues that doctors were saying would claim his life any day now.

When I visited his small one bedroom apartment I felt like a kid all over again. He answered the door in his wheelchair and smiled a weak smile when he saw me. A small smile followed by a hard, ugly, cough. The apartment was smaller than my master bedroom and was a mess, I wondered how he even got around.

I said hey, or something, and sat down on the sofa. I looked around and saw that he had some pictures up of Eric, the girls, and I when we were smaller. The pictures had dust on them which meant they had been up for awhile now. I looked at him and asked him how he was doing, but all he could muster were coughs and one word responses. This man was sick, very sick, and seeing him this way was getting to me.

After all of this time of hating him, blocking him from my thoughts and removing his presence from my psyche, I felt overwhelmed by the dormant emotions that were returning. I loved this man and seeing him so broken was a shot to my system. I felt nauseous.

I could tell my dad was feeling similar emotions, because he started to breath heavy as if he wanted to cry. I wondered if his body was even capable of producing tears. He didn’t cry, but he kept breathing hard and grabbed my hand. His hands were ashy and rough, with yellow-brown fingernails but I held his strong grip as if it was priceless.

After moments of our embrace, I think the fact that we were both men eventually overtook us as we let go. No words were exchanged as I turned to the television and saw that the Jeffersons were on. For the next few hours, I sat with him and watched old Sitcoms. He eventually dozed off, with a smile on his face. He had looked like it was painful for him to be alive, as if even breathing hurt, so I was happy to see him at peace.

I kissed my old man on the forehead and left, immediately calling one of my advisers so he could check on retirement homes. While I was in Europe, I made the moves and completed the paperwork to send my dad to an expensive, high quality, condominium-like home where he’d receive 24 hour care in comfort and style.

Spring 2001

“What the f*ck did you tell her Stacy?” I yelled while standing in her face.

“I told her to stop messing with you” she said, in a timid voice.

I couldn’t believe it, what the hell was this woman thinking.

“Stacy. Are you f*cking crazy?”

“Shawn I’m sorry. I saw the text you two had been sending and I flipped. I’m sorry, baby. It’s hard to accept that you have been seeing Beyonce Knowles of all people”.

“Stacy, it’s none of your damn business who i see or talk to to f*ck. You know the arrangement we got. I’m not your husband. I cannot believe you called this woman and cursed her out” I said.

“I didn’t really curse her out. I just told her to stop f*cking my man”.

I took a deep breath to compose myself, I was this close to losing it.

“What did she say?” I demanded.

“She said she was sorry and that she wouldn’t text you anymore”.

I grabbed my cell phone from Stacy, who had been snooping when she found out that I was texting back and forth with B. I hadn’t slept with her, hell we had never even hung out before, but Stacy’s insecure ass had now completely turned into the jealous, possessive chick that I despised. This was the last straw, me and her were dead.

“Shawn I am sorry. Please, please, please, forgive me. I was stupid”.

“Stace. Get your sh*t, and get the hell out” I said calmly.

“Shawn Ple-”

“Get. The. F*ck. Out” I repeated, this time more aggressive.

Stacy was now on her knees begging for me to forgive her. We had shared a lot of history over the years, but as I saw her beg for me forgiveness and how she could have just ruined any chance of Beyonce and I kicking it, I realized how much I didn’t love her. If I loved her, I would have married her years ago. But I knew, she wasn’t the one for me, she would always remain a side.

“Stacy. I’m leaving. When I come back tonight. All of your sh*t, as well as you, better be out of my crib. I’m not playing”.

I left, went driving for a few hours calling and texting Beyonce, who didn’t answer or reply to either. I eventually went to the club to blow off some steam and when I came home, my house was a mess. Furniture was damaged, picture frames broken and everything. Stacy had finally shown me who she really was.

I went to the ripped up sofa and flopped down thinking about how f*cked up my love life was. Plenty of girls, but none of them with any substance. None of them made me feel the way Fannie had. The only one that intrigued me enough to pursue was Beyonce, and now she wasn’t even trying to talk to me. I decided to call one more time, but this time leave a message if she didn’t answer.

I called and it went right to voice mail.

“Bee, I’m sorry about what happened earlier today. The girl who called you is a liar. I’m not her man and you are not a mistress, or whatever she tried to say. Please call me or text me so we can talk”.

I waited and waited and never got a response. It seemed as if that relationship was dead. I would have liked to repair what damage Stacy had done, but I had other things to worry about. Beyonce was cool and all, but something else was popping off that would soon require my undivided attention.

Prodigy from Mobb Deep had spoken out against me in an interview, calling me a pussy, and some other things that caught me completely off guard. Apparently, he felt some of my rhymes were aimed at him. I had some dirt of Prodigy and had decided to go at him at Summerjam, a New York Hip Hop concert sponsored by Hot 97.

I knew that by going at Mobb Deep, a crew that was from Nas’ hood, that it would also be an open invitation for Nas to attack and come to their aid. Although Nas and I had been sending disses back and forth for years, none of us had ever mentioned the others name. I had been waiting for him to make the first move and mention my name, but I had a new plan in mind. I was going to diss Mobb Deep, Prodigy specifically for talking down on me, and then invite Nas to come in.

I figured by issuing the challenge, I’d have the upperhand. He would have to say something, otherwise he’d look like a pussy. He was already falling off, with his last two albums getting negative reviews and I was on the come up with my albums getting critical and commercial success. If I dissed them and they didn’t respond, I’d win and be crowned the official King of NY. If they did respond, well hey, I could always reveal to the world my little rendezvous with Nas baby moms.

It was win win for me either way, I was going to be crowned the King of New York. But I was going to give Nas the illusion that he’d have a say. I had heard from a few associates that Carmen had revealed to Nas that she’d slept with me, but I knew the public didn’t know for sure. I had the man right where I wanted, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I was going to apply the pressure.

I had visions of what i wanted to do, but I needed the right track to spit my venom. Kane West and Just Blaze were my two in house producers that I could depend on, and after Kanye had proven to be how dope he could be on my last album, I went to him with a request.

“Ye, I need you to bring some heat for Summerjam. I need your absolute best beat”.

Kanye scratched his head and then starting grinning. He was loving the opportunity.

“Give me a few days. I’ll have your heat” he smiled.

I gave him pound and two days later was in the studio with him anxious to hear the beat he said would officially make me the King. What I heard, blew me away.

It sampled one of my favorite records growing up, Five to One by the Doors, and better than I could have ever anticipated. As I listened to the numerous beat-breaks and “Taking over” sample, I nodded my head so hard that my next started to hurt. Kanye nodded with me and laughed.

“You like?” he grinned, cracking his knuckles.

“Nigga, you are a f*cking genius” I responded.

I went in the booth and quickly recorded two verses. I never mentioned Nas’ name but I did mention Mobb Deep and Prodigy. I was sure when I performed this at Summerjam, it would be the official shot that kicked off this war. It would be a once in a lifetime performance.

May 2001

I had been so busy business and my domestic life that I had yet to even record one track for my next album that was set to be released in September. I had full creative control over the album so i didn’t have to submit it to anyone for approval and I could set my own release dates, so this was nothing to me. But it was starting to aggravate Dash.

Dash wanted a smash record, and with me not recording for the album, he feared that I was wasting time and wouldn’t come through with a solid record.

“Don’t worry, man. I got this. 3 times Plat, guaranteed” I laughed.

Dash shook his head and grinned, “If you say so Boss. But for making my sweat, I want 4 times plat”.

To ease his mind, I decided to devout the next few weeks to my album. I went to the studio with a pillow, and had Kanye and Just Blaze cancel anything they had planned. We were going to lock ourselves in the studio and make a classic album. The album that would be my coming out party as the King. I would show the hip hop world how it was done, and fittingly I named my project The Blueprint.

Seeing Kanye and Blaze so hungry on the boards helped to ignite the fire in me. They were hungry for greatness and gave me the best beats they had, and I in turn gave them some of the best flows I had. They wanted to bring soul back to the radio so most of their beats had samples. Hip Hop had started to sour on sampling and instead was using synthesizers and fruity loops to craft their records, but Blaze and Ye wanted to keep it old school.

Each time I stepped in the booth to record, I sensed that a classic was in the making. I felt the magic in the air, I could taste it. Because of this, we were putting the finishing touches on the album in less than 3 weeks. I was also sure I had at least three hits, one for the clubs, one for the ladies, and one for the streets.

To celebrate the greatness that was the completion of the album, we all decided to hit the club and pop bottles. Ty, Dash, Bleak, Cam, Sigel, Kanye, Amil, and limo full of dimes all came with me to the club to celebrate. We bought the bar and hit up VIP where all types of celebrities and ball players showed up.

Although the party was live, there was still something inside of me that was feeling dead. The lights begin hypnotizing me and everything was moving in slow motion. I heard people talking with me, laughing with me, joking with me, and everything, but I felt like I was in the room alone. I felt as if I was having an out of body experience, watching myself politick with all of these people.

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that was pulling me away from the VIP section, but I followed my instincts and left to go get some fresh air outside. On my way out, I passed hundreds of starting women, all wishing they had even a moment to get with me, but it was one that caught my eye.

It was Kelly from Destiny’s Child who was just making her way in with a small entourage. I had chatted with her a few times when Beyonce and I had been talking, so we had a casual association. With Beyonce ignoring me and Kelly being one of her closest friends, I figured she could be my key to reclaiming a line of communication with her.

I made me way over to where she was and pretended to accidentally bump into her.

“Hey Jay” she excitedly said when she saw who had nearly knocked her over.

“Oh whats good Kelly. How you doing?” I responded with matching excitement.

“I’m doing great. Just came out since your party is the hottest thing in the city” she smiled.

“Well, your beauty just made it hotter” I grinned.

She laughed hard and then turned to her girls who were smiling as well, “You are something else Jay”.

“I see Kelly from Destiny Child is in the house yall! I see you Jay!” The DJ said, prompting even more eyes to venture towards us.

Aww, shit here we go. This is how rumors get started, I motioned for her to follow me to VIP and pointed at the DJ, grinning.

I made sure Kelly and her people were good with their drinks and then sat by her to try and pry some information out.

“So how is everything?”

“It’s good, real good. Working hard on our next album. It should be really hot”.

“Honestly, anything yall girls put out is hot so I’m definitely expecting something great” I responded.

She smiled at my words, sipped her drink, and then eyed me hard.

“So Jay, what are you really wanting to know” she smiled.

I laughed, knowing my small talk was so obvious.

“How’s Beyonce doing?” I said.

She rolled her eyes and then laughed, “She’s at the hotel right now. Said she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to come to the club. But you should give her a call” she said.

“She won’t answer my call”.

“Keep trying. A woman likes persistence”.

“What’s the difference between being persistent and being a bugaboo?” I grinned.

She laughed hard.

“Damn that’s a good one. But I’ll say the difference is with one, the girl actually likes the dude and the other one she doesn’t”.

“So you saying she likes me?”

“I’m not saying anything, thats for you to find out Big Pimpin”.

“Well could you at least tell her that I have been thinking about her?” I asked.

Kelly smiled, took another sip of her drink and stood up.

“I’m not going to see Bee tonight, but her publicist Tracy will be staying with her at the hotel. So tell her to give Bee the message. Ima about to hit the dance floor though”.

She gave me a knowing smile and gave eye contact at one of the girls, to let me know which one Tracy was. She then touched my hand and made her way down to the dance floor; her bodyguard followed her.

I turned my attention to her entourage and then at the one she had let me know was Beyonce’s publicist. There was something about the girl that was staring at me, she looked familiar. I spoke and as the words were leaving my mouth, I knew why she she looked familiar. Tracy, how could I forget? The girl that had interned at Rocafella when we first got started. The girl I had made to give Memphis Bleek head so she could get a non-paying job with us.

She, of all people, was now Beyonce’s publicist? How in the hell could I ever live this down? I was completely, utterly, and royally screwed, I thought as looked at her eying me with disgust.

“Hey” she said with a clear attitude.

“How are you doing?” I asked, not really knowing what to say to her.

She didn’t say anything. The other girls looked curious at her, probably wondering why she was giving me so much attitude. Me and her both knew why and the reality of it had my stomach in knots. Had she told Beyonce what I did to her? Had she advised her to not f*ck with me? Maybe this was why she wasn’t returning any of my calls.

It was starting to make sense now, and I couldn’t even blame Beyonce for not wanting to f*ck with me after the lowlife move I had made almost a decade ago. I stood up, ready to leave, figuring I had blown any chance I had at all with Beyonce, but Tracy stood up, catching me off guard. The rest of the girls stood up and Memphis Bleek begin making his way toward our direction with a bottle to his face. He was clearly one sip away from being wasted. He looked over in our direction.

“I’ll tell Beyonce you are trying to get in contact with her” Tracy said to the point, in a very dry tone.

I looked at her and tried to gauge what it meant, if she was being serious or not. I didn’t get any disingenuous vibes from her tone or facial expression. Maybe this was her way of rising past personal problems with me and being professional, I didn’t know. But I looked in her eyes and tried to apologize through mine.

“Thank you Tracy. I really appreciate it” I softly said.

She rolled her eyes at me and motioned for her girls to follow her to the dance floor. Bleek was now at my arm, watching the girls walk away.

“Why that b*tch looking stank in the face” he asked, drunkenly.

“You don’t remember her?” I asked him.

He looked hard and squished his face like he was taking a shit.

“Nah I dont. Who dat?”

“Don’t worry about it” I said shaking my head, making my way over to the bar to get me a drink.

I felt terrible the rest of the night.

June 10 2001

While putting the final production touches on the album, Kanye also let me hear some of the leftover tracks he had produced. I had first dibs on all of them, but with me passing on them, he was going to give the rest to other Rocafella artist like Bleek, Beans, and Camron. While he let them play, I heard a track that he had played for me before.

The first time I heard it, I had quickly shot it down, stating that it was too r&b ish for me. This time around though, it was sounding poignant, I immediately had to hear the rest of it.

“Yo, play that last track again” I said to Kanye, who had skipped past it.

“You said this was too soft” he replied.

“I know, I know, but run it back”.

He played the track for me and I sat down in my chair, closed my eyes, and zoned out. I think I listened to the instrumental five or six times on repeat before I told Ye I was going to get a soda from the vending machine. I got the soda, and then walked into a private office to make that call to Fannie that I had been holding off on for months.

I felt butterflies in my belly, but I had to talk to her. This would be now or never in our on-off again relationship. Our love story would either end with a period right now, or keep going with a comma. I called her and anxiously waited for her to answer.

“Hello” she said.

“Hey” I responded.

“Shawn?”

“Yeah, it’s me Fan. How you been” I asked, twiddling my thumbs.

“Oh my God” she said, sounding shocked, “How did you get this number?”

“That the first thing you say to me after all of this time?”

“Yes” she said bluntly.

That didn’t turn out the way I had figured it would.

“Stephanie, I just wanted to call you and see how you have been doing. You just left here that night and never even called to let me know you made it home safe or nothing”.

“Shawn you know if something happened to me my mom would let you know”.

“How is your mom doing?”

I heard Fannie sigh.

“She is doing good Shawn, but please don’t belabor the point. Why are you calling me?”

“If I would have known I’d be met with so much hostility, I wouldn’t have called”.

“I don’t mean to be rude Shawn, I am happy to hear your voice and everything. But you are calling my home out of the blue and…well…it’s f*cking with me a little. Like hey how you doing is casual for us”.

“Are we that damaged where we can’t even call to say hey, how you doing?”

“Last time it happened….proved that we can’t” she said.

“Fannie, that was something that just happened. You are thousands of miles away right now. This is just a simple phone conversation”.

“Shawn nothing is simple with us. You know damn well you could pay for a private jet ride and I’d be at your front door step in an hour. Our distance apart is nothing”.

“You make it sound like it would be the absolute worst thing in the world”.

She remained silent, and then I heard the sound of a baby in the background. Baby? Was this her child?

“Fannie what’s that? In the background?”

“My son” she said.

“Son? Since when did you become a mom?”

“Since my son came out of my vagina”.

“Whose baby is it?”

“My fiances” she said quickly.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely positive. I was pregnant the last time I saw you, Shawn”.

Oh damn. I didn’t realize.

“Wow. I don’t know what to say”.

“How bout congrats?”

“Congrats”.

“Thank you” she said.

We shared our first brief laugh of the conversation. It was an awkward laugh, but one that was much needed. It helped to bring down the tone of the conversation. She told me about how motherhood had been for her and how her and her man was engaged to be married later this year. It seemed as if she was doing well for herself, she was in her mid 30′s and was finally getting her wish to be a wife and mother. I regretted not being able to provide that for her.

“Fannie, I am happy for you, for real” I said.

“Thank you Shawn. Your words do mean a lot to me”.

“What’s your sons name?”

“Christian. I named him after his daddy”.

“I see”.

There was an awkward silent. I looked at the wall and popped the soda can, taking a sip.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. I finally got a chance to open up a shelter for women. Christian and I finally got it up and running earlier this year”.

“That’s wonderful. You are really doing big things in life” I said.

“Yeah, well I got that entrepreneur spirit from you. I didn’t have a degree so after being rejected so many times from different shelters, I figured, what the hell. Why not start my own?”.

“That’s really incredible, Fannie. I’m glad you are finally able to do the thing you love most, help people”.

Baby Christian started crying loudly which forced Fannie to put me on hold as she did whatever mothers do to make babies stop crying. After a few moments, the line was silent again, and Fannie was back on the phone.

“How you make him stop?” I grinned.

“You don’t wanna know”.

“Nah I do, i’m asking ain’t I?”

“I’m feeding him” she said, before giggling softly to herself.

Her laugh signaled to me that she was actually breast feeding, which promoted a laugh from me as well. Damn, it also made me start thinking about her breast and how much I had loved sucking them and playing with them. She was a short petite girl, but she had large natural breast that looked out of place on her frame.

We shared a knowing laugh for a moment, sighing as the laugh wore off.

“I’m glad you called, Shawn” she eventually said.

“I’m glad you answered”.

“If I knew it was you, I wouldn’t have answered” she said.

I laughed.

“Stephanie, I know this is going to sound like bullshit but it’s really not. This is really not as bad as it’s going to sound” I  said, giving her a disclaimer.

“Oh oh. What is it” she said.

“Is there any chance, any possible chance, that I can see you one last time before you tie the knot?”

I heard the phone move abruptly, and then complete silence. Had she hung up on me?

“Hello”

“I’m here Shawn. Had to adjust myself”.

“Did you hear what I asked?”

“Yes I heard you”.

“Well?” I asked.

“Shawn, why do you wanna see me?”

“I miss you. I’d like to just spend a weekend with you, no strings attatche-”

“Shawn, stop the bullshit. If you are going to be real, then be real. Stop with the no strings attached shit”.

She was right, I had to come correct.

“Ok Fannie. I want to have one more moment with you. I want to bring you down, kiss you, hold you, make love to you, smell your hair. I just need to see you one more time before you are forever gone from me. It’s so difficult being away from you”.

“Our last encounter didn’t give you any closure?”

“No. It only made me want you more”.

“And if I came again, you think it would give you closure?”

“Yes”.

She remained silent, which to me was a good thing. If she was pondering the possibility then maybe there was a chance. A slow yes instead of a quick no was all I needed.

“Shawn, I heard a song of yours called Is That Your Chick. Who was that about?”

What the hell? Where was this coming from.

“What?”

“The song. It’s a remix from Memphis Bleek. You talk about f*cking some mans girl. Who is it about?”

“It’s about nobody. Not you, or anyone. It’s just a concept song” I responded.

There was silence, and then I heard her son making noise in the background. After a few more moments, I heard a small burp. I took the last sip from my soda and awaited her response.

“No, Shawn. You can’t see me” she said simply.

“Why?”

“Nothing good would come from it”, she said.

“Nothing good?”

“I mean aside from the sex and everything. I’m talking about nothing healthy would come from me seeing you”.

“Fannie, no one would have to know. Just one weekend” I tried to plead.

“Shawn, no. Christian was already told by my mother that I use to date you and he’s already insecure about it. I couldn’t tell him I was going to New York randomly for a weekend. He’d have a fit”.

“Then I’ll come to Virginia”, I offered.

“Shawn. The answer is NO! I can’t have that on my conscious. I have chosen who I want to be with”.

“Do you love him?” I said, trying to play that game.

“Yes. To death”.

“Look Fannie, if you tell me right now that you don’t love me anymore then I will leave you alone. I just get the feeling that you are punishing yourself when deep inside you still are very much in love with me and want to be with me. I’d take care of you and your son, you know that. And if you can tell me right now, that you don’t love me. I’ll hang up right now and send you a wedding gift”.

There was an eerie nothingness coming from the other line. She was clearly pondering what to say, how to say it, and what it would mean.

I pulled the pop top off the soda can and started playing with it. Her indecision to answer was killing me.I thought about her smile, the smell of her perfume, the way she kissed me and held me all of those nights where I came home from being rejected from yet another record label. She always had me back, how could she turn her back on me now? How could she turn down my offer? She just had to accept it.”Shawn….I love my family. I love my life the way it is. And I love my fiance. I’m marrying Christian. I love him”.I didn’t immediately respond. My brain was having difficulty comprehending the meaning of her words. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. So this was it? This was how it was going to end? This was how our love story would die? Over the phone while I played with an empty soda can. This was it?”So, it ends like that?” I asked.”Like that. Goodbye Shawn”.

And like that, she hung up. I felt tempted to call her back, but stopped myself. My ego and pride was too large to beg for her. So kill the temptation, I went in my phone and deleted her contact information, but not before I called around and sent a large donation to her Shelter down in Virginia.

I then deleted the number, walked slowly back to the studio and told Kanye to pull that beat back up. I ended up rapping off the top, from my head and heart. I referenced many of the girls I had known over the years, but it was really about Fannie. I wasn’t going to let myself cry about the situation with Fannie, but I could let the song cry, and that is exactly what I named the last track I recorded for my album.

June 15, 2001

Beyonce still had been ignoring my attempts to get in contact with her but I did get a sign of hope when Kelly sent me a text saying that she has asked about me about that night at the club. Apparently, Beyonce was feeling a little jealous.

Sent 7:44 PM: Wat did she say?

Received 7:46 PM: She heard from some fool that u were tryna push up on me at ur party

Sent 7:50 PM: da hell?

Received 7:53 PM: I kno rite…

Sent 8:00 PM: Well did u let her kno dat it wasn’t true?

Sent 8:56 PM: ?

Received 9:23 PM: Sorry bout that…but yea i told her u were just tryna reach her. but speaking of the devil, she is on her way to da hotel with me right now…

Sent 9:25 PM: lol, tell her to holla at a nigga

Received 9:29 PM: smh, Bey is frontin so hard…acting like she don’t wanna talk to u. I’m tired of both of yall, so hold up real quick…

I waited for a few minutes and Kelly was calling me on my cell. I picked up on the forth ring, “Whats good?”

“Ok, ima have you on threeway and call her so you can see for yourself how sprung she is over you. She is probably going to be mad at me but I’m tired of being the middle man for yall. Yall need to work this out”.

“Ok, but let her know this is your idea not mine. Shit, i’m already in the doghouse”.

She laughed, “Hold on..and don’t say anything”.

I stayed quiet and cut down my TV so it wouldn’t cause any interference. I felt like I was back in high school, but being that I was dealing with two girls barely out of High School, I guess it didn’t surprise me. The phone only ring once, and Beyonce was on the line.

“Hey, ima be there in like 10 mins. We are at the gas station”, she said.

“Aight. Bring me some funions then” Kelly said.

Beyonce giggled, “Ok”, she said sarcastically.

“Anyway, Bee, so tell me again why you don’t want to talk to Jay? You know you like him” Kelly said.

Hmmm, I was beginning to like this plan Kelly had in mind. Seems I was going to get to be a fly on the wall.

“Like I told you through text. That man has way too many women for me to be trying to deal with him. Uh uh. Plus, I told you how this one girl called me, cussing me out. Nah, too much drama”.

“But you also told me he let you know he was single, right?”

“Yeah, but Kelly I don’t believe him. I mean you can listen to his music and know he only plays games”.

“Well since you got him so figured out, how come you were jealous when you thought he was talking to me?” Kelly pressed.

I tried to contain my laughter.

“Girl I was not jealous. Just thought it would be real messed up if he tried to get with you after trying to get with me”.

“Bee, you are such a liar. You were giving me attitude the entire day as if I f*cked the man”.

“Did you?” Beyonce asked.

“NO!” she responded, laughing.

“Well”.

“Well what?” Kelly asked.

“Well I don’t know. I’m trying to stay out of the tabloids. Talking with him would cause too many headlines, and you know how my daddy is”.

“Bee, like you told me when you first started texting him. Nobody has to know. You know my lips would be sealed”.

“Yeah I know but still”, there was a pause, “Kelly, why do you want me to hook up with him so bad anyway?” Beyonce asked.

Kelly laughed, “Because I know you really like him. And the way he been buggabooing me the past few weeks, I know he likes you too. I think it would be the cutest thing seeing yall at least talk to see where it goes”.

“I don’t know…” Beyonce said, unsure of the conversation.

“Plus, I’m tired of you complaining about not getting no action. Toys only go so far” Kelly laughed.

Beyonce laughed with her, “Kelly, I will see your ass in a few minutes”.

One of them hung up and after a few seconds, Kelly spoke.

“See. She likes you. She just ain’t trying to get hurt and be put on blast in the media, ya know? So, don’t try to play her or anything, ok?”

“I see what you are saying. But like I told her, I’m not trying to play any games or anything. I am interested in her, but it does no good if she wont answer my calls”.

“Ok, how about this. Call my phone in like 10 minutes, and I will give it to her.”

“I got you”.

We hung up and I went to the bathroom to brush me teeth. I didn’t know why I was brushing my teeth, it wasn’t as if she could smell my breath from over the phone. But I wanted my mouth to have that minty fresh feeling, plus it helped pass the time. 10 minutes could seem like 10 hours when your heart is pacing. I ended up waiting 11 minutes just to be safe and sat down on the sofa.

“Hello?” Kelly asked, acting as if she didn’t know who I was.

“Hey, Kelly. This is Jay” I said.

“Speak-ing-of-the devil” she said very loud. It seems as if Beyonce and Kelly had been talking about me when I called, always a good sign.

I heard Beyonce say something in the background but it was inaudible.

“Hey Jay. Yes, I’m doing good and guess what? Your boo is right here, how bout that?” Kelly said, which was funny because I hadn’t even said anything to her.

Either she was really excited to see Bee and I talk, or she was tired of the back and forth, “Bee, come talk to your man” she said.

There was some silence over the line, as Beyonce struggled with her own indecision. I heard Kelly laughing but I couldn’t decipher what either of them were whispering. I felt so childish, but it was actually an enjoyable feeling. It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Made me feel young and lively. Now, I just needed her ass to come to the phone.

I eventually got my wish.

“Hi Jay” she said, in a hard to gauge chuckle. It didn’t sound like a laugh that signaled she thought this situation was humorous, more like one of those I cant believe this nigga laughs.

“Hi Beyonce” I laughed back.

“So who do I owe the pleasure for this convo? You or Kelly?”.

“Oh, it was Kelly’s idea. I swear” I said.

“Yeah, sounds like something she would do”.

I laughed but she didn’t. Whew, looks like I had a bit of work to do, starting with the apology.

“Look Bee. I want to personally apologize for what happened with Stacy. I want to be completely up front with you. Stacy and I had been in a casual relationship for a long time. She got jealous that I was talking to you and she flipped. I have since cut her off. I’ve cut all of my casual relationships off”.

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to pursue something more real than that”.

“I see”.

“What do you see?”

“Right now, I see Kelly laughing her ass off so it’s kind of distracting” she said.

I heard Kelly laugh and say something in the background.

“Yes you are nosey” Beyonce replied to whatever Kelly had stated or asked.

“There isn’t another room you can go in or something?” I asked.

“Hold on” she replied.

I figured I was put on mute because I couldn’t hear anything from the other line. This was really starting to feel like high school.

“Hey, sorry bout that. Kelly left to give us some privacy. It’s really kind of hard to talk with people staring at you”.

“Kelly seems like something else” I grinned.

“She is”.

“So what do you see?”

“What do you mean” she asked.

“When I told you that I was looking for something real, you said that you see. What did that mean?”.

“It means that I’m not really looking for a relationship or anything. I’m really trying to focus on my career and everything”.

“That’s understandable. What about friendship?” I asked.

“With you?”

“Hopefully” I responded.

She laughed, “What is your definition of friends?’

“Hold up” I said.

I walked over to my bookshelf and pulled out the Dictionary. After flipping for a while, I had what I was looking for.

“Friend. A person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection, and loyalty; an intimate acquaintance or associate”.

She laughed at this, “I didn’t say the the dictionaries definition. I said your definition”.

“Hmmm, my definition? Well, as your friend, I’d like to text you and have you text me back. Call you and have you answer. And hang out sometime, go get some Popeyes every now and then”.

She was laughing again, “You said Popeyes would be our first date. Friends don’t date” she retorted.

“Who says friends can’t go on dates?” I asked.

“Well what’s the difference between being a friend and a girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t take my girlfriend to Popeyes for a date” I laughed.

“But what if we were broke? Then what?” she asked, still inbetween giggles.

“I’d cook for her. Give me $20 of food stamps and I can fix up a three course meal from scratch”.

“Oh Lord, did you just say food stamps” she asked, laughing.

“Don’t hate on food stamps”.

We both shared a laugh.

“You know how to cook?” she asked, seemingly surprised.

“Of course I do; you don’t?”

“No comment”.

“Wow. How you an independent woman, but can’t cook?” I asked.

“Oh wow, you making fun of me?”.

“Yea, a lil bit”, I laughed.

“You have such a cute laugh. It’s so not tough” she ended up saying.

“What the hell? It’s not tough? What does that mean?”

She started laughing hard, “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying it’s not…like a typical laugh for a tough guy. I like it, it’s cute”.

I hated when girls tried to do this.

“Well damn, I won’t be laughing anymore” I said sternly.

She laughed, “Aww, don’t be like that. You can laugh, you’re still tough”.

“Nope, not laughing anymore. Not around you anyway”.

“See now I have to hear you laugh again”.

“Then you are going to have to say something funny. Go ahead and try”.

“And how do I do that?” she asked.

“Tell a joke”.

“I’m not a comedian. I don’t know any jokes”.

“Not even momma jokes?”

“Well, I do have this one joke” she said.

“Let me hear it!”

She pouted, “But it wont be funny if I say it. Like it was really funny when I heard it, but I don’t know if I can say it right”.

“I want to laugh again, so do it”.

She laughed, “Ok. Ima tell it just give me a moment”.

I waited and could tell she was trying to stop herself from smiling. I was doing the same thing.

“Ok, ok. So there was this bar right. And a bunch of animals were sitting around drinking. Like, all of the animals. Bears, Lions, Deers, Birds. You follow me?”

“Keep going” I said, wondering where in the hell she was going with this one.

“Ok so the bear walked up to the Deer, who was also the bartender. And the bear asked the Deer, ‘can I have……………………………….a drink.’ And the Deer said to the bear, ‘why the big paws?”

She started laughing out of nowhere and it took everything in me to not laugh as well. Not at the corniness of that joke, but the fact that she was laughing so hard from telling it. Did this girl really think that was funny?

“You can’t be serious” I commented.

This made her laugh even more, “You don’t think that was funny?”

“That…was…painful” I responded.

She tried to contain herself, “Well like I said. I’m not a comedian”.

“I can see why Beyonce. Stick to your day job. Sheesh”.

“Ahh, it wasn’t that bad” she said.

“It was horrendous”.

“Ok, let me try another one”.

“Nah, that’s ok Bee. Don’t hurt yourself”.

She laughed, “No, I wanna hear you laugh again so I need a good joke. I think I got one. My cousin told me this one a long time ago”.

I sighed, “Gon head”.

“Ok. So it was the first day of school and a little boy came in late and the teacher was upset because he was tardy. She said ‘little boy, why are you late?’ and the boy said ‘sorry, I was on top of blueberry hill”. Five minutes later another little boy walked in late. The teacher said ‘little boy why are you late?’ and the boy said “sorry, i was on top of blueberry hill’. “

Now where was she going with this one?

“Five minutes later, another student comes in late and now the teacher is really mad. She says ‘Whats your excuse?’. The little boy told her he was on top of blueberry hill. Five minutes later, a little girl walks in and the teacher has had enough. She says ‘let me guess, you were on blueberry hill?’ and the little girl says ‘No teacher, my name is Blueberry Hill”.

As if she had said the funniest thing in the world, Beyonce burst into howling laughter. The joke was lame, corny, and all of that. But hearing this girl find so much humor in it sent me over the edge, I was laughing right along with her.

“Yay, I made you laugh?” she exclaimed.

“Yea, you sure did” I said, shaking my head.

“I love your laugh” she said.

“I love your laugh. And your nasty mind”.

“What? Nasty?”

“Yeah, only a nasty mind would find that sex joke funny” I smiled.

And like that, I planted the seed for our conversation to turn a bit more mature and sexual. Over the next half an hour, we started hinting around our past relationships, which inevitably would become a bridge to sex talk. I was genuinely curious about her dating history, so I made asked the first question.

“How many relationships have you had?”

“Only one that was serious” she replied.

“How serious?”

“Well, for a while I thought I’d end up marrying him”.

“Damn and you are so young”.

“Yeah I know. But me and him dated when we were kids…so”

“So no real relationships since you’ve been an adult?”

“No. It’s hard to have one in this industry”.

“I feel you. I’ve had the same problems” I said.

“Honestly Jay. I never really saw you as the serious relationship type” she said.

“Judging a book by it’s cover huh. Stereotype me why don’t you”.

“I don’t think it’s stereotyping. In your songs, you say certain things that lead me to think so”.

“Is everything you say in your songs 100% true? Or are you more than your music?” I asked rhetorically.

“I hear you Jay, I’m just saying. It’s hard to see you in those videos with all of those women and think you are a one lady guy”.

“I can admit that I have struggled with being monogamous. But for the better part of the past 20 years, I’ve always had a steady girlfriend. I was even engaged at on point”.

“Why didn’t you get married?”

“Long story. But I will say I did her wrong”.

“Sorry to hear that. But I wish I could hear the story”.

“You can hear all about it on my next album”.

“What do you mean?”

“I recorded a song about it. It’ll be on there”.

“Still though, why hear it on your album when I have you on the phone right now? Aren’t you more than your music?”

She was a smart gal, and could conveniently use my own words against me. I’d remember that for next time, but for this time I ended up telling her all about Fannie, including the last conversation we had. She seemed enthralled by it because she kept asking me questions as if she was interviewing me. I had some apprehension about talking to someone about Fannie, since I had always kept our relationship private. But I felt a sense of trust with Beyonce, even though we were barely even acquaintances.

But this is what friends did, talk to each other. And for the next three hours, we talked.

“You know, my daddy would kill me if me and you hooked up” she said.

“Why that?”

“For one, he don’t want me getting with anyone right now. Secondly, he would feel a certain way about your past. And third, you are Jay-Z. Big Pimping. I know for a fact he would trip”.

“We are just friends though. He can’t trip over us being friends?”

“Oh I know I was just saying. If…hypothetically”.

“Well hypothetically, maybe we could be like a ghetto Romeo and Juliet. Their families didn’t want them together either”.

“But don’t they die at the end?”

I laughed, “Yeah, she ended up killing herself”.

“Oh well, I ain’t killing myself over nann negro” she laughed.

“Well how about Bonnie and Clyde. The 2000 version?” I asked.

“Don’t they die too though?” she said.

I laughed, “Yeah, but in romances someone has to die”.

“Yeah, like on that movie Titanic. But if, if you died, I guess that would be ok” she laughed.

I couldn’t help laughing at her, “So it’s like that? You ain’t gon scoot over for me so I can get my ass out the water?”

She laughed and we shared a sigh. I checked the clock and couldn’t believe it was almost midnight. We had been talking far longer than I thought.

“You know, I always liked bad boys” she said, breaking my train of thought.

“The movie?. Yeah Will Smith and Martin were great in that one” I said, patronizing.

“No silly” she giggled, “I’m talking about men, guys. It’s just something about a bad boy with a New York accent. That swagger and everything. Yall make it hard for a girl, sometimes”.

“Was your last boyfriend one of them?”

“Nah. My daddy would have never allowed me to date one of them when I was younger. I’m saying since I have been grown. I go all over the country and it’s the thug guys that are always bold enough to try to step to me. I can’t even lie, some of them are attractive. Even with they do they ‘hey ma” stuff”.

“Let me find out you get turned on by a dude that says ‘hey ma, you got a phat ass, let me holla” I laughed.

“I mean it’s offensive yea, but still…it’s kind of a turn on. Don’t judge me” she laughed.

“You ever got at any of them?”

She laughed, “Um. No comment”.

“What? How you gonna no comment me?”

“My publicist tells me to say no comment when it’s something I don’t wanna answer”.

“That’s messed up Bee. I told you all about my love life and everything”.

“You right. But still, I don’t wanna say. Not yet at least” she said.

“I gueeeeeees I can respect that” I sighed.

“You better”.

“Well can I ask you this? Are you a daddies girl or something?”

“Um, not really. I mean I care what he thinks but I wouldn’t say I’m a daddies girl. I’m more of a Momma girl. But I love both of my parents, so”.

“You say you care what he thinks…hypothetically, what would happen if he found out I wanted to date you?”

“He’d think I was crazy” she laughed.

I laughed with her, “Ain’t nothing wrong with being crazy in love”.

“Aww, so poetic” she said sarcastically.

“You got jokes, but I am serious” I said.

“I hear you”.

And that is when our conversation that had been so fluid over the hours stalled. It was now midnight and Kelly had returned to the room, so Beyonce didn’t feel comfortable being as open and laid back as she had been. I could sense it in her change of tone which went from lively to dry.

“Kelly watching you?” I asked.

“Yes”, she replied.

I laughed, “I understand. It’s late anyway. Hopefully we can talk again soon” I said.

“I’d like that, friend” she replied.

“Goodnight friend. And tell Kelly I said thanks”.

She laughed, “Oh I will. She looks like she is about to burst…so nosey”.

She laughed, I laughed, we laughed, and I hung up smiling from ear to ear. That seriously had been the best conversation in years. No drama, no stress, no baggage. Just a fun conversation. Being friends with Beyonce was something I was looking forward to.

June 20

The album was done, all that needed to be complete was the mixing and shoot for the album cover. We had all types of concepts in mind but after looking at storyboards, the idea I liked the most was with me sitting in front of my soldiers with a cigar in my hand. We ended up redoing the frame of the photo a few different times, but it resulted in cutting out the right half. This way, the cover was much more ambiguous.

On the way back from the shoot, Dash, B-High, Ty, and I were riding in the truck listening to the tracks, clowning like usual when Ty Ty decided to be funny. I had recently told him about my few conversations with Beyonce and even though I told him not to mention it, he just had to spill the beans. We were listening to the track Girls, Girls, Girls, when he spoke up.

“Yo, Jay, you forgot to add that you have a r&b chick to the song” he laughed.

Dash, being the nosey instigator he was, turned around from his seat and eyed me, “Who?”.

I looked over at Ty who was laughing hysterically. B-High seemed to be interested as well, “Yeah Jay, who? Mya?”

“Nah, she is old news” Ty answered for me.

I looked over at him and shot him a look.

Ty continued to laugh, “What? I ain’t say who it was”.

“Who is it Jay?” Dame asked.

“Aaliyah” I laughed.

“Don’t play with my emotions like that, funny man” Dash replied, with a grin.

“Nah but on the real yall. Ty is full of shit. Dont be believing him”.

“I saw a tabloid that said you was messing with Kelly from Destiny Child” B-High said.

Ty started cracking up.

“Damn, so it’s true?” Dash asked.

“No” I spit.

“Well damn, it ain’t but a few to choose from. There is Mya, Deborah Cox, Mariah Carey, Alecia Keys….and damn, who else? Beyonce and that’s it” Dash said.

Ty started laughing hard as hell at the last name in the list. Dash looked at him curiously and then at me. At Ty, then back at me. He raised his head, an eyebrow, and then scrunched his face hard. I tried to remain neutral, but my smile was pretty apparent.

“You lying” he ended up saying.

“I ain’t say nothing” I said.

“Your face says it all nigga. Beyonce? That fine ass sister? You lying. I don’t believe it. Nope, don’t believe it” he said.

Now B-High, Ty, and I was laughing. Dash was such a competitor, he wanted the hottest chick in the game. And he always had that title because of his relationship with r&b star Aaliyah. But Beyonce was starting to blow up, even rising past the popularity of Aaliyah. It was funny seeing him hate a little.

“Beyonce though? Damn. Beyonce” Dash said, talking to himself.

“Keep it low though Dame. For real. Me and her are just friends”.

“Friends” Dame said not believing it.

“Friends” I said, trying to convince him.

“Friends?” B-High said, siding with Dame.

“Friends!” I said to the both of them, shaking my head but still reluctantly grinning.

Dame turned around in his seat and begin mumbling to himself, “This muthaf*cka talking about friends. Talking with Beyonce and talking about friends. Friends, friends, friend my ass. You f*cked her yet friendly man?. Gotdamn though….Beyonce….that’s a good one” he said.

We all started laughing.

“Keep it to the vest Dame” I said, reminding him that I didn’t want anyone to know about this conversation.

“Yeah yeah yeah friendly man” he said before turning back around to me and grinning hard “My chick is still badder”.

Next track.

Summer Jam 2001

This was it, the moment that has been brewing for five years. The moment I would officially declare war on the other rappers in the game. Backing me was my crew, the Rocafella army, and our sight was set on the prize. The crown of the city, the crown of hip hop. I was going to lead us into battle and come out as the King of New York.

It was a bit of a surreal moment, I started to think about my career up to this point, how it got started, the struggles, the rejections, the disses. As I sat in my dressing room, my thoughts begin to wander even further back. I thought about the boombox my mom bought me for my birthday. The first rhymes I penned at the kitchen table. The many people from the hood that laughed at me when i first told them I was going to be a rapper.

It all came to me and culminated into the thoughts of Nas. Nas had dissed me when I first got into the game by not showing up to record for my album, he had been throwing jabs at me for the longest. He thought he could knock me out the game by ignoring me. He thought my career would be over without someone of his caliber backing me. But he thought wrong, I was going to be the one to knock him out of the game. I was going to end him and his boy Prodigies career.

I lit a blunt, got my mind right, and performed for the thousands that packed the arena. I even brought out Michael Jackson on stage to set the scene for what would be the biggest moment in hip hop history, as far as I was concerned. The Roc was in full force that night as we threw up diamonds, and got love from every member of that place. I felt their energy and they fed off mine. They were hanging on my every word, which led to be unveiling the song that I had did with Kanye. It was fittingly titled The Takeover, because I was about to take over rap and put it into a choke-hold.

I held the mic as if it was the game, and when the beat started, another side of me took over. I spit my verse at Prodigy, put on the Jumbo screen a picture of him in a ballerina dress that one of my buddies had uncovered months prior, and had the crowd on the edge of their seats screaming.

The music cut, so they could hear me loud and clear, because it was time. No more games, the gloves were coming off, and the war was about to begin.

“You guys don’t want it with Hov, ask NAS, he don’t want it with Hov, NO!”

Words can’t describe the release I felt when I finally mentioned his name publicly in an aggressive manner. Words also can’t describe the response of the crowd, who roared when they heard my challenge to Nas, who had once been the most praised rapper in the game.

I thought about Taj, and cats like Danny-Dan, Manny, and Spanish Jose. Everyone of them, as well as anyone else to ever hustle, left with them some kind of legacy. And this rap shit, this New York rap shit, would be mine.

I left the stage and we had a Rocafella takeover backstage, with seemingly hundreds of journalist and cameras in our face, asking about the beef, asking about the Takeover, asking about Nas. They wanted this to take place as bad, if not more than I wanted to win. And as everyone stood in my face, I knew that I could not lose this battle. My career, my legacy, my livelihood depended on it. This was the single biggest moment in my career to this point and I Would Not Lose.

July, 2001

Aside from the constant banter and noise that was surrounding my Summer Jam diss of Nas, the only other thing in my life that had my attention was my growing friendship with Beyonce. She found the whole beef thing to be silly, but she never talked down on me for doing it. She’d say how she understood rap was different than other genres. I was glad that she at least tried to see where I was coming from. She did eventually tell me she hoped I wouldn’t let it get the best of me.

Although we did talk often, it was mostly through text messages. But towards the end of the month, we did manage to talk to each other for five minutes or so every night. She had this thing about wanting to hear my laugh before she went to sleep, which was insulting and flattering at the same time. She could make me laugh unlike alot of people but I guess I didn’t mind. It was a good deal. I believe I messed up when I told her that she could call me anytime, because she took me up on the offer. One night, I awakened to the sound of my phone at 4 in the morning.

I checked the caller ID, and lone and behold, it was Beyonce. I had been out and about all day and needed the rest because I had to be up early in the morning for a meeting, but I went against my better judgment and answered.

“Hel-lo” I said sleepily.

“Hi Jay” she said, wide awake.

A laugh escaped from my lips unexpectedly, I guess because I couldn’t understand how she was wide awake at 4 in the morning.

“Girl, don’t you realize it’s 4 in the morning?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

She laughed, “You said I could call you anytime“.

“I was just being nice” I grinned.

“Well it’s not 4 where I’m at. It’s almost noon”.

“Where you at?” I said, sitting up in bed.

“Amsterdam”.

“Amsterdam? The hell you doing in the Netherlands?”

She laughed, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just enjoying my International popularity, or something small like that”, she boasted.

“Conceited ass” I said.

“Says the man that calls himself the God of rap” she retorted.

Damn, she had me there. I couldn’t even respond to that, and that is what I liked most about her. So many of the girls I dealt with were scared of me, afraid to share a different point of view, or debate with me. That was what I loved most about Fannie, she always said what she thought regardless of what I’d think of it. Brutal honesty was sexy as hell.

“So what’s up?” I asked, finally pulling both of my eyes open, ready for another adventure of banter with miss Beyonce.

“Just wanted to say hey. I didn’t think you’d answer cuz I know it’s late over there”.

“Well, typically these are booty call hours, so you know. I had to answer” I laughed.

She giggled, “And here you had me thinking you just wanted to hear my voice”.

“Oh, I do. Don’t get it twisted”.

“So what you got planned today, Jay-Z?”

“Well, when I wake up” I said, emphasizing the wake up part, “I have a meeting with a few important folks. You know, handling my multi-million dollar businesses, small stuff like that”.

This got her laughing, it seems we were always laughing when we talked.

“Who are the important folk?” she asked.

“Juan Perez is one of them. And some numbers guys”.

“What’s the meeting for?”

“Damn you ask alot of questions”.

“Sorry Jay. I just find you that darn interesting” she laughed.

“Well, I shouldn’t tell you this. Hell, Dash doesn’t even know the details. But I’m looking to start my own sports bar. Juan and I, I should say”.

“Interesting. I’m guessing the return would be amazing”.

“Amaze-Ing” I followed.

“Nah but for real, Jay. That is one thing about you that I really think is crazy fly”.

Did she just say crazy fly? I chuckled, “What you mean?”

“Like, you make money rapping, but you make so much more from other things. I really admire you for that. It’s a good look”.

“Well thank you. You looking to be an entrepreneur as well?”.

“Actually I am. There are a lot of things I want to do besides sing. Movies, fashion, clubs. Seems like I could learn alot of tips from you since you have been there and done that” she said.

I had to admit, I was getting the big head hearing her spot off my accomplishments, even though they were true. I had to play on it.

“Yeah. You could definitely learn alot from me” I grinned.

“See, this is why you can’t compliment Negroes” she laughed.

I tried to bring it back down, because I didn’t want her to get the idea that i actually was that conceited.

“Nah but for real though. I think it’s important to have a strong business mind. That’s one thing alot of these cats in the game don’t realize. It’s why they can have three, four, five albums out and still be broke. Money is all around, but these cats just don’t know how to go and get it”.

“I feel you on that. And I think that’s why I respect you so much. Yeah you came from the projects and stuff but when you got to the industry, you did things in a professional way. I think that’s really cool”.

“Word. I appreciate your perspective on that” I said in an even tone.

“Which reminds me. I wanted to ask you about your life before music. Like, you sold drugs right? How did that even come about?” she asked.

I knew she was naive and new to the topic of hustling, but I had to let her know some of the rules. She was obviously ignorant to them.

“Bee, I can’t talk about that type of thing over the phone. You feel me?”

“Why not?” she asked, curiously.

“You do realize, what you just spoke about…is illegal activity, right?”

“Yeah I know…but…like you can’t even talk about it?”

“I could talk about it, but just not over the phone. Me and you would have to meet up for that”.

“Is that game” she asked, laughing.

I didn’t find the question funny.

“No Bee, I’m serious. I hardly ever talk to anyone about my past because it’s in my music. No need for details. But if, and that’s a big if, I were to talk about those things with you. We’d have to do it in person, not over the phone”.

