by Bailey Thomas, Cynthia,Thomas, Peter,Short, Rochelle,Saunders, Keith
I didn’t want to invest a lot of energy into something that wasn’t right for me. By way of casting, RHOA would put me in a situation where my friends would be chosen for me. I saw it as my biggest challenge because I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as some of the women. However, April maintained that the show wanted a woman who was cosmopolitan, well-traveled but down to earth. Translation: They were looking for a girl who enjoyed caviar and champagne, but wouldn’t turn her nose up at neck bones and sweet tea.
April said the show’s viewers were more interested in seeing self-made, black women who had achieved success through their own sweat and merit, rather than those who married into money. In response, producers were looking to feature a complementary housewife profile in the third season. I still wrestled with how I could make a significant contribution while being me and staying true to my values.
I had a variety of restrictions that I felt made me a less-appealing addition. I wasn’t going to cuss, fight or gratuitously flaunt my daughter on camera. In fact, I was only willing to show Noelle in relevant scenes, like ones including her father. April noted my concerns and submitted me for consideration to the powers that be. I was shocked to hear back that they liked me! Maybe my no-drama swagger would be the new style.
My meeting with April had my wheels turning nonstop. I started to think that for the right amount of money, I could figure the shit out. I began watching the show and familiarizing myself with the all the ladies. The producers arranged an off-camera meeting between me and NeNe Leakes. My guess was they wanted to get a second opinion of me. I thought NeNe was the realest and funniest of the group, but also the one I would get along with the least. I saw myself hitting it off best with Kandi Burruss.
NeNe had a powerful presence that grabbed people’s attention, but her appeal was quite different from mine. I was used to walking into a room and getting attention for my outfit, makeup and style. NeNe carried herself with a boldness and presence that you could not ignore. Her persona screamed, “I have arrived!” In her high heels, she stood an intimidating 6’3”. Her confidence alone was enough to shift the energy in any room she entered.
I’d not met anyone like NeNe before. I thought I had a lot of charisma, but mine was about as bright as the sun at midnight in her company. From the first time I met her, I knew she was going to be a star. I was intrigued by her and understood how others could be sucked in too. She came across as a smart, assured woman with a plan. NeNe was the whole package and big in every way: size, personality, height and humor.
I remember thinking, even if I didn’t join the cast, I was new to Atlanta and she would be a fun girl to hang out with. She was resourceful and could tell you how to get anything. Even if it was something she hadn’t personally experienced, NeNe was that girl who had the 411 on where to get a great facial, perfect pedicure or a firm set of implants. I thought she was cool, but at the time I didn’t feel the admiration was mutual. I knew she liked me and thought I was nice, but it’s hard to get my disposition in the first five minutes of meeting me. I have to warm up to people. I was sure she didn’t see me as a fit for the show. I even convinced myself that her feedback to the producers was pretty much just that.
I was told that the next step would be a screen test, but the Bravo calls fizzled after my face-to-face with NeNe. The lack of communication kicked me into proactive mode, and I turned the tables on the pursuit. I phoned the producers and told them they’d be making a big mistake not to at least audition me. A week later, camera crews were in my home.
The producers were seeking a housewife who women could watch as a means of escape from their everyday lives. They wanted women to look at the RHOA cast and think, “Wow, I want that life.” Partaking in reality TV for the first time, the only instruction manual you have as a guide is what other cast members portray. I focused on emulating their behavior, thinking it was what I needed to bring to the show.
I went into the screen test very conflicted, battling with who I truly was, versus what I thought the show wanted me to be. I was so out of my element and hated sitting in front of a camera bragging about my life. It felt so silly and pompous. The producers prodded me to talk about the men I’d dated, the money I’d made, the places I’d traveled and people I’d rubbed shoulders with. If I was to become a Bravo Housewife, passing the screen test was the first order of business. It all clicked for me the moment I realized I could just give the producers what they needed and bring the balance to my character once I was cast for the show. After my epiphany, the rest was as effortless as walking down a runway.
