God's Gift to Women (28 page)

“Terri, watch out!”

Olivia cut her across the shoulder, then she put her in a headlock and put the blade against her stomach.

“Throw that gun over here, right now, or you’re going to witness your first abortion.”

“Don’t do it, Julian. She’ll kill both of us!”

“Have it your way!”

Olivia pressed the blade into Terri’s stomach. Blood gushed out, staining her white dress.

“Stop!” I screamed out. “Take it!” I slid the gun over to her.

“Here we are, just one big happy family,” she said while waving the gun around playfully. “After I shoot you, I’m gonna go find your little princess and blow her brains out, too! What do you think about that?”

All of a sudden the studio door swung open. Mitch was standing in the doorway in his drawers pointing a. 45.

“I think somebody else is gonna pick up all these damn tapes!”

Then he unloaded into her chest. The force of the shots sent her flying through the studio window. As Olivia screamed and kicked down twenty-five stories, Samantha ran over to the window and yelled out, “Don’t forget to hold that note, Miss Randall!”

That’s the last thing I remember before I fell into unconsciousness. When I came to, there were two paramedics hovering over me screaming into their radios.

“You chose one helluva way to bring in the new year, Mr. Payne,” the paramedic said.

“Where’s my daughter?” I asked while trying to sit up. “And where’s Terri?”

“Please lie still. You’ll only make the bleeding worse.” The radio station was on the twenty-fifth floor. I didn’t feel strong enough to make it to the ambulance—let alone the hospital. The bullet had penetrated my left side and exited through my back. It burned like hell.

“Am I gonna die?”

They both paused, then looked at one another as if to seek the other’s opinion. That terrified me. Once we boarded the elevator, they began broadcasting my vital signs into the radio. I didn’t know the significance of the blood pressure and heart rate numbers, but judging by the urgency in their voices, I was in trouble.

“Where’s my daughter? And where’s Terri?” I asked again.

“Relax, Mr. Payne, your daughter is—”

He stopped in midsentence as the elevator doors opened on the lobby level. Suddenly, a wave of photographers and reporters rushed toward me. I was blinded by a barrage of flashing lights. Although my vision was blurred, I could see the outline of several husky policemen clearing a path.

“Julian, can you tell us what happened?” a reporter yelled out.

“Who shot the security guard?” another shouted while shoving a microphone in my face.

“Fuckin’ vultures!”

I tried to lift my hand to shield my bloody face, but my arms were strapped down. The yelling was deafening—like a continuous roar. The paramedics tried to move faster, but it was no use. The lobby was packed with policemen, reporters, and nosy fans who had come to watch. The atmosphere was festive, like a circus.

“Get out of the way, please!” the paramedics yelled. “This man is in critical condition! Move, move, move!”

The paramedics fought through the main doors, but once we made it outside we came to an abrupt stop. The crowd was even larger. People were jumping up on the hood of their cars trying to get a better look. As the brisk night air blew across my bloody face, their loud voices suddenly faded—replaced by sirens and the humming of the helicopter blades. I could feel the blood soaking through the bandages.

It was obvious from the paramedics’ expressions that we were running out of time. The ambulance was only a few yards away, but the crowd was out of control. When they continued to push, the cops pushed back—violently. People were knocked to the pavement and trampled.

“I love you, Julian!” a woman screamed as she struggled to get off the ground.

“I’m your number one fan!” another woman shouted as she lifted her blouse, exposing her breasts.

Suddenly a woman lunged toward me and ripped the sleeve off my blood-soaked shirt.

“Aarrgh!”
I screamed.

“Now I’ll always have a piece of you,” she said. Her hazel eyes and deranged stare were all too familiar.

“Move back!” the cops yelled as they pulled her away. “Move back, damnit!”

They finally managed to get me over to the ambulance, but I was more concerned about Terri and Samantha. Just as they lifted me inside, I heard a faint voice screaming, “Get outta the way! I wanna see my daddy!”

When I lifted my head I saw Mitch fighting through the crowd with Samantha in his arms. Once she was close enough, she reached out for my hand and held it tight.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now that I see you, Princess.” I smiled. “Where’s Terri? Did they stop the bleeding?”

“Don’t worry about her; she’s a tough old broad.” Mitch laughed. “The paramedic said she’s gonna be fine.”

“What about Olivia, is she—”

“Dead as a doornail!” he said before I could finish. “The only way you’re ever gonna see her again is in your dreams.”

“You mean in my nightmares.”

