Body Check (18 page)

As the story came out, Janna's mind raced:
Not Theresa's fault . . . My fault . . . Should never have introduced them. . . . Should have known better. . . . Should not have cut Lubov slack on the train. . . . Should have taken it seriously. . . . My fault . . . My fault . . . My fault.

During the telling, Janna held her friend, gently rocking her. “It's okay,” she whispered, smoothing her unruly hair. “It's okay.”

“I wish I were dead,” Theresa sobbed.

“No, you don't. You're just upset right now, and you have every right to be.”

Theresa whispered something in response, curling up even deeper into Janna's lap.

“What, Terry, honey?”

“I want that bastard to pay.”

“Oh, believe me, he will. Why don't you put some clothes on and we'll go down to the police station.” A thought struck her, and she hesitated. “Theresa, are you sure there was no—you know—”

Theresa stiffened. “I'm sure.”

“Okay,” Janna said slowly, figuring it out as she spoke, “so we can skip going to the emergency room. Though your face—”

“No,” Theresa said frantically.

“But what if there are some internal injuries—”

“No. There's nothing. No examinations! I don't want anyone touching me I don't—”

“Sshh, sssh, it's okay,” Janna soothed, clutching her tighter. “It's okay.” Close to tears now herself, she struggled to think straight. Her gut instinct was to find a gun and kill Lubov for doing this, the sick son of a bitch. Her own body began shaking with outrage.
Pay for this?
Pay
was not the word for what was going to happen to that arrogant little pig
. But right now, it was Theresa she needed to focus on, Theresa who required her energy and attention. There would be time to worry about retribution later.

She lightly touched Theresa's cheek. “Are you up to going to the police to file a report?”

“Yes,” Theresa whispered.

“Good.” Again Janna hesitated. “I hate to ask this, but did he . . . tear your clothing at all? Because if he did, we might want to bring that with us to the cops as possible evidence.”

“No,” Theresa replied numbly. “No ripped clothing.”

Goddamn,
Janna thought.
It's going to be her word against his. No, wait . . .

“Did you draw blood when you bit him?”

“I don't know.”

Damn
.

“Janna, please stop asking all these questions,” Theresa begged.

“Honey,” Janna said gently, “what the police will be asking you is going to be ten times worse. You know that, right?”

Theresa didn't respond.

“So you better be sure you're up to dealing with this.”

“I will be,” Theresa said woodenly. “Because I want that piece of shit to pay.” She looked up into Janna's eyes. “I'm sorry now I bugged you so much about him, Janna.”

Janna began to cry. “Don't you apologize for anything! I'm the one who's sorry. If I'd known he was like this, I swear to God, Theresa, I would never have introduced you. You're my best friend, I would never have put you in danger like this.”

“I know that,” Theresa choked, then burst into a small hiccuping laugh. “Jesus, will you look at the two of us? We're a good pair.”

“The best pair,” Janna sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“I'm going to go get dressed,” Theresa announced, sitting up. She shuffled listlessly towards her bedroom. “It's time to make sure he never tries to do this to anyone else.”

 

 

Later, after a
few numb, awful days passed, and she had helped Theresa hire one of New York's top female attorneys—something dawned on Janna. The repercussions of this case extended to
her
. She was a publicist for the New York Blades. This was a PR nightmare, precisely the kind Kidco hired her to handle. The day Theresa's attorney held a press conference and went public with the case against Lubov, Janna seriously considered calling in sick for the rest of the week. She didn't know how the hell she was going to be able to walk into the Blades' locker room without spitting in Lex's face. Worse, she didn't know how the hell she was going to be able to walk into Lou's office and be expected to take part in plans for damage control. Lubov had attacked her best friend. How on earth was she supposed to turn around and work on saving this guy's image, or the image of the team? She couldn't. It was absurd, impossible. It was also her job.

