The Last Black Unicorn

by Tiffany Haddish

  Turns out, homegirl canceled everything. Why? Because she caught him with another bitch the day before. He neglected to mention that shit about his “homegirl.”

  Marlow was having none of this. I don’t know who Marlow called, but the next thing you know, an hour and a half later, the promoter showed up at the airport, and he paid cash for these tickets. And he gave us the rest of our money in cash.

  Promoter: “Marlow, please don’t have that man call my phone no goddam more. I don’t want no problems, and I ain’t never booking y’all for nothing again. Please, just leave me alone and let me live my life.”

  Marlow: “Yeah, motherfucker, we don’t never want to do your shit again, treating us like shit ’cause we women. If we was men, you wouldn’t treat us like this, motherfucker!”

  I never asked Marlow who she called. I just know that Marlow’s from Compton, and she knows a lot of motherfucking gangstas. She knows Suge, all them. I don’t know who she called, but I will tell you, this promoter had the fear of God in him.

  All this shows, it’s really hard as a woman in comedy. But I don’t want to make it out like all dudes is bad. Some guys are amazing. Like Kevin Hart. He’s like, my comedy guardian angel.

  There was a time, early in my comedy career, when I was homeless. I was living in the Geo Metro. I used to be homeless in Beverly Hills, and I thought, If I’m homeless, I’ll be homeless with class. Keep my nails done. Keep my hair pretty, baby wipes, I’m fresh, it’s okay. I’m in Beverly Hills. As long as I’m sleeping in Beverly Hills, I’m safe.

  I pulled up to the comedy club one night, and Kevin Hart saw all that shit in my car.

  Kevin: “What the fuck is going on with you?”

  Tiffany: “Nothing. I’m good. I’m just in between houses.”

  Kevin: “No. What the fuck is going on?”

  I told him what was up. I cried and everything, I opened up to him.

  Kevin: “Tiff, you can’t be living like this. You a pretty girl. Like, you a beautiful woman. Why are you living in your car? Any dude will be happy to let you live in his house.”

  Tiffany: “I’m not fucking for a roof. I fuck people to heal them. Okay? I’m a healer. That’s why I fuck, not for no roof over my head. I got a car. I got a roof.”

  Kevin: “Tiffany, you crazy as fuck. You should not be sleeping in your car. Here is $300, get yourself a hotel room for the week.”

  That was so nice of him, and I should have been more appreciative, but I had to point something out:

  Tiffany: “What? I cannot get no hotel room nowhere for no week for three hundred bucks?”

  He told me to write out a list of the goals I wanted to accomplish, like what I want out of life. I wrote the first thing on my list, “I want my own apartment.”

  The next day, I got a phone call from one of our mutual friends:

  Friend: “Girl, there’s an apartment for you. You should check it out. Kevin talked to some people, you should go check it out.”

  I went to check it out, and like—it was wack. The neighborhood was terrible. There were crackheads everywhere. It straight looked like the Walking Dead set or something. I pulled up to the apartment building. There were bars everywhere.

  But I had this weird feeling—this place is secure. It’s safe.

  I ended up taking the apartment, and I fixed it up, and I still have it. The neighborhood is actually really nice now.

  All thanks to my comedy guardian angel, Kevin Hart.

  Tiffany’s True Hollywood Stories

  Scientology

  I think everyone who lives in LA has a Scientology story. Mine is pretty short. A lot of people think it’s funny, but I didn’t at the time. I still kind of don’t.

  I don’t remember how I found Scientology. They offered me a place to stay for free, and this was during the period I was living out of my car. They said they would give me $50 a month to live there, and they would help me become a superstar.

  That was cool and all, but I was really only interested in them because they told me they could take the hurt out of memories. I got some hurtful memories, that’s for sure.

  They were trying to get me to go do that thing they do, where you talk about your bad memories as you hold these metal handles, and they give you little electrical charges. You talk about what’s making you so mad. I kept talking about my shit, and it was still reading high. They said, “Do it again, tell it again, tell it again.” I must have told it fifteen times, twenty times, the thing was still reading off the charts. They told me to try again the next day.

