“Have you been listening to me?” Anthony asked.
A horn blared. “Son of a bitch!”
“Yo, Ben. Maybe you ought to call me back. When you’re off the road.”
“No, I’m not calling you back. Are you at the hotel? I can swing by and pick you up for lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to do this interview, T. If for no other reason than to prove to the world that you’re not some type of pervert. This isn’t just about you and Ginger. This is about your career. The Raiders love you, but for how long? If they think you’re a liability, you can kiss your career good-bye. Then there’s your charitable work. Who will want you at their events? It doesn’t matter if anything is proven in the eyes of the law; all that matters is the appearance of impropriety.”
“You sound like my lawyer.”
“Things are iffy now, but they don’t have to be. They can turn in your favor. So far, you’ve hidden behind your lawyer and haven’t come out and made a statement. The world needs to hear from you. Not about what happened that night, but about the Anthony Beals they know and love. Especially if you want to win this battle with Ginger in court.”
“I’m hoping I won’t have to go to court.”
“Forget court for now.” Ben’s voice held a note of exasperation. “You need some good press. Go on the show. Do the interview. Relax and be cool. Project the image of the successful quarterback that you are.”
“And what if it backfires?”
“We’re talking about the
Tonight Show
. How can it backfire? Be funny, be smart, and people will love you.”
Anthony hedged. He had to admit, the idea was sounding better by the minute. “You really think so?”
“Of course I do. You’ve got natural charm. People want to believe you, but they can only do that once you stop hiding. So go on the show and promote yourself. Be a walking infomercial for Anthony Beals. Keep the topic focused on what you’re good at—your game. Your Big Brother stuff.”
Anthony hated that he had to do this. He’d had a good name, and it had been smeared. No doubt everything looked much worse because his own wife refused to believe him.
Maybe his appearance on the
Tonight Show
would get through to Ginger.
“You really think I ought to do this?” Anthony asked.
“Hell, yeah. Make the most of this opportunity. But whatever you do, don’t mention a word about what happened on May twenty-third. Not
one
word.”
“It was a cold evening, Jay, and when I saw the woman beckoning to me, I stopped. Hell, I had to stop—she practically jumped in front of my SUV. I barely avoided hitting her as I slammed on the brakes. Then she’s motioning to me to roll down my window. So I did. I figured, who’d be so desperate as to get a passing motorist’s attention? One who needed a few bucks, that’s who. Or maybe a ride home. But as I roll down the window, she’s looking around like she’s scared or something, so I got out of my car to see how I could help her.” Anthony turned toward the audience. “Maybe it sounds crazy, but I didn’t know better. I’m not from here. I’m from small-town Tennessee.” Anthony chuckled lightly to poke fun at his own ignorance. “In small-town Tennessee, people help those in need.”
“That’s very noble of you.”
“This is my first year with the Raiders, and the first time I’ve lived in L.A. I guess I was so naive, I didn’t even realize that part of Hollywood was famous for…well, you know.”
Jay’s expression was sincere as he said, “You seem like a nice enough guy. And I know Raiders fans love you. And
since the Raiders played here for a while, I’d say you have quite a few fans right here in L.A.”
Cheers and whistles pierced the air.
Anthony held up a hand in appreciation. “Thank you, y’all.”
“You also give back to the community.”
“That’s right. I think I have a responsibility to do so. Athletes are high profile. People look up to us. Kids look up to us. For that reason, I think it’s especially important to be a positive role model. I make appearances at various events for children, fund-raise for good causes, but my main gig is being a Big Brother.”
“I’m impressed,” Jay told him, no hint of humor in his voice.
This is working, Anthony thought, barely suppressing a smile. And it was much to his surprise. Earlier, he had dreaded doing the show, expecting people to snicker and jeer as he walked onto the stage. He knew how fickle the public was when it came to celebrities. One minute they loved you, but one wrong move and they turned on you. He had been so wary of coming out on stage that he’d chugged back a couple shots of vodka to loosen himself up. The alcohol had worked wonders.
“Now, one more personal question,” Jay said. “If you don’t mind.”
Anthony knew he’d already opened the can of worms about what had happened that night. And public sentiment seemed to be going his way. What did he have to lose?
“Sure, Jay.”
“I’ve been following your love life in the tabloids.”
“Oh, great,” Anthony replied without mirth.
“I know you and your wife aren’t living together right now.
But like I said before, you seem like a nice guy. One who can be trusted.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m wondering,” Jay went on, “is there any chance you two might reconcile?”
“I love my wife, Jay. We love each other. But the media intrusion has been too much for her to handle. She’s laying low for a while. We’re both taking a break, but I have full confidence that when this dies down, we’ll work things out.”
There was more applause. Anthony gave his best smile, hoping to hell that Ginger was watching.
