Chapter 14: They’re All Sick!

Monday October 10
Before I left the hospital, they’d given me instructions on how to rehab my hip pointer. They called the first few days the ‘acute phase.’ I assumed that meant pain level because I agreed it was ‘acute.’ The suggested treatment was to rest, ice it down, take pain and anti-inflammatory meds, and to wrap it. They warned me not to try to do too much until the pain subsided some. My instinct was to stretch and exercise, but they’d warned that I had to let my injuries heal before I began to do that.

I could have ditched the wheelchair and used crutches if my arm and ribs didn’t hurt. The good news was that the swelling around my elbow had gone down. That was frankly my biggest concern. They’d thoroughly examined my elbow and a sports medicine doctor, who was also an orthopedic specialist, had assured me that it was all soft-tissue injury and nothing structurally was amiss. Besides the scare of possibly not being able to throw a ball, it frustrated me not to have the use of my right arm. Simple things you take for granted, like tying your shoes, are a major hassle when you essentially lose the use of your dominant arm.

Something I discovered was that being in pain is exhausting. I’d managed to hobble around enough to take a shower and get dressed, but when I was done, I could have used a nap. I felt like I was a ninety-year-old, the way I had to move slowly and worry that I might tip over at any moment when pain would radiate from my hip if I moved wrong.

I ordered room service for breakfast and got the guy that delivered it to tie my shoes. When Fritz finally came to pick me up, I was ready to go.

“I expected I would have to help you get ready.”

“Yesterday, you would have had to. I hate feeling helpless,” I admitted.

Fritz helped me ease into the wheelchair and grabbed my bags. It was a little awkward because his wrist was broken, but we somehow managed to get downstairs. I was glad that they had express checkout so I didn’t have to get in line to do that.

The plan for today was to go to IDC–Public Relations’ offices and prep for our press conference. Frank pulled Fritz into a meeting for Fritz to have his own prep. Rita and Halle hadn’t arrived yet.

I found Caryn in the conference room where she’d set up shop for the week. We got all the ‘how are you feeling’ stuff out of the way and then she wanted to talk about Lexi.

“I had Kendal reread your contract, and she confirmed there is a provision for you to hire what they term as ‘staff’ for the ‘duration’ of the movies. I’ve got a call into the studio to clarify what that means and what our budget is. I also need to determine whether that allows us to hire them or if the studio has to. I know that Kent said Craig was able to hire people directly, but I want to make sure of that.”

“What does Kent plan to do with Lexi?” I asked.

“We need to hire some support staff to assist the managers and help with the day-to-day operations. Until I meet with her, I won’t know where she’ll fit in. Kent is hopeful she might make it easier to open some doors for our clients. I also want to find out her long-term plans. She’s just out of high school, and I would guess that at some point she plans to go to college. I’d hate to assume anything. If she’s only here for the short term, it will limit how much training we would invest in her.”

I had no idea if Lexi even wanted to go to college. I’d assumed that this would be her first ‘real’ job. There was a soft knock on the door, and Caryn told the person to come in.

“Speak of the Devil. I bet your ears were burning,” I said as Lexi came in.

“I’m here for my interview, Ms. Buckley. I can wait if you need to finish up with Mr. Dawson.”

I suppressed the urge to laugh at Lexi being so formal. I had to remember this was a business situation and allow Caryn to handle it.

“I was just leaving. Good luck, and if I don’t see you before I leave, it was good seeing you again,” I said.

Lexi showed that she was nervous when she wiped her palms on her pants before she shook my hand. Caryn told her to get comfortable and then helped wheel me to where Frank was holding court.

On our way to the press conference, I had time to reflect on this budget/splurge dichotomy that had been used to torment me over the past year. During the prep meeting, Rita and I had disagreed on where to hold our meeting with the press. She wanted to do it at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, right in the heart of Beverly Hills’ swanky area. I’d wanted something more economical. We were talking about the people that hounded us, not studio executives. Guess who won that argument. I should have just shut up because she’d been doing this kind of thing for years. Halle teased me and called me cheap, which irritated me and made me dig my heels in.

