Upstairs in his owner’s suite, Jay Z leaned back on one of the white leather sofas that line the large room. The noise in this room came from the game on two large flatscreen TVs and the loud camaraderie of Jay’s guests—most of whom are his closest friends, people who’ve been in his inner circle for years.
Among them: Juan Perez, the president of the newly formed Roc Nation Sports; William “World Wide Wes” Wesley, a consultant to CAA Sports, which has recently partnered with Roc Nation Sports; Tyran “Ty Ty” Smith, a friend of Jay’s for 25 years and head of A&R for Roc Nation Records; and his longtime trusted publicist, Jana Fleishman.
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Jay wore a white T-shirt, black hoodie, jeans, and striped socks from the Stance sock company (he’s an investor). His white sneakers were in front of him on the floor.
When you meet Jay Z for the first time, or even the first few times, or get a rare, perfunctory interview, he is a thoughtful, guarded, reticent man. Not aloof—just cool. His friend the producer Rick Rubin once described Jay to me as “the coolest guy in the room.” Any room.
Everyone knows he’s really smart, really talented, really rich, and wildly successful. But in his private suite, he’s the Jay Z that only his friends and family get to see: extroverted, curious, gregarious, hilarious, and downright chatty. He laughs a lot—his trademark short, staccato laugh.
Juan Perez and I tried to explain to Beyoncé how, as Knicks fans, we hate the Heat. And the Celtics. It’s the law. A waitress took drink and food orders: spicy shrimp, guacamole, French fries, sliders. By the third quarter, with the Spurs ahead by 10 points and looking like they’d win the championship, Jay said, “This is over.” A few minutes later, LeBron’s headband accidentally fell off, Miami’s Ray Allen hit a three-pointer to tie the score, and the game went into overtime. The room turned even more raucous.
Juan Perez was apoplectic. Jay was rooting for the Heat, who won the game by three points, which meant the finals would go to a Game Seven. Which meant another night in the 40/40.
Two nights later, Game Seven, the same suite, more friends. On hand were Jay’s best friend, Emory Jones, who’s a partner in Jay’s clothing company; Chaka Pilgrim, head of creative visionary marketing for the Roc Nation conglomerate; John Meneilly, from Jay’s management team; and former Def Jam Records executive Kevin Liles. More food, more drinks, more yelling at the screens.
D’Ussé, Jay’s preferred brand of Cognac, was served. Cash-money bets were discussed. Cigars were discussed. Jay showed me the “Shawn Carter” watch he designed for Hublot, which will cost somewhere around $20,000 and will be out later this year. Jay shouted at the screens, calling various players various nicknames: The Heat’s Shane Battier became “Bang Bang” Battier! One of the Spurs guards—who was having a terrible series—was “Apple Turnover!” The actor Jamie Foxx stopped by.
(Later, Foxx told me that when his father got out of “mandatory college” [jail] the first concert he took his father to see was Jay Z’s in Miami. “It was after 9/11,” Foxx said, “and the city had just stopped still. But Jay just brought everyone together. My father cried.”)
