Regarding rumors that there was no pre-nup, Mariah said:
"Anyone who thinks there was no pre-nup is smokin' somethin'"
Listen. Mariah Carey does not fuck around when it comes legal stuff. She has a team of 6 full time lawyers and a second team of 12 lawyers to watch the first 6.
When I showed up at the door of her recording studio in Capri claiming to be a reporter from (I claimed to be a reporter for Corriere Della Sera), I had to agree to a grocery list of “terms.”
I met with one of her layers, Mr. Gary, who I got to know quite well during our relationship.
But that was only the beginning.
When we first started fooling around, you know, things get to a certain point, clothes come off, your holding each other, you’re kissing, and all of the sudden she would stop and give me this look as though I was forgetting something.
“What’s wrong baby?”
“You know…”
“No, I don’t know.”
“You didn’t sign the papers yet.”
Mr. Gary slid the papers under the door, and as I sat on the edge of the bed signing them as fast as my little wrist could manage, she went in to the bathroom which was connected to the master bedroom. While she was in there, I could hear her talking to someone. It was one of her assistants, her leg oiler, who was actually greasing up her legs before we went to third base.
We had our first argument when she came out of the bathroom. I told her that the lawyer and the leg greaser had completely ruined the mood.
We compromised, as this is the key to any harmonious relationship. I would sign anything her lawyer asked me to, and when she was with me, she would remain a natural – no grease, no oil.
The blowjob agreement was only the beginning.
I also had to sign something that swore me to silence for five years after our last interaction.
A small price to pay when you’re fucking Mariah.
