“What? Torrei, we’re separated. The only contact we’ve had for over a year is about our kids. Do you really think that I’m not doing anything? And if I am, that’s not information I need to report to you or anyone else.”
It was the first time I actually had solid moral ground to stand on with her. Torrei, however, felt otherwise. She became malicious in a public way that I’d never experienced before. She attacked me and Eniko on social media, on the radio, on E! News. She seemed angrier over this than she’d been about the girl with the snake tattoo—and in a way, it was understandable, because at this level, our private humiliations were becoming public ones.
This was the downside to the fame that I’d wanted. But I never wanted to be famous as a human being. I wanted to be famous as a human doing. I wanted my shows to sell out, my movies to top the box office, my television shows to get good ratings. I wanted to build on these opportunities to do more and leave my mark on the world through my accomplishments, not my personal life.
When I had that thought, I started to laugh. Look at what people make important. Why does anyone give a shit about some comedian’s relationship status? If they have nothing better to do, let ’em talk. I’m going to make the choices that serve my happiness, not their expectations, and that’s all that matters.
I soon got to the point where I could shoulder-shrug it. In fact, the whole situation ended up helping Eniko’s and my relationship. When Eniko was dragged into the spotlight, and websites were calling her a home wrecker while strangers online called her a bitch, I got to see what her character was made of.
Though it was tough for Eniko to deal with, she didn’t freak out, accuse me of ruining her life, or take it out on me in any way. She just told me how she felt about it—that it was hurtful, upsetting, overwhelming—and asked for advice on how to deal with it.
“Well, are they wrong or right about you?” I asked.
“They’re so wrong.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. We’re together. We’re smiling. We’re happy. And we’ll continue to shine because good things grow out of happiness.”
“What do I do about all the emails I’m getting from the media?”
“Ignore them. Anything you tell them, they’ll blow out of proportion to keep the story going. Stay cool and take the high road. The lies will fade. The truth lasts forever.”
She nodded, smiled, and squeezed my hand. “You’re right. Why should what’s outside have an effect on what’s inside? I like the bubble we’re in, and I’m not letting anyone burst it.”
Back when I was going to Dances with Spank, getting lucky meant taking someone home that night. In this moment, I learned what getting lucky really was.
Not long after, I asked Eniko to move in so we could be closer and she could begin a relationship with my kids.
Despite all the drama, I never turned my back on Torrei. Even when things got ugly, I still remembered that she had stayed with me through the hardest times, supporting me when I’d needed it most. I went into divorce court saying that I was a high-income earner and, despite whatever my attorney said in the filings, the court should give her whatever it saw fit. When the decision was made, I didn’t argue. I didn’t debate it. I just said: “Okay, Your Honor.”
I don’t know why it took me so long to go through with the divorce. I guess I hadn’t expected to fall in love again.
87
* * *
IF YOU NEVER TALKED TO STRANGERS, YOU’D NEVER TALK TO ANYONE, SINCE EVERYONE IS A STRANGER BEFORE YOU TALK TO THEM
Here’s another way in which something that seems negative can be interpreted positively: If people are saying critical things about you, it means you’re worth talking about. And if they’re wrong about you, even better, because it means you’re worth making stuff up about.
With Laugh at My Pain, it no longer made sense to follow the same plan of recording a show and selling it to Comedy Central. A third cable special would be a lateral move, not an upward move. It wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I decided to raise the bar and release the special as a theatrical film rather than a television program. I knew very little about the business side of movies, so when I asked people what they thought of the idea, they said some variation of “Shut up, Kev, you dumb!”
“That’s what Eddie Murphy and Richard Pryor and all the greats did. Why is it dumb for me to do?”
“Cause you don’t know nothing about releasing a movie.”
That was true. Then again, I’d gotten this far by being willing to stretch myself. Around the time you’re eighteen, nature stops the process of growing in your body. So if you want to keep growing after that, you have no choice but to stretch yourself on your own and increase your thinking, your capabilities, and your accomplishments. It’s a scary thing to take the risks and make the sacrifices necessary to keep growing, but it’s better than living a life in which you don’t fulfill your potential. The worst-case scenario is that it doesn’t work. The best-case scenario is that it does. Whatever happens, life goes on and so does the laughter.
I formed a production company, HartBeat Productions, and began working toward this new goal. You only learn by doing. Everyone’s inexperienced when they start anything new.
One morning, I was at the Los Angeles airport waiting for a flight to a Laugh at My Pain show when a cocky guy with a great big wall of teeth came up to me. It looked like he put a lot of care into his appearance. Each item of his clothing—from his black fedora to his brown dress shoes—were impeccable. But none of it matched. I remember thinking: That’s the best worst-dressed guy I’ve ever seen.
“Hey, Kevin!” He stuck out his hand. “I’m a movie producer and I’ve had a lot of success, and I’d love to sit down with you for a second.”
“Okay.”
He sat down next to me and introduced himself as Will Packer, then told me about the movies he’d done—Takers, Obsessed, Stomp the Yard. “I got another movie in the works right now,” he went on. “I would love to talk to you and just have a general conversation.”
I thought for a moment about whether I wanted to exchange phone numbers with him, then decided that it couldn’t hurt. When he reached out the next day, I told him that I didn’t have time to meet, but he could drop by one of my shows if he wanted to. I didn’t think anything would come of it, so I didn’t tell my manager or agents about it.
But just like with the Shaq special, I was wrong. Often, it’s been the opportunities I most undervalue in my life that end up providing the most value.
Will hopped on a plane to Dallas the next day and came to my show there. The next morning, we met for breakfast. As could be expected with anyone who approached me in an airport to pitch doing business together, he was a talker.