Lies of a Real Housewife (25 page)

a message back to Jay.

Crying the whole time, I sat in the holding-cell waiting for my turn

to see the Judge. When I finally saw the Judge, I begged for mercy. I got down on my knees, and I begged. I asked the Judge why didn’t they just come and pick me up directly from prison. Why would anybody allow me to b
ond with my children, and then snatch me away from them again? I explained what I had been through. There was the loss of my mother and grandmother, and all the time, I kept begging for mercy. And it was nothing more than pure mercy that was granted. The Judge allowed me to sign my own bond. He placed me on the pre-trial release program, and I was once again free. Not only was I

now on parole, but I was now on state, county, and federal parole.

Walking away from the Richard Russell building, something trig-

gered in my mind. I wondered if Phaedra Parks already knew what was coming my way. I still hadn’t heard from her. What in the world was going on? I had to get in touch with her now. I didn’t have anything or anybody. All I kept

thinking to myself was when or if this was ever going to be over.

I got on the bus that day and I gazed out the window. The bus passed

by the tall glass fixtures that adorned downtown Atlanta. I kept wondering, what next? Phaedra had not returned any of my calls. She was really my only hope. It never once crossed my mind that she had or would even consider turning her back on me.

We had known each other for years. She had bonded not only with

me, but also with my children, and my family. I started rationalizing. Maybe she got cold feet. Maybe she thought since my case was being picked up by the feds… I mean I just didn’t know. Was there a possibility that she thought I would sing? My mind was drowning in a sea of uncertainty, and I needed

life support.

Telling on Phaedra had never once crossed my mind. I had already

been dragged through the system. Implicating her now could only make things worse. I thought for sure I would have heard from he
r by now, so I decided to stop by her office. When I walked up to the receptionist’s desk and asked to see her, I saw the green and white striped wall paper which brought

back memories.

A phone call was made to her office. The receptionist said, “Ms. Parks, Angela Stanton is here to see you.” I was so excited when I learned that she was in the office. I had finally caught up with her. All kind of things

began running through my mind as I imagined what our reunion would be like. What would she look like?
Would she be happy to see me? What was

her excuse for not answering or returning my calls…?

Moments later, the receptionist told me that Ms. Parks was in a

meeting, and would be tied up all day. My hopes were dashed and I instantly dropped my head. I di
dn’t want the receptionist to see the despair in my eyes. At this point I was thinking hard and fast. My sixth sense had kicked in once again, and something just didn’t smell right. Before I walked out, I left Phaedra a copy of my manuscript, and the address to the shelter that I was

residing at with my children.

Three months passed and still no word from Phaedra. I was at Spondivits, a seafood restaurant on the south side of ATL, hanging with my cousin, Nikki, and enjoying a night out with some old friends. I ran into Jeezy and his entourage. I walked right up to him and said,
“Hey Jay baby, how you been? I see you all over the TV doing your thing! I’m so proud of you!” Then I gave him a big hug.

“Girl, I ain’t seen you in a long time. Where you been?”
he asked.

“I’m doing better now,” I said with a smile.

Then I gave him the story about how I had been in prison the last

couple of years, and I also told him I needed to talk with him about some business. He gave me a number, I locked it in my phone, an
d before he left he was sure to extend me an invite to kick it with him and his crew. I politely declined, and I promise that it wasn’t because I did not want to go. It was

simply that my life was different now. I wasn’t the same girl he used to know.

I didn’t want to bring up the situation about the feds right then. There were too many people around him, and the atmosphere just wasn’t

right. I knew there was a certain protocol I had to follow in order to present the information to Jeezy regarding the
federal agents. I also knew that he didn’t want all of the people around him to be in on his business.

Over the next few days, I called the number several times without

ever getting an answer. Finally, after realizing that he had given me his manager’s number, Coach K, and not his direct number, I had no other choice but to relay the message to Coach K. Jeezy never called me to inquire, so I figured he had it all worked out.

