Game Over (15 page)

The only thing I didn’t like was the weather over there. It was always bad. When I say
always
, I mean
always
. Also, despite the love Fab got, he also got a lot of hate too. He was receiving threats on a regular basis. Security had to be tightened, especially when he was on stage. He always wore a whole lot of jewelry on stage so security knew they had to be on point each time he performed. But while the rest of the world couldn’t seem to get enough of Fab’s music, I’d grown tired. Soon after we returned from the tour, Fab got caught up into some shit, landing him in jail.

I wasn’t there so I can’t say
exactly what happened. There are now seventy sides to the story. All I know is how I felt when I rushed into that hospital and saw him hurt and handcuffed to the bed. I couldn’t believe that once again he’d gotten himself into a situation because of the company he kept. When I got there I didn’t see his mother or Emily and I wasn’t quite sure who would come bursting into the room. I remember it being a frightening situation for me. My family felt the same way. The phone calls soon came rolling in with my mother questioning if I would still work for Fab. I told her that was my life…and what I’d signed up for.

Journal Entry

So the first fucking time I decide to not go out with this fool he gets shot. Why would these idiots think it's ok
ay to snatch a damn chain outside the restaurant and 2 hours later not even tell Fab what they did. They getting messy and next time someone's going to get killed but I'm sure he's not going to say shit to them he's a fucking punk. That shit did scare the fuck out of me. When Chrissy walked up to me in the club to tell me I saw worry in her face something I had never seen before so I knew something was terribly wrong. Good thing Chink and Rule were at the club to calm me down before I headed out the club. And the news spread so quickly. That def felt like something out of a movie. Everything in slow motion as Chrissy and Chynae walked me out the club. I could barely breathe. I thought the worse but thank goodness it was only a bullet through the leg. But now we have to deal with these gun charges. My family gonna have a fit and there is no way in hell I can lie or hide it. I hope Al can get them off. And the fact that the rest of the crew are locked up means I’ll be spending the next few days in court and at the bail bondsman office. Def not part of the job but I can't leave my boys in there. Crazy thing is I'm not afraid for my own life. Does that mean I'm loyal or a damn fool? Fuck that I need a cut of whatever they got for that basketball players chain. I bet that shit ain't even real.

By the time the year ended I decided to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas at Chrissy and Jimmy’s house in Jersey. I had all my girls with me too…Ebony, Chynae and Sabrina. We were just kickin’ it, enjoying the holidays, but of course when Fab found out he had words for me. For a while, I didn’t know if Emily was the one feeding him information on my whereabouts, but I soon found the culprits. Fab and Chynae were sleeping together behind my back so it became clear how Fab knew.

Niggas
and bitches.

Always up to no good.

It was just the beginning of the drama to come.   

17-
My Not So Fabulous Life

2007 arrived
with me feeling differently about being around Fab so much. He had me burnt out on his voice and his music. When his song came on the radio, I turned it off. When his video came on television, I changed the channel. Nothing personal. I was just that burnt out. Hearing his voice anywhere had me thinking there was work to do. It had even gotten to the point where when he did a collaboration with Swizz, I didn’t even want to roll with him to the studio. I never wanted Fab to know I’d messed around with Swizz anyway.

It seemed like since my relationships were mostly based around people in the music industry it was becoming more difficult keeping my personal business away from Fab. Being sneaky had become a part of me and always came into play simply because I worked for him. All Star Weekend 2007 proved to be no different. 

Once again the words
‘passion, excitement, desire and joy’ all filled my gut the moment my plane landed. That's what I'd always read love was supposed to feel like. This was it.
He
was the one. The man who'd swept me off my feet....in private of course. Still, our relationship was hush hush to both the public and his fans, and only a select few knew of our rendezvous. So the Vegas trip was well needed. One potential problem faced us though. It was All Star weekend and both of our schedules were jam packed. 

As we raced
through the airport tons of onlookers gawked at Fab, me, and the rest of our entourage from afar, pointing, grinning, snapping pictures, and some scantily dressed females even tried to rush us. Clearly, my job as Fabolous' assistant didn't involve muscle, so I moved to the side to let his bodyguard do his job and fight off the groupies. Traveling with Fab and the other Def Jam heavyweights always proved to be exciting, and this trip would be no different. Before I knew it car service arrived, and I commenced to secretly dialing my man’s cell number. My intent was to get Fab and the other guys checked in then flock over to Big Money’s hotel room. As the phone rang that strong desire to be with him filled me again. The thought of hearing his raspy voice sent chills up and down my spine while the loud chatter around me continued. 

