Gimme an O! (7 page)

Hours later, Anthony had fielded calls from reporter after reporter, and was wary about answering his phone. But when it rang late in the afternoon, he snatched up the receiver nonetheless. “Yo.”

“Anthony, hi. It’s Keith Alabaster.”

His lawyer. Thank God. Hopefully, he had some good news. “Hey, Keith. What’s the word?”

“I have some news. Ginger’s switched lawyers.”

“What?”

“It’s true. Her first one dropped her. He finally returned my call this morning to explain what’s going on. He said he didn’t feel Ginger was being reasonable regarding the settlement and he wasn’t the lawyer for her.”

“She no longer has legal representation?”

“No, she’s got a new lawyer. I heard from him just minutes ago. You’ll never believe who. That slimy character, Zack Mulroney.”

“Wait a minute—that guy you see all over the TV?”

“That’s the one.”

“I thought he did personal injury.”

“He’s the kind of lawyer who bends to your specifications.”

“Great. So what do you think this means?”

“That she knows she doesn’t have a good case. She’s pulling out all the stops.”

“And?”

“Now we wait and see. Her new lawyer said he wants a meeting as soon as possible. Tomorrow’s good for me, so we’re going to get together and go over the case.”

“Just you and him?”

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can’t convince him that Ginger’ll lose everything if she decides to see this case taken to court.”

“Whoa—what about setting up a meeting with all of us?”

“I’m going to suggest that once we’ve gone over the facts. We’ll see what happens.”

“All right. Thanks, man.”

“Hang in there. We’ll get this resolved one way or another.”

If the gods were on his side, Anthony thought, Ginger would see reason. And by this time next week he would be moving back into his house, getting his life back on track with the woman who had sworn to love him for better or for worse.

So much for wishful thinking.

It was clear that Ginger wasn’t about to see reason any time soon, and even more clear that his life as he had known it would not soon return to normal.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, bro.”

Anthony stared up at Kahari with a dumbfounded expression. “What is her game? I mean, she won’t talk to me, wants me to pay her five million, and now she goes and does this?”

Anthony’s gaze went to the tabloid, the
Daily Blab.
Though as far as he was concerned, it should have been called the
“Daily Rag,” considering the pathetic lengths their writers went to verify any truth to their alleged stories.

Ginger’s picture took up the bottom right of the front cover, below the grainy picture of an alien from another of the rag’s Pulitzer prize-winning stories. His wife’s eyes were red and swollen in a photo that did her beauty no justice. The caption below read,
HORNY BALL PLAYER’S WIFE LIVES IN CONSTANT FEAR
.

Anthony wanted to rip the paper to shreds, but that wouldn’t give him any true satisfaction. He needed to see the extent of this paper’s story, so, with reluctance, he flipped it to page five.

“Wow. A whole full color page.” There were pictures of him and Ginger during happier times, then a picture of him and the prostitute. In the court of public opinion, pictures like this would lead to him being stoned in the town square.

Anthony tossed the paper onto the lounge chair beside him. He couldn’t stomach any more of this.

He had gone to Kahari’s place to work on some details of the youth center the two planned to open, but now he was in no mood for that. God only knew if he ever would be, with this nightmarish Ginger situation hanging over his head. If she succeeded in getting five million out of him, he would be short that much for the center.

“Maybe she’s on drugs,” Anthony suggested lamely. As far as he knew, Ginger didn’t touch the stuff. He’d never even
seen her drink more than one glass of wine. But what did he really know about her?

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Not to me.” For the life of him, Anthony couldn’t understand what was wrong with his wife. Afraid of him? Since when? Why the hell would she tell the media this? Unless she was trying to smear him in the papers in hopes that he would pay her the money she wanted.

Never in a million years would he have expected this to be his fate, not after promising before God, family, and friends that he would love Ginger forever. So what if they hadn’t had the explosive kind of love most people had when they married? His parents had had that kind of love. Then his father went on to have it with five more wives.

He’d had it once, too, in college. His relationship with Claudette had ended in disaster. Anthony had learned from watching his parents that the explosive kind of love was overrated. Now he knew that a person needed someone with whom they were compatible, someone who would respect them. A person you could talk to and never feel angry enough to argue with. Arguments led to places he didn’t want to go.

Which is exactly what pissed him off about what Ginger had told this rag. She knew how much he detested fighting, that his own father had beaten a couple of his wives and landed in jail.

Was that what worried her? That he was more like his father than he knew?

Truth be told, it was his secret fear. Which is why he knew that a stable, friendship-based marriage was the way to go for him.