  Then they took me to the dorm. It was nothing but little white girls. I think the youngest one was seventeen and the oldest one was thirty. I was twenty-three or something. It was just me and them.

  They took me to where I was going to sleep. It was bunk beds.

  Tiffany: “Uh-uh. I can’t live here, I cannot do that. You need to find me another place to sleep.”

  Scientologist: “No, Tiffany, this is where you sleep. It’s very safe, and—”

  Tiffany: “I don’t fuck with bunk beds. Bad shit happens in bunk beds. I do not do that.”

  Scientologist: “Well, this is all we have, after all—”

  Tiffany: “HELL NO! I’m gonna be trapped, y’all gonna let motherfuckers trap me. For what? $50 a month? That’s how you’re going to get me to sleep in a bunk? I don’t think so, motherfucker. I AM OUT!”

  I’m not a prima donna. Remember when I was in the orphanage—in state custody—we had bunk beds. And that was where the beatings happened.

  Those older bitches used to beat my ass in the bunk bed. If somebody is beating you up, and you get in that corner—you can’t get up out of there. If you’re in that bottom bunk and they’re beating your ass, and there’s walls on both sides, you cannot get out. There’s no way out, you’re trapped. You just get beat.

  I know it’s not rational, but those bunk beds just triggered it for me. I was going to be trapped in there. These weirdos started talking about Scientology to me.

  Scientologist: “If you leave Scientology, you’re breaking your bond, you’re breaking—”

  I went straight hood on them. I was screaming up and down the hallway.

  Tiffany: “YOU MOTHERFUCKERS CAN’T PUT ME IN A BUNK BED TO GET MY ASS WHIPPED FOR $50 A MONTH!! THIS IS WHY THERE AIN’T NO BLACK PEOPLE IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

  Scientologist: “Tiffany, please, we’re going to have to, you’re going to have to go to the infirmary.”

  Tiffany: “Y’all said you was going to take the hurt from the memories. I’m still fucking hurt. SO FUCK YOU AND FUCK BUNK BEDS!!”

  I know other people had problems leaving Scientology, but they let me the fuck out pretty quick.

  Will & Jada

  I was shooting the movie Girls Trip in New Orleans, and Jada Pinkett Smith was in it with me. We got to become pretty good friends on the set. One weekend, Will Smith was coming into town, and Jada invited me to dinner with her and Will.

  I got all dolled up in my best cheap dress to go to dinner with them at this restaurant called La Petite Grocery. That place really lived up to its name. Despite being very expensive, it had very small portions of food. I ordered the short rib and it’s just, like, one rib. Seriously, there’s just a little morsel. There’s one bite.

  Tiffany: “Where’s the rest of the meat?”

  Jada: “You can order as many as you want, Tiffany. It’s okay.”

  Tiffany: “Is this how y’all rich people stay thin, y’all just eat like, a bite of food and that’s it? $30 for one bite? That’s insane.”

  They also had crazy-expensive wine. I ain’t into that. I asked the wine guy:

  Tiffany: “Do y’all have Barefoot Moscato?”

  They did have it, and they were cool about bringing it to me. Not snobby or anything.

  If you don’t know, Barefoot is that wine they sell in the grocery store real cheap. You can laugh at me. God knows Jada and Will were laughing at me.

  Jada: �
��Oh man, Tiffany, it’s you. It’s you, Tiffany, it’s you.”

  Tiffany: “What’s so funny? You ever had Barefoot? It’s good!”

  Jada: “Yes, I’ve had it. I love hanging out with you, because you remind me of back when I was young, and living in Baltimore, just getting started. You just remind me of the good old days.”

  I thought, Damn, your good old days must have sucked.

  She asked me what I was doing the next day, because we had the day off from shooting.

  Tiffany: “Oh, I got me a Groupon, so I’m going on the swamp tour.”

  Jada: “Who you going with?”

  Tiffany: “By myself.”

  Jada: “You going all by yourself?”

  Tiffany: “Yeah, I don’t have no friends out here in Louisiana, I’m going by myself.”

  Jada: “Well, maybe Will and I will go with you.”

  Tiffany: “Yeah right, y’all not gonna go with me.”

  Jada: “No, we’ll probably go with you. We’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll see.”