I knew I wasn’t winning when Caryn joined us and agreed with Rita. Talk about killing my crusade. If anyone was cheap, it was Caryn.

That was how I found myself on the Rodeo Terrace that overlooked the legendary Rodeo Drive. We’d originally planned to hold the press conference in the early afternoon so that the information would be released in time for the evening news on the East Coast. Bev Mass had been correct when she warned us about our time window because the police had requested an interview for just after lunch. Luckily, Frank and his team worked their magic, and we were ready at 11:00 a.m.

I worried that we wouldn’t be able to get the press there in time but underestimated the lure of a scandal. Frank led us out to a table with a lectern at the end. I was joined by Halle, Rita, Fritz, and Lexi, who’d volunteered to talk about what she’d seen. Frank stood at the lectern and got the press to quiet down.

“Halle James will read a prepared statement, and then we will show you videos of what happened. We will then have the other people you see up here make statements, and then we’ll open it up to questions,” Frank said and sat down.

Halle’s statement outlined the different times Zander had crossed the line, on and off the set. Bev Mass’s background as a district attorney had paid off when writing the statement. Words matter when describing what happened, especially the legal definitions. Bev assured us that with just the written statement, any rookie DA would be able to put together the case against Zander. Putting bad guys away was her passion, and once Bev knew we’d made the decision to go after him publicly, she wanted to make sure we didn’t mess up the case once it went to trial.

Once she’d read her statement, Halle went off-script.

“I think about young girls today—I don’t want my future daughter, or your daughter, or any person to be afraid that they will be punished if they speak out about being abused, especially if their abuser is in a position of power. I was lucky in that I have a powerful mother who supports me, and that support negated much of the leverage my attacker had over me.

“Even with that support, I was forced into a room, and I absolutely believe that if my friend hadn’t been with me, I would have been raped. When he was thwarted, he thought he could do even more damage, and attempted to kill me and the people I was with. Unfortunately, my close friend David A. Dawson was injured when our car was rammed by Zander Lewis’s bodyguard. The coward then fled the scene,” Halle said as she became overcome with emotion.

If I could’ve gotten up without almost passing out from pain, I would have gone to her. I was glad to see her mother step up and give her a hug of comfort.

“Mark my words. Zander was just doing what he assumed from prior experience he could get away with. In the coming days, others will come forward and share their experiences of this predator,” Halle concluded, then collapsed into her mom’s arms.

I was impressed. I’d never seen this many people from the press sit that quietly before. Their usual M.O. would be to start shouting questions. Frank had one of his people begin showing the videos. He ran through them all before having the rest of us comment on them.

I hadn’t seen the whole thing before.

Brook and Halle were pushed into the room by Zander’s security, and then Zander walked in and made a big show of locking the door.

“Finally, we’re alone. Have you had time to figure out what’s best for you?” Zander asked.

“I thought I made it clear. I’m not sleeping with you,” Halle said.

You could tell that Zander was losing his self-control. I had no idea why Halle seemed to be trying to reason with him.

That was a look I never wanted to see on her face when she looked at me.

Brook bounced up from where she’d been thrown, rubbing her arm, and then punched him in the throat. He’d started to unbuckle his belt. Zander’s smirk instantly changed to a look of disbelieving pain. Brook then kneed him where it counts, and he curled up in a ball.

Halle scrambled up and watched as Zander uncurled and started to get up with a look of pure murder on his face. She kicked him in the side, he went back down, and she and then Brook kicked him a few more times.

A couple of seconds later Fritz and I burst in. I scooped them up to keep them from killing him, and almost got my own beatdown. As soon as they figured out it was me, they both broke down crying and clung to me, visibly shaking. It was like all the adrenaline left them, and all that was left was two very scared little girls.

