by Jason Lee
I was so offended by him acting like he knew me, so I clapped back. “Nigga, I've been shot in Stockton! I’ve walked these Stockton streets all my life! My brother was murdered in Stockton! Don't talk to me about violence in Stockton. I'm a product of the violence in Stockton.”
I was getting ready to leave and then my father chimed in, “Well, you know we got to learn how to forgive people just like you got to learn how to forgive the woman who killed your brother.”
I had never had a conversation with him about any of the things that he did or any of the ways he behaved afterward. His comment caught me off guard, and the mood of the room immediately changed. My other brother, Link, was also there sitting with his wife. He had his own issues because he and Rodney were at odds before Rodney died, and they never got the chance to make up. While Rodney was in prison, he trusted Link to oversee a drug deal for him. Instead of Link giving the money to Rodney’s girl, he kept it all. He didn’t look out for her. Rodney found out and promised to kill Link when he got out, but he went to prison right when Rodney got out. That guilt was brewing.
Jaelyn and my stepmom were sitting there, and my niece was playing on the floor. Rodney has always been a hot spot for me, so I couldn’t let that pass.
“Nigga, what did you just say?” I didn’t care about him speaking on forgiveness because I felt he had no right to say anything about Rodney being killed. He was a shitty father after it all went down. His comment sent me into a rage.
“What?” he responded flatly.
I repeated myself, “What the fuck did you just say?”
“You need to watch your mouth,” my father warned.
“Nigga, I'll beat your fucking ass!” I would’ve, too. I was ready for anything after that. “Don't ever bring my brother's name up. Don't ever say nothing about him. Don't ever speak on his name.”
My father was saying something else to me, but I blacked out. I didn’t care about anything else he had to say, and I continued.
“The way you shitted on him when he died—the way you took all his shit and treated his house like a fucking garage sale! Literally letting people come in and take whatever they want! You sold his stuff and took his dope and sold it in the hood and didn't take nothing to his kids or nothing.”
Then he jumped up, “Well you didn't even come to the courthouse when she was sentenced for his murder!”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I was there from day one! I was there! Every day I was there when she went to trial. And I was there when she was sentenced—I spoke at her sentencing! What the fuck are you talking about?”
Then Link interjected, “Hold on, hold on.”
I immediately snapped at him next. “And you! What the fuck are you talking about? No, you hold on. You were in fucking prison. Did he save the car for you? Did he at least save something for you?”
Link was a Blood, too, so it would have been fitting if my dad gave Rodney’s car to Link.
“Did he at least save something for you like a memento? Did he at least think about you and giving you something? Did he think about giving it to me? Did he think about giving it to somebody who actually was close to him, so we would have a keepsake? Nah!”
I turned my attention back to my father, “Nigga, you fucking shitted on my brother.” Then I told Link, "And you're going to sit up here and stick up for this nigga? Don't fucking tell me shit.” I had never argued with Link like that before.
It was a very tense environment, and Link’s wife started crying. She knew that this was out of my character and I was never the guy to talk crazy. Before then, I never talked crazy to my dad. He was my dad. It was just something I knew not to do. I didn't have that type of relationship with him. We’d usually just talk in passing or kind of shoot the shit talking, but we never had an intense father/son moment. I was releasing a lot of pent up anger, and I continued.
“At my mom's funeral you tapped me on my shoulder and had the nerve to ask me what her last name was like she wasn’t shit to you. The mother of your child. You've been a disrespectful nigga forever, and I've always respected you in spite of it.”
I was unloading on him. I paused for a moment and tried to gather myself. Then I looked at his wife and felt sorry for her, but I had more to say.
“And you been cheating on her your whole fucking marriage to her. You ain’t loyal to nobody. You don't give a fuck about nobody. You cheated on her your whole marriage. You have all these kids with all these different women. You've been disrespecting her.”
His wife looked at me feeling a sense of vindication because somebody was talking about it. Finally.
“Don't ever speak to me about my brother. Ever.”
I flipped that meeting up-side-down. My mentee was sitting like, “What the fuck is going on?" He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t even move. I was crying, and my sister-in-law was still crying. I went off on my brother again, but he didn’t say anything because he knew that everything I was saying was true. My dad was trying to defend himself, but I wouldn’t allow it.
“No, nigga, you not getting out of this conversation. You're not getting a pass.” One thing that I’m protective of is my brother’s memory. His life is important to me. I'm not going to let anybody shit on him, not even in death.
13 Meeting Floyd Mayweather
Naturally, I was pissed at Link, and I missed Rodney terribly. I took all that anger and constant grief and channeled it into my career as a blogger. In 2011, Rob Kardashian and I were hanging out, and I was straight up with him about making some real moves: “Bro, we need to figure out a way to make some money.” After that conversation, I created a company called “the Conglomerate Group,” which was a consulting company that offered creative services. I started working with Rob on his foundation in the entertainment industry. Then I started my personal blog called “LowKeyMessy.Com,” and it scared the shit out of people. People knew and trusted me, and I was around so many people intimately that when I launched LowKeyMessy.com, people were afraid that I would expose some of their deepest darkest secrets. My idea was to be funny, light-hearted, but “messy.” I didn’t want it to be disastrous to anyone’s career like an exposé. People didn't really understand the branding of it all, and so I quickly strategized and rebranded.
