by Meta Smith
“This is entrapment! It’ll never hold up in court!” Leilani screeched as she struggled in a futile attempt to free herself from the handcuffs.
“See, Leilani, the thing about you is that you’re not half as smart as you think you are. It would be entrapment if I were a cop, or if the police had been involved beforehand,” Sparks explained.
“That’s right, Leilani,” Ginger said. “This is all our doing. I just called the police. Detective Atkins here just watched your taped confession in my suite next door. So, honey child, you weren’t entrapped. You were just plain old-fashioned set up to play yourself.”
“This will never hold up in court. You have nothing,” Leilani spat. “Get a good lawyer. Adiós, mami!” Ginger shook her head. She almost
felt sorry for Leilani. It was true that they might have a hard time admitting the tape in court. But she knew it was now only a matter of time before the police found more than enough information to nail Leilani.
“Salud!” Ginger toasted Sparks with a raised glass.
“Salud,” he replied before clinking his glass with hers.
EPILOGUE
The Last Word?
N
OW Y’ALL KNOW I’M NOT GOING OUT LIKE THAT. I’VE BEEN through too much and come too far to go out like a sucker. It’s a trip that I can
hear almost everything that is going on around me, but I can’t respond. There’s so much I want to say to Bentley, to Sparks, and to Ginger. There’s so much I want to thank them for. But I’ll have my chance soon enough. I feel myself getting stronger; I know I’m on my way back to life. And although I’ve always had my theories, I’m not ready to find out if my boy Tupac is really dead or not. I don’t wonder if heaven got a ghetto. I know it does, and it’s called hell! I was on my way there in a handbasket with gasoline drawers on.
Somewhere along theway I lost my faith, faith in a higher power and faith in myself. But I won’t be seeing any parts of hell anytime soon. I’m going to live. And even if I don’t live, thanks to Ginger, I know that my salvation is already taken care of. It’s by God’s grace that I’m still here. And when I come out of this coma, because I will, I’m going to make sure that I spend the rest of my life showing Him just how grateful I am for all the chances I’ve had.
I did a lot of dirt in my day, and for that I’m truly sorry. I used so many people to get what I wanted in the name of survival when what I really needed to live was love. No designer fashion, no pocket full of cash, no trip ever gave me the satisfaction of how it felt to be really and truly loved; loved by my dad and grandparents, by Ginger, by Sparks, and especially by Bentley.
I don’t know how I could begin to make up for the wrong that I’ve done; I can barely remember all the men’s faces, let alone their names. But I think that if I give to those in
need, give without being asked and without expecting anything in return, maybe that will be a start. Maybe if I help others instead of always being out for self, I can make a difference in someone’s life, and not just their wallet.
I still want to rap, but I can’t say that my lyrics are going to focus on the same old same old. How much can one person talk about money, cars, clothes, thugging, fucking, and balling? We’ve had enough of that. It’s time for something new, something that will really change the world. I know that as an entertainer I have to give the people what they want, but maybe they don’t realize that they want and deserve so much more than what they’re getting. I didn’t.
I know Sparks isn’t going to scrap the album, and I don’t really want him to. I worked hard on it, and it is a reflection of who I was–at the time. I’m not going to start fronting now. Plus, I’m going to need all the money I can get to pay this hospital bill. I don’t want my fans to get the wrong idea and think that I’m still all about the streets, because I’ve learned that there’s so much more out there. There’s a world of good things just waiting to be claimed, even for the girls in the hood. I’m going to show them that there’s away to get it but that they don’t have to do what I did. I don’t know exactly how I’ll handle that, but I guess it’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get to it. I know that God will give me the courage and the wisdom to do what I need to do, so I’ll just be still, put it in his hands, and do what the Spirit guides me to do.
I didn’t have the best start in life, and for a long time I let that stand in my way. I used it as an excuse as to why I couldn’t do something, and I even thought that because I grew up poor and without a family, I didn’t deserve for anything good to happen to me. And because of the rape and how I was raised, I thought I was dirty and tainted and didn’t deserve love. But now I understand that it is my birthright and my destiny to inherit all the riches of God’s kingdom. I don’t have to buy into the whole, “all women are bitches and bitches ain’t shit” mentality. And I’m going to make sure that no little girl within the sound of my voice buys into that garbage either. Women are queens; we just have to realize that we wear the crown.
I always thought that if I had a better upbringing, I would have had a better life, and maybe that’s true. But I’m all grown-up now, even if I grew upway too fast, and now I can’t continue to blame my family or my environment. I have the responsibility and the capability to be “the master of my fate and the captain of my soul,” as one of my favorite poems, called “Invictus,” says.
I don’t profess to have all the answers. Not even by a long shot. But I know that I’m going to get there, God willing. Bentley hasn’t left my side, and now there is no doubt that he really loves me. Bentley told me that Ginger and Sparks were busy trying to find who did this to me, and I know that if anyone can figure it out, it’s those two. They are the smartest people I know, and they love me. The way I see it, they’re my best shot, because the LAPD ain’t got no love for a black person or a Latino.