I was impressed by Brook’s handling of Zander. He was completely surprised when she didn’t just cower in fear. Cassidy would be proud of her. I cringed when I saw Halle and Brook start to kick him in the sack and the side. You would have guessed they thought he was a piñata full of chocolate. He was lucky when I rushed in and snatched both girls up before they could do any more damage.

Then again, seeing how the girls broke down as soon as they realized they were safe made me realize just how traumatized they were by Zander’s actions. I looked around, and it seemed like most of the reporters were having the same thoughts as me.

In the van, Fritz had set up two cameras, one pointing at all the passengers and one straight ahead. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and then suddenly they were being tossed around like they were rag dolls. I said a silent prayer of thanks that they all had their seatbelts on, and wondered why the airbags didn’t go off. I guess we were hit at a weird angle when Fritz swerved. I closed my eyes when I saw what happened to me. From the way I hung in my seatbelt, it was obvious I was out cold.

They then showed the video from the forward-pointing camera. The SUV suddenly appeared at the edge of the screen on the passenger side, and it crashed into us. Shortly after we came to a stop, the passenger doors of the SUV opened, and the video caught the other security guard and Zander running from the scene. If Zander had run back the way he came, he wouldn’t have been visible, but he hadn’t. He’d run in front of our van and turned to see what had happened. Frank froze the video so everyone could see for themselves that it was, in fact, Zander Lewis.

The next-to-last video was of Fritz talking to the driver and him admitting that Zander had ordered him to ram our car. The last video almost made me sick. It showed the paramedics having to pull my apparently lifeless body from the van. They couldn’t open my door, so they’d taken the back off my seat in order to get a backboard under me and slide me out. I would have to seek them out and thank them for how professional they were and how much care they’d taken to make sure I wasn’t further injured.

Fritz was up next and described what had happened. He also reported that the police had found cocaine in Zander’s SUV. Then he conveyed that the security wasn’t Zander’s, but that they worked for the studio. With that last little tidbit, I was confident that Halle wouldn’t be seeing any overt backlash from the studio’s executives. They would be far too worried about being sued by everyone involved to risk inviting further repercussions by harassing her.

Ask any lawyer; they say you should sue everyone and see what money shakes out. The studio had much deeper pockets than Zander did. If Zander and the security people were convicted of anything, I would bet that civil suits would soon follow.

Lexi talked next and described what she had seen, and then I spent a few minutes adding my perspective. Then it was Rita’s turn. She went into full mama-bear mode and let the world know what she thought of what had happened. You had to remember that her son had survived a terrorist attack this last summer, and now her daughter could have died from an attack by her costar in their movie.

When she was done, the press found its footing and was back to normal.

“Halle! Did you ever report Zander’s misconduct to anyone associated with the film?”

“I talked to both Susan Woodley, the director for Love Letters, and Charles Conte, our studio liaison. They brought me in to complain about my performance, and I explained what had happened in my trailer with Zander. I told them about him making unwanted advances and groping me. They said they understood, but I needed to be more professional and work through it.”

“Do you know what the studio did with your complaint?”

“You’ll have to ask them. I’m sure they will be open about what steps they’ve taken to protect me and other women from Zander on this and future films,” Halle said.

I barked out a laugh, and Rita gave me a look. We all knew they had patted Halle on the head and told her to be a big girl and suck it up.

“What do you plan to do when you go back on set?”

“Nothing, because I am sure this will never happen again,” Halle said.

There had been a heated discussion about how she should handle that question. Halle wanted to get on her soapbox and let her justified indignation fly. Rita had explained the facts of life to her. If she did, she would be labeled a problem child and would be quietly blacklisted. The good old boys were still in power, and if you threatened their world order, you would never work there again. She had come right up to the line when she said that Zander was only doing what prior experience had taught him he could get away with. The implication was clear, but she hadn’t said out loud that Zander wasn’t the only sexual predator in Hollywood.

“You think he will ever see the light of day?”

“This is LA. Who knows?” Halle said to lighten the mood.