I heard her cough, “I understand. Sorry.”

“It’s cool”.

Awkward silence followed her apology, as if the conversation would stall. I could sense she was close to giving the whole ‘well i gotta go’ speech, but after she woke my ass up, I wasn’t ready to stop talking. I was awake now, and I wanted to chat.

“So Beyonce. You are always asking me all types of questions. How come I can’t ask you questions?”

“Who said you can’t ask me questions?” she asked.

“You did. Or, you said you didn’t want to answer”.

She laughed, “Oh yeah, I remember that. That was our first real phone conversation though”.

“Well, you still never told me you’d be down. You stay pressing me with the Q&A, but you won’t let me interview you” I laughed.

“Ok. But I will only answer the ones I am comfortable answering” she responded.

“Ok. So you ready?”

“Shoot”.

“Are you dating anyone?”

She laughed, “Nope. I promise. Right now, my career is my man”.

I smiled, “You f*cking anyone?”

“Wow” she said, before laughing out of surprise more than humor.

“Be honest” I said.

“I can’t answer that over the phone” she said.

“What? Ain’t no feds bugging this phone to find out if you f*cking” I laughed.

“You never know. Them Paparazzi is crazy like that” she said.

“Damn, you can’t even let me know if you are currently involved in any sexual relationships?”

“I’d have to tell you in person” she insisted.

I sighed, “Ok. Well at least answer this, are you a virgin?”

She laughed, “Um…”

Maybe for the first time in our short period of chatting, I didn’t like the fact that Beyonce was so young. I was in my 30′s and I was asking this grown woman if she was a virgin, and there was a chance that she was. That illustrated to me how young she actually was, and her reluctance to answer very basic sex questions made me question her maturity. Like, is it really that big of a deal to answer if you are having sex or if you have had sex? I rolled my eyes to try and not let my frustration with her young ass show.

“Ok. I lost my virginity before I got famous” I said, “What about you? Before or after fame?”

“Before” she answered, maybe catching a hint of aggravation in my voice.

“See, that wasn’t so hard?” I said.

“It’s kind of personal, Jay. That’s all”.

“Friends have personal conversations. And it never stopped you from asking personal questions about me” I rebuffed.

Seems we both were beginning to catch a little attitude. Could this turn into our first argument? It was too early in the morning to be arguing over a question, so I just decided to change the entire subject. Wasn’t worth it.

“Nevermind, Bee. Not trying to step on any toes” I said.

“No, keep asking” she said.

“Nah, you are obviously uncomfortable with my questions, so”

“Jay, just ask. I’m a big girl, I’ll be ok”.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Ask away”.

“When was the last time you had some?”

“Some what? Dick?”

I chuckled to myself hearing her say that. Wow, this girl was young.

“Yes. Some dick” I echoed, laughing.

“Um…It’s been a minute” she said.

“A minute? As in weeks? Months? Years? Minutes?”

“Let’s just say, since I’ve been famous. I’ve had a few sexual relationships. Does that work?” she asked.

I laughed, “Yeah. I guess that works”.

“What about you? When was the last time you got some?” she asked.

“I’m not on the hot seat. I’m asking you the questions right now”.

I heard her take a deep breath and sigh, “Aight. Keep going”.

“I last had some last week, honestly” I said, to answer her question anyway.

I wondered how she would take my honesty. Would she trip even though me and her were simply phone friends, or would she handle it in a mature manner? I was interested in the answer, because it would determine if I could even be compatible with her.

“Interesting” she said.

“You mad?” I asked.

“Why would I be mad? We’re just friends”.

“What if I told you it was with Kelly” I grinned.

She didn’t say anything. I laughed in the phone thinking it would spark some laughter in her, but she didn’t reciprocate the laughter. Damn, had she taken my joke for admission?

“Beyonce, I’m joking” I said.

“Are you?” she asked.

“YES! I wouldn’t do that to you”.

“Jay, be honest. Did you try to holla at her?”

“No. I swear. At my party, I talked with her just so I could get her to convince you to talk to me. I’ve done some foul things, but I wouldn’t have done that. Come on”.

She didn’t say anything.

“You there?”

“Yeah, just thinking”.

“About what?”

“Nothing important. My dad needs me though so I have to go. Hope you have a good morning and meeting with Juan” she said abruptly.

“You sure you’re not mad?” I asked.

“Yeah I’m good. Text me later, ok. Let me know how the meeting went” she said.

“Ok Bee, I will. Talk to you soon” I said.

“Bye”.

“Later”.

She was clearly catching feelings, more than friendly feelings. But I would be a lie if I said I wasn’t as well.

August 25, 2001

My sister Mickey text me a chain letter early in the morning, telling me that everything happens for a reason. It was one of those texts that you read, delete, and forget about soon after. That’s exactly what I did until I got a text from Beyonce that evening.

Received 7:30 PM: OMG, did u hear?

The tone of her message frightened me, but before I had a chance to reply to it, I received five or six more texts within the same minute. This has to be serious, and when I got the call from Ty Ty, I braced for the worst.

“Yeah?” I said immediately into the receiver.

“You hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Aaliyah’s plane just crashed. The news is saying she died in the accident”.

“What? Ty, tell me you are joking”.

“It’s on the news right now man. Dash is at the office broken up”.

I grabbed my keys and made my way straight to the office. I turned on the radio and sure enough, it was the hot topic of the evening. I had hung out with Aaliyah so many times, she was one of the most down to earth and funniest women I had ever been around. If it wasn’t for Dash, I would have pursued her. She was such a talented, beautiful, crazy intelligent woman, that it didn’t even seem right to be talking about her in past tense. As I drove, it still wasn’t sinking in.

I made it to the Rocafella office, where Ty, my sister, and a few of Dame’s associates were outside. I sank in when I saw the look on their faces.

“Where Dame?” I asked immediately.

“He left for the airport” Ty answered.

“To go where?”

“See the body. He said he don’t believe it”.

“Damn man. How was he?”

“He was crying and whatnot. Never seen him like that before. I feel terrible” he said.

I looked at my sister Annie, who had tears in her eyes. Aaliyah and her had hung out a few times over the years, she was one of her biggest fans. I walked over and gave her a hug.

Through all of the bullshit in life, sometimes we never stop to appreciate the fact that we have life, until it’s too late. I hadn’t felt that type of emptiness in my stomach since the day that BIG was killed. It made me reevaluate my life. And it also made me think about that text I had received that morning. Did everything really happen for a reason? Well what was the reason for this? What meaning did it hold?

I shed a few tears trying to answer why it had happened.

September 2001

I ran into Jungle, Nas’ young brother after getting off a plane in Jersey. He spotted me before I did him, so I guess he was taking it upon himself to holla at me about the upcoming battle. Everyone had heard about my challenge to Nas at Summer Jam, but no one had heard the verse I had written for him and recorded for my new album. The album was going to be released on September 11, and everyone from insiders to casual fans were excited about what type of content the album would contain. I knew they wouldn’t be disappointed.

Jungle told me Nas was coming at me. Nas recorded a record called the Stillmatic Freestyle where he finally called out my name, calling me a rap version of Sisqo. He also called out my crew, and Beans was ready to go back at him. But I told all of the Roc to fall back. I didn’t want it to be a mismatch. I wanted it to be mano-a-mano. Man vs man. Rapper vs Rapper. As much disdain as I had for Nas, I also had a lot of respect for him, and he at least deserved a fighting chance. I told my boys to not make any diss records so that he would come at me and me alone. I was determined to take him down by my lonesome.

I ended up going on the Angie Martinez for at Hot97 to unveil the complete version of the Takeover, which included an entire verse for Nas. I came in, we chatted, and got feedback from the listeners, who were just as eager to hear it as I was to drop it. The show for that day was called “The Takover”, which was fitting. I felt as if I was truly taking over the game.

With the tension as high as it could have possibly been, we dropped the record, the knockout blow to Nas’ career.

To finish off the track, I also made a reference to Carmen and the affair she had with me. It was meant as a warning shot to let him know if he responded to my diss, then I would let the world know. It was foul, it was dirty, it was a low blow. But all was fair in war. This was the art to it, and I would not lose.

The day my album dropped, would be a day that the world would never forget, but unfortunately it had nothing to do with my music. I was in New York when it happened, terrorist attacked America, our buildings, our people, our spirit. I was already having fears of flying after Aaliyah’s death but this was something that completely humbled me. I couldn’t believe what was going down to in my own backyard.

It was easy to bicker and be divided, but shit like that made me realize that all of us are brothers and sisters. I never hugged so many random people in my life. I received texts and phone calls in rapid succession, people wanting to make sure I was ok, but I wasn’t I was on edge, wondering if the attacks were over and if so, how would life change. I talked with Fannie briefly who had called my mother who put in the message for me to call her and let her know I was ok. I ended up talking to people that I had not heard from in months or years, but loved ones none the less.

After hours passed, I stopped at a text I had missed the first time, it was from Beyonce from around 8 in the morning.

Received 8:33 AM: Are u ok??

I checked my voice mail, and realized she had also called and left me a message.

“Shawn, I hope you are ok. Please text or call me back and let me know if you are. Bye.”

I was around a bunch of people at the time, so I ended up texting her.

Sent 2:21 PM: Hey Bey. I’m fine. Hope all is well with you and your family…

She immediately text me back.

Received 2:23 PM: Thank God. I was worried. We are still trying to get n contact wit every1 we kno in NY..how bout ur fam?

Sent 2:25 PM: Far as I know, we r all good. Everything is jus so hectic…

Received 2:26 PM: Yea…culd u call me, please?

I walked in an empty room and made the call to her, she answered on the first ring.

“Hey” she said in a tone I had never heard before. It was clear, she had been or still was crying.

I had never heard her in a vulnerable spot, she was always so giddy and everything around me. But on the flip, I was flattered that she had wanted me to call her during a time like this.

“Hey, you ok?” I asked.

She sniffed, “No. I can’t stop crying”.

“I feel you. It’s taking a lot for me to not shed any tears. Gotta be strong for my family and friends”.

“Could you be strong for me too?” she whispered.

“Sure Bee” I said, “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom in the tub” she weakly said.

“You taking a bath?”

“No. Just this was the only place where I could get away from the TVs” she said.

“You at home?”

“Yeah. Thank God. I was suppose to be taking a flight tomorrow morning. I don’t think I ever want to fly again” she said.

“Yeah, first Aaliyah and now this. Being in the air ain’t a place I want to be right now”.

“Do you think the attacks are over? My mom was talking about them trying to hit the white house”.

“I honestly don’t know. I’d think our military would have had this situation under control by now”.

She hissed, “Yeah, I bet. They obviously are just as confused as everyone else”.

“Look on the bright side though Bee. Our loved ones are still ok. That’s a blessing” I said.

I heard her weeping into the phone, struggling with breathing and even wheezing. I wish there was something I could have done to comfort her. We were thousands of miles away and all I could do was offer her cliche words of encouragement. Words were just words in this situation. What she needed, hell what everyone of us needed, was a deep, warm, hug. I couldn’t provide that for her and I hated it. I was helpless.

“Shawn, I’m just so…tired…I’m tired…” she eventually stated after swallowing and briefly stopping the tears.

“Tired of what Bee?”

“Everything. The media. The Paparazzi. The pressure. Record execs. Touring. Flying. All of it. I don’t think I can handle it anymore. I just don’t have it in me Shawn…I am tired”.

I remained silent. What could I say? Really, what could I say to her? Her tears were obviously from more than just the Terrorist attacks, they were a mixture of negative energy that was overwhelming her.

“The girls that were in Destiny Child is suing us. And it’s not just that all of us grew up together, it’s the things everyone is saying about me that isn’t true. It really isn’t true Shawn. All this shit that I’m selfish and a liar, and that I plotted behind their backs and I’m 2 faced. And of course the media and critics believe every word of it. It’s like so many people just want me to fail. This music just isn’t fun to me anymore”.

This was so much more than tears from September 11th Terrorism. She was collapsing from the inside out.

“Have you told anyone about this?”

“No, how could I? What would I f*cking say? Hey, I’m a millionaire, and a grammy winning singer, and I am depressed because people talk bad about me. Shawn no one would take it serious. They already think i’m naive, and spoiled, and all that other shit”.

“Bee, your depression is not as rare as you are making it out to be. It’s perfectly normal. You just can’t keep that shit bottled up, cause it will consume you”.

She didn’t say anything.

“I’m afraid that I will be exposed for the scared person I am soon. I just don’t think I can do this anymore, Shawn”.

I heard banging on the door from her end, and then her reply to it.

“I’m coming, just give me a second” I heard her scream.

“Jay, thanks for talking to me. Sorry I vented all my garbage on you”.

“Girl, stop that. I appreciate you even sharing that part of yourself with me. You know, anytime you can vent to me” I said.

“Thanks. Stay safe out there. If its God’s will I’ll talk to you soon” she said.

“Take care Bee”.

“Bye”.

While the aftermath of the terrorist attacks was the topic of conversation for the next month, it was Beyonce’s venting that pierced my thoughts during the same time period.

October 2001

Although the Terrorist attacks took away the buzz of my album, my sales still went very well. I was already Platinum with a hit single and many had already anointed me as the King of NY. I even got Destiny Child to give me a cameo apperance for the music video.

My album was getting great reviews, including a 5 Mic rating from the Source and most were already convinced that had ended the career of Nas. No one felt it would be possible for him to come back, no one except die hard Nas fans. And even some of the Nas fans were secretly sure the man was dead. My career was at it’s highest point.

As record sales picked up, so did my phone conversations with Beyonce. I had previously taken her for the happy go lucky type, always smiling and laughing. But I didn’t understand who she was past the smile and laugh. I didn’t realize that her laugh was keeping her from crying. She was a depressed girl and she had been for a long time. She didn’t like to bring up the talk we had, but I had my ways of indirectly asking her about it. I wanted to make sure that she was mentally and emotionally ok. She could fool others with the laughs and smiles, but I saw past it now.

I saw a broken woman, and it broke my heart that she was still refusing to let me in. We’d have hour long conversations one day, and the next she would be weary of us talking about anything personal. It was as if our poignant private conversations were erased from her memory. It confused me.

“You wanna talk about what we talked about the other day?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The depression”.

“What about it?”

“Well, have you looked into seeing someone about it?”

“Jay. I’m fine” she laughed.

“You didn’t seem fine the other d-”

“But I’m fine now. End of the story, ok?”

“Why you getting an attitude?” I asked.

“I’m not. Just tired of talking about the same thing all the time. You sure do like to bring the conversations down”.

Damn, was that how she really felt? Maybe she really didn’t appreciate my attempts to help her out, or maybe I was pushing too hard? I mean, I wasn’t her man, and she wasn’t my girl. We had never hung out, and most of our conversations were done through text message. So maybe I thought more of our friendship than she did. It really was confusing me.

“Ok, I won’t bring it up anymore. Just do you” I said.

She sighed, “Look, well I gotta go. I’ll talk to you whenever. Bye” she said.

We went a month without talking.

November, 2001

Received 1:02 AM: Hey, u up?

Sent 1:09 AM: I am…sup

Received 1:13 AM: Thinking bout u…at the hotel…

Sent 1:16 AM: I called u last month a few times…u never called me back

Received 1:18 AM: Sorry…I was busy…

Sent 1:19 AM: I bet…

Received 1:25 AM: Can u talk?

I decided to f*ck with her.

Sent 1:30 AM: Nah, I’m bout to have company…

Received 1:32 AM: Oh, ok. Hope u have a good time…

I laughed to myself and called her. She answered on the first ring.

“Hey stranger” I said when she picked up in an oblivious tone.

“Hey, sorry I text so late. I don’t want to interrupt with your company”.

“Aww, isn’t that thoughtful” I laughed.

She didn’t say anything, she was waiting for me.

“So wassup? You wanted to talk?”

“Don’t you have a girl coming over?”

“I was f*cking with you Bee. You have my undivided attention”.

“Oh, so now we play games”.

“Playing games is something you are use to Bee. I mean, you were too busy to even return my call, right”.

“Jay, if you are going to act like that then we mines as well not even talk” she said, aggravated.

“I like how you make this about me, like I’m the reason for the little beef we have. Beyonce, you just quit f*cking with me out of the blue. And then text me like it’s nothing without an apology or even an explanation. Is that how friends do things?”

She was either heated or taking in my words because she didn’t answer my rhetorical question or offer any words. It was situations like this that reminded me about how young she was. I begin to even question if this was really something I wanted to pursue. Even being friends with her was like jumping through hoops.

“Jay, I’m sorry. I really, really, really have just been stressed out. Going through alot of stuff. I didn’t want to just keep venting to you. You are doing big things, I don’t wanna bring you down with my baggage, you know? Like you are an emotional trashcan or something”.

“I hope you know when i tell you something, I am not just saying it for my health” I begin, “When i say you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you for it…I mean it. I’ll listen to you whenever you want to vent. But I won’t chase you Bee. It’s either you want me as a friend, or you don’t”.

“I want you as a friend. I feel comfortable talking to you. It’s been hard this past month without hearing your laugh. I gotta admit, that is why I called you tonight. Just wanted to hear your laugh before I went to sleep” she said.

I laughed, which sparked her own laughter. I couldn’t stay mad at her for long.

“Anyway” I said, “How have you been, for real?”

“Bad. My ex boyfriend tried to get back with me, after all the shit he put me through. And honestly, I have kind of alienated myself from my friends and family. They say i’m being standoffish, but oh well. I just don’t like being around people right now. Even the simplest thing they do can aggravate me. It’s really weird, I know”.

“Nah, its not weird. I know how you feel.”

“Do you really?”

“I went through a period of depression in my life. And even now, I don’t like being around some of the people I came up with. I’m slowly separating myself from them”.

“But how do you deal with all of these pressures and obligations? I look at my callender and everyday is filled with things I have to do and people I have to meet. It’s really exhausting. I’m booked up till Christmas….of next year!”

We both laughed.

“Bee, I think you just need to schedule some Me time. A Beyonce holiday” I said.

“And what would I do? Where would I go? Paparazzi follows everywhere. Vacations don’t even feel like vacations” she sighed.”How about coming to visit me? My crib is secluded, no one would bother you here” I said.She laughed, “This sounds like me and you time, Mr. Carter.”"Well of course it would be time for me to get to actually chill with you. But I really do think it would help relieve some of your stress. Watch movies, go swimming in my pool, get some of my famous cooking, all the good stuff” I grinned.”Now would sex be included in this little Me time at your place?” she asked even toned.”Only if you wanted” I laughed.

“Uhmhmmm. I bet” she said, suspiciously.

“Seriously though. No pressure, just a suggestion”.

“I don’t know about that Jay. That sounds like some real invasion of privacy type stuff. Where would I sleep?”

“Girl, do you know how many rooms I have in my crib? Pick one”.

She laughed, “And what would I tell my people? They’d need to know where I was”.

“That one is up to you. But I could have sworn you were an adult of consenting age. Didn’t know you had a curfew” I teased.

“Would it be ok if I brought my cousin with me?” she asked.

“Male or female?”

“Does it matter?” she laughed.

“I guess it don’t. But damn, another dude would be kind of awkward. Like a chaperon” I said.

She laughed, “Female, Jay. She’s like one of my closest friends”.

“Like I said. I got a lot of rooms. You, and your cousin are welcomed to come”.

“I’ll consider it. Like, for real” she said.

“Well just let me know, because I will be going Overseas soon. If you could make it, it probably would have to be within the next week or two”.

We ended up setting up a date for the next weekend. She was too busy to stay for an entire weekend so we decided she would come on a Friday morning and leave that night. Her cousin couldn’t make it, which secretly thrilled me. I didn’t know if Beyonce and I were going to have sex, but for our first actual encounter aside from the day at the video shoot, I wanted us to be able to talk without interference. We couldn’t go out somewhere, because of the flashing cameras and nosey ass people that would have our date as front page material the next day. So we were going to have a date at my crib.

I had it planned for us to cook together, I could give her some tips, and then after dinner we could hit the hot tub and just relax. I wanted her to be comfortable and enjoy herself so I left most of the day flexible so she could choose what we’d do. I had a stack full of new movies and made sure I would receive no visitors that day. The entire day would belong to us.

That was what I wanted, but unfortunately, things don’t often go as planned. She was suppose to drive her rental to my spot by noon, but she said her plane got delayed. I didn’t talk to her on the phone until it was 3 PM. Even though she was suppose to be on “Me Time”, she told me she had to make a stop for business. Still, I didn’t trip, I let her do her thing. By the time the sun was setting and she still wasn’t to my crib, I had put away the food I cooked and gave up on the date.

“Bee, I’ve called you a bunch of times. I hope you are ok. It’s-” I checked the clock “9 right now and still no response. Let me know that you are at least ok.

I wanted to be mad, but I was more disappointed than mad. I had really looked forward to us spending the day together, but she had apparently had second thoughts. She didn’t show and didn’t return my calls. I thought about going to the club to blow off some steam, but I didn’t even have the energy for it. This was different from when Fannie had led me on with the ideas of a first date to play me. Beyonce had no reason to play me like this. I mean, what point would it serve?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became, so I cut on the TV to the basketball game and tried to take my mind off the wasted day. By the 3rd quarter, my doorbell was ringing. It had to be Beyonce, since I had told everyone else not to come through. I checked the clock and it was 10:45 PM. Did she really have the nerve to come through this late after ignoring me the entire day? That was like adding insult to injury. I was over her shit.

Still, after she had ring the doorbell five or six times, I got up, mean mugging and made my way over to my front door. I checked the peep hole and sure enough, it was her. I opened the door quickly and bit my bottom lip. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

It was a Beyonce I didn’t recognize. Her smile wasn’t the smile I recognized. Her eyes weren’t the eyes I remembered. Who was this woman? It was Beyonce, just not the Beyonce I expected.

“Hi, I’m weeeally sowry I’m late” she said, in a southern slur.

“Are you ok?” I asked, concerned.

“Of course I am. We steel on foe our date?”

It was clear to me, this woman was drunk out of her mind. Her eyes were fixated on mines as she smiled, but the shy and innocent girl I thought I knew was absent in them. She was wobbling in her red heels and black dress and when I looked at the rental car behind her, it was parked unevenly in the grass. I was amazed that she had even made it to my crib without getting a DUI, or even worst, getting into an accident.

“Bee, are you drunk?” I asked, knowing the answer.

She laughed an ugly laugh and smacked me on the shoulder playfully.

Aww, Jay you look so concerned” she grinned, “I just had a few dranks…just one or two or 10″ she said, before laughing.

I didn’t like what I saw in front of me, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her drive in the state she was in. I grabbed her hand and helped her inside. She might have normally been a pro when it came to walking in heels, but when those heels hit my hardwood floors, she completely lost her balance and tumbled, taking me with her. I landed on top of her and she was laughing aloud, blowing her liquor drenched breath in my face.

“Whoops!” she laughed.

I attempted to get up but she grabbed me and put her legs around my waist.

“Looks like you got me where you want me…big, ohhh I feel it…BIG pimping” she said seductively.

“Bee, you are wasted right now. Stop” I said, attempting to unlock her leg grip.

It took some strong tugs but I eventually broke her leg lock and stood up as she grinned and mumbled incoherently on the floor. I looked down at her and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She was such a proud, strong, and reserved woman as far as I was concerned. But seeing her be so drunken and out of character was disheartening. I was struggling with what I should do.

She extended her hands to me so she could be pulled to her feet. I helped her up and she started swaying again, still grinning in my face.

“Bee, what happened? Why are you so drunk right now? What did you do today?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling.

“You smell guuuuuud Mr. BIG Pimping” she eventually said, looking down at my crotch.

She tried to take a few steps, but fell over again, but this time I caught her. She laughed at my heroics and kicked off her heels.

“Yes Jay-Z. Take me!” she exclaimed.

I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. I carried her over to my sofa and laid her down, still trying to think about what I should do to break this state she was in. But as I looked down at the dazed woman, likely just an hour or so away from passing out, I realized that there would be nothing I could do to cure this state. She was going to have a hangover and it was going to be painful. Instead of thinking about how I’d stop her pain, I instead started thinking of ways to help pull her through it. I started thinking about home remedies for helping people get over their drunkenness.

“Let me get you some black coffee” I said, as she rocked in the seat.

“I’ll take creaam!” she giggled.

I shook my head as I walked into the kitchen. Man, this day had turned out nothing like I had imagined. I wanted to be angry at her for showing up like this, but something inside of me was sympathetic to it. Maybe this was some sort of cry for help. I then begin to think about her depression. Maybe this drunken night had something to do with it. Maybe her parents had a right to be protected about her activities. She was a young girl, barely even legal and coming into a city like this alone maybe was too much for her.

I was alot more experienced than her, hell I was in my mid 20′s when i came into the industry, so where I was prepared to deal with the industry, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe I was wrong for inviting her to come here, or wrong for even pursuing her. There was so much I didn’t know about this woman and clearly she was dealing with issues that was affecting her development. I thought and fixed the coffee, until I felt a tap at my shoulder.

I turned around and she was standing naked in front of me, in her heels. She was smiling sexily, trying her best to seduce me with the sight of her. Her breast were pointed right in my direction and as she walked closer and closer to me, my heart started pounding faster and faster.

I hated myself for getting aroused at the sight of this young female that was crying for help. This sudden sexual turn in our relationship was desperation on her part. A cry for help. And I was close to sub-coming to it. She approached and my dick pressed against my pants. I had another out of body experience.

On one hand, I saw a man wanting to grow. I had hated myself for all of the ugly things I had did to women over my lifetime. I wanted to be better than that man. Become a man that Fannie could respect, that my mother could respect, and that I could respect. Become someone that didn’t have to take advantage of vulnerable women to cover up my own insecurities. I wanted to rise above my failures and say that I honestly had grown from the young boy that participated in a gang rape in Marcy Projects.

But as the nude, sexy, drunken woman approached me, I felt the inner battle of the other side of me. I wanted her badly. Wanted to f*ck her silly right here in this kitchen. I wanted to bag the hottest chick in the game and make her Say My Name and revert back to the man I had been in my Big Pimping Days where I never turned down a sexy dime.

But as I quickly battled within, I knew in my heart that if I took advantage of this broken woman right now, I would no longer respect her or myself. I was at a crossroads and my life’s experiences had prepared me for this moment. If I went through with this, it would be no different then when I looked into Cassidy’s eyes and stripped away her spirit. I knew if I were to take Beyonce right now, there would be no more friends, no more innocent banter, no more pursuit, she’d be just like every other ho I’d f*cked.

I guess the question was, would it be worth it? She reached me, I put my hands on her lower back and she rubbed her breast against my chest. I felt myself press against her midsection and I gasped for air.

“This is what you wanted, right” she asked me softly, as she looked into my eyes.

I looked deep into hers and saw a void. I would feel too ashamed and guilty to go on with this.

“No Bee. Not like this” I let go of her.

I first saw the hurt and surprise in her eyes and then they became glossy.

“Why? Am I ugly?” she asked, which shocked the hell out of me. How could she think that?

“No. Bee, you are beautiful. But this ain’t you right here. I wouldn’t be a man to take advantage of you” I said.

I don’t know if she was properly comprehending my words or not because her face frowned up like an infant who just had candy snatched away from them. My heart hurt to see her reduced to this, I couldn’t bare to even look.

I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see anything else and paced quickly into the living room. I looked around and saw her dress, panties, and bra lying on the floor. I picked them up, and walked back into the kitchen where she was crouching and covering herself up. Maybe my rejection of her was sobering her mind up, because she was pushed against the cabinets and covering her breast so that I couldn’t see anything. I was glad, because I didn’t want to see her like that. I gave her the clothes and walked back into the living room, sighing.

She had offered herself to me in a state of despair, I was sure of it. But I wondered how her young ass would handle such rejection. After giving her enough time to clothe herself, I walked back towards the kitchen to see if she was ok. She had her dress on but was still leaning against my cabinet.

“Beyonce, are you ok?” I asked softly.

She refused to look in my direction, just sat there staring at the floor. I didn’t know what else to say to her; she looked fragile as if she could break down at any moment. I didn’t want to break her down any further. She was already at an extremely low point.

I made my way closer to her to help her up but she started breathing really heavy, very quickly. I knew that look that was now planted on her face. She was about to throw up the alcohol that had consumed her system.

“Come here, my bathroom is down the hall” I said, extending my hand.

She grabbed it and I begin to help her, but with each step came the realization that she wasn’t going to make it. We barely made it past my living room when she fell to her knees and vomited all over herself as well as my carpet. She was breathing heavy, tears were in her eyes and she was on her hands and knees. I knelled down to try and comfort her but when I put my hand on her back she was throwing up again.

I didn’t care about my carpet or the mess she was making, I was seriously concerned about this girls well being.

“Oh no” I heard her say softly as she closed her eyes to block the tears.

I didn’t know what she immediately meant until I felt it. She had accidentally urinated and it was making it’s way to my leg. I stood up, ran to the kitchen and brought back a pot and a rag. I put the pot down for her to vomit and begin wiping up as much as the pee as I could. She threw up some more, cried, and when her body had no more to give, she passed out in her own vomit on my floor.

The scene was horrific. I stood up and assessed. I didn’t want to go through her purse to find her phone and call family. I didn’t want to call the emergency room because that would almost certainly bring that publicity that she didn’t want. I could only imagine the headlines if anyone were to find out. I sat back, analyzed, and realized I would have to nurse her back myself.

I keeled down and picked up the passed out superstar and carried her to the guest room downstairs. I put her on the bed and went in my closet. I didn’t have any female clothes but I did have a large tshirt and shorts she could wear. I went into my bathroom, wet a rag, and came back in the room where she was knocked out cold.

I really didn’t want to violate this woman any further. I was sure she felt violated as hell, but I also didn’t want her to sleep in her own vomit and urine. My morality barometer was working overtime, but I figured the most ethical thing to do would be to clean her up. I walked to the bed and took a deep breath, before removing her dress. I washed her quickly with the rag to get the vomit from her chest and stomach and then put the Tshirt on over her head.

She was still wobbly and I wondered how she would react when she woke up. Her panties were soaked with her her pee and I didn’t want her sleeping in her piss, so I shook her so she could wake up. I refused to take her panties off while she was unconscious, just out of principle. I shook her and shook her, “Bee, wake up. I need you to put on these shorts”.

She opened her eyes, then closed them, and I shook her some more. She opened them barely, and I explained to her quickly that she had to put on the shorts.

“I’m tired” she said.

“No Bee. Do this first and then you can rest” I said, continuing to shake her.

I managed to get her eyes open long enough to get her to pull down her panties and put on the shorts. I couldn’t tell you if she was even conscious of what she was doing or if she was doing the equivalent of sleep walking, but I was relieved when she changed herself. She laid back on the bed and looked at me for a few seconds. I had no idea what she was thinking, her entire facial expression was blank.

I picked up her clothes and looked at her, “I’m going to wash these, ok?”

She didn’t say anything, she stared for a few moments until closing her eyes and drifting back off to sleep. I went to my laundry room, took off my shirt and washed it with her stuff. When i had returned to the room, she was curled in the fetal position, sleeping in pain. I walked over to the bed and helped to put her under the covers, tucking her in. I watched her sleep for a minute and thought about what had just occurred. I had no idea what she’d think of me or herself in the morning.

I didn’t want to be too far from the room just in case she woke up not knowing where she was so I slept in the living room. I didn’t really go to sleep though, just stared at the ceiling with the lights off. So much for Me time I thought. It seems my suggestion for her to get over her depression had made things worse. I started to feel guilty for what had happened that night.

I woke up around the time the sun was rising and decided I’d make her breakfast. She would likely be hungry when she awoke. I made grits, bacon, eggs, and toast but also placed a few fruits on her tray just in case she didn’t want hot food. I went into the room and she was still sound alseep, snoring even. I grinned to myself seeing her snore. I placed the food on a tray next to her bed and slightly closed the door. I figured she would have woke up around the time the smell of breakfast got in her room, but she remained sleep.

I didn’t know what to do to pass the time so I ran my treadmill and boxed the punching bag in my gym. I wanted to think about other things, but I couldn’t help replaying the nights events over and over in my head. I wondered if I had done the right thing or if I went out like a sucka. I had f*cked many drunk and drugged out girls before and sent them on their merry way. Why she was she any different? I didn’t know her at all. I only knew the small details about herself that she shared over the phone. Why did I have the image of her being a good girl?

I wondered if her drunken night was closer to her real self than i was giving her credit for. Maybe the innocent chick i had in mind was a facade, and the real Beyonce was the naked girl offering herself to me in the middle of my kitchen. Hell, I was starting to get a headache going back and forth with this.

After beating on the punching bag for half an hour, I walked back downstairs where I saw Beyonce sitting on my sofa with the blanket over her. She was eating my food and watching TV. What an awkward moment, I had no idea what to say to her. I ended up saying the only thing I could.

“Morning”.

She looked at me walking down the steps and smiled a weak and shy smile.

“Morning” she softly replied.

“How you feeling?” I asked.

She looked at me and chewed some of the food, “Well. One, I have this bad headache” she said still chewing.

I grinned to try and keep things lighthearted, “Liquor will do that to you”.

She didn’t laugh as I came in the living room, standing in front of her.

“What else?” I asked.

“Well. Seeing that I don’t have on the dress I wore over here, I get this feeling deep in my stomach that i did something, really, really, really stupid last night” she said timidly.

“Well, you did do one thing stupid” I said.

She looked down at her food.

“You drove over here while drunk. You played with your life, Bee. That was stupid” I said.

“Is that the only thing I did Jay? I’m feeling like I made a fool of myself last night”.

I sat down next to her and took a deep breath to buy me some time to think. I didn’t know how to tell her about herself without really making her feel bad about it. But I guess the only way I could come at her was with honesty.

“Bee. You were really drunk last night and not acting yourself. You came on to me, I had to stop you, and you threw up everywhere”.

I saw her breath hard as she struggled to cope with my words and her incoherent memories.

“Why do I remember being naked in front of you, Jay?” she asked.

I laughed to try and make it sound as easy to take as possible, “Because you were”.

She put down the food on the tray and grabbed the covers, pulling them into herself and shaking her head.

“I am so ashamed of myself right now. Like, I feel like the dumbest girl in the world” she said to herself and me.

“Beyonce, don’t. You just had a rough night”.

“No Jay. I need to accept that I am a mess. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t even look at my own reflection right now” she said wearily. I could tell, she believed the words that were leaving her mouth.

I struggled to find the words to comfort her.

“I bet you think I’m crazy, like psychotic” she said.

“No, I think you are human” I responded.

“Jay how could you see me be so ugly? Peeing on myself, throwing up, throwing myself at you, pissy drunk. So, so ugly, and not think I’m crazy? I mean, you didn’t even want me last night cause I was so ugly”.

I wasn’t liking the way this woman was seeing herself. Her negative projections were worrying me.

“Bee, listen to me. You are going through a rough period in your life, I can sense it. I didn’t have sex with you because I didn’t want to take advantage of that. I respect you too much for that”.

“But why? We barely even know each other”.

“I know enough of you to know that you are a beautiful person on the inside. I couldn’t just help to further destroy your self image, you know?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could see her fighting back the tears.

“Shawn, I am sorry” she begin before I interrupted.

“Don’t apologize to me Bee. It’s fine. I’m not tripping”.

“No, I mean I probably ruined your weekend with my shit and everyth-”

“Beyonce. STOP IT. You didn’t ruin anything. Stop beating yourself up right now. I’m not tripping, I feel you” I said sternly.

She stopped to look at me and assess my words. I looked in her eyes and I knew in my heart, she really wasn’t that drunken woman that threw herself at my last night. I hated to see her so embarrassed and ashamed in front of me. It made me self conscious.

“Be honest. Do you think I’m a loon?” she asked, out of nowhere.

“No. I think you have issues and some flaws you need to work on. But we all do. We all just deal with them in different ways. Some positive, some negative. Drinking like that is a negative” I said.

She leaned back on the sofa and eyed me. We shared a moment of silence to just let the situation sink in. I still couldn’t tell what exactly was going through her head.

“What happened last night Bee? Why did you come to my place drunk like that?”

“Jay…I have been so…stressed…out lately. Sometimes I can’t even breath because I’m so stressed. I sometimes feel like I can’t even think right. Yesterday was one of those days. I had got into a fight with my parents about going somewhere without a bodyguard. I was so nervous about seeing you”

“Nervous?”

“Yes Jay. As much as I like you, I’m still new to all of this. I’ve never been to a guy’s house like this. I didn’t know what to expect from you or myself in this situation. It was overwhelming me. I wanted to see you but I didn’t know what was going to happen. So I got a hotel and had a few drinks”.

“A few?”

“Honestly, I don’t even remember how many I had. I just know when I was leaving the hotel to come to your place, I was hot. Like sweating hot. And I was horny, really horny. And I popped in one of your cds and listened to the songs about you f*cking girls, and I wanted to be one of them. I don’t know why, I just did. I know it sounds really stupid, but I wanted to be one of the girls you’d rap about” she said.

I didn’t get exactly where she was coming from, but I continued to listen.

“I can’t believe I actually threw myself at you though. Like, it’s killing me right now that I was so damn stupid”.

I sat still and let her words marinate. There was one theme that was bothering me here. I had to know.

“Bee, do you think I’m only talking to you. Or that I only invited you here just for sex?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know”.

“What don’t you know, Beyonce?”

“Nothing. I don’t know anything Jay. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know about your life. I don’t know what in your songs are true and what’s not. I don’t know anything” she barked until she was out of breath.

She grabbed her orange juice, drank down half of it, and continued.

“And Jay, I don’t even know how to deal with guys right because I don’t know what to expect from them. That’s why I stay single and away from it. The only times beside my ex that I have ever hung around guys was when i was drunk or tipsy. I’m always so clumsy and awkward around them any other time. It’s the only way I can bring myself to trust someone”.

“And you felt you had to drink to be around me or trust me?”

“I guess so” she barked, signaling that her confession was also bringing out some frustration.

I couldn’t blame her, she was going through a lot. I was beginning to understand her mood swings.

“So what about me do you want to know?” I asked curiously.

I wanted to be as inviting as I could. I was going to answer any question she wanted to ask.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Shawn Carter” I grinned.

“No Jay. Who are you really? Tell me about your life before the fame”.

“You gotta be more specific Bee”.

“Ok, how did you get started in selling drugs?” she asked.

I knew that question was coming. I could have given her the PC answer that everyone got. But I knew that her probing went further than the surface and the response I wanted to give her had to match in intensity.

“I got started with dealing drugs when I was young. In middle school. I could say I did it because I wanted to provide for my family, but that was really a secondary reason. Honestly Bee. I wanted to have purpose. I wanted respect. I wanted to be like the hustlers in my hood that I saw growing up. I wanted the money, the women, the cars, the respect. And I followed my friends who were wanting the same thing”.

“Have you ever been shot at?” she asked.

“Yeah. Close range one time over in Bushwick. Rival crew, trying scare us off the block. I ran, and was back out there the next day. Just how things was”.

“You ever shot anyone?” she asked.

I ended up telling her the story about my brother. She listened intensely at my confession. I don’t think she believed in.

“Wow. That’s crazy” she said.

“Yeah. I bet you think I am a loon” I responded.

“Not at all Jay. I can see you now and tell you have grown alot from then” she said.

Inside, I wondered if I would have f*cked her the previous night, would that really reflect growth.

She looked me in my eyes and I could see her thinking. I had a good idea of what her next question would be when she took a deep breath and sat straight up.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”.

I was immediately uncomfortable, as I shifted in my seat and avoided eye contact with her. I could have easily lied, but I really didn’t want to lie to this girl. I had never told anyone this story. Not Fannie, not Ty, or even wrote about it in my music. She had exposed so much to me already, had allowed me in her dirty closet and allowed herself to become vulnerable to my eyes, even if indirectly. I felt I could be transparent with her. As I stared at this beautiful, curious, inquisitive woman, I made up in my mind she was worthy enough to be the first person to hear this story.

March, 1989

I hated being down in Virginia while all of my other friends were elsewhere, but I knew eventually it would bring out the best in me. Sure I had TyTy, but as much as I loved the dude, he wasn’t a layer of protection like Dehaven was. That’s why when I started f*cking when Chill, a Virginia native that Manny had introduced me to a while back to get a car, I clung to him. He was thorough, a known and respected killer around his parts. He looked the part too, 6’5 with tats all over his body. He had once been recruited by North Carolina, Georgetown, and Virginia to play basketball but his felony sheet as just a teenager scared them all off.

He was now in his mid 20′s and was making his living at a chop shop he and his man started. His crew would buy stolen cars, take the parts, and turn profits by selling them all over the country. He tried to get me to be down with them but I had made a pledge to Taj. Still, on my off days when there was nothing to do and an entire city to explore, I made sure to call up Chill.

He was a different breed of hustler. He’d intimidate people into doing what he wanted, it got to a point where his rep was enough. He never even had to resort to violence. He had respect all over the state, and being in his entourage was giving me a rep. I was just some kid from New York, no one knew me down here. So shadowing him made it easier for my hustle to gain respect in the same hoods.

I’d ride shotgun in Chill’s droptop or Beamer and smoke tons of weed with him. That’s actually how he got his name. He always had a blunt in his mouth which meant he was always chilled out. He talked with a southern slur and had sleepy eyes. The only times he’d get hype was when either he ran out of weed or he had to settle a problem with violence. Since he rarely, if ever, ran out of weed and no one dared f*ck him over, then he was always chilled out.

Chill appreciated the fact that I was a loyal and connected man. I introduced him to Klein, who was looking to purchase a Green Mustang. He specifically wanted green because he was going through an all green phase to show the streets how much money he was worth. It was risky, it was flashy, and it begged for trouble, but I respected the hell out of his tenacity.

Chill hooked Klein up and I rode shotgun with Klein down the beach, windows down, music blasting. I don’t think I ever felt so alive as a hustler than at that moment, being in another mans neck of the woods and pulling their b*tches, stunting in their city, and doing it in style. I had my head out the window, showing my jewels, mean mugging niggas, winking at hoes. I didn’t know at the time, but it was one of the worst decisions I could have ever made.

If there was one weakness of Chill and my ass at the time, it was our love for women. A good looking woman with her eye on me was almost a slam dunk everytime. Since my scare with HIV, I always wrapped up, but I was still f*cking recklessly. It was around this time that I also developed a love for strip clubs. Chill took me to my first one, and I was thrown by what women would do when they smelled money on you.

“I got my eye on shorty, right there” Chill grinned in his deep baritone accent, eyeing a big breasted woman on stage.

I didn’t have to even look for one that I wanted, because she had her eyes on me as soon as I walked in.

“Hey baby. You been here before?” she asked.

“Yeah, a few times” I lied, smiling at her.

“Well I ain’t never seent you in huure befoe. You ready to have a good time?” she grinned.

“Oh most definitely” I smiled back.

She was a thick brown skinned woman with pigtails in her hair. Before I could even check the scene, she had me sitting on a chair while she shook her ass in my face. I didn’t know what to expect at strip clubs, but I did figure they only would dance a song or so before they’d have their hands out. But not this shorty, she kept dancing and dancing. She’d sit on my lap, put her titties in my face, ride me, lick my chin, and all that shit. I squeezed her ass and took in her scent. All this and I hadn’t even pulled out my wallet yet.

“Name is Candy” she whispered in my ear seductively after dancing on me for four or five songs.

“Jay” I said to her, not even thinking right.

She smiled, said she was going in the back for a bit and that she’d be back for more. I smacked her on the ass and saw Chill getting a lap dance and grinning at me. I could get use to this instant pussy. I ended up walking to the bar, where this tall light skinned chick came over to take my order. I checked her name tag, it said Diamond.

“What can I get for you?” she said as if she was worn out.

“Let me get some Yak, Miss Diamond” I said, grinning at the woman.

She gave a forced smile and got my drink. She looked at me for a while, and I smiled back. I couldn’t tell what exactly she was thinking.

“So, Miss Diamond. How are you tonight?”

“Honestly? Ready to go home” she said smugly.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Ain’t nothing but trouble, trouble, and more trouble in places like this” she said.

Was this girl crazy? Didn’t she realize my tip was based on how much she flirted with me? I had to laugh at her downing the place that she worked at, to a customer no less.

“Damn, so why you working here, if I may ask?”

“Gotta pay tuition somehow” she said.

“I feel that. What year are you in?”

She looked at me with a skeptical look and rolled her eyes, “And why would you wanna know?”

I grinned and took a sip of my drink, “I’m interested. You way too pretty to be up in here so I may help you out”.

“Help me out?” she asked.

I was in the mood for stunting, so I pulled out a stack and started flipping through.

“I’m a generous tipper” I said.

She smiled, “That don’t impress me, Hawaiin Sophie” she said.

Ahh damn, joke was on me. She knew who I was. We shared a laugh as I shook my head and took and finished off my shot. I saw Candy make her way from the dressing room and figured it would be my time to go.

“Anyway, good talking with you Diamond. Good luck with school and all” I said.

“Hey Jay” she said, stopping me from leaving.

“Yeah?”

“Watch out for Candy. She is no good, trust me”.

I heard her words, but didn’t take them to heart. I had a buzz going and I figured she was hating, like all women tended to do. Candy got back to shaking her ass on me and even got a friend to double team my ass. I gave them each crisp Benjamins which only turned up the heat. They took off their thongs and were now bucking naked in my face. It was all too much to handle.

At one point during the night, I spotted Diamond peeping out of the corner of her eye, but I didn’t think too much of it. Just that maybe I could set up a threesome or foursome if the price was right.

“Yo, why Diamond over there telling me not to f*ck with you?” I asked Candy as she sat on my lap.

“Who Stacy? Boo, don’t worry about that boogie b*tch. She just a hater, baby” Candy smiled.

I laughed, “Yo, why they call you Candy?”

“You wanna find out tonight?” she asked.

I grinned.

By the time the night was up, Candy was whispering in my ear, telling me to meet her at her crib. Said she’d bring her friend and they would wear my ass out and she would show me why they call her Candy.

I was drunk by this time and horny, and wasn’t thinking with the right head. How could you say no to a threesome? They gave me their math, Chill dropped me off at the crib and I drove to their house which was only 20 minutes or so from the strip club.

When I saw the raggedy apartment, I should have known then. I should have known something was up, but again, I wasn’t thinking with the right head. They met me at the door, naked, threw my ass inside and on the sofa. Down to their knees they went, pulling out my dick and sucking hands free, one on my balls the other on my dick.

They went at it for a minute, and I thought about the promise she had made to me at the club.

“Yo, you said you’d tell me why they call you Candy?”

I heard her giggle at her friend.

“You wanna know baby?” she asked.

I nodded my head.

“Go get the candy” she said to the friend, who went in the kitchen and brought back peppermints. The hell were they going with this?

The friend laid down on her back, spread her legs, and put three or four of them in her pussy, deep up in there, and started laughing. This was like some freak magic show, where they used candy instead of rabbits. But I was ready to see them bring it back. Candy got on her knees, and dove straight into the girls pussy, licking and sucking. Her tongue was doing things I didn’t know could be done, and after only a short while, she had managed to retrieve each piece of candy that was in the girls vagina.

Apparently, this was a little trick they often did on stage. I was thrown by it all and ready to  f*ck both of these chicks. While I had been watching this magic show, some other magic was going on in the kitchen. Before I could even catch my composure from watching the girls show, two men ran out from the kitchen and ambushed me; one punching me cold in the jaw and knocking me on the floor. I should have known better. It was a sloppy ass set up, but the reality was it had worked. I had let my dumb ass be tricked by a couple of tricks.

The two men stomped on me as I tried to protect my head. I was scared, I didn’t know what exactly they wanted or how far they would go to get it. I immediately thought about my mom and if I would ever see her again. Funny thing was, i didn’t feel any pain. It was if I was having an out of body experience. I found myself grinning at the set up and that I had fallen for it. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, until one of them dudes spoke up returning me back to reality.

“Yeah muthaf*cka. You the b*tch ass nigga that was in the 5 trying to style on us”.

I realized then why I had been targeted at the strip joint. So predictable, if I would have been thinking right. Them boys stomped me out, took my jewels, and the stacks in my pocket. Fortunately, I had left the re-up with Ty Ty. I was counting my blessings because it could have been a lot worse, until I heard a gun cock.

These boys wanted more than my money, they wanted my life. And if I didn’t do something, anything, then I was dead. I rolled over into one of the guys and quickly tried to get up.

“Shoot em!” I heard one of the men say.

Gun shots went off, but none hit me as I reached for the razor in my shoe and begin slicing at the man with the gun. One quick slice of the hand and the one with the gun dropped it. I could have tried to pick it up or continue with the slicing but I didn’t care about the jewels or the money. I cared about my life. I pushed one of them and ran out of the front door, ducking behind houses. They followed me, cursing at each other, but I jumped in a dumpster and they ran right by.