They loaded me into the ambulance and began wrapping my wounds with more bandages. Just as the paramedics were about to close the doors, I yelled out to Mitch, “Hey, Kato, I was just wondering—where did you get the gun?”

“I got it from Old Man Joe, the security guard. He was so charged up, he shot himself in the foot.” Mitch laughed. “And how many times do I have to tell you,
I’m
the Green Hornet and
you’re
Kato!”

IT’S BEEN NINE months, seven days, and thirteen hours since that terrible night. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Olivia and what she did to Eddie. Every night I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about those hazel eyes coming out of the shadow in the studio. Sometimes I have nightmares within nightmares where I wake up from one and she’s the one tapping me on the shoulder telling me it’s just a dream. Then she starts slashing me with that box cutter while screaming, “Every dog has its day!”

As for the baby, it’s a boy—nine pounds, three ounces. We named him Edward, after Eddie. You should have seen Samantha’s face light up when she found out she had a baby brother. I guess she’ll have someone to beat up on after all. Terri and I haven’t decided on marriage yet. Our love for each other is stronger than ever, but we don’t feel the need to rush into moving in together. Everything happened so fast, we never had a chance to get to know each other, at least not in the way a husband and wife should. Besides, we’re both still in therapy. If we make it through that hell, being married will be a piece of cake.

As for my show,
Love, Lust, and Lies
is still on the air. After New Year’s Eve, the ratings went through the roof. The
New York Times
had a front-page story about the incident. CNN had a weeklong feature on stalkers. And the
Chicago Sun-Times
wrote an article titled “Fatal Attraction of the Airwaves.” The only negative press was from some dumb-ass reporter in Houston who accused me of staging the whole thing just for ratings. The listeners didn’t care one way or the other; all they wanted was their daily dose of drama.

The only positive thing to come out of that terrible incident was my inspiration to write this book. I’ve decided to dedicate it to all the arrogant men who think it could never happen to them. Maybe this will help them realize that a woman’s emotions should not be toyed with. Maybe they’ll learn that no matter what kind of understanding you have, their feelings can get out of control. All it takes is a combination of bad timing, low self-esteem, and the right person to come along to set them off.

I hope these so-called players read this book and take heed so they don’t run into another Olivia Brown. Or maybe they’ll just have to learn the hard way—like I did!

MICHAEL BAISDEN,
a Chicago native, was born June 26, 1963. He redefined marketing in the book industry when he self-published his first book,
Never Satisfied: How & Why Men Cheat.
The controversial book of short stories about infidelity sold more than 50,000 copies during its first eight months and has since sold more than 300,000 copies, a staggering figure considering Michael had no experience as a book publisher. “Achieving success is all about determination, great customer service, and avoiding negative people.”

In 1997 Michael self-published his second book,
Men Cry in the Dark.
It has become one of the most popular books ever among African American men and was adapted as a stage play by I’m Ready Productions in 2002. The play featured notable actors such as Richard Roundtree (
Shaft
), Allen Payne (
New Jack City
), Rhona Bennett (
Jamie Foxx Show
), and singers Christopher Williams and Monifa, and comedian Lavell Crawford from
BET Comicview.
In 1999, Michael self-published his third book,
The Maintenance Man,
which has also been adapted as a stage play by I’m Ready Productions in 2003.

In 2001 Michael decided to take time off from writing to pursue his lifelong dream of hosting his own nationally syndicated talk show. He got that opportunity when Tribune Entertainment choose him to host a daytime talk show called
Talk or Walk.
Unfortunately, it premiered during the week after the 9/11 attack and never had a chance to develop a following. It was canceled after only one season.

Michael saw the experience as an education about the television industry, and more importantly, about having control over his own destiny. “Money and celebrity mean absolutely nothing when the people you work with don’t share your vision!”

Michael currently resides in Miami, Florida, where he is working on several business ventures including event promotions, book publishing, and a website for singles called HappilySingle.com. Details can be found on his website (www.michaelbaisden.com).

To order online, log on to
www.michaelbaisden.com

The Sista Factor

The debut CD from Spoken Word artist B.R. Burns is entertaining and engaging.
The Sista Factor
is 12 tracks of heartfelt words that will speak to your soul. It’s a LIVE dose of reality. The CD contains the emotional poems
Moving On
and
Above Average
from the novel
God’s Gift to Women.

It also contains the smash hit poem
The Sista Factor
and the sensual and provocative piece titled,
Freak.
You’ve never heard poetry performed quite like this. After listening to it, you too will agree that SPOKEN WORD has a new speaker.

For more information go to:
www.brburns.com