“Are you and David A. Dawson a couple again?”

Halle looked over me and smirked.

“He wishes,” she said, and then got serious. “Actually, David has been a good friend to me and my family ever since I first met him on the set of Star Academy. He seems to turn up when I need him the most. David was there for us right after Trip was shot. He was there when I needed him this weekend. He is one of those special guys mothers hope their daughters will bring home. I would be happy to date him. The only problem is David already has a girlfriend who loves him, and she and I are close friends.

“I was glad he was there the other night to keep Zander away from me. I’m devastated that because he defended me, he was literally blindsided by a predator who thinks vehicular assault and attempted kidnapping are perfectly acceptable ways to resolve issues. You have no idea how relieved I am to see the big goof is going to be okay.”

“If his girlfriend dumps him... ?”

“I will be there to pick up the pieces. The only problem is that she knows what a great guy he is and is smart enough not to ever let that happen,” Halle said.

Rita leaned over and whispered to me.

“Brook was just put on notice.”

Ms. Dixon arranged to have a lawyer go with me when I was interviewed by the police.

“We’re thinking about charging Halle James and Brook Davis with battery,” the detective said.

“We’re done. Get me out of here,” I told my new lawyer.

“You can’t do that. You’re a material witness,” the detective exclaimed.

“Watch me. As soon as I hit the street, I will seek out every camera I can find and repeat what you just said.”

What a rookie. My mom was much more intimidating. Right on cue, the door opened, and another detective came in. I looked him over and couldn’t decide if he was supposed to be playing the part of badder cop or good cop. His glare was better. You would think that living in LA, you could get some acting classes so you’d be believable. The new detective saw I wasn’t worried. I might have been, but I’d taken another pill just thirty minutes before, and it was kicking in.

“Terry, go get me a coffee. You want anything, kid?” he asked.

“I could go for a Coke.”

It looked like I was now with the ‘good cop.’

“Hey?” I asked.

“What?”

“Why do you guys think you have to intimidate everyone? If you want me to tell you what happened, just ask me,” I reasoned.

“Terry’s going through a messy divorce. His old lady put a restraining order on him today so he can’t even see his kids.”

I could see why she might do that.

“I’m Detective Drum. Did Terry read you your rights?”

I looked at my lawyer and then back to the detective. Then I looked around the interview room. Had I just been punked? They both started laughing. I began to wonder why I needed this lawyer. I planned to have a long talk with Ms. Dixon the next time I caught up with her.

“Sorry about that. I just got done interviewing Rita and Halle James and they said you could take a joke. Consider this as payback for making my job harder after that interview you all gave this morning. Now I’m going to have the press up my butt every step of the way. I understand Beverly Mass told you to let us handle things,” Detective Drum complained.

“Give me a break. The media was always going to be all over you on this one no matter what we did. That press conference was held because Halle needed to get the truth out before industry people could either try to spin it or bury it. You and I both know that they’d try to get that driver to change his testimony if they could, and they’d likely have also threatened Halle with being blackballed if she didn’t downplay things. Now that potential leverage is gone.”

“No, I get that,” he said as Terry came back with the detective’s coffee and my Coke.

Somehow, I got the impression that they’d be video-recording their interview with the driver, if they hadn’t done so already.

From there, things went much more smoothly. Terry turned out to be a funny guy. He really was going through a messy divorce, but he had a good attitude. I think my lawyer was killing it on Candy Crush. He was either doing that or texting the whole time I was interviewed. I sent a text to Ms. Dixon to let her know that we wouldn’t need him for anything else.

I hate going through security at airports. For some reason, I get pulled aside and patted down much more often than any of my travel companions. I have yet to see any of my security people get checked, which made no sense to me. What I discovered was that if you’re in a wheelchair, there’s an express lane. I didn’t even have to get in line with everyone else. It was VIP treatment all the way. It was almost like I was with either Rita James or Adrienne. I was simply flagged through.

