Lies of a Real Housewife

by Angela Stanton

  She was ready to move on with her life. I was sitting on my grandmother’s front porch when she pulled up in her 1991 white Lincoln Continental. All her belongings were in the trunk and the backseat of her car. She made the announcement that she was home for good, and for me, it turned into the happiest of homecomings. I had been on my own for a while now and needed the support of my mother. Even though I appeared to be as tough as nails on the

  outside, the inside was soft as pudding.

  By now, I had been in Atlanta for just under a year. It was very dif-

  ficult to make ends meet. Every friend, boyfriend, and pal I had, was into something illegal. Hotlanta was the name of this place. Everybody had some type of illicit hustle scheme going down. Where I lived, the motto was ‘hustle or be hustled’. My cousins and I lived for the excitement of the nightlife Atlanta had to offer. Freedom and independence were new concepts to us. We didn’t have to go to school, and didn’t have to answer to our parents. It was

  all about enjoying our lives.

  I was nineteen years old when Cookie and I decided to go out. The Bank Head Bounce was one of the hottest clubs in Atlanta at the time. I will never forget that night because it would be the beginning of an exciting but dangerous journey. That night I met Drama. Cookie and I had been in the club the whole night. We watched and enjoyed his performance on stage. On the way out of the club, I caught his eye, and he quickly made his way over

  to me. It was the beginning of our on-again, off-again romantic relationship.

  Terrance Cook went by the moniker, Drama. He had a hit single

  back then called, “Left, Right, Left.” Drama was a knucklehead of a rapper, and couldn’t stay out of trouble. Raheem the Dream had signed him to a re-

  cord deal when Drama was still an underage teen.

  This was where Phaedra Parks entered his music career, fighting

  for Drama’s money. In the midst of Phaedra Parks suing Raheem the Dream for Drama’s money, Drama got himself arrested for armed robbery. I never really heard anything else about that lawsuit, and I don’t believe Drama ever

  saw a dime.

  Between late 1998 and early 1999, Drama and I were in a relation-

  ship together. It was through my close connection with him that I would finally become acquainted with his high-powered attorney, Phaedra Parks. She not only talked the talk, but dressed from heels to head in all the latest fashions, she walked the walk. If she wasn’t driving her black Benz then she was peeling off in her white Jaguar. Everybody in and around the city knew who Phaedra Parks was. When her designer heels walked into any room, she

  carried a certain light about her which shone and lit up the entire place.

  Phaedra Parks was a fancy entertainment lawyer who appeared to be

  well accomplished. I had no idea that this was all smokescreens and mirrors. For the most part, her act was all part of a bigger deception. She was very impressive, driving around town in her black Mercedes Benz, and turning

  heads wherever she went.

  Drama had everything going for him. He was at the height of his

  career, and just like the majority of rappers who allow drugs and crime to take over their lives, Drama was not different. Eventually, he was sentenced

  to twelve years in Clayton County, Georgia, for armed robbery.

  I wasn’t Drama’s main chick, and was always in competition with

  many of his groupies. I was just one of his sidepieces, a jump-off, some may say. I don’t mind admitting to that. Being molested at a young age infected me with the capacity to have relationships with men and not get emotionally attached. I was young and promiscuous. Drama was not the only man I was dating. I wasn’t really concerned about being in a relationship with anyone

  at that time.

  After meeting Phaedra Parks, she and I hit it off from the start for

  some reason. I would often wonder what kind of synergy bonded us together like glue. Whatever it was, it was a strong connection. Phaedra was like my big sister and helped to shape me into the person I grew into being. She had

  the answer to everything.

  I was a girl who had been in and out of trouble my entire life. Be-

  ing from a broken home, I was also silently suffering from being a victim of childhood sexual abuse. Phaedra was the exact opposite. She had the perfect upbringing. After attending and graduating from law school, she became a successful lawyer. As a young girl, I had always dreamt of being a lawyer. Phaedra was my mentor, and not only did I respect her, but I really admired her. She was like the princess in a fairytale book I had read as a child. Phaedra Parks was, in essence, the first positive female role model I had in my life besides my mother.

