After his radio interview a few weeks ago that publicly aired out the couple's dirty laundry, Nene just couldn't take anymore of Gregg's lies. She had trusted him with her deepest secrets for years, and he flushed it away. "I don't need him," Nene thought aloud as she packed her Coach suitcases, "I'm moving out!" She had found a spacious condo with south-facing windows in Buckhead that had gone into foreclosure. It held for her the new freedom of post-Gregg life—she had to have it. The marble lobby and doorman made her feel established and safe, and the ceramic statuettes evoked the kind of class she always sought. But after decades of living with her husband and kids, she wasn't quite ready to live alone. So she put out an ad for a roommate:
Single Black Female seeks former New York model who has a thing for older men for two-bedroom cookie cutter condo.
Nene was soon inundated with calls from prospective roommates, She should have been more specific about the word "model." She grew tired, Thoughts of her failed marriage bubbled in her mind. And then she thought of how she'll make money. Karyn Greer of 11Alive will never hire me now! she whimpered. Soon she was in full-blown hysterics. Her cries were so loud, she didn't even hear the knock at the door. In walked in a gorgeous woman.
"Here, honey, let me fix you a cocktail."
"Who the hell are you?" Nene snapped, thinking she might not be cut out for this single life after all.
"My name's Cynthia, I responded to your roommate ad."
"This isn't really a good time..."
"Shh...shh... do you prefer vodka or whiskey?"
"I said it wasn't a good time... Oh, vodka."
Soon the girls were drinking and laughing, laughing and drinking. They found they had a lot in common: Cynthia was a former model who's walked in fashion shows around the world, and Nene was a former local stripper. They both don't have relationships with their fathers, and they both yearn for the attention of the limelight. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. But what they didn't realize was they both once loved a man very deeply, an older, balder man named Peter.
The girls became inseparable, going to friend's plays and laser fat sessions. They went to see their friend Sheree's big acting debut. With She by Sheree on hiatus, Sheree could finally focus on her real passion for the stage. After being picked up by the exclusive agents The People Store, Sheree was encouraged to take a part for free in "Child Support Man" to sharpen her skills. The play had a lot of screaming and overacting. She told the girls it's a huge role. It's her big break. Next: Hollywood. But the role was barely a cameo, stuck at the very end like a fleeting afterthought just so producers could sell a few more measly tickets. Cynthia remarked, “It’s a long way from the chitlin’ circuit to Broadway,” and the girls laughed and laughed.
Next the girls ran into Phaedra, whose newborn may or may not be human. "I heard you had some questions about my baby," Phaedra approached Cynthia, "If it's an alien." Dwight, wearing a Martha Stewart straw hat, had gabbed that Cynthia was questioning how far along Phaedra's pregnancy was. It was Kim that was talking about Phaedra's baby, but Cynthia didn't squeal on Kim. She did grow angry though. Her eyes closed to slits and, towering above Phaedra, she said in a serious, low voice, "I never said any of those things, and if you ever accuse me of that again, I will cut your husband up into tiny pieces and suffocate your baby on vaginal powdered sugar and make you watch."
Phaedra was petrified. She ran away, knowing never to cross Cynthia again, but Nene missed the interaction. She was too busy flirting with Peter, Cynthia's older fiance. They were set to marry, but it didn't feel right in Cynthia's heart. Nene, on the other hand, was on the prowl, and the two had a history together, While aboard a cruise once, Nene and Peter fell madly in love. But then the ship hit an iceberg and though they both survived and moved to Atlanta, they never spoke again. That is until Cynthia found Nene. They would have to speak again under these new circumstances, but keep their love a secret for everything's changed! They had gotten in a huge fight a week ago, a fight founded on secret emotions, but now they've made up. "We're in love again," Nene joked. Cynthia wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she could sense a closeness and grew jealous.
Soon Cynthia started talking like Nene: Bam! Bam! Started hanging out with Nene's friends. Started dressing in drapey tops like Nene. Cynthia even invited Nene to get their hair done together. Nene stayed downstairs and got her normal Rihanna orangey-bleach top-swoop style. Looks nice, Nene thought to herself. She was a fine looking single black female—she'll find a man again. Then out comes Cynthia from the other room with the exact same style. Nene's heart dropped. Something wasn't right.
Kim invited the girls over to watch her have the fat vaporized out of her butt using red lasers in preparation for her upcoming worldwide smash hit tour. Cynthia, with Nene's hairstyle and clothes on, asked her to talk downstairs.
"SIGN THIS FRIEND CONTRACT!" she yelled through tears as she whipped out a printed packet of papers. "Circle yes or no: Will you be Cynthia's friend?" Other stipulations read that only President Barack Obama could void the contract. "We're not 15! We're not married," Nene said in shock. Cynthia whipped out a gun and pointed it at Nene.
"Be my friend, damnit!" Cynthia cried and Nene lunged at her, trying to wrestle the gun out of her hands. Cynthia had a tough grip, and Nene couldn't get it free. With screams, Nene whipped off her stiletto heel and whopped Cynthia as hard as she could in the forehead, puncturing her skin and instantly killing her. Nene breathed a sigh of relief as she wiped smeared make-up off her face.
"What happened?" asked Kim in a stripper nurse costume with a piece of pizza and a lit cigarette simultaneously dangling from her mouth. "Nothing now," Nene whispered. "I'm finally okay."
He didn't ask for any of this. She took it upon herself to start this…
Not a huge fan of the ankle cuff sneakers that Serena (and KD) are wearing…
Kind of strange that some random lady started a GoFundMe for that kid. I'm curious…
Can Tim Lee get any more pitiful?
Are my nards going to get irradiated?
sarcasm, and the lost art therein.