Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2)

Negative one hundred and seventy two dollars was the approximate “amount” in my bank account. A haunted apartment in West Harlem led me to a psychic gypsy in the East Village. Biblical warnings kept me away from those types, deemed demonic and unsavory, but I was desperate and scared. Ignoring the paranormal events taking place wasn’t working anymore. Hoping she’d shed some light on wtf I was, I went, my last resort. Psychic Shanna didn’t have a doorknob, you could see straight into her home. She feared no one for a reason. I didn’t know that then, but boy was I about to learn. Once I rendered her services no longer necessary, she placed an evil eye on me. I went from having my own apartment, a well paying job and an internship with artist Maxi Cohen, on the brink of becoming a full time gig, to couch surfing, losing everything down to my cat. The epitome of living on a prayer.

Getting a job became impossible. Thanks to her evil eye only scams came in, one I fell for which is how I ended up owing the bank. I needed money ASAP Rocky and escorting was not an option, I mean it was, but I’m not that type of girl. Serving was my only hope, a path I avoided for two reasons 1) the money was fast, consistent and addictive, I didn’t want to get comfortable 2) there are no margins of error, a simple mistake and someone could DIE; do you realize the weight of waiters? Hello allergies. Also between school and interning, back of house experience was all I had time for before. How hard could the transition be with Danny Meyer on my resume though?
Try super hard and not in the fun way. Without two years NYC serving experience I was met with constant rejection. Miss Lily’s, a tony Caribbean restaurant in Soho, was the only place that took a chance on me. Being hot was their main criteria, they’d teach me everything else.

By the skin of my teeth is how I finished training, there was so much turmoil occurring in my life I wasn’t focused (plus I called out to attend Kylie Jenner’s Galore Magazine party, priorities). Before my final training, the general manager, Krystyna, informed me this was my last shot. Out of my trainers six tables, I was given three to take as my own. Everything was riding on this. Truth be told no one believed I’d make it, just another pretty face on her way to getting cut. Couldn’t open a bottle of wine to save my life at the time, but Jaquana brought in the most tip money that night, by a landslide. We stood in a circle filling out the tip sheet, each of us announcing our earnings. I went last, when I spoke there was silence. Surpassing my trainer by nearly $200 on a slow night might I add, he stared daggers at me. Everyone was astounded. Turns out I had a knack for selling without selling, my specialty was getting people drunk. My liquor sales were unparalleled, I went from working dead nights like Sunday’s and Monday’s, to money nights Thursday, Friday, Saturday. A HUGE deal at Miss Lily’s, there was definitely a hierarchy and favoritism. Money nights weren’t given to just anybody, which left a lot of senior staff who campaigned for years to work those shifts fuming. Emptying pockets was my thing, bringing in the most tip became my niche everywhere I went.

Miss Lily’s was the Studio 54 of restaurants. Answers to questions I ruminated on for ages were answered there. Would Mick Jagger be into me? Would Anna Wintour disapprove of my attire, or person in general? Our regulars were celebrities, supermodel Chanel Iman always sat in my section. Musician Vic Mensa got so use to my service he’d try to pay me even if he ordered from someone else. Like the time he ordered take out from the bar. Mensa searched for then spotted me, sliding his credit card into my hand wordlessly. Confused.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Ahhh, because you always do it…” he responded equally puzzled.
“Well who did you order with?” He points to the bartender. I instruct him to give her the card. Mensa walks over, looking back at me every other step, like a child being dropped off to pre-school for the first time. I nod giving him reassurance throughout the whole transaction, you’ve got this kid, I believe in you. And it is me he thanks on his way out.

Countless famous patrons poured in, nearly everyday and when Chef Andre won Chopped twice it got bigger. FKA Twigs planned a beautiful birthday for Robert Pattinson, I was their server. Getting hit on also wasn’t unusual for me. I became desensitized, this was the norm. The only time I broke down was when Fabolous came in, he was so swagged out. Nessa, my work wife had to take my table while I cried in the vestibule. Really, out of everyone Fab? My peers ridiculed. For the rest of the night I just looked at him from different areas of the restaurant. Fan girl-ing was a big NO NO, which is why my interactions with Solange, Kelly Rowland and Naomi Campbell were beyond awkward, especially Solange. Mortified was an understatement.