  It lifted my spirit and revived hope inside me to have a friend who

  knew exactly where I wanted to be in life. Phaedra Parks had the resources to help me get there. I saw her as someone who could show me how to stay out of trouble, point me in the right direction, and help me straighten out my life. Phaedra showed me that there was much more to life than what I had seen. To be honest, Phaedra was my inspiration. For some reason I believed that she

  was somewhat my redeemer. At least that was what I thought.

  Phaedra and I were very close. Her home was like a second home

  to me. She was always welcomed when she showed up at my grandmother’s house. She won the approval of my grandmother. Every time Phaedra would stop by, she brought ticket loads of Scratch Off and a bottle of Smirnoff Vodka. That was all it took for my grandmother, Shug, to like you. My grandmother lived for games of chance, and the Scratch Offs provided many opportunities. Shug loved her vodka, and Phaedra brought bottles. Shug was

  easily won over.

  On the other hand, my mother wasn’t as easy to please, but she

  loved and admired Phaedra. She wanted whatever Phaedra had to rub off on me. Phaedra was independent, successful, and had money. She was a career woman, with a very bright future. I remembered the times when Phaedra would pick me up just to ride through the city in one of her expensive cars. We were big sh**! My feeling of self worth rose off the chains. Although we were two diametrically different people, our relationship strongly supported the theory that opposites attract. We talked to each other on the phone on a daily basis.

  Phaedra was living the good life. The money and the cars, the en-

  tertainers and everything about her life, appeared to be so grand. It was the type of life I wanted, and I wouldn’t stop until I possessed it myself. As our relationship continued to grow, I kept thinking that Phaedra was too good to hang around me and my crew. I mean, we were all from the streets. All of us were illegal, drug dealers, drug users, prostitutes, and hustlers. Some of Atlanta’s finest, if I may say so myself. My title was hustler and I was a good

  one. This was a quality Phaedra may have seen in me.

  I hustled whatever I could get my hands on. Everyone I knew, from

  family to friends, had some illegal kind of way to make fast money. Whenever they needed my assistance, I would provide my services for a small fee of course. My loyalty and good work ethics paid off. When someone wanted a job well done, I was that person they would call. Whether it was drugs, hot items, or my body, I did everything. From middle man, to the running man,

  and the front man, I played all the positions in the game.

  Street life was my expertise until Phaedra started showing me a to-

  tally different lifestyle. We would attend some of the finest parties in the city together. She introduced me to fancy restaurants, and exquisite shopping

  boutiques.

  December 31, 1999, Casper, a fellow hustler from the street who

  was close to me, was throwing a New Year’s Eve bash in his penthouse. Casper was that real brother from another mother, as we say on the streets.

  He always supported me, so I was planning to attend the event. Phaedra was my close friend, and made sure my clothes game was tight. She kept m
e up on the latest fashion and accessories. Phaedra hooked me up by sending me to the best boutiques in Atlanta, and I acquired the hottest in fashion. When New Years Eve finally rolled around, we were geared up to have a ball.

  Phaedra and her brother attended the gala affair with me. We had

  such a fabulous time. There was a six-foot long cake, and countless tables of food. A live band played throughout the night, and revelers jammed to the latest tunes. Good music filled the air and I danced, feeling nothing but joy, joy, and more joy. It was a real celebration. We celebrated making it through the millennium alive, and the world had not been destroyed as everyone had predicted. I wasn’t afraid anyway. Honestly, I felt that it would be better if we all died together. It wasn’t like we could do anything about it if it had

  happened anyway.

  Like a young doting sister, I loved and looked up to Phaedra Parks. There are times when I still do. She put me up on all kinds of game. She taught me to always look good, and act like I had money even if I didn’t have a dime. She taught me to walk with my head held high, and never be ashamed of who I was or where I had come from. She always saw the greener side, and to her, nothing was the end. She felt everybody deserved a second chance. Her attitude was always positive. She had a can-do attitude and was always

  helping. She always preached that everything would be alright.