I even jumped the line on first class when I boarded. I was thankful because it wasn’t easy to move from the regular wheelchair to the boarding wheelchair, a much smaller one that would fit to go down the aisle to my seat. I’d stiffened up during the day, and Fritz found my pain meds as soon as I was secure. I’d upgraded him to first class because I didn’t want to deal with anyone else. I put in my earbuds and found my music app. I think I was asleep by the time we were at altitude.

Tuesday October 11
My hound figured out I was hurting and abandoned his duty of watching the little ones. I woke to him crawling onto my bed. He must have heard my breathing change when I woke up. I gave him the loving he desired. I swear he told me that no one else had ever rubbed his ears and chest.

“Do you think I’ll cry if I go take a shower?”

Duke’s tail just thumped against the bed. I took that as a good sign. Too bad Duke was such a liar. Holy crap, my side hurt. I hobbled into the bathroom and found my trusty hound at my side.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got this,” I announced and focused.

My plan had been to try crutches today. Now it looked like I was destined to spend another day in the wheelchair. I was almost out of pain pills. Chuck would have to drive me to the pharmacy before school, or it would be an unbearable day.

I ended up needing my dad to help me tie my shoes and steady me as I navigated the stairs. I was relieved when I saw he’d brought the wheelchair my parents had rented to the back door of my apartment.

“I feel helpless,” I complained.

“Just remember what the doctor said. I don’t want to hear that you tried to stretch or exercise yet. If I have to, I’ll have your mom go explain things to everyone at school,” Dad warned.

Talk about not playing fair. If I could have gotten out of my wheelchair on my own, I would’ve beaten him with my crutches. Duke was done with his business before we made it to the back door. Precious seemed irritated that her buddy ignored her and instead came with me into the house. Duke bolted upstairs to check on his charges and Peggy. I smiled when I saw Chuck had decided to brave breakfast with us so he could get a home-cooked meal.

Little David needed some daddy time, so I held him in my lap and fed him. Peggy had mixed yogurt and apricots into his cereal. He seemed to like it, so I had her make me a bowl and found it was okay. It would do for a change of pace, but I didn’t want it every day.

I caught up with Peggy. She said that she’d placed third in her race on Saturday, and her coach told her that she would receive a full scholarship in the spring.

“Can you watch the boys tonight?” she asked.

I almost just said I would, and then saw my mom look away so I couldn’t see the expression on her face. The other issue was, how exactly did she think I could watch them in my condition?

“I don’t know. What are you doing?” I asked.

“I have a date,” Peggy said, daring me to act protectively.

The Alpha Male in me was suddenly on full alert. I hadn’t realized that I thought of her as mine. I suspect I would have had the same reaction if Pam told me she was dating. If I could allow Tami to date others, I could do the same for Peggy. I brought my Alpha Male response to heel.

“Have you let Mom meet this guy?” I asked.

Allowing her to date didn’t mean I couldn’t torment her about it. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch.

“I’m sure your mom doesn’t care who I date,” Peggy scoffed.

“Give Chuck his information,” I said.

“Why?” Peggy said, starting to get irritated.

“In case something comes up, and we can’t get ahold of you,” Mom said to save me from having to explain that I planned to have this bozo checked out.

If he was a dog-hater, I couldn’t risk him being around the house.

I was surprised when Peggy gave Chuck her date’s info. Mom said that if Peggy put the boys to bed before she left, Mom would watch them. I gave my boys kisses, and Chuck and I went to pick up Brook. She’d warned her mom that we would be honking today since I couldn’t yet walk well. Chuck and I looked at each other when Ava came out the back door.

“This is on Brook,” I said. “She was supposed to tell her.”

“If she starts hitting you, I’ll break it up,” Chuck offered.

At least today he had remembered what his job was. Half the time he was useless.

Ava got in the back seat with me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I told her all that had happened and that I was okay. Brook came out, and Ava told me to get better and then went back to the house.

