Game Over (2 page)

2-
Hood Life

May 1996
. It was all a dream. Had to have been. At sixteen, I found myself strolling around the now infamous “JR Mafia House” on Atlantic and Saint James Place in the heart of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, NY where uppity people now call it, Clinton Hill. Back then it was simply a bright red house in the hood where fun times were had and memories were made with some of Hip Hops’ greatest.

Owned by three members of Junior Mafia and their families,
the house was the place where rising stars like Biggie, Lil Kim, Faith Evans, Foxy Brown and Lil Cease hung out. Biggie had signed JM to his label right after his debut album, “Ready to Die,” started to take off. Being around the house didn’t really seem like a big deal for me, a thin Puerto-Rican long-haired chick who should’ve seemed out of place, yet their family treated me like I belonged. There were no security guards, big bags of money, or plastic surgeries going on. Biggie was the only one who’d blown up slightly, and the others were still striving for even a little taste of success. Everyone was on the come-up—even the house, which desperately needed repairs.

Often, the
guys would hang out on the stoop, spitting raps and kickin’ it. That world felt like home to me. Me and my friends would also sit outside on the stoop, just as they did, or head over to Franklin Ave in the heart of Bed-Stuy until late in the night. But the guys in the Junior Mafia house were older cats—more mature, with more experience, and dreams of becoming household names.

Most people in
Brooklyn recognized the members of Junior Mafia when they saw them, but only a few members had the money to match their celebrity status. Most were broke, on the grind, and working hard at spreading their music around the world.

T
hey were out on the block day after day, and, since they were unknown, they were doing what all people in New York know how to do: survive, and hustle—hustle hard. I’d gotten caught up with one of the hardest working guys in the house, Nino Brown. He was my connection to the group and gave me an entrée into their world and my first taste of the music industry. I liked Nino a lot, even adored him slightly, even if I had to pretend that he didn’t have bad, scaly skin and a wack sex game. It was his funny personality that kept me coming around. He had that spontaneous, anything goes type spirit that reminded me of the dudes I hung out with in my hood. Often, I splurged on Nino, buying him clothes and kicks since his pockets were always flat. But I wasn’t using my money; it was Smiley’s, a dude from the streets that I’d met a few months prior to hooking up with Nino, who ironically had my heart even in his constant absence.

Although Nino was a part of Junior Mafia, had a record deal and a hot song playing on the radio nonstop, he had absolutely no money. I’m not sure what the deal was financially between him and Big
gie. All I knew was Nino was still living at home with his mom and
never
had any money, so I’d formed an opinion early on that while being with a rapper gave me proximity to glitz and fame, there was no paper to take care of my wants.

It was cool.
I wasn’t out for Nino’s money. Smiley, my other boy toy, had plenty. Smiley was nine years my senior at twenty-five years old. He seemed so much more mature and experienced than me and introduced me to a pampered lifestyle, kept tons of money in my pocket and was the first man to make me feel like a woman. In a way, he took the place of my father, who’d never been present in my life. Smiley took care of me and would always say, “I’m your daddy now.” Combined with his curly hair and West Indian features, those words made me fall even harder for him.

Smiley drove a drop top B
MW and had a different Rolex for every day of the week, something I never saw with the guys my age. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what his grind was. But whatever it was, it allowed him to keep thousands of dollars in his pocket at any given time, put us up in expensive hotel rooms in the heart of Manhattan, and fund extravagant trips out of town. Other girls my age didn’t have those opportunities. We went on luxurious shopping sprees where he would buy me “Gator Boots for Girls” as Biggie would say and all the hot shit at the time: Moschino, MCM bags, fresh kicks and jewels. The experience amazed me. I always felt loved...but now I had gained a sense of entitlement and expected Smiley to step up to the plate.

Smiley became my lover, father, mother and friend.