I’d heard producers were looking for only one new housewife for the upcoming season. Word around town was that an Atlanta attorney Phaedra Parks was in the final running with me. I had never heard of her before the show, but knew we could not have been more different from each other. I got the impression that whoever had the best storyline would become a housewife and the other would be kept on as a cast mate, if that. A cast mate is anyone appearing on the show that doesn’t hold a peach in the opening credits. I was claiming my peach and from that point on, I viewed Phaedra as my competition. Fortunately, each of us had unique contributions to offer, and the producers loved our storylines. She had a baby, I had a wedding, and we were both invited back to Season 4.
CHAPTER IV
Fasten Your Seatbelts
Our Reality Show
Peter’s Lost & Found
I was happy to help Cynthia create an income for herself outside of modeling. She did a lot of print and television work for Macy’s and was well-loved by its entire divisional team. Her bestselling ads were the reason her professional relationship with Macy’s spanned over twenty years. Cynthia was more than a beautiful face; she had a skill and patience that made the job look easier than it was. Watching her do the same walk a dozen times (just to get the right angle) showed a mechanical side to modeling that not everyone is aware of. On one of my visits to her set, I was blown away to learn that it took forty-something people to make a single shoot come together. Everything was unionized: one group drove the truck, one unloaded it, another did audio and a team of about ten producers oversaw the whole setup.
When the recession hit, Macy’s reduced its workforce around the country and closed most of the divisional catalog production studios. The majority of that work was moved to the main headquarters in New York. Macy’s was one of Cynthia’s regular gigs and the reductions were a big financial hit for her. My wife is a woman whose emotions are controlled by her finances. It was tough to watch her wrestle with whether she’d be able to survive the restructure. When RHOA came up, she wasn’t hyped about the opportunity, but that was the only clear move on the chessboard. It was a take it or leave it situation. I convinced her to take it.
I know how to parlay shit, and I’m 100 percent guilty of being Cynthia’s hype-man. I persuaded her that she had what it took to be a Real Housewives star. I had no doubt it would be the perfect outlet to showcase her greatness. The show wanted a fresh face and new blood to play off some of the circus-like personalities already on board. There was already a lot of ghetto cussing, wine drinking and wig snatching going on. Cynthia wasn’t a woman to get caught up in excessive mess or gossip, and NeNe clearly detected that in their first meeting. However, Cynthia’s fate was in the hands of the blue suits in charge, not any particular cast member. NeNe was already doing her thing – Cynthia just needed a chance to do hers. When weeks had gone by without word from Bravo, I encouraged Cynthia to personally contact them and follow up. She called the producers and assured them she would be worth their time.
She was a humble woman who never needed to toot her own horn. The whole notion of bragging about her life caused her to clam up during her test. A producer on set that day had coincidentally followed Cynthia’s career and knew of her lavish lifestyle. He pulled her aside and told her straight up, “Look, Cynthia, you’re a part of fashion and entertainment’s Who’s Who. I need you t
o show that and be that! You’ve been all around the world in private jets and been a guest to the prince of Morocco. You’re the woman we’re looking for.” Cynthia listened, stepped up her game and landed the part.
Once the deal was officially inked, we started watching DVDs of previous seasons in preparation for our first. What she saw turned her off even more than she’d been after sitting down with April. Cynthia’s background and temperament didn’t match any of the women. I had to resell her on the fact that she didn’t have to come off like the other women. I told her she could make a mark of her own.
She was a multicultural woman who had a career and storyline that wasn’t predictable. She was a breed that viewers could learn more interesting things about with each episode. Producers were also excited to show the contrasting dynamic of Cynthia’s subtle side against my explosive side. They knew I didn’t mince words or feel the need to appear perfect. They liked how her laid-back elegance bounced off my crazy Jamaican, Brooklyn swagger.