It didn't take long for me to realize he wasn't answering, but I'd been determined my entire life. I hung up, called again, and paid attention to the fast pace of my
heart beat. Again, no answer. That incident got brushed under the rug quickly, since my duties began as soon as we pulled up to the hotel. Within an hour, we were all checked in, and the entourage headed to Fab's first radio interview. Since this was some type of Def Jam takeover, I was sure Big Money would be there. He and Fab had the same sort of celebrity status by now, and my sources had previously told me they were both scheduled to do the interview. 

It seemed as if the radio interview began and ended before I even realized we were all being ushered back out the door. The fact that my boo never showed up hit me like a ton of bricks. I stood for minutes with my mouth hung open. If his interview had been cancelled or postponed, where in the hell was my phone call? My insides boiled. I was pissed. What about all those words he’d
spat to me over the phone or when we were getting it in back in Atlanta? I was his homie, his ride or die chick, and now I couldn't get a fuckin’ phone call? Next thing I knew, my fingers were attacking the key pad on my phone.  

It rang.
 

No answer.

I hung up and called again.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

I did the repeat thing again becoming a borderline stalker. Strangely, this time he answered. Even though steam flowed from my head, I still wanted to be in his presence and loved the sound of his confident voice. It was the same range most fans noticed when they listened to his music. I needed to get with him, fast.

“What up? Where you at
?” My words quickly rolled off my tongue. 

“
Out,” he told me.

His voice sounded so nonchalant. My first thought was to bust off on him, but my sentiment changed all too fast. I peeped to my right and left to see if anyone was listening to my call as we stepped back into the ride. The coast seemed to be clear with no one paying me any attention
  as the car pulled off, so I asked boldly, “Where you staying at, so I can come over?”

He paused, then hit me with,
“I don't know.”

Lies
, I told myself. But why?

Faster than I could even blink, he man-handled me off the phone. He was a fast talker, sweet talker, and so much more when it came to women, so I knew smoke was being blown up my skirt.
 I took the snub like a big girl and went back to planning for Fab's appearance at a local club, which was scheduled for midnight. I wondered if Fab knew what I was trying to do since my mood had gone from sweet to sour in less than an hour. He never said much, only shot me a few looks since I took care of my job like a real woman was supposed to. I put love aside momentarily, attended the party that night, only to have my boo not show up there either. When would the lightbulb go off? Obviously, I was being played. 

The next morning reality struck, an insider, one I'd like to call an informant unloaded what felt like a ton of bricks.
 When the words, “Your man showed up after you left,” escaped his lips, I froze. Then he hit me with,”
He
was with
her
.”    

I
became over the top angry. Who was ‘her?’ Who was my baby with, I wondered? “Who was it?” I blasted. My source was clearly afraid of what my next reaction would be. His voice cracked. Afterwards, his throat cleared a few times. “The R&B chick that we've all heard the rumors about.”

My eyes blurred. I could only see red. I knew who my informant was talking about. I was ready to fight. It was time
to whip them both on contact. It took hours for my homies to calm me down. Tears flowed like the Nile, and nothing could stop my rage. Soon, nighttime fell again, and the Def Jam family had yet another event. I showed up, did my duties for Fab with a drab attitude, and attempted to settle my nerves. That's when things spiraled out of control. My multi- platinum selling dude walked in the door with the woman I suspected he was with. They were arm and arm like a real couple....like I didn't exist.

Within seconds, I
wanted to charge them both. My hands shook, and my mental shifted to something similar to a mass attack. I didn't care that she was famous, or if any pictures of me going wild would be posted on the blogs. I just refused to get treated badly when he was the one stringing me along. I could've handled the truth, but not the humiliation. Clearly, I was being fucked with no vaseline. That was it...the end to our relationship as far as I was concerned.  My heart may have been crushed but I held my head high, refusing to let yet another negative situation with a man ruin my job. I was able to take care of myself and used that set back as another opportunity to make myself stronger. As usual, I took a mental note of just another game that had been played.