  “It’s where you are going, that should be your concern,” she once

  advised me.

  I remember that particular incident like it had happened yesterday. We were eating at Pappadeaux’s Seafood Kitchen. It was one of her favorite place to dine. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. Her big eyes were dead-set on me. Phaedra spoke with so much conviction, she made me feel as if I was a child being reprimanded in a gentle way. It was just the way she spoke, and how she looked at me. This mild scolding had everything to do with her presentation, and I got it. I understood completely what she was saying, and I believed her! It was all about where I was going.

  In a funny kind of way, Phaedra gave me my life back. A few

  months of hanging with her, and I had ceased being mean and so hateful. I also stopped dwelling on the past. Like sand in the hour glass, all the hurtful things I had been through, slipped away. Phaedra made me feel secure to be around her. I assumed that she was genuinely on my side. Meeting her actually gave me a chance to fix what was wrong with my life. It was an opportunity for me to grow as an individual. This was a chance to actually be

  somebody. That was all I really ever wanted—a chance.

  I could never forget the year that Phaedra hosted her own Halloween

  birthday party. She was born at the end of October, and she organized a full scale, spare-no-expense, costume party—Phaedra style. It was very exquisite, and very tasteful. She was dressed as a cat. My cousin, Cookie, was a

  bunny rabbit, and I was a French maid. We had such a blast.

  Drama showed up with another one of his girlfriends. That really

  bothered me, but my girls were constantly in my ear, telling me to forget him. Especially Phaedra, Drama was her star client at that time, and she toured

  with him. She knew more about him and his lifestyle than I did.

  Phaedra always told me that Drama was messing around with a

  bunch of other women. When she told me these things, she had no idea that Drama had been telling me that he had sex with her also. It seemed as if they were tossing me back and forth. So I disclosed to Drama that Phaedra had been telling me to leave him alone. This piece of news caused him to be very upset. He claimed that she was just mad because he wouldn’t be with her

  only.

  Thinking back, I found that their work relationship was quite un-

  usual. It seemed really odd for an attorney to travel on tour with clients. Once I told Drama how Phaedra hated on him, he swore up and down to me that he and Phaedra had a sexual relationship. I even had her call Drama on a three-way call, and remained silent on the line. He denied that they had ever had sex. Looking back, I realized that he knew that I was listening to the call. She had already prepped him on what to say, similar to the way she briefed all her clients. It was common protocol for Phaedra. She had mentioned this

  fact previously to me.

  At the end of the day, all signs confirmed that Phaedra was a real

  freak. It was not a stretch to believe she had an intimate relationship with Drama behind my back. She even admitted it on national television, when she blurted out that her freak number was an eight or nine. Besides that, Drama had told me the same thing too many times, on too many different occasions.

  Just about every conversation Phaedra and I had would result in her

  talking about sex. She would often elaborate about her performance of some type of sexual act. Phaedra threw herself at any man she felt she could benefit from, and that was just about any entertainer or athlete who showed interest. She even threw herself at my brother a couple of times. Lee always politely

  passed on her invites. He said, “She’s not my kind of lady…”

  I considered Phaedra a friend, so there were plenty of visits to her

  home. Some were for business, and plenty for pleasure. Sometimes I would visit her just so we could talk over a glass of wine. We talked about every-

  thing from men, clothes, sex, children, and the future.

  She also shared her personal photo album with me. There was all

  kind of pictures of her dressed up as a dominatrix, bent over, and posing in different positions. I was shocked, but it didn’t stop me from looking. Phaedra tripped me out, and I continued viewing the album, but I was mostly in

  disbelief.