I had been through the ringer and back trying to get my life back on

track, and provide a home for my children. Thirty days was the maximum amount of time I could spend at any shelter. People can’t live there forever. Months went by and still no word from Phaedra. By this time I was living in a two bedroom apartment. Small, shaggy, and in the best neighborhood I could afford. I didn’t want my sons to grow up around drugs, or exposed to a

lifestyle that would land them in prison or the grave.

During those thirty days, I endlessly searched for employment. I

was denied job after job a
fter job. I wasn’t a dummy. I could read, write, and spell. I mean how difficult could it be to work a job in today’s society? It had nothing at all to do with working the job, but rather my criminal past which presented a great barrier. The background check, every time it was done,

reminded me that I would never ever be truly free.

Why even release me from prison if it was going to be impossible

for me to survive in the free world? As far as I was concerned, I was still in captivity. This method has mad
e the prison system a revolving door and the crime rate will always be on the rise. This was the reason why the number of homeless people increases. This was why there are so many repeat offenders.

You would be set free, but were really not freed! This ca
n prove to be tiring.

Do you try figuring it out...? And will that moment come too late?

I applied for Section 8 and Housing Assistance. I was promptly de-

nied by both departments because I was a convicted felon. This latest blow came as a surprise. An
ytime I had ever gone to the projects, the place was infested with crime, and convicted felons. I never even wanted to live in the

projects, but would have now. It wasn’t like we had anywhere else to go.

It got so bad at one point that I auditioned for a job as a stripper. I

was hired at a nightclub, and applied for my dancer’s permit. It was promptly denied because I was a convicted felon. That also came as a huge surprise to me. It was a major blow to any financial aspirations that I held. You mean to
tell me, that because I was a convicted felon, I couldn’t stand on a table, and

degrade myself for a few lousy dollars? Sh** was getting real serious...

I thought I could bend over and show what I ate for breakfast to

anyone I chose. I was just upgraded
from modern day slave, so I couldn’t get butt-ass-naked? McDonalds wasn’t even an option. I didn’t have any housing assistance so a two-bedroom apartment was six hundred and seventy-five dollars monthly, and that was in the hood. Of course, the rent didn’t include any utilities at all. By the time I worked forty hours at McDonalds earning $5.75 an hour, I still wouldn’t have enough money to pay rent. That gig

wasn’t even worth my time.

The move into a two-bedroom apartment with my children was a

start. It was hard, but I began thinking that about a month earlier I was in prison, and I became grateful. Two days before my time expired at the shelter I was downtown job searching and met a man. He was just a friendly guy. We began to talk and I told h
im my story. For some reason he seemed genuinely concerned. He told me that he had a friend who needed to talk with me, a friend that could possibly help me. The very next evening I met with him and

his friend, both angels sent to me from heaven!

The agreement was that I was to marry this man in order for him

to stay in the United States. He was from Africa. I would get fifteen thousand dollars just to sign my name on the dotted line. The movie,
Coming to America,
starring Eddie Murphy, started to play in my mind.

Just in case you were wondering, I never even thought twice about

it. I agreed without hesitation. The man gave me five thousand dollars cash, and told me he would return to the states in three months with the other ten thousand dollars. We were to be married when he returned. Oddly enough, he never came back. I still have not heard from him or seen him since that day. God works in mysterious ways. He had made a way out when there was

no way.

I took the five thousand dollars cash, and got me and my children

somewhere decent to live. Then I bought us a ride. A good jump-start to whatever God had in store for us. Once we moved and got settled in our new home, I was able to sit down, and sort through boxes of my belongings which

my brother had held in storage for me.

By the time I went through the second box, I found all of the contact

numbers I had on Phaedra. I had her home, office, and cellphone numbers. These were numbers I had forgotten during the eighteen months of my incarceration. I knew I could reach her on her cellphone without a doubt. I grabbed

my cellphone and I dialed the number.