“Has LaTonya heard from Ginger?” Anthony asked Kahari.
LaTonya was Kahari’s sister. She and Ginger weren’t close friends, but they talked at least once a week.

Kahari shook his head. “If she has, she hasn’t told me. Which I’m sure she would.”

“Will you ask her?”

“Sure.”

“Let me know. Better yet, tell LaTonya that if she speaks to Ginger, to tell her to call me. Or maybe I ought to give LaTonya a list of questions to ask her, ’cause I sure as hell can’t figure the woman out.” Anthony watched Kahari take a long pull off his beer. “And don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“Hey.” Kahari held up both hands. “I didn’t say a thing.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“All I’m thinking is that I’d like to know what Ginger’s game is, too.”

Anthony bit down on his bottom lip as he stared out at the waterfall structure in Kahari’s pool. He missed his home. Not being able to return was a son of a bitch.

“Maybe what I should be doing is talking to Dr. Love. She talked to Ginger. She’s probably the best one to give me an idea of where my wife’s head is at.”

“I thought they only spoke in passing.”

“Passing or not, she had to have formed an opinion of Ginger.”

Kahari shrugged. “What are you gonna do—call her up?”

Anthony stood, an idea taking shape in his mind. “I’m gonna use your computer.”

He went inside, and Kahari followed him. He didn’t break stride until he reached the large office adjacent to the living room.

“What are you doing?” Kahari asked.

“Searching the web for Dr. Love. I think she said something to Jay Leno about having an online clinic.”

Kahari watched silently as Anthony punched in his search options. “Bingo,” Anthony said. “This is her site.”

On the homepage of Dr. Lecia Calhoun’s site, there was a color picture of her. She wore a smart business suit, a very different look than the sexy one she’d sported on the
Tonight Show.
He liked the sexier look, but not for obvious reasons. This business suit made her seem more uptight. More reserved. Not at all the woman full of spunk whom he had dealt with on national television.

“Let me see.” Anthony scrolled down the page. “Contact info. Okay, good.” He clicked on an e-mail icon. The e-mail address popped up, and he jotted it down on a notepad beside the mouse. Then he logged onto his personal e-mail account, to send her a message.

He was about to write something when he looked over his shoulder at Kahari. “Bro, do you need to hang all over me?”

Kahari eyed him skeptically. “Oh, I see. You want to write Dr. Love for some personal advice.”

“I just want a moment to think in peace. You understand.”

Kahari smirked. “Yeah, I know. It’s the same way you are when you’re thinking about your plays. I’ll be outside. Holla when you’re ready.”

Anthony nodded his appreciation. Then he thought about exactly what he would write to Dr. Love.

Lecia’s heart rammed against her chest when she read the simple e-mail from Anthony Beals. Her first instinct was to reach for the delete key. Her finger hovered over the key, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it.

Instead, she found herself rereading the message.

Instead of her heart rate calming, it continued to accelerate and was now beating overtime.

It was the shock, of course. The last thing she had expected to receive was an e-mail from Anthony Beals, much less one in which he offered an apology.

Oh, damn. What to do?
It was a surprise that she was even
contemplating the situation. Her brain told her that talking to Anthony Beals was not advisable. Yet the earnestness with which he’d written had touched her.

She pulled her hand back, deciding to leave the message in her inbox. She would sit on it and decide the best thing to do later.

Damn it all to hell.

There was no point in cursing his bad luck any longer. He had done plenty of that and it hadn’t changed a thing. At this point, the situation was laughable.

In a twisted, not really funny sense, of course.

He supposed he had gotten what he asked for. He’d begged Keith to set up a meeting with Ginger, despite his lawyer’s better judgment, and Ginger had finally agreed. But it had been a disaster.

He could still hear Ginger’s outrageous sobs as she and her scam artist lawyer left Keith’s office. To anyone within hearing distance, the woman seemed terrified of him. He was thankful that at least there were no media people hanging around, although he wouldn’t bet his life on that.

“We tried,” Keith had said once Ginger was gone. “Now will you let me handle this my way?”

“Sure,” Anthony replied, his voice void of emotion. He was still reeling from the fact that Ginger had actually cowered as she sat across the table from him, as if she expected him to lunge over it and give her a good ass-whooping.

Either she really believed that—though he could see no reason for her to think he would ever lay a finger on her—or she was acting for Keith’s benefit. If his own lawyer believed him capable of violence, that rationale went, then maybe Keith would encourage him to give her what she wanted.

That was Anthony’s best guess to explain her bizarre behavior.