  There was no chance Jada and Will were coming with me on a swamp tour. I just ignored that shit, and we had a great time at dinner.

  The swamp tour was at about 2 p.m., so right after breakfast, I got out my weed that I had brought in from LA. Now, don’t get all crazy—I have a prescription for this weed. I got real bad back pain, and my doctor agrees, and I have a prescription, so be cool.

  I smoked a little, right? It was like twelve o’clock. I was thinking to myself, Oh man, this swamp tour’s gonna be so cool, I’mma smoke this weed and the alligators gonna be talking to me, the birds gonna be singing, the raccoons gonna be waving at me and stuff, it’s gonna be like I’m in a Disney movie, it’s gonna be great.

  And then about one o’clock, Jada called me. I was high as a kite.

  Jada: “Hey Tiff, you still going on that swamp tour?”

  Tiffany: “Yeah, of course I’m going.”

  Jada: “Well, Will and I are gonna go with you.”

  I paused for a second in disbelief.

  Tiffany: “Wait, you’re for real? Y’all really gonna go with me?”

  Jada: “Yes.”

  Tiffany: “Okay cool. Don’t even trip, y’all Groupon is on me, I got y’all. Since y’all paid for dinner last night, I’mma take care of you guys.”

  Now it was Jada’s turn to pause.

  Jada: “What?”

  She told me to come to their hotel and we would ride together.

  Tiffany: “Don’t worry, I got it. I’ll be over to your hotel in an hour.”

  OH SHIT!

  So I started eating all this bread and drinking water, doing jumping jacks and freaking out. I gotta sober up and be cool.

  An hour later, I pulled up to their hotel in my little $20-a-day rental car that I got. I started to hand my keys to the valet, ’cause I was thinking I’m gonna ride with Will and Jada and their security in the SUV, and it’s gonna be all cool and stuff.

  Nope.

  Will Smith came running out the hotel like he’s in Bad Boys 7 and he jumped in the back seat of my car.

  Will: “Whoa, it’s been years since I’ve been in a regular car.”

  Then Jada runs in behind him.

  Jada: “Oh my God, these windows aren’t tinted, I don’t feel safe.”

  Tiffany: “Really, Jada? You from Baltimore, bitch. Like for real?”

  Jada: “Oh my goodness, fine let’s go, right?”

  Will: “Yeah, let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

  So I started driving. The whole time, I was thinking I was leaning back in the seat driving all cool. But the next day, Jada told me I was up on the steering wheel. Of course I was up on the steering wheel, because all I could think was, You don’t want to be the chick on TMZ that killed the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Be careful, Tiffany. Drive carefully.

  I was trying to play music for them. I was playing the radio, and Chris Brown came on, and it was a new Chris Brown song. And it was so funny, because Will was bobbing his head, and every time I was looking in my rearview mirror, it was like, Will Smith was in my rearview mirror, smiling and bobbing his head.

  I was thinking to myself: This is fucking crazy. How could this be my life?

  Jada: “Who is this playing on the radio?”

  Tiffany: “Oh, that’s Chris Brown, you don’t know who Chris Brown is?”

  Jada: “I don’t listen to his music, all I listen to is Shaolin monks.”

  I was like, What? Is that what rich people listen to—monks? What the hell is she talking about?

  We pulled up to the swamp tour, and it was a lot of people out there waiting. Pretty much all of them white people, too.

  Jada: “Tiffany, why are all these people here?”

  Tiffany: “They probably all got Groupons.”

  Jada: “Tiffany, what is a Groupon?”

  Tiffany: “What do you think it is?”

  Jada: “I think it means you got your own boat that you could take a group of people on.”

  Tiffany: “No, Jada. It’s a discounted coupon that you can do activities with. Why would you think that I had my own boat, Jada?”

  Jada: “Will, you gotta go back to the hotel. Call security right now to come and get you to take you back to the hotel, because this gonna be a problem. With all these people and stuff, you need to go home, because it’s gonna be pandemonium. But I’mma stay, ’cause they not gonna recognize me.”

  Will: “Oh, no fair. How you gonna invite me on the swamp tour and not let me go on the swamp tour? I want to go on the swamp tour.”