They were obviously some small time stick up kids. They were sloppy, weak, and reckless, and let me escape. Sure they had my jewels, but I knew where their b*tches worked. I was sure the girls had left the apartment after they rushed me, so I was hoping they would think I had gotten got. When I went home, called Chill and told him what happened, we staked out that strip joint and saw that my assumption was right. There they were, Candy and her friend walking into the place at noon.

As we staked out the place some more, I saw Diamond pull up.

“Yo, that’s the girl that told me to watch out for them. Her name is Stacy” I said.

“You think she was part of it?” Chill asked.

“Nah, she tried to warn me about em”.

“You trust her?”

“We can use her” I responded.

Before she could get out of her car and walk inside we pulled up and I dipped my head out. My eye was black and face was bruised and when she saw me, I could tell she wasn’t surprised. She was surprised about one thing though.

“Wow, you’re alive?” she asked.

“Yeah, I am. But them niggas that did this to me. They are bout to expire” I said.

She looked around the near empty parking lot and backed up a bit.

“Nah Stacy, don’t be afraid. I need your help” I said.

“How you know my name?”

I laughed.

“Stacy, if you can help me out with this thing right here. Your tuition. Paid for. I got you girl” I said.

Chill looked uncomfortable, I could tell he didn’t trust her or the situation. He didn’t like asking for help.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Find out who the two niggas are that robbed me”.

I didn’t know if she would come through or not, by we exchanged numbers. Two weeks later, she called me and she had the info. They had met the strippers that set me up in the changing room, and she overheard them saying they would be at a club on Friday. Friday night, Chill and I were at that club along with Stacy. Her job was to point the niggas out to us, and as we waited for them to show, she and I danced to “Just Got Paid” by Johnny Kemp.

The club was hype and my adrenaline was just as strong. We had ski mask in our pockets and extra clips. I had never planned to murder someone before, but this was Chill’s expertise. He wasn’t about second chances and letting shit slide. Someone tried to f*ck you over, you murder them. That was his philosophy and it was rubbing off on me. I felt I had to murder these kids, I had to.

Stacy tried to get me to lighten up as we danced, and it was then I really realized how pretty she actually was. We had talked on the phone a few times since the robbery, and she was also an aspiring model. Shit, she had what it took to make it. Before long, she was tapping me on the shoulder and pointing out the two guys.

“That’s them”.

She didn’t even have to point them out because I saw one of the dudes wearing my chain. That was the ultimate disrespect, them niggas had to be got. I gave Stacy a kiss on the cheek and told her I’d call her later that night. I also slid her a stack. She smiled and bit her lip.

Chill and I left the club, and waited in the car. It was a long ass wait, but my adrenaline kept me awake and ready. I was nervous on the inside, almost shitting bricks as I had a long time to digest what I was about to do. Chill was pep talking me, but I really needed silence as I prepared to become a murderer. After around three hours of waiting, people started leaving the club. We watched the doors closely looking for our targets and sure enough they came out with at chick at both of their arms. They got in their cars, and we followed them.

Chill drove, while I put on the mask and gloves. They drove to a motel, parked, and went in. I started to feel the knots in my stomach tighten.

“You ready, Jay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Let’s go”.

The motel was virtually empty, only a few cars parked but we still knew it would have to be a quick job. In and out. Chill walked to the door, peaked in an opening in the blinds and saw them f*cking the girls. They would be caught with their pants down.

Chill kicked in the door and I was right behind them. The chicks started screaming instinctively but Chill killed that noise quick by firing a shot into one of the beds.

“Shut the f*ck up” he screamed.

I walked over to one of the beds and smacked the dude who had worn my chain with my gun. His head hit the bedboard and he let out a bloody groan. Chill wasn’t about any games or milking a situation. He walked over to the other bed and put a hole right in the guys face. The abrupt sound of the gunshot startled me.

I glanced over at the now dead man who was slumped over, head bleeding and then at the two women who were on the floor with their hands to their mouths.

“Finish your man” Chill said, looking at me.

I pulled the gun back up and aimed it at the kid who was in tears….

November 2001

Beyonce had glossy eyes as I told her the story. I paused, not knowing what she’d think once I revealed the last fact of my story. It was an embarrassing story, something that I never thought I’d be retelling to anyone, let alone a female.

“So you shot him?” she asked me, eyes glued to mine.

“No” I said softly, “I couldn’t pull the trigger. I was crying”.

She didn’t say anything, just listened.

“Under that mask, tears were coming down my cheek Bee. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take another mans life. I didn’t have it in me”.

“Wow” she said, taking in my confession, “So yall let him go?”

“Nah. Chill got tired of waiting and shot the guy twice. We bailed after that”.

I looked at her and tried to gauge what she was thinking about me. I wasn’t a murderer, and I know many would say I was a coward. It was never a story I could detail in my songs. I was now even beginning to regret telling her the story. How could I tell her this?

We didn’t say anything for awhile, I listened to the air condition kick on and the clock tick and tock. She finally spoke up after I started scratching my chin.

“Wow Shawn. That’s a sad story. I don’t even know what to say. I’m speechless. My life stories seem childish compared to yours” she sighed.

“Nah your stories are just as real Bee. We just came from different struggles”.

“No, trust me. My stories are nowhere near as real as that. Unless you count being teased for my baby phat, a real struggle” she said, smiling.

I grinned.

“Stacy. That names sounds familiar”.

“Yeah. That was the girl that cursed you out. She ended up helping me out in the game, carrying my drugs for me, spying. Stuff like that. I ended up moving her to New York and paying for her so she could get her modeling career started” I said.

Beyonce nodded her head, “And what happened with Chill?”

“Chill got locked up for his Chop Shop about two months later. He just got out recently, actually”.

“That’s crazy” she said.

I could tell she was floored by this entire conversation and it seemed it help to take her mind off last nights events.

“You know Bee. I haven’t told that story to anyone. You are honestly the first” I said.

She looked at me suspiciously, “Why are you telling me?”

“Because I want you to trust me” I said.

We shared a gaze, where no words needed to be spoken. This was a conversation of trust, and we could tell by the sincere looks in each others eyes that we could trust each other.

“Bee, tell me about your ex boyfriend. What do you mean he tried to get back with you?” I asked, breaking our trance.

She seemed to be taken back by my question.

“Well” she stretched.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” I said.

“No, I want to. Just don’t know where to start”.

“How about the beginning?” I grinned.

“Ok, his name is Lyndell. Wow, can’t believe I’m speaking on this” she said.

I laughed. She took a deep breath.

“Ok, so yeah we met when we were teens and we dated on and off for a long time. I guess it was puppy love or whatever. My family liked him at first, but my daddy ended up cutting my time with him because I had to focus on the group”.

“It made you mad?” I asked.

She laughed, “I was actually ok with it. But he was pissed something serious. I felt really bad about cutting him off like that. I felt guilty so I started sneaking behind my daddy’s back to go chill with him”.

“Uh oh. Did Matthew find out?” I asked.

“Later on he did. Lyndell cheated on me though at one point. I don’t even remember when, I just remember I was really hurt. I mean, just the name cheating sounds so bad. I didn’t know how to take it, I was so young. I thought it meant I wasn’t good enough or something”.

I could already tell, this girl took things to heart. She was a very sensitive woman. I began to wonder how tough her skin was.

“You ever slept with him?” I asked.

She blushed, and sighed as I grinned. She was going to have to answer this question sooner or later.

“Jay, you are going to think I am a ho” she said.

“Huh? For sleeping with him?”

“No not that. I wanted to get revenge on him for cheating on me…so I….cheated on him back” she said.

I wasn’t exactly following her, so I raised my eyebrow. “How so?” i asked.

“I lost my virginity to his friend” she said closing her eyes with her head down, but a smile on her face.

I could tell it was embarrassing for her to admit, but I was glad as hell she was admitting it. It meant something for her to be able to share something like that. Brutal honesty, I loved it.

“Wow” I said, grinning.

“See!? You think I’m a ho, huh”.

I laughed, “Nah. Just not as innocent as I thought”.

“After last night, I don’t know why you would think I was innocent”.

“Last night wasn’t you Bee. I’m sure of it” I said.

“Don’t be so sure, Shawn. Last night wasn’t the only night I got drunk and threw myself at a guy”.

“Word?” I asked, curiously.

She blushed, “See. You are really going to think differently of me” she sighed.

“I like getting to know you, the real you” I responded.

“Yeah. But everytime I think of those moments, I feel so dirty and used. I’ve never had a real special sexual experience which is why I swore off sex until I found someone special. Everytime I’ve had sex in my life, it made me feel worse than i felt before. I see my girls out there enjoying sex and all that, but for me it’s like. Sex is too much drama”.

“Sex is wonderful with the right person, Bee”.

“Yeah, just gotta find that right person” she answered, eyeing me.

We both felt it, I was sure of it. That moment where you feel gravity pulling you towards another person. Where time slows down and the birds chirp and you notice how beautiful and perfect someone is for you. It hit me hard as I looked at her. Even in that oversized Tshirt, little to no makeup, and some crumbs on her lips that she never wiped off, she was as beautiful as I had ever seen her. It was such a strong emotion for the tension to be this thick.

“Shawn. Thank you” she said, breaking the silence.

“For what?”

“For not taking advantage of my foolishness last night. I think the world of you for not doing that” she expressed.

“You don’t have to thank me Bee. Just know that next time you are butt naked in front of me, I don’t know if I’m turning it down again” I laughed.

She laughed with me but tried to hide her smile with her hands. I could tell it was still embarrassing for me to bring up her drunken moment. But I’d rather her laugh about it then be angry about it. It really wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and we could move on from it.

“You feel better?” I asked.

“Somewhat. My head still hurts. And your toast was stale” she grinned.

“Don’t talk down on my toast. You slept in!” I laughed.

She threw a pillow at me and we would end up play fighting for a time until she complained about her headache returning. When I let my guard down she slapped me in the head with a pillow. For that, I tickled her relentlessly until she was begging for mercy.

“My head” she pouted after I left her on the floor, giggling.

We ended up popping in Shrek and watching the first half of the movie until she got a call.

“Oh shit. I forgot all about that” she said to herself once she saw who was calling.

“What’s up?”

“Jay I gotta go. I’m sorry” she said, hoping from the sofa.

“No problem. Let me get your stuff” I said.

I got her cleaned dress and she changed quickly. She was sure, her people would be very upset at her when she returned to Houston. I wondered if I had messed things up with her by inviting her. I wondered how she felt about the little trip in general. It was a disaster by all traditional accounts, but we did learn a bit about each other that maybe we wouldn’t have under any other circumstance.

Still, I was unsure about her thoughts on the trip as we hugged each other. But once the embrace started and didn’t stop, I knew in my heart that she did appreciate this bit of Me time she had.

“Thanks again, Jay” she said softly as we hugged.

“No problem” I whispered before kissing her forehead.

She looked up at me, bit her lip to hide her smile, and walked out the door to her rental.

“Drive safe Bee” I yelled from the doorway as I watched her get in.

She shot me a smile and waved. As she drove off, I stood by the door and wondered how I had gotten Beyonce butt naked in my crib, and I didn’t even get as much as a kiss on the lips. Perplexing, huh. One thing was for sure, my like for her had grown into infatuation.

Still, as I went to Europe for some International shows, I realized how undefined our growing friendship still was. I’d call her, miss her call, and she wouldn’t call me back for days. We had no labels for what we were, and when I tried to bring up us potentially labeling it, she’d detour from it. I had done the same thing countless times with women, so I knew when someone wasn’t ready for a relationship.

Once I got that hint, I fell back. Once again, our relationship was proving to be a hot and cold one. One moment, we are on the verge of tears, having deep conversations about love, life, and happiness, and the next day we can’t find a topic of conversation. She told me she would see someone for her depression, but I believe she just told me this to shut me up. Once I got that vibe, I didn’t even bring it up.

And this was precisely what frustrated me about her. She really didn’t know what she wanted. She was a confused, lost, girl that had trouble trusting. And even after my behavior at my crib suggested that I was down for her, she had reserves about letting me in her head. I could tell things were going on with her, but she’d gloss over them and act like everything was fine. It turned me off. If she couldn’t be real with me 24/7, then I wasn’t interested in her. It was as if all the time and energy I devoted into getting through her walls didn’t carry over. I’d climb the hill get to the top, and the next day I’m right back at the bottom looking up. I couldn’t deal with that. I couldn’t deal with her young ass rationale when it came to courtship.

By the time December rolled around, my birthday specifically, I was over trying to force something real. I met a few girls over in Europe and I dated them. On my birthday, I brought one of them back to my hotel. I hadn’t talked to Beyonce in a week or two, but I got the call right in the middle of me f*cking the British shorty.

I had a special ringer for Beyonce so I knew it was her when my phone went off. I wanted to ignore it, I really did, but there was just something about this damn girl that had my heart. I rolled over to answer the phone, to the chagrin of the shorty I had been sexing. I expected to hear happy birthday but was met with hostility instead.

“Yea” I said nonchalantly.

“Did you tell anyone?” she said in her southern, snappy tone.

I looked over at the clock, it was 2 A.M. over here. It was mighty bold of her to snap on me like this.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Have you told anyone that we talk? There are rumors going around about us dating, Jay. Did you tell anyone?” she asked, obviously upset.

“No. And we don’t date anyway, so it’s nothing more than a stupid rumor” I snapped back.

I had forgot all about the shorty that was laying beside me in the bed. Damn.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked in her English accent. Black English chicks were really a turn on to me. I didn’t want to see her go, especially not over wishy washy Beyonce.

I put Beyonce on mute, “Nah you aren’t. This is just a friend. Hold on” I said.

She looked over at me, pulled the covers up to shield her breast and waited.

I put the phone back to my ear and Beyonce was going off.

“I got my daddy questioning me and everyone coming at me. And Jay, is anyone there with you? Sounds like I heard someone in the background?”

“Nah” I lied.

“Then Say my name” she said.

I wasn’t about to play these games with her, “Aight I lied. Yeah, someone is”.

“Figures” she said, in a noticeably upset tone.

I really could not figure this girl out.

“Anyway. No, I haven’t told anyone. It’s probably someone from your camp” I said.

“Oh I doubt that” she shot back at me.

I didn’t understand where all of her anger was coming from and why it was being directed at me.

“What’s your problem, Bee? What did I do?”

She didn’t say anything. I could sense the girl in bed with me was growing impatient, but at this point, I really wanted to know what was wrong with Bee. I got out of bed, put on some boxers and made my way out on the balcony, closing the sliding door behind me.

“Why are you giving me attitude?” I asked.

“I’m just upset. I don’t know how people could have found out about me coming over”.

I was beginning to get annoyed by the secrecy shit. She took it beyond it being private matters, it’s as if she wanted the CIA to classify her personal business.

“And so what if people think so Bee? I mean, what’s the big deal?”

“Jay, my career. And know what. I don’t even know why we are talking about this now. You got some girl giving you some birthday sex, so I will just call you later”.

“No. We’ll talk about it now” I said harsher than I intended.

She didn’t say anything, I think it caught her off guard.

“Bee, why are you so angry right now? What’s the deal?”

“Do you just have to have sex with other women?” she asked, out of the blue.

“Is that what this is about?” I asked.

“Answer my question”.

“Beyonce, come the f*ck on. You have made it perfectly clear that you aren’t ready for anything serious. And now I can’t mess with other women? I’m not f*cking you, so I can’t f*ck anyone now?”

“See, I knew this was about sex”.

I was blown away at this point. What in the hell was she talking about? I was slowly but surely realizing why I didn’t want to mess with young girls anymore.

“Bee. You are the one afraid of relationships. You are the one letting your daddy run your life. You are the one that won’t let me in. You are the one that is hot and cold”.

I looked inside the glass door and saw the chick leaving the room.

“Damn” I said into the receiver on accident.

“I’m glad you finally said what you think of me” I heard her say in a weak voice.Oh God, what now. Was she going to cry? It was if if she wanted me to mess up or prove to her that I had ill intentions. It was like she wantedme to be on some bullshit.”Beyonce” I sighed trying to really calm myself before I said something I couldn’t clean up.”Beyonce, what do you want from me? Huh? I don’t get it. I don’t understand. What is it that you want?”"I want to know why you want me” I heard her scream into the receiver.We both remained silent after this outburst. I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into. I could hear the fear in her voice. This was the main issue. I could feel it. She was afraid. And as easy as it would have been for me to hang up the phone on her and dead this up and down friendship, I remembered the night at my crib and the thoughts I had. She was a work. A real work. But man, the girl was worth the fight. I truly believed it.

“Bee, I am just as afraid as you are” I ended up saying, breaking the silence.

“Afraid of what?” she whispered.

“The unknown. This. Being hurt. Being cheated on. All of it. Don’t you know I’m an insecure person too?” I asked.

“Seems like you are the one with it all together and I’m the one with the screws missing” she said.

“Bee, listen. I am far from having it all together. Can I be honest with you right now?”.

“Yes”.

“I always dated girls that i could lock away from everyone. It all stems from me being cheated on when I was younger. Since then, I never wanted to date anyone that alot of people knew or alot of men had access to. But Bee, with you, I am willing…f*cking willing to face those insecurities. You are one of the most sought after women in the world. And I am willing to deal with all of the fears I have about being with someone that had the means to hurt me”.

“Jay. It’s just so hard for me to accept your words. I want to, I really do, but I’m just so scared, you know? The way you took care of me that night at your house both scares me and makes me feel alive. I don’t know how to handle these emotions”.

“It’s a balancing act, Bee. There is no reward without the risk”.

“Yeah” she said, implying that she agreed with my thoughts.

“I accept your flaws and all, Bee” I said.

She laughed, “I hate being so overly emotional around you. I really don’t want you to think I’m this broken person that doesn’t know how to love”.

“Yo, on the real. If I thought you couldn’t love or didn’t know how to, I wouldn’t even pursue you”.

She sighed, “When will you be back in the States?”

“In a few weeks”.

“Can I see you?”

“Sure you can. Would you be free?”

“I’m willing to clear my schedule to see you, Jay”.

Those words were music to my ears. Finally, Beyonce was willing to make a mature, decision that wasn’t guided by someone else, me or her people. This was what I was looking for.

“You want to come to my crib again?” I asked.

“No, I will be in L.A. in a few weeks. Could you fly out there?” she asked.

“Yeah, I could. And where would we go? Disneyland?” I joked.

She wasn’t joking.

“I want you to come to my hotel suite. I’ll have it to myself” she said seriously.

“You sure about that?” I laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. Oh, and Jay. Happy birthday” she said in a low, somber voice.

I couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but we made plans to see each other once I returned to the U.S. I had been having alot of fun overseas, but after that date was made, I couldn’t wait to get back home. I was excited to see her and see where the next chapter in our story would take us.

Although it would mean a few hundred thousand dollars would be lost, I was relieved when the last few dates of my tour was canceled and I got to return home early. I put on the front for friends and the media that I was disappointed that the tour was cut short due to disputes with the promoter, I was really looking forward to seeing Bee. But when I told her about it, she seemed to be taken back.

“I was expecting you in another 2 weeks?” she said.

“Well I could still see you in two weeks. I was just letting you know I was back in the states” I responded.

She remained silent for a moment, presumably allowing those thoughts that led to our next date to materialize. When I asked if she was still on the line, she ignored that question and suggested something that caught me off guard.

“Would you want to come to my house, this week? I mean, if you weren’t busy or something?”

I didn’t have anything planned after my abrupt return to the States, so I immediately accepted her proposition. It surprised me though, and when I got off the phone with her I wondered what she had in mind. She was still a shy and reserved girl as far as I was concerned, so inviting me over to her home was something I would have never thought she’d ask so soon. She told me her parents would be gone and that I could stay a night if I wanted to. It was funny to me hearing her explain the details because it reminded me of high school.

She still lived with her parents, which served as a damn good reminder of how young and not independent she was. She actually was going to sneak me over while they would be gone so we could hang out. The thought tickled me to death, but because I did want to see her soon, I accepted.

She had invited me over on a Thursday but I told her I wasn’t comfortable staying in her home, especially if it had to be hidden from her parents. I told her I’d come and stay at a hotel, after we spent the day together. We agreed to the plans. I tried to hint around what she wanted to do on our semi date, but she kept skating around our activity.

“You planning to meet me at the door, drunk and naked or something?” I grinned over the phone, a day before I was to fly out.

She laughed, “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?.”

“I can’t Bee. I still don’t believe it happened”.

“You’re not the only one” she mumbled.

“But seriously. What you got planned?”

“Why can’t you just come and see?” she asked.

“I would like to know what to wear. Should I be casual or formal?”

“Dress like you normally dress. And bring a bathing suit for the hotub”.

“Hot tub?” I smiled, devilishly.

“Yeah, we have one”.

“I’m not asking if you have one. I’m confirming that you want us to GET in it” I boasted.

She laughed, “I think it would be fun. I’ve never been in one with another dude. I want to try it”.

She sounded embarrassed, like it was all so new and interesting to her. I could tell she was never the type to throw parties when her parents were gone, because if she did then she would have had all of this out of her system by now. She was just 20 years old, and was using me as her way to experience her first taste of adult living. It was cute, but I also started feeling a certain way about it. Like I was being used so she could become a woman.

Still, I packed and prepared for the two day trip to Houston. I’d spend the first day with her and meet up with Scarface on the second day; he had asked me to be on his next album The Fix. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone. The only problem was I really was having trouble reading Beyonce.

I could tell she liked me, I no longer debated that. But I didn’t know what exactly she wanted out of our friendship and dating. Was this a fling for her? Was this her chance to break away from her innocence? Was this a purely innocent encounter where we’d watch TV, kiss a bit in the hottub, and then go our separate ways? Or dis she plan for this to be a bit more mature? Was she planning for this to be a sexual thing? A f*ck session?

It was starting to annoy me how ambiguous she was being. When I asked jokingly if she had sex in stored, she laughed and changed the subject. With any other woman, I wouldn’t even have to ask because it was just one of those things that came with the territory. I wasn’t use to waiting around for sex or wondering when it would happen. The girls I were use to dealing with weren’t use to it either We were always compatible like that.

I figured this trip with Bee would go a long way in answering my questions about her and us. We had spent months and months getting to know each other digitally, but even though I had seen her naked shortly, we were still virtually strangers. I really wanted to interact with her without the alcohol in her system. I was really ready for this date.

I checked into a hotel and she sent a Limo to pick me up. She didn’t want to ride because she didn’t want the driver to see her and I together. She was really paranoid about anyone seeing us together. I had my qualms about it as well, but not to the extent that she had. The only people that knew about me were her cousin Angie, Kelly, and her publicist Tracy. And from all intents, she wanted to keep it this way.

I didn’t exactly know what to bring so I dressed in a matching Rocawear shirt and pants outfit and carried with me a backpack with a change of clothes, swimming shorts, and a box of Magnums. I didn’t know if I’d be using them, but I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry.

The Hotel wasn’t very far from her neighborhood of River Oaks. It was what you would expect from a community for the rich. Big houses, large green lawns, and luxury cars parked out front. I remembered how it was for me the first time I moved into that type of neighborhood. There was resistant from many of the older white neighbors. They didn’t want a young, rich, black rapper next to them. I guess they figured I’d be having wild parties and selling drugs from my bedroom. Or maybe they just didn’t want me bringing their property value down. I had no idea, but I found it funny that I was being mentioned in the Forbes magazine that I’m sure they were reading.

I started to think that Beyonce had it easy. She was a woman and a singer, I was sure she wasn’t met with any resistance to live in a rich community like this. When we pulled up to her home which was on the edge of the community, I took a sip of Sprite and smiled. It was one big ass home, a few stories and probably 2-3 rooms on each floor. I guess if a girl were to be sneaking a man over here, there would be some great places to hide him once the parents came home.

I got out of the limo and checked the address to make sure I was at the right place. She hadn’t even met me outside even though I called to let her know I was only a few minutes away. The limo driver brought my bag to me and I slid him a Benjamin, then I called her again. She answered on the first ring, sounding nervous as hell.

“Hey, I see you from the window” she said, without as much as a hello.

“Damn Bee, you couldn’t even meet me out here?” I grinned towards the house.

“I don’t want anyone seeing me, Jay. Especially the driver” she said.

I started to reply but she quickly interrupted, “Could you hurry up and come inside? I don’t want my nosey ass neighbors wondering who you are”.

She really was paranoid I thought before laughing.

“Seriously Jay”.

“I’m coming, I’m coming” I said, hanging up and quickly walking up her driveway. I went to knock but noticed the door was already slightly opened. She wasn’t even going to open the door for me. This girl was crazy paranoid.

I walked in and she was sitting in a chair by the window, where a Telescope used for looking at the moon was pointed straight ahead at her driveway. She was smiling shyly, looking at the puzzled grin on my face.

“Hey” she smirked.

“Hey” I smirked back, looking at her and then at the Telescope.

“Wanna splain’ that?” I asked, pointing.

“I was checking for my neighbors” she laughed.

“My God Bee, you are way too up tight about this. You’re making me feel like I’m back in middle school” I said.

She stood up and smiled, “Sorry. I’m just kind of nervous. I didn’t have a drink like you told me to. I don’t know, I’m just really nervous about this” she said, as if the thoughts were coming too fast for her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to hang out today then?”

“I’m sure Jay, just bare with me a minute. I’ll be fine. How was your flight?”

I set my bag down, “It was fine”.

We stared at each other in this big ass house and the awkward moments was completed. We really didn’t know each other like this, to be alone in this place, and feel comfortable. I was more so not feeling her uneasiness, more than anything. I had been able to click almost instantly with many women, but her shyness was something I wasn’t adept to. I knew if our date was going to go well, I would have to be the one to break the ice. I was going to have to cut the thick tension; I decided to use jokes to help her settle in.

“You know, with all this secret shit, I thought for sure you’d meet me at the door naked” I grinned.

It was then I noticed how casual she was dressed. She had very little obvious makeup and her her in braids. She was wearing Tshirt, jean shorts, and flats.  I guess we would be inside for the day, based on how dressed down she was.

“If I would have had that drink, maybe I would have” she joked back.

“Well, I do have this Sprite, you want some?” I said, extending my hand.

She took and deep breath and exhaled, still smiling.

“Jay, come inside”.

Her face muscles had to be working overtime, because her shy smile just wouldn’t leave. She ended up showing me around her place, starting with the living room, dining room, family room, TV room, award room, and various other rooms that had some formal title attached to it. Most of them looked like they were never even touched, like straight out of the ad. I got the feeling that someone would be murdered if they dared to eat in that damn  spotless dining room.

She led me upstairs and showed me around and it was clear that this was where the family actually spent most of their time. Rooms didn’t have that DO NOT TOUCH look to them, and when she showed me her sister Solanges room, I burst into laughter. It looked like your average teenage room, but it was a magazine photo of me on her wall that caught me be surprise.

“She a Jay-Z fan?” I asked, speaking in third person.

She poked me in the shoulder and we moved on. I didn’t really care about touring her home; you seen one big house and you’ve seen them all. But I let her show me around because it was good for breaking the ice. She talked, I would joke, make her smile some more, and it also gave us a few small talk conversations. Because of a piece of African Art in the hallway, we got a chance to talk about taking trips to Africa. She told me how it was her dream to make the trip out there. I thought it was a good look.

“So you want to get back to them African roots, huh?” I asked.

“Of course”.

“Tryna see the Egyptian Pyramids and so on?”.

“Well yeah” she answered, “But I want to see West African. Where African Americans are from”.

I was surprised at her answer. Most black people I knew only talked about Cleopatra and other parts of Africa. Very few of them mentioned West Africa specifically. I had to admit that I had stereotyped her from our first meeting. Took her as a pretty face with a small view of the world, like most beautiful women I knew. Maybe I was wrong.

“Word. I feel you on that” I replied.

She smiled and we continued on with the tour. She showed me bathrooms, giggling at the design of one of her sinks. And finally, she we stopped at her room.

“Oh I definitely want to see this” I grinned.

She put her hand on the closed doorknob and smiled.

“Now this may be the only time I ever let a nigga up in here, so you better appreciate it” she beamed, waving her finger at me.

“Hopefully this ain’t my last time up here” I laughed.

She rolled her eyes and revealed her messy ass bedroom.

“Tada!” she said, walking in, twirling around with her arms in the air.

I stepped in, seeing an umade bed, a popeyes chicken box in the trashcan, and random things lying around in no particular spot.

“The hell is this?” I remarked.

She laughed, “What?”

“This is the messiest bedroom I have ever seen”.

“Well” she laughed, “This is me and my organized confusion”.

“I cleaned up my spot when you came over and everything” I said, shaking my head.

“I ain’t cleaning up for you” she smiled.

“Oh, I’ve noticed” I said sarcastically.

She pushed me on the shoulder and I continued shaking my head. We joked about it on our way back down the stairs. It had been half an hour, lunch was approaching, and I was a bit hungry. Our conversation had been pretty light hearted but I could tell she wasn’t as tense as before. I liked seeing her calm down a bit.

“So what do you have planned for us today?” I asked.

“What do you want to do?” she replied.

Was this some trick question or something? Didn’t she know how dates worked? She invited me, she was suppose to have the day planned.

“Whatever it is you have in mind” I said.

She looked confused, like she hadn’t anticipated she really WOULD have to plan activities for us. Damn Bee, did I have to do everything?

“Well, I am kind of hungry, how about lunch?” I suggested.

I hadn’t even ate breakfast for the morning, so I was hoping she had taken some initiative to at least have that covered.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Food”

“Well I can’t cook, so we’d have to order something”.

I wouldn’t believe it. Actually, looking at her sheltered ass, I actually did believe it, but I didn’t want to. I picked on her for not knowing how to make anything aside from frozen food and sammiches, and in the midst of this she suggested us ordering from a place she loved.

“What’s a Po Boy?” I asked.

“It’s a seafood sandwich. Like shrimp and stuff. It’s really good, I think you’d like it”.

She pulled off a menu from the refrigerator and showed me the options. There were all types of Po Boys sandwiches, but she recommended the Grilled Scrimp. She called, put the phone on speaker, and the guy on the phone knew her by voice.

“Hey, Beyonce. How’s everything been going with you?” he asked.

Beyonce looked at me and smiled, “Everything is going good Mr. James. Just hungry, you know me”.

He laughed, “Yes I know. So what can I get for you, sweetheart?” he asked.

She ordered two Po Boys, one Oyster Po Boy and one Fried Shrimp, and she also ordered one Grilled Shrimp for me. She added some fries and cole slaw to the order and I simply bit my nails, staring at her. It was hilarious. She kept herself from smiling as she completed the order with the man.

“You weren’t lying when you said you was hungry girl” the man said over the line.

Beyonce snickered, “Oh hush Mr. James. This ain’t all for me”.

“You sure? Cause I can add some extra shrimp on there for you” he said.

“I wouldn’t stop you if you did” she laughed.

“Ok babygirl. The total is 33.13. We’ll be there in 45 minutes”.

“Thanks Mr. James”.

“No problem. And tell your mom I said hey”.

When she clicked her cell off, I continued staring at her. She stared back and gave me a stank face, suggesting that she wasn’t paying my stares any attention. I had to smile at it.

“So seems you know this Mr. James fellow, really good”.

“Yeah, he’s been delivering Po Boys to my family for like 15 years”.

“To your family, or to you?”

She laughed, “Oh you got jokes? Well let me tell you right now. I may have a cute figure but I can eat. Don’t be surprised when you see me in action”.

“Oh I believe you Bee. Trust me. I believe every word” I said.

She ended up putting in the movie Save the Last Dance. Didn’t ask me what I wanted to watch or anything, just put that shit in like I wasn’t there. I had to laugh when i remembered that I told her I’d do whatever it was she wanted to do.

“Save the last dance?” I asked, setting up a joke.

“Yep. You seen it?”

“I guess I’m about to”.

“Why you looking like that?” she smirked.

“This is Grade A, chick flick” I laughed.

“Hey now. Don’t try to complain now, I gave you a chance to have a say. Plus, this is Me time. The Beyonce holiday, right?” she smiled.

I conceded to her argument by saying “This shit better not be boring”.

We started watching and I was overtaken by just how boring it really was. It was a predictable, teen version of Dirty Dancing, but fortunately, the doorbell was ringing, interrupting the sleep that was starting to come into my eyes. Beyonce told me to stay put as she went to the door. Since we were on our little date, I expected her to quickly pay the delivery guy and get her ass back inside, but a few minutes went by and I could still hear them talking in the doorway. This wasn’t my home and she wasn’t my woman, so I didn’t feel right walking that way to see what was taking so long. But it was getting on my nerves. After six minutes had elapsed, she returned to the TV room with a bag of food in her hands.

I don’t know how I was looking, but I reckon I didn’t look too amused because she looked at me and immediately begin apologizing.

“Sorry for taking so long. I was surprised at how was at the door”.

“The delivery guy?”

“Yeah” she said softly.

“Who was he? An ex or something?” I asked, really trying to connect the dots.

“Well, not exactly” she responded.

I didn’t feel it was my place to chase her in this conversation until she revealed what it is she was talking about. So I remained silent and went for the bag, to unpack the food. I would look at her every few seconds waiting for her to continue. Damn, young girls could be notorious for this shit. I decided to just ask.

“So, you gonna tell me or what?”

“He was my first. The guy I told you about that was my ex’s friend. I had no idea he was still working there” she said.

I was taken back, I looked behind me at the blinds but he was already gone. I looked back at Bee who was looking like she was trying to gauge my reaction.

“So yall caught up?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorta. I was just kind of shocked when I saw him at the door. He said he didn’t know I lived there but I think he was lying. I’m sure Mr. James told him”.

“So he is a delivery boy?”

“Yeah. He was a delivery boy back when I was in High School too. He said he is going to the community college. Said he and Lyndell don’t speak much anymore. He asked could he call me” she said, shaking her head.

“What did you say?” I asked curiously.

“Told him no. He got the goods one time. I could tell he was thinking maybe there was something still there, but no. Yuck”.

“Well, he will always be your first” I said.

“Don’t remind me. That shouldn’t have ever happened” she sighed.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I thought I already told you?”

“Nah, you just told me you wanted revenge on your ex. You didn’t go into detail”.

She surveyed the situation and then went to unwrap some more of the food. She passed me my sandwich and then cut one piece off from both of her sandwiches. She had four halves of sandwiches but put two of them back into the box, I presumed for later.

“Well. Lyndell and me went to eat at the place a lot. He introduced me to Craig, there. Craig is the guy who just left, by the way” she begin.

“I follow you” I smiled, opening a ketchup package to put on the fries.

“Ok, so Craig started to tag along with us to the movies and stuff. It kind of annoyed me cuz they would spend more time talking to each other than Lyndell would to me. But whatever, I let it slide for a few months. One day I told him that Craig couldn’t come along with us anymore”.

I was eating the fries by this time. Some good cajun style fries. And as I looked at the sandwich and smelled, I had to admit that she was right. This was some good ass food. She took a bite out of her sandwich and I did as well.

“Is it good?” she asked.

I nodded and chewed, wiping my fingers off with napkins. She licked her fingers, she didn’t even look at a napkin. She then continued.

“Ok, anyway. Lyndell wanted us to start double dating. And to make him happy I say ok. So we went on a double date one time, and they didn’t tell me that the other girl had to be home by a certain time. So we went out to Miniature golf, and then she had to leave like at 9. And after we dropped her off, it was the 3 of us yet again!”

I laughed, “So what did yall do?”

“What else? We went to the Po Boy place to eat. Craig got us discounts or whatever. So when we are at the table, Lyndell went to the bathroom to wash his hands and next thing I know I feel his hand rubbing on my leg. I’m like ‘Boy are you crazy? What if Lyndell finds you touching me like that’. Man I was hot mad. Like for real”.

“Damn, did you tell your boy?” I asked.

“Nah, like a stupid girl I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He apologized and everything. So I kind of forgot about it but everytime we went on dates, the girl always had to go home early. I-”

“How old were yall? I asked, wanting to have perspective on the story.

“Like 16″ she responded.

“Damn. You ain’t have a curfew?”

“I did, but it wasn’t at no 9 or 9:30 on a weekend” she laughed.

We took more bites out of our food and she continued.

“But long story short, Craig ended up trying me again! He just did it on the sly. He passed me his number one day and told me I could call him if Lyndell was tripping. I thought he was triffling to do that behind his friends back, but I didn’t say anything. I don’t know why I didn’t”.

“Because you liked it” I said.

“No, like seriously. I didn’t like him like that”.

“I’m not saying you liked him like that. But I am saying you liked the attention he was giving you like that. You liked the danger of it. It’s why you ain’t tell your boy”.

She looked at me but I could tell she didn’t agree.

“Nah, I just think I didn’t want no drama or them to be fighting over me. I just kept it to myself”.

“Anyway” I said, agreeing to disagree, “So how did yall end up hooking up?”.

“I found out Lyndell was cheating on me. It really, really, pissed me off because he was always accusing me of not being faithful. He was so jealous, EXCEPT when it came to Craig”.

“Uh Oh” I grinned.

She nodded, “Yep. So at first, I didn’t even say anything about it. I knew he was cheating, but I ain’t say nothing. Nope, not yet. When we started going on those double dates that turned into a 3some, I’d be passing touches to Craig back and forth. He’d kick me under the table with Lyndell sitting right next to me and I’d rub my leg against his. Lyndell didn’t even know what was going on. But the entire night, I’d be flirting back and forth with Craig”.

This story had now gotten to the good part. This good girl was more devious than I could have imagined. I wanted more, I listened intensely while taking my time eating my sandwich.

“One time we went to the fair. And Lyndell was scared of heights. So he said me and Craig should go on the Ferris Wheel without him. We went on it and when we got to the top, Craig leaned over to me and we started kissing. I was kind of shocked cuz I didn’t think he’d be that bold. But when he kissed me, I kissed him back”.

“Wooooow” I laughed, all up in front of homies face. Damn.

“What did Lyndell say?”

“He had went to go get some food, so he didn’t even see it. But later that night, we ended up stopping by the store and getting some wine coolers.”

“Wine coolers, nigga?” I asked.

Here I was thinking she was talking about some real alcohol.

“Hey now. I wasn’t really drinking like that around this time”.

I laughed, “Continue” and shook my head.

“N-T-Way. Craig ended up dropping Lyndell off at his house first. But when we was riding to drop him off, he kept looking in the rear view mirror at me. Like he was looking hard. And it was turning me on. Cuz I knew Lyndell had no idea what had happened at the fair or what was happening the past few weeks”.

“You are so, evil” I started.

“Let me finish” she pleaded, smirking.

I took the last bite out of my sandwich and started sipping on a soda.

“So Lyndell had been wanting to have sex with me for a long time. I had even promised him that he would be my first when I was ready. Well when I found out he had sex with some cheerleader from his high school, I really wanted to get revenge on him to make me feel better”.

I knew where this was going, but it was still a shocking journey into her past. I was morbidly intrigued on the details of this little tale.

“So when we dropped Lyndell off, I got in the front seat and Craig started driving, right. But we didn’t say anything the entire ride, was just staring out the window. Well after a minute, he put his hand on my leg and I let him. I had on a skirt, and I guess he was trying to see how far I’d let him touch. So he kept moving his hand closer to my…you know. Like at every red light he would move his hand up even more. Finally, he got to my panties and he started rubbing. That was when I finally pushed his hand away”.

“Regrets?” I asked.

“Yeah. I was still a virgin, you know? So it was kind of scary. But he was just smiling and everything. He asked me if I wanted to talk. I was like ‘about what’? and he said about what happened on the ferris wheel. It was him that instigated all of it, so he knew what happened. But whatever, I said ok and we parked in this little parking lot behind a building. It was like only 2 minutes from my house, by foot”.

“Let me guess, yall didn’t go there to talk” I grinned.

“Well we talked…at first at least. He told me he really liked me, thought I was beautiful, and that I was too good for Lyndell”.

I laughed. That was the oldest trick in the book. This dude knew exactly what he was doing.

“We drank some more, then started kissing some more. And his damn hand was right back on my leg” she laughed.

“Well, they are some nice legs” I smirked.

“Aww hush” she laughed, eating her cole slaw.

“So finish the story” I said even toned.

“Don’t you know how it ends?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it”.

“Well. I think you can guess pretty easily what happened. We ended up in the backseat, kissing and stuff. I let him rub my legs, and then he started….fingering me” she said shyly.

It was cute and so annoying how easily sex talk could make her blush.

“And well. Next thing I know, he had pulled my panties down, unzipped his pants, put on a condom, and was on top of me” she sighed.

“What you mean next thing you knew? Them sound like a lot of steps. That shit just don’t happen like that. ” I snapped my fingers.

“Taking the condom out the wrapper and putting it on alone takes 25 seconds” I laughed, trying to sound scientific.

She was blushing and laughing. I wondered if this was the first time she had even told this story to someone aside from maybe Kelly or her close girlfriends. I was matching her laugh with one of my own.

“For real though Jay. It is not a funny story. Or it ain’t pose to be. I really felt bad afterwards. He dropped me off and we didn’t even say bye or anything. I just got out the car and left. I had bled on his car seat too. It was so embarrassing. I think he was mad that I was a virgin or something because I made him stop before he came. It was hurting”.

“Yeah” I said sighing, “That’s how it is with dem virgins. Yall can’t take it”.

“Yeah, ok, whatever. It hurt. Plus his car was small”.

“What did you say, exactly?” I asked.

“I didn’t say anything. Just kind of nudged him until he got up. Then I pulled my panties back up. Once he saw me do that, he pulled up his pants and we got back in the front seat” she recounted.

“Wow, 2 minutes of revenge” I grinned.

She shook her head at my joke as she tried to make the story sound more serious.

“Well anyway. He started calling me all the time but I didn’t even like him. I still called myself loving Lyndell. So I tried to be with him still. Even forgave him after he admitted that he had cheated on me. I felt we were even. But the bastard ended up cheating on me AGAIN with some other cheerleader. Some white girl. I was done with his ass after that”.

“Maybe you could have gotten revenge on him again, with his white friend” I joked.

“Jay i’m being serious. I was really hurt. Couldn’t understand why he was cheating on me so much. But hey, this was around the time we had gotten signed so I ddin’t have time to cry and be depressed. Had to move on. He was my last relationship” she said.

“And what about Craig?”

“It was a one time thing with him. I eventually stopped answering his calls. We pretty much lost all contact”.

“Until now?”

She looked at me and frowned a little, “Um. I guess. I didn’t give him my number when he asked. It ain’t nothing he can do for me. Nothing” she said, as if the thought of her and him was repulsive.

Whatever, she could be disgusted all she wanted, but he was her first. So it did mean something.

“So did you ever tell ole boy that you cheated on him?”

“No. I never told anyone, not even my best friends. I pretty much blocked it out of my memory and went on as if I was still a virgin. I didn’t even count it” she said, shaking her head at her damn self.

I chuckled.

“Yeah I know” she said, knowing what that meant.

“So didn’t you say a while ago that he tried to get back with you?”

She was broken out of her trance when I mentioned this.

“Yes lawd. He’s been asking people all around town if they got our number or address. He eventually got in contact with my cousin Angie and she passed it on to me that he was wanting me to call him. I called, I don’t know why. I was depressed, so I called. And we got into this big catty ass argument. It was really bad, he said some ugly things about me. Whatever, I’m over it. Don’t want to talk bout it” she ended.

I nodded, to signal that I understood and our conversation about her past love life ended with a sudden halt. It happened to fast, so authentically vented that I didn’t even get a chance to appreciate her honesty with me until after it was over. I don’t even think she expected to tell me that much about her. I was glad she did.

She ended un-pausing the DVD and I watched it wide awake now. I kept thinking about her words about Craig and Lyndell. I couldn’t quite pinpoint how it made me feel. Sad maybe, pity even, but it was something else. I think it was the fact that she could cheat on a guy and never reveal it to him. It was something I suspected of most women, but hearing her speak on it so plainly was eye opening. Her innocent little ass, was f*cking her mans friend. Was every woman on earth capable of this, or was this something only a special breed could? What was the character trait that allowed for this to happen?

I sat, and watched, and thought these thoughts. Soon, the movie was over and rain had started pouring. Cold rain swept across the city as the skies became dark and grey. It was still very early in the day, but we figured everyone would be spending the rest of it inside.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

“Another movie?”

“Do I get to pick it this time?” I laughed.

“Ok, but nothing scary. It’s thundering and stuff”.

I scanned their DVD collection and stopped at one that made me laugh; Next Friday.

“This any good?” I asked.

“Next Friday? You ain’t never seen it”

“Nah. It didn’t have Chris Tucker in it so I never bothered”.

She started laughing, “Put it in. It’s funny. Not as good as the first one but Mike Epps is ok”.

We watched the movie. I didn’t laugh at many of the jokes as they were, I could tell it would not have been a funny movie to me if I was watching it by myself. But with her laughing ass on my side, I found myself laughing more than usual. She laughed at most of the jokes and gags, even after hearing them before, and her laugh set of a chain reaction in me, forcing me to laugh. The movie was soon over, and I couldn’t even remember one part that I actually thought was funny. Still, I had laughed myself into submission.

“Another movie” she smiled.

“Nah, I can’t take another two hours” I said, looking at my phone. It wasn’t even 5 yet.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

I saw when she got the bright idea in her head. She wanted to do the hot tub, I could see it all in her grill. When she told me, I teased her about it and she went to change. I changed in her downstairs bathroom and she met me back downstairs where she led me to the backyard. It was still raining hard, but fortunately, her hot tub was under an outside roof so we would be covered up.

There was a cold breeze shooting across our bodies as we stepped outside, which only made the idea of a hot tub more appealing. That and seeing her remove the Tshirt that she had on over her one piece. I was enjoying seeing her enjoy herself around me. It was reminding me of how fun and care free a good date could be. It had been so long since I was to someone elses home, having them entertain me as the guest. I could tell it was a first for her as well.

She smiled and giggled and stalled, even after we had filled the Jacuzzi with steamy water. But eventually, that Tshirt was gone. I thought about making my stares subtle, but I made it a scene as I checked her out in her obviously new bathing suit. I found it cute that she had went shopping for this moment. It explained why she was doing it, rain or shine. The outline of her breast was a site, and those legs were something out of this world. I stared like it was my first time ever looking.

“Wow, amazing” I complimented.

She shook her head, unwilling to accept my compliment and climbed in the tub. She slowly sat down and smiled at me. I followed her. I dropped in the hot, bubbling, pool of water and sat across from Bee. I figured we could eventually move closer to each other. While sitting, I accidentally rubbed my leg against hers. Well, it was an accident, but I played it off as such.

Once we commented about how nice the water felt and how ugly the weather looked, we relaxed for a bit and talked about nothing that stood out. This was her Me time. Not necessarily relaxing in a Hot Tub, but relaxing in one with a friend; a male friend. Soon, her shy smile was gone and she was looking serious for the first time since I had been there. I wondered what was going through her head. She soon let me know.

“You know. It’s really dangerous for me to have you up in my house like this” she said.

“No more dangerous than you kissing another dude on the Ferris Wheel” I retorted.

“No, this is a lot more risky than that was. I mean, what was Lyndell going to do? My daddy though? He would be wanting to fight if he caught us right here”.

I assessed her comment and wondered why she was telling me. I had an idea.

“I get the idea that you enjoy the risk. Sort of like why you like them bad boys. I think it’s your fetish. I think you’re a bad girl, just waiting to be bad” I said, seriously.

“Is that what you want? A bad girl?” she asked, moving her arms in the water.

“I want you” I answered.

This was a nuclear bomb when it came to emotional drops. And I felt it when it hit her. She didn’t know how to react. But over the next half an hour, we’d accidentally touch each others legs with our legs as we talked. And boy did we talk. She was asking me all kinds of questions. I felt like I was in an interview. Being interviewed by this girl to make sure I was qualified for her. But hell, sitting in this interview with her legs rubbing mine in this warm as hut tub; it was definitely the most comfortable interview I had ever been in. This low stress environment was helping to bring her out of her shell as well.

“Jay, I’ve really been thinking about going solo. That is one of the things that has been stressing me out. I’m really tired of the group thing. I want to pursue my own projects” she said.

“Do you feel like you’re not ready? Or you won’t be successful?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Jay. It really depends on the day I guess. Sometimes I feel like yeah, I am ready to be a solo artist. And other days I feel like I can’t handle it. I mean, I have done some solo things before. Even with Amil. But a whole album? And not having Kelly beside me? It’s just stressful and scary”.

“I know how you feel. But I see the buzz about you Bee. It’s not Destiny Child people love. It’s Beyonce and Destiny’s Child. You’re the star, and I say that with the best intentions. You have to let that star shine. And I believe in you, I believe in your inner strength. I know you’ll be great”.

Her legs were touching mine after every sentence. Partly why I kept talking.

“I hear you, Jay. I really just wish I could get over this depression. Some days I can’t even eat because I am so depressed. I just sit in my room and listen to music. Don’t even want to be around anyone. It’s like, ok I sold millions of records and did what I set out to do. Now what? Why am I still not happy? It’s so frustrating”.