The first time I met Genc Jakupi I had no idea who he was. Wiping down tables in the front I smelled the most alluring scent, searching for the source I found him checking me out on his way upstairs. I thought he was just a neighbor, but the owners lived above the restaurant. Mistakenly I believed this lovely elderly couple, my first friends were the owners, Feride & Agron. They were actually his parents. I found out who he was the night of a blood moon eclipse. There we were patrons and employees alike craning our necks for this most celestial event, when a voice behind us ask “Is anybody working?” The look of fear in my co-workers eyes, pure terror as they scrambled to get back inside. Genc, who had presented himself as nothing short of polite in our small interactions notices I notice. “Relax, relax it was a joke. I was joking,” he adds. Taking one for the team I allow Nessa and Mo to stay outside while I manned the place. Genc didn’t scare me, he made me nervous, but I felt safe with him.

“You’re going to get fired,” Nessa pleaded with me to serve Genc’s table, but I refused! Yes he was in my section, but he was also pretending one of the aerialist from The Box was his girlfriend. He’d been in there with a different woman every time I’d seen him and this one was being super rude to me. He was trying to make me jealous, but all it did was anger me. Nessa, who had the entirety of the front had to come to service his table. He watched irately as I delighted tables with laughter and stellar service. If he fired me he’d never see me again, so he didn’t. Genc’s love for me gave me power (I thought he was my twin flame, he wasn’t). My bosses would be chewing me out, as SOON as he entered they did a 180. It became that he didn’t even need to be there, no one was allowed to disrespect me. Ever. Infuriating his brother, who was left in charge of watching me when Genc moved indefinitely to Europe. His brother watched me like a hawk day and night, night and day. He had it out for me since NYE, when I got wasted on the clock and went to sleep in the front of the packed restaurant. I should have been fired, I didn’t even get a write up. However I was punished. Chiwetel Ejiofor from 12 Years A Slave was one of my tables. They were heading to Future’s concert after party and I was invited. Didn’t get to go for obvious reasons.

Genc moved to Europe indefinitely pretty early in my employment at Miss Lily’s. We never had a conversation, a date, sex, anything, he was use to women throwing themselves at him. I wasn’t that type of woman. Psychic Shanna told me the man I marry takes initiative and ask me out. I keep meeting boys with different faces and this would be how I know I found a man. Genc wasn’t a man. All he did was stalk me and run off potential suitors. His brother ended up falling for me when I blacked out one night. That’s when everything took a turn. Via: Buzzfeed


Frutti Don’t Give AF

Me looking at my last fuck given running into the night…Y’all niggas not gonna stress me out no more. If Mick wants to start fights over a photo of me and Jordan Barrett (who I wrote to saying he was too young for me to date, the irony) do you Michael, if no one wants to listen to me so now it’s seven vs. two to die because of rat face Melanie doing satanist deals, cool bro, if you don’t want to be saved and connect your energy to the Kardashian Jenner West family, quite frankly I don’t give a fuck. Do you, I’m taking a break from saving hoes with a mask and a cap; I have enough responsibility. When was the last time you were on your Blair Waldorf, walking out the store with a pair of glasses you stole, because you just had it? Via: Rock Roll Repeat

Jordan Kale Barrett

You didn’t think Genc Jakupi with his basic ass, mediocre acting, and pipe dreams of the big screen was the star of this story? No, no, no, Jordan Kale Barrett is what catapulted me into the eyes of celebrities. He’s the reason they all took an interest in me, how could they not when he made me a whopping twenty of his instagram AND snapchat stories on the night of this picture? The honey haired prince, the embodiment of white entitlement, a blue eyed, blonde hair caucasian male supermodel, an Aryan dream.

Jordan and I first met in 2015 I believe. He was sitting across the street from Webster Hall, rolling out of his mind. I was walking down the street in search of my friend. Halfway down the block this beautiful, adrogynous, feline creature springs from a stoop, asking if I have a cigarette (or lighter). He was so awkward, complimenting me in a nervous manner about my looks. If he weren’t gorgeous he would be creepy. I didn’t find out who he was until I saw him on Hailey Bieber’s instagram post.

“That’s the boy from the stoop!” I shared the picture with my friend. I followed him immediately. We had a connection in our short interaction, made evident on the night he ran into me at Miss Lily’s in 2017.