Bentley also says we’re going to get married and try for another baby; he told me
246 MÉTA SMITH
that I lost this one. I know he would have been an excellent father, and I would have been a pretty fantastic mother myself. But maybe it wasn’t meant to be right now. But what’s definitely not meant to be is me taking a dirt nap. I’m a Leo baby, the biggest of all the cats. The way I see it, I’ve got at least seven more lives left.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you, Mother and Father God, for every blessing bestowed and for every blessing to come.
Thank you to all of the readers! You are appreciated and valued!
I would like to thank my father, the late, great Baba Jesse Smith for being my number 1 fan.
Thank you to my mother Sylvia Smith, for all the ways you help me. I really couldn’t do all this without you. I love you.
Jordan, my firstborn and only child until I marry an African billionaire and bear him an heir, I do this all for you. I love you Sir Jordanian.
To my sister Kathy and my nephews Troy and Taylor, I love you very much and I miss you. Come home every now and then!
To my great-niece Jaxxie and her wonderful mother Chloe, I love you my darlings!
I’d like to acknowledge the memory of my family who are no longer with me in this dimension since the initial publication of this book. I love you and will see you in the afterlife: Grandma Darlene Charleston, Aunt Eva Henderson (thanks for making me your princess), Uncle William Smith, Uncle Roland “Brother” Kelly, Cousin Dwayne McClinton, Un- cle Chubby, godfather Emerick Matthews and godmother Aunt Pauline Springfield.
A lil’ liquor for the brothers who ain’t here, Jake “The Shake” Balakoo- hi, Chris Holly, Dr. Mark Sawyer, and especially Prashant Bhargava, for understanding me in a way that no one ever has and no one ever will. You believed I would make this book a movie, and I will.
Special thanks to my slew of aunts, uncles, cousins and their families and all my friends. I’m not naming you in this edition because I got in trouble for accidentally omitting folks last time. Besides, there are like 100 of you. Y’all know who you are. I love you.
&nbs
p; Thanks to the people who made my career happen over 10 years ago. I appreciate all the work that you’ve done for me and for the opportuni- ties you provided. I will always be grateful. Marc Gerald of The Agency Group, eternal thanks for taking a chance & signing me on. I learned a lot from you. Caroline Greeven, formerly of The Agency Group, thank you beyond words for opening and reading my email query and not pressing delete or ignoring it! Thanks to my first editor at Warner Books, Jason Pinter for believing in me straight out the gate. And thank you for the grad
school admission letter so many years later. You’re awesome! And thanks to Linda Duggins, the best publicist I ever had. I adore you.
Last on paper, but first in my heart, I want to thank myself, for having the courage to spread my wings as an independent publisher and to help give a voice to the voiceless. I did this myself, I’m proud of myself, and I love myself.
AUTHOR BIO
Méta Smith was born in Philadelphia and raised on the south side of Chicago. She attended Clark Atlanta University where she majored in Mass Communications, and later transferred to Spelman College in Atlanta, where she received a Bachelor’s Degree in English.
Her adventurous spirit took her to Miami on a vacation that turned into a six-year residency. In Miami she fell in love with the South Beach club scene and worked a myriad of jobs to support her nightlife addiction, including waitress, promotions coordinator for the local UPN television affiliate, middle-school English teacher, nightclub promoter and music video model.
Méta has also worked extensively in the field of fundraising for philanthropic causes, using her social skills and her gift for writing to raise over $14 million for a variety of non-profit organizations, including the United Way and the Benedictine Sisters of Chicago, an order of monastic nuns.
Méta recently returned to the classroom, working with autistic and developmentally challenged students at her alma mater Kenwood Academy, where she also coached cheerleading, interning in the English Department at Harold Washington College and working as an English Professor at East-West University. She received a Master’s Degree in English (Writing and Publishing) from DePaul University in June 2015.
Méta Smith lives in Chicago with her son Jordan.
BONUS MATERIAL
AUTHOR Q&A
Did you do anything (or everything) in this book?
No. Clearly not or I’d either be an evangelist and preacher’s wife or a rap- per or in jail. But let’s just say, I’m no stranger to the Lexx or Coco’s. And I did go on a vacation to St. Thomas with my roommate and we did get kicked out of the Windward Passage Hotel for no reason other than hat- ers gonna hate. I was also called maaga many times and got ignored at Crazy Cals, and that magic hangover soup is absolutely a real thing except I have no idea where I got it from but if anyone knows where to find it, let me know! *whispers* Psst! Don’t tell anyone, but I also met a really good looking guy there, the brother of my roommate’s boyfriend, and when he finally decided he wanted to pay attention to me, we left a destroyed bed frame behind. Sometimes life is just as good as fiction!
