At the time, Dane Cook was one of the most popular comedians in the country. I met him at the Improv one night and asked him how he’d grown his audience. His answer: by getting email addresses; using the social media of that era, like MySpace; and having the patience to stay engaged in the lives of his fans.
When you have somebody who’s created a blueprint that’s working, all you gotta do is copy it. So Nate and I went to a copy shop and had three-by-five cards printed. As I ended each set, he’d pass them out and ask people to fill out their contact information—email, street address, phone, social media, everything. Then he’d add each person’s name to a database for that city.
The next time I came through town, we’d hit up everyone on email, on MySpace, by phone—everything short of knocking on their door. Before the show, Nate, Na’im (when I could get him an opening spot), and I would go to malls, barbershops, and shopping streets to hand out flyers.
After each show, I’d treat the audience just like customers at City Sports. I’d spend some time talking with them about their life, and make sure to remember their names and stories if they came to another show. Sometimes I’d even exchange phone numbers with them so I could reach out in a more personal way next time I was in town. Afterward, I’d start seeing them in the audience all the time—some of them still, to this day.
My new business manager had worked out a payment plan with the IRS, and I needed to make more money at the shows. So Nate and I set up a merchandise table at each club. We couldn’t afford actual merchandise like T-shirts, so instead we bought a Polaroid camera. After each show, Nate would stand there with the camera and talk audience members into paying twenty dollars to take a photo with me, which I’d then personalize and sign.
Desperation is the best motivator there is. If I hadn’t sunk so low, I wouldn’t have been willing to work so hard. But I was happy busting my ass on the road. We were creating a business that was completely ours.
68
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THE MANY FACES OF KEVIN HART (ALL OF WHICH ARE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, CONFUSED)
Here’s a life lesson: If you’re having problems in your relationship, getting married or having children is not going to solve them. It’s just going to create new problems.
This may be common sense to most intelligent human beings. It wasn’t to me. So I continued to learn it the hard way.
Torrei’s and my endless argument about my work took on a new dimension. Now she resented me for leaving her with Heaven and making the baby her sole responsibility, and I resented her because she didn’t seem to understand that parenting isn’t just about being physically present with a child. It’s also about providing for a child—food, clothing, shelter, education, opportunities. I thought about how hard my mom had worked to provide for me. She wasn’t present all the time, but she was the most caring mother I could imagine.
Almost every time I left for a show and every time I returned, there was an argument. And one night, as my parenting, my career, and my mother were all being attacked, I ran out of patience. Do I have so little self-respect that I’m allowing someone to talk to me like this? Instead of leaving, like a man who actually had self-respect would do, I began yelling back at her. Between the two of us that night, hairbrushes were thrown, mirrors were broken, and our only television set was smashed.
Heaven somehow slept through this, thanks either to the white-noise machine in her room or the fact that she was so used to it by now that it sounded like white noise. Our neighbors, however, called the cops on us again, and soon there was a loud knocking on the front door.
I opened it as calmly as I could and saw two cops standing there. “Officers, we’re fine. It’s no big deal.”
They looked around the house and saw the mess. “No, no,” one of the officers said. “We need to separate you two.”
He seemed to know our situation. All of a sudden I realized that it was the same officer who had shown up when Torrei and I were fighting during her pregnancy.
He looked at me like I was a piece of shit, which is exactly what I was—the kind of guy who’s always got cops in his living room breaking up domestic disputes. “We’re taking you in,” the officer said.
When I was released the next day, I moved back into my old apartment, where J.T. was still living. After a few days, I visited Heaven, and ended up staying with Torrei again for a week. I went back and forth between the two apartments, wrestling with myself.
Single Kevin: We’re always fighting. We’re always going at each other. One of us is going to end up in prison for real one of these days. Our shit’s still not right, and it’s never gonna be right. Fuck this. I’m outta here.
Relationship Kevin: How can I be so selfish? I’m not only walking out on my wife, I’m walking out on my daughter. There’s a name for people who do this: deadbeat dads. I can’t be a deadbeat dad. I don’t want my daughter to come from a broken home. I’m going back.
Single Kevin: This is worse than before. We’re not united as parents. We’re not happy together. It’s fine for us to destroy our lives, but we can’t destroy the life of this innocent child. I’m out!
Relationship Kevin: Why did I leave? I can deal with any heckler in any crowd, but I can’t handle my own wife? Put yourself in her shoes: She left her job and came to L.A. because I invited her. Now she’s here. She has no family and no job, and she’s trapped with my child. How could I be so selfish? I need to go back to that poor woman and apologize.
Single Kevin: I just wanna be happy. I’m—
Relationship Kevin: No, I’m not. I’m not gonna be happy if I’m a fucked-up father who abandoned his family. I’m . . .
Single Kevin: . . . going.
Relationship Kevin: . . . staying.
Both Kevins: Fuuuuuuuuuuck!
It was relationship Ping-Pong. I was in, I was out. I was there, I was gone. I felt good, I felt bad. I loved Torrei, I hated Torrei. I loved God, God hated me.
In the end, the same tenacity that enabled me to take so many whuppings from Hollywood and keep coming back for more also kept me coming back to Torrei, hoping that if I worked harder, things would go differently.
69
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MY EIGHTEENTH LUCKY BREAK
One day, I got lucky.
Katt Williams had gotten a role in an action movie called Fool’s Gold, which was shooting in Australia. But he’d gotten in trouble with the law and wasn’t allowed to leave the country. The casting agents called Dave and said they needed a comedian as soon as possible to play a villain in the film named Bigg Bunny.