He’d do spontaneous things like show up at my high school unexpectedly and drive me all around the city giving me whatever I wanted. Once he picked me and a few of my good friends
up, Nikeya and Mijiza after school for what we thought would be a normal day. We ended up hanging out in Manhattan for a day of fun, then stopping by a liquor store just before ending up in a movie theater with bottles of Cristal. 

As time
went on, our relationship grew stronger and I found myself staying away from home more and more. My mother had fallen in love and moved to the Poconos with my step-father by then leaving me to live with my grandmother who I adored. She was the coolest in my eyes and allowed me to have free reign. Her only rule was that I continued to do well in school. My grades were above average and my education at Clara Barton High School came easy to me, so there was no sweat with that, although my sarcastic mouth continued to cause trouble for me.

It helped that my grandmother trusted and liked Smiley a lot
, which made life easier when I had to miss a few days of school to roll with him out of town. This might have been unheard of for most young girls, but my grandmother trusted whatever story I fed her. It was “our” way of life. Besides I’d told her and my mother that Smiley was a college student. Neither had any idea that he was a major drug dealer who bedded me every other weekend at extravagant hotels in different cities. For me, this was the life. Being a teenager from the hood and spending nights out pretending to be rich fueled me. Little did I know our secret would soon back fire.

Being
young and dumb, I assumed Smiley’s sex was the bomb. Not because he made my toes curl but because our sensual loving sessions would start and end with bottles of Cristal followed by room service with chocolate covered strawberries, fruit platters, and fancy desserts. Clueless and inexperienced, I didn’t know back then how to satisfy a man. Smiley called himself schooling me, but now in hindsight I realize his loving scored low on my scale. Maybe that’s why he always tried to convince me to give him head, which I thought was gross.

In my
usual sarcastic tone, I’d often tell him, “That’s for them Harlem chicks.”

He’d laugh it off and say, “Oh, you will eventually Winter.”

Even though Smiley wasn’t a stallion in bed, he still had my mind. Wherever he told me to go, I went. Whenever he called, I came. This man controlled me like a puppet even from out of town. When he said he wanted to teach me how to drive I showed up to meet him. That day sticks in my mind even now. Smiley pulled up to the lot and said, “Winter, I told you if you learned to drive my car, I’d buy you your own as soon as we get you a license. Well, we getting you a car, baby.”

I just knew I was the Queen of Sheba
and the richest chick in the hood. That was my mentality, always happy to get more, adding to my pot. We went to the car dealer and looked at Mercedes-Benzes, Land Cruisers and everything else that was hot at that time. My face beamed with excitement when Smiley stopped in front of a .325 convertible BMW and grinned my way. All I had to do was learn to drive. Suddenly, an Acura pulled up to the curb and screeched to a stop, startling us both. The driver’s door opened and a stylish woman in her twenties hopped out enraged. Immediately, she stepped up on the curb, walked onto the lot and began spazzing on Smiley. He kept his normal, cool disposition and acted like everything was okay. The only thing he said was, “Get back in your car and go home.” Apparently she was his
other
chick, something he’d neglected to tell me. She appeared to be older than me, richer than me and obviously more intense. He was definitely taking good care of her from the look of her jewels and the fur coat she rocked. I had lots of mouth, always bragging about my fighting skills, but I said nothing as they argued. I realized I’d been played.

Smiley had been running game on me.
We’d been spending every other weekend together, so it never occurred to me that he had another chick. I looked the woman up and down while her head bobbed back and forth.
Oh, so this is how real women get down,
I thought to myself. She knew how to get more from him than weekend trips. I knew I had to step up my game and ask for more if Smiley stayed in my life. Unfortunately for her, while in the middle of her rant, Smiley punched the girl in her mouth, harder than he would’ve hit a three-hundred pound man. I’d never seen him do that before—not to me, not any one. I stood on the pavement dumbfounded. After he struck her, he warned what would happen if she didn’t carry her ass home. With tears in her eyes and blood dripping from her mouth, she did exactly as she was told. 