I was off the clock and WASTED. I’d won the specials contest (as usual, selling the most fish) and was rewarded with said meal, alongside copious amounts of liquor. Now this was a perk of being protected by Genc. I pretty much did whatever the hell I wanted. This didn’t sit well with his jealous brother, or the other people who were use to Genc being ruthless. He was known to fire people for lesser offenses than anything I’d done, which included sleeping on the clock, at work, after getting drunk on New Year’s, did I mention the restaurant was packed? Had no idea how I got home, still made it to work the following brunch. Honestly, Genc getting his information from other people, never communicating with me directly, made him a monster towards me. In his Albanian culture women are viewed as property, his brother felt I didn’t know my place. His brother who robbed him of the truth, tried to hook up with me and is now married with a kid. While Genc remains anguished.
Jordan was coming to see if he could throw his Chrome Hearts sunglasses launch party at the restaurant. I spotted him as my friends and I drunkenly ran up and down the street.

“Jordan!”
“You work here?” he replied. As if no time had passed, like we’d known each other forever. Grabbing him by the waist we take several photos, deciding this was the best one. Never letting go we walk inside. We hang out for hours. This infuriates the Jakupi brother’s, who are watching from the cameras, while receiving text updates from Kendall the manager. EVERYBODY who saw us asked if we knew each other, such was the strength of our bond. Jordan asked for my number in a roundabout way. Feeling indebted to Genc, who I thought was my twin, who fired countless people on my behalf, I directed him to Kendall. He promised to come back the next day, declining to go to The Box, because he had a shoot the next morning.

He never came. Thank god too, Genc’s brother waited for him all day. What his intentions were I’ll never know. When Jordan didn’t show, his brother took his anger out on me. This is how I ended up suing and winning. Once they realized the nature of Jordan’s visit, they tried to email me to make amends, but I was over it (Olatz Schnabel posted Jordan’s photo so they could find out who he was). I’d been paper trailing them from the year prior when a line cook, a short Mexican man with a Napoleonic complex, believing himself white (until I reminded him they were building a wall to keep him out), called me a nigga and threw a plate at my head. He missed. The staff was blamed. Underestimated, no one bothered to look into my background. Assuming based on my short skirts, that I was like the other girls, only relevant due to a job there. Not very educated. Not connected. Needing them for some semblance of the fame they sought as artists. Products of systemic racism. Bitch I been going to events. By the time they realized who I was it was too late. Genc started spreading lies about me from that day on, forcing me to make my social media public to tell the truth.

Jordan Barrett freed me, which came with a lot of hate. Like Genc, Jordan is a womanizer and all the women who fawned over him hated me. Kaia Gerber, who got his named tatted on her arm (which Cindy Crawford covered by saying it was for Michael Jordan, stop coddling your kids, that’s why they aren’t extraordinary like their legendary parents), Lila Moss cute, but that cherubic face is no sculpted Kate Moss, Caroline Vreeland, who covered the song Wicked Games (a song Jordan wrongfully attributes to me ), then removed it from her social media, Fanny something, Bella Hadid’s best friend, another victim who was enraged by his love for me, the list is endless. Women, who are really girls, preaching feminism, stalking me just to tear me down, over a boy who ain’t your boyfriend boo. No wonder he’s bored, you guys behaved like the women in the ads of the 50’s and 60’s, objects to be used and disposed of. What else did you expect then? Your mothers should have raised you better. To value yourself outside the male gaze, rather than support your embarrassing behavior, riddled with lack of: self-love, purpose, compassion, or intellect.

A Taste Of Part One

Where the story begins. I worked at Miss Lily’s in 2015 and Genc Jakupi is one of the owners. As a private person I was forced to make my social media public, because he was spreading lies about me. I never dated this man. I never spoke to this man beyond a few sentences. Yet he’s stalked me up until March of this year: breaking into my social media accounts, getting his friends and family to lie, breaking into my email, setting me up in an apartment to be watched, sending people to my work place, including Vashtie and preventing me from getting jobs amongst other things.

In 2016 I met Michael there, we made eye contact and I ran away, the runner in our twin flame connection. I never felt anything like that before. It scared me. And yet after complaining about Genc for years no one did anything to stop him, except for Mick. After a solid five years of him using his millions to stalk me, then my friend, causing ptsd. I am grateful Mick put up with all of my distress and finally got this psycho to leave me alone. This is just a teaser, a taste of part one, which will include Naomi Campbell and Jordan Barrett. As the story builds more and more celebrities get involved. Are you ready for one of the craziest stories in Hollywood and of your life? Via: Black Book Mag