Our first season was financially and emotionally one of the worst times of my life. Every detail in our world was being played out on national television. Being me on the daily was already a freaking television show in itself, but joining RHOA was one I never saw coming. I struggled to get used to crews filming at our home and Uptown. Talking on camera about my children and four baby mamas was the real kick in the ribs. Not having my kids around made the invasion of privacy even worse. When I had no money or optimism, just their presence would lighten my day. They made everything seem better and not nearly as devastating. It was different for Cynthia because she always had Noelle’s unconditional love waiting at home for her.
One day I reached the point where I just said, “fuck it!” From then on, I made a conscious decision to really show it all. After the first five minutes of a scene, I’d even forget I was miked or on camera. I allowed things to unfold naturally. If I was in a bad mood or Cynthia and I had an argument, that’s what the crew had to deal with when they showed up. I gave the realness that people wanted to see. I wasn’t down for faking the funk or living in a made-for-TV world. I’m that guy who has the balls to walk down the busiest street in Atlanta buck naked. So, getting in front of the cameras and letting it all hang out became nothing for me.
Cynthia’s Lost & Found
I made it my business to review the previous seasons and familiarize myself with the women that would be sharing the next six months of my life. Kandi came off as easygoing, while drama seemed to follow NeNe, Sheree Whitfield and Kim Zolciak. I tried to keep a neutral mindset because I wanted to give everyone a fair chance. My first scene with the cast (except Kim) was the infamous Mother’s Day brunch at my home. Thinking Kandi and I would have no problem connecting, I was surprised when I couldn’t seem to get on the same page with her energy. She seemed guarded and standoffish.
I later learned it wasn’t personal and that Kandi’s aloofness is a part of her chill personality. Though we’ve yet to develop the depth of friendship she has with Phaedra, we grew to get along fine. That brunch actually turned out to be a memorable day for all of us. Our hen talk unleashed the controversy centered on Phaedra insisting she didn’t know how far along she was in her pregnancy. By the end of the day, we were fuller from the buffet of inconsistencies than we were from the food.
My next scene with Phaedra featured us en route to the Steeplechase horse races. Peter, Dwight, Phaedra and I shared a limo to the race. Phaedra’s was paying homage to Tammy Faye Bakker with a full face of theatrical makeup. Dwight looked like he was auditioning for the role of ringmaster for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.
Someone brought up the discussion of marriage and kids during our ride. The conversation prompted me to ask Phaedra if her pregnancy was the first child for her and Apollo. She responded with an unequivocal “yes” and proclaimed she could only be impregnated by a “clean man.” I thought, “She couldn’t have meant what just came out of her mouth. This cannot be real.” I kept looking out the window thinking Ashton Kutcher was gonna pop out of a van with his own crew and tell me I had just been Punk’d. When Peter heard her comment, he didn’t skip a beat in asking what Phaedra meant by it. Peter knew that Apollo had served time in prison and felt Phaedra’s idea of a “clean man” was certainly unlike any definition he’d ever heard.
Phaedra came across as country-crazy and proud of it! I loved that she was unconventional in every possible way. Back in the day, I could imagine her holding the title of Miss Watermelon Patch and Peach Preserves (four years in a row). Everything about her personified the South: her speech, clothes, jewelry, makeup – and especially her mannerisms. I was still new to Atlanta and had no frame of reference for her southern belle type. If we have those in New York City, I’d never had the pleasure of meeting one.
Getting acquainted with my fellow housewives called for the donning of my Miss Congeniality smile, gown and sash! Did I say sash? Sorry, I meant shield! Out the gate, Sheree and I didn’t hit it off. I never felt totally relaxed in any setting we shared and was always confused by my interactions with her. She was so nice and sweet whenever we were together but would say hurtful things behind my back. We never got to know each other well, so it was disheartening that she was consistently negative and mean-spirited about me. When it was all said and done, she was just someone I worked with, and I chose not to take any of her actions personally.
Watching the first couple seasons of the show, you’d think NeNe was the inspiration behind Diary of a Mad Black Woman. In our time together, I never saw her that way. She was just real and didn’t have a problem speaking her mind. NeNe and Kim were actually friends when the show started. NeNe played a significant role in Kim’s addition to the ensemble. As their friendship started to fall apart, NeNe and I began to bond. Kim and I always had an unspoken respect for one another until my closeness with NeNe became, in her eyes, a conflict. Once they severed ties, Kim pegged me as Team NeNe and killed any chance of us building a friendship.