One night, I had dinner with Alex Avant, the son of Clarence Avant. He kept asking me, “How would you market this product, or how would you market this or that…” I kept naming people I’d call to endorse what I was doing, and then Alex gave me the foundation for who I am as a brand today.
“Stop talking about what you would do with other people. Like how would you do it yourself? You’re a brand.” I couldn't see myself as a brand because coming from the labor industry as a union brat, I was conditioned to be selfless. It wasn't about us; it was always about the work. The union was never about trying to be in front or taking credit for anything, it was always about being in the back. It was hard for me to see myself as a brand. Alex went on, “The problem with you is that you are the Jack of All Trades, but you master nothing. People just know you and they know you can do it all, but nobody knows that you're the go-to guy for one thing.” I had no brand identity.
The next day after my meeting with Alex, Queen Latifah called me. We were having a random conversation, and she mentioned that she had run into Perez Hilton in New York. She said, “You know what? You remind me of him, but you're more like a TMZ and Perez but with a heart.” I really took that in. I looked up to Perez because his career has always inspired me to do what I do. “You really need to focus on that,” she continued. “That's your lane. That's you.”
“It's so crazy,” I lit up, “because I just had this dinner where somebody was telling me that!”
I immediately rebranded my LowKeyMessy site. I just deleted it. I was so mad because I spent $5,000 dollars to create. In its place I created “IAmJasonLee.Com” and my tagline was “Hollywood Unlocked.” I wrote about what was happening in pop culture, events I was going to, shoes that I
liked, and music that I liked. People really started liking it, and it gained some popularity, but it still wasn’t quite what I wanted it to be. I was going to quit the industry altogether because I was so frustrated that the site wasn’t bringing in the revenue I wanted. I was making money doing all types of other side hustles.
***
I was still finding ways to strategize and propel my career and I happened to be at a party at David Banner's house with Chris Brown and Karrueche. I had just introduced them, but while at David’s house, I saw someone who I knew I needed to have. His name is Lature, and my initial draw to him was how fine he was. He was light skin with tattoos all over his athletic body. He was about six feet and he looked like a model. I walked up to him and asked for his number, and we ended up hanging out the next day.
Although I wanted to pursue him romantically, Lature’s intentions were different. He wanted our lunch date to be a networking opportunity. I was so drunk at the party that I forgot I even had his number. He had to remind me that we were supposed to meet up that day, and when he sent me his picture to remind me, I made sure I connected with him. We sat at the table together and I was overtly flirting with him and trying to convince him to go out with me. He told me he had never been with a man and that he had no desire to do so. I was still clear with him that I didn't want to network with him, that I wanted him, and that I wanted to be with him. I don't know what it was, but something in me told me that he was going to be mine.
Over the next year and a half, we would still connect and hang out. He still insisted that he just wanted to be friends, but I maintained how I felt about him. We would text each other often and sometimes run into each other at clubs—he would always be friendly but be careful not to lead me on. I was living in Hollywood for a while and hadn’t realized how toxic my environment was. I had gotten so caught up with my surroundings that I didn't even realize that I was changing and losing myself. Lature was an escape from the superficiality and judgment that would sometimes come with the Hollywood scene. He was from Houston, and he was very grounded and normal. I felt completely comfortable around him, and I really liked him.
Eventually, with us growing closer and spending more time together, Lature told me that he was open to seeing where the vibe went between us. The vibe was so good that we decided to pursue a relationship and move in together pretty quickly. Before we got together, he was a local promoter, but as our relationship progressed, he went from being the guy who opened the rope for people to sitting at the owner's table. His life changed.
Then my life, that was somewhat chaotic and out of control, became more balanced and more organized because of him. It was a great relationship. It was the first relationship I had been in where I really felt that there was a lot of real love, honesty, and loyalty—he was the complete opposite of Joshua. We were able to make a lot of money together and be successful together. At one point, we started a business that generated about $10,000 a day. With all the money we were making, it was easy to be frivolous: somebody would say, “Yo, let's go to Vegas, let's go to Miami, let's head to London or Paris,” but Lature would shut it down and tell me to put the money in the bank. We had a great balance: I was the one who could go out and figure out how to make all the money, and he kept the household balanced. Shit, he kept my life balanced.
***
As I continued to make connections, I was fortunate enough to be in a position to be mentored by Floyd Mayweather. I was familiar with Floyd’s career, but he piqued my attention when he posted a rather personal picture on his social media pages regarding the reason for his breakup with his fiancé. There was a lot going on with him and his brand due to the nature of the post, and I had experience consulting and branding.
His assistant, Kitchie, who I had known for a long time, invited me to come to Vegas during the fight weekend, and she said, “I want you to meet Floyd because I know you know everybody.”
I was an aspiring blogger at the time with my personal blog; it wasn't a real legitimate brand and it wasn't really making me money. Nonetheless, she knew I knew everybody, and she knew I was really smart when it came to dealing with content online.