Her words were reminding me of someone I once knew. Her words were reminding me of a young Shawn Carter that had just lost Fannie and BIG. A Shawn Carter that was also going through a state of depression. I really didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. Once again, I was opening up to her in a way I never had anticipated. It was risky, it was dangerous. But maybe I liked the risk just as much as she did.

“Bee. Fannie left me right after my first album dropped. Like, dammit, right after my first album dropped. I couldn’t believe it since it was what me and her always worked up for. She saw me through what i thought was my worse. She saw me through rejection, after rejection, after rejection. She saw me broke. She saw me crying and thinking I wasn’t good enough. She saw all of me, and right after I finally got the record to drop and got the money we always wanted. I found out she was fed up with me. Do you know how that felt?” I asked rhetorically.

She looked at me sympathetically. She was all ears.

“Bee, she left me. And although I was dead wrong for what I had done to her. I was broken. Heart broken. And it made me feel low because I had just become a millionaire, so I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be sad. Everyone around me was so happy, giving me props, telling me that I had made it. But without her, I ddin’t feel like I had made it. I felt like I gained the world but lost my soul, to use a scripture”.

“Wow. You really did love her” she replied.

“I did Bee. I really did. And in 97 when I was working on my second album. I had to find all kinds of ways to try and break me out of the depression. I had a bunch of sex. F*cked a lot of different women. I was smoking weed all the time. Drinking, always drunk. And I recorded a lot. But I was just doing music for other people, it wasn’t like I was enjoying it”.

“So what did you do? How did you get out of the depression?” she asked me.

“Well. I had a talk with an old friend. He was in prison for life. But he was satisfied with the life he had lived because of his legacy. I couldn’t repeat what he said that really struck me. But I knew after we talked that I had an entire legacy to look forward to. At first I thought, it was just regarding my career. So I spent a lot of time on that. Wanting to be the best, the king of New York. All that. But I realized, it was also in terms of reconciling. I talked to my dad, even throw some angry words at him to help get it off my chest. But in my heart, I forgave him. And not only that, but I got closure from Fannie regarding what happened. I know in my heart that I still have my other half out there. And she will be the one to validate all the pain I went through when it came to love. My legacy kept me going”.

I laid a mouthful on Bee, but she took it in. We didn’t speak for a few moments as we let my confession have a moment of silence. It meant a lot for me to admit this phase of my life to her. I was hoping she appreciated my transparency. When she moved closer to me and reached her arms around mine to hold my hand, I felt like she did. It made me smile. It made me think that maybe, she would be that one to validate it all. I eventually purged my head of those thoughts. Too early to think them.

We held hands for a minute and just relaxed as the storm outside continued. As that storm gave a backdrop to our date, I felt my own emotions in a whirlwind. I hadn’t felt this way in a long, long, LONG time. My senses were elevated. I felt the heat of her hands transcend the heat of the tub. And as our warm bodies connected, I felt the cool wind move around us. It was as if Beyonce and I were the eye of a fierce hurricane. It was a moving experience and all we were doing was holding hands.

“Do you have any kids Jay?” she asked out of nowhere.

“No. None I am aware of” I said.

She looked at me.

I laughed, “I seriously doubt I have any kids. But hey, I have had sex so I can’t be 100% sure. More like 99.999% sure”.

She stared and then eventually smiled a bit. Maybe that answer had satisfied her curiosity.

“You ever been pregnant?” I asked, to piggy back her.

She giggled, “No. I haven’t. I don’t think I could have an abortion. Goes against my religion”.

“You ever had sex without a condom?” I asked, taking the opportunity to see how far she’d go with her honesty.

“No. I’ve always used protection. I’m kind of paranoid of being pregnant”.

I laughed, “Me too”.

“Do you want kids?” she asked.

“I do. I mean I’m 31 now so I’m beginning to think about it more. I want them before I turn 40″ I laughed.

“I think I want kids too. Just no time soon. I’m already stressed out, can’t have that added stress” she laughed wearily.

I was still very curious about her sex life. And it seemed as if she was being really open about it, so I continued to ask. Hell, maybe this would be the only time I could ask and get a straight answer. She did have a habit of letting me in one day and closing me out the next.

“How, like experienced are you when it comes to sex?” I asked. I could tell it wasn’t a very good question.

“What you mean?” she asked.

“Like…” I thought about how to phrase it, “Are you a backdoor virgin?”

She laughed hard, “What do you mean by THAT“.

I wasn’t normally embarrassed about sex questions, but I even begin to feel a little foolish by my phrasing of these questions. I decided to suck it up and ask.

“You done anal before?” I grinned.

“Eww No. Never there” she laughed, waving her arms no.

“Never?” I followed up.

“Nope. I mean, it’s never happened. If you are asking would I ever, then I don’t know man. That’s kind of nasty. I don’t know about that one. I’d have to have a ring on it” she laughed, showing me her wedding ring-less hand.

I decided to continue.

“You give head?” I asked.

She was laughing again, “Nope”.

“No?” I asked, obviously disappointed in such an answer, “Why don’t cha?”

“Well it’s not as if I wouldn’t do it. I’m just saying. I haven’t never done it before. The next penis in MY mouth would be the first and likely the last” she giggled.

I laughed and shook my head. She was definitely 20 years old.

“You…give head?” she asked shyly.

“I do” I grinned, “And I love it. When it’s the right girl though. Can’t have no girl smelling like fish” I laughed.

“Yuck” she laughed back.

“It’s natural Bee” I said.

She frowned quick and looked at me as if I was crazy, “A fish smell?”

I laughed, realizing we were on two different pages. “No, I mean giving head”.

We had a good laugh off of that one. The rain kept coming down with relentless aggression, but we were calm and relaxed and holding hands.

“Jay, you lyrics are so nasty sometimes. Me and Kelly were listening to that Give it To me song and Oh my God. I was like wooow. You talk about the girl have to ride nice dick and have good head for you to marry her” she said.

I smirked at her quoting my lyrics.

“Don’t laugh” she protested, laughing herself.

“Can you do it, ride nice dick?” I asked.

“That’s for me to know, nasty” she laughed.

I let go of her hand playfully and pretended to pout at her not answering,

“Oh so it’s like that? Now you don’t wanna hold my hands?” she smiled.

“Yep. Acting like you can’t tell me if you know how to ride or not”.

She wrestled for my hand in the water for a bit but lost. I wasn’t holding her hand until she answered. After some more laughs and her playfully pushing me a few times, she realized she would have to give in.

“Honestly Jay. I don’t know if I can. The guy has always been on top” she said.

I was floored.

“Bee, you have never been on top before?” I asked.

She shook her head no, very shyly as if it was embarrassing to say no.

“You ain’t never did doggystyle either?” I asked.

“Nah. I always made the guy get on top. I wasn’t comfortable trying all the fancy stuff”.

This was the last straw. This girl was still a virgin in my eyes. Sure, she had been penetrated. But she called doggystyle and riding on top, fancy stuff? She had never gave head? Hell, had she ever received head?

“You ever been ate out? Be honest” I asked.

I think she was starting to get annoyed at admitting to her inexperience, but she answered anyway.

“No Jay. None of that. Sorry if you think i’m a lame or something”.

“Never that Bee. I’m just so surprised at how much you have missed out on. It just amazes me it’s never happened, that’s all. We are gonna have to change that”.

“We?” she expressed suddenly.

“I meant it as a figure of speech” I grinned.

“I bet” she laughed.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was strong. A strong silence as we held hands. Maybe for the first time since being in the hot tub, I was horny. I saw her nipples suffocating in her bathing suit, and I figured she was feeling the same thing.

“How come in your songs, it’s always Big Pimping or something else? It’s never the sweet Jay that I am enjoying right now” she said.

“Guy’s cant be taken serious in hip hop with those lovey dovey songs. But I still try to give the listener a song or two. I mean, I made Song Cry didn’t I?”

“Nigga that is one song out of like 100. My daddy ain’t heard Song Cry, just Hey Papi and Big Pimping”.

I laughed, “So maybe that will have to change?”

“If we were together, you would have to show your sweet side when you made your love songs. I wouldn’t want to see no more ass shaking in them videos. Nope” she laughed.

“Is that right?” I grinned.

“Yep”.

“Ok, Ok. But you would have to ride nice dick and have head priceless” I added on.

We laughed hard again.

“We could make songs together” she suggested with a grin.

“That would actually be hot” I said, realizing the genius in such a thing.

“You think?”

“Yeah. The king of hip hop with the queen of pop”.

She laughed, “Jay, I ain’t no queen of Pop”.

“Maybe not now. But when you drop that solo album you will be. I’m telling you”.

“You think with just one album, I’d become the queen? I guess you have never heard of Britney Spears or Madonna” she rolled her eyes.

“Bee, your potential is past all of them. They don’t have it like you do. The voice, the dancing, the beauty. They just don’t have it all. Plus, hip hop is hot right now. You put a hip hop vibe to your music, shit I can be a feature on your first album. We put that shit out there and the streets and the radio would eat it up. Trust”.

“You make it sound so inevitable” she said.

“That’s because it is”.

I squeezed her hand tighter and playfully nudged her with my shoulder. Her bare shoulder felt great against mine.

“Jay, you know one of the members of my team really doesn’t want me to talk to you” she said.

I knew exactly who she was talking about. Should I play dumb or act like I know? I decided to play dumb.

“Who?”

“One of my personal publicist. Girl named Tracy. She is usually always saying a little dating with a rapper could be good publicity and buzz for me. But when I mentioned you her whole opinion changed. Kept saying I didn’t need to be seen with someone like you. She seemed pretty passionate about it”.

I laughed uncomfortably and adjusted myself in the tub, “Oh wow? Well maybe you should listen to her” I suggested.

“Nah. I really have decided that I don’t want to let other people run my life. They don’t have to live it, I do. And my daddy, the media, Tracy. They don’t know you like I do”.

I felt even more uncomfortable. I was sure Tracy, in just the few months she worked for us, felt as if she knew me more than Beyonce did. Even as the subject shifted I felt something in my stomach. But after a minute of fighting with it, I realized it wasn’t Tracy who had my stomach in a few knots. It was that damn Po Boy. Still, I squeezed my ass together and pushed that fart deep back into my belly. The bubbles had stopped in the tub, I wasn’t going to let one magically pop up with me sitting right next to her.

A few minutes later, Beyonce burped as we talked. After we giggled about it, I could tell she was feeling the same thing I was. Those sandwiches had invaded and left their mark. We started squirming and looking around and sitting uptight. But neither one of us would mention, that hey, I have to fart, so don’t mind me. I guess we figured that we could get rid of the feeling by just wishing it away. But after playing around with it for so long, I felt it coming back, but this time with reinforcements. It wasn’t just one little fart anymore, it was an entire bowel movement.

I looked over at her and saw that she was sweating just like I was. It wasn’t the water, this was despair perspiration. I was afraid of breaking the mood, but nothing would have been worst than taking a shit in her hot tub, so I let go of her hand, ready to tell her I had to use the bathroom. But unexpectedly, she beat me to the punch. It seems her ass was thinking the same thing I was.

“Hey. Um, I’m about to go to the bathroom really quick. I got to pee. If you want, you can use the downstairs bathroom too”.

Without another word, we both hopped out , grabbed a towel and was almost running to that damn toilet. I didn’t have far to run as the bathroom was right next to the backdoor. But she ran upstairs to her bedroom bathroom. I usually always checked the cleanliness of a toilet before I sat down, but it smelled clean in the bathroom and looked clean, so in the rush, I just sat my ass down.

My shorts were to my knees but I could tell this shot would involve some pushing. I kicked the shorts off and sat butt naked in this girls bathroom, letting it all come the hell out. I turned on the sink from the toilet so she couldn’t hear the farts coming out just in case she was outside listening, and I lit one of the candles I saw sitting on the counter. A few drops of shit later, I was exhaling, sweating, and laughing at myself.

I wondered what she would say when I came out of the bathroom. I guess this is what happened when you spent an entire day together. Someone along the way was bound to have to shit. I grinned and saw some baby wipes next to the toilet tissue. I went for the wipes, which is what I normally used in my crib, and cleaned myself up. After 15 minutes of blowing her bathroom up, I walked out feeling embarrassed .

Surprisingly, she was nowhere to be found when I came out. I waited in the crib for a minute, but decided to just wait for her in the hut tub. After minutes of waiting, she finally emerged from the house. By the goofy, shy, I know you have been wondering where I have been look on her face, I knew what had happened. She was in there being foul. In there skunking up her place. She slowly walked by, looking all serious, and then sat back down, slightly away from me. I just knew it, I knew she had been taking a a deuce just like I had been. And although I tried to contain it, seeing her try to deny it with her body language was hilarious. I caught the giggles and just started laughing. She started laughing too. We knew what was up.

“I saw you looking all crazy in the tub. I knew you had to use the bathroom, I was just waiting for you to say it” she laughed.

“I was just about to tell you” I laughed with her.

“Well, boy. You were taking way too long. I was like forget this, I’m going. I ain’t gon poop on myself waiting for your ass”.

“Damn, do them Po Boys do that all the time?” I asked.

“Yeah. They are damn good, but you pay for it that night in the bathroom”.

“You know, I think we do have one thing in common” I said.

“What?”

“We both use wet wipes”.

She laughed, “Yeah, need them baby wipes to get all up in there real good”.

“Word”.

“Man. You have seen me pissy drunk. Naked and all that. I couldn’t let you see me fart. That would have been the end of it, you would have had to marry me then”.

We laughed some more, until we were all laughed out. We moved back closer to each other and held hands. Soon, I knew it would be time to get out of the tub before our skin got too wrinkly.

“You want a bottle of wine?” she asked me.

I frowned, “I don’t think I want you to drink” I said.

“Jay. I won’t drink like last time. Just a few glasses”.

“Yeah but you promised me you wouldn’t drink”.

“No, I promised you I wouldn’t drink before you came. You said you wanted to see me without being tipsy, so it could be natural. And you got that”.”And I like the natural, awkward, sometimes shy you. And now that I think about it, are you even old enoughto drink?” I laughed.That shut her up, she just shook her head.”Jay, do you see me as some naive little girl?”"Nah. I see a woman in you, Bee. A young woman, but a woman none the less. I love your business mind and that you are independent. It’s new to me. So many of the other girls I knew would be happy just with a shopping spree at the mall and some sex. With you, it’s different. Satisfying you would take a lot more substance. You don’t think I’m too old for you?”.”Nah, I always liked older guys. I love how mature you are but you can also be hip and down to earth. I love it about you”.

We were clicking, very hard. The compliments were flowing, and this was without any alcohol. I wondered how long it would last.

“Can I admit something to you?” she asked.

“Sure” I said uneasily.

“I’m terrified of you” she smiled softly.

Wasn’t quite what i expected to hear. In fact, that comment begged for an explanation. And I waited for her to explain herself.

“Like Kelly and Angie tried so hard to get me to talk to you. But you scared me so much. Not in a bad way, but just because I’ve never been around someone with your presence. It’s intoxicating, like a drug almost. I don’t know how I’d act being around you. And look what happens? I have you in my hot tub”.

She seemed to be fighting with herself on how to word what she was feeling. But I could sense she wasn’t done yet, so I waited.

“I guess what I am saying is I really do like you Jay. And it makes me feel vulnerable to admit that to you. I don’t want to be hurt, you know?”

I took in her words and nodded my head. I grabbed her hand and played with her small fingers with mine. She smiled.

“Can I admit something to you?” I asked.

She turned to me and stared hard, no smile, just anticipation. I felt I had to tell her the truth.

“It is taking every bit of energy that I have right now, not to kiss you”.

She bushed and cheesed hard when I said this. “O-M-G” she grinned, trying to hide those teeth.

I looked at her. That beautifully soft face with those inviting lips. I wanted them. It was taking a lot out of me to deny myself of them.

“Well let me brush my teeth first. I don’t want my breath smelling li-”

I leaned in to her and without another word, met her lips with my own, pushing my head gently towards hers. Her lips responded by locking on to mine, softly nibbling as we shared out first kiss with each other. I backed off to give her a chance to catch her breath and realize the moment that had just occurred. Sometimes a kiss happened so fast, that you missed it even happening. I was sure this had happened with her.

“Can I have another?” she asked softly, still eying me.

I leaned in, closed my eyes and we kissed again, this time harder and longer. I didn’t know if this was a long ass second kiss, or if I was on my 35th kiss from her, but she eventually found her self on top of me as we kissed. I had my hands on her ass as she sat on my lap facing me. Our tongues were putting it work by this time, as her pelvis sat on top of my now erect dick. I didn’t know if this was going to lead to sex, but it didn’t bother me either way.

Kissing had always been a way to get sex for me, but as Beyonce and I tongued each other, I didn’t feel that rush to get on to the next stage. I just enjoyed it. We kissed like new lovers should, eyes closed, turning our heads back and forth while touching and holding body parts that were usually labeled private.

Now as the rain fell and our body temperatures rose, this could have been the perfect set up to a great sex scene the hot tub. But fate wasn’t going to allow it to be that easy. Fate always had to complicate these things. Of course, on cue, our exchange of saliva was interrupted by her cell phone.

“It’s my daddy” she said all knowing and worried as she hoped out of the hot tub and jogged to her phone. I figured she had a special ringer on it. But I was wrong.

“Kelly?” she said into the receiver.

I watched from the hot tub, feeling my erection go down, as I saw Beyonce’s facial expression change. I knew it was my time to go. She listened to Kelly for a few more seconds, told her thank you and was hanging up. I was already out of the hot tub and drying off. I could sense it.

“My parents are on their way home. Flight got delayed because of the weather. Say they will be here in an hour” she said.

“I understand. I had a good time though” I said trying to show that I wasn’t upset.

She looked at me closely as I avoided eye contact and finished drying off. Didn’t want to leave no trails that I had been in their home.

“No” she said out of nowhere, in a harsh, bitter, short, tone.

The hell was she saying no to? I gave her that look.

“I don’t want you to leave” she said.

“Your people are coming though. I don’t want them tripping or anythin-”

“No Jay. Forget that. I don’t want our date to end” she said.

“Bee, I hear what you are saying” I begin as I looked at her eying me hard.

“But, what the hell are you saying?” I asked, realizing I wasn’t understanding.

“Get your stuff. I’m going with you”.

She then made a full sprint in the house and up to her bedroom. I waited for a few seconds, replaying her words in my head. I got dressed and had my things in my back in less than five minutes. I waited in the front room hoping her parent’s wouldn’t come while I was there waiting. How weird would that be? What would I say to them? I was hoping Beyonce would hurry up. After a few more minutes of waiting she was rushing downstairs with a new change of clothes and an overnight bag. She didn’t even say a word to me as she picked up her keys from the table and headed for the door. I followed.

She grabbed an umbrella and went to one of the cars parked in the driveway. I followed, still not exactly understanding what was going on. When we was in the car and she was cranked up, I finally had to ask.

“Bee, what the hell are we doing?”

“We are finishing our date. I’m not letting my parents ruin my day” she said, seemingly out of spite.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Your hotel” she answered quickly.

I saw the look of determination in her eyes and I saw how serious about this she was. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It surprised me at first, but I was learning not to put anything past this woman. I kept quiet as she drove us. The only thing making a noise were the windshield wipers, cleaning away the pouring rain.

When we made it to the hotel, I reminded her that we were in public.

“You go up to my room first. And I will meet you in like 10 minutes, ok?” I said.

I gave her the room number and she followed my directions. I could have gotten valet to take care of the parking but I didn’t want anyone to see me with her. So I found a parking spot and after 10 minutes made my way towards the hotel with the rain pouring on me. So much for not bringing any attention to myself, because when I arrived through the sliding doors, the front clerks were all over me. I waved, letting them know I was fine and quickly paced my way towards the elevators.

Nothing could have prepared me for what i saw next. It was Stoute, Steve Stoute. The manager of Nas! He saw me before I even saw him and before I could sneak into the Elevator he was walking from the other end of the Hotel towards me. When he reached me, the door opened and we both stepped in.

“What’s good Jay?” he asked, looking me over.

Stoute and I went way back. He was a good friend of the company but since I was going at Nas in a battle, he and I hadn’t spoken as much.

“Getting my ass out of this rain” I laughed as I pressed 6 and he pressed 7 on the elevator.

“You know, you just missed Beyonce. Beyonce Knowes. I just got off the elevator with her, she was going to floor-” he stopped abruptly and looked at the floor I was going to.

Coincidence happened all the time, but Stoute was a smart ass nigga. I knew that he knew this shit was no coincidence. Once he had analyzed the situation, he laughed to himself and then gave me one of those knowing smiles. Fortunately, we were to my floor and I could hurry my ass out of there before answering or denying any questions.

“Do your thing” he laughed as I gave him a pound and exited.

Damn, a big time manager in the industry now had the privy inside info. I knew that was the last thing me or Beyonce wanted. But those dreads would have to wait, as I walked towards my door. I was going to continue to enjoy my date with Beyonce and I wasn’t going to let anyone stop me. I could worry about that later.

When I got to my door, she let me in and she had a gargantuan smile on her face. This was fun to her, clearly.

“You looking like Christmas came early” I laughed.

She held her smile in check, “It has. Feels like I just escaped from a prison I have been in for a long time”.

I closed the door all the way and locked it. She walked closer to me and I put my arm around her waist. We kissed hard and violently, forgetting all of the sensuality and gentleness of our first kiss. It was obvious to me, her, and the four walls that were watching us, that we were about to engage in such a time together that we would never forget.

We did what came naturally in a moment where a young, sex, deprived girl secretly runs away from home with a guy. We laughed and kissed, finding comfort and humor in the moment, and a strange sense of eroticism. Sure, sex was in the air, but much more than that, we both understood the significance of the moment. It was more than just two people in a hotel room engaging in foreplay. It was Beyonce and Jay-Z engaging in it. An oddball couple if there ever was one.

As we kissed, I found myself drifting off. Not too far from the warmth of this girls lips, but far enough from the situation to evaluate. I had never truly been in a serious relationship with anyone famous before, and maybe for the first time, I was having second thoughts about it. Of course they weren’t going to stop me from tonguing her back but it did have my mind racing. What if people found out? What about this girls past did I know for certain? Ok, she lost her virginity at 16. She hasn’t been with anyone seriously since her first. But wait, did that mean she had been with others casually? If so, who? Someone I knew?

We stepped into the room and the chilly AC began giving my wet body chills. Or maybe I was getting the chills from her lips, I couldn’t say for sure. She noticed me shaking and we broke our kiss. As I expected, she was grinning. I grinned back. There was something about our chemistry that brought out the biggest smile in me. I liked that we could be megastars, doing something that every blogger in the world would want to know about, yet we could giggle our way through it. As groundbreaking as our little hookup was becoming, we tried not to take it too serious as it happened.

“Maybe you should change into some dry clothes” she smiled at me.

“So you already trying to get me naked?” I asked.

She scrunched up her face sarcastically, as if the question was beneath her.

“Do I look like that type of girl?”

“You brought me here didn’t you? You are surprising me more and more each day Miss Beyonce”.

She came in closer to me, “Miss Knowles if your nasty”.

I was sure it was suppose to sound naughty, I was damn sure of it. But I knew she didn’t believe in her sexuality fully for her to commit to such a statement. She said it half halfheartedly, still grinning, in her Texas accent and we were both laughing by the time she got it out.

“That was almost sexy” I jabbed.

“Cut. Do over. Take two” she responded.

“Ain’t no do overs in this. Gotta get it right the first time”.

She poked her lip out and pouted, “So does this mean I ruined the mood?”

“Yeah, kind of” I joked.

I stepped closer to her where we were once again face to face and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, right before catching her on the lips again. She kissed me back and breathed in while doing it. My hands were around her lower back and my fingers were itching to explore. But she pulled back.

“Seriously though. You are all wet, could you go change?”

“Are you wet?” I asked mischievously.

“Nah, I had the umbre….”

And then it sank in what I was really asking. I was laughing before she even opened her mouth to respond. She pushed me in the arm and shook her head, trying her best to contain her smile.

“Go change. Now” she demanded.

I got a change of clothes and grinned my ass into the bathroom. I closed the door, and decided to take a quick shower just to get fresh. I wanted to be clean as possible if we were going to get down, like I presumed we were. I would usually lock the door anytime I was in the bathroom but I decided to leave it unlocked, just in case she was really trying to be naughty.

Sex in the shower for our first time would have been pretty dope but I wasn’t going to push it. She’d have to make that first move and judging by her reluctance to indulge in my kinky humor, i doubted she had the fortitude to. On the flip, she had insisted for me to come to her home and then to my hotel. She had a lot more courage than I originally thought. I couldn’t let my preconceptions underestimate her.

I put my favorite male body wash on and cleaned myself good, from my toes to my taint to my ears. I also brushed my teeth and shaved a bit after stepping out of the shower. I made myself ready as if I were going on a date. There would be no reason on my part why she wouldn’t be feeling us, I made sure of it. Females appreciated hygiene, and I knew how the smell of a clean man could be the difference between a kiss on the cheek and a kiss on the dick. I was fishing for the ladder.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a crisp White Tee and black jeans, white shoes worn right out of the box. I walked back in my room confidently while she was eating Doritos on the room sofa. She was watching MTV. The hell did she get Doritos from? Has she gone through my belongings? That was not cool at all, but as I approached her and saw that innocent ass grin on her face, I controlled myself any lingering anger.

“I hope you don’t mind. I was hungry and you don’t have anything in your room. I also ordered some room service” she said.

“What did you order?” I asked.

“Fillet Mignon. Baked Potato. A french dip and an apple pie. I hope that’s ok”.

She was a slick one but I let it slide because it was so damn cute. We talked for a bit, I asked why she didn’t order me anything and when the room service came (with my order of mashed potatoes and chicken breast added) we ate our dinner. As she displayed earlier in the day, she could eat. She went through that steak wrapped in bacon like nobodies business. And after that was devoured, the potato and french dip met a similar fate.

I watched in astonishment as she finished off her meal with a diet soda. A diet freaking soda after eating pie. It tickled me to death because she was even stingy with the pie, only cutting me a small piece when I asked for some. If there was one thing about Beyonce that I learned, it was that she was right about being able to eat. I figured it was the Southern woman in her.

After we were done eating, we realized we didn’t have anything planned, and therefore nothing to look forward to. Well, nothing other than f*cking on the King Sized bed across the room. Neither of us spoke that thought, but I was sure it was in her head just as it was in mine. Still, we tip toed around it by chatting. Since the sexual tension was so thick, the giggles had worn off and we were attempting to engage in serious, thought provoking conversation. We talked about September 11, and a possible War in Iraq.

“I think we got to get them boys. Security is really crazy right now and it’s going to be that way until we take out Bin Laden, Hussein, the Taliban, all them cats” I said.

“Yeah I feel that. But I just feel a certain way about going to war. It’s scary, you know? I just don’t trust Bush and them” she responded.

“Yeah. That Patriot Act shit has me feeling a certain way. That’s a Euphemism if I ever heard one. It’s f*cked up that the land of liberty calls a law that takes away our liberties Patriotism”.

She smiled, “Jay, how did you get so…smart?”

“You think I’m smart, huh?”

“You are worth hundreds of millions. I’d say that makes you smart”.

“So is it my money that makes me smart? The richer you are, the smarter?”

“Nooo, not exactly” she begin, “But for you to not have a diploma and be so read up and informed. I think that’s really rare for a lot of black men. I think it’s incredible”.

I frowned, “So are you on that black men ain’t sh*t bandwagon too?”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of sisters nowadays are always saying how black men ain’t this and black men ain’t that. I’m saying, are you in agreement with those?”

“No, not at all. My daddy is a great black man and I recognize that there are black men out there doing good. But I also know there are those out there that are dead beat that don’t take care of their kids and are lazy and won’t do nothing other than go to jail and make babies. I read somewhere that it’s more black men in jail than in college”.

“Bee, do you realize how bias those studies are though?”

I felt my annoyance rising, as I got on the defensive. I always hated hearing that arguments that chided black men. It was easy for people that were born and raised in the suburbs to turn their nose and criticize, but as someone who grew up in the projects with these black men, I realized the problems were deeper than that. Hell, you could meet the parents of these people and see why they were the way they were.

“I’m not trying to debate against you or anything Jay, I’m just saying” she said softly.

“I hear you. But with all the racial profiling going on and lack of opportunities and good schools for black men. I don’t put any stock into that shit. When they can answer for me why crack cocaine carried a longer sentence in prison than regular cocaine then I’ll take their little studies seriously. These people have been targeting black men for a long time. The lawmakers and policemen. The overcrowding of blacks in prison are results on a war on black men. “

I wasn’t trying to go off on a tangent, but I did and I could tell it was an argument Beyonce wasn’t wanting to have. How could I blame her? This was suppose to be a light hearted date and I was pushing for a debate. Her body language suggested that she was falling back and wasn’t going to say anything to contest my last statement. She just nodded her head in agreement as I spoke.

“Well, I am sorry if I offended you or anything” she eventually said when i was done.

“You didn’t offend me Bee. I didn’t mean for it to come off like you did”.

For some reason, in that moment of being uncomfortable, I thought about Fannie. She and I had debated many times and never once did we apologize for our passion about the subjects. It felt foreign to apologize about such a thing. Immediately, I attempted to shift the focus of our conversation to something more accessible for both of us at the moment. Theory on the black man wasn’t such a good topic.

“You think your people are gonna be mad that you are gone?” I asked.

“They have already called me a bunch of times. I’ll call them later and tell them I am ok. But I’m grown, I don’t have to check in with them” she said, as if she was trying to convince me of this.

“Being grown don’t mean you can’t check in with them” I said.

“But it means I don’t have to on their time. I’ll call them before it gets late. It’s still early” she said looking at the clock on the cable box. It was not even 10PM yet.

“True that. Just don’t think that sneaking out of home makes you some diva” I laughed.

“I’m not trying to be a diva, Jay. This is just something I needed to do for myself. Go for what i want for once” she said seriously.

“And what is it do you want?”

She pondered the question and eyed me hard, “To be happy”.

“Does being here make you happy?” I asked.

“Being here with you does” she responded, eyes still glued to mine.

My heart melted just a tad bit when she told me this. It was a sweet thing to say, and for what it was worth, I felt the same. I felt a genuine happiness chilling with her, regardless of some of the small things that annoyed me. It had been a while since I really enjoyed the company of a woman, when sex wasn’t involved.

“Can I admit something to you?” I asked.

“You can” she stated, softly.

“I trust you”.

She raised her eyebrow at this. I guess it wasn’t the confession she was expecting.

“What do you mean?”

“Bee, I don’t trust a lot of women. Hell, I don’t trust a lot of people. I keep myself guarded. But…I trust you. I trust your intentions, I should say. It takes a lot for me to admit that”.

“I trust you too” she responded, “But”.

Oh boy, there was a but. What was the but.

“I’m not sure if I trust myself yet. After the whole drunken night. It’s hard to trust myself. I don’t want to make an unwise decision regarding you and us”.

“Unwise how?”

“Moving too fast or not fast enough or anything that will ruin the friendship we have now. I consider you a friend, Jay. And I don’t want to mess that up by leading you on or being confused about what I want”.

“Do you know what you want?” I asked.

“I know what I want but I’m not sure if it’s what I need in my life right now”.

“Want’s vs needs, huh? It’s always a difficult decision” I said, empathizing.

“Does this upset you? My indecision” she asked.

“I have to admit. Your hot and cold attitude towards me bothered me at first. One day you seem into me and the next it’s like you don’t even want to talk. But I can see it for what it’s worth now. And I can respect that”.

She smiled, “You are so…amazing Shawn. I hate it”.

“Hate?” I grinned.

“Yes. It would be so much harder to deny myself of you if you were an asshole. But, you are really nothing like I imagined you to be. You are sweet and caring and like a perfect gentleman. It’s crazy”.

“I haven’t always been a gentleman” I said.

“I know. I’ve heard it in your music” she laughed.

“I mean beyond the music”.

“I know, I know Jay. I’m just joking. But I am happy that I got to meet the nice guy side of you”.

“What would happen if the other side of me came out?” I questioned.

“Like you once told me. I like getting to know the full you. Not just the good or the bad. But all of you, your flaws and all”.

I liked the fact that she had remembered something I had said to her and used it on me. It meant she was attentive and observant and resourceful. That type of shit was a mood setter. I moved closer to her and we kissed and that was when I also realized that her breath was smelling like onion dip.

“So you just gonna give me the onion breath” I laughed.

She was embarrassed and covering her mouth but it was too late. She was so not use to protocol of a date, but I wasn’t mad. I told her she could use one of my extra tooth brushes and get her mouth right. It seems she wanted to clean more than that.

“You mind if I shower?”

“Not at all. Do you plan on staying here the night?”

“Well yeah. That is why I brought extra clothes. I mean, if it’s ok with you”.

As if she didn’t know a dude would be more than thrilled with her staying over. I sarcastically told her I did mind, she rolled her eyes, and was in the bathroom showering moments later. I cleaned up the sofa area while I awaited her return and took off my shoes. I turned off a few unneeded lights and went over to the one bed in the room, flopping down and turning to CNN. It was more coverage of September 11, which was all that seemed to be on nowadays.

I watched a segment half asleep, wondering when she would hurry her ass up. But that one segment turned into two which turned into me switching to ESPN. The steam from the shower was now creeping under the door and heading into the room. The hell was taking her so long? I had to remind myself that she was a woman and women took longer to do everything. From getting ready in the morning to having their orgasms. It was in a womans nature to take a long time to do something I laughed to myself.

I tried to keep myself entertained but the shit was seriously starting to become tedious. Did it really take an hour to shower? Did her ass drown in the tub or something? I was sure she would be a prune when she stepped out.

“Bee, are you alive!?” I yelled.

“Shut up!” she yelled back, giggling.

Eventually, I gave up and closed my eyes. She was about to send my ass to sleep while I waited for her. Some 10 minutes later, she emerged in a bathrobe. She had this grin on her face that suggested she was proud of taking an hour long shower. Or maybe this grin suggested something else?

“The hell you were doing in there? Masturbating?” I asked.

Her eyes lit the hell up when I asked this.

“No” she responded.

“You lying” I shot.

She laughed, “No. I just take long baths and I had to brush my teeth”.

“For an hour though?”

“I like to smell good” she laughed.

“I bet” I said suspiciously.

She was still giggling when she went to one of her bags and pulled out a bottle of lotion.

“You need a hand with that?” I grinned, pressing my luck.

“I need two actually. I got all of these knots in my neck. I’m getting a massage tomorrow” she complained.

“Why wait till tomorrow?” I asked.

She stopped in the midst of twisting off the top and looked over at me.

“Why wait for a parlor to massage you when I can do that right now?”

She gave me the stank face and put her hand on her hip, “I ain’t looking for no groping. I need a professional massage”.

“Who said anything about groping? I’m serious. I want to give you a no nonsense massage. No bullshit”.

“No hanky panky?” she asked, hand still on her hip.

“I promise. We can even pinky swear” I said, holding up my pinky.

She assessed, saw my serious face, and eventually accepted my offer. Problem was, she wasn’t taking it serious. Taking it as a joke as she sat on the sofa and motioned for me to start. Nah, I wasn’t having it.

“Nah Bee. If we are going to do it then we gotta do it right”.

“And what is doing it right?” she asked, sort of mocking my tone.

“Since when do they do massages with you sitting up? You have to come lay on the bed, on your stomach”.

She looked at me , at the bed, and then at me.

“You are really serious about this aren’t you?” she asked.

“Get your ass on the bed so we can get this massage started” I smiled.

“Yes sir” she responded, matching my smile.

She stood up and begin walking towards the bed before stopping and turning back towards me.

“Turn around” she demanded.

“Why?”

“Well, if you want to do this massage the way I have it done on me then I gotta take off this robe. I can’t have you looking though, so turn around”.

I did as I was told and in only a few moments, she was on the bed, towel on the lower half of her body. When I walked over, I noticed her top was off and laying on the side of the bed. I didn’t see her panties, so I assumed they were still on. Still, I could feel the erection against my leg. So much for no hanky panky, I was already ready to get it on. But I wanted to remain strong and professional and give her this massage.

She smiled at me as she laid stomach first on the bed topless. Even though I had technically seen her naked before, I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. It was all a blur, especially what her breast looked like. I couldn’t remember if her nipples were large or small, and here she was in front of me topless and I still couldn’t see them. It was a torturous moment.

The moment got even more so as I stepped on her shorts and panties. Turns out she was completely nude on the bed, aside from the towel covering her. I guess she really was wanting to get the full massage treatment. Or maybe she was just being subtle in her attempt to get me to f*ck her? Either way, I was excited to get started.

“I don’t have any massage oil or anything” I said.

“Use my body lotion. I put it on every night before I go to sleep.”

She handed me the lotion and I checked the name.

La Mer body lotion

“Too good for coca butter?” I asked.

“Oh shut up. That stuff makes me feel so soft. I love it”.

It was some fancy smancy bottle, with a pump handle.

“How much you pay for this?”

She looked at me, “I don’t know. Like 200″ she said casually.

“200 dollars for some lotion? This little ass bottle?”

“You are being very unprofessional Mr. Carter. I only expect the highest class of skin treatment and care” she beamed.

I relaxed my mouth muscles, stiffing a smile, and nodded my head. No joking, no games. I was going to be professional about this. I squirted the surprisingly warm, light body lotion in my left palm and rubbed my hands together to even it out. I walked closer to the bed behind her while she faced the direction of the TV. The only way she could see my face was by turning her head, which she was doing. I signaled for her to turn face forward so I could do the job.

“Turn straight Bee. We are gonna do this right” I said sternly.

She giggled to herself and turned straight, cradling her breast in her arms. I looked down at her bare back and felt a few goosebumps sprout up around my body. Damn, this was exciting. Everything about this chick was. I didn’t waste another moment, placing my hands on her small shoulders and steadily sliding them down the top half of her back. She jumped initially at my touch but I used my strong arms to keep her positioned on the bed.

“You ticklish?” I asked.

“A lil bit. But I’m good” she responded.

I was using my thumbs to press down on her shoulders and lower half of her neck and she was right, she was tensed.

“Yeah I can feel the knots Bee”.

“I told you. The stress gets to me sometimes” she responded.

“Well don’t stress about anything right now. Clear your mind, relax. Imma take care of you” I said.

I finished rubbing the lotion on to her shoulders and then turned my attention towards creating an atmosphere conducive for relaxation. That meant no distractions or loud lighting. That meant the TV and the lights had to go.

“Hold on” I muttered, making my way over to the big screen. I hit the power and then walked over to the wall with the light switches, rolling them to dim. The room immediately turned more relax friendly, but there was something I still wanted to add; music.

I had recently purchased an iPod and had a few hundred songs on there. It was one of those new mp3 players by Apple that could hold a few GBs of music. My sister had convinced me to buy one and get rid of my CD player.

I put some beats that my producers had given me on there as well as tracks from the new Nas album that had leaked. But I also had a playlist for baby making music. I was always an appreciator of music, and I had a sweet spot for r&b. The instrumentals would have likely been more appropriate for a professional massage. But who were we kidding? There was nothing professional about her being naked, save for a bathroom towel, on my bed in my hotel room.

I picked up my iPod from the dresser and connected it to my laptop. It wasn’t stereo quality, but it was going to have to do. I could sense her eying me anxiously, wondering what I was doing. But she didn’t speak a word, just continued to lay on the bed, holding her breast with her hands.

I pulled up my playlist, clicked shuffle and the first song filled the laptops small speakers. It was Changing Faces “Stroke You Up“.

I smiled when the record came on and felt slightly embarrassed, or more so corny because of this nigga rigged setup. But the smile she returned let me know she was feeling it.

I came back towards the bed, cracked my knuckles, and applied more lotion to my hands. She repositioned herself on the bed and let her arms go from her chest. She laid the side of her head on the bed and closed her eyes, allowing her arms to rest flat. It seems, she finally had relaxed to the point to allow the moment to take over. I rubbed my hands together and was again connecting with her shoulders and neck area. I wanted to massage the knot out of her so I worked it. She was tense so I made sure to be aggressive, pushing in a downward motion. Her breathing intensified as did the pace of my massage, and she let out a few soft moans.

“Hurt?” I asked.

“Uh uh” she moaned.

Eventually, I started making my way down her bare back. I glided my fingers across the crevice of her lower back, which I was sure tickled her. She smirked, “That’s not how you massage”.

“My bad” I smiled.

I went back to seriously massaging her back. Pressing hard, applying pressure, and rubbing the body lotion in. I don’t know who was enjoying this more, me or her, but we rode the wave of pleasure until the next song came on; Anything by Janet Jackson.

She liked this, I could tell, because a smile crept across her face, even while her eyes remained closed tight. I was determined to lotion her entire body, because isn’t that what women did after a shower? Or maybe I just had other motives. But I was right back to the $200 bottle of lotion, this time making my way down to her legs, skipping what the towel was hid. She didn’t budge, so I figured she was cool with me venturing down south.

I touched her back thigh and she was jumping again, but I made sure my touch was firm. She wasn’t going anywhere. I rubbed her thighs with lotion while she lay flat on her stomach and then made me way down to her legs. I had never realized it till then, but she was a nicely built woman. Of course she was skinny, that was how this industry wanted them. But she had thick legs and thighs, a lot more meat on them than I originally thought. It was a refreshing touch and it fed my thirst for her even more.

I ran my hands down her legs to her heel and stopped. I remembered how other chicks I had been with hated for me to touch their feet. They had some type of phobia against having their feet touched. Stacy kicked me one time when I attempted to touch her toes. I wasn’t trying to get kicked this night and Bee looked like she had some strong ass leg muscles.

I looked down at Bee who still had her eyes closed. If she had reserves about me going that far, she sure wasn’t showing it. I shrugged my shoulders, and went for it. I applied lotion to her pretty small feet, not a corn or bunion or hang nail in sight; Thank God. By the time her feet were moist and soft, the next track was coming on. And it was a fitting track; Feeling On Your Booty by R. Kelly.

She laughed out loud when the speaker sang the first note. I wasn’t laughing though, we were going to do this right….right?

“You ready for the next spot?” I asked.

“And where is that?” she said, opening her eyes.

“The spot on your body with no lotion”.

She didn’t immediately respond so I couldn’t tell if she really was having second thoughts about me going there or not. If she truly was against it, I wasn’t going to push it. But sometimes women needed that little push to get them to do something they wanted anyway. Women could be so hard to get. Had to pry their desires out of them.

“No Hanky Panky” I said in my most convincing tone.

She was eying me and grinning her nervous, pseudo innocent grin. She wanted it, regardless of how much she would front.

“If you don’t want me to then it’s cool” I said, giving her a fake out. I knew she wouldn’t take it.

“Just give me a second. Let me breath” she said.

I waited as she took a few deep breaths. The song was halfway over by this point, damn maybe I was going to have to repeat?

“Ok. I’m ready” she said trying to shake the giggles, once again closing her eyes.

I wasn’t going to wait for her to backtrack. She had given me the word and her word was bond. I put my hands on the top of the towel, and gently folded it back. It was on tight, folded inside of her stomach. She was going to have to sit up for me to take it off. I tugged, she scooted up a bit and the unwrapping begin. I unwrapped it like like a kid did his present on Christmas morning. Or better yet, I unwrapped that damn towel from around her waist like a fat kid unwrapped a Snickers on Halloween. No tricks about this night though, just treat.

I treated my eyes to two golden brown booty cheeks. I saw out of the corner of my eye that she had opened her eyes and was watching me staring at her bare ass. She had a more seductive smirk across her face; she enjoyed me watching her in her birthday suit, I could tell. But, I had to regain my composure and finish the job. This was business, my mission was to lotion and massage. No Hanky Panky, Shawn. Act like I’ve seen an ass before, I said to myself.

But as I dropped squirts of the lotion on her lower back and the next track from my laptop came on, I realized that I had never seen an ass like this before. It had my mouth watering, even in the darkened room.

Just Me and You by Tony Toni Tone was next.

I wanted to prolong the moment as I first rubbed her lower back while still staring at the perfection that was her backside. She had her eyes closed now, but that smirk still remained. Maybe she thought this was a laughing matter, but I was open. Wide open. After I couldn’t possibly resist those cheeks anymore I slowly let my hands slide down.

She had jumped each time I explored a different part of her body, but when my hands gently begin rubbing her ass, there was none of that. Instead, I was the one close to jumping. I let my desire to touch and feel override my desire to be professional about it, and I squeezed her ass and moved the cheeks together, letting them fall back naturally into place and and jiggle.

Shit, if rapping didn’t work out, I could see myself doing this for a living. I made sure to apply lotion over every part of her ass and hips, getting good between her crack as well. I looked down and although I couldn’t really see anything because of the dimmed lights, I wanted to venture towards those other places. I reached my right hand in-between her legs, high so I wouldn’t rub up against her pussy, and moisturized those places. I was careful how I moved my hands because at this point I was dangerously close to her asshole. Massaging was one thing, but I wasn’t going to penetrate her, if I could help it. I carefully applied lotion and breathed a sigh of relief when I got all of her dry spots without jeopardizing the credibility of my so called professional massage.

As the song went on, I rubbed and grabbed and squeezed and lotioned her bare backside, and when the next song came on, I was back to her neck.

This Woman’s Work by Maxwell was next up.

And for reasons to me that are still undefined, I completely lost any desire to keep my pinky promise. With one hand on her lower back I leaned in and kissed her shoulder. She jumped at the kiss and opened her eyes, but she didn’t stop me. And with that level of permission, I continued. I kissed the side of her neck, and then the middle of her vertebrate, then the curve of her back and then I came to that ass. Her ass got two kisses, one on each cheek. She giggled as I did this.

I continued on, making stops at her thighs, heels, and pulling her legs up so I could kiss her toes. The expression, I want to lick you from head to toe was ringing true. But the kisses sufficed, for now.

I stood straight up, and looked back down to where she was laying, eyes still closed. I walked over to her and planted a kiss on her forehead. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“Done” I said, “How was it?”

She reached over for the towel that was laying on the bed and pulled it back into her, sitting up and wrapping it around her torso and chest.

“It was aight” she grinned.

“Aight?” I barked playfully.

“You missed a few spots” she jabbed at me.

“You must be talking about spots on the front, because I got every single part of your ass. Trust me on that one”.

She laughed quickly and then turned serious.

“Honestly, Jay. That was the most relaxing massage I had ever gotten”.

“You ever had one bare assed like that?”

She smirked, “Well, one time when me and the girls went to the Islands. We, kind of sort of got one”.

“I see, so I ain’t the first”.

“Not the first, but you’re the best” she smiled.

I could live with that.

She stood up with the towel wrapped around her and reached for her clothes that were on the floor. I figured these were her sleeping clothes. I had to admit, I was a bit disappointed. I expected that after this massage she would be feenin’ for sex. But I tried to contain my emotions, as I didn’t want to come off childish or thirsty; even though I was thirsty as hell. I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on anything other than the image and feel of that curved, warm, brown, pillow soft, booty that I had rubbed on.

I tried, but it wasn’t working. I wanted more. She went into the bathroom and put her basic sleeping clothes on and came back to the room. I was in the bed with my tank and shorts on. I strategically left the lights dim and the music playing. Did she really think this was over or was there a method to her madness?

She returned and saw me lying in the bed, staring at her. I made sure to show no hint of humor. I wasn’t a very sexy looking fellow, so I didn’t front like LL and lick my lips or anything. I just laid there looking needy. If that couldn’t get her to feel my pain then nothing would.

“Can I check my email?” she asked, out of the f*cking blue.

“Go ahead” I said instinctively, still not believing that this moment was over.

She went to the computer, clicked around, and read. I just sat there and watched her, as the blood in my penis returned to the rest of my body. I was in disbelief. She then pulled out her cell phone and pressed a few buttons before putting the phone to her head.

“Hey ma. I’m…Mom Listen. I’m fine” she said, trying to get a word in.

Uh oh.

“Yes I know what time it is. I don’t know why you were worried if you saw my car gone. Do I have to say something every time I go out?”

I felt uncomfortable listening to her little argument with her folks. I hated being around people arguing, it made me feel self conscious; like I was intruding. I never understood why people would argue around other people. I was a private guy, I never argued around other people, out of courtesy for myself and the other person. I decided to walk to the bathroom to take a piss. I stayed in there until Beyonce was off the phone and then I walked out.

“Everything ok? Do you have to go?” I asked.

“No” she barked quickly.

“Damn? Don’t bite my head off. “

“I’m sorry Jay. They just get on my nerves sometimes with how overprotective they are. I’m 20. I have a life outside of them. It’s so aggravating”.

“I feel you Bee. But they are only looking out for your best interest. You are a star, and I can see why they would worry when you are out and about”.

“I get all of that Jay. I do, but you can’t even see where I’m coming from? I guess I’m being a brat by wanting some freedom” she sighed, flopping on the bed.

I walked over to her and sat down next to her. I could sense she didn’t want me to play devils advocate, she wanted someone to empathize.