In truth, I was just trying to get to know everyone. I refused to jump through pointless hurdles to prove myself worthy of anyone’s friendship. Kim operated in a vacuum and never even visited my home. I went to hers once, under the pretense of a spa party – if that’s what you want to call it. It was the episode where Kim ate pizza while lying under some type of red laser machine that was supposed to evaporate body fat. Not really my idea of a spa treatment. After leaving Kim’s that day, I treated myself to a real spa visit. I didn’t need to burn any fat, but I damn sure need to melt away the tension brought on by all the insanity.
Though NeNe was labeled the villain on the show, she and I were able to establish a loyalty that was hard to achieve with the other ladies. She was my tenured professor at Reality TV University and I was determined to graduate at the top of her class. We talked like sisters and stayed on the phone all hours of the day. Our constant gabbing grew to irritate the hell out of Peter. He felt like every time I was on the phone, I was talking to her. He started to come off as controlling, and NeNe made it openly known that she was opposed to men who tried to control women.
NeNe and Peter eventually exchanged harsh words. Both being alpha personalities, it became a clash of two titans. Their disagreement resulted in a lapse of my and Peter’s friendship with NeNe. Once again, I found myself in the middle of a battle that I’d not instigated. NeNe’s position bothered me because there was no way in hell I’d ever allow anyone to control me, especially a man. It hurt knowing the three of us fell out over such a silly and trivial matter.
The notorious friend contract I gave NeNe is a perfect example of how a RHOA mosquito bite could turn into a bullet wound. Originally, I wrote the contract to clear the air after Peter and NeNe’s argument. I was also battling stuff with some of the other girls. The aftermath of it all had me thinking, “Damn, these women are such a trip, I need a friendship contract just to get along with them.” The other ladies knew NeNe was my girl and
went out of their way to ridicule our alliance. The contract was clearly intended as a joke and attempt to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, in the world of reality TV, the more a misunderstanding is blown out of proportion, the better!
I thought the contract would be a no-brainer and a hilarious icebreaker. I envisioned giving it to NeNe and we’d both fall on the floor laughing, make up and the shit would be over. The joke was on me! I had enough egg on my face to sponsor a community Easter egg hunt. The women branded me as a crazy, fatal attraction that was in love with NeNe. Behind the scenes, I didn’t know NeNe had been coaxed into circulating the letter, subsequently making me look like a single black female.
Social media criticism added a dreadful beating of its own. I realized I was in a big league game that I had no idea how to play. The drama became larger than life! It made me stand out in a dysfunctional way and was nothing close to the admiration I was used to receiving. It was disconcerting and also the first time I’d been in the company of women who put so much effort into being malicious for no reason.
Between Contract Gate, and her disagreement with Peter, NeNe and I didn’t talk for weeks. The ordeal was the only disagreement we’d ever had on the show. We eventually talked and worked through the nonsense, and the whole fiasco was a turning point in our friendship. In the reality arena, one thing you don’t want to be is forgettable. Putting that contract into NeNe’s hands took care of that for me! Someone always has to carry the Crazy Flag, and that season it was me!
Peter’s Coach Class
The Real Housewives of Atlanta put Cynthia in a circle of women who, under normal circumstances, would never have collided with her world. The only one she gravitated toward was NeNe. I’ve always felt they were so opposite, they became attracted to each other’s differences. On the show, NeNe is known for saying she was “a stripper not a whore.” I respect that NeNe did what she had to do as a single mother to feed her child. She had a hustle and a drive you couldn’t help but bow down to. Initially, we bumped heads because we were both bullheaded, but we managed to get past our beef and grow closer. Cynthia and NeNe bonded over their differences, while NeNe and I clicked because of our similarities. She was even present when I proposed to Cynthia in April of 2010.