I flew to Vegas and stayed in a crappy hotel over the weekend. I was supposed to meet up with them on Friday, but I didn’t hear anything. Saturday came, and there was nothing. When Sunday came I got nervous because I still didn't hear anything and my flight was supposed to leave that day.
I texted Kitchie and said, “Hey, I'm going home.”
She replied, “No, come to this address,” and then she texted me Floyd’s mother's home address. I got a Taxi and rushed over to his mom's house.
When I arrived, Kitchie didn’t delay introducing me to Floyd:
“Hey, Floyd, this is Jason Lee, and he's a blogger."
Floyd said, “Oh, okay. Well, nice to meet you. Bring him to the Big Boy Mansion.” The Big Boy Mansion was what Floyd named his house. We headed there and I was in company with Flo Rida, Katt Williams among others.
He had a ritual after every fight: he would go to his mother's house and watch his fight playback. People would eat, drink, play cards, talk, or whatever else—the house was usually full of family, friends, a few celebrities, and people who were close to Floyd.
While I was at the Big Boy Mansion, Floyd came up to me in the middle of the room while everybody looked on and said, “So, tell me about you.”
I said, “I'm a blogger, and I'm gay.”
Everybody, including Floyd, looked shocked. He chuckled and said, “Why would you say that?”
I said, “Well, because if you can accept me for who I am, then cool. If not, this shit doesn't really matter to me because I don't really know you. I mean, it is what it is.”
Then he was like, “Well, I'm cool. I don't have any friends—any male friends—who are gay."
“No,” I interjected, “I been here for a little bit. You definitely have a male friend who's gay.”
He fell out laughing, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me outside. He was still laughing hysterically, and he was like, "Who, him?" Then he pointed out one of his friends.
I smiled and said, “Yeah, he gay.”
He fell out laughing again, and from there, we sat down. He sat across from me and initiated a conversation. “Okay, so you a blogger, huh?” He crossed his arms curiously and said, “Okay, so ask me any question you want."
I perked up. “Okay, I don't know much about you, but everybody says that you running from Pacquiao—what's up with that?”
He was taken aback that I asked him that question directly. He sat at the edge of his seat and said, "Okay, let me break it down." During that conversation, he poured everything out. He told me about his marketing strategy, his childhood, how he was poor, and how he's suffered from parents who had drug addictions, like mine. He went to go stay with another family, like I did, and he told me about how he came from poverty and came from an impoverished community. He said that he built his massive brand by locking into his passion, and then working hard and staying dedicated.
Then he talked about how a white family had taken care of him, how he was robbed at the Olympics, and when I really listened to what fueled his passion, I discovered that it was people not believing in him, and him believing in himself.
So back to Pacquiao: Floyd shared how that once world said that Manny Pacquiao was the one person that could beat him, he decided that he was going to make Manny the last person he fought. He said that he would always have a reason for people to hate him, but he would continue to make hundreds of millions of dollars fighting these people.
Then he pulled out a huge diamond ring and a few watches. He laid everything on the table and asked me, "What are you doing?"
I told him, "I'm an aspiring blogger,” and told him all the plans that I had for my brand. “But I was going to actually quit tomorrow, and just go back to work, because I've tried. I've gone everywhere I can go, and this shit just isn't working, so maybe it's not meant to be."
Floyd looked at me and then pulled out a check for 42 million dollars. He said, "This is why you don't quit. You’re the Floyd Mayweather of media, and I can tell that if you just apply yourself and focus, you'll become bigger than you can ever expect." I really felt that.
I went home on fire. I told Lature about my talk with Floyd. He was excited because he knew who Floyd was. I had a new surge of energy and I met with my team as soon as I could. I started to evaluate how to restructure all of my business and shift gears. I knew that Floyd would be in DC hosting an event for a foundation, so I told Lature, “Yo, we're going to fly to DC and to support Floyd, and I want you to meet him.”
We flew to DC and his assistant told me what hotel they were staying at. Floyd didn't know I was coming, and when he got out the car, there was paparazzi, security, and fans everywhere. He saw me, looked around puzzled, and immediately made an opening through the crowd. He walked over to Lature and me, and said, “Yo, what you doing here?”
I said, “I came out here to support you.”
“For real?" he said. “How you get here?”
I said, “We flew ourselves.”
“Really?” he was surprised.
“Yeah.” I pointed to Lature and said, “This my nigga right here."
Floyd said, “Oh, what's up, homie?” Then he dapped him up.
I said, “No, this is my nigga. Like this is the person I sleep with every night.”
He was like, “Oh, for real?”
I really liked Floyd. I liked what he stood for and I enjoyed learning more about his story. I regarded him in the same way that I regarded Rodney—that bigger brother figure, that person giving good advice, or that mentor. I really felt something special with Floyd the first day I met him, but I needed to know that this was going to be a real relationship. The litmus test of the relationship was Floyd knowing who I was and accepting that. There's a lot of testosterone around The Money Team, except for the strippers, so I wasn’t going to let them be any different with me.