“If my next guest isn’t a household name yet, she will be soon. She’s a sex therapist who’s giving Dr. Ruth a run for her money. Her first book,
The Big O
, has been on the
New York Times
bestseller list for twelve weeks. Please join me in welcoming Dr. Lecia Calhoun, aka Dr. Love.”
Cheers and whistles erupted as Lecia made her way onto the stage. She remembered to smile, although her face actually ached from all the practicing she’d done. She faced the bright lights and waved, praying that she wouldn’t fall flat on her face. Angela had insisted she wear a sexier outfit than her normal conservative attire, which was why she now wore a V-neck black Armani dress with a provocative slit up the side.
Her Gucci slingbacks had a higher heel than her usual shoes, and it took all the skill she possessed to actually walk in them.
The cheers continued, and the moment felt surreal. Especially when Jay Leno met her onstage, leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek. She resisted the urge to pinch herself to confirm that this moment was true.
“Welcome, welcome,” Jay said as she took a seat on the sofa beside his desk.
Jay’s previous guest had moved over, and in her nervousness, Lecia barely took note of him. “Thank you, Jay,” she said, crossing one leg over the other, the slit in her dress exposing a good portion of her thigh. Should she switch legs? she wondered, feeling a moment of horror. Her parents would be watching the show in Florida, and she didn’t want to embarrass them.
She also knew that her sister Tyanna was in the audience, and that she would have told her, “Forget Mom and Dad. Live your life for you.”
“You’re looking very
happy
,” Jay said. “
Satisfied.
”
Lecia laughed airily, knowing exactly what Jay was implying. “I am,” she said in reply. To her ears, she didn’t sound nervous at all. She allowed for a dramatic pause so the audience and Jay would let their thoughts travel to the gutter. Then she said, “As you pointed out, my book has been on the
New York Times
list for twelve weeks, so yeah, I’m pretty happy.”
“Everywhere I go, I’m hearing, ‘Dr. Love.’ How did that get started? Is that a name you picked out for yourself?”
Lecia’s heart was beating so fast, she almost didn’t know if she would be able to speak. But she found her voice. “Pick for myself, are you kidding? That’s a name the media gave me when the book came out, and it’s stuck.”
“So tell me.” Jay lifted the book and held it up for the camera. The silhouette of a woman covered by a satin sheet was barely discernable beneath the title, a subtle hint that the book was geared for women. “
The Big O: Getting Everything You Want and More.
What made you decide to write a book about women’s…Well, why
The Big O
?”
Lecia drew in a shaky breath. She hadn’t tripped on the
stage, the audience seemed to love her, and Jay was being as nice as could be. Yet she doubted she would get over her jitters.
“I started off in medicine,” she explained, as she had on other talk shows. “I was an OB/GYN.”
“Okay.”
“In my practice, not only did I deal with women having babies, but a large number of them confided in me about their sexual frustration.”
“Was this surprising?”
“Oh, absolutely, yes. I expected some concerns, but the kind of things I could treat medically. You know, like pain during—” She stopped short, and instead used a hand gesture to try to convey “sex.”
“Sex,” Jay said frankly.
Lecia’s face flamed. “Yes.”
“My wife complains about that all the time,” Jay said in a jovial tone, then adjusted his tie in a boasting gesture.
“Really? Well, you should tell her to come see me.”
There were cheers, and Jay laughed. Settling back, he said, “All right, back to our serious discussion. You found that women were sexually frustrated. How many, if you had to break it down percentagewise?”
“Probably seventy-five percent.”
Jay’s eyes widened. “Seventy-five percent were sexually frustrated?”
Lecia nodded. “And I’m talking about women who were involved in relationships, some pregnant when I was dealing with them.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, so you realized women were frustrated and needed
some help. How did you jump from that point to writing this book? Because I always wonder how one goes about shifting gears like that. You’re a doctor, then a writer.”
“I’ve been a closet writer all my life.”
“A closet writer, then you came out.”
“Uh-huh. I was scribbling stories from the time I was a kid. But I never thought I could ever make it as a writer. So I followed my parents’ path and went into medicine. But I still had the writing bug. I’d always thought I would write fiction, but I couldn’t get past the first two chapters of any story I started. I finally decided, why not nonfiction? I had the expertise.”
“I can’t dispute that. I read the book and found it quite…
interesting.
”
“Did you, now?”
When the audience cat-called, Jay faced them with a dumbfounded expression. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I did. I didn’t see a disclaimer that said the book was
only
for women.”
“Actually, I think the more men who read it, the better off women will be.”
Hoots and howls of agreement.
“Exactly, as my wife can attest to.” Jay paused at another round of cheers. “Anyway, back to the book. You take a therapist approach.”