“You’re not a brat. You are a woman wanting to make mature decisions for yourself. And I respect that, wanting your independence”.

“It must be so much easier to be a dude. I bet you didn’t have that problem growing up” she said.

“Don’t be so sure. My mom kept my ass locked up in the house when I was younger. I was the baby so she was extra protective of me. But I broke my way out and in the process she lost a lot of trust in me. Part of me wished I had parameters and boundaries like some other kids had growing up. Maybe I wouldn’t have made so many bad decisions”.

She listened to me and started playing with her finger nails, looking down.

“Jay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…imply that you had it better or anything. When you put it like that, it does make me look spoiled and petty”.

“Bee, I’m not trying to imply that. I really do respect how you feel and it’s valid. You have every right to feel the way you do”.

She started fidgeting with her fingernails again. Then looked me in my eyes.

“Can I admit something to you? I hope you don’t hate me when I say it”.

I prepared for something that would piss me off. But my face remained neutral.

“Wassup?”

She took a deep breath and bit her lip.

“I’m not ready for us to have sex yet. I want to. But I don’t think it’s what I need to do right now. It would be like I’m doing it to get back at my parents. I hope this makes sense”.

As she confessed, I waited for me to feel a certain way, anger was what I presumed. But surprisingly, I felt none. I wasn’t mad or disappointed either. Hell, maybe I was agreeing with her jumbled thoughts.

“It’s cool Bee. I have no issue with that. I want you to be ready, more than anything”.

“Does this mean I still can’t spend the night here?” she asked.

I grinned, “Nah. You can still kick it. Just stay on your side of the bed”.

I think she felt a release when she told me this and I was cool with it. After we chatted about her people some more and made our way to the bed, she reached for my laptop.

“I want to show you something” she said.

“It better not be porn” I laughed.

“No silly. It’s something I do to help relieve my stress. But don’t laugh”.

I sat up and watched as she slowly typed in the web address for AOL chat. After a few clicks away from the home page, she was in a list of web chat rooms. She typed in Beyonce in a search bar, and a list of Beyonce centered chat rooms appeared. One of them had over 200 people chatting, and that was the one she clicked on.

“The hell?” I asked, curious as to what she was about to do.

She used a screen name, DCsucks473 to sign into the room.

She started cheesing.

“Ok. This is what I do sometimes to entertain myself when I am sad. I always get a kick out of it”.

“Signing into chat rooms to talk about you? Are you a narcissist or something?”

She giggled, “No. Not exactly. I log into these chat rooms and talk bad about Destiny Child and Beyonce and watch all of our fans come to my rescue and defend us. It is so funny because some of these people are die hards. Like you know that song by Eminem, Stan? That is how these people are. It’s hilarious”.

I was taken back by this girls form of therapy, but glued into it none the less. I watched as she wrote comments like “Beyonce is such a b*tch. Why did she kick out the other girls of DC?”

And almost immediately, swarms of comments followed chastising her statement.

“It’s not Bey’s fault the other girls were jealous of her success. Dem other O’s just salty”.

A few of the people there were indeed haters and agreed with anything that was a negative to Beyonce, but most of them seemed to be stans, as Beyonce had stated. They were on damage control, shooting down any negative word about Bee and Destiny’s Child. I couldn’t understand how people could be up late at night chatting away about pop stars as if they knew them, but I could see how she would find entertainment in it. It was pretty funny. I decided I wanted to play along.

“Let me type something” I said to her, smiling.

She laughed, “Go ahead”.

I grabbed the laptop and thought of something entertaining.

“I heard Beyonce was f*cking the rapper Jay-Z. Is this true?” I typed before pressing enter.

Beyonce howled in laughter as I grinned, waiting on the replies to my question to the chat room. My pride was hurt a bit when the responses came in.

“Camel looking Jay-Z? No thanks. Beyonce can do better” one person said.

“LMAO. Yeah right DCsucks. She would never mess with a loser like him. Maybe Nelly” someone else posted.

“I heard Nelly f*cked Beyonce and Kelly. I bet it’s true too”.

Beyonce was now laughing even harder at the comments and possibly the shocked expression on my face. The hell?

“Beyonce and Tyreese or Justin Timberlake would make a good couple. Maybe even Ja Rule” someone said.

Then Beyonce4life2001, the biggest stan of them all commented.

“I actually read a rumor somewhere that B and Jay-Z were talking. Idk if it’s true or not cuz everyone spreads rumors. But I don’t think it’s that far fetched. We all know B likes them bad boys and Jay ain’t that ugly….he kinda cute”.

I begin typing “Jay Z is not ugly…” but Beyonce stopped me before I could defend myself.

“Nah, let them chat away. I told you it’s hilarious” she said.

“Yeah maybe for you. But they are going in on me right now” I responded.

“I bet if you went to one of the hip hop chat rooms more people would say good things about you. My fans are a different breed though” she smiled.

“I guess so. But at least one chick likes me” I pretended to pout.

She grinned again, an evil grin this time.

“You wanna see something?” she said before clicking on Beyoncefan4life2001′s name and heading to his AOL profile.

Just my damn luck. It was a dude’s profile. This was the only person in the damn chat room to say I was cute? I was done with the chat room experience. I hit the close box and shook my damn head as Beyonce cracked up laughing.

“Shit, that depressed me. Now I need to be cheered up” I sighed.

“Aww po baby” she teased, making them ugly expressions that adults make to infants.

We joked with each other back and forth until we were all laughed out, and sleep was setting in. It had been a long day, but an enjoyable one. And although it apparently wasn’t going to end in sex, there wasn’t a place I would have rather been than chilling with her in that bed. She was on the left of the bed facing towards me laying on two pillows. We were looking at each other in silence.

I was wondering what she was thinking. I wondered if she was wondering what I was thinking. I was thinking about us for the present and future. What were we? Could we say we were friends after all of the kissing we had done? Could we say that we were lovers without having made love? I mean, I had rubbed all on her ass and she was laying in my hotel bed, but she also had let some foreigner rub her bare ass, so maybe that didn’t mean anything.

Our celebrity status and obligations to music made it difficult for us to ever put clear labels and definitions on any relationships we had. But the unique relationship me and her shared with each other was a dangerous one if we got no clarity. Someone, namely me, could be hurt if we weren’t on the same page. Ok, she was happy being around me. But was that just for today? Or did that mean for the long term? This was really starting to become an impossible puzzle to figure out.

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” she asked, breaking the silence.

I wanted to ask her to clarify our relationship so I’d know how to deal with it. But I knew what her answer would be. She wasn’t quite ready to give an answer. Or at least one that was clear and concise. As far as she was concerned, we were friends that were attracted to each other, but further than that? Single. I knew she needed time to make up her mind regarding anything long term, and I didn’t want to be the one to pressure her into making a decision. Or maybe I was just too afraid to ask, for fear of not hearing what I desired to hear.

I decided to lie.

“I was thinking about how great you felt in my hands”.

“Your hands felt great on me” she responded.

“And what about the kisses?”

She smiled, “Those were just the cherries on top”.

I grabbed her hand from under the covers and swallowed it with mine. It was so soft and delicate. Our fingers intertwined as we continued to lock eyes.

“Jay. Honestly. You don’t have to give me the gentleman answer. But are you really not mad that we aren’t going to have sex tonight? Like it doesn’t make you feel like I am playing games?”

I didn’t quite know how to answer this one on the spot.

“Is this a trick question?” I grinned.

“No Seriously. I want to know how you feel. How does it make you feel?”

“Horny” I blurted out.

“What else?”

“Ok Bee. Yeah, I would have liked to make love to you tonight. But as long as you are real with me, I can respect your decision not to. There will be other times, hopefully. And when you are ready, I’ll be there. It’s no pressure”.

“You ever waited for a girl before?”.

“Fannie” I replied.

“Of course. The infamous Fannie. Do I compare to her at all?”

Damn, this was really venturing into territory where I wasn’t comfortable. She was asking some loaded questions.

“Not really. Yall are nothing alike” I said truthfully.

“Ouch” she responded quickly, indicating that her feelings were hurt by my answer.

“I don’t mean like that, Bee. I’m just saying. You two have very different personalities”.

She hesitated before responding.

“Yeah, but it’s obvious that you really loved her. So I’d think that you would want someone that was similar to her” she stated.

“Not necessarily. I want someone that I can love for who they are. They don’t have to compare or be similar to anyone, you feel me?”.

“I hear you Jay and I understand. I guess I just hope my personality doesn’t run you off. I know I can be hot and cold, and b*tchy, and immature sometimes. I’m not really use to having anything serious with anybody, so I struggle with it”.

“It’s to be expected Bee. You are still young. Not young as in a little girl. You are a woman and all that. I’m just saying you don’t have that life experience that teaches you how to deal with it. I was the same way. I get you. Don’t feel shame bout’ it. “

“I don’t want to mess things up” she said.

I don’t either Bee. I’ve ran off the one person I really tried to have something real with. At least you haven’t failed at relationships yet.”

“You think me and you would fail, it we took it there?” she asked.

Another question that I didn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know honestly. But I’d be willing to give it a shot. See where it would take us”.

“So you would be willing to deal with my immaturity and weirdness? Is that even a word, weirdness” she laughed.

“Know what, let me think about this” I said, pretending to ponder her former question.

“Yes Bee. I’d be willing to deal with your immaturity….and the weirdness”.

“So sweet” she begin, “And exactly what I think I need“.

“Nah” I laughed, “You need some time to decide. Ima give you that”.

There was a peaceful silence for a while as we just chilled. No labels, no clarity, no outside world. Just Beyonce and Shawn laying in bed, relaxing. I was going to give her the time she needed to decide, but as I stared at her, I hoped it wouldn’t take too long.

“You mind if we sleep to the music that was playing? You had a good mix”.

“You should see my collection at the crib. I got all the jams”.

I reached for the laptop, pulled up the playlist and hit shuffle.

Red Light Special by TLC was next on deck.

“Damn Jay. This is my SONG” she screamed.

I grinned, “Girl what you know about a red light special? You were what? in middle school when this came out? I was f*cking when this came out”.

“Child boo. I can appreciate some good love making music even if I ain’t making love to it”.

“I suppose so. But you can’t really appreciate it until you have sex to it”.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to have sex to it soon” she smiled.

“Bee, stop teasing. Stop it now” I said.

She giggled to herself.

“My bad. I’ll stop. It must be hard for you”.

“Understatement of the Century” I responded.

“Can I admit something?” she asked.

I noticed this was becoming a theme with us. Admitting truths in increments. I was looking forward to this one though, since it came directly after sex talk. What had sparked whatever she was about to admit?

“You were right” she said.

“I was right? About what? I’m right most of the time, anyway”.

“See there you go. Getting a big head”.

I smiled, “Ok, so let me know. What was I right about, this time”.

“When I took a shower. I did…you know.”

“No I don’t know. You did what?” I asked, wanting to hear her say it.

“I had to take care of myself” she answered, skating around explicit words.

I decided to let her off the hook instead of acting oblivious. I think I had to because as much as I wanted to joke with her about it, I was mad as hell. That was so unfair.

“You know that is messed up, right?”

“What?”

“You up there, ‘taking care of yourself’ while I am up here with a dick hard enough to cut diamonds. That’s messed up B. So selfish”.

She was laughing at my analogy, her deep south accent was so funny to me. Her laugh had more bass than mine did, it always got to me even when I didn’t want it to.

I was smiling, “Don’t laugh. It really ain’t funny. I’m going through some things right now”.

She continued giggling while at the same time moving closer in the bed to me. With the laugh still in her mouth, she pressed her lips against mine. We both smiled as we kissed. I guess this was her way of apologizing, and I guess my kiss back to her way my way or forgiving. I didn’t really forgive her though, I just had the damn-est time resisting her.Aaliyah’s cover of At Your Bestfilled the speakers.The switch in the tone of the music caused the grins to leave our faces as our kissing intensified. I couldn’t get enough of tasting this womans lips and tongue and juices and all that. She was doing things to my heart that I didn’t even think were possible anymore. I had butterflies. Hell, I had Dragonflies flying around in there. But like a school boy, I kissed and relished in the moment.We laid on the bed, our heads turned to the side and kissed while her hand slept in mine. It was such a relaxed and sleepy kiss. In such a rhythm where we kissed at the same rate as we breathed exhaled. Our eyes were closed as the music played. We gently kissed each other through the entire song. Our lips taking turns moving from the top to the bottom. When the next track was coming on, we were catching our breath.No, No, No, Part 1 pumped, of course the first single by Destiny Child.”Very cute” she smiled.

“Come here” I said, pulling her towards me. And the kissing started again, this time she climbed on top of me.

My hands explored as did hers. At that point, I don’t think Beyonce actually had any idea what my manhood felt like. But when she sat on me ,she felt it. I knew she felt it because she jumped. She was sitting on top of my full erection and there was no way you could mistake it. We had told ourselves in round about ways that we wouldn’t have sex that night, but our next few moves seemed to betray our words completely.

I begin rubbing her breast through her shirt and she begin lifting up my shirt. She lifted it up and let it hit the floor. She kissed my neck and shoulder and rubbed her fingers down my chest. I let her, closing my eyes and enjoying her exploration. But it wasn’t fair, I wanted to return the favor. I slowly begin lifting up her shirt and she let it happen, which surprised me. Soon, her shirt was over her head and on the floor. Her bra followed right after, finally exposing those breast to me.

I didn’t have to go back and forth in my head trying to remember what they looked like. She had large, pointy, nipples. Four or five shades darker than her skin. Her breast were perky and big enough to where I’d struggle to get it in my mouth. I couldn’t tell what was more eye candy, her tits or her ass.

Fortunately, neither were just eye candy that night. I cupped them in my hands and massaged them, eventually pinching her nipples causing them to puff up. I brought her closer in to me and went to kiss them, but she stopped me.

“No sex. Ok?”

Wait, wait. Hold the f*ck up. Was she really sitting on me topless and telling me no sex? Had this girl lost her mind? I had to calm down because I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel. I said I could deal with her immaturity, but…this? This was insanity.

“Bee?” I began to pout.

“I know, I know. But can we just hold each other like this? Sleep like this?”

She kissed my chin to try and calm me down. Maybe my anger had calmed down a tad, but my dick was just as hard and angry. It didn’t help as we continued to kiss and she ended up taking off her shorts and panties. She had rolled over, slid her lower garments off and laid there looking at me catch my breath. She took them off and dropped them to the floor as if it was helping the situation.

I was at a crossroads, I remembered folks like Mike Tyson and Tupac. Now I see what they went through. But as she kissed me and I stared at the ceiling, I tried my absolute best to see things from her point of view. She wanting a sexual experience, embrace but not sex. This was a step for her. Just a step, that eventually led to other steps. SHould I kill it before it begins or nurture it? Damn, I didn’t even have time to think things through because she was tugging at my shorts.

“I want to see it” she whispered in my ear.

I wanted to say no, no, no, no, no. But I was too far gone to say no to this naked girl all cuddled up in my bed as music played. Almost as if I was acting off instincts, I pulled down my shorts and boxers, and joined her in the nude under the covers. She kissed me on the cheek. I wondered what was next. She reached over and touched my stomach. I jumped, almost feeling violated by her touch. I felt like I was the woman, like she had all of the control in this. It scared the hell out of me.

Her hands moved slowly, very slowly, down my belly and her finger tips  graced the tip and most sensitive part of my hard dick. It almost tickled and I jumped. She smiled at this. I had to look in her eyes to see what she was thinking. She seemed to be in another state, intoxicated by the music and the feel of my penis. I think she liked having control over this, when she normally didn’t have much control in her life. She kissed me and rubbed her fingers around the opening of my penis, softly, gently, sensually. It drove me mad.

She eventually palmed it, just the top of it as her tiny hand struggled with wrapping around it. I could tell by her gasp that she had never held anything in her hand like this before. It gave me a sort of pleasure. I licked her chin as I let out a gasp, at her grasp.

“Rub it” I said, in my own bliss.

She slowly and softly rubbed it, not to the point where she was jacking me off, but more of a massage. Just enough to where the warm of her hand transferred to my penis. We kissed as she did this. I put my hand around her lower back and made my way down to her ass. And we kissed like this for a long time. It wasn’t something I would have ever planned, not at my age. But as it happened, I saw the genius in it. It was a foreplay I never had experienced in my life. It was a level of erotic, hardcore intimacy that even sex couldn’t compare to, as backwards as that sounds. Just the anticipation of it, the denial of sex while still embracing her in all of her glory, was a transcendent experience. Like a sexual fast or some shit that was philosophical, but too deep for my horny ass to think of.

The sex would come, I was sure of it, but it wasn’t coming that night; I was sure of that too. Instead, we’d lay in bed naked and went to a base not yet invented. Not third base, not second, not home or first. We went to a dimension where we did the unthinkable. Prolonged sex while making love, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s one of those had to be there moments. But I was paradoxically drained and overfilled as I touched ever inch of her while kissing; knowing I couldn’t relive any sexual stress backed up. The stress, pain, and denial of her was pleasurable such as the knife is to the skin of a cutter. The cutting of the sexual tension was giving me pleasure.

After we were done kissing, which went on for another portion of my playlist, she turned around and we spooned. I held her close to me as my dick planted firmly against the top off her ass as her back pressed into my chest. I kissed her shoulder and sucked on her neck. In that position, we drifted off to sleep, hours after the naked makeout session began.

We woke up the next morning grinning, as if we experienced mind blowing sex. Whatever we experienced was pretty mind blowing, but it couldn’t be classified as sex. I guess it was fitting, since everything about us was so organic but without a label or classification. She slid out of bed with the cover to hide her nakedness and got dressed in the bathroom. It was cute to me. It was also immature and weird, but I smiled in realizing that it was what I signed up for. Beyonce. Man, this girl was going to be the death of me.

The funny thing is, this little naked spooning went on for our next three meetings. We always would meet in a hotel, eat, kiss, get in the bed, get naked, and kiss some more. We never once had sex during this period but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel as if we did. There was never even any oral sex, unless you count the oral action of our tongues f*cking.

But this changed the fourth time we did it, the day before Nas new album was to drop. She was in New York, and we were still hiding our friendship/relationship. She had come to my house to chill. We cooked dinner in my kitchen together, watched a movie and made our way towards my bedroom. We didn’t ever state we were going to do the naked kissing thing, it just would happen. I always went into it thinking we were going to f*ck, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she still wasn’t ready. I’d sigh and just try to enjoy the greatness that was her body. It was a learning experience, to learn to appreciate and love a womans body without f*cking her. I never rubbed and felt on thighs, legs, ass, tits, shoulders, and hands so many times in my life. It was always usually the sides, but now touching and kissing her body was the main course.

We did the whole naked and kissing thing and even took a shower together that night before going to sleep. We were spooning in our usual position, my dick rested against her ass, when she made a sudden move to get comfortable. This move sent my penis lower down her ass. I noticed it, but I was half sleep. It was around 5 in the morning. I dozed back off, but awoke when I noticed she had moved yet again and my dick was even further down.

I had a hard time going soft while we did this, but even in a semi hard state, my penis pressed against her. The third time she repositioned herself was the moment my penis stood directly up, and the tip made it’s way into her vagina. I felt the sudden change in temperature on the tip and I knew immediately where I was at. I heard her take a deep breath, but she remained facing the other direction and still.

She couldn’t be sleep, could she? Five minutes later, a small portion of my penis still at the entrance of her vagina, she moved again. More of my dick made it’s way inside of her lips. this time breaking the entrance fully. I was inside of her and I KNEW she felt it.

Still, she remained motionless, and supposedly sleeping. I didn’t believe it. I was half sleep but I could feel this. I knew she could. I tapped her on the shoulder.

“You sleep?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything but her body language did. Not even a full minute later, she had moved again. There was no guessing about it this time, my penis was directly inside of her vagina. There was no thrusting or f*cking. But technically, this was sex right? It was weird, because the naked kissing seemed more like sex than us just laying there with my penis halfway in her pussy. What the hell was this considered?

She had weird ways of inventing experiences that I couldn’t categorize. But she didn’t move anymore for the rest of that morning. We laid there, like that, until she was yawning around dawn.

“Hello, sleepy” I said, wide awake.

I had been awake for a good hour.

She turned around, grunting as she pulled myself out of her.

“Hey. How long you been up?”

I looked at my dick.

“A good minute” I said.

She yawned some more and covered her breast with her left arm. She wiped her eyes with her other hand.

“So you are just now waking up?” I asked.

She smiled, “Yeah. Why?”

I looked at her in one of those, stop lying faces. She played dumb, or was truly confused. It’s up to you to decide which one.

“You didn’t feel anything weird, this morning?” I asked.

“No. What do you mean?” she asked.

“You didn’t feel…anything?”

“Like what?”

I laughed to myself because this was the last straw. I’d had enough. It was time. I reached over to my dresser and pulled out a box of condoms, taking one Magnum XL out of the box. She looked at the condom and then at me, all confused and shit.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

I laughed at the question.

“It’s for us to stop beating around the bush. And I know you know what I mean” I said.

She laughed and held her hands up like she didn’t know what I was talking about. But it didn’t matter. I had played on her terms for weeks, hell months even. But it was time I made the move to take it there, all the way there. I brought her closer to me and we shared a good morning kiss. She tried to prolong the kiss, but there would be no more prolonging the inevitable this morning.

I begin opening the condom and she just looked in shock, or excitement, or fear. Whatever look her face was attempting to suggest. When it was out, I gave her the honors.

“You want to put it on?” I asked.

She looked at me and then down at my dick. She made the decision in .02 seconds by grabbing the condom and sliding it down. Finally, she had made her decision. Maybe it was more physiological than anything for her to prolong our sex for a few weeks. But whatever it was, it seems she was now ready.

She mounted me and we kissed. When she pulled back, she leaned in closer to my ear.

“You know this will be my first time riding, right?”

I smiled, kissed her, placed my hands on her waist and helped guide her down. For a virgin at the rodeo, she didn’t do half bad. We spent the next hour bringing in the morning by trying out every position she was a virgin to.

December 18, 2001

I was in shock. I was literally in a state of shock. I had won, I figured I already had won. I was the King, I was the don of New York. Jay-Z.

So how did he do it? How did he f*cking do it? I sat and listened to the record for the third straight time and I knew it would be a problem. Nas album Stillmatic was dropping and his official diss to me, Ether, was officially released.

I thought I had delivered the knockout blow to Nas and his career months earlier, but the man had come back. And he had come back HARD. His disses were personal, some of them directly referencing things that only he and I knew about. As I listened, I tried to calm my emotions because Bleek, Ty, Dash, and a few other employees were around.

I could see it in their eyes. Nas had come back. And I was going to have to strike back, or I was going to lose this battle that I had already declared victory in.

Gave y’all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music

He was accusing me of betraying him and making fun of me for shouting out his name on my albums in the 90′s. Even bringing up my Hawaiian Sophie appearance.

This for dolo and his manuscript, just sound stupid
When KRS already made an album called Blueprint

He was going against my entire crew by himself and claiming I stole concepts, including the Blueprint from KRS. He was a wise one, fully intending to make me out to be unoriginal. The bastard.

First, Biggie’s ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big
Dick sucking lips, why don’t you let the late, great veteran live

He referenced a song I did where I said if I’m not better than Big, I was the closest one and twisted it to make it sound like I said I was better. Then he implied that I was killing my mans legacy? The punches kept coming and coming.

Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is hard, hug me, don’t reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly

Ouch. This one hurt. More than I would ever admit to a living person. But it hurt.

Calling my crib and I ain’t even give you my numbers
All I did was give you a style for you to run with
Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the god

He mentioned the time I called his crib to get him to come to the studio and he played me. He accused me of biting his style and being happy to do a song with him. I always admired the man’s music when I first got started, but taking his style? Damn, these weren’t things that were totally true, but I could see how his ass could believe it. And more importantly, I could see how the fans would believe it.

Wearing Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase

And here it was, his attempt to totally dismiss my credibility. But could I blame the man? I sold crack and hustled for much of my life, but when I entered the rap game, I was virtually broke. Fannie was paying our bills and most of the money I got was from rapping. I was sure he talked with Jaz-O about this, because Jaz was the only one at the time that knew I didn’t have the kind of money I bragged about having. But I couldn’t let anyone know I was broke at that time because it would seem like my drug dealing days was a lie.

I would be seen as the MC Hammer of slanging if I made money, then lost it all to run from the game. That is what it would be seen as, running from that nigga Antoine that wanted to kill me.

Jaz and I weren’t tight anymore, he was salty for various reasons. I knew it, I could sense it, that Jaz had gave some dirt to Nas.

You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe, tryna’ work it out, you tryna’ get brolic?
Ask me if I’m tryna’ kick knowledge
Nah, I’m tryna’ kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow

He referenced my Karate line in the Girls, Girls, Girls, track and then flipped one of my lines that was aimed at him. I wouldn’t and I couldn’t admit it, but my soul WAS burning slow listening to this shit.

Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he’s Puffy

Damn. Damn. Damn. This man was taking an angle that would have everyone side with him. It was lines like this that would switch the momentum. Even Dash flinched when he heard it.

Foxy got you hot ’cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you getting girls now ’cause of your looks?

Low ass blow. But what could I expect from him? I mean, I did f*ck his girl. He was just trying to save face since he knew about the Carmen thing. He was playing a game of chess with me.

How much of Biggie’s rhymes is gonna come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics

I heard those last few lines and shook my head. But I was reminded of the previous part of his song where he said I was ugly. That was it, that was what I was going to play off of. I had to come back and I had to do it soon before the fans begin siding with him. And I had to expose once and for all that I f*cked Nas baby momma. It was now or never, my legacy and career was on the line here.

The last time I heard the track, I brushed it off, put a cocky grin on my face and told my crew not to worry. I had something that would turn the odds back in my favor. I had the trump card; humiliation. I went straight to the studio to record a response track that would be called Superugly. I was going to make fun of him for letting a so called ugly rapper f*ck his girl. That was the angle I was going to take. It was the only card I had left.

I didn’t have time to wait for Kanye or anybody to give me a beat. In fact, I felt as if I didn’t need a beat to take down Nas once and for all. I had f*cked his b*tch multiple times, and that alone would be enough to kill any comeback attempt. Those were my thoughts as I entered the studio, but I wasn’t even sure if my crew believed it. They looked distraught, as if they doubted me. How the hell could this happen? Just a month ago, we were grinning, popping bottles, touring overseas, and basking in the glory of becoming the victors in this rap shit. And now, the streets were talking and they were cheering for Nas.I listened to the radio before getting to the studio, and they kept replaying Ether over and over. Fans were blowing up the phone lines calling in, and most of them kept echoing the sentiment that they couldn’t believe Nas had came back on me. A few of my loyal fans called in as well to dismiss the record, but even I felt they were fronting. It was a hot record, a surprisingly hot ass record. The beat, the flow, the hook, the lyrics. He had taken half a year to write his response and it came out perfectly. It was the perfect battle record.The dudes in the studio were crowding around me, just anxious and ready for me to strike back. But I saw something in them that I had never seen before, regarding me; doubt. Was these niggas really doubting my ability to come back at this clown? Did they forget who I was?The Ether joint was a shock to my system, the fans on the radio hurt my pride a bit, but the one thing that pissed me off was looking in the eyes of my inner circle and seeing them doubt me. This energized me thoroughly, like a recharged battery pack. I had slipped, I had become too complacent in my stake in the game. I was sleeping while this nigga Nas was like Rocky in the meat market.I was too busy messing with Beyonce and trying to shed my tough guy image to her and not paying enough attention to my career and this battle that i had helped to start. I refused to go out like that. I refused to lose…ever. I refused to go out like the other sucker for love Greek tragic figures. It was time to remove the gloves and become Hova the God. It was time to kill this maggot.”Jay, get em” Bleek told me right before I stepped in the booth.

Ty Ty rolled up a blunt and let me get a hit. I told the producer to throw on the instrumental to Nas last single, Got Yourself a Gun. I was going to flip his beat to record my venom. I let the record play for a bit, hit the blunt, and ran my words through my head. I was angry at his sudden come back diss but I had to control it and channel it into dope rhymes. All I kept thinking about was potentially losing this battle to him and what it would do to my career, my legacy.

These fears were crowding my judgment as I thought of lyrics. I got writers block at one point, having to step outside for a minute. My phone was blowing up with calls and text but I ignored them all, even Beyonce’s. I had to get my mind right for the moment. I went back into the studio and knocked out my two verses in half an hour.

With lines like

Me and the boy AI got more in carmen
than just balling and rhyming, get it? More in Carmen

and

I came in ya Bentley backseat
Skeeted in Jeep
Left condoms in the baby seat

I was sure it would be raunchy and embarrassing enough for the public to side with me. It worked for Pac when he went at Biggie, and claimed he f*cked his wife Faith. I couldn’t see it not working for me. And as my boys gave me dap and gave me props for the track, I felt as if I had my mojo back. The swagger that I lost for a bit was back strong. I had temporarily been shaken by a haymaker from Nas, but I was still standing. And this was going to be the knockout blow.

When I got home, I checked my messages. There were a few dozen of them, mostly from close friends but some from radio hosts and magazine editors. I checked my text and there were even more. The only one I ended up reading was from Beyonce.

Received 7:33 PM: Don’t stress over the song. Don’t let the hip hop stuff change you. Ur better than dat

I never responded to the text.

December 19, 2001

As I left the Hot97 radio station, I felt something tugging at me. I had given Angie Martinez the exclusive premier of my new diss track, Super Ugly.

But instead of feeling confident and at ease like I did when I released Takeover, I felt different. It didn’t feel sweet to release to the world that I had been with Carmen and that shocked me. I didn’t feel as confident and brash and rude and Kingly as I wanted to feel. Pac once said that revenge was the sweetest joy next to getting pussy. But was this really revenge? Talking about a sexual relationship from over a year ago? Did this really make be the better rapper? And in the eyes of New York, would this make me the King? I couldn’t tell and as I rode in the backseat, I noticed the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You got em, B. Nas can’t come back from having his b*tch f*cked and exposed” Bleek said.

I didn’t respond, just nodded and continued looking out the window. The record had only been out for half an hour and already my phone was blowing up. I was going to turn it off completely until I saw a call coming from Beyonce. Since I had not returned her calls the day I was preparing to fire back at Nas, I decided I’d answer this one. I wasn’t really in the mood for talking, but I decided to pick up anyway.

“Yea” I greeted.

“Is this Jay?” she asked.

“Yeah B, wassup?’

“I just heard your Nas diss song” she said simply.

Her tone suggested that she was upset. Still, I remained neutral in my tone considering there were people riding in the car with me. I didn’t want them to know who I was talking to.

“Yea, and?” I said.

She didn’t say anything at first. We were sitting on the phone in silence. But hell, she was the one that called me. I shouldn’t have to beg for her to speak her mind.

“Jay. Wow. That was a very disrespectful song you made. I was kind of disappointed to hear it” she said.

I peeped Ty and Bleek looking at me out of the side of their eye. I knew they were eavesdropping.

“It’s a battle, yo. That’s how these things are. Cut throat like that” I said.

She took a moment before responding.

“I hear you Jay, I really do. But I mean you are really talented and I know you can make some really creative lyrics. I just didn’t see why you had to…you know…involve the mans child and stuff”

“Well it’s not for you to see why. It’s not about you” I responded.

Ty and Bleek looked when I said this. The silence over the line was very loud.

“Ok. Maybe I offended you in what I said but I wasn’t trying to. I’m just saying. I think you are better than talking about skeeting on baby seats”

“Yeah, that’s nice” I said, rubbing my eye, still playing off the conversation I was having with her.

I knew as soon as I said it that her feelings were hurt and that it was a mistake to answer the phone in this car. But what could I know? Apologize to her for dissing the man? It wasn’t happening.

“Know what. Maybe I am out of line and should just take a step back. But I thought as your friend, I could give you my opinion”.

“Your opinion isn’t needed in this situation, you feel me?” I brashly stated.

“Wow. You are the one always talking about constructive criticism but you can’t take it when it comes to you. Is that it Jay? You can dish it but can’t take it?

I didn’t appreciate all of this questioning and I didn’t feel as if I owed her a damn explanation. She didn’t know shit about hip hop, battles, my beef with this nigga or any of that. She could shit her ass down somewhere with her houlier than thou judgment.

“Yo. Did you call me just to b*tch ? Cuz, I really don’t have time for all that” I said even toned.

“Is that what I’m doing? Bitching? Cuz I said the song you put out wasn’t you?”

I took a breath to control my temper, as I was this close to raising my voice at her over the phone. I didn’t like to argue in public, and if my boys weren’t around, I was sure I would have said some things I would have regretted. Instead, I tried to keep things civil.

“Look yo. Maybe you got a connection to this nigga or something. But this is hip hop. It’s no love in this shit. If you can’t see that then that’s on you not me”.

“Shawn I don’t want to hear about there not being any love. You are capable of showing love. I know it. It’s just, how am I going to be trying to make a decision regarding us long term if you are doing things like that? Making music about f*cking a mans wife and leaving condoms on his baby seat. Like, what would that make me look like? What would my dad think? This shit doesn’t help-”

“Then f*ck it then” I interrupted. “I can’t be worried about what shit look like for you and your people. I got my own life to live and I can’t be worried about someone elses”.

“Is that how you feel, Shawn? Now all of a sudden, you’re not worried about what I think or what my people think?”

“I’m worried about my own life. If you or anyone else can’t accept that life then that’s not for me to stress over”.

“Shawn. This is not you. It’s not” she pleaded into the receiver.

Her words angered me. She didn’t know me or my struggle. She didn’t know shit. Who was she to tell me who I was?

“How would you know?” I asked sharply.

“That’s a good question I guess. But hey, Maybe I don’t know. Maybe the man that didn’t take advantage of me and was such a gentleman and ear for me to cry on isn’t the man I think I know”.

“Maybe so” I shot.

“Wow. So this is the bad side that you warned me about. Guess it was all too good to be true” she said, her voice starting to break up.

“I guess so” I said simply.

“Whatever” she barked.

I hung up and tossed the phone on the seat. I grinned at Bleek and Ty who were wondering like hell who I had been talking to.

“Crazy b*tches” I laughed.

They laughed and shook their heads.

After a few minutes, Ty got a call from Carmen. She didn’t have my number, but she had Ty’s. He showed me who was calling and I thought about accepting, just to see what she had to say. But it would be pointless, nothing the b*tch could say would be worth listening to.

“Ignore it” I said to Ty, who gave me a knowing nod and pressed a button.

The rest of the day was a blur. I went home and tried to keep my mind off the radio, the battle, Nas, Beyonce, and all of that shit. I tried to stay to myself and relax a little. I smoked a blunt and drank some liquor before dozing off to sleep for the rest of the day. I was awoken by the sound of my house phone. And only a set few people had my house number.

“Shawn, boy I have been trying to reach you all day” my mother said into the phone.

“I’m sorry Ma. I been out of it. I just woke up when you called”.

“Don’t give me that. You have been ignoring my calls and the calls of everyone else because of this Nas situation”.

I laughed to myself; momma always thinks she knows everything.

‘Whatever you say ma”.

“Am I lying Shawn? What is going on with you? Is this thing that serious that you would go on the radio and talk about another mans wife and child?”

“This is hip hop-” I begin before being shot down.

“Shawn. I. Don’t. Want. To. Hear. It. Hip Hop or not. I raised you better than that. Much better than that. Much better to be proud or boast about something as ugly as that. That’s nothing to be proud of. Of all of the things you have done, Shawn. This is one of the few that actually embarrasses me”.

I thought about responding, maybe even debating against her. But I didn’t. First, I humbled myself and listened to my mother continue her lecture, but secondly, I thought about the words Beyonce had offered me earlier in the day. In conjunction with each other, I felt terrible.

“Listen youngest boy of mine. Your success is well documented. You are celebrated. They love you. They love your struggle. They love your story. But they will turn on you just as quick with things like this. Don’t become an ugly person Shawn. You are better than that. You don’t have to be friendly, friendly, buddy, buddy with Nas as a person. But as a man, I think he and his childs mother deserve an apology. A man would do that, Shawn. Remember that”.

I took in her words completely and they pierced. She told me she loved me, and when I hung up, the first person I thought about wasn’t Nas or Carmen. It was Beyonce. Maybe it was because I was ashamed of the way I had acted and didn’t want to face the music that night, but I decided to text her instead of call. There were a list of people my mother had convinced me to apologize to, but at the top of the list was Bee.

Sent 11:11 PM: U were right B. U were absolutely right. That isn’t me and I am sorry. I hope u can 4give me…but I understand if u dont…thank you for being a true friend and telling me bout myself. Good night

I wasn’t sleepy after napping for most of the day so I stood up to go work out in my gym. I took my phone with me just in case Bee decided to return my text. I hoped she would, it was pressing my thoughts as I punched the boxing bag. I punched and punched and got no return text. I tried not to think about it, but I kept finding myself walking over to my phone and checking to see if I had missed any calls or text. But each time I checked, nothing.

It was disheartening, maybe she really wasn’t going to forgive me. Shit, here I was doing it all over again. Running away a female because of the politics of this rap shit. I punched the bag as hard as I could, releasing my aggression. And then I gave it a flurry of combos, punching that shit like it was life itself. I punched Nas, and my dad, and Vida, and Snoopy, and the b*tches that set me up. I punched everybody, every demon from my past that was still haunting me. I felt the burn in my arms, excruciating heat from my muscles as I punched away, sweat flying in every which direction. I punched until I realized I was no longer punching the bag, I was on my knees punching the floor.

It was during this late 9th hour, in my most pathetic state, full of sweat, blood, and tears that my phone went off. My hands and fingers burned and my legs were weak, so I crawled over to my phone which was resting on a bench. When I reached the screen, my heart dropped. It was from Beyonce, but I had no idea what it would say. Would there be forgiveness or good riddance.

I used my jammed and swollen knuckles to lift open the phone so I could read her message.

Received 12:44 A.M: Shawn. I trust you. Remember that? I trust you. U spent so much time trying to get inside of my heart, dat u 4got to allow me inside of urs. Don’t let the rap stuff change who u are. goodnite

I went to sleep that night with a lighter heart, which made it much easier when I called into Hot 97 the next morning and apologized for the Super Ugly record.

January 18, 2002

I was getting a lot of flack for the Super Ugly record and for being a misogynist and things like that. Nas truly had turned the tides, I went from the dude who could do no wrong to the scape goat to hip hop’s problems. Nas had truly convinced everyone I was an egotistical maniac while he was a spiritual for the people rapper. And when New York voted for the King of New York on Hot 97, it was decided. Nas was the winner by a 52-48 percentage.

I had worked so hard at winning this crown and even though I had officially lost the battle, I found solace in knowing I hadn’t lost my sanity in the process. The war was still on as far as I was concerned, even if I had lost round one of the battle. But I wasn’t going to swear round 1. Life still went on, and I was still Hova.

Beyonce was coming over this day. We hadn’t seen each other in weeks and we both had sex on the brain. After that first taste of sex we experienced, we couldn’t get enough of each other. But it was difficult to feed that hunger since we both were pulled all around the country. So when we couldn’t be face to face, we found other ways to fan that fire, mostly through text. She only had to get a taste of the dick one time and the inner freak of her came the f*ck out. She still tried to hide it or front on it, but she wasn’t very good at it.

Received 4:22 AM: My flight arrives in just 3 hrs..yay

Sent 4:26 AM: n i will be in dat pussy in 3 hrs and 1 min lol

Received 4:27 AM: lol, u want it dat bad

Sent 4:30 AM: I want it baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad

Received 4:32 AM: trus me…i do 2

Sent 4:34 AM: How bad u want it

Received 4:36 AM: So bad, that i’m touching myself on da plane..wearing 1 of ur shirts too..da 1 from da hotel…smells jus like u

Sent 4:37 AM: get..da…fucc…outta here

Received 4:49 AM: im dead serious…i jus came…lol

Shit like that got me horny as hell and she was saying slick stuff like that often now. Why is it the so called innocent girls that are always the biggest freaks?

Sent 4:46 PM: Well save sum 4 me dammit

Received4:48 PM: O dont u worry bout dat, lol

And this was how many of our conversations went through text. With her coming in only a few hours to spend two days with me, we were planning to spend half of those 48 hours butt naked, doing God knows what. The text only added to the anticipation. But we were also excited to try some of the things she had never experienced before. We would chat about it on the low, usually late at night when no one was around but she was still sometimes shy to discuss oral sex and whip cream and stuff like that on the phone. She preferred  to text, it was when we true freak shined. So when we wanted to talk sex, it was usually through text.

These were the text from a week ago, where we discussed what we wanted to go down.

Received 4:33 PM: lol maybe we should jus go back to kissing nekkid

Sent 4:38 PM: Girl, don’t play with my emotions…i’d hav a heart attack doing dat again

Received 4:39 PM: Ya…i don’t think i culd go back 2 dat either…

Sent 4:41 PM: Wit da way u was cummin last time, i kno u cant

Received 4:42 PM: U have such a big ego smh

Sent 4:46 PM: Is my ego 2 big n 2 strong?

Received 4:48 PM: well, it is BIG…like damn…still feel like ima virgin wen u go n me

Sent 4:51 PM: U still r a virgin in a lot of ways…we got 2 change dat

Received 4:52 PM: I’m all ears :)

Sent 5:01 PM: Nah, u tell me ;)

Sent 5:54 PM: ?

Received 8:11 PM: Srry. i was in a meeting texin u…u bout to get me in trouble!

Sent 8:16 PM: Yea..yea…i’m still waitin for u to tell me what u wanna do next weekn

Received 8:17 PM: Hehe..i was hopn u wuld 4get

Received 8:19 PM: I wanna try everything really…head, 69, cowgirl, n mayb even anal…lol

Sent 8:22 PM: I got the sickest, evilest grin on my face rite now

Received 8:24 PM: Hehe…i bet cuz of da butt secks

Sent 8:26 PM: U kno me so well lmao

Received 8:28 PM: smh…well like i said…dat 1 is a maaaaaybe

We ended up talking about a few more things we had planned, such as f*cking in my backyard, recording it with a camera (and her erasing it right afterwards) and some other things, but I didn’t know much much we realistically were going to be able to do in 2 days. A man could only have so much sex, right?

I was about to find out. I met her at the airport wearing a one of those glasses and mustache disguises. It was completely ridiculous, but it worked like a charm. Her bodyguard escorted her to my rental and she hoped in the back. Her bodyguard was only told a few instructions. That she was going to spend a few days with a friend and for him to be on call at a moments notice. That was all he was privy to. She only had him come since it satisfied her parents.

I looked at the dude from the rear view mirror and I saw the smirk on his face. I was sure even he knew that Bee had come here to get her f*ck on. Beyonce and I had become pretty close over this time period, but we still hadn’t yet decided that we were a couple. To tell you the truth, I lost interest in trying to define us. I just enjoyed what we were for the moment, friends with a healthy sexual appetite for each other.

We had small talk in the car on the way to my crib, but we mostly listened to to the radio. The tension was strong and I liked it. We were both bracing ourselves for the weekend. It was a bit embarrassing for her, I could tell. Hard to carry on regular conversations when sex is all in the back of your head. And I couldn’t forget that she said she had masturbated on the plane. It was all comical, and extremely sexy.

“So, you ready for the weekend?” I smiled.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”.

We rode in silence as the radio played. I helped get her bags from the trunk and walked them inside. When we reached inside of my crib, I dropped them dead on the floor and she jumped in my arms. We didn’t kiss, we inhaled each others face. We ripped off the damn things that stood in our way, I think normal people called them clothes. But we weren’t normal people at this point, we were sex craved savages and these…clothes, were obstacles. We pushed them off like we were allergic to them and had sex on my floor at my front door.  Her long sleeve shirt was still on, but all of her bottom garments were off, but we didn’t have time to take off everything, we had to make up for lost time.

After our first session was over, we took everything off, socks included, and made our way over to my electric  fireplace for round 2. It was snowing outside, part of the reason I didn’t want her driving on the roads, which meant we would be spending the entire weekend inside, unless we went ahead with our crazy plan to f*ck outside in the snow.

So these next few days, we chilled around the place in the nude, f*cking whenever either one of us had that itch. Let’s just say we had more itches than we could scratch. Day 1 was the more traditional stuff, but by day 2, it was out of the box shit.

I ate her pussy from behind, swallowing every drop of juice that she offered to me, and she eventually sat on my face and attempted to give head for her first time. It was a mismatch, as she rode my face and barely even put the thing in her mouth. She was cumming in minutes while my dick waved in her face for some attention. She eventually did get the hang of giving me head, but she didn’t have much stamina. She was complaining about her jaw hurting after a few minutes.

When that happened, we just moved on to the next session. Like reverse cowgirl, doggystyle, froggy, and other sex positions named after animals. We went at it like rabbits, even going outside for a bit in the snow to make naked snow angels. That didn’t last but two minutes before our asses were back inside in front of the fire.

We were exhausted by the end of the second day, laying in bed at only 9 PM, on the verse of collapse. I felt as if I had ran the triathlon with my hands cuffed behind my back. I was dead tired, breathing hard as we lay in bed cuddling. I checked the condom box on the floor; we had went through an entire 12 pack in two days. I was sure that was some kind of Guinness world record. On the bright side, I got the workout of a century f*cking with this energizer bunny. She just kept going and going and going.

“Bee, I don’t think I can ever move again” I managed to say, breathing heavy after another session of sex.

She was breathing hard on my chest but smiling, “Yea….but…its one mo….thing…we gotta try”.

I wasn’t thinking clear, being so tired, so I couldn’t think of anything worth trying at this point. I wanted sleep.

“Bee, I am tired…we don’t even have anymore condoms” I said.

She kissed my chin, as our sweaty and salty bodies struggled for breath.

“I wanted to save the best for last” she whispered.

She grunted as she rolled out of bed and made her way over to her bag on the floor. She keeled down and rumbled through her belongings before pulling out something. It was dark so I couldn’t see what it was. That was until she returned to the bed with a bottle of lubricant.

I laughed, “Beyonce Knowles. Beyonce Giselle Knowles. You can’t be serious”.

She laughed too, “What? Is this the wrong kind or something?”

“I was just joking about the whole anal thing. Do you really want to try it? Like for real?” I asked

“I told you this weekend I wanted to try everything. Especially since I won’t see you for a few months because of the tour. But if you don’t want to-”

“Nah it’s not that I don’t want to. I just want to know if you are sure about that. You said you wasn’t gonna do that until you had a ring on it”.

“Shawn, I said that about a lot of things” she laughed.

“But this was one thing I thought you was serious about” I laughed back.

She rolled her eyes, “Well fine then. Just forget it”.

I stopped her, “No. If you want to try it for real then let’s go”.

We engaged in a small bit of banter until she was on her knees, letting me apply the lubrication to her backside. Before she came to my crib, we both had gotten STD tests to present to each other. She had recently done charity and awareness project for HIV and she was now paranoid about catching anything. I was cool with it, I respected her decision. I ended up faxing my test results over to her a few days before she came. I didn’t actually bother to read hers until after we had f*cked a few times. It kind of defeated the purpose, but what can I say, I trusted her.

Even still, because she wasn’t on birth control, we used condoms. But with this anal experience we decided one wouldn’t be needed. This was a huge sign of trust in my eyes, for her to offer this part of herself to me. I didn’t know what to expect, but I expected more than 10 seconds of screaming.

“OUCH. Take it OUT” she screamed, before I even had a chance for it to settle in her butt.

I pulled it out quick, which caused her to scream even harder. She punched me for yanking it too fast and had tears in her eyes and she cursed and ranted about never trying it ever again. It was hilarious.

“Bee, calm down. It couldn’t have been that bad. It was 10 seconds”.

“Jay. Oh my God. I think I just saw JESUS in those 10 seconds. Oh my. Never again in my entire life. I don’t even think I ever want to poop again”.

I laughed about that one for the rest of our time together. But it marked the last time I’d have sex with her for a long time. We kissed, embraced, hugged, and she even shed a tear when it was time to leave. She was such an emotional person. She had cried at least five times during the trip as we had sex, but these tears were different.

“I’ll seen you soon enough” I encouraged.

She kissed me hard and I wiped her eyes.

“Call me, often” she pouted.

“I will, beautiful”.

What a weekend that was. A action packed weekend full of fun with a close friend. I didn’t realize it would be the last of it’s kind.

January 23, 2002

Ty Ty and I were going to the Nets and Wizards game to see Jordan play, back from his retirement. I had been so busy with my career and then my flings with women that I hadn’t had a chance to chill with my friends. I made it my business to get front row seats for the game. Our driver picked up a few ladies and then we picked up Ty from his crib. Although Beyonce and I were kicking it, she had made it known that she still hadn’t decided yet on if we would pursue a relationship, at least a monogamous and committed one. Because of it, I didn’t hesitate to keep messing with other women. Tonight would be no different, even if it was less than a week after my sexcapades with Bee.