Walking into Met Gar, she felt as if she were moving under water. All of her actions felt labored, as though performed against a great wall of invisible resistance. She had deliberately avoided looking at the morning papers and listening to the news, knowing full well what she'd read and see. She could already imagine the talking heads on all the various sports channels discussing the case, mentioning fresh-faced little Lex Lubov in the same breath as Mike Tyson. Janna's spirits rallied momentarily as she recalled that Tyson's case had resulted in conviction. Hopefully, it would be the same with Lubov.

She entered the PR office and was immediately accosted by her assistant, Sophie, who looked frantic.

“Janna, the phones are ringing off the hook about this Lubov thing. What do you want me to—”

“Not now, Sophie. Not until I've talked to Lou.”

She waved her off and walked on. She was still far down the hall from Lou's office but already she could hear his voice, roiled and intense, ricocheting down the corridor.
Welcome to hell,
she thought, wordlessly slumping past Lou's secretary, whose switchboard was lit up like a Christmas tree.
I don't want to go in there. You have to go in there
. She entered Lou's office.

“Janna, Jesus Christ, where the hell have you been? Cowley and I have been on pins and needles waiting for you to get here!”

“There was a delay on the subway,” Janna lied, peeling off her coat. Not really looking at either of them, she took up her usual seat on the couch opposite Cowley.

“You see this?”

Janna glanced up to see Lou holding that day's edition of the
New York Sentinel
. Splashed across the front cover was a huge picture of Lubov with a headline in all caps that screamed, RUSSKY RAPIST? Sickened, Janna nodded and averted her gaze, wishing to God she could just vanish—poof!—in a ball of white smoke, never to be seen or heard from again.

“Look at this.” Lou snatched up a crumpled bunch of pink “While You Were Out” messages, letting them fall to his desk like confetti. “
Seventeen
pulled out of the photo shoot.
New York
pulled out of an article
and
a shoot. Bauer Skates is killing their endorsement deal with him. The Sports Chick on WJOX doesn't want to interview him.
ESPN
magazine isn't sure whether they're going to put him on their January cover. You know what this is? A fucking, unmitigated nightmare.” He dropped down into his seat behind his desk, cradling his head in hands. “Corporate is going ballistic. They want this fixed, and fast.”

“What do they suggest we
do
?” Jack Cowley asked in frustration.

Janna had a few choice ideas but kept them to herself.

Lou lifted his head. “First thing? We go down and talk to the team and make sure we're all on the same page with this. We tell them we don't want any of them to comment on this in public at all, unless it's to say Lex is their teammate, and they stand by him and his story one hundred percent.”

“What if his story is a lie?” Janna asked quietly.

“What if it is?” Lou shot back. “We can't be bothered with that shit right now! Our primary job is to make sure this doesn't impact the Blades' ability to sell tickets, period. You got a problem with that?”

“No,” Janna managed in a barely audible voice.

“Good, because I'm depending on you here, Janna. I know you dealt with shit like this when you were with the network. Now. What do you think we should do next?”

Janna was silent. There was a buzz in her head, getting louder and louder.

“Janna?”

She licked her lips, trying to compose her thoughts. Lou seemed far away, like she was viewing him through the wrong end of a telescope.
Is this how people feel before they faint?
she wondered. She hoped not. “Next we should . . . um . . . issue a statement to the press, and—”

“Right, right,” Lou cut in impatiently, “telling them the same thing we told the team, that we stand by Lubov one hundred percent. I'll write that up. In the meantime, I want you to talk to the guys, Janna.”

God, no. Please, no
. “Lou,” Janna said, rubbing her forehead in an effort to silence the buzzing, “could Jack do it instead? I'm not feeling too well today.”

“I got something else planned for Jack,” was Lou's dismissive reply.

“Can't wait to hear this,” Jack deadpanned.

Lou ignored him. “Like I said a minute ago, Corporate is going crazy over this. Lubov's the one they've been on us to push as ‘the next big thing,' as you both know. Now something like this comes along and they're panicking. They want us to fight fire with fire.”

