'Keep the Faith' by Faith Evans

Faith Evans has seen it all and then some. She was the wife of Notorious B.I.G, one of the greatest rappers who ever lived, who was also tragically murdered in what many consider to be a hip-hop beef turned violent. She was rumored to have had an affair with one of rap’s most infamous personalities, and Biggie’s so-called rival, 2Pac. She was the enemy of hip-hop’s most outspoken femme fatales, Lil’ Kim, and was the first woman signed to Sean “P. Diddy” Combs’ flagship music label Bad Boy. She was a media scapegoat, experienced firsthand the gritty underbelly of the music business, and had her personal life laced in the lyrics of rap songs—all before she turned 25.

Below, you will find an excerpt from this highly anticipated memoir from Faith Evans hitting stores August 29th, 2008.

Prologue

I thought I had more time. And it was already too late. On a late night in March 1997, I was in a car with my girlfriends, climbing up the Hollywood Hills on the way to a party.

"You gon' call Big and let him know you coming?" my friend Toni asked.

"I'll see him when we get there," I said, trying my best to look unconcerned.

Toni just rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You know you can't wait to see him. What if he's acting funny?"

I smiled. "He better speak to me. He knows what's up."

We joked and laughed as we parked the car and made our way up the private driveway of a house that music executive Andre Harrell had rented for an event. Before I could get very close, a car driving away from the property stopped next to me. Inside was rapper Heavy D.

"Faith," he said to me. "You need to get to the hospital."

I didn't immediately think about the shots I'd heard earlier. "The hospital . . . for what? What's wrong?"

"Faith. Get back in the car. You need to get to the hospital."

Heavy's face was serious, and I felt my throat tighten and my heart start to race.

Heavy D answered my question before I could ask it.

"I think something happened to Big."

Sometimes, it seems like Los Angeles is some kind of magical land where nothing can go wrong. I'm from Newark, New Jersey — a place where there are four seasons. Some days are bright and sunny; some are dark, rainy, and cold. There can be two feet of snow piled at your front door, waiting to be shoveled. Or you can be stuck in a heat wave with no air-conditioning, struggling to stay dry.

But the City of Angels is different. The constant sunshine and ocean views can make me feel like anything is possible. When I arrived, one week before the party in the Hollywood Hills, it felt like the kind of day when nothing could go wrong.

I was in town for a week of parties and events surrounding the Soul Train Music Awards. I flew out with my infant son, CJ, planning to make the usual music industry rounds while doing a bit of publicity on local radio and television stations.

But I had more on my mind than just work.

The Notorious B.I.G. — CJ's father and my estranged husband, the man I called Big — would also be in town. His sophomore album, Life After Death, would be released in three weeks, and he was in town to present at the awards and promote his new CD.

Big and I weren't together. And we hadn't been for some time. In fact, I knew that he was dating someone new. We were still married but we were moving on. I'd met this great guy named Todd whom I was really feeling. We planned to go out while I was in LA. And yet, Big and I had been through so much together. We'd fallen in love fast and hard. He loved my daughter like he loved his own. And I'd given birth to our son just four months before. We had a bond that could not be ignored — no matter how hard either of us tried.

I was so young. And in a lot of ways, even though I'd lived enough for two women, I was still a bit immature. I remember on that night, my plan was to run into Big and let him see that I was doing fine without him. I knew we'd cross paths at a few of the parties. And I wanted to make sure he saw me looking cute and having a great time. As a matter of fact, I felt like I needed the entire music industry to see that. With all the whispering being done behind my back for a number of reasons, I wanted people to know that I wasn't hiding, I wasn't afraid, I wasn't heartbroken, and I was still having the time of my life.

The official afterparty for the Soul Train Awards, sponsored by Vibe magazine, was held in the Petersen Automotive Museum. Earlier that day, I'd gone to a celebrity basketball game with a few of my girlfriends; after dropping off my son at the home of my girlfriend's mother, we were off to the museum.

During the ride, we smoked a blunt and I began to relax and let my mind wander. I thought about how my friends would make sure to let me know exactly when Big walked into the room. Or perhaps the DJ would announce his arrival by playing "One More Chance," one of his biggest hits and a song I sang background vocals on. I also thought about Todd. I knew he'd be there. We'd been seeing each other whenever we could. And we'd planned to go hang out that weekend while I was in town.

For some reason, I wasn't dressed up at all that night. I'd always taken pride in my appearance — especially at industry events. But that night, I wore a sweat suit in a fatigue pattern and a pair of Timberland construction boots. Looking back, I know I probably dressed that way because I was on high alert.

There were so many misconceptions circulating about me at the time. And everyone thought they knew the real story about my relationship with Big; my rumored relationship with his sworn enemy Tupac; my son with Big; my beef with Lil' Kim — I had taken a beating in the court of public opinion.

And honestly, I was ready to fight the first person who said the wrong thing to me. I wasn't looking over my shoulder that night. But I was ready for whatever.

We got to the party early, and Big wasn't there. I kept to my friends as we drank and smoked, trying to look like we were paying no attention to whoever came in. But of course, we all had our eyes peeled. By the time Big came in with his entourage, the place was crowded enough that we couldn't see each other.

Before long, a friend of Big's came up to me, asking me if I'd seen Big. I knew instantly that he'd been sent to scout me out. He smoked with us for a little while and then slipped back into the crowd. From where I stood, I watched him walk toward a doorway leading to a larger room with more guests. I knew Big was in there, and I thought about going over to him.