One one the shorties was a latin model, the other was a dark skinned aspiring actress. I had dibs on the model, and Ty had his hands all over the other chick. Still, there was something about him this night that seemed off. He seemed to be bothered by something.

We only rode a few blocks and had a few drinks before he was tapping me on the arm.

“Yo, I gotta tell you something when we get a moment” he said.

I could tell by his tone that it was serious. I ended up directing my driver to the gas station and told the ladies to go get us some snacks. When they were out of the car, I gave him my undivided attention.

“Wassup?”

“I heard some shit a few weeks ago. And I had to check with a few niggas before I could confirm it. I had to make sure before I told you” he said uneasily.

“Wassup? I asked again.

“Aight, I know you like her and all. But you might want to fall back with your girl”

“Who?” I asked.

“B” he responded.

“Beyonce?”

“Yeah. With this Nas shit still going on and no one knowing the the war is done with yet. You might just wanna fall back with her. I was told by two different niggas that I trust, that Nas hit it a few years back. Apparently, Steve Stoute told Nas that you was messing with her. I don’t know how Stoute could have found out but that’s the word. They saying he is laughing about it and has known about it for months. Nas that is”.

I heard Ty talking, but his words weren’t making sense to me. I couldn’t comprehend the meaning, or conceptualize there being any truth to the shit. B? F*cking Nas? It didn’t even seem plausible. She would have told me by now.

“You sure Ty?”

“Jay you know me man. I wouldn’t even tell you unless I thought there was some truth to it. I mean, if you really like her then do your thing. I’m just letting you know what I’ve been hearing. Better to know then be caught off guard by the man dissing you for it or something. He already saying you want to be him”.

The girls were making their way back to the car. I nodded at Ty and without another word, took a sip of my drink. The girls got back in the car, and we went to the game. My head wasn’t focused on any of it. Even when I went to the crib to f*ck the chick, my mind was elsewhere. My mind was on Bee and if she had f*cked this man and not told me about it.

The thoughts angered me and fueled me as I smashed the chick. I was hitting her from the back, slamming my pelvis into her. My d*ck was carving up her guts, but it wasn’t the sex I was after, it was releasing my anger. I thought about Bee the entire time, her face, her smell, her pussy, and then I thought about Nas. Smirking, smiling, grinning, smashing her and then discarding her like yesterdays news. And then me coming behind him and trying to wife it.

It made me want to throw up. And I came right at the moment the upchuck gathered in my throat. I kicked the girl out of my crib shortly after and sat and thought. As much as I wanted to rationalize that Ty had to be wrong, my mind wouldn’t allow for me to believe it. Things started adding up to me in ways they never had before.

Beyonce told me she had drunken, casual sex with a few people after she became famous.

Beyonce was in one of Nas’s videos back in 99. She was all up in the niggas video.

Beyonce had said Nas was one of her favorite rappers.

Beyonce had defended Nas after I made Super Ugly.

Beyonce came to the same hotel Steve Soute saw me at.

It was all adding up. And Ty was my most loyal friend, he wouldn’t lie about some shit like this. If he told me, then obviously he trusted his information. It made too much damn sense. Nas was the motherf*cker than had hit it and quit it, he was the culprit. And her ass failed to mention this to me. She flat out left that information out. How could she? She knew I had beef with the man. She knew my livelihood was on the line. And she still kept this pertinent information from me?

She was a liar, by omitting this kind of shit, she was a liar in my book. A goddamn liar. I couldn’t believe I put my trust in such a woman. I didn’t know her, I didn’t know her past, or who she was past her pretty smile. She had been proving me wrong on all of my preconceptions at every turn, why was I so blind to it? I was such a calculated and guarded man growing up; how could I get caught slipping like this?

If she couldn’t tell me something like that, then she wasn’t someone I could trust. I couldn’t trust her, no more. And if I couldn’t trust her, then I couldn’t love her. So whatever I had been feeling the past few months wasn’t anything real or anything to build on. It was all based on an incredulous lie. These were my thoughts as I lay in bed, angry at Beyonce for not being the woman I so wanted her to be. Not being good enough.

I was so sure I could grow to love her and I already knew there were things about her that I did love, but I hated that she was lacking a fundamental characteristic that I needed in her for me to love her; honesty. After all of the secrets, and venting, and mind blowing sex, and conversations, it all fell apart just as quickly as I found out she could keep a secret like that from me. She owed it to me to tell me. If she respected my career at all, she would have told me.

But that was my fault, for entertaining a damn 20 year old with no dating history. She was double minded, and there was nothing dependable about a double minded person. I went to sleep angry, tossing and turning as I tried to purge her from my thoughts. Still, the thought lingered that maybe there was still hope. Maybe Ty was wrong and his sources were wrong and I was wrong. Maybe Beyonce was who I envisioned her to be. But after all of the hurt and pain i had experienced over my life because of women, I decided I wouldn’t invest anything in her until I knew for sure.

I knew that Nas was a pretty scientific dude in the way he went about his business. He was not as smart as he thought he was, but he was definitely invested into the art of delivery. I knew that if he had f*cked her and was planning to mock my pending relationship with her, I knew he would have documented it. I knew it would be somewhere in his music as a subliminal.

The next day, I bought his last four albums and decided to listen to them from front to back to see if I caught any hint or reference to him f*cking r&b chicks, Beyonce, or one of my girls. He was the so called King of this subliminal shit, so if it had occurred, I would find it.

I bought Stillmatic, Nastradamus, QB’s Finest, and I Am and the clerk found it hilarious to see Jay-Z buying Nas albums.

“Damn, Jigga? WHy all the Nas albums” he smiled.

“Research, fam” I smirked.

“Come back at em, Jay. Rep from BK” he said.

I gave him dap and made my way home. I wasn’t concerned about the battle, I was concerned about this dude f*cking Bee and then her not telling me about it. I ran through the albums, smoking weed and closely listening to the lyrics.

I bought a DVD of the You Owe Me video and I analyzed it for any possible signs of a relationship.

It was frustrating looking for one reference in the man’s music, like looking for a a particular needle in a tub of needles. After four hours, I was listening to his Stillmatic record, the joint that has just come out a month ago. I had heard the album already so I didn’t feel any need to go back through it but there was something telling me to anyway. I hit the blunt, and started from track one, analyzing the lyrics bar by bar. I got to the 5th track and I finally found something. Maybe this was it. The reference that I had been searching for.

The track was called You’re Da Man and clearly was a diss song to me even though he never mentioned my name. And midway through the first verse, he uttered a line that I would end up rewinding a few dozen times.

Now you want to hang with niggas I hung with, f*ck b*tches I hit

I re-winded it.

Now you want to hang with niggas I hung with, f*ck b*tches I hit

I re-winded it again.

Now you want to hang with niggas I hung with, f*ck b*tches I hit

This was it. This HAD to be it. I mean, what other chick could he be referencing? I sat down and thought long and hard about any chicks that i messed with that I knew Nas messed with. Could he be talking about Carmen? I doubted it, Nas was too smart for such a shallow subliminal. And he wouldn’t refer to his childs mother as someone he hit. Nah, he was talking about something else, a chick he hit and quit.

Could he be talking about Foxy? But I never messed with Foxy like that. It wasn’t making any sense. The only thing that did make sense was Nas making a classic chess move. I knew if, a likely if as far I was concerned. But if he did mess with her, then he could pull that card at any time when it became public that I was dating her.

But even worse than that, was the fact that if this was true, Beyonce had withheld the information from me and I could never look past that. That was one sin that could not be forgiven.

I hit the blunt again and thought that maybe I was over-analyzing this. Maybe Nas didn’t know and didn’t give a damn about who I was f*cking. Maybe the weed was contributing to my paranoia and I was tripping. Maybe I should sleep on it again. Or maybe, I had to investigate this shit for myself. Maybe I couldn’t depend on records and subliminals.

I wasn’t going to ask Beyonce, I had too much pride for that. But there was one person I could ask. I ignored and dodged all of Beyonces calls and texts and instead called Carmen, looking to set up a date. She was expectantly heated when she heard from me but as I also suspected, she was glad to hear from me.

“How have things been with you?” I asked.

“Terrible, no thanks to you. I still can’t understand how you put my business out on front street like that. I mean, how childish can you be?” she asked.

“Carm. I apologize. I was wrong. I was in the heat of the moment and I did the wrong thing. I accept full blame for that. You didn’t deserve it”.

I was saying exactly what I thought she would want to hear. She had already proved to be too easy. And even after my exposure of her, it was still too easy. Part of me felt like she enjoyed the drama. Maybe she was a masochist.

“Anyway Shawn. What do you want?”

“To see you. Make it up to you. Dinner. No strings attached”

“Does it look like I was born yesterday?” she barked.

I contained my laughter.

“For real Carm. I just want to go on a date. No strings attached. I promise”.

“And how do I know this has nothing to do with Nas?”

“Carm. New York already decided that I lost, especially after pulling you in the diss. I’m still getting negative press for that move. Why would I go to the same well twice?” I rationalized.

She took in my words and ran them through her brains processor. Smart girls could find bullshit in any statements, especially situations too good to be true. Dumb ones fell for anything that sounded pleasant to the ears. When Carmen accepted my date, I knew which category she fell in.

We met up in L.A. for a brunch. I wasn’t too hungry, but I ordered just so she could feel comfortable, as if this was really a date. This entire setup was all based on the premise that I’d find a way to bring up Beyonce and see if she knew anything about Nas sleeping with her. I’d play my cards until I found an opening to bring her up. Hopefully, she’d volunteer this information since she loved talking about herself so much.

“So what about that book?” I asked her, remembering the time she told me she would eventually write a book about her life.

She laughed, “You know. The shit with you and Nas will probably help sell me a lot of books. So maybe I can thank you for something”.

“Well if you do end up writing about me. Please don’t make my character be a lame. Make me true to life” I grinned.

“But you are lame” she grinned right on back.

We shared a small laugh together, just what I was looking for.

We ate a bit and resumed our chit chat. Nothing with much substance, but enough to break down some ice. When her plate was nearly clean, she revealed some things that had been bothering her.

“Shawn, you really hurt my feelings when you made that song. Like, i always thought we were buddies. And then you just made that song about me. Like I was just a piece of meat. Now I’m not naive. I know a part of you wanted to use me in your beef with Nas, but is all we had based on that one thing?”

“Come on Carm. Be real. You think the entire thing was some intricate plot, so I could get at Nas? You’re right, I used it as ammo when the opportunity presented itself. But you should know I couldn’t fake those great conversations we had”.

She smiled at this, a pretty smile I had to admit. I really didn’t want to use this woman as a pawn yet again. But all was fair in love and war, right? If anything, she was the one that was insane. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. She should have known not to trust me. We ended up at a hotel, having sex, after all of the negative things I had said about her. What little respect I had for her went out the window. How could she sleep with the man that talked greasy about her child on a record for the world to hear? I mean, what type of desperate woman would do this?

I was disgusted with myself and her as I lay in bed with her. But since I hadn’t gotten what I wanted out of her, I engaged in pillow talk.

“You ever see yourself settling down?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that same question” I joked.

“I do, eventually. But I’m asking you”.

“Carm, I plan to eventually. When I find that right one, you know? Who knows, maybe I have already found her though” I smiled.

“Such a damn sweet talker. I bet it works on all of the ladies, right?” she asked.

I laughed, “It works enough”.

I had to find a way to get this conversation moving forward, being subtle wasn’t working.

“So honestly, how are you and Nas?”

“It’s an ongoing thing with him honestly. We’re never together, but we’re never apart. At least not for long. It’s just the way things are with him. I don’t know if it will ever change”.

“That sounds unhealthy as hell” I said.

“It is. Very toxic. But hey, I’m use to toxic relationships. I mean, that is what this is right?”

Damn, that was a level of honesty that I could appreciate, even in Carm.

“I don’t know how you stayed with him so long through. After all the cheating he did on you” I said, setting the trap.

“Well. A child changes things. You tend to put up with more”.

“But it has to be hard when he is messing with all kinds of celebs as well as normal chicks, right? Like double the heartache”.

“Celeb or not. It’s the same thing to me. But yeah, he did have his share of celebs”.

“Anyone I know?”

She looked at me with a puzzled look. Damn, maybe I was pressing too hard. I had to fall back.

“Well Nas is real secretive. There were alot of rumors about him and people like Foxy. But I know he was with Foxy and Mary J. He’s denied a few before, like Eve, La La, and Beyonce from Destiny’s Child”.

This was it, the goddamn shit I was waiting for.

I forced a laugh, “Wait, he f*cked Beyonce?”

She laughed, “I found her number in his pants one time. And I heard some rumors, but he denied em. Said she had stank breath”.

I didn’t know how to take her words. Was this a good sign or a bad sign?

“Nas is a liar though. So I don’t know what to believe regarding him. You guys are liars in general though. I think it’s in your DNA”.

I could have continued the banter with her, but I had what I wanted. I pretended to be late for a meeting, and bounced from the hotel right after. I left feeling even more uncertain. So at one point, she gave her number to Nas. What girl gives her number to a dude if she isn’t interested? This has to be the final piece to the puzzle. The final clue that told me what I needed to know.

She and Nas had some history. That history may or may not have included sex, but her reluctance to tell me this in the midst of my issues with the man made me resent her regardless. She called me repeatedly over the next few weeks and sent countless text that I never responded to. I had to cut the girl off, I couldn’t have her in my inner circle.

She continued calling without fail, and it seemed as if the more I ignored her, the more calls I got. After about a month of this she started leaving pretty detailed voice messages. After one particularly pathetic message about her not understanding what she did wrong, I decided to call her back. I missed hearing the girls voice and hearing it sound so sad and defeated on my voice mail brought up a drop of sympathy. Still, I had to let her know things weren’t going to work out.

She answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” she said in a low tone.

“Hey” I dryly responded.

“Where have you been the past month? You couldn’t call or even text me once?”

“I’m sorry about that. Just been busy. Been a busy month”.

“Bullshit Shawn. I saw you on TV at basketball games and shit like that. Why are you lying to me?” she barked.

This was the angriest I had ever heard her. I never heard this type of pain in her voice before. It was more than pain though, it was raw anger.

“Look Bee. Just some shit came up that I had to give my undivided attention to”.

“And you couldn’t even tell me that? I didn’t ask for much Shawn. Just a f*cking phone call or even a text that said ‘hey bee, im busy, i need some time apart’ or whatever the hell you had to say. Don’t just ignore my calls like that”.

And here she was, sounding like she was my damn woman.

“Bee, stop nagging, aight? I had some shit to take care of and I didn’t have the time to be worried about anything else”.

She remained silent as she took this in.

“Ok. I am really attempting to stay calm. I really am. So I will ask you this very simple question. What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong for you to just…not worry about anything else, or in other words not worry about me?”

I laughed at her question, remembering what she did wrong. I just didn’t want to tell her. As sick and twisted as it sounded, I got a sense of joy hearing her sound so defeated. It was how I felt when Ty told me what he told me. It was how I felt when Vida cheated, when Jazmine left me, when Fannie left me. It was that lonely and piercing feeling that I felt for the majority of my life. And I got pleasure from it, inflicting it on someone else. Maybe that was who i really was. Maybe I wasn’t built to love someone. Maybe I could only inflict pain on others. Maybe that was who Shawn Carter really was. Maybe that other guy I wanted to be, I strived to be, was the fictitious character.

“You did nothing wrong. You’re just not what I am looking for, aight?”

My heart dropped when I told her this, it just sort of came out. Maybe it was my subconscious desire to hear her cry, but I said the most damaging thing I could think of. And I heard nothing from the other end. That was the sound of a broken heart.

“So. You f*ck me. Get what you want from me, and then i’m not what you are looking for?”

“Bee. It’s not like we are a couple or anything. We had fun…some good sex…and that was that… I tried for months to be with you but you didn’t want that-”

She interrupted, “Who said I didn’t want that Shawn? You said you understood why I needed time. Me needing time didn’t mean I didn’t want you or us”

“Well I couldn’t tell” I said non-nonchalantly.

If passion in our tones could be measured numerically, mine was at a 1, hers was at a 8 and rising. It both deflated and inflated my heart to hear her like this.

“I seriously can’t believe you right now. So after everything. It’s just over? Even our friendship?”

“Is that what you call friendship? 6 months of dry humping and dirty text and then 2 months of sex?”

“How about all the f*cking times I cried on your shoulder and you encouraged me? All the talks we had? All the secrets we shared? Or does that not count for friendship?”

“Apparently, not all of the important secrets were shared” I said.

I could tell that she was crying now. I heard it in her voice.

“Shawn, what are you talking about?”

I laughed, “Don’t worry about it. I just don’t think we are very compatible. You’re young and have a lot of living to do. I’m older and looking to settle down. We have two different backgrounds and you are ashamed of me cuz of your people. It’s just not a good mix” I said.

“It’s amazing that you come to this conclusion after that weekend at your crib. I refuse to believe that is a coincidence so tell me. Tell me Shawn. So maybe I can know for the next guy. What did I do wrong? What? I didn’t suck dick good enough? Didn’t ride nice dick like you like it? Huh Big Pimping? Did my pussy stank? What? What did I do? You got bored me f*cking me? Is it cuz my asshole couldn’t stretch wide enough? What is it? Why am I all of a sudden not good enough for even friendship?”

The tears were now in my eyes hearing her run through these list of things that were nowhere near the problem. I shook my head quick and blinked the tears away. I had to be strong and end this damn phone call. I refused to be hurt again by dealing with someone I couldn’t trust.

“Just let it go Bee. I’m sorry for leading you on. But, this friendship thing just isn’t healthy for either of us. You need a real friend, not someone who just wants to be your friend because you have a nice body and a pretty face”.

“F*ck…YOU!” she screamed, before hanging up in my face.

The words echoed in my head, long after she hung up. Although I had attempted to break her spirit by breaking things off for good, I felt as if I had broken mine as well. How come everything I touched, became broken?

March, 2002

I received a string of text messages, one after the other in such succession that my phone vibrated for a minute straight. When I checked, they were all from Beyonce. She had a lot on her mind.

Received 1:11 AM: i have thought long and hard about what to say to u, shawn. my heart is broken into a 1001 pieces after our last convo. i thought i knew u and a part of me still feels like i do…but i cant help but wonder

Received 1:11 AM: where i went wrong. your friendship was da best thing dat has ever happened to me. i never had a friendship that felt so real and authentic and beautiful. u made me see things about myself dat i couldn’t from a mirror. u were my mirror

Received 1:11 AM: and over da past year i fell in love with u. I know in my heart, I did. i thought i loved lyndell, but dat was puppy luv. i have never loved anyone da way dat i love u, shawn carter. and im crying my eyes out as i type dis

Received 1:11 AM: becuz i dont know if u feel da same….i feel like a fool…like im unapreciated…like a foolish little girl…reaching 4 something she can never have….and it kills me….becuz part of me feels dat it is my fault

Received 1:11 AM: maybe if i would have been more decisive or clear about wat i wanted, den maybe i wouldnt have lost u as a friend. i can learn 2 live with u  not wanting to be with me….but i cant fathom y u wouldn’t want to at the least be my friend…we had good times…i made u smile…genuinely smile…and u throw this away…so easily? y?

Received 1:11 AM:  it makes me really feel as if i am in the wrong….dat its my fault….and if it is…shawn, i apologize 4 watever i did or have done….i am sorry…from da bottom of my broken heart…i am truly sorry…i dont kno wat else to say….i have so much to say but i dont even know if u are willing to hear me out…

Received 1:11 AM: i have no more tears to give…i have no more sorrys to give…all i have is my heart and my love….and my friendship….and i give it to u…..if only u give da same to me…

Received 1:11 AM: i started seeing a doctor this month….for my depression…and i realized that the most happy i have felt in the past 10 years…has been since i met u…u have been my halo…through all of the walls i built…and all of my immaturity and mistakes…u kept me alive..and sane…

Received 1:11 AM: u accepted me for me…and we had such innocent fun together….dis was way before the sex….i never felt more alive den why we would spend hours…just talkin on da phone about nothing…its those moments i miss the most…even more den the incredible, god awesome, heavenly sex…

Received 1:11 AM: and speakin of that….shawn i gave myself to u unlike i have ever given myself 2 a person b4…i gave u my mind, body, soul, spirit…evetrything….u may not hav been my first in penetration….but U are the first and only person i ever made love to….with all of my being…..i put my all into loving u…even wen i didn’t have much to give to loving myself….and i refuse…refuse…refuse to believe that dis was all about sex 2 u

Received 1:11 AM: i love u…idk if u can understand why…but i do. i am in love with u…and i am not ashamed of it anymore…i dont care who knows…I LOVE YOU!…..I…beyonce giselle knowles love u wit ALL of my heart…shawn carter…..but please, dont be afraid or ashamed to love me back….i know there is something there….i felt it the times we kissed and u held me….i know it…

Received 1:11 AM: that is why i am reaching out to u…1 last time…1 final time…to save us…i’ve done all i can to please u….but i will let go…dats how much i love u…so much that I will let u go….let u go find da 1 dat makes u happy…..if im not da 1 dat moves u then i want u 2 find her…

Received 1:11 AM: as much as i want to wait for u to return to me….i have to love myself more than i love u….i will give u till tmorrow nite 2 respond to me….if u dont…i am changing my number and deleting u from my contacts…i cant go through dis anymore…stressing over u…wondering about wat u think of me…wondering what i did wrong…n why im not gud enuff

Received 1:11 AM: i hate feeling and being a broken person…so lost…and not appreciative of my beauty…my inner beauty. im sorrounded by friends and family…but i feel lonely…u have been da only 1 to be that light in such a dark place…but without it…i feel lower than i felt before…n i hate it…i hate myself for falling for it…and i’m starting to hate u 4 taking it away from me with no explanation…

Received 1:12 AM: i pray u reach out to me before 2morrow nite…and i know u mite have a meeting or something…but if i am important enuff…u will find da time…….but if not…well then…nice knowing u….i wont forget u…and thanks for making a fool out of me….u once said nothing was wrong wit being crazy in love….but maybe u were wrong about dat 1….Bey

I read her text over and over and over and over again that early morning. Now I just had to decide if I would respond to her. That was the question.

March 2002The steady rise of my heart rate matched the rise in contempt in my voice as I stared at Beyonce. I was angry, but deeper than that I was hurt. I was hurt that she hadn’t told me about her fling with one of my foes. Not only that, but it seems I wasn’t the first or only New York rapper she had been involved with. I felt like my presence in her life was diluted because of it. Maybe she really did just have a thing for bad boy New Yorkers, and I was one in a list. If she was hiding Nas, who else was she hiding?What if there were others? People I had worked with? People that I didn’t like? People that I didlike? I felt the foundations of my security in Bey crumbling as she looked on, bewildered. I had strong feelings for her, so even having her in my face at my crib like this was tempting. But the insecurity in my mind was even stronger and this is where the shit was going to hit the fan.”So be honest with me Bee. Have you f*cked anybody in the industry?” I beamed.She looked hard at me but didn’t say a word. I could see the thoughts racing through her head, her eyes were a window to this whirlwind of emotions and mind games.”Why does it matter, Jay?” she asked timidly.

“Why does it matter? Why do you think? Just answer the damn question” I barked.

She backed up from where she stood and her eyes danced in their sockets. Her silence and reluctance to speak was speaking the real to me. But I had to hear her say it, so completely jar me from this nightmare of a situation.

“Well?” I said.

“Yes” she responded harshly.

“Yes what?”

“I had sex with someone.”

“Who?”

“Jay, I really don’t want to talk about this. It’s in my past” she muttered.

I wasn’t hearing any of it. Her pending breakdown would completely free me from this pain of wanting her. I needed to hear her say it, so I could be free of this prison. This insecure place that I lived for my entire life.

“Who Bee? I’m not asking you again” I yelled.

“NAS!” she screamed at me, her voice cracking under pressure before falling to the ground with her hands over her face.

The weeping soon followed. But I wasn’t going to let her wallow in her own pity. I was going to make this a humiliating, draining and slut shaming experience. I wanted her to feel half the pain I was feeling inside. I hated her.

“Nas huh? And I guess you just failed to mention it to me, right?”

“Jay. It was years ago. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to come between us”.

“You sucked his dick?” I asked, ignoring her apology.

The look on her face told the story. My eyes talked her out of any lie she was planning.

“Yes” she whispered out of shame.

Hell, at least she was finally being honest.

“And what else have you lied to me about?”

“Jay, I am sorry. I don’t know how I can make this up to you. I am sorry. I should have told you” she said.

“I don’t want to hear you apologize. I want to hear you tell me the damn truth. I can’t believe you. You are a ho…..a  f*cking  wh0re. Can’t keep your legs closed. I guess any rapper that tries you can hit it huh?”

“No, Jay” she sobbed.

“Shut up you stupid b*tch. I hate you. I hate you. I could never love a ho  like you” I said with tears in my eyes.

She reached for me but I stepped back. I didn’t want to touch her, wanted nothing to do with her. But as she cried and pleaded for me, I realized I did want something from her. I wanted her dignity gone; all of it. I slowly walked over to her, she was sitting on her knees, staring up to me with eyes full of blood filled tears.

“Jay…I’m sorr-”

Before she could get the words out of her mouth, she was met with a fist. She sprawled backwards on the floor, cuffing her eye. She fell with a deadly thud and agonizing scream. But we were secluded, in my home, away from any neighbors. No one would be able to hear her scream. No one.

I stomped on her, kicked her in the stomach, and cursed. I stomped her until I heard cracks in her body, broken jaws and broken fingernails from her scratching my hard floors. When I felt satisfied in this I spat in her broken face. Her face was broken, shattered like glass. I didn’t recognize her anymore, she was a bloody, broken, mutated image of Beyonce. I was shocked. How could I do this to her? Beat her until she was unrecognizable?

Still, my assault went on, I punched her in the face until my own fist were battered and bruised. She laid on the floor, still and out of it. I thought I had murdered her in my rage, I thought she was dead. But she wasn’t dead, in fact the corpse like body of Beyonce started shaking. I thought she was having a seizure until I heard a chuckle erupt from her mangled face. The chuckling continued until it was a laugh, a horrible laugh coming from her.

“Is that all you got?” she said in a voice that was a cross between hers and Nas.

I ran over to her and kicked, but all she did was continue to laugh. I bent over to punch her but she grabbed me with her legs and pulled me in to her. Without hesitation, her bloody and now sharpened nails began scratching at my skin. I struggled to free myself but she was overpowering me, still laughing a demonic laugh.

Before I could realize it, my pants were ripped open and she had managed to insert my dick into her pussy. I looked down in shock seeing my body thrusting into hers. I looked back at her face and was shocked that her face was no longer battered. It was a perfect image of her. Sexy, beautiful, bright, but with a smile so sick, I felt like vomiting.

Still, I kept thrusting as I stared into her eyes. Her grin was evil which angered me. I grabbed her throat with my hands to choke the grin out of her. She gasped for air and blood started dripping from her eyes. Still I kept thrusting, feeling myself coming close to orgasm.

I thrust and choke and when my climax was near, I heard the TV turn on in my living room. On the TV, was Nas. It was his music video for the single Got Yourself a Gun. I turned around to see the TV and became even more enraged.

Still I kept thrusting, turning back around until I saw that Beyonce had been replaced by Jasmine, a youthful middle school version of her with a pregnant belly. Still, I kept thrusting. Her face and body eventually morphed into Cassidy, tears streaming down her face. Still, I kept thrusting.

I squeezed her neck until she became Tracy.

“Why did you do this to me?” she managed to get out.

I squeezed her neck until my fingers burned with pain. She gagged and I kept thrusting. Her face eventually turned into Fannie and then to Annie and then to Mickey, and finally stopping at my mom. My thrusting was over, as I bust a nut inside of my own mother, chocking her with all of my might. I screamed out in horror and cried, feeling the ground trembling.

My eyes opened abruptly to a pitch black room. I immediately looked to my right and saw my alarm clock sitting on the night stand. It was 3 in the morning, and I was sweating profusely even though my air condition was kicked down to 68 degrees. I breathed hard, catching my breath and trying to comprehend the nightmare I had just had. I thought about Beyonce and the text she had sent me just a few hours ago.

I had decided to sleep on it instead of texting her right back and see what my conscious would tell me. After the hellish dream of my tearing down and then raping her, I didn’t know what the hell my conscious was saying. I felt afraid and alone, fearful of going back to sleep and seeing her in my dreams again.

I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. This was something I had never quite experienced before and it was driving me crazy. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t confront this demon of mine. I couldn’t look Beyonce in her eyes and tell her about my past, my nightmares, my hate, and resentment. I couldn’t tell her that the entire reason I gave up on her had nothing to do with Nas, but everything to do with me. I used it as an excuse to escape the possibility of being hurt. I allowed that to serve as a reason not to love. I was a coward. But I couldn’t tell her that.

I decided I would not text her back and I’d let her delete me out of her life. Or better yet, I was deleting her from my life. She was doing too much to me. I had bought some of the lotion that I used on her that night at the hotel just so I could reminisce. The smell of her skin marinated in that $200 bottle of lotion was intoxicating. I’d open the bottle and take a sniff as if I was taking a hit of coke. And when it hit my system, I blacked out, under the influence of thought. Thoughts of her naked body rubbed up against mine. The thoughts of her warm breath softly touching my face.

Thoughts of her voice in my head. Thoughts of her kinky ass being passive aggressive about sexual topics, wanting me to chauffeur her around the realms of sexual discovery. Thoughts of her naive questions and immature behavior, like when she would playfully recite lines from a movie. Thoughts of her making me laugh even when I didn’t want to. These thoughts were inside of that bottle.

I missed her, more than I ever wanted to admit. She was a drug. A drug I had to quit before I became addicted and consumed. I threw away the bottle, deleted her number from my phone, and threw out her panties that she had left at my crib, accidentally on purpose and went back to bed. I dreamed about nothing in particular, hopefully freed from the infatuation I had with this woman. It was over.

April 2002

I begin working on my next album which I was going to release later in the year. I achieved a milestone with my last, which was a certified Classic album by the Source and many Hip Hop fans. The battle with Nas was far from over as far as I was concerned; people were still discussing it ad nauseum, but the records between us had stopped temporarily. Instead, I took a step back so I could take two going forward. I wanted to observe the aftermath and learn from what had happened.

I went into the battle overconfident, and too dependent on the win I had over him because of Carmen. But with everything came to light, Hip Hop fans were more interested in the lyrical prowess. Or maybe, people just wanted to see my downfall. Nas was the underdog, I was the biggest star in rap. So maybe my success was why people sided with him, wanting to finally see Tyson knocked out. As much as people loved Jordan was as much as they hated him when he was in his prime. He was a confident, brash, superior player. And people prayed and hoped and wished for him to lose. Maybe my claiming that I would not lose was why I had lost.

These thoughts gave me inspiration for my newest album, which would be a continuation of my Classic album The Blueprint. This time around I would call it the Blueprint 2: The Gift and the Curse. I got Kanye and Just Blaze back on the boards but also reached out to numerous artist from Lennie Kravitz to Rakim to Pharell.

I had so much material, I decided to make the album a double album, a first for my career. Recording for it was swift and business like, but for kicks and giggles I even recorded a song and mentioned Beyonce in it. I wondered if she would hear it and what she’d think.

I heard through the grape vine that she was doing well. She was cast and shot for a Austin Powers movie that was about to be released and had decided to pursue her solo career. I felt like I had a part in that, but I tried not to take too much credit. I knew she was a determined and ambitious woman; all I need was offer some encouragement.

I helped to rid my thoughts of her by f*cking as many women as I could, from models to groupies of all ethnicites and nationalities.  I think Ty Ty noticed it after a while; he knew I was a private dude and didn’t talk much about my relationship status, but I knew he was wondering what happened with me and Bee. I decided he was one person I could tell.

“You cut her off?”

“Yep” I said truthfully.

“Damn. I hate that I had to drop that shit on you. She seemed like a nice girl.”

“She is a nice girl Ty. But I can’t have that shit on my thoughts. Shit ain’t worth it.”

“Word,” he laughed.

“The hell you laughing at?” I said.

“Fam, I can’t even lie. I thought you would be too far gone to cut her off. She had you open for a minute” he grinned.

“Sheit”.

“Nah for real Jay” he said, “You stayed texting the girl and everything. I ain’t never seen you so much on that phone in my life”.

“Who said I was only texting her?” I asked.

“You ain’t gotta say it. I know it” he said.

We both shared a laugh.

“Well. It is what it is. But no woman is worth the problems” I sighed.

“Not even Thee Beyonce Knowles?” he questioned.

“Not even Beyonce” I followed.

We took sips of our drinks and stepped inside of the strip club.

April 14, 2002

I spent the day with my nephews over at my mothers crib until Mickey picked them up. It was a good time to get away from it all and just relax with my family, who I didn’t see as often as I would have liked. My Mom and grandma were there for this Sunday afternoon, cooking and gossiping like black women loved to do. I loved being around them, hell I was raised mostly by women, so it felt natural. I listened to them chat and talk about the residential news, like who was being evicted and whose husband creeping.

I laughed, “Damn, yall about as bad as them gossip papers.”

“Oh boy please. We are not gossiping, we are talking about how bad Leroy has been doing Shirley”.

“Ma, you don’t know anything but what you see. Maybe she out doing him foul too” I said.

“I’m going by the facts Shawn. That man is no good” she replied.

“And what about the dude who being evicted? Why yall up in his business” I pressed.

My grandma answered, “He had a racist landlord. He ain’t want him there anyway.”

“I’ve dealt with that grandma. Tried to get a condo in Florida, but the lady wasn’t having it. This was a few years ago”.

“And why wouldn’t they want a successful black man in there?” she asked.

“Grandma, you know the answer to that. I told her ass I was going to go get Al Sharpton” I laughed.

Both women laughed along with me, before my grandma asked me to taste some of the pudding they were making. It was just like I liked it.

As I licked the spoon clean, my mother looked at me and frowned up her face.

“31 and still licking that spoon clean” she shook her head.

“Never too old for that” I grinned.

“Yeah. But I know something you are too old for” my grandma said.

I looked over at her, and raised my eyebrow sarcastically, “And what’s that grandma?”

“To be chasing all of those women I hear about. I heard that nasty song you made about that mans wife”.

I sighed and laughed frustratingly to myself. Damn, not another lecture. I guess I really shouldn’t have recorded that verse.

“Shawn, when are you going to settle down? All of your siblings have and you still out there chasing them tails like you 18. You can’t stay a bachelor forever” she smiled in her elderly grandmother-knows-best tone.

My mother decided to answer for me.

“Ma, that boy ain’t never going to settle down. He enjoys being with a different woman every night.”

“Ahh Ma. That ain’t fair now. I’m still young” I laughed, but trying to defend myself.

“You ain’t young. I was married and taking care of a little girl way before I was 30″ she said.

“But that is different,” I begin.

“No it’s not. I was changing your dirty diapers by the time I was roun’ your age” she said.

My grandma was laughing. I had this childish grin on my face, hearing these two women go in on me.

“Whatever happened to that short girl. The one with that mouth full of teeth. I liked her” my grandma said.

I laughed at her description of Fannie, and then thought about her cute I always thought her overbite was. She was my cutie, regardless of what anyone said.

“Stephanie grandma. And me and her broke up a long time ago” I said.

“Why though? I thought yall would get married and have some great grand babies for me. She was such a nice girl. Real respectful and dressed proper. Didn’t have her body all out her clothes like these other women I see you with” she said.

My mother followed right behind with her own thoughts.

“Yeah Ma. Fannie was a really sweet girl. But of course, Shawn didn’t appreciate her. Did the girl all wrong. Now you see why he was defending Leroy” she laughed.

My grandma shook her head and smiled at me.

“I hope you treat the next one right. Good girls like that don’t grow on trees. They are hard to find” she said.

“Shawn don’t want a good one ma” my mother said, looking at me.

I had to defend myself.

“Ma. Now you acting like I ain’t never had a steady girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you let me meet a few of your girlfriends before. Stacy and some others. I didn’t like them though, not like I liked Fannie. Those girls looked like gold diggers anyway”.

“Well them ain’t the only ones I am talking about. I just broke up with” I stopped myself, realizing I was about to say something without thinking about it.

“You broke up with who?” my grandmother asked.

I thought quickly, wondering if I was going to retract my statement or continue on. I wanted to bring her up, I don’t know why I did, but I did consider her a good one. But could I bring her up?

“Shawn, lying Ma” my mother grinned.

“I just broke up with a very good girl. I was thinking about pursuing something serious with her. Not even a month ago” I said.

“And what happened?”

“I found out something that I couldn’t deal with”.

“What? Was she trying to get some money out of you?” she asked.

I had to laugh at this. Money was the last thing this woman had to worry about. The last freaking thing.

“Nah Ma. She got her own. She’s a very successful business woman. Really talented. Beautiful. Smart. We had some good conversations”.

“Then what happened?”

“Well Ma. I found out some things about her past that turned me off.”

“Uh oh. Sounds like slut shaming” my mother said.

I laughed at how well she knew what that statement meant.

“Not exactly, but close. Ma, the girl had been with someone I had beef with. Like, they had relations” I said.

“Boy, what you talking about, relations. Don’t be all church boy now. Say what you mean. So she f*cked someone you don’t approve of” she asked.

“Well damn Ma. If you put it like that” I said, my eyes raised in surprise.

My grandma shook her head and headed toward the cabinet for something. My mother was still focused in on me, I guess wanting me to continue the story.

“So was that it, Shawn? You broke up with her over that?”

“Well, yeah. I can’t be with someone that has been with someone like that. Plus she didn’t tell me the truth about it”.

“Have you told her the truth about you?” my mother snapped.

“What you mean about me?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Shawn” my mother said.

“How am I being a hypocrite? Anything she wants to know about me, I’ll tell her. I told her a lot of things and she withheld that from me”.

“Shawn, don’t you know yall men make it hard for women to be honest? Yall go and have sex with anything that moves, like you a pimp or think cuz you a man, its ok. But the second a woman goes and does the same thing, she is called a ho and slut and all that nonsense. She didn’t tell you because she knew how you would react”.

“No. I reacted this way because she wasn’t honest.”

“Was she honest about other things with you?”

“Honestly Ma I don’t know anymore. If she would lie about that, she could have lied about other stuff”.

“For someone that deals with a lot of women, you sure don’t know much about us” she said.

“So I’m wrong for wanting the girl to be honest with me, Ma? How is that?”

My grandma returned from the kitchen and came to counter where we were sitting in the high chairs.

“Gloria. Shawn is right about what he is saying. He should expect her to be honest with him. It’s the same thing we just talked about with Leroy” she said.

I smiled in my moms face and turned to my grandma, “That is what I’m saying. Glad you on my side granny” I smiled.

She wasn’t smiling at all, she held her hand up to stop me from blabbering.

“Shawn, I ain’t taking no sides. I’m just speaking the truth. Your mother is right about what she is saying too. You have to look at things from both sides and you aren’t being fair to her. Even though she slept with someone you don’t like, that don’t mean you can’t love her for who she is.”

I was going to respond but she put her hand back up. I shut up.

“Her past is her past, Shawn. Just like your past is your past. Your history of women and drugs didn’t run her away, so why should her past run you off? Why is a woman the demon if she has sex but it’s ok for you?”

“Grandma I ain’t demonizing her-”

She put her hand up, “You are punishing her for something she did before meeting you. Imagine if every woman you met turned her nose up at you because of things you did 10 years ago?”

“Grandma, this happened just a few years ago. It’s still fresh. Hell, I don’t even know the last time they messed around”.

“Of course you won’t know if you don’t ask” she said.

Damn. I always felt I was great at debating, but my nearly 70 year old grandma was kicking my ass in this one. I didn’t have shit else to retort her with.

“Shawn. Bitterness is never healthy” my mother spoke up.

I was done trying to debate with them. I sat, humbled myself, and let them tag-team lecture me from their older perspective.

“You remember Rick? From years ago?” she asked.

“Yeah. He helped DJ those block parties” I responded.

“Yes” she said, biting her lip as if she was unsure of herself, “But that isn’t it”.

I already knew she had an affair with him, but I could tell she didn’t know that I knew. I sat and listened.

“The only other person I have told this too was Micky and Ma, when she cheated on her boyfriend. But, I cheated on your father years ago when he was on the road. This was after your uncle was killed. He was gone all the time, I felt like he was cheating anyway, so I decided to not deprive myself of the one man that was showing me interest”.

“I always thought something was going on with you and Rick” I said.

“Well, your father did too. He accused me and accused me and accused me. But I lied everytime, even when I stopped seeing Rick. I wanted to move past it and be a family again. Even after he left, I lied to him and myself about it, saying it never happened. But it did. And it was a mistake on my part to lie about it. So a year or so after your dad left, I actually got in contact with him. I told him the truth. All of the truth. I told him everything, just a crying away on the phone. When I tell you I got called every name in the book. He hung up the phone on me in my face”.

“He wasn’t wrong for that. I would have done the same thing” I said truthfully.

“But Shawn. I understand he was angry, he had every right to be. But with his brother being murdered and his wife cheating on him, he never got over it. He drank himself to where he is now. Without a love in his life, bitter, angry, no friends, and only estranged family. Now I understand some people have hurt you in your life. You have been through a lot, son. But I don’t want you to end up like your father. You can’t let that stop you from loving again. Even if it’s not this girl you are talking about, it’s someone out there that you can love and not feel that bitterness in your heart”.

My grandmother had her eyes closed and was agreeing by nodding her head.

“Now your father thought I was spoiled goods. I still believed he was cheating on me, but he never admitted to it. But I have to ask. Is the young lady you broke up with spoiled goods to you?”

I pondered the question. There was so many things I had yet to explore with her. And hearing the older women in my life tell me about myself and stick up for her was reminded me of that. I wanted to hate her and just move on. But I still did feel something for her, and I felt terrible for the way I had treated her. I treated an already insecure woman like she wasn’t worth even a text message. I didn’t even give her an explanation. Did she really deserve this? Even if she didn’t tell me about her relationship with Nas?

“No. She isn’t spoiled” I answered.

“Then don’t treat her that way. Treat her like a woman who will make mistakes just like you did, and see where it takes you” she said.

The conversation stayed with me that night and over the next week. I wanted to reach out to her, but how could I? Where would I begin in trying to fix this mess? I had erased her number from my phone but had it on a piece of paper in a shoe box in my closet, just in case. I called, and sure enough, it was disconnected.

This wasn’t like when Fannie changed her number. I couldn’t look up a celebs info with public records because publicist and lawyers made those documents private. So even though I would see her on TV all the time, she was in another world. Worlds away from me. I had no way of contacting her and apologizing.

Well there were other ways of indirectly contacting her, but I really didn’t want to hop through hoops to do it. I had Kelly’s number and Tracy, but I didn’t want to call either of them. I didn’t want anyone in our business, and who knows, maybe she had told them to change their numbers as well. I could always call her record company and put in a message but that seemed like a bad idea all around, considering word of it could get around the company or with her father.

The days passed but seemed to all run together. They were filled with thoughts of her, more specifically thoughts of calling her. I didn’t know what I’d say or how I’d say it. I just wanted to hear her voice. The desire to hear it was strong, strong enough for me to pick up my phone and flip through the names listed. I stopped at the K’s, took and deep breath and eventually stopped when I found the one I was looking for. It was her or Tracy, and Tracy was the last one I wanted to go through.

The phone begin ringing, putting an end to the hopes that I had about her changing her number. I was hoping that if she changed her number, I could at least tell myself that I tried. But before those thoughts could dissipate from my head, I heard someone pick up.

“Hello?” the female voice asked, suspiciously.

“Hey. May I speak to Kelly?” I asked.

“This is she” she said just as leery.

“Hey, this is Jay. How are you doing?”

“I know who this is. I’m fine. Yourself?” she said, dry.

“I’m good. Real good”.

There was a knowing silence on the line. My heart started beating.

“So, what is it that you want, Jay-Z?”

“Bee” I said.

“Well, this isn’t Bee’s number” she responded.

“I know. But she changed it. I was wondering if maybe you could give me her new one”.

“Why didn’t she give it to you?”

“We kind of had a falling out”.

“Is that what you call it? I call it you dogging her out” she said, this time in a clear loathing tone.

“So she told you?” I sighed.

“Told me what? That you are an ass? Yeah, she did”.

“I get why she would feel that way. It’s why I want to contact her. Apologize for my actions”.

“Jay, she really doesn’t want to hear any of that. You had her cursing me out for pushing her to talk to you. I trusted that you’d at least be a man about whatever yall did. But what you did was some b*tch shit. I feel like crap for even helping you out the first time. That’s my girl and all I asked for you to do was not f*ck her over”.

“I know, Kelly. I was dead wrong. Dead wrong. But I want to tell her that myself”.

“She knows you were dead wrong. It wouldn’t be news to her. And know what? I don’t see any good of you talking to her. She is doing really good now. Movies, recording for her album. She’s really getting over the depression and stuff. Last thing she needs is for that to be interrupted because of you”.

“I hear you. I hear all of that. But I think us getting this closure is the best thing for everyone. I mean, she can mask her pain by doing movies and sh*t. But that doesn’t stop the pain. I want to tell her directly how sorry I am and explain to her what was going on with me”.

“And then f*ck her again?”

“Nah, it’s really not about sex. Shit, she can even decide she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. But I want to at least apologize”.

I paced my living room, waiting for Kelly to respond. I was sincere in what I wanted. But I couldn’t tell if she believed me, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. This was the picture I painted, the bed I made.

“Jay. I can’t give you her number. She made me promise I wouldn’t give you her number and I am not going to break my promise”.

I was disappointed by this. Almost heart broken. But apparently, she wasn’t finished.

“But” she stammered, “I can give you Tracy’s number. That’s one of her publicist. If Tracy gives it to you, then that’s on her. But don’t put my name in any of this. You are on your own, you got me?”

“I got you. Thanks Kelly” I said, really cursing her for forcing me to call Tracy.

I was going to have to face my past, a demon of my past in order to get in contact with Beyonce. I struggled with myself internally regarding it. I waited three days before I called her. She picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” she said cordially.

“Hey. This is Shawn. Jay-Z” I said, my hand causing the phone to shake against my ear.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, I thought for sure she was going to hang up on me and my chances of contacting Bee.

“Hello?” I said.

“Yes. Hold on” she mumbled.

She put me on hold for around ten minutes as I flipped through a magazine and bit my nails, letting my nerves take over. She returned with a clear attitude.

“What do you want?” she harshly blurted.

“I want to talk to you personally. Maybe we could meet somewhere for brunch” I said.

“What? Why? Because of Beyonce?”

“Partly. But it’s more than that. I have a lot to atone for, but it starts with you. And I’d like to see you in person” I said.

“Shawn. Jay-Z. I don’t want anything to do with you and Ms. Knowles doesn’t either. Have a nice day”.

“Tracy, please. I don’t beg, but I am willing to beg you for just 15 minutes. Please. I ask you from a humble place. From a sorrowful heart”.

The seconds that the air was empty was like decades, but I knew it was a good thing, relatively speaking. A slow yes instead of a fast no was all I needed.

“Ok, Shawn. 15 minutes. That’s it. I will tell you where to meet me tomorrow. Anywhere I chose, you have to be there. If you can’t make it, then too bad. Tomorrow is my only free day. Goodbye” she said, hanging up immediately after.

I had a recording session and a meeting with Dame the next day. I canceled it.

She told me to meet her at a ice cream place in Georgia. I got my plane ticket that morning and flew there within the hour I got the phone call. We planned our little meeting at 7 PM, and when I arrived at the ice cream place, she was waiting outside with a sunhat on and blue dress. She was such a beautiful girl, much more refined than the wide eyed girl I had met a decade earlier. She also had a confidence about her that she didn’t have then. To think that what I did to her didn’t kill her but only made her stronger, gave me a deep knot in my belly.

I walked up to her and sat down at a round small round table that was outside of the shop. The sun was beginning to set and there weren’t many people around. It was a pretty nice spot for seclusion.  She had some Vanilla ice cream in a cup and was eating it with a plastic spoon. I sat down, she scooted over away from me so we were staring at each other. She took a spoon full of the ice cream in her mouth and bit down hard on it, swallowing the melted cream as if it was water, staring at me with contempt.

“Your 15 minutes start now” she said suddenly.

I had prepared what I wanted to say to her, practicing it on the plane. But the words weren’t coming. What I prepared seem so superficial and inauthentic when I saw this woman looking at me. One in a long list of women I had done wrong. Dozens, maybe several dozens, hell maybe even hundreds of women probably felt the way she felt about me, but she was the only one I ever had to face. The only one I had to look in the eye and be at her mercy. There was no swag, or false bravado, or pimp game to shield me.

“Tracy” I started

“Ms. Flowers” she corrected.

“Ms. Flowers. My fault. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been so long, but I know the pain for you is still real and fresh. So i guess the only way to begin this is to skip all the bullshit. I did you wrong. And I apologize for it. I am sorry, Ms. Flowers. I am so sorry for what I did to you”.