Strangely,
I chose to stay with Smiley after that. I was young and in love with him in spite of discovering that he’d cheated on me and would actually hit a woman. The punch bothered me more than the cheating. Memories of my younger years were filled with infidelities from the significant others of all of the women in my house. My Aunt Mickey managed to have a long lasting relationship, but her man never married her and years later she found out he had been screwing other chicks the whole time they were together. Then there was my Aunt Leslie’s husband who frequently took her hard-earned money for himself and treated her like she was garbage. He’d even had a baby on her during their relationship. And even though I wasn’t born when my father cheated on my mother with another woman the story still sticks with me. I expected men to cheat so his having another woman didn’t upset me.

Smiley
promised never to lay a hand on me, and I believed him. I trusted him and he was my everything. Smiley had planted the seed that he was a
man
while everyone else I’d dated prior was a boy. He played on the fact that my mom and stepfather were far away, my real father was non-existent, and that he was the one who’d always take care of me. His words about me not having a father around hit home-hard. For some strange reason, my love for him grew stronger and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Instead, he cheated even more as months passed.

I was getting played but instead of getting even I decided to stay quiet and keep
enjoying the lifestyle to which I had become accustomed. Besides, Smiley’s infidelity gave me the opportunity to chill with Nino even more. In contrast to the fabulous excursions and the wining and dining with Smiley, Nino and I would have sex on a raggedy bed and eat beef and broccoli from the Chinese spot—followed by blunts. More and more people began frequenting the house the more popular Nino and Junior Mafia became. Soon they even had bodyguards. As their money increased so did Nino’s ego. Neither meant much to me because I had everything I needed. While Lil Kim and Junior Mafia rapped about fly gear and jewelry, I lived that lifestyle compliments of Smiley’s money. Still, Nino’s life as a rapper began to include me less and less.

In
July of ‘96 Smiley told me he was taking me to Vegas. I was super excited. I’d never been to Vegas before and couldn’t wait. It was going to be one of the most exciting moments of my life. I saw myself tearing the strip down, splurging on any and everything Smiley’s money could buy. It was going to be wild. On the day we were to leave, I went shopping to prepare for the trip and bragged to my home girls while waiting for Smiley to pick me up. My bags were packed and my anticipation was at a crazy level. When the call finally came, it wasn’t the one I’d expected.

“Smiley’s dead,”
Troy, his best friend told me. The words didn’t register at first. I thought it was a joke. It had to be. There was no way that could be true. Smiley meant far too much to me to be gone. Besides, I’d just seen him earlier. How could he be gone so quick? But despite my denial, it really was true. The streets had taken Smiley, my daddy, my everything.

Earlier that day, Smiley decided to stop at the pager store to get a new beeper. After leaving the shop and crossing the street to his car, a fifteen year old boy ran up
on him, robbing and shooting him. He died instantly in front of the Coliseum Mall. I’d never experienced that kind of heartbreak. I’d never felt a loss like that before. His death shook me…badly…to the core. My security blanket was gone and no one could console me: not my grandmother, my mother, nor my stepfather. Smiley became another man missing from my life. What hurt me even more was the way he died. To picture him on the street, dead, and murdered so brutally was unbearable. For months, his shooting occupied my nightmares.  

Smiley’s death left me depressed. He was my better half. He was the first man I truly loved. Without him, I
felt dead inside. The world seemed dark and lonely. No matter how much I cried, the pain wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t even ease up. I wanted to die at times. For months I rarely left the house except to go to school. My family was shocked to see my tears. They never thought I would cry over a man. Maybe even I’d begun to believe what people said about me: that I had a heart of stone and insides of steel. My outpouring of emotion confirmed to everyone what Smiley really meant to me.

The downside
of my mother finding out about my feelings for Smiley was that she learned about all the trips I’d taken with him and that he was significantly older than I originally portrayed. While I sobbed, somehow she’d found all my receipts from shopping and traveling with Smiley. She also found out he was a drug dealer. She expressed her thoughts letting me know my life would change drastically. “The extravagant gifts are over,” she warned. “And you’re going to have to get a good job to keep up that lifestyle.”