Lies of a Real Housewife (28 page)

sonal information.

The commissioner made the decision herself to fire me. There was

nothing my boss or her boss could do about it. There it was; the enemy had won again. The devil hated when I shared my story with people. My story

held the power to heal.

I called the commissioner and I begged her to at least demote me or

transfer me to another unit. I begged, “Please ma’am… I’m a single mother. I have no other way to provide for my children!”

I told her everything I could to keep my job, but she had no emotion. She truly could have cared less just like the counselors my mother sent me
to talk to after I died at the age of five. Like getting rid of a dirty rag, she threw

away my life, and my children’s well-being went with it.

A few months after I was fired, she made the national headlines

herself. The commissioner of the GDOT was cau
ght in a scandal. But unlike me, she was afforded mercy. How ironic? When she cried about how she was

a single mother of one, she got to keep her job. I’ll just be damned!

I started to go pay her a ‘remember me’ visit. I wanted to make her

remember my
situation during her time of discomfort. Just to see if she could empathize with me. I mean, seeing how she had no sympathy for me back then. Maybe she would be more understanding. Well, we all know that God

doesn’t like ugly! No… Not one bit.

Nevertheless, I was back to square one. Now what? I cried when I

lost my job, of course. That was simply because I didn’t see any other way out at that time. But after time passed, I realized that my job with GDOT was just a bridge. It was just a bridge t
o carry me from the beginning, to my federal trial, to now. Without my job with the GDOT, Judge Evans would have most certainly sent me back to prison. My job showed that I was being productive. It was a reason for me not to commit crimes. No sense crying over spilled milk. God was in control now. Before long the bills were piling up again. The rent was due, and my children were begging for everything

they saw on television.

I needed to talk to someone. On the verge of having a nervous break-

down, I made
an appointment to see my OB/GYN doctor. Dr. Neal Freeman had proved to be a special person in my life. He worked at the neighborhood welfare clinic, Southside Health Care. His office was walking distance from my grandmother’s home. Dr. Freeman had provided all of my prenatal care for my three sons. He even delivered two of them.

Every time I went to Dr. Freeman’s office it was like going to see

my father. He gave me endless countless sessions on what I should be doing to get my life together. Being my doctor for over thirteen years, he knew my story all too well. I was four months pregnant with Emani the last time Dr. Freeman saw me. He wondered why I had just dropped off of the face of the

earth.

On this particular visit, I couldn’t hold my composure. I wasn’t sure

if I was going to make it after the latest blow life had given me. I told Dr. Freeman about my journey to prison, my release, my job, and how I was back to nothing. I had my recently finished manuscript with me. It was my life and everywhere I went, I carr
ied it along with me. I showed it to him, and briefly

detailed what it was about.

After intently listening, the look in his eyes beneath his square

framed glasses, said it all. Dr. Freeman is a tall bright-skinned, handsome man. He was amazed and immedi
ately started telling me about his friend Goldie Taylor, and about all of her accomplishments. Goldie Taylor was a famous television personality with connections in the literary field. Her biggest achievement of all to me was the fact that she was a successful author. That was my dream.

Dr. Freeman gave me his word that she would help me. Before I left

his office that day I had Goldie Taylor’s personal number in hand. It was the blessing I had been waiting for. This provided me with the incentive I needed to keep on pushing. Before calling Goldie, I went to the public library, and did some research into her life. I will be the first to say that I was blown away

by what she had accomplished.

The day that I spoke with Goldie, I could tell that there was some-

thing in her voice which let me know that everything would be alright. She was all ears when I shared my story. I told her about the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I was surprised by the fact that she told me that she had also been a victim. There
was an instant bond welding between us. I asked her if she knew Phaedra Parks. She told me that she did, but I didn’t go into any details at that point because Goldie and I still needed to feel each other out. She agreed to meet with me the next week. I sent her my manuscript by email

so she could read it in the meantime.

The following week I met Goldie Taylor in the lobby of the RitzCarlton hotel on Peachtree St. She came with gifts in hand. Goldie was a short woman compared to me. She had hair the color of gold, golden skin, and golden eyes. I could easily see why her name was Goldie. She had given me a signed copy of her own book, several other books and a gift card from Barnes and Noble. In addition to that, she had a contract for me to sign. She was so moved by my story, not only my story, but the stories that resided within the pages of my first book, ‘Life Beyond These Walls’.