“You needed 15 minutes for that? You could have done that over the phone”.

“I needed to look in your eyes when I said it. I wouldn’t be a man to apologize for it over the phone”.

“Do you feel you are a man now? Cuz you say sorry 10 years later just so I can do you a favor?”

“I don’t know what it makes me, Tra…Ms. Flowers”.

“Call me Tracy, Shawn”.

“I don’t know if I’m a man. But for the first time in my life, that is what I am striving to be. I’d like to think I can become the man my mother sees in me. The man Bee saw in me”.

“Beyonce didn’t see the real you” she said.

“She saw the real me, Tracy. She just only saw one side. I won’t deny the other side and act like it’s not me. It is. I have done things in my life that truly are disgusting. Including hurt you. I did things out of sight, out of mind. Thinking I’d never be confronted with it ever again. Thinking I’d never have to apologize for it. But Karma, comes back”.

“Right” she said as if she didn’t believe my words, “Karma or Carmen? I’m sure you learned a lot when just a few months ago you were bragging about skeeting in a mans jeep. You sounded so changed and sincere then. Yeah, f*cking right” she said, licking her spoon.

“I’m not a finished product and I’m not claiming to be. I just know what I am striving for. And it starts right here. In Georgia. All I can do is say that I am sorry, truly sorry. And after that, it’s up to you to forgive me or not”.

“So what, you are trying to put this on me? Guilt me into forgiving you since you quote on quote are a changed man?” she barked.

“The only one that should feel shame is me, Trace. “

“Oh, so we are on a nickname basis with me now?” she spat sarcastically.

For the first time in the conversation, I felt a tad bit angry. But I calmed myself and didn’t show it. She was angry, I could understand why. But I wasn’t going to go in circles.

“Tracy. You realize you are punishing me just like I did to Bee for something in her past?”

“Shawn, I don’t know what you are talking about. Beyonce never told me what exactly you did to her. But I don’t need specifics. I saw how hurt she was and I wasn’t surprised. I felt bad cuz I didn’t warn her”.

“She told me you told her not to date me”.

“I’m her publicist Jay. She asked me about working with you and I advised against it. I didn’t tell her anything about our history or what you did to me. Hell, I don’t even list Rocafella on my resume. It’s something I’d like to forget”.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” I asked curiously.

“Because. Bee is a young woman trying to live her life. I’m some 30 year old woman that talks to her about PR decisions, I’m not her life coach. And as a young woman, she deserved the opportunity to learn about men without people barging in. She already complains about not having the freedom to explore her own path and she deserved the chance to get to know who you were on her own”.

“That was a strong thing to do” I said.

“Oh trust me. I didn’t do it for you or even for me. I did it cuz sometimes we can only grow by making mistakes on our own.”

“I don’t think it was a mistake for her to talk to me” I said.

“I bet you wouldn’t. But you didn’t see the aftermath of you dogging her out. The girl is such a beautiful and happy woman, and by the time you were done with her she was locked in her room, crying, listening to Me’Shell Ndegeocello ‘s You Made a Fool of Me all day. How can you men do shit like this to women who don’t deserve it? How can you men take a girl fresh out of college, just looking to get started. And make her suck some bum rappers dick? How can yall sleep at night?”

“I don’t sleep at night” I interrupted, face towards the table.

“I don’t sleep. I don’t rest. There is no rest or peace at night. That is why I am here Tracy. I don’t want to be in this place anymore. I don’t want to continue this cycle. Yeah people have done me wrong in life, but I don’t want to use that as a crutch for why I do it. I don’t want to be that guy”.

“Shawn, obviously you are hurt. And I can understand that. I bet you had a rough upbringing, I am sure of that. But Beyonce is hurt too. And that doesn’t mix. Hurt people, hurt people. It’s a never ending cycle. Neither one of you should use each other to get over your hurt”.

“Tracy, I don’t agree with that. I believe love, and true friendship can be medicine, chicken soup for the soul. There is no healing by myself in a cold, empty room. The healing is through companionship. Friends. Forgiveness and unconditional love”.

“You believe that?”

“I believe that” i said.

She thought for awhile, her ice cream was milk after her neglecting it and focusing on our conversation. But her face had become softer. She wasn’t as harsh as she was when I first came.

“Shawn. I hear everything you have said. But it doesn’t change anything. I am not giving you her number. She is in a great place right now away from foolishness”.

“You mean, away from me?”

“If that is how you want to see it, then yes. She is doing damn good being away from you”.

I eyed her.

“You had your chance to prove to her and yourself that you were a changed man and you didn’t do it. Move on. She loved you. She really did. She never talked about you with anyone, but you could see in her eyes whenever someone mentioned your name. I know that look. I use to be that girl. I’ve been there, loving a man that was no good. And hell, what do I know. Maybe you have changed and you can be a good man for a woman. But not Bee. You don’t deserve her. She deserves something more than what you can offer. This girl argued with her parents about you. Straight argued with them, telling them to give you a chance and not judge you”.

“Wait, she told her parents about me?”

“Yes. Last year some time. She was just waiting for them to come around before she told you about it”.

Her words hit me like a bolt of lightening, making all the hairs on my body stand up and shooting shock waves through me. After all of this time; all of this damn time. She had told her people about me. There was no indecision about us on her part. She was just involved with a battle internally with her people about me. And then I made Superugly and then I dogged her out, proving whatever preconceptions they had about me right. I had proven them right.

It hurt coming to this realization. It’s like the allegory of the cave. Being in a dark cave for so long, blind to the truth of what was outside. Only to come out and be blinded by the sun. Blindsided by what was real. And I never once gave her the benefit of the doubt. I was a selfish nigga. So selfish, that Tracy was right. She was f*cking right.

“I don’t deserve her” I said aloud to myself, letting the words sink in.

“You’re right. You don’t” she agreed.

The sun was gone and the night sky was taking over. A few people came up and walked into the ice cream shop, bypassing us. It was their presence that stopped me from breaking down. I was really emotional at this moment in my life.

“Tracy. Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to see myself for what I am. Again, I’m sorry for what I did to you those years back. And I hope some day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me”.

I blinked my eyes, making sure no stray tears could form, and extended my hand. She eyed me hard, letting the moments past while the wind blew. She eventually met my hand and we shook.

“You’re forgiven” she said softly.

I went to my hotel, ordered a pizza and laid in the bed. I felt dead. No real emotions. Just a dead, empty feeling. It hurt even more to not have a clear emotional focus, like sad or angry or mad. It hurt more to feel empty, drained of emotion. But that was what i was as I laid in bed as an empty shell. I fell alseep after eating a few slices of Pizza, dreaming about my teeth falling out of my mouth.

I was awakend by my cell phone. I thought to ignore it, but something inside of me wouldn’t allow for it. Something was telling me to answer that damn ring, and it wasn’t my annoyance with hearing it make noise. I turned around and grabbed the phone. It was 9:35 P.M. and the caller ID showcased a number and area code I didn’t recognize. Could be a prank, could be someone from the company. Or maybe? No it couldn’t be. But I answered anyway, with a wishful thinking attitude.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hello, may I speak to David” a strange voice said.

“No David hear. Must have the wrong number” I mumbled.

“Oh sorry” the male voice said, before clicking off.

I had been played by my own mind. I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I stayed up, ate the entire box of pizza and watched HBO softcore porn.

When the morning sun had peaked and began entering the room, I got another call on my cell. I had just closed my eyes for a bit of rest and was annoyed that it was ringing so early. I picked up the phone and once again saw a number I didn’t recognize. As I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, I realized that the first part of the number was looking more familiar that I originally thought.

And then, like a bag of bricks. It was a Houston area code. And the only people I knew in Houston that had my number was Scarface and…….

“Hello?” I said into the phone, thirsty like.

“Hello? Is this Shawn?” the heavenly, voice said.

My heart dropped. Damn, she had called me.

“This is him. Hi Beyonce” I said, still not really believing what I was hearing.

“Hi” she said, not coming close to matching my excitement.

“It’s so good to hear from you Bee. Like, I am really glad you called me” I said, hoping to get more emotion from her.

“Well. Don’t thank me. Thank my publicist” she said.

The hell? Tracy? Impossible.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My publicist told me that you called her and talked to her. Said that I should give you a call”.

“Why would she say that? I thought she didn’t like me?” I said.

“Well, she said everyone deserves a second chance. I told her no at first, slept on it. And here I am calling. Feeling foolish for doing so”.

“Don’t feel foolish Bee. I am the one that should be feeling foolish. Bee, I have so much apologizing to do to you that I don’t even know where to begin. But for short, I am sorry. So sorry for my behavior”.

She didn’t say anything.

“Bee, where are you right now?” I asked, not feeling the phone apology.

“Why?”

“I want to see you?”

“Shawn. No. NO. I called just to clear my mind and let you clear your mind. Things are not going back to what they were”.

“I understand you reluctance Beyonce. I do. But trust me with this-”

“I trusted you once. Why should I do so again?”

I took a deep breath. Breaking walls and apologizing was hard work.

“Bee. I want to do things right. Which means I don’t want to talk to you on the phone. I want to look you in your eyes and apologize. I need to. I need for you to see me. All of me. And I am willing to reveal all of me to you. But I can’t do that here, in this hotel. I need to see you”.

“Shawn. I promised myself I was through with you. I….I….I can’t do this again, SHawn”.

“Beyonce. Please.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Atlanta”.

“Are you in Atlanta?” I asked.

“No” she said uneasily.

“Bee, listen to me. I f*cked up. I f*cked up big time. That is my fault. But one, you deserve an honest explanation for why.”

“I don’t want to know why, Jay. I don’t want to have to wonder why I ain’t good enough anymore. I’m past it”.

“Then why did you call me, Bee? Listen to yourself and then check your actions. You poured your heart out to me during a text message and did your best to save us. Now it’s my time to. I want you back as a friend Beyonce. And….Bee, I love you, ok? I love you and need to tell you this in person. I need to apologize to you in person and give my best shot at saving what we have as friends. You don’t have to be my girl or anything you don’t want. But at the least, I want to save our friendship”.

“Shawn” I heard her sniff, “Why are you telling me that you love me? You dont mean that”.

“Bee, I do love you and-”

“Stop…saying…THAT!” she barked into the receiver.

I wasn’t going to let it phase me.

“Bee, I won’t stop saying what I feel. I won’t let you run from from it and I won’t run from it. You said in your text for me to not be afraid to love you. And damn Bee, that is what I am trying to do right now. Let me. Don’t run from me.”

There was a long delay. A long delay as emotions, unsaid words, and possibilities floated around the atmosphere. I had no idea where things would go from here. We could end up as friends, or lovers, or enemies, or strangers after today. All of these were distinct possibilities, but I wasn’t worried about predicting the future or handicapping my heart. All I was concerned about was seeing this girl and attempting to release the infinite amount of emotions that were destroying the beat of my heart. I didn’t need perfection, or security to no I would never be hurt. I just needed a chance. It was all I needed.

“Miami. I’m recording here for my album. Living in the hotel” she said.

“I’m on my way” I said to her.

“Ok” she responded.

I was now on my way to the Sunshine state, to reclaim what I had lost.

I made my way to the airport with thoughts of saving myself from a life of heartache. I was reluctant to admit it to myself, but after saying it out to her, it was starting to sink in. I said the words before my head had even accepted it as a rational thought. I loved her. I had fallen for her.I got on the plane and thought about my brief conversation with her and what it meant. I went back and forth in my head, trying to decide if my confession was a ploy to get her back or if it was what my heart felt. I had told many girls I loved them before, most of them under false pretense as a way to handle them. I wondered if this was what was happening all over again. I had lied to myself and women so many times that I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and the realm of my false words. My words could create a web so sticky and thick that I was unable to escape.And as I rode the short slight from Atlanta to Miami, I felt trapped. Caught up in a matrix of end justify the means shit. Maybe I didn’t really love her, I came to the conclusion when my flight arrived. I had convinced myself that I had only told her to get her to forgive me. My heart and head hurt coming to this realization. But the more I tried to buy into the thoughts, the more it hurt. There was something inside still holding on to those three words and the chance that there was real validity to them. I wanted Bee. I wanted her as my friend again. The question was how far would I go to fulfill those desires. Would I lie? Would I cheat. Would I betray her trust, once again?Life seemed so fickle at it’s root. I could tell the truth to her. Tell her I am confused about my feelings and tell her I really had not yet matured in my thoughts regarding love, and commitment. I wasn’t even sure I could be committed. I could be honest with her and tell her these things, and she’d hate me for it. Who would want to trust someone so unsure of himself?Or, I could stretch the truth into a comforting lie. I could tell her I loved her with all of my heart and I would be willing to stop my life for her. I could tell her she was the only one I saw and that she had changed me. Hell, isn’t that what most men who were once players said? I could tell her all of that bullshit and she would likely believe it, accept me back, and we’d have back scratching, violent, make up sex.It was one of those dilemma that seemed to have one clear cut path to take. The path that led to forgiveness and had the least amount of pain, for both parties. But it was also the plan that the Jay-Z I wanted to separate myself from would take. The easy way out, the serpants way in.

Was I a snake? A sheep in Wolfs clothing? Did I mean a word I said to Tracy about wanting to become the man my mother saw in me? Was I truly sorry for what I did to her? Were my words the product of a sincere heart or a manipulative spirit. It was a shade of gray that I couldn’t pinpoint. But I knew what I felt, inside. I felt like a villain, willing to go to any length to win. In this love affair, I felt like the antagonist, with hidden motives.

Was there anyway out of this maze? She texted me as the pilot announced we were only a few minutes from the airport, forcing me to gather my thoughts before I was ready to.

Received 3:55 PM: Call me wen u get off da plane

I called her almost immediately.

“Hey” she said unenthusiastic.

“Sup. Where exactly are you staying? I just got off the plane” I asked.

There was a familiar silence.

“Bee?” I said.

“Jay….I am having second thoughts about this whole thing” she said.

This time, I remained silent. She would have to elaborate on this one.

“Shawn. I love you. But, this is just too much for me. Too soon. I don’t think I can take seeing you” she said.

The commotion was overbearing at the port, with announcements for plane delays and takeoffs and hundreds of people talking and walking and contributing to the noise factor. It only added to the frustration I was feeling from hearing Beyonce tell me this. Second thoughts, after I already get here?

“Bee. Why would you tell me its ok to come and then-”

“I’m sorry. That was dumb of me. It was dumb for me to even call you. You apologized, I forgive you, and that’s that. There is no need for me to see you” she said.

I felt it. I was conscious of it. I was conscious of the lies that began forming in my head that I was going to skilfully deliver to her over the phone. My consciousness over this caused my heart to drop. I guess it was confirmed. I was only doing this for my own selfish, selfish, reasons. I was that guy.

“Beyonce. We need to see each other so that we can both get closure. Avoiding me doesn’t give you closure anymore than me avoiding you did. We both need this. Please”.

“I can’t” she said.

“You can’t what?”

“Go through this again. I’m better without you. I’m sane without you. I don’t want to go back to that place.”

“I’m not sane without you Bee.” I said, avoiding the people that were running up behind me for an autograph.

This was all too surreal. I felt as if I was watching myself, observing myself for the first time. I saw what I was doing and I hated it. But I couldn’t stop it. I was a slave to this moment. Tormented by it but kept alive because of the way it fed all of me.

“What is all of that in the background?” she asked.

“I’m at the airport still. I need to know what hotel you are staying in”.

She breathed heavily into the phone. I could sense her apprehension regarding my request. I could sense her mind, body, heart, and soul engaging in warfare for supremacy.

“Can I call you back?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to book a hotel while I wait. But don’t wait too long” I said.

“Yeah” she said, before hanging up.

I ended up calling and booking a hotel room although I didn’t immediately go to it. I paid for a driver to just drive me around the city while I waited for her to call me back. I figured she would have called me right back or at least within the hour, but when that call never came, I decided to see what was taking so long.

I called her but she didn’t answer. I texted her a few minutes after the call.

Sent 5:17 P:M: Still waitin 4 u 2 call me back

I rode in silence, with my phone in my hand for the next half an hour and didn’t get a response. I gave the driver a few hundreds and made my way to the hotel. I ate dinner, showered, and called her back. This time I left a message when she didn’t answer.

“Yo Bee. I’m at the hotel, still waiting. Maybe you got caught up or something. Just let me know what’s up. Talk to you soon.”

The night came and settled in and still no call. I shot her one last text message before I laid down, one she never responded to. At this point, this seemed intentional. I wanted to believe otherwise, but she couldn’t even send me a text? I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, because I couldn’t see Bee straight up playing me. Even after what I put her through, I couldn’t see it.

The next day was more of the same. I called, texted, and got no response. Nothing. The one call I did get was from Dame, who reminded me of a meeting we had the next day.

“Where you at?” he asked.

“I’m out. But I’ll be there” I said, hoping Bee and I would have our talk before then.

“Aight, boss. Don’t blow this” he said with an attitude, before hanging up.

I sent Bee another text.

Sent 3:15 PM: Could u please hit me back soon and let me kno wassup. i got a meeting 2morrow…

She responded immediately, ending the suspicion to if she was intentionally ignoring me. It was no longer a suspicion, it was fact.

Received 3:16 PM: go 2 ur meetin

Sent 3:18 PM: so u dont want to c me?

Received 3:19 PM: Nope

Sent 3:21 PM: And wen were u gonna tell me dis?

Received 3:22 PM: Wen i got roun to it. Jay, jus leave me alone

Sent 3:24 PM: So its over….jus like dat?

She didn’t respond. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what I was feeling. A mixture of hurt feelings and anger. Either way, I refused to leave. Her harsh response which came out of nowhere only fueled my desires to get her back. My ego would be too bruised to pack up and leave like this. I knew the girl loved me, and she was only able to cut me off through text. She coulnd’t even tell me this over the phone. She was big and bad behind words on a screen. But I knew if she saw me, if I was in her face, then things would be different. Against her will, she would be forced to confront me and the emotions that went along with it.

It only took a few phone calls and I got the studio address that she was recording at as well as the hotel she was staying. I smoked a cigar and made my way over to her hotel, waiting in the lobby on an official stakeout. The kind of stakeout I use to do in my time in the streets, tracking my prey. I knew she was at the studio, so I’d catch her when she returned. It was risky, hell it was page one of the stalker handguide, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t leaving Miami until I had words, face to face, with this woman.

After an hour or so, I decided to book a hotel so it wouldn’t be too suspicious. I requested a room that had a clear view of the front entrance, and that was where I stood until night fall. A little past 8, I saw a SUV pull up, and the driver make his way to the backseat. Sure enough, she emerged from the backseat with a bodyguard.

With her bodyguard there, it would be difficult to confront her without her consent. I decided I’d f*ck with her head by alerting her of my presence. It was a technique I learned in the streets. Another way to control the direction of a situation.

Sent 9:55 PM: Bee, can we talk? Please?

Almost immediately, she stopped where she stood and looked at her cell phone. I watched from the window, ready to send my follow up message which was already typed. She read, frowned up her nose and threw her phone in her purse. The driver got some bags from the backseat and they begin to make their way into the lobby. I sent my next text.

Sent 9:56 PM: Wats in the bags?

On cue she was reaching in her purse again, walking without looking as she sought her phone. When she read the text, she froze where she stood, right before going into the entrance. Her bodyguard and driver stopped, wondering what the hell caused her to stop dead in her tracks. It was a comical scene as she looked around the near vacant lot and then the rest of the area. She looked again at the screen of the phone as her bodyguard made his way to her with his hands up. She shook her head and said something to him, closing her phone and putting in back into her purse. She was definitely attempting to hide her thoughts from him.

I closed the curtain and went to go sit on my bed. It was only a matter of time. And 10 minutes later, I got the text.

Received 10:07 PM: Are u stalking me?

Sent 10:08 PM: I don’t think it matters…

Received 10:10 PM: How da hell not?

Sent 10:12 PM: Bee, if u felt threatened…u would have told ur bodyguard

Received 10:14 PM: N how do u kno i didn’t tell him?

Sent 10:18 PM: No red n blue lights flashing outside. The police would be here n .5 seconds if dey thought beyonces life was threatened

She didn’t immediately respond to that text. About twenty minutes passed before she called me. I let in ring a few times before answering.

“Hey”.

“Jay..what do you want from me? That you didn’t already get?”

“Your forgiveness. And your friendship.”

“I already said I forgive you” she harshly said.

“Then why can’t you say it face to face?”

“Because I don’t believe anything you are telling me, ok? I don’t believe any of it”.

“What don’t you believe Bee?”

I felt a knot in my gut.

“That you love me. I just don’t believe you, sorry. It just doesnt make sense. I’m not stupid, Shawn. I may seem like a naive little girl, but I do have some common sense”.

“Since when does love make sense, Bee? Does it make sense for you to love me?” I asked.

“No, it doesn’t. That’s why I don’t want to anymore”.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked, puzzled.

“I have just done a lot of thinking and reflecting. And I just can’t see anything good coming from this with you. Like you said, we had fun. Some good sex. And that’s that. Why would I think it was more than what it was”.

“It was more than that, Bee, and you know it. I am the one that just refused to see it”.

“Jay. You saw it the way I should have saw it. I wanted to believe that someone that showed me that much attention could really want more than just sex, but it was naive to think that. That’s my fault, I should have known better”.

“Bee, if you think it was just sex. Then why do you think I’m even here? Huh? Why would I be in his hotel room, calling for you, if I got what I f*cking wanted?”

“That is the part that is confusing me honestly. What is your motive here? “

“I don’t have a motive Bee. Aside from the love I have for you. It feels right and I don’t want to run from it”.

She started laughing, which I didn’t expect since I had my serious face on.

“So it’s funny?” I asked.

She coughed in the middle of her giggle, “It’s not really what you said. It’s just funny since I recorded a song about this, kind of.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“It’s a long story” she said.

“I got time to listen” I responded.

She sighed, “Ugh I hate you so much” she laughed; a terribly frustrated laugh.

“You don’t hate me”.

“I don’t and it makes me so mad.”

“See, I told you that you didn’t have any closure.”

“And I bet it makes you so happy to be right, huh”.

“Bee, I f*cked up. I won’t be happy until I know all is right between us”.

“I can’t believe i believed everything we had would last, So young and naive for me to think, She was from your past, Silly of me to dream of, One day having your kids, Love is so blind, It feels right when it’s wrong . I can’t believe i fell for your schemes, I’m smarter than that, So young and naive to believe that with me You’re a changed man” she said.

“Woah. Say what?” I asked.

“That is the first verse of the song I recorded today”.

“You wrote a song about me?”

“It’s not about you. It’s called Me, Myself, and I. But to sing the song today, I had to channel all of the emotions I felt inside about you. If you did anything for me, you helped me to sing that song. It’s why I had to ignore you. I felt like I’d be betraying the song if I talked to you while singing about moving on”.

“How do the lyrics go again?”

She took a breath.

“I can’t believe I believed everything we had would last” she started, “So young and naive to believe that she was from your past”.

“Wait, who was in my past?” I asked.

“Jay. I have connections just like you. And I heard about you still messing with Carmen. I knew you were still messing with other girls too. Hell, the night you told me to call you years ago, I was sure you were with another woman. Even when we were talking, you were with other girls. I wasn’t with anyone or even thinking about anyone else. But here I was, thinking I was the only girl you were really checking for. That was what I wanted to believe”.

“Bee, from my understanding we were just kicking it. We never made a vow to be in a committed relationship or anything.”

“Sometimes actions are louder than vows, Jay. You thought I was just so open to you for no reason? Did you really think I just wanted casual sex and thats it? Why would I tell secrets to the man I just want to f*ck?”

“Damn” was all I could say.

“For someone that is so street smart and business smart, you sure were dumb if you didn’t know what I wanted from us”.

“Bee. You are right. As I said, I f*cked up. But charge that shit to my head and not my heart”.

“Let me finish the first verse” she said.

“Go on” I said.

“Silly of me to dream of one day having your kids, Love is so blind, It feels right when it’s wrong .

I laughed, “Wait, you dreamed of having my kids?”

I heard the reluctant laugh in her voice, “Oh shut up.”

“Kind of early for all of that” I teased.

“Girls in love tend to do dumb things like that. I had the names of all of them and everything” she sighed.

We shared a laugh together and it felt wonderful to hear her laugh again. I was smiling hard.

“Ok, keep finishing the verse.”

“Stop interrupting me, damn. Where was I at?”

“Something about you wanting my little ones” I joked.

“Ok. Love is so blind, It feels right when it’s wrong . I can’t believe i fell for your schemes, I’m smarter than that, So young and naive to believe that with me You’re a changed man.”

“Schemes?” I said.

“Shawn. You are such a mysterious, smart, and shady person that it’s hard to know what you are real about and what is just a game to you. I know you used game on a lot of women. Hell it scared me to know that you could have sex with another mans chick and make a song about it. I knew the only way you could have pulled that off was by scheming. And then, everything you prolly used on them, you used on me. And it worked. I fell for you”.

“It wasn’t a scheme Bee. I really did like you”

“How many times have you told a girl that?”

I sighed, “Bee. It really wasn’t like that” I said.

“And how many times have you said that? See how smooth it rolls off your tongue? You are a master at twisting a gals emotions, huh?”

I felt my anger rise. I felt like all of this was just a way for her to feel vindicated. Maybe this was just her way of making me feel like a dummy, because nothing I could say was going to get her to see….

And then it hit me. Words. This was all about my words. That was just it. NOTHING I could SAY was going to convince her of betraying herself again. I was fighting a battle I could never win. A war of words. She was done with my words.

“For now own, imma be my own best friend” she sing in a melodious voice.

She was now mocking me, taunting me for refusing to accept anything I had to say as more than an effort to get back with her.

“You want the truth Beyonce?” I barked into the receiver, ending her sing song chants of the song she had recorded earlier.

“Isn’t that what you always talked about? Brutal honesty?” she asked.

“Ima give you the truth. Go to your email” I said.

“WHat? Why?”

“Go to your email” I repeated.

I went to my laptop, searched for the article that had been written about me a month ago and sent it to her. She laughed, joked about how silly this was, and I remained silent as she went to her email address to read what I had sent.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Read it”.

I read it along with her, rehashing the emotions I felt when I first read it. It was by a hip hop blogger, who talk about Jay-Z, the misogynist rapper. It chronicled my lyrics throughout the years, specifically those that degraded women and then spoke at length about hip hop’s obsession with humiliating women. The underlining theme was that I hated women. I hated them.

“Ok, so why did I just read that? It’s not true, at least not all of it” she said.

“No” I responded.

“Know what?”

“No Bee. It is true. All of it. I hate women. I’m incapable of loving. I hate women. I hate myself. I hate my mom. I hate my sisters. The only consistent feeling I feel is hate. You were right. I dont love you. How could I?”

“Ok, so where is this coming from?” she asked, not fully grasping what I was saying.

“You want the truth about me Bee, right? Here it is. I have slapped my own sister. Your publicist Tracy. I passed her around my office like a cheap blunt years ago. I have blamed my mother for years for making my dad leave cuz she cheated on him. So now I got this fear of every woman being a cheater, and I blame everyone of yall for it. I hate yall for it. I hate you. It’s why I enjoyed hurting you. I enjoyed leaving you feeling broken. And I hate myself for being the person I am. You know, I try to rebuild myself piece by piece, but I can’t be rebuilt. This is who I am. Everything in that article is who I am.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

The emotional brakes that I had failed me, as my eyes grew red and tears formed. I was hurting. And I didn’t know how to stop it.

“Because I have no one else to tell, Bee. “

“Is that why you broke things off with me?” she asked.

“That doesn’t matter Beyonce. It was all an excuse so I could hurt you. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to make you cry. Anything else was irrelevant.”

“You accomplished all of that. So why are you here in Miami?” she asked.

“To do it again, Bee” I said as the tears started down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried, but nothing on earth could stop it from coming out. I dropped my head, and the streams glazed my cheeks, the salt taste of them settling on my tongue. I couldn’t believe where I was. On the phone with a woman admitting things to her that I struggled to even admit to myself.

It was embarrassing, humiliating, and humbling, but it was also something else. Something that helped to numb the hurt that I had felt in my belly for years. It was liberating.

“Shawn, are you ok?” she asked.

But I cried, like a wittle baby. On the floor, in the dark of my hotel room. The cry was short, very short, as I forced myself to gather my composure. Beyonce was on the phone asking if I was ok.

“I’m sorry, Bee” I managed to get out, wiping my eyes quickly and feeling ever so conscious of my predicament.

“Don’t be” she said softly.

“You know. I wanted to return the favor and hurt you so much that you broke down and cried. That was my ultimate goal. To make you beg for me and then send you on your way” she said after moments of silence.

I didn’t say anything, just closed my eyes and tried not to concentrate on the throbbing headache I had.

“But. It doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m no better than the other person. Makes me feel like when I lost my virginity. Just makes me feel worse. It’s really not a way I want to go through living life. Trying to get revenge. Trying to get the best of someone by hurting them. Like, what do you win by doing it?  I tell you one thing, It’s definitely not what it’s cracked up to be” she said in a teary laugh.

“Yeah” I said, calming myself down.

Neither of us spoke for a while. We communicated with our breathing. I laid on the bed with the receiver to my ear and my eyes closed.

“I forgive you, Shawn” she said in a whisper.

She started singing softly into the phone, a song I had never heard before. I could barely make out the words to the song, but her soft delivery helped to ease all of the pain I was feeling, from my headache to the embarrassment I felt. Like a mother singing to her sleepy child, cradling him until he drifted off to sleep.

“You are my raindrop. I am the sea . With you and God, who’s my sunlight I bloom and grow so beautifully. Baby, I’m so proud . So proud to be your girl . You make the confusion go all away. From this cold and messed up world”.

And I drifted off to sleep, in a fetal position, listening to the calming effects of her voice.

The next morning, I woke up suddenly wondering if it had all been a dream. The conversation, hearing her voice, and crying in front of her. But as I searched the hotel room with sunlight barely peaking in I realized the truth. But it wasn’t a dream, my phone was laying next to me on the bed. I picked it up and heard her breathing on the other end. We apparently had both fallen asleep on the phone listening to each other breath.

“Bee?” I said into the phone.

I listened; she was still sleeping. I took the opportunity to admire each of her breaths. She breathed in rhythm, slowly to her heartbeat, like a song. I had slept with her many times, but never had I appreciated her breaths. I smiled as I listened. There was something about our relationship, where she forced me to notice things I had never noticed  before. When we were having sexless intimacy, kissing in the nude under the sheets, I discovered every curve and spot on her body. I became familiar with every curve, every beauty mark, and every hot spot. I studied her body like a college student studied for an exam.

When we did have sex, it was as if we were reconnecting. I felt as if I had been there before, like reincarnation. I already knew her. We knew each other. As I listened to her breath in and exhale, I thought about the metaphysical. How the forces of nature had brought me and her together. I thought about proverbs and old sayings I had read about that spoke of destiny and fate.

When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it was what the Alchemist told me.

Whatever is not conscious will be experienced as fate is what Carl Jung told me.

I wanted Beyonce, and all of my life experienced had brought me to this moment with her. Listening to her sing a soothing song simply with each sign of life she displayed through her breaths, while wondering if all of the pain that my life consisted of would drive her away. For some reason, even with the signs pointing towards me and her never truly recovering from  my decision to break things off with her, I felt like things would be ok. It made me smile. It made me feel at peace.

I thought about one of the songs I grew to love when I was younger. I was still a snot nosed kid when it became one of my favorite records. And I felt overcome with nostalgia, so I decided to sing it softly into the receiver. I knew I had a terrible singing voice, but it didn’t matter. I softly whispered the first words of Let It Be, one of my mothers favorite songs by the Beatles.

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darknes
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

I didn’t even get to the chorus, and Beyonce was awoke, startled by my horrendous cover of the classic song.

“Shawn, what is that?” she laughed, sleepily.

“Let it beeeee, let it be, let it beeeee, let it be” I sang into the receiver.

“Yes please. LET IT BE. Let the song be, please” she teased.

“Sing it with me” I said.

“Let it be, Shawn” she said sternly.

“Whisper words of wisdom…Let it Beeeeeeee” I started again.

She laughed, “Ok, Ok. But I will lead, you just follow me, ok?”.

We sang the hook again together, I’m sure I ruined the harmony with my vocals, but after repeating the hook twice and stumbling over the words of the second verse we shared a morning laugh.

“Oh my God. We been on the phone for hours. You know how many minutes this is?” she said.

“If you can a lil bottle of lotion for 200, you can afford it”.

She laughed.

“You want some breakfast?” I asked her.

“I am hungry. I was going to send out for something” she said.

“Don’t you have a kitchen in your room?”

“Yeah, but I don’t ever use it. You know I can’t cook”.

“That’s a shame, Bee. Let me cook something for you” I suggested.

It seemed, at least to this point, yesterdays events had been forgotten. But even though I still remembered the pain of our past, I was happy inside to know that I could cry in front of her and sing to her and not be self conscious. I felt at ease, even after all of the bullshit.

“There is nothing to really cook. I haven’t been grocery shopping” she said.

“You got eggs, cheese, and veggies?” I asked.

“I have eggs. And I think it’s some of that other stuff in there. I’m not sure”.

“Let me make you an omelette” I said.

She hesitated, “I’m not sure…Shawn….”

“Let it be” I said, tongue in cheek.

She giggled at my joke.

“I hope I don’t regret this. Floor 5, room 12″.

I brushed my teeth, put on some new clothes, and almost ran out of my room. She had the door creaked open when I got there. I walked in and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Her room as a pig pen, clothes, suitcases, trash, everywhere.

“Beyonce” I said, as she made her way from the bathroom with a toothbruth in her mouth.

She already knew what time it was.

“I’m a messy person. You already knew that” she mumbled with toothpaste foam dripping from her mouth.

I frowned in disgust as she smiled.

“Could you finish that before talking?” I asked.

She rolled her twice, put a finger up, swallowed, let out a sigh, and said “Better?’

“Ughhhh” I commented as she went back into the bathroom and rinsed her mouth with water.

Beyonce could really be playful and childish at times, and as much as it made me shake  my head, it also made me more excited to be around her goofy ass.

I shook my head and stepped over the bags of shoes she had bought the other day, and made my way to her kitchen. It was bare, looking as if it hadn’t even been used since she had been there. What a goddamn shame. I went into the fridge and was almost shocked by how white and clear it was in there. She had a few diet sodas, a loaf of bread with only crumbs in it, and some takeout boxes sitting in the front. On the sides was some yogurt, poptarts, eggs, cheese slices, and butter.

I looked inside of the takeout box and saw some leftover celery and tomatoes that she never touched. I grabbed the butter, cheese, eggs, celery, and tomatoes. She walked over towards me after finishing getting her morning routine. We hadn’t been face to face in months, and we realized it when she reached the kitchen. We locked eyes, both hiding the smile that wanted to overtake our faces. She was a sight for sore eyes.

“So…” I said, not knowing what to say.

“So” she responded, just as empty headed.

I looked at her, smiled, and turned my attention towards my ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell is all of this for?” she asked, turning her attention towards what we were going to eat for breakfast.

“You ever ate an omelette?” I asked.

“No”.

I laughed, “Well, this is what we nigga rigged growing up. All you need is a few ingredients”.

“Can I just order in? They will bring me bacon, eggs, fresh orange juice and fruit and all that”.

“But that is cheating Bee. You got a perfect breakfast right here”.

She looked at me with those cautious eyes before they twinkled and she smiled. She sighed, and stood over by me near the counter.

“So what now?” she asked.

“First, I need you to cut on the cheese. Just rip it into little pieces” I said, hanging her the slices of cheese.

She had her eyebrow raised, and proudly displayed a picture perfect stank face, but I returned her stare with my own stern face. She rolled her eyes and did as I told her to do.

I grabbed a knife and cut up the celery and tomato pieces. By the time she was done ripping the cheese, complaining the entire time, I had managed to cut everything up and crack open the eggs and put them into a bowl.

“You are so spoiled” I said to her.

“Well” she said, brat like.

“Where are your people?” I asked.

“Who, my mom and dad? In Houston. I told them I wanted to come down by myself to record. My cousin Angie is down here too. But she is staying in another hotel. I told everyone I wanted my privacy so I could do this album right”.

I got the consistency of the eggs right as she spoke.

“And they let you out here all by yourself?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes.

“You know. They really let me have it after you….did what you did to me. Made me feel like a child all over again” she said.

“You told them about me?” I said, acting dumb.

“I did. Well, they kept asking about it at first cuz they were hearing rumors. I just told them the truth and that I wanted them to meet you”.

I motioned for her to put the ingredients in with the liquid half solid, half liquid egg that was on the hot pan.

“Do you still want me to meet them?”

She looked like I had spit in her face with that question.

“Uh, no. And have me feeling like a fool? Please. “

We watched as the egg made its transformation, and she looked intrigue by the magic of it all as I flipped it over as a half on a plate.

“Wallah” I said boastfully.

She grinned, “This looks so nasty”.

“Try it” I said, getting a fork to cut a piece.

“You try it” she said.

I cut a piece, took in the scent to milk the moment and then put it in my mouth, burning my damn tongue in the process. I managed to get it done, blowing and puffing as the heated food went down  my throat. She found this funny. We laughed. When it was her turn to taste it, she protested all the way up until she fork was an inch away from her mouth. She blew on it continuously, hoping not to duplicate my mistake, and quickly tossed it in her mouth. She frowned as she chewed, looking for any sign of an unsatisfied taste bud so she could spit it out. She found none, eventually swallowing it and going for another bite. We shared it and also a banana and talked about our favorite breakfast foods the rest of breakfast.

When the food was devoured and the topic of conversation ran it’s course, we found ourselves sitting on the couch, looking at each other, halfway speechless. I had so much to say to her, as I was sure she did as well. But I didn’t know where to start. I decided to begin with the one feeling that I knew was the truth.

“Bee, I have really missed you” I said.

“I missed you too” she responded, sheepishly.

“On a scale from 1 to 10. How mad are you at me, right now?” I asked.

She cocked her mouth to the side and pretended to think about it.

“About a 9 and a half” she smiled.

“Damn” I grinned back.

“Damn nothing. I was at a 100 yesterday”.

“But you had to be to sing that song, right? The one about being your own best friend” I said.

“I guess you can say that.”

“What was that song you were singing last night? Before I fell asleep”.

She giggled to herself.

“It’s called Dangerously In Love. It was actually a song that was suppose to go on my last album with the girls but they didn’t want to put it on there. For some reason, last night I kept thinking about it. Hell, I’m thinking of putting it on this album”.

“What’s the album called?”

“I don’t know yet. We are just recording different songs for it right now”.

“Let me name it” I playfully said.

“I’m open for suggestions” she smiled.

“How about….Jayonce” I laughed.

She laughed with me before saying, “NEXT”.

“Ok…um…How about…The Lone survivor” I said.

She thought about it before asking “Hmm..what does that one mean?”

“Well. After you kicked all them other girls out, now you are kicking Kelly and Michlle to the curb. You are the last one”.

She shook her head but kept smiling, “You are so wrong for that”.

“Ok, ok. For real. How about…”

“I don’t think I need anymore of your suggestions” she laughed.

“Nah. But how about you just name it Beyonce. Or something like I Am…Beyonce. Something that lets everyone know it’s a solo album” I suggested.

“Interesting. You don’t think that is kind of…showing off?” she asked.

“Nah. I think it’s personal. You should make a personal album, and the title should match it”.

“Why do you say I should make a personal album?”

“Because you’ve been through a lot. All of that pain can be used to make some great music that a lot of people could relate to”.

She nodded her head as if she agreed with what I was saying and then suddenly, she started staring at me. We had been gazing into each others eyes all morning, but this was a different stare. Not one of longing, or even lust. She seemed to be staring at me with another thought in mind. It was a zombie like trance, like she was being hypnotized. I waved my hands in front of her to snap her back to reality. I laughed as she regained her composure.

“You ok? You over there looking crazy right now”.

I didn’t know what I said that made her totally switch her demeanor, but she stood up and grabbed my hand. Had I done something wrong?

“Sorry, Shawn. You have to go. I will call you later, but I have to do this right now while it’s fresh in my head. Out”.

In almost a panic, she pushed my ass out of the room and closed the door in my face. I stood there for a  moment in a state of confusion. What the hell had just happened? I thought of knocking, but the couple walking out of the door across the hall made me change my mind. I didn’t want anyone to see me walking out of her room, so I turned around and made my way to my floor and room. After a few hours she finally texted me.

Received 10:35 AM: Goin 2 da studio…thank u 4 breakfast

Sent 10:37 AM: Um….ok…will i see u again 2day?

Received 10:39 AM: Don’t u have a meeting?

Sent 10:41 AM: Not if i have a date wit u 2day

Received 10:45 AM: lol idk wen i will be done…mite not be till midnight or later

Sent 10:47 AM: If u want…i’ll wait…

Received 10:55 AM: Ok…den i will c u later…

I sat in my hotel room, missed the flight to NY and my meeting with Dame, and potentially lost a few million dollars in the process. Beyonce stayed true to her word, as she was in the studio from before noon to a little past midnight, but afterwards she called me and we went down to the beach. Her bodyguard followed us as we walked, held hands, and mostly just enjoyed the night air and tides working together.

“You trust ole dude?” I asked, referencing her bodyguard.

“He won’t say anything. Trust me” she responded.

When our walk was over, we hugged; I squeezed her tight, holding off on the desires to kiss her.

“Thanks for visiting me. Even if it was for your own selfish reasons” she began grinning, “I was wrong when I said nothing good could come from it. I think something did”.

“What?” I asked as I looked down at her, the moon in the background.

“The return of my muse”.

“And friendship?” I chimed in.

She smiled, “Yes. And friendship”.

I kissed her on the forehead and we took separate rides back to the hotel. She went right to sleep; she had a recording session that morning and I had a flight back home. I had been confused, unnerved, and sorrowful when I arrived in Miami. As I left, I felt sure of myself. I really wasn’t that guy.

August 2002

My relationship with Bee over the next few months regained some of it’s old flair as we started texting back and forth and talking every now and then. Unlike last time though, she didn’t always return my calls or even my text. Her newfound level of independence was sexy to me, no longer clinging to me for all of her emotional support. Plus, she was a busy woman and was becoming even a bigger star than I was, with movies, hit singles, and her solo album well under way.

I started to see her much more in a business light, feeling as if it would help my own career if I did a few songs with her. We agreed that it would be a good marriage of musical styles, and we could promote it like a king and queen were coming together, make it epic. She had recorded with other rappers before, including an up and coming rapper named 50 Cent and Camron, who was signed to my label. But this would be something more refined, as two well known stars collabed together. We had visions of our singles being Grammy winners.

I thought about asking her if she ever f*cked 50 or Cam, but I thought against it. I decided I’d never ask her about something like that again, because it didn’t even matter. I tried to keep those thoughts anytime I became insecure about her past.

We sent ideas for songs back and forth through email and talked about it when we both had free time to chat, but with both of our albums coming up, we didn’t have much time to chat, and definitely no time to visit each other. We did eventually come to a song idea that we liked. It would be called Bonnie and Clyde, a track about if she and I became boyfriend and girlfriend.

I got the hook idea from a Tupac song and after hearing the beat for it that Kanye made, I knew it was a hit ready to happen, especially with Bee on it. Before we officially could agree to the track, I had to get clearance from her manager, which just happened to be her dad. It was a daunting task, to convince her father that the dude that broke his daughters heart just a few months back wanted to do business with her. But instead of coming at him like a prospective son in law, I came at him from the business side of things. Not as Shawn, but as Jay. I didn’t come at him like a daddy, but a manager.

“Hey Mr. Knowles, this is Jay” I said over the phone.

“Call me Matthew. So what exactly are we looking to do here?” he said, right down business.

“Kane West, one of the top young producers right now produced a track. I have the concept down for it, and it’s hit single material. I want Bee to sing the hook and the bridge. I think it would be good for both of us since I know her album is coming up soon. If this single goes well, I’d def want to return the favor by doing a guest spot on her joint…free of charge”.

“Free of charge huh? Why the generosity?”

And here we go. I knew I shouldn’t have added the free of charge part in here.

“I want to see her album do big numbers” I said.

He laughed.

“And why is that?”

I bit my tongue before I said anything irreconcilable.

“Matthew. You already know. Me and your daughter are good friends. I’ve recorded for friends free of charge many times. She is no different”.

“No different from who?” he asked.

“Friends” I said, with a slight attitude.

There was a long and ugly pause after this. We both were childishly skating around something that we should have just talked about like men. Women could do this to us, though.

“Jay. Beyonce has already decided she is going to do the song with you, no matter what I say. She has it made up in her mind, like she does everything nowadays. So what exactly are you searching for here?” he asked.

“I want your blessings, sir. With all due respect. You are her manager and her father, and I respect that. I don’t want there to be any conflict when it comes to this project”.

“You have full creative control over your music, right Jay?” he asked.

“I do”.

“Ok. Then if this song yall are working on is made into a music video. Then you have my full blessing. A video would be the promotion she needs” he said, all business like, skipping the fatherly blessing.

“I got you” I said.

We hung up. Our first conversation, full of contempt with millions of dollars at stake.

We got to work on the song immediately after, with a couple rewrites of the lyrics. We mostly worked on it through email, but she would call to sing her part to me to let me know if I liked it or wanted something changed. We could have done the entire song through email, but with the song being about becoming a couple, we thought it would be more authentic and powerful if she came out to New York to record it with me in the studio.

I loved the idea and not just because I was dying to see her. But I had seen this girl in almost every mode possible, but I had never quite seen her in grind mode. I wanted to work with her, feed off her artistic energy and flare. Watch as the magic in the studio unfolds. There was something about recording in studio that sending vocals through email could not duplicate. I had recorded with many artist before, from hip hop icons like Rakim and Biggie to r&b stars like Mary J and Mya, but this was unlike any of them.

She flew out and met me, Kanye, and a few other producers in the studio. She didn’t like for a lot of people to be around when she recorded so I made the non-working niggas in the studio leave. That meant the weed men, the posse, and Ty Ty and them. I was shocked how so many of them were only there because they wanted to meet Beyonce and get her autograph. Grown men, mind you.

Bee took it in stride, playfully laughing it off. She was a star, the biggest star in the room, which was something I wasn’t use to. It was surreal watching her demand everyones attention. Kanye had met her before, so he gave her a hey, dont you remember me hug; she only gave him a church hug though.

After the theatrics of her arriving and me throwing everyone that wasn’t involved in the project out, we got down to work after she finished texting and laughing about something that apparently was funny. I never wrote my lyrics, but I had written down concepts, the hook, and the bridge for the song. But I wanted the sights and smells and smile of Bee to inspire my vocals. When we shook hands as if we didn’t have a relationship past that, I felt inspired to throw off all of her clothes. But with Kanye smirking, I knew that couldn’t happen. Hell, B and I were just friends at this point, anyway.

Kanye put on the instrumental, and Beyonce went right in and recorded her vocals. She tried not to look at me while she was in the booth, but she was, I saw it out of the corner of her eye. I had already laid down the vocals for the hook and she filled in the dry spots with her own vocals. The hook only took half an hour or so and she moved on to the bridge. Kanye nodded his head as she recorded, which caused her to break out in a smile a few times.

It took a few takes because of all of the nervous energy, butterflies, and laughs that were surrounded the studio, but she eventually got her parts down perfectly. In the meantime I was writing the lyrics down in my head, watching her sing. I had to step outside and smoke a joint at one point because her gaze was causing me to lose focus. I couldn’t concentrate on anything with her looking so good, even if it was just blue jeans and a white V neck shirt.

Received 7:13 PM: J..pleeeeeease come back….

Sent 7:14 PM: lol, y

Received 7:16 PM: Kanye is going 2 bore me to death…he keeps talkin n talkin n talkin….help!

I laughed, took one last puff and returned to the studio where she was sitting down looking at her phone and Kanye was talking about his favorite subject, himself.

“And I was sure that using Michael Jackson as a sample would-”

I cut him off, “Ye man she don’t wanna hear all that shit” I laughed.

He looked at me and then at her. She was smiling wide eyed.

“Oh shit. Was I talking too much?” he said, his goofy smile creeping through.

“No, you were fine. I don’t know what Jay is talking about” she said looking at me.

“Ye get your ass back on the computer so we can finish this track, nigga.”

I went into the booth, and almost caught stage fright as Bee stared at me anxiously. She had never sat in on me rapping before, and since my lyrics would be about whatever she inspired me to say, I was a bit nervous. More nervous than I should have been. When the instrumental hit, I stared at her, she smiled, and I got ready to spit my first verse.

“You ready Bee?” I said, pointing through the glass of the recording booth with the track playing.

“Lets go get em” I winked.

She shook her head, still grinning, and threw up a fake gang sign, trying to be hood. I knocked out my first verse in only two takes.

I was ready to knock out my second verse but Kanye wasn’t having it.

“Jay man I’m hungry than a mug. I’m bout to head down to the Chinese place.”