“I’ve always been the type of doctor who likes to talk to my patients, counsel them. I’d also studied psychotherapy. Anyway, I finally decided that with so many women sexually unsatisfied, perhaps I should consider going into sex therapy. So I switched gears, got my therapy accreditation, then began counseling patients on sexuality. I set up my practice primarily for women, by the way, since I’d dealt with women as a physician. If I thought women were unsatisfied while I was an
OB/GYN, did I ever get an earful as a therapist. That’s when I made the decision to do what I’d originally considered: write a book on the subject. And that’s how
The Big O
came to be.”
“And with its runaway success, I think it’s safe to say that there are a lot of men out there who are pretty surprised.”
Women whistled their agreement.
“
I
was pretty surprised. Not to say there aren’t satisfied women out there, but there are a heck of a lot who aren’t.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“First of all, men and women still have trouble communicating. Beyond the superficial, anyway. To complicate things, speaking about intimate matters is always a hard thing to do without hurting someone’s feelings. Add egos to the mix and it’s damn near impossible. Now, I can’t say this is the case for everyone, but based on my experience, women are much more concerned with sparing their partner’s feelings. So, if anyone ends up dissatisfied, it tends to be the woman. And men—God love ’em, but they’re not always the best listeners.”
Jay half shrugged, half nodded. “I can see that.”
“So, I don’t know.” Lecia turned and looked out at the audience. “I guess the book has been helping.”
There were exuberant female cheers.
“I’ve heard this book is so successful that women are now hosting ‘Big O’ parties—where they get together to candidly discuss their sexuality issues.”
Lecia blushed. “Yes, I’d heard that.”
“Did you ever imagine you’d affect the women of America this way?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, I think it’s just amazing.”
There was a round of applause. Lecia smiled graciously.
“You’re Dr. Love,” Jay said when the applause died down. “You’ve written a successful book. You must be happily involved with someone.”
Lecia shook her head. “Actually, not right now, no.”
“Ah, it figures.”
Lecia swung her head to the right. She’d seen Anthony Beals when she came onstage, and for all she knew, had shaken hands with him, but was too nervous to pay him any attention. Now she saw that he was one fine-looking brother.
He looked sharp in a black blazer and white shirt that was open at the collar. His wide shoulders carried the blazer to perfection. He had flawless dark skin, well-defined cheekbones, and a neatly trimmed goatee that framed sexy full lips. If only he would smile. He also had piercing brown eyes. Or were they only piercing because he was glaring at her?
The realization made her heart skip a beat. He truly was glaring.
She knew of the infamous Anthony Beals. Had heard about his escapades on the news. She had even talked to his wife when the desperate woman approached her outside a bar one evening.
A shiver of worry slid down her spine. He didn’t know that she’d talked with his wife, did he? Oh, Lord. Maybe he did. Why else would he be looking at her with such…contempt?
Lecia wasn’t about to ask. She decided it was best to ignore him and continue her interview with Jay.
But then Jay looked at Anthony Beals and asked, “What are you saying? That a therapist has to be in a relationship in order to give advice?”
“You want the truth?” Anthony asked.
“Sure,” Jay replied nonchalantly.
Oh, God, Lecia thought.
“I think a stable relationship would be a good start, yeah,” Anthony replied.
There was some snickering in the audience.
Lecia felt anger rising in her chest. She bit back the urge to make a snide comment because that would accomplish nothing. Instead she said, “I’m a trained physician and a trained therapist. I think that qualifies me to do the job I do.”
“Maybe on paper, yeah. But if you ask me, real life experience is more important. Especially when you’re telling people to leave their husbands.”
Later, Lecia would realize that Anthony’s comment had been bait, and that she’d taken it as easily as a toddler takes candy. “I don’t advise people to leave their spouses,” she replied.
“Really? You don’t remember telling my wife to leave me?”
There was a chill to Anthony’s voice as he spoke, and the audience picked up on it. The tension changed, becoming taut, like a too-tight violin string. You could hear a pin drop in the studio.
“Is that true? You’re his wife’s therapist?” Jay was grinning, no doubt expecting her to deny Anthony’s claim. Either that or he thought it was a hilarious coincidence.
“I’m
not
her therapist.”
“Oh come on,” Anthony said. “You’re gonna deny you told her to leave me?”
“Your wife is not my patient,” Lecia insisted.
“But you spoke to her, didn’t you?” Anthony’s eyes challenged her to deny the truth. “Told her I was a pervert and said she should end our marriage as quickly as possible.”
A collective “Ooh” spread across the studio audience.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is an impromptu segment of ‘Battle of the Sexes,’” Jay announced, then laughed.
If only it were a laughing matter, Lecia thought. For her it was anything but.