What he needed to do was find a way to talk to her alone, without an audience. Although after today’s disastrous meeting, he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t want to speak to him again.

There was no way he could call her up without her saying he was harassing her. And he certainly couldn’t go to her door.
His
door.

Anthony laughed out loud as he slammed a hand on the steering wheel of his Navigator.

“Shit,” he mumbled. Then he started the engine. He’d be damned if he was going to be coerced into giving Ginger five million dollars, even just to shut her up.

He needed help. Someone who could talk to his wife on his behalf.

Someone like…Dr. Love.

His spirits lifted. He’d already e-mailed her to apologize. Now he thought about what she might say to Ginger, who was into all those therapy gurus, like Dr. Phil and Dr. Love. No doubt that was why Ginger had spoken to Dr. Love in the first place. Surely if Dr. Love attempted to talk to her, she would listen.

And as far as he was concerned, the good doctor owed him. She was the one who had put the final nail in the coffin of his marriage. It was only fair that she extract it.

Oh, yeah. This was a beauty of a plan. If Dr. Love told Ginger that she should give her husband a second chance, Ginger would seriously consider the doctor’s advice.

Dr. Love still hadn’t replied to the e-mail he’d sent last week. He wouldn’t bother trying to reach her that way again. And she could easily avoid his phone call.

No, he had to see her in person. And thanks to Ben, he knew exactly where to find her.

It was time for Plan B.

Perhaps Plan B could have waited a few days, but when Kahari’s phone call woke him up bright and early the next morning, he knew he didn’t have the luxury of time. “Yo, T,” Kahari said. “Turn on the radio.”

“What?” Anthony asked, barely able to figure out if he was dreaming or not.

“Ginger’s on Depraved Dave’s show, and dawg, it ain’t pretty.”

That got his attention. Anthony threw off the covers and swung his legs off the bed. “What station is it?”

“It’s 90.5, WXJY.”

“I’ll call you back.”

Anthony replaced the receiver and rushed out of the bedroom and to the living room, where he turned on the stereo and searched for the station.

“…did you expect?” That was Depraved Dave’s voice. “I mean, sports figures—I don’t know one of them that’s ever faithful. Not even with a woman as hot as you.”

“He always told me he was different, and I believed him.”

“And I’ve got some swampland in Florida for sale. Wanna buy it?”

“I know now how stupid I was,” Ginger said. She sounded defensive. “You live and you learn.”

“So you’ve gotten over him. You’re moving on.”

“Trying, yes.”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“No. I’m still grieving the loss of my marriage.”

Grieving, my ass, Anthony thought.

“The problem is,” Ginger went on, “Anthony has been completely irrational. I guess he didn’t expect me to kick him out. Now he says he wants to work things out….”

“But?”

“But I think he’s lost his mind. He’s harassing me. Calling and leaving horrible messages. He says that if he can’t have me, no one can.”

“He said that?”

“Well, not in so many words…”

“Liar!” Anthony shouted.

“And have you gone to the police?” Depraved Dave asked.

“I’ve got a restraining order, yes.”

“Son of a—” Dave stopped short. “If there’s one thing I disagree with,” he began emphatically, “it’s violence against women. If your wife wants out of the marriage, let her go.”

“That’s all I want,” Ginger said. “To be able to get my divorce, and what I’m due based on our prenuptial.”

If he could, Anthony didn’t know whether he’d have Ginger committed to an asylum or smack her senseless. He knew the latter would give him a hell of a lot more satisfaction—if he were the type to ever touch a woman. But he never would, no matter how far a woman pushed him.

“Ginger, I thank you for taking time out to talk with us today.”

“I thank you for having me.”

“And, buddy—yeah, I’m talking to you, Mr. MVP, Mr. Raiders star—let this beautiful woman go. You messed up. Deal with it.”

“Screw you,” Anthony said to the radio. Then he shut it off.

Seconds later he was in the bedroom reaching for his jeans. He had originally figured Plan B would wait a few days, but now he knew it couldn’t.

If he was going to get through to Ginger, he had to act now.

And Lord only knew he needed to get through to Ginger. It would be one thing if he had cheated on her, or had even tried to cheat on her. But he hadn’t, yet he was being crucified in the media.

He needed this remedied. Fast. The sooner he and Ginger publicly reconciled, the sooner he would regain credibility and get on with his life.

Fully dressed, an Oakland Raiders cap on his head, he headed downstairs. His walk was purposeful, the kind that told people not to get in his way.

It was time to pay a visit to the notorious Dr. Love.