I always love people who give unsolicited advice, like, “Why haven’t you interviewed such-and-such?” It’s rarely that easy. Phone interviews are bland, and stock photos are corny. Getting exclusives requires a lot of patience, flexibility, and ego-massaging. This month’s Trick Daddy’s cover is a prime example:

October 9th, 2004: Backstage at a Miami concert, Trick asks, “Who owns OZONE?” “Me,” I reply. “Don’t be puttin’ my name in the middle of shit,” he says. I’m confused ‘til I remember the T.I. vs. Lil Flip article, in which Trick’s name was mentioned. “Do that with them other niggas, but not me. Keep me out of it,” he says. After the show I inform him that he’s going to be on our November cover. “It’s about time,” he responds. “So you’re not mad at me?” I ask. “Nah, I just wanted to tell you that,” he says. “You want me to set up the interview with your publicist?” I ask. “I don’t know them niggas,” he grumbles, “Call Charles.” His brother/manager Charles gives me his card.

October 25th, 2004: Trick has a show in Jacksonville, and his publicist Sydney has arranged our interview to be done at the radio station before the show. I’m only halfway surprised when Sydney calls to cancel the day before. “Trick doesn’t want to do anything for OZONE,” says Sydney. I explain to him the T.I./Flip conversation. “He’s just emotional right now,” Sydney says. “He’ll get over it.” I can’t find Charles’ card. We substitute T.I. for Trick on the November cover.

November 20th, 2004: Trick Daddy’s drunk in the VIP lounge of the Roxy, loudly asking female fans if they want a “cocktail” or “cock-in-their-tail.” I ask why why he cancelled. He gives me his number. “You can’t play me,” he says. “You’ve got to let me play you.” I call, no answer.

December 21st, 2004: The deadline for this issue has long passed, and since Trick is holding a toy drive in Miami, I’m scheduled to drive down for the interview. On the way, I call Sydney to confirm the time and location. Sydney’s assistant says he is on vacation. Sydney calls back and says to call Charles. After a few back-and-forth phone calls, Charles says that Trick doesn’t have time tomorrow. “He’s a bitch,” Charles says. “He’s gonna complain about having too much to do. We’ve got a show in Tampa on Sunday, so let’s do it then.” I reluctantly agree.

December 26th, 2004: I mention to another writer that I’m scheduled to interview Trick Daddy today. “Mr. Reliable himself,” he laughs. “Good luck.” I spend most of the afternoon calling Charles, trying to determine what time they’ll be arriving in Tampa. Their plane gets delayed two hours. We’re supposed to go to print tomorrow with no cover.

December 28th, 2004: Charles apologizes and says Trick was tired and needed to rest up before his show, but if I can drive down to Miami tomorrow we can definitely make it happen.

December 29th, 2004: Interview is scheduled for 4. At 3:30 I call Charles to find out the location. He says Trick wants to do it at 5 at a strip club. I call back at 4:30. Trick wants to do it at 6:30. I call back at 6, and Charles sounds exasperated. “Call Trick. And whatever he says about me, don’t believe it. It’s not true.” Interesting. I call Trick. “I got a guy comin’ over to give me a trim. Charles didn’t tell me this was for the cover. Can’t we do this in the morning?” Trick asks. I think, No, but I say, “I guess.” He tells me to call him first thing in the morning. Charles calls back, “What lies did he say about me?” He says to make sure I call Trick at 9 AM sharp.

December 30th, 2004: Since I’ve come this far, I’m determined that this interview will get done. My next-door neighbor in Miami, who has a habit of blasting music with their windows open, wakes me at 8:30 AM playing Trick’s Thug Matrimony. Ah, the irony. (I tell Trick this later, and he laughs, “They must be black.”) 9 AM sharp, I call Trick. No answer. I call Charles, who tells me to go to Trick’s house. Stopping by his house unannounced sounds like a bad idea, doesn’t it? Charles tells me to call Wendy, Trick’s marketing director, and follow her. Wendy and I go back and forth on the phone for an hour or so. She wants to know how much time I’ll need for the interview and shoot. 45 minutes. “Try to limit it to 30,” she responds. By that time my patience was about finished. But I’m running out of room, so let’s just say that the interview finally did get done. Now that you know my ordeal, please read the cover story on page 21.

OZONE made the NY Post’s infamous Page Six. They reprinted some of our “groupie confessions” from the sex issue - which conclusively proves that mentioning Jay-Z’s dick is the quickest way to get attention in New York. :) - Julia Beverly, jb@ozonemag.com