Janna tensed. “What does that mean?”

“Jack, I want you to dig up everything you can on this bitch, Theresa, whatever the hell her name is. Where she's worked, who she's fucked, where she hangs, the whole shebang. The idea is to discredit her, make her look like the gold diggin' whore she probably is.” He shook his head disgustedly. “These women, they come on to these famous jocks like gangbusters, and then when the guy turns around and tries to give her what she's been teasin' him for, they scream rape. Who the hell are they kidding? They know these guys are likely to settle out of court; that's why they do it. They just want the fucking money.”

“That's not true,” said Janna.

Lou gave a curt laugh. “Oh, it's not? No offense, but when did you turn into Gloria Steinem? Believe me, pussycat, I've been in the business a lot longer than you have. I know a cocktease when I see one, but more importantly, I know a cocktease who smells cash. This bitch smells cash.”

“She's not a whore, Lou!” Janna snapped. “The woman was attacked!”

“How can you be so sure?” Jack Cowley demanded, clearly siding with Lou.

“Because she's my roommate!”

Silence filled the room, awful, pregnant, and ominous. The buzzing in Janna's head stopped, and she closed her eyes, waiting—for the dismissal, for the shouting. Instead, Lou said to her in a voice so calm it was terrible, “Could you repeat that, please?”

“She's my roommate,” Janna repeated. “Theresa is my roommate.”

“Jesus, Mary and Saint Joseph.” Lou struggled out from behind his desk and approached Janna, one hand gripping his chest as if in cardiac distress. “You're shitting me, right? Please tell me you're shitting me.”

Janna stared down at the carpet.

“Holy Mother of God, what did I ever do to deserve this?” Dazed, Lou slowly began circling his office. “Okay. Okay. Janna?” Wincing, Janna slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay, hon? If you ever—
ever
—introduce one of your girlfriends to any of the players again, I will fire you. You got that, sweetie?” Janna nodded dumbly. “The same holds true for you: If I
ever
find you're mixing business with pleasure,
you are outta here
. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes,” Janna whispered.

“Good. Terrif. Glad we understand each other.” He circled back to his desk and heaved himself back into his chair. “Just when I think things couldn't get any worse . . .”

“Actually, I think things might be getting considerably better, and soon,” Jack Cowley offered cryptically. He'd been deep in thought throughout Lou's speech to Janna, and now had the look of a man who'd had an epiphany.

“Care to elaborate?” Lou pressed.

“Well, rather than wringing your hands over Janna's connection to the . . . defendant”—he flashed Janna an overly polite smile that made her skin crawl—“let's use it.”

“How?”

“We have Janna persuade her to drop the suit completely.”

“What?!!” Janna squawked.

Lou was nodding his head slowly, taking it all in. “More, I want to hear more.”

“Janna talks her into dropping the suit by pointing out how her name will be dragged through the mud, and how she's not likely to get much money from it anyhow. Lubov's good name is restored, we don't have a PR nightmare on our hands, and everyone goes on with their lives. It's a quick, painless solution, and it's exactly what Corporate wants.”

“Except I won't do it,” Janna retorted.

“Why not?” Cowley asked. “Are you one hundred percent sure things happened the way your friend said they did? Were you
there
?”

“No, I wasn't
there,
” she replied vehemently. “But I saw the condition Theresa was in afterwards. She was a mess. Her cheek was bruised. She wouldn't lie about something like this.”

“You're sure?” Cowley asked again.

“Doll face, listen.” Lou's tone was coaxing. “I can see you care about your friend deeply. Don't you realize the pain you'll be saving her if you talk her into forgetting this whole thing? You'll be doing her a favor.”

“Oh, really?” Janna's tone was curt. “And what about the next woman Lubov attacks? Will I be doing her a favor, too?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I'm not doing it, Lou.”