She agreed to represent me as my agent. Many promises were made,

and I was left with a new outlook on life. With my contract signed and dated the next few weeks, I seemed to be making progress. Goldie had already explained to me the grueling process of editing, so I wasn’t too pressed about how quickly this project would jump. I was just happy the process had started.

My life
was beginning to take a perfect shape. I had stopped stress-

ing, and was now dreaming of all the things I would be able to provide for my children. Then on a day when I was feeling good, there came the one phone call that shifted my life yet again. The p
hone rang, and looking at the caller ID, I saw that it was Goldie Taylor calling. Feeling the excitement building inside me, I immediately grabbed the phone. My smile quickly turned to a frown. Goldie bluntly and unremorsefully explained that she had received a contract from Warner Books. It was one that she had been waiting on. The contract clearly stated that she could not work on any other projects. Just like that, my dream had died a quick death. It was the last telephone call I ever received from Goldie Taylor. I was hurt because she dropped me like a hot rock, but at the same time I was genuinely happy for her success. I wasn’t going to hate on her for being something I wasn’t. Oh well, back to square one. Back to absolutely nothing!

I hated taking the
position that I took, but it is what it is! You can’t

live without money, not in this world. Not in anybody’s world. I had to do what I had to do to take care of my children. I was back in the streets, doing what I do best. This included whatever it took
to make a way for me and my

children, I did it.

Always smart though, I knew I had to have a legal gig going on. I

had a hidden talent that hadn’t been exposed to the world yet. I was a poet, and street poetry was my calling. I was always known for rapp
ing. I knew people in the music industry, and those contacts came from me dating Drama.

I had been in the studio with a lot of Atlanta rappers before they

made it big. My love for rhymes allowed me to cross paths with many of today’s famous artist inclu
ding Young Dro, Shawty Lo, Fabo, Big Kuntry Kane, TI, Gucci Mane, DJ Jelly and a host of others.

The first time I really made any noise was when I remixed Shawty Lo’s single, “Dope boys got these girls gone wild,” I switched it to, “Dope girls got these b
oys going wild,” I went to his studio, got with his producer, Born Immaculate, and remixed his song, on his set.

Now that was how one makes a huge statement! It was funny watch-

ing all his boys coming to the back of the studio, standing around the booth, and staring at me through the glass. They needed to witness my act with their own eyes. They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. I was the truth.

Believe that!

I stayed in the studio, destined to make a hit. Something had to give. The book I wrote in prison was on hold because I didn’t know what to do with it. Phaedra was acting brand new, I guess she had cut us all off, and gone on with her life. I wasn’t tripping too hard though. I was really just glad that all of it was over. I never truly understood why she refused to help me rebuild my life. I mean, she was all for it when we were doing illegal stuff. I had one major thing on my side. I had a book now, a book that every young girl in the

world needed to read.

Why wouldn’t she be all for it when it was something legal and positive? If our relationship had been restricted to boss and worker then I would have had a better understanding. But Phaedra was my friend. She was a godmother to my son Jayvien. She didn’t even give me the honor of sitting down with me to describe my mother’s last day on earth. What had I done to

push her so far away? I just couldn’t understand it.

Recording a hit was now at the top of my to-do list. This was prior to Nicki Minaj hitting the music scene. There weren’t any new female rappers out, so the market was wide open. There had to be a way out for my children and me. I was good at anything I put my mind to, so I knew it was the perfect time to come out with a hit. I was sitting at my son’s father’s house. When I

heard Decatur Slim singing a hook.

“Get a life, get some swag... Stop popping at the mouth, and pop

tags…”

The hook kept going off in my head. Like every five minutes, I

would hear it again. After a while, the light bulb went on inside my head. That was it. This was going to be the hook for my hit song!

I sat down with my son’s father and my cousin, Scott, not just by

chance, but because they were experienced. Scott had already recorded and released an album, and Decatur Slim was one of the best rappers I had ever come across. We wrote the song in less than an hour and we knew it was a hit. We went straight to Patchwerk Recording Studios and recorded it. ‘BOY STOP’ by Lady Lenox.