Jemeker Thompson-Hairston - Queen Pin

I wish to thank my mother, Lonnie Johnson, for being the best mother that she could be. Your love, support, and encouragement have been consistent. Mom, without you, there would be no me. Thank you for my exposure to Christ at an early age. Experiencing some of your struggles with you has enabled me to stand strong during the storm.

Thank you to my three princes: Anthony M. Mosley, you are a great joy to me and I thank God for your Angel that continues to protect you; and my two sons through marriage, Kevin Hairston, who could not be loved more if biological, and Rodney Jamil (RJ) Hairston, who is far away but ever close in our hearts.

To Eera (Sumer) West, you spent tireless months, days, and hours writing, reading, correcting, and rewriting this manuscript, along with my husband, Champ. You are truly one of my dearest friends.

Thank you to my closest friends, Evangelist Tynia Dean, Anita Kaufman, Sonya Morgan Charles, Marcia Turner, Robin Cash, and Sherry Galarsa. These ladies helped to push me toward my destiny. There is no greater blessing than to be surrounded by true friends who know who you really are and are willing to let you be you!

My spiritual mothers: Pastor Cassandra Steptoe, Pastor Dorothy Evans, Pastor Rosalind Bunett, Pastor Eloise Carey, Jean Hayward, Dorothy Anderson, Ann Williams, and Carlynn Fanning. Thank you for your prayers, counsels, and never-ending encouragement.

To my mother-in-law, Nina Goins, who I call Mom, for accepting me as your daughter, not in-law. Thank you for being a believer of the Word that if you pray for your children, God will save them (Isa 49:24). Your prayers in asking God to send someone to your son whom he would listen to opened the door for me to be instrumental in leading him to Christ. Praise God!

My brothers, Johnny Johnson, Fernando Thompson, Clifton Butts and my sister, Priscilla Thompson.

My grandsons, Yoshi Blaine Yoshihama and Carter Anthony Mosley.

My in-laws, Kenneth and Glenda Hairston, Terry and Stephenie Mack, Todd and Rocelle Hairston, NiDon Goins, Rochelle Mason, and Loretta Johnson. Thank you for loving me as family.

My pastor, Marlon Saunders, and First Lady Tamara Saunders, and the Valencia Christian Center church family. Thank you for the love, support, and prayers that you have showered on me.

Gobi M. Iranian, who made it possible for me to obain my book deal by making my DVD. Thank you for your time and effort.

A special thanks to actor Wren Brown, for coming into my life and believing in my vision of bringing Queen Pin to life. I can never repay you for your positive feedback.

Thank you, Karen R. Thomas, executive editor of Grand Central Publishing, for your belief in me, which pushed me to another level.

My lawyer, Jeff Siberman, thank you for having faith in me and my dream. I love you so much.

My manager, Barry Krost.

My literary agent, David Vigliano of Vigliano Associates.

My writers, David Ritz and Geoff Martin.

My doctors, Laurence Bruksch and Carla E. Herriford.

And, finally, my first husband, Anthony M. (Daff) Mosley, whose presence in my earlier life was instrumental in the birth of Queen Pin.

T heres nothing better to start my day than a bubble bath.

A warm bubble bath always clears my head and calms my nerves. As long as Im in the tub, my body is relaxed, my mind calm, my emotions at ease, and my soul at peace. Im on the top floor of a luxury South Beach Miami hotel, overlooking the beautiful turquoise blue of the ocean.

Last night, I ended up with a man whose bed I left just hours agoa one-night stand with one of the Kansas City Chiefs. I dont care if I ever hear from him again. Last night wasnt about him, it was all about me.

Suddenly the phone rings.

I jump.

My eyes open and my stomach feels ill.

I used to be happy when the phone rang. A ringing phone meant business was good. Now it makes me wonder if they know where I am.

Im alone and confused and unwilling to admit it. Im not living in the deepest part of my mind. Instead, Im living on the surface and skating over thin ice. Im holding on to control because theyve been chasing me. Ive been running so that I cant be caught. Being caught is not an option. There are no mistakes allowed. They can make mistakes. But I cant. As long as I stay in control, I keep my freedom.

I listen to the phone ring. Could be the front desk and could be the Feds. All I know is that no one should be calling me here. So much for relaxation; my therapy session is over.

I climb out of the tub and begin to dress myself: Bob Mackie suit, Maud Frizon pumps, gold Rolex, diamond tennis bracelet, imported Italian wig. Everything that Im not wearing is packed and ready to go.

The phone continues to ring and the gears in my head continue to turn.

If its the front desk calling, they dont know Im in this room. If its somebody else, I dont know what they know.

I have several aliases, each with a matching ID and credit card: Jann Quinn, Wanda Jones, Lisa Jones, and the one Ive got with meTami Jones. The IDs say everything but Jemeker Mosley, whom the FBI wants for conspiracy to distribute cocaine, money laundering, and I dont know what else.

I know what Ive done.

If they know, it means life without parole.

Im not going out like that. Theyll have to kill me to catch me.

One thing at a time, I tell myself. Get it together. Make it to the airport. Keep moving. The important thing is not to panic.

I grab the rest of my belongings from the nightstand but the last item stops me cold. Its a photograph of a happy, smiling nine-year-old boy. He looks just like Jane, Tami, Wanda, Lisa, and Jemeker. Its the only thing they all have in commona beautiful son named Anthony.

Seeing his picture takes me back to happier times. Back to before they were chasing me. The memories flood my mindthe first time Anthony called me Mama, his first birthday party, the first time my baby told me he loved me.

Get it together, Jemeker.

I usually dont mix what I feel and what I do. But when I see my baby, its difficultI havent held him in my arms in six months. We used to be inseparablewherever I went, he went. Now he stays with my mother, where he can go to school and have a normal life, not like mine. But Lord knows I miss my son.

When I call, it always ends the same:

I miss you, Mom.

I miss you too, baby. And Ill be there soon.

Thats what you said last timewhen you said youd come to Grannys for Christmas. Then it was Easter. When are you coming home?

By the time hes in tears, Im asking myself how Ill ever make it up to him. I can live with everything Ive done except for this.

But Jemeker cant go home.

Once a week, the Feds case the office where Jemeker built up her hair business. They cant open the books or the cash box because its a legitimate company, but they can stake it out, which is exactly what they do. And when they arent doing that, theyre at my mothers house, harassing her as well.

Wheres your daughter, Missus Johnson?

I dont know. Same as the last time you came around.

Do you know that your daughter is one of the biggest cocaine dealers in America?

Thats the message my mother relays when I call her. She says that the Feds are asking about me.

And what did you say?

The truth. I dont know your business.

Did you get the money I sent? I ask.

Yeah.

Its quiet for a moment. Anthonys sixth grade graduation is the day after tomorrow, she says, then adds, He wants you to be there.