This is a random story about Ja Rule

It’s 2001 in Greensboro, NC. My stepmother co-owns a small recording studio along with her chief sound engineer, a charming Canadian man who suffers from insomnia. It’s shortly after 2 a.m. and the studio phone rings. It’s Ja Rule, or more accurately it’s one of his entourage. Mr. Rule has been bitten by the creative bug after a concert and he needs to record. He needs to record right now.

Nobody is in the studio except the engineer, who, naturally, is finishing up work late at night (this was a regular thing for him). Seeing the opportunity he tells Ja Rule’s representatives that he’d be fine having him in. Twenty minutes later a small fleet of cars pull up. The booth is ready for him to record and the mics are hot. It’s at this time Ja Rule says he needs to “relax” before laying down his track.

“Relaxing” meant drinking and playing chess. A lot of chess. Endless games of rapid-fire pawn moving with $500-1000 being exchanged after every game. Occasionally they’re asked when Ja Rule wants to record to which the response is always “soon.” At one point Ja Rule found out that the man supposed to record his track was from Montreal. He said “Let me ask you: is it the realest?” then laughed ... it was his joke.

Fast-forward to 4 a.m. The chess games are over and Ja Rule is asleep on the sofa in the recording studio’s lobby. Perhaps he’s passed out, but that would be to unnecessarily besmirch his character -- so let’s go with asleep. Despite having a suite in the nicest hotel in town Ja Rule is “not to be disturbed.”

Now it’s 9 a.m. The daytime employees are coming to work. Regulars begin to filter in to record -- Ja Rule is still asleep on the couch. Remember, he’s “not to be disturbed,” and who’s going to disturb Ja Rule? It isn’t until after noon that he rouses and leaves the studio. Before walking out one of his people stops by the small office and leaves a stack of money. It’s $15,000. Ja Rule never returned to the studio.

He didn’t record a single word.