Of course when I got the chance I wrote about his ass in my journal. At that moment I reali
zed I was living in denial. Big Money didn’t give a shit about my feelings. I knew I needed to go back to the old Winter. I did just that.  

  
 
Journal Entry

So I guess it's fuckin
’ true. Why didn't I listen to the blogs and everybody else trying to warn me. So because my mother wasn't a fiend I guess I get the short end of the stick. Fuck him and that tough love shit he talks about. I know I'll probably take his stupid ass back but I swear I'm going to stay away as long as possible. He has to pay for this. I should fuck with one of his boys but none of them would be worth it and he would probably never fuck with me again. I'm such a sucka for this wack ass country boy. But why??? What is it about him? I'm so confused I need to see a shrink about this. This can't be healthy. Out of all of them, why him?

Of course Fab still expected me to be on point as his assistant. No rest for the weary. That spring, a twenty city promo tour, which included Atlanta, Baton Rouge, Dallas, Sacramento, and Jacksonville, Florida had been planned by the label. The entire tour was done by tour bus. It was a month and half, but loads of fun. Nearly every moment between shows was filled with partying, smoking, drinking, shopping, and eating. I enjoyed myself. The only thing I didn’t enjoy was the obvious change in Fab. It was drastic. I don’t know if it was personal problems, him being nervous about the upcoming album release, or him allowing his celebrity to go to his head. Whatever it was, things between us began to change for the worse and I could see the writing starting to appear on the wall.

It seemed as if my every move was being questioned.
His trust in me had never been questioned before. During this time I met Ne-Yo and fell in love with the song, “You Make Me Better” all over again where he’d joined forces with Fab. It may seem crazy but I’d always thought that video was about me. The Spanish girl in the video plays security for Fab. I thought about how it related to the two of us so much. Although I was never Fab’s official security I took care of him, always had his best interest at heart, and would never allow anyone to hurt him. To date, I feel like I truly made him better.

That video also sparked me to write something about Fab that should have been written earlier near my birthday. It was special but somehow intentionally overlooked.

Journal Entry

Tonight was great. My birthday dinner was perfect. I can thank Fab for that.

Even
in the midst of doing spring bling he planned this whole thing. Even my mother, brother and aunt were there. I hadn't spent time with them in a minute and he didn't urk me about any tedious work either. I guess he does have his good side when the hell he wants to. That dinner at Don Shulas steakhouse I'm sure set him back at least 1,000. I guess I shouldn’t have expected a gift after that. But I did appreciate what he did. And I damn sure deserved it. Tomorrow we heading to Miami for more birthday fun for me. I guess I should take advantage of it shit I'll only get this treatment once a year. Kudos for loso!!!

  By the time our stop in Houston rolled around, the pressure was on. Fab’s album, scheduled to be released that June, had lots of buzz. Like any other artist the first week sales would mean a lot. Fab seemed extra nervous and frustrated. Somewhere in between all the work, I’d managed to call Slim Thug, a rapper from Houston who I’d had my eye on for a while. My excuse was that I’d hook him up with Fab and he could show us a good time that night in Houston.

My plan worked. Slim Thug
came to the hotel and took us to the club. I orchestrated all of that. Crafty, if I must say so myself. He was just my type: fresh braids and thugged out.  I had no intention of starting a relationship with him. Big Money had killed any chances of that. I just wanted a little time alone while in Houston. At the club all the homies around Fab who were on tour with us kept saying, “Winter Dog, you can’t get him. That’s Slim Thug.”

None of them saw me as a real woman with a real life or needs. They saw me as one of the fellas. It was all fun and games until Slim Thug and me started flirting at the club. K
nowing Fab would say something irked me. But I wasn’t about to let that hold me back. Eventually, we all went back to our hotel only I didn’t go to sleep.

The knock came soon on the room’s door. It was Slim Thug. That night started and ended quickly. The three hours we shared together were well worth it. The name Thug fit him perfectly since he was thugged out in the bedroom. He liked it rough and so did I. The only problem with the way that night ended was the next morning our tour bus was leaving early. By the time I made it downstairs, Cheo warned me that Fab knew. He was upset. Obviously, Slim Thug had parked his pimped out Range Rover out front for all to see. I wanted Fab to stay out of my personal life the way I now stayed out of his.