  Tiffany: “Yeah Will, tell your wife. Y’all gonna be safe, y’all with me, Tiffany Haddish. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to y’all. I got my backpack, ain’t nobody finna mess with us, we’re gonna see what’s on this swamp.”

  Jada: “You got a backpack?”

  See, I was trying to make it seem like I had a weapon in my backpack, like I had it cracking. I was patting on the backpack like, “We good, y’all. Like, ain’t nobody finna mess with us, I’m from South Central LA, we finna have a good time, I promise you that.”

  Like I said, I was high. It made no sense.

  Will: “Man, let’s just go. Let’s just do it. I came all the way out here, I want to get on the swamp tour.”

  Jada: “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s gonna be okay, I don’t know.”

  Tiffany: “Nobody’s gonna bother us. I promise you ain’t nobody gonna bother us.”

  I went in and got the tickets myself, and we were all set for one of the boats. I got Jada and Will out of the car, and we went to the boat, and nobody was saying nothing. This was 2016, everyone was on their phones, right?

  Then this redneck dude with missing teeth yelled out, “Oh shoot, that’s Will Smith, right there.”

  And everybody on the boat noticed, right as we stepped on the boat. They started clapping, everybody started hollering and cheering. I stepped on first, and I was like:

  Tiffany: “Thank you, thank you everyone, thank you so much.”

  And people literally yelled out, “No, not you. Move out of the way!! Will, Jada! Oh my gosh!”

  And I was like, That’s messed up. I’m the one who brought them!

  Redneck: “Hey Will, what part of Philadelphia you from?”

  Will: “West Philadelphia.”

  Redneck: “Born and raised, right? Did you spend most of your days on the playground?”

  Will: “Yeah. Yeah, man.”

  Redneck: “Can I get a picture?”

  Then a girl jumped up and she asked if she can get a picture, and somebody else asked if they can get a picture, and then Will stood up:

  Will: “Look, ladies and gentlemen, this is the Cajun swamp tour, not the Will Smith tour. So let’s just enjoy ourselves and see what we can see, and once we’re done on this tour, then maybe Jada and I will take pictures with you. Is that okay with everybody? Is that all right with everybody?”

  Everyone cheered for him again. I was all mad
and jealous, because he didn’t even say anything funny, and they’re cheering and clapping and laughing. This is what fame and money does. I need to get some damn money.

  But it worked. We were just enjoying the swamp tour, and we were learning about nutria, which is the largest rodent. We learned about the different birds in the swamp. It was really beautiful. We saw like six alligators, and we got to feed marshmallows to the raccoons and alligators, it was really cool.

  Will kept asking the tour guide a bunch of questions and stuff, and everybody was loving that, because Will Smith was talking.

  Near the end of the tour, Will was just sitting there with his legs crossed, like how rich guys cross their legs, the ankle on the knee so their balls can drop, and he was just sitting there chilling.

  Will: “Man, Tiffany, this is beautiful.”

  Tiffany: “I know, right?”

  Will: “I’m gonna have to get me one of these.”

  Tiffany: “What, one of these boats?”

  Will: “No, a swamp.”

  Tiffany: “What?!”

  I was thinking to myself, This nigga ’bout to buy an ecosystem?

  I couldn’t just let him top me, though.

  Tiffany: “You know what, I’m gonna buy me something, too.”

  Will: “What?”

  Tiffany: “I’m gonna buy me an iceberg, and I’m gonna melt it into yo swamp. Fuck up all yo complex ecosystem.”

  Will: “Hahahahahahaha. You’re crazy, Tiffany.”

  Tiffany: “I might be. I might be crazy. Or maybe I’m just high as fuck.”

  Getting a Hollywood Assistant

  Another thing Jada and Will talked to me about was getting an assistant. They insisted that I hire one.

  They explained that having an assistant—giving somebody else the responsibility of the smaller things, the day-to-day things that you would normally do—helps you to be more focused on your art and your talent:

  Jada: “Tiffany, you shouldn’t have to be running the dogs to the groomer’s or taking clothes to the dry cleaner’s. That’s an assistant’s job. They should be helping you with that.”

  Tiffany: “Really?”