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stressful time. So had the years married to Allen. Especially after she learned of his numerous affairs.
    “Now I could use some scotch,” Lecia declared.
    “Come on. You’re making things much worse than they already are.”
    “You don’t mind if I stay here until they air the show?” Lecia asked.
    “No, of course not.”
    “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to need the support.”
     
    Ben slammed the Los Angeles Times down on the desktop. The headline, REALITY BITES : SEX THERAPIST AND FOOTBALL STAR CLASH ON NATIONAL TV , jumped out at Anthony.
    “Damn it, T. I told you not to talk about that night. Did I or did I not tell you not to talk about it? I knew it would be bad news, yet you ignored my explicit instructions.”
    “Do you need to walk around like that?” Anthony asked from the seat across his agent’s desk. “I’ve had a headache since last night.”
    “A headache is the least of your problems.”
    “I didn’t want to do the show, remember? But you kept forcing the issue.”
    Ben moved away from the desk, pacing, then stopped to face him. “I told you to talk about you , not that tramp, and certainly not your marriage. You remember that conversation, don’t you?”
    Anthony merely shrugged. He was used to much more shocking press than this, and he figured there was no point getting upset over what he couldn’t change. Hell, he might as well slug back a beer and celebrate the misery of his life.
    “I thought for sure they’d pull it from the show,” he said.
    “Pull it?” Ben laughed mirthlessly. “This is Hollywood, T, where the lives of the rich and famous are more scandalous than what we see on the big screen. People love this stuff.”
    “Sorry.”
    “I didn’t want to deal with this, not when you’re a free agent. I was hoping for bigger bucks out of the Raiders this year, but who knows now? They may just want to cut their losses.”
    “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t think that hack who calls herself a therapist was going to be there.”
    “Look at the picture, T.” Ben strode to the desk and jammed a finger on the paper. “The woman looks terrified. You’ve thrown an interception, and Ginger has taken it all the way into the end zone.”
    Anthony studied the color photo plastered on the front page. The good doctor did look terrified. “Shit.”
    “I’m working on damage control, some sort of spin we can give this, but I have to say, I’m not sure I can undo this mess.”
    “The woman all but ruined my marriage. It was all I could do to sit there and listen to her go on and on about how qualified she is. I had to say something .”
    “Do me a favor, T.”
    “What?”
    “Shut up and listen.”
    Anthony raised an eyebrow. He had taken his chances by signing with an independent sports agent, rather than a large, established agency. He had admired Ben’s spunk, his passion. So far, his agent had done good by him, and he hadn’t once regretted his decision. But he didn’t appreciate being spoken to this way.
    “I say that with much love, of course,” Ben added.
    “Of course,” Anthony said, a subtle warning in his voice.
    Ben smiled sheepishly. “You know I want what’s best for you.”
    “And ultimately you.” Anthony held no illusions that Ben had warm and fuzzy feelings for him. This was about business. The bottom line was how marketable a commodity he was. Right now he was still hot, and, he thought, Ben would do well to remember that.
    “I was out of line, sorry,” Ben said. His tanned face had turned beet red.
    “What do you want me to do?” Anthony asked him. This time his tone was soft, conciliatory. If nothing else, he respected Ben’s opinion and his advice. In addition to Ben being his agent, Anthony considered him a friend.
    “I think it’s best that you lay low. Don’t answer the phone unless you see my number. And forget ordering room service. I’ll bring you what you need.”
    “And?” Anthony asked, because he knew