  I recalled the first time I visited her home on Oregon Trail in Mari-

  etta, Georgia. My cousin, Kate, tagged along with me on this particular visit. Now my cousin and I were known for cracking jokes, and talking bad about people. Just like any other buddies who were also family members, we shared a lot of laughs. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to invite my cousin, but it was already too late. Phaedra’s home was nice, but was not all that fancy as I had thought it would be.

  At the time, she was living in a three-bedroom, with two baths, and

  a two-car garage home. There was a small front yard, and the home was in a middle class neighborhood. Inside, maroon carpet was on the floor and when you walked in, the garage was located on the right. There was a big spacious living room on the left decorated in maroon and gold colors. The kitchen was located further down the hall. Her bedroom had a queen-size canopy bed and

  there was a master bathroom.

  Her home was average, at best, but what really tripped us out was

  her bedroom. There was a pair of handcuffs attached to the headboard. Whips, and freaky-ass underwear were hanging everywhere. This was a den for S & M. Her tools were openly displayed as if she wanted people to know she was a freaky woman. In her bathroom, she had at least four thousand dollars

  worth of various makeup products scattered everywhere.

  This scene was hilarious and ironic. Since she was a ‘big-time’, en-

  tertainment lawyer, we thought she would be somewhat conservative and modest, especially since she was the daughter of a preacher. Yeah right! Phaedra was into all kinds of S&M activities. Back in those days, everybody in Atlanta heard the rumors about her sleeping with over ninety percent of her clients. I didn’t personally witness any of her sexual acts. Phaedra did talk about some things, sex was one of them, and she owned everything associ-

  ated with a dominatrix lifestyle.

  Phaedra loved to run her mouth about whatever she could find to

  talk about. So it came as no surprise when she gave me the inside scoop.

  Like when Mystical was first arrested. Phaedra represented him as well. I knew a lot of details about him based on my conversations with Phaedra. So much for attorney-client confidentiality. One time, she talked really bad about Mystical’s baby’s mother.
She told me about the time she first met the young woman at an area shopping mall. According to Phaedra, Mystical’s baby’s mother had some nerve being outside and wearing bedroom slippers. She kept insinuating how his baby’s mother was soo ghetto despite all of the money generated from Mystical’s musical success. At the very minimum, she

  thought the least he could do was buy the girl a nice pair of shoes.

  I remember thinking, why was she so concerned about what the

  woman was wearing? Was she jealous? Of course, she was jealous because I’m quite sure she was screwing him too. It was obvious.

  Mystical, if you read this book, you might want to ask Phaedra

  about your attorney-client privileges. I will not elaborate on too many details for the sake of Mystical, but I would like to say that Phaedra told me that Mystical was guilty, long before he was ever convicted. The hairdresser and those checks, right? Oh yeah… Yeah, I remember about you and your boys

  at the hotel.

  Phaedra told me that Mystical was the dumbest motherf***** she

  had ever met in her life. She told me that his hairdresser, a woman that he had known for a long time, stole some checks out of his checkbook, and stole eighty-thousand dollars from him. Instead of calling the police, Mystical called the woman to the hotel under the pretension that he wanted his hair braided. Then he and his entourage, raped the woman, beat her, and sodom-

  ized her! Phaedra Parks was absolutely livid.

  Phaedra and I shared a lot with each other. I remember Phaedra call-

  ing me several times about a professional football player she was dating at the time. He dragged her butt through the ringer and she deserved it. She went through so much with this guy, and I could not understand why she was having these problems. I thought she was everything a man could want, and that any man would value and be honored to be in a relationship with a successful

  entertainment lawyer.

  She was really hurt when she found out that her NFL ballplayer boy-

  friend had impregnated a stripper from Atlanta’s infamous strip club, ‘Magic City.’ She went on and on about how the broad was nothing more than a stripper, and that she was a lawyer. She just couldn’t believe her boyfriend would stoop so low. Phaedra had spoken to me several times about this particular football player, and by her conversation she had high hopes for this relationship. Phaedra had mentioned to me previously that she assumed he was messing around. I found out about him when she brought him up in a telephone