Through the years, I've thought a lot about why I didn't go over and speak to Big that night. Part of it had to be pride — I've got a lot of it. And I wasn't about to look like I was playing myself out. Please. Walking through a crowded party to see him? I don't think so. I needed him to see me. I never actually decided I wasn't going to talk to Big. I just figured I'd have all night to run into him and say a few words.

And then I saw Todd and started talking to him and his friends when they came by to say hello. But it was hard to forget Big's presence. Especially since the DJ played Big's new single, "Hypnotize," on repeat for the entire night.

There was talk of an after-afterparty in the Hollywood Hills, and I needed no convincing. As I headed to the car with my friends, we heard some commotion coming from the exit to the museum. I thought I heard someone say something about shots ringing out, but we were able to get into our car and out of the lot with no problem, so we didn't think twice about it. Our driver had followed a long line of cars up La Cienega Boulevard and into the Hollywood Hills.

It's been over ten years since Big was killed.

Oh God . . . oh God . . . oh God . . . oh . . . God. Please let him be okay. Please please let him be okay . . .

I barely remember the ride from the Hollywood Hills to the hospital. I just remember rocking back and forth and mumbling and praying to myself. I was trying to think positive. Just because Big was shot didn't mean that the worst had happened. He could just be wounded. Could be sitting right there in the waiting room with his arm bandaged up. And then I could just run up to him and throw my arms around him and give him a hug and a kiss.

The car drove right up to the front entrance to the emergency room, where a small crowd had formed. I spotted some random faces that looked familiar, but I didn't see the main people I needed to see: Puff, Lil' Cease, D-Roc—the people who could tell me what was going on.

There were police officers and security guards keeping people from coming into the hospital. And then I saw an old friend of mine, DJ Rogers, standing near the front door.

"That's his wife," he said, walking over toward me and leading me to one of the officers standing guard. "She needs to go inside."

I was ushered through the emergency room and into a smaller waiting room. Inside was Sean "Puffy" Combs, the head of my record label. Mark Pitts, Big's manager, was sitting next to him. There was also Stevie J, one of Bad Boy's producers; Paul, the security guard who traveled with Bad Boy; and Damion " D- Roc" Butler, one of Big's best friends. They were all sitting there with blank faces. And they all had their heads down, looking at the floor.

Oh God . . . please . . . please let him be okay. I will stay with him tonight. I will. Forget all this arguing. I'll go get CJ. We can go out for breakfast or something . . .

Puffy was the first person to come over to me. He was walking so slowly and his lips were pursed so tight that it looked like he was physically in a lot of pain.

"Puff, what happened? What's going on? Where's Big? Is he okay?"

Puff looked up at me. "Faith . . ." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes.

"I'm gonna let the doctor talk to you."

Puff left the room and came back with a tall, older white man.

"This is his wife," Puff said to the doctor. Then he returned to his seat.

"Mrs. Wallace," the doctor said. "We tried to revive your husband. We massaged his heart several times to get it beating again but we were unsuccessful."

"What are you saying?" I asked him.

"The bullets ricocheted through his body. We could not revive him."

"You're not going to try again? You have to try again!"

"Mrs. Wallace, we can't."

The doctor never used the word dead. But it hit me. Big was gone. The enormity of what had happened started to slip over me and I began to shake uncontrollably. For some reason, I didn't cry, I just panicked. I was wearing several rings at the time and I just started yanking them off and dropping them on the floor.

Someone led me to a chair. I sat down. And I wept quietly for twenty minutes. My husband and the father of my newborn son was dead. All the tension that had been building over the past year had reached a cataclysmic end. In that moment I felt like I'd known all along that something tragic was bound to happen.

It's been over ten years since Big was killed. I grieved for a very long time. And then, as time passed, the icy wall of grief surrounding my heart began to thaw and I began to heal.

I remarried, had more children, and continued to record and release more music. I continued to live my life. And while I can never discount the time I spent with Big, I've never felt the need to live in the past.

But sometimes, I still find myself thinking about Big being rushed into that hospital, and I break down in tears.

It's not just because we hung up on each other during what would be our last telephone conversation. And it's not because the last time I saw him, I barely glanced his way. And it's not even because I am raising our son, a young man who has never known his father.

It's partly all of those things. But mainly, it's because he wasn't ready to go. His debut album was called Ready to Die. But in the end, he wasn't.

Big never got a chance to tell his story. It's been left to others to tell it for him.

In making the decision to tell my own story, it means that I've become one of those who can give insight to who Big really was. But I can only speak on what he meant to me.

Yet I also want people to understand that although he was a large part of my life, my story doesn't actually begin or end with Big's death. My journey has been complicated on many levels. And since I am always linked to Big, there are a lot of misconceptions about who I really am.

I hope that in reading my words, there is inspiration to be found. Perhaps you can duplicate my success or achieve where I have failed. Maybe you can skip over the mistakes I've made. Use my life as an example—of what to do and in some cases, what not to do.

It's not easy putting your life out there for the masses. But I've decided I'll tell my own story. For Big. For my children. And for myself.

Copyright © 2008 by Faith Evans

© 2008 Hachette Book Group USA

by Faith Evans with Aliya S. King

Grand Central Publishing Hardcover

Publication date: August 29, 2008

$24.99

351 pages

ISBN-10: 0-446-19950-8 ISBN-13: 978-0-446-19950-6