“I only got another verse” I said.

“Yeah but I got to mix and all that shit. I got a long night ahead of  me and I need to eat. I ain’t ate since this  morning” he said, holding his stomach.

I looked at Bee who shrugged her shoulders.

“Aight man. But hurry up. I wanna hear the track tonight, before Bee has to leave”.

“Aight. I’ll be back in like an hour” he said.

The other producer in the studio decided to go get something to eat as well, leaving just Bee and I in the studio. For the first five minutes or so, we just smiled and remained silent. I sat down next to her as she played with her phone, texting or just randomly pressing buttons, I couldn’t tell.

“Let me see that” I ended up saying, grabbing her phone.

She tried to snatch it away but I was too quick. She pouted “Give me that back”.

“Let me go through your text” I said.

“Uh…no” she responded.

“What? You got something to hide?” I asked, pretending to be looking in her inbox.

“No, I don’t. We ain’t together. It’s just my privacy. How about you let me read your text messages?” she countered.

With her phone in one hand, extended away from her reach, I quickly went in my pocket and tossed her my phone.

“The password is Jazzy” I said to her, knowing good and well I deleted every text.

This brought a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Whatever, give me back my phone” she said.

“Well damn. I guess you do have something to hide” I said, handing it back to her.

She looked in my eyes with some mean ass eyes and made her mouth match the mean assness of her gaze.

“You really believe that?” she asked.

Damn, I wasn’t trying to be serious. Guess she wasn’t taking it like that.

“Ma, i’m f*cking with you” I said.

“No. Here. Go through it” she said handing the phone back to me.

“I don’t want to Bee. I don’t want to read it” I said.

“No, I want you to. Go through it, cuz I think deep down you do have those thoughts”.

“What thoughts?”

“Like you don’t trust me”

“Wait what? We aren’t even dating, Bee. What trust got to do with it?”

“Dont play dumb. Even though we ain’t dating, you would still feel some type of way if I was chatting it up with other niggas. I know this”.

“I really wouldn’t” I lied.

“Here, Shawn. Read em”.

Since I wouldn’t take the phone, she put it in my face and clicked over to her outbox. She scrolled past her text with me till she got to the last person she had sent a text to. It was Angie, her cousin.

Sent 5:25 PM: girl…i dont even kno

“Bee, you ain’t gotta prove nothing to me” I begin.

She disregarded my statement and went to the next text.

Sent 5:21 PM: i keep thinkin bout dem Os…..i want em bad

My eyebrow raised when I saw this one. Huh?

“The hell is this about?” I asked.

She smirked, went to the next text.

Sent 5:08 PM: he kicked all his friends out…im so horny rite now being roun him….n it was so sexy how he threw dem all out…i wanna take da dicc rite now lmao

She dropped the phone in my lap and rolled her eyes.

“If you want to read about Angies cramps, how horny i am rite now, n my momma askin me am i ok then read on” she said.

She was looking at me with a real slick look. Like she was right and I was wrong about the whole trust issue. I wasn’t even concerned about that. I was more concerned about the horny part of her text. Was she really in the studio texting her cousin, talking about how she wants to f*ck me? Is this what women do on the low? Just as trifling as we were, but played it off like they were innocent.

“You really horny right now?” I asked her.

She didn’t reply, just sighed and looked towards the other side of the room. What a passive aggressive  move on her part. She couldn’t just show me those text and not expect me to dissect them.

“Can I admit something to you?” I asked.

She looked at me, and waited.

“I’m horny too” I smiled.

“Shocker” she sarcastically said.

“Wait, it’s bad if I am but not if you are?” I asked.

“I didn’t say it was bad. But just because I am….desiring you sexually don’t mean it’s gonna happen. I do have standards”.

“Standards that talk about what you wanna do to me through text? I think i meet your standard quite well” I laughed.

“See, you are too arrogant for the truth. Men can be so dumb about everything. Stay humble and don’t talk and yall might get more action than you get. Yall just mess up things when yall talk”.

“So you planned to give me some, is what you are saying?”

“You will never know, now” she rolled her eyes.

“Aww, don’t be like that Bee” I laughed.

“Whatever. I don’t need to be doing anything with you anyway”.

“And why not?”

“We been going good as friends for months now. Why mess it up with sex?”

“I see it differently. We are good friends and we are attracted to each other, so why not share our love for each other?”

“Jay, you don’t love me”.

I intended for this convo to be light hearted, but she wasn’t taking it that way.

“Bee, I do love you. I’m not gonna lie anymore and try to quantify it or make definitive statements. But I unconditionally care for you. You are one of my best friends, for real. I don’t know what will happen between us or anything. But I know I will always love you, like best friends love each other” I said.

“So its a friend type of love, huh”.

“What other love is there?” I asked.

We looked into each others eyes and before she could protest, I moved my face closer to hers. I kissed her gently on the lips, something that hadn’t happened since earlier in the year. She wanted to fight me, but she didn’t. We kissed, our lips tightening their grips as my tongue slowly dipped into her mouth. When my hands moved down her back she backed away.

“I don’t want anyone to see us kissing” she said.

“They won’t” I said, moving closer.

“Shawn, no. I’m not trying to get caught”.

A few minutes of silence passed, and I got up and walked over to Kanye’s computer. I still had to mentally write my second verse for the song, so I put on the instrumental which filled the speakers of the studio. It was then I knew I wasn’t going to let Bee have her way, at least not totally. I walked over to her while she sat on the couch, hand on her chin, watching me watch her.

“What?” she asked.

“I want you. Bad” I said.

She sighed and turned her eyes towards the floor. To meet her eyes I dropped to the floor on my knees. She seemed surprised by this as we caught eyes. She smirked at my antics.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I walked on my knees closer to her and grabbed her hands.

“Stay still” I softly said.

She looked towards the door, which was unlocked, and whispered for me to get up. I wasn’t hearing it. I took one hand and put it on her thigh, rubbing it. I remembered her hot spots, the spots that would send her over the edge. One spot was her right inner thigh. I started rubbing through her jeans as she moaned and attempted to make me stop. There would be no stopping.

I quickly capitalized on the moment and went for her jeans button with my other hand.

“Shawn, NO” she loudly whispered.

I kept going. If she really wanted me to stop, she had the power to. I yanked at the button and it came apart from the loop. After a small tug at her zipper, it was down and I could see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. She covered herself and attempted to zip the sipper back up.

“Shawn no. Kanye is coming back in a few minutes” she continued whispering. I didn’t know why she was whispering.

“Ye won’t be back for another 45 minutes. Dude is always late anyway” I said.

She leaned her head back and looked over at the door as I unzipped her pants yet again. The base of her crotch was exposed and she wasn’t shaved. I smirked to  myself. There was no way she could honestly say she didn’t plan to sleep with me on this business trip. Not with a freshly shaven vagina. I went for the sides of her jeans as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She was breathing hard at this point.

“Oh my God” she said softly, still a loud whisper.

I begin pulling her jeans down, still on my knees and she sat up a bit so I could get them past her ass. She wanted this. I pulled until they were to her ankles and she sat back on the couch, looking at the door, ready to quickly pull up her pants if someone were to walk in. The instrumental continued playing as I bent my head inbetween her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs.

“Oh my God. Oh My God” she said barely above a whisper.

Was she calling for God, or Hova? I smiled to myself as I guided my kisses from the inside of her thighs to her knee caps to the top of her thighs and then to her belly. I licked her naval, and she put her hands on my head pushing me to go south.

“So you do want this, right?” I asked.

She looked to the door and sighed hard, pushing me head forcefully to answer my question. I met her pussy with my tongue, inserting it inside just to get a taste of her juices. My taste buds danced with the flavor, as my mouth went in for more. I licked and kissed around her lips and then dipped my tongue inside her pussy in a rhythmic repetition. Her clit was the next target, as I let my mouth latch on to it and gently suck as if it was a nipple.

For me to get better access, she sat back on the sofa and spreaded her legs in the air. I went underneath her legs and jeans and settled in the middle as I ate her pussy until she came to orgasm. One orgasm wasn’t enough, as I remembered how she said she wanted the O’s which meant more than one. So I continued eating, losing track of time. Kanye could have walked in, or my other producer, or any number of people involved with the project. But neither of us submitted to the fears. We instead embraced the excitement of potentially getting caught. Her pussy tasted just as good as the danger that was in the air. The allure of it was too much to leave alone.

After she had her second orgasm, she pushed me off her and quickly pulled up her pants, eyes locked on the door.”Jay…JAY. SHIT” she said to me, out of breath.I wiped my mouth and smiled, not really believing what had happened. I checked the wall and realized a nearly 45 minutes had passed since Kanye left. He would be back anytime now.Beyonce ran to the door, peaked out to see if anyone was coming and I went inside of the booth to get ready to record my verse. I figured our little sexual episode was finished until later that night. My dick was pressed against my pants but I figured I’d work through my erection and be ready to f*ck Bee silly when we left. Bee had other plans, though.She walked ran into the booth with me and pushed me against the glass.”Kanye should be back any second now” I said.

“I just want a taste” she said with a stunning confidence that surprised the f*ck out of me.

The rational side of me wanted to decline her request, but I doubt there was a man in the world that could have rejected what she wanted. She got on her knees, unzipped my pants and dropped them to my knees. She didn’t have to wait for my erection to meet her, as it was in full salute already. I looked down at her as she looked at the door and took a breath. She looked up at me, seductively grinned, and put her mouth on the tip of my dick, eyes still glued on mine.

I lost it, leaning back against the glass, and trying not to pass out from the warmth of her mouth on the most sensitive part of my body. What made it all the more crazy was she refused to take her eyes off me. She started sucking with full confidence, not even worried about checking the door. She locked eyes with me as she sucked, as if she was finding pleasure in the bewildered look in my eyes. I looked towards the door, afraid and sure that we were going to be caught, but still refusing to stop what was happening. I might have even hyperventilated as she slowly worked her neck muscles with my dick in her mouth.

I was normally a pro at giving head. I could last for hours if I wanted, but after only a couple minutes of this, I felt it coming. I was about to explode a flow of moisture that would put Niagara falls to shame. I braced myself by putting my hands against the glass and locked my knees so I wouldn’t pass out.

“I’m….bout…to cum…” I said, which only made her suck faster and more violently, her eyes still glued on my face.

I looked down, saw her, and was unable to hold it any longer. I closed my eyes and felt the life drain out of my urethra and into this womans warm, moist, mouth. I exploded.  No I bombed. No I Nuked. No I supernovaed. Shit, I BIG BANGED into her with all of the force of the birth of the cosmos.

And it was at that moment I heard Kanye yelling something to someone down the hall. Beyonce heard it as well as she nearly chocked, standing up with the gallon of nut still in her mouth. She had never swallowed before, as far as I was concerned, but there was no other option as I yanked my pants up and Kanye came walking into the door, backfirst, still talking to someone.

When he turned around he saw me looking at him sweating with my pants looking wrinkled, and Beyonce in the booth with me with a mouth full of…something. I heard the gulp as she swallowed, but my eyes remained on the shocked man standing at the door.

“Yall just got through f*cking or something?” he asked, grinning wide eyed.

I tried to play it off by laughing but I was out of breath. Bee was still getting over the mouthful she just gulped down.

“Nah…we…were just practicing” I said.

He looked over at the computer which was playing the instrumental and I saw him weigh my statement in his head. He couldn’t logically believe what i was telling him. But I think he was having a hard time believing the alternative too, that I had f*cked Beyonce in the booth. It became a situation of which story was more believable. He shrugged his shoulders and walked towards us.

I looked at Beyonce and noticed a thick, milky, drop on her lower lip. I looked at her in shock, and quickly wiped me own mouth so she would get what I was trying to tell her. She looked confused at first, but once she really focused in on my sign language she got the hint. Her mouth dropped as she wiped her mouth, frowning her face at the leftover semen and walking out of the booth saying she was going to the restroom.

When she left, Kanye looked at me with his arms crossed. Kanye was a smart dude. He knew what really had went down. His smirk, along with my smirk, caused him to burst out into laughter.

“Nigga, I can’t WAIT to hear your second verse now” he nearly screamed.

Kanye was there; the moment Beyonce and I officially became attached at the hip, literally and figuratively. The next few months would cement our relationship.

Story Finale

But the next few hours would cement our relationship. There were awkward giggles and smiles for the duration of the studio session, especially when Beyonce came back from the bathroom, but we managed to get the track done. Kanye played it back for us several times and I knew it would be a hit. There was too much magic put into that track for it not to become a billboard topper.

And per Matthews wish, I was also going to make it a music video. I was busy thinking about how to market this record when I noticed Kanye wasn’t done with his smirking. When Bee left, I was sure this fool would be asking all kinds of questions. I was private and didn’t do much kissing and telling, but I knew Ye wouldn’t have been satisfied until he got a straight up answer. He had a crush on her, and seeing us in that booth probably crushed his feelings.  It was comical.

The same could be said for the look on Beyonce’s face in the aftermath. It looked as if 90% of the blood in her body was circulating through her face, as the blushing told secrets that she was trying to hide. Even after two orgasms, well three including the one she nearly gagged on, I could tell her body was still fiending for more. It was a torturous moment for everyone in the studio to be working on a project when our minds were all in the clouds.

“Yall want a CD of it so far?” Kanye asked, looking at her instead of the both of us.

“Sure” she responded, nodding her head.

He made the CD, with a crooked smile on his face. I turned to her and whispered in her ear.

“You hurt the boy feelings, you know that?”

She covered her mouth and giggled, which only irked Kanye even more. He didn’t show it though, but I knew him enough to know that look. Even though we were both sitting right next to each other on the sofa, she decided to text me. High School shit, but fitting given the past few hours.

Received 9:53 PM: Can I come back 2 ur crib?

I looked over at her and chuckled to myself. She pushed me on the shoulder, and Kanye stared on.

Sent 9:54 PM: Ty coming to pick me up…u gon ride with us?

Received 9:54 PM: No..i cud get a ride there

Sent 9:55 PM: U already kno im down…

Received 9:56 PM: ;D

We laughed once more and Kanye came over handing each of us a plastic CD case with the unfinished version of our song in it. He was smiling at us, eyeing us both with question after question floating in his head.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on. But…I’m jealous” he said, in a super funny but serious tone.

We all giggled, Beyonce blushing in the process.

“Yall want to go and get a drink or something?” he asked.

I looked over at Bee, who had already turned to me, then we both looked at Ye.

“Nah. I have to get back to the hotel. I’m kind of tired” Beyonce said.

“Yeah Ye. It’s been a long day and I gotta be up in the morning. Next time though for sure”.

I gave Ye dap and Bee gave him a hug and I called Ty met me a few minutes later. I gave Beyonce a hug, while Ty watched and smiled, and we went our separate ways.

Soon as I got in the car, Ty was all up in my business. He was the one cat I could trust with my personal business, so I only fronted like I wasn’t going to tell him what’s up.

“So…” he said.

“So…what?”

“You and Bee?”

“Me and Bee what?” I laughed.

“Jay” he barked.

I laughed at how the whole world seemed to be so curious about Bee and I. Maybe this was foreshadowing.

“Ty”

“Know what. F*ck you then nigga” he laughed.

“Me and Bee just made a business decision to record together. Nothing more, nothing less”.

“You sure? That hug looked a little more than business”.

“You know me Ty. I don’t mix business and pleasure. Ain’t nothing going on” I said.

He gave me the suspicious eye, and ended up dropping the convo and taking me home. He was in for a surprise when we got there, as Beyonces driver was already there. Ty mean mugged the hell out of me when he saw her waiting for me at the crib. I just erupted into laughter. I was having fun with this, more fun that I should have been having.

“I’ll tell you the details tomorrow” I said before giving him pound.

He just shook his head and grinned, “You know you ain’t shit right?” he said.

I exited the car nodding my head and walked over to the car where Beyonce was in the backseat, staring me down. She had a bag with her, so I assumed she would be staying the night. Great, just like old times I thought. She thanked her personal driver, told him not to help her with the bags and sent him on his way. We quickly made our way up my driveway, not saying a word until both of our drivers were gone.

We stepped inside into my dark home and I hit the lights. The high voltage bulb couldn’t compare to the bright smile on her face. The last time she had been over was when we had a sex filled weekend, which turned out to be the last time we had sex. But even though we just had gotten through orally f*cking each other, this was feeling like the first time all over again.

Maybe she was playing hard to get or was just trying to milk the anticipation, but we ended up going over to the couch and talking.

“It’s been a minute since I’ve been over here. Nothing has changed much” she said.

“Maybe not to the crib. But I think a lot has changed with the people inside of it” I responded.

“You think so?” she smiled.

“I think so”.

“Like?”

“I think we’ve both grown up a bit.”

She just looked at me.

“You gonna offer me a drink?” she asked.

I remembered how when we first started talking, I didn’t want her drinking because of the effects it had on her. But now, I didn’t have those reserves. She was a woman that could make decisions without the aid of a drink. I trusted her decision making now.

I fetched us a bottle of Champagne and two wine glasses. She popped the cork and did the honor of pouring. I sat back and admired the girl. I really had missed being around her.

“Toast?” she smiled, lifting up her glass.

“What are we toasting to?” I asked.

“Bonnie and Clyde 03″ she said.

Business as usual with this woman. I lifted up my drink, we clinked, and sipped.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” I said, tongue in cheek.

“You know, Ima be 22 next month. I expect some type of birthday gift” she said.

“You know I got you, Bee” I said confidentially, even though I had totally forgot about it. No need for me to mess up anything by letting her know her birthday slipped my mind.

“Remember the first time I came over here?” she asked, looking over in the direction of the kitchen.

“Do I?” I said, laughing.

“I replay what I remember about that night all the time. “

I listened, figuring she was going somewhere with it.

“And, like I want to be really embarrassed about what happened. But the more I try to think of it as a bad night, the more I appreciate you for what didn’t happen. You did something, that I just don’t see many guys doing. I never forgot about that night or that morning. Even after you cut me off. I never forgot about how you made me feel that morning when I left”.

“How did you feel?” I asked.

“In love. Crazy In Love” she said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. At least not orally. I reached over for her hand and grabbed it. She peaked at me briefly, and then looked back away, avoiding eye contact. I felt her hands trembling.

“You know. I wanted to make love to you that morning, but I didn’t want you to think bad about me. I’ve always been worried about what you thought about me” she said.

“Why?”

“Cuz I wanted to impress you. Professionally and intellectually and everything.”

“You impressed me by just being you. That’s what I love most about you. That I can’t pigeon hole you into anything. I’m still regretting that I took that for granted” I said.

She smiled and bit her lip.

“You remember when I kicked you out of my hotel?”

“When?” I said.

She laughed, “You acting like i’ve kicked you out of my hotel more than once”.

“You mean the day I cooked for you?”

She nodded, “You know the reason why?”

“Nah, I was wondering if I had did something wrong”.

“No. You did everything right” she smiled.

“Bee. You ain’t making any sense right now. Speak english”.

She laughed again and took a sip of her wine.

“My producers gave me a track to write to. Like, you have to hear it, the beat is so fresh.”

“Hit material?” I asked.

“I think so, definitely. On both the hip hop and pop charts” she said.

“So….”

“Ok, so well. I had been having trouble writing to it. And that morning. Something you said when i was thinking gave me the melody for the hook. I wrote down the idea, took it to the studio and we ended up writing the song that day.”

“What is it called?”

“Crazy In Love” she said, blushing.

“How original” I laughed.

“Don’t make fun. I want you to be on it”.

“You mean as a feature?”

“No, I mean as a dancer” she rolled her eyes.

“I can dance” I laughed.

“See, you aren’t even taking my serious” she said.

She was serious and a bit protective over her career so I decided not to make fun anymore. I truly was flattered to have her writing and singing songs about me. I guess the only way I knew how to deal with it was joking about it. I guess that was my nature. I had grown up, but there were always insecurities there. Dealing with Beyonce having such strong feelings for me was one of them.

“I’d be happy to be on your record, Bee” I said.

“Hopefully the magic that happened on the track we recorded today can be duplicated” she said.

I couldn’t tell if that was innuendo or if she was serious. Her straight face suggested she didn’t mean anything by it, but the obviousness of her statement seemed to be a little to upfront to not mean anything. I smiled while she remained serious.

“Yeah…magic”.

She tried to remain neutral, but that smile came out. And with it came my urge to move closer to her. I put my glass down and moved in. I couldn’t wait any longer for us to do what we came to do. I went in for the kiss, but she stopped me.

“What are you doing?” she smiled.

I looked around and then looked at her, like you cant be serious.

“Hard to get?” I asked.

“Maybe” she responded.

I began to open my mouth but she added on, “Or maybe not”.

I sat up and stared at her, wondering what she was trying to get at.

“Shawn, babe. Before we do this, and we’re going to regardless so don’t worry” she laughed.

I felt a sense of relief.

“I want to know, what you want from this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ok. I know you want sex tonight. I want it too, so I’m not worried about that. But aside from that, going forward what do you want? Honestly”.

“Be more specific” I said.

“Shawn. I want to be with you. I want to be your girl. Your woman, your one and only woman. I want us to have a committed relationship, not just be friends with benefits. Is that something you want also? Be honest”.

I had to digress from the question in my head. I had no problem answering the question. I had pondered that same question in my head for months on end. Being apart from Bee made me feel like I was missing something. The sex I was having with other women was lacking. I knew the answer to her question and I knew it would be the truth when it came out of my mouth, I was confident in it. But why did women do this?

Why did women want to have clarity right before sex? Did they really believe the average dude would tell them something other than what they wanted to hear? Would a horny man not say he loved her if she asked him, while laying in bed? There were only two answers that could come from a guys mouth. And only one answer generally would lead to sex. What man in his right mind would choose the path that didn’t lead to warm pussy and titties bouncing in his face? Are you f*cking kidding me?

“Be honest, Jay” she said to me, ironically, the last thing a chick should say in this situation.

Fortunately for her, the answer for me was both what she wanted to her and the truth.

“I want to the same thing you want, Beyonce. I want to be with you”.

“Just me?” she said, looking to confirm.

“Just you.”

She smiled but quickly stopped herself.

“Aww, so you want to be my….boyfriend?”

I laughed at her silly question, but answered anyway.

“Yep. And I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Awwww” she said, fully turning this little conversation into a butterfly filled chick flick.

“Come on Bee. Don’t make me change my mind” I grinned.

She sat back in the chair, seductively crossed her leg and looked at me with eyes I couldn’t believe belonged to her usually innocent ass.

“You sure…you want to change your mind?”

My dick jumped out of my boxers and hit the zipper of my jeans. I jumped from the pinch, but was more focused in on the woman leaning back, waiting for me to pounce. It was on.

I moved in, and she immediately met me halfway, our kisses starting off hard and violent. Our quick, deliberate kisses were suppose to be a level of foreplay, but after she had sucked my dick and I had eaten her pussy, I guess we figured we could slide past that part. My mouth moved to her neck, as her hands moved to my shirt. She ripped my $150 shirt like Hulk Hogan ripped his shirt off during his entrance, and with little regard for it, tossed it the hell away from her. Two could play that game. I tried to rip open her shirt, but was met with resistance. I tugged a few more times and only got a few strands of the material to unravel. The hell.

She laughed at me not being able to rip if off and kissed me on the cheek as I kept tugging at it. She eventually brought the shirt to her mouth and she bit the crease until it had parted a few inches. After she helped get it open, I used both hands to rip that shit off. There, I had matched her sexual aggression.

We removed the rest of our clothes ourselves, but she pulled out her own condom from her purse. Damn, looks like she really did come prepared. She laid back and put the condom on, and I jumped in that pussy like an Olympic diver. Her juices soaked my sofa, turning the spot we f*cked on into a puddle. She eventually rolled me back and climbed on top, riding me as we kissed and stared into each others lust filled eyes.

I figured we were going to do this until we climaxed but once again this woman was proving to me that could totally flip the script at any time. She sucked my ear lobe, licked the side of my face and then stopped me from bouncing her with her hands. I looked at her and she grinned.

“I came prepared”.

She slid off me and bent over, giving me a thirst inducing view of her ass/pussy combo, and picked up her bang. She unzipped it, and to my surprise it wasn’t filled with clothes. The first thing I saw her pull out was a video camera, which she placed on the table. Next came handcuffs, then whip cream, then chocolate syrup, and finally body oil.

The look on my face must have been what she had been hoping for because she grinned confidentially when she looked at me.

“Bee?” was all I could say.

“No talking” she smiled.

She turned on the video camera and mounted it on a small tripod, facing directly at me. I was afraid of what she had planned but was completely under her spell. I let her take control as she came over towards me with the body oil.

“I kinda did this backwards. But I wanted to massage you like you did me” she said.

“Um…ok” I said, still unsure of all of this shit.

“Turn around” she smiled.

“On my stomach?” I asked.

“Yeah, Shawn. Turn around and lay on your stomach”.

“I don’t know about all of that, Bee” I said.

“Shawn…turn…around…lay…flat” she sternly said this time.

I looked at her and assessed. This was scary, but strangely erotic. Almost too erotic. Was this what she had in store for me, in our newly formed relationship? I looked at her the entire time as I turned around on my stomach.

“Relax.” she said, in a more upbeat voice.

I took a deep breath and listened to what she was saying, closing my eyes as the body oil begin dropping on my back. She took her time rubbing it in, staying in one place. It felt good, for the time being. But I was worried about her trying something too freaky for my ass.

“Don’t put nothing in my bootyhole, Bee” I said, opening my eyes and turning my head.

She laughed, “Oh, stop whining. Relax” she smiled.

“I’m serious” I said.

She poured more body oil on my back and and looked back at the camera.

“Why you recording this anyway?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I’m deleting it right after. Just thought it would be kind of exciting”.

I guess the answer sounded good enough to my ears, as I laid back down and let her massage me up. She rubbed my neck and I could feel the oil doing it’s magic. It was a body oil one would get from a sex shop, as were the cuffs, I assumed.

Eventually she rubbed my shoulders and arms, lifting them up so she could oil it 360 degrees. It felt good, how meticulous she was being in taking her time, but it was all a trick, which I should have known. Instead of putting my arms back down at my side, she let them drop on my back and before I realized what the hell she was doing I felt cold steel on my wrist. Honestly, how could I have not see this one coming?

She laughed, and smacked my ass cheek, as I squirmed.

“Bee” I said.

“Shawn, relax. You always control the sex. Let me have control of it just this once” she said.

“Girl, are you letting your inner freak out or something? You have something you want to tell  me?”

She giggled.

“Babe. Trust me”.

I laid back down with my hands cuffed behind my back and sighed. Was this what it was going to be like with this woman as my woman? Be afraid, Jay, was all I could think about.

She oiled me down quickly after she had me cuffed up, from my neck to my feet. She rubbed her breast on my back, which felt really good, the tip of her nipples clearly poked against my flesh.

“Shawn. I’m doing to do something I always wanted to do. Don’t trip, ok?”

I raised my head up but she pushed me back down gently. She was smiling as she grabbed the whip cream. As much as I wanted to protest, I wanted to know what she had in mind with whip cream and an oiled up boyfriend cuffed on the couch. I laid back down although I kept my eyes open.

I wasn’t prepared for the whip cream to get sprayed all over my ass, from the cheek to the crack. It was cold, and foamy, and something I had never felt before. I caught a cramp in my back as I tensed up and started squirming again. I couldn’t see her anymore, she was on her knees licking up the whip cream off my cheeks.

“Beyonce, what…” damn, the shit felt good.

But I had to regain my composure before her tongue found the place where the sun don’t shine. But she kept licking the whip cream up with her tongue, and I kept feeling an intense, unusual pleasure, that was foreign and freaky. Just like when I knew Beyonce could have stopped me from pulling down her jeans if she really wanted me to stop, I knew I could have stopped her if I wanted to.

I guess the truth was, I didn’t want her to. She licked my asshole and I buried my face into my couch and screamed. I couldn’t breath, feeling violated but turned on by this girl, who was a freak. No more questions about it, she was even freakier than I was. Her hands rubbed my cheeks as she licked around, swallowing whip cream. I didn’t even remember that all of this was being recorded until, I turned around and saw the red light blinking, the lens looking right at me.

My dick was rock hard, and I needed to feel her again. I couldn’t take this freak shit anymore.

“Uncuff me, Bee” I said.

She laughed, “Have I been a naughty girl?”

“Yes. And I’m gonna punish you”.

She pouted for a bit and uncuffed me, pretending to be afraid. I sat up, feeling weird because of my now moist ass and the mess we had already made.

“How you gonna punish me?” she asked.

I grabbed everything that was on the table, and made her get the camera, and we made our way upstairs to my bedroom. Once inside the pitch black room, I threw her on the bed, and set up the camera. I realized it had night vision, exactly what I was hoping for. I looked through the lens and saw Beyonce, green like, sitting on the bed. With the camera still in my hand and walked over to her, and picked up the whip cream from the bag. The cream went over her tits, and the chocolate syrup went on her nipple. I made sure the camera had a good view of this dessert, before I got my sweet tooth on.

It tasted so good, I decided to have seconds.  But not with her tits, I turned her ass around, mounted the tripod on the nightstand and sprayed more whip cream and chocolate on her ass. Time to return the favor, as I dove in like a contestant in a pie eating contest, licking her ass, almost choking on the cream and chocolate, running down my throat.

And for the next few hours, Beyonce and I put every porn scene in the world to shame, f*cking from the bed, to my bathroom, and leaving a body sized chocolate stain on my white wall. In the middle of me hitting her doggystyle on the floor, she got a call. I pretended like I’d let her answer as she crawled over to her cell and announced that it was her dad, but when she spoke into the phone I hoped back on top and slid back in.

She gasped, trying to kick me off and run from it, but I just scooted back in and kept pounding. Eventually, unable to overcome my strength, she took it and tried not to scream out.

“Dad….I’m…..good” she said, losing her breath which each stroke.

I grabbed her hair, a risky move considering she was a black woman, but I think it only turned up the heat even more.

“I’m fine….just got..through working out” she managed to say in an almost even toned sentence.

The fact that she could talk irritated me, so I scooted up even more, allowing all of me to fit inside of her. Like that, she moaned out, and dropped the phone on the carpet.

“Throw that diamond up” I said softly, as I stroked.

I could hear the hellos from the cell, but I kept going.

“Throw the diamond up” I told her again.

Before she reached for the phone, she threw up my Rocafella sign, cementing that she was mine. It was the sexiest moment of our sex filled night. I slid out, she picked up the phone and looked at me with intense eyes as she lied to both of her parents, saying she dropped the phone cuz she saw a roach. They said something about demanding the hotel refund the money, while I danced in front of her naked. She couldn’t wait to rush her people off the phone and punish me for my shenanigans.

When she did hang up, I found her sitting on my face, making me repent for my sins. I repented and was baptized by her pussy juice.

By the time both of us had came multiple times, we were in the tub, in a bath-full of steaming water, since it was the only place in my house other than the kitchen without chocolate and whip cream covering it. She laid on me naked as we recovered from a night of sex unparalleled to anything we had ever experienced, as far as I was concerned.

I kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes.

“You too tired to talk to me?” I asked.

She lazily answered, “I’m exhausted, Jay. Speechless”.

“Exhausted? Girl, we only f*cked for, like 3 hours” I joked.

She grunted, and remained silent.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow” she eventually said with her eyes still closed.

“Then don’t leave” I whispered.

“I can’t do that. I have to find a way to balance what we have with my career. I can’t put one above the other” she said.

I loved the way she said this. I loved her maturing attitude.

“True that” I said.

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“Nah. Your career is important.”

“Yeah, but so is what we have. I don’t want it to be where we only see each other…a few times every few months or something”.

“We just have to make the time we do have together count. Like tonight” I grinned.

“We might not be able to see each other for a while. My schedule is booked up. So I wanted tonight to go a long way to helping keep us going” she said.

“Where did all of that freak shit even come from?” I laughed.

She smiled, eyes still closed, and kissed my chest.

“Just a lot of things I always wanted to try. Decided, what the hell. Why not when I go up there.”

“I ain’t never seen you so confident sexually, till tonight. You had some practice or something?” I said, curious.

She smiled, “That’s for me to know. Just know the only person I will be practicing with is you”.

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“I’m not gonna ask you what you did the past few months. I don’t even wanna know” she said to me.

When she said this, I was reminded of what my mom had said. I realized how alike they actually were. And I realized I didn’t want to be bitter or suspicious or accusatory like my dad. I realized I didn’t want my mind to always be playing tricks on me. So I dropped it, and decided to focus on the future. A future with Bee by my side. I kissed the side of her head, and relaxed in the hot water.

“Shawn. Tracy resigned as my publicist, about a month ago” she said, breaking the silence.

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“Me?”

“She got an offer to represent someone else, but the real reason was because of you. She said it just would be difficult for her, knowing me and you are friends”.

“I really did that girl wrong, Bee”.

“I know. I tried to talk to her about it but she didn’t want to bring it up.”

“You think she truly did forgive me?” I asked.

“I believe she forgave you. She just won’t ever forget it. I mean, how could she?”

“Will you always remember the bad shit I have done?” I asked.

“Yeah, I will. I think we gotta acknowledge the bad shit. It’s who we are”.

“And who am I? Am I a ugly person for my bad shit?”

She kissed me, “No. You are the man I love. Your bad shit and all”.

“You think that makes you a bad person? That you could love a person like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe I am dangerously in love, like my song. Or crazy in love. Maybe I’m stupid for giving this another shot.”

“But?” I asked, feeling one coming.

“But. I’d rather be stupid for giving love a try then not be stupid for running from it.”

“You are a glass half full person, Bee. I like that. I am too” I said.

“Or maybe we are just two stupid lovers” she smirked.

“So are you gonna die for me now? Like Bonnie and Clyde?” I laughed.

“Nope. We still ain’t to that point yet…nah…I’m good on that” she said.

“Wait wait…so you would lick my ass, but not die for me” I said.

“I guess so” she laughed.

“Licking ass is something not to be taken lightly though, Bee. Like, that’s almost like taking a bullet for a nigga” I said, pseudo intellectual like.

She giggled, “Well. I guess that’s just one thing I will do for my man”.

“That’s how you like it huh?” I asked.

“No, that is how YOU like it. I heard you screaming into that couch.”

Damn, she had my ass there. I guess that was one thing she’d never let me live down, finding pleasure in her heading down south on me. It still founded funny hearing her call me her man. I hadn’t been someones man in a long time. But, for once, I was happy to have that label. But one thing still bothered me.

“So, do we announce to the world, this new label of ours?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing” she said.

“Like, do we sneak and hide it like we have been doing?” I asked.

“I don’t like the idea of that. I want to go out with you. Have we even had a first real date yet?” she asked.

“Not even a trip to Popeyes” I laughed.

“Damn, I gave it up before there was even a first date. How slutty of me”.

“Yep”.

She pushed me in the arm. I kissed her neck. She flinched. We both smiled.

“Ok. There is no way I want to be with you and hide it. Everyone will be speculating anyway when our song comes out” she said.

“Agreed. We could just downplay any and all questions about us” I said.

“Yeah. Give them nothing to report on. I mean, you’re a private person and so am I. So its not like we’d have to change our routine, right?”

“Nah, you are right” I said.

“And what about our people?” she asked.

“Well, Kanye has to know something, and a few of my friends know about me and you. But I honestly don’t kiss and tell, Bee. I like to keep my shit private to the world. So…”

“Yeah. Only a few of my girls know…and my parents. Those the only ones that need to know”.

“So it’s settled?” I said.

“Settled.”

“You do know that regardless of what we say, the media will speculate, right?”

She laughed, “Yep. We’ll be on every tabloid no matter what. Unless we just go back to hiding and creeping” she said.

We looked, and almost at the same time decided, “Not”.

“What about the songs, that’s about me?” I asked, boastfully.

“What about em?”

“They are only gonna add fuel to the fire” I said.

“Yeah, well. I can always downplay that. Just tell the interviewers how it’s just a song for people in general, and not about someone specific. But know what? I’m more concerned about your songs. You can’t be making songs about f*cking every chick in the world. Nah, you gotta make songs about making love to me” she teased.

“Uh…Excuse my miss?”

She laughed, “No more Big Pimping.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ok now. I might make a song about a chick sucking my dick in the studio” I laughed.

“You bet not” she said, sassy like.

I laughed and kissed her again. I loved kissing her. I loved having her around me. I loved talking with her. I loved having her as a friend. It all made sense.

“I love you, Bee”.

“I love you too”.

July 12, 1984

I missed Vida, her confidence and the swagger I had when I was around her. She had taught me so much, how to believe in myself and how to be secure. But the year she had built that up, it all came crashing down in a matter of minutes. I no longer had confidence in myself, and I feared I could never love again. I felt ugly, like everything she had put in me was false hope. Everything she said she wanted was what Dehaven already was. He was confident and violent and strong, and I was sensitive and wore my emotions on my sleeve.

I walked out the door of into the dark, hot, night. This was what hell felt like. A humidified greenhouse where the flames of your own failures consumed you. There was no escape from the demons that tormented you or the smell of death that surrounded. Fiends walked up to me, that I swatted away. I wasn’t interested in making any money. I just had to walk, get away from it all.

I walked out of Marcy, not knowing where I was going at 3 in the morning and not caring that being out late was dangerous. I could be robbed by stickup kids, or jumped by rival gangs, or even arrested by crooked police. But I didn’t care, there wasn’t anything that i cared about, except missing Vida.

How could she have done that to me? How could she have cheated on me so easily? How could my best friend have done that to me? F*cked my girl, so easily? How could my mother cheat on my dad? How could my dad leave me? How could someone kill my uncle? Why had I shot my brother? Why were people so evil? Why was this life of poverty and pain and unreliable people even worth living?

I couldn’t trust anyone. There was no one worth trusting on earth. Most people I figured already realized that, it was why they put their trust in an invisible, imaginary God. Someone they could try to that would never hurt them. Maybe I should become religious, I thought, after I passed a drugged out 5 Percenter who called me a God as I passed him.

I ended up walking past a church, the same church Jazmine went to. The same church her father, who was a deacon, brought her to pray to Jesus. I quickened my past when I walked past the religious sanctuary, which felt more like a cemetery, where ghosts were staring at me. Souls of dead people, who could no longer trust the world, and only could trust a man upstairs that didn’t talk.

I spit on the holy ground and kept walking. I walked past grown men huddled together, mean mugging me. But I wasn’t afraid of them. At this point I wasn’t even afraid of death, so why would I be afraid of them?

I kept it moving, walking multiple blocks, hands in my pocket. I hated this place. I hated New York, and Brooklyn, and the hood. I hated side stepping needles on the ground and seeing men and women rummaging through the trash. I hated seeing squad cars driving right past little kids sleeping on a dirty mattress outside. I hated the parents of those kids.

I hated everything, but I hated Vida most, because I loved her so much. My lungs hurt to breath, as I realized I had been crying the entire walk. My face hurt, my throat hurt, all because of this b*tch. It was a feeling I would refuse to experience ever again. I would never love again. Never love a woman, a friend, a parent, a sibling. I would never hurt again because of losing someone.

I would even refuse to love myself, so if I was ever faced with death, I’d happily chose it. I walked to the nearest train, and boarded, not even sure where I was going. The usual were on the train at this time. Junkies, hustlers, pimps, and hos, and the occasional worker on their way home from work.

As I sat there, ready to permanently detach myself from the world and the people in it, I thought about the Beatles song, Let It Be. I turned my head, so no one could see the my red eyes. The words played in my head as I fought with the emotions. I eventually pulled out the pen and pad I usually carried with me. I didn’t know what I was going to write, or why i was writing it. But I knew I was no longer in control. Something higher, a higher consciousness, a god, a guiding energy, or a drop of faith in my heart, told me to write. And I ended up writing a letter to her.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know if I will ever meet you. Tonight, I will cease looking for you. But I write this as a reminder of who I use to be. A boy filled with joy, and laughter, and love. Love. I write this to remember that I am capable of loving. Of loving you. I write this for you as much as I write this for me. And if you ever get this, I will know, just as you do, that I, Jazzy Shawn Carter, love you will all of my heart. All of my heart, I give to this moment, this letter on this dingy, rat infested transit station. All that I am, I give it to
you. If I ever become incapable of loving past this night, let this letter be the proof, that I wasn’t always like this. Let this letter represent, my love for you, and myself.

To you, whoever you may be

From me, Shawn Carter

-July, 1984

I folded up the piece of paper, not sure what I’d do with it. Not sure if I’d throw it away or hold on to it. I put it in my pocket, got off the train and went down to where the prostitutes sold their bodies. I sexually assaulted one that night, only to later contemplate suicide. I no longer had anything to love.

March 16, 1995

I held the wrinkled, ugly, folded piece of paper in my hand and sighed. It had been so long since I pulled it out of my shoebox to read. But as I sat on the bed, with the engagement ring I had for Fannie, I realized it was a piece of paper I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want anyone to read it. It reminded me of what I never wanted to accept about myself. It reminded me of that night. The night I died. The night I f*cking died. I was ashamed of the paper, not even remembering what the stained sheet said. All I remembered was that I kept it for years, intending to give it to the person that I felt I could give it to.

Fannie walked in and I hid the ring.

“Hey babe. You ok? Why you in here with all of the lights out” she said, concerned.

“Just thinking” I said.

“About anything in particular?”

“Not really” I lied.

I twiddled the folded note in my hand, contemplating releasing it from my possession, once and for all. This was the only time I had ever attempted to remove it from it’s hiding place and reveal myself.

“What’s that in your hand?” she asked me.

She sat down and my mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn’t talk. I stared at her, looked in her eyes, and wanted to give it to her. I wanted her to have it.

“It’s”

“It’s what?” she asked.

My eyes filled with frustration, and I dropped to my knee,  and pulled out the engagement ring.

“Fannie, will you marry me?” I asked.

I slid the piece of paper back in my pocket and she said yes.

March 3, 2008

“What’s this?” Beyonce asked me, staring hard at the folded paper that had brought me to tears.

I sat back on the hotel bed, as she stood, wondering what was wrong with me. The fact was, there was nothing wrong with me. And it made me feel free. There was nothing wrong about how I was feeling, no reserves or regrets, or fear about handing Beyonce the folded piece of paper that I had hidden from myself and the world for 25 years. I still wasn’t sure what the note said, my memory of that night was cloudy. I had blocked most of it from my conscious.

But deep down, I knew and remembered what it was suppose to represent. I knew it was special and only a special person would ever get to see it’s contents. And more specifically, I knew Beyonce was that special person. The tears, for the first time in my life, weren’t tears of pain and hurt, but ones of relief. I could count on two hands the times in my life that I had let tears come down my face, and this one was the only time that they represented love, instead of fear.

She opened the note, and read it out loud. As the read each word carefully, her own eyes filled with tears. I became met the boy I once was at the same time she did, remembering the place I was at when I wrote that incoherent note to a future I didn’t believe was possible. A future with a person I truly loved.

“July…..19….84″ she said, looking at me, moist eyes.

I sat up and walked to her. I held her hands, and made eye contact with the woman I had written about years ago. She was before me. Incarnated into loving, teary eyed, flesh.

“Beyonce Knowles. Will you marry me?”.

April 4, 2008

“I do” Beyonce said, staring deeply into my eyes.

“Do you take Beyonce to be your wife” the minister asked.

“I do” I said, eyes focused in on this woman.

The minister announced us as husband and wife, and we kissed, our small group of closed ones applauding our union. A union that signified a coming of age story for both her and me, a union that proved that love truly was transcendent.

April 5, 2008 (12:05 AM)

“Yes Shawn. It’s true. I slept with Nas” she whispered, more than answered.

A whisper of death, of nails into my hands. I felt betrayed all over again, but not in the way I had become accustomed to. I didn’t feel as if she betrayed me, I felt like I had betrayed myself. I had promised myself I would never let my insecurities about the past come up again, but on my wedding night, I had.

“Are you ok?” she asked me, checking to see where my head was.

“Why did you do it?” I asked, my eyes looking dead, my mind the events playing out in my head.

“Just kind of happened. I was at his shoot. He invited me out. Had some drinks. And it happened” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Bee?” I asked.

“Because it was in my past. And I thought both of us agreed that the past was just that. You are the man I love and the man I married” she said to me, looking at me hard.

I didn’t say anything, letting it all sink in. Knowing that during the time I fell for her, she was hiding the fact that she had slept with the man I was beefing with. And even now, during my time recording with him after we squashed the beef, she and him were concealing the fact that they had been intimate.

“Was this a relationship, or just sex?” I asked her.

“Just sex. A one time thing” she said to me, eyes glued on mine.

I took and deep breath and sighed, trying to figure which option I would have preferred. Knowing that he hit it and quit it and I wifed it, brought back all of the old feelings I had about that type of thing. I wondered who else knew, was it an industry secret, and how much it would effect me.

“Shawn?” she asked me, snapping me back to reality.

I looked at this woman, her loving eyes, and studied her face. I had given everything to her, my trust, my emotions, my legacy. And even at a point where I should have been humiliated and defeated, I felt connected to her. I felt our connection, an energy, or guiding force, or deity, or reincarnation of something else, linking my spirit with hers. And I could never defy that connection again.

I kissed her forehead, and pulled her closer to me.

“You still love me?” she asked.

“Always” I responded, closing my eyes.

“Shawn” she said to me after a few minutes, when I was close to sleep.

“Yeah?”

“I never slept with Nas”.

My eyes popped open and my heart jumped up. She met this look with a smirk.

“What?” I asked.

“I never had sex with Nas.” she repeated.

“Why you lie?”

“Well. It seemed it was on your mind heavy and I wanted to see how you would react if I told you I did. See if it would change anything. I’m sorry, I don’t like lying to you”.

“Don’t be sorry if you ain’t sleep with the man” I said, excited about her confession.

I couldn’t believe all of the years I had been tripping over that rumor.

“So, everything about the rumor about you and Nas was false?” I asked.

“Well, he did invite me out after the shoot. I thought he was cute. I gave him my number. We had some drinks, but that was it. He was kind of a weirdo. Real spaced out. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about” she laughed.

“So yall ain’t do nothing? Talk on the phone? Kiss? Nothing?

She laughed, “It’s so cute seeing you care so much, but no. I ended up hitting the dance floor with my girls. I think his baby momma was calling him. I wasn’t tryna be involved in no drama” she said.

Words couldn’t explain how relieved I was hearing this. And although many women had told me they didn’t do this or that, this was the one time I believed it. I believed Beyonce. I trusted her.

“Carmen said he ain’t talk to you cuz you had stank breath” I teased.

“Yeah I know. I read the little excerpt in her book. I wondered when you were gonna bring it up” she said.

“So was it stank?”

She smiled, then kissed me.

“Who cares. It was in the past”.

We laughed, and after making soft, passionate, love to consummate our marriage. We decided to be the freaks we had normally been during our sexual relationship. Whip cream and hand cuffs. That was more like it.

August, 2002

The next morning after we turned my bedroom and living room into a porno set, we watched a few of the scenes on her video camera. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, watching our f*ck faces and seeing us lick each others ass. We laughed through the entire thing. But I knew eventually it would be time to delete it. If something like this got leaked, not only would it become the sex tape of the century, but the undoing of our private lives as we knew it. Something like that could never become public property.

“Keep it” she said, as I pressed the buttons to get to the delete screen.

It didn’t even register in my mind what she was saying until I replayed the words.

“What?”

“Don’t delete it. Keep it” she said, looking in my eyes.

I laughed because I didn’t believe her but she remained still and unmoved.

“I’m serious. Keep the video” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because. It’s a symbol.”

“A symbol of what, how freaky you are?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Well yeah that” she smirked, “But also of our trust. I trust you with the tape” she said.

“You trust me, the dude who broke your heart, to have a sex tape of you licking ass and f*cking all over the place?” I asked, clarifying.

She smiled, “Yep. I’m dangerously in love with you, boy. And don’t you ever doubt it”.

When she left me with that tape in my possession, I would never doubt her love for me again.

2003 (The day of my dads funeral)

Beyonce texted me right as I was leaving. Just a few friends and family had made the trip to see him buried.

Received 1:03 PM: Is it over?

Sent 1:05 PM: Yeah, he is in the ground

Received 1:06 PM: Baby, I am so sorry I couldn’t make it

Sent 1:08 PM: B, don’t be sorry. U have supported me through dis in so many other ways. I understand u couldn’t leave ur tour

Received 1:10 PM: U kno i would have left it to be wit there 4 u

Sent 1:12 PM: N just knowing that u would have is enough.

Received 1:12 PM: can i call u?

Sent 1:14 PM: Call in bout an hour. I’m in da car wit my fam…

Received 1:15 PM: ok…how r dey doing? how r u feeling? r u ok?

Sent 1:17 PM: Dey r doing ok…status quo…I’m fine….im free

Received 1:18 PM: free of wat…

Sent 1:20 PM: Da last bit of hate I had alive in me

Received 1:21 PM: baby i love u…i will call u soon…ok

Sent 1:22 PM: love u…talk to u soon

The End…………..