Were any of the characters or storyline based on real people or events? Obviously, my inside knowledge of the industry from my past as a mod- el was helpful in just knowing the lingo and how the industry works. I was quite the clubhead in Miami too, so just knowing that party lifestyle helped to inspire me. And I saw, and I mean really saw The Lexx and Co- co’s, which was a must in order to write about it realistically, without turning the characters into caricatures or stereotypes. As for the charac- ters, Desiree is a composite, at least when it comes to how she looks, of my little cousin named Desiree and my god-daughter Tiera. Tiera has those cat-like eyes and curly hair and can dance her butt off. She’s a good girl though. She’s got a Master’s Degree from Georgetown and is about to get married. My cousin Desi is also a good girl. She’s in college, living in Port- land, and is an ace at track and volleyball. She’s totally tall and gorgeous and should be a model. She’s also a Leo, like Dez and myself. Her birth- day is 2 days before mine. She was only about 4 when I wrote this book, and Tiera was about Dez’s age, so at the times when Dez went through hardships, it broke my heart to write it because all I could see was my little cousin’s and my goddie’s faces. I was emotionally attached to the character because of that though, and it really helped the writing process. Dez had to win, no ifs ands or buts about it! And Ginger is a lot like me personality wise. The slickness, intelligence, hustle and drive but also the pain she endured and her attempts to numb that pain were drawn from
some of my experiences. Thankfully I didn’t have it quite as bad as Ginger or Dez but I’ve been through quite a bit. Writing this book was cathartic in many ways. There are also a few video models that I threw into the mix of characters, but I won’t say who.
When you were a video girl did you date any rappers?
No. Not during the time I was a video girl. But I did before that and I did afterward. I was a professional on set. And I never worked with anyone where there was an attraction.
What video did you like working in the most?
“We Gonna Make It” by Jadakiss, Styles P and Eve. It was a two-day shoot and I loved the way my hair and make-up was done. The girls were all re- ally nice and fun and Jadakiss and Styles were really cool. Styles P really is a gangsta and a gentleman.
What video did you dislike working on the most?
JaRule’s “Always on Time” was pretty bad. I snuck off the set because I was so over everything and by the time the director handed me a pair of panties and asked me to wave them at Ja, I was done. But that’s a story for another book. There was another time, it wasn’t as bad as it was weird. I was in a video for some local Miami group and they wanted me to cover myself in bodypaint and twigs and pretend I was Eve emerging from some bushes. I told them to call my agent and renegotiate my fee. I ended up fully clothed. But the director did scream “more sex!” at me repeatedly while we shot. I wasn’t really offended. He wanted more sex and I gave him more sex. Figuratively. Not literally. It wasn’t that kind of video.
Did you ever want to be a rapper?
It was definitely an idea that I toyed with and that I still toy with because I’ve got bars! I’m a writer and lyricist. I’m better than 95% of the rappers in the game. On a bad day. But I’ll leave that to the kids. Maybe.
How did people initially respond to the book?
It was wild. There were people who assumed I was another Karrine “Su- perhead” Steffans, and were quite vocal about it on the internet. Nothing against her but I’m just not like her. But I will always be grateful to her for putting that book out when she did, because I think it really stirred up a lot of interest in that lifestyle and ultimately that helped me. I hon- estly don’t know how she made it through all the controversy because I only got a minor taste of the negativity she must have experienced. The comments section on my Black Expressions interview was poppin’! I got
called all kinds of sluts and bitches and hoes. People made up blatant lies and said that I had AIDS and slept with this one and that one. My mother cried when she read some of those nasty comments. My Dad on the other hand was thrilled. He was like, “Baby, you made it. You’re gonna be a star! They wouldn’t be talking that much shit about you if you weren’t worth talking about.” But overall the response was positive. I got great reviews. It opened a lot of doors. This book is definitely a fan favorite and probably my favorite too.
Is there ever going to be a sequel? Will we ever find out what happens
to Dez?
You bet your sweet ass you will! Turn the page and you’ll get a taste of what’s to come in 2018!
THE ROLEXXX CLUB
1.5
June 2002 Los Angeles, CA
Y
OU’RE A BAD BITCH! THE BEST TO EVER DO IT! DON’T LET these motherfuckers ever forget!” Dez said to her reflection after
getting her hair and make-up done. She looked flawless and felt fabulous. Dez had come a long
way from the Bronx. Once an abused and neglect-
ed runaway, she was now at the pinnacle of superstardom and adored by an army of fans that spanned the globe. Gone were the days of grinding on the laps of strangers at The Rolexxx, the raunchiest strip club in Mi- ami. She no longer had a need for her “sponsors”, the sugar daddies that had provided for her every need while she rose to fame. And never again would she be a background dancer or eye-candy for a less talented rapper in a music video. She’d even outshined the dark cloud that threatened to overshadow everything she’d worked for: the sextape she made when she was only 16 years old. At last, Dez was a celebrity within her own right. She was the biggest and brightest female rap star the industry had ever seen and no one was going to take that from her.