“What did my mom want?”

“She was just checking on me. I think she’s starting to like me.”

Chuck snorted at my bold statement; I chose to ignore him. I caught Brook up on the press conference and police interview. I could tell she’d already talked to Halle and was just confirming things.

We drove through at the pharmacy, picked up my prescription, and then made it to school in time for first period.

During PE, Mr. Hasting, our head trainer, made an appearance so that he could check my condition. I told him what my doctors in LA said, and he agreed. He wanted me to have an ice bath during PE and then one during practice. The whole right side of my body was black and blue. The swelling in my elbow had continued to go down, much to my relief. That was the injury that still scared me.

This time I didn’t fall for giving up my pain meds. I think my exact words were: “You can have my pain pills when you can pry them from my cold, dead hands.” Jill poked me in the ribs, and my hand fell open.

Wolf found me when I was finished with the trainers.

“You missed it last night.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Coach Hope announced that you’d been hurt in a car accident and might not play the rest of the year. Poor Trent didn’t know if he should be happy or afraid. Then he decided that it was an elaborate joke. We had to show him the video of the car accident,” Wolf shared.

“What did he do when you did that?”

“It gets better. Coach Hope reminded him that we’re playing Beverly this week, probably the best defense we’ll face ... and ... it’s Homecoming. I think he had a nervous breakdown. It didn’t help when Coach Mason went old-school and called him a pussy.

“Coach Hope had to take him to his office to calm him down. We are so screwed this week. Your brother might have to play quarterback if Trent can’t pull it together. During the summer, Trent was sure he would beat you out, and then reality set in. I think he figured out that he’ll probably throw ten interceptions this week,” Wolf said.

“I doubt they’ll let him pass unless they have to,” I predicted.

“If we’re going to have any chance, you need to talk to him and somehow get him fixed.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because you’re the one who broke him.”

I said something inappropriate, but Wolf stuck to his guns.

Wolf was a smart guy. The team needed me to help my backup get his act together.

Dare decided it was his job to push me around in my wheelchair. I was impressed when he stood up to Brook, who told him it was her prerogative as my girlfriend. He looked at his shoes the whole time, but he didn’t budge.

“Dare’s my guy for this job,” I announced, and for once he looked up and smiled.

We were making progress. Next, he would be as bad as Cassidy and start to talk my ears off.

For football practice, I went straight to the training room to get my ice-bath treatment. I’ll be honest, I felt the old depression start to set in that I’d experienced in middle school and when I’d gone to my uncle’s farm for the summer. For someone who thought he was indestructible, this was an unwanted wake-up call. If my arm and elbow hadn’t hurt so much, I might have been okay. My mind kept going in circles, wondering if I would ever throw a football again, or even better, whether I would be able to use my arm to dress myself.

I knew what the doctor had said, it was just soft tissue that was injured, but having my arm in a sling scared me. Scared me enough that I’d resisted the urge to begin rehab like I was used to doing. I’d been told that I needed to let everything heal before I started to stretch and work out. If I doubted my doctor, all I had to do was move too quickly or breathe deeply.

I stayed in the ice bath for as long as I could stand it. I had to have Becky and Jill help me to get out. They wrapped my ribs and around my hips. I was a happy boy when they gave me a pain pill.

“Tell me it gets better,” I almost begged.

“Hip pointers aren’t anything to laugh about. That’s why they give you pads,” Jill explained.

Football pants had pads on the sides, and one in the back to protect the tailbone. I also wore lacrosse shorts to safeguard me further when I played. At some point, someone had gotten a hip pointer and invented football pants to protect against it. I understood completely and silently thanked whoever it was for his creation.

Dare had waited for me and wheeled me out to the practice field. Coach Mason was running passing drills, and my backup, Trent Buchannan, promptly overthrew Wolf. That was hard to do, so I wasn’t surprised when Coach Mason sent Trent to me to be coached-up. He’d done something similar at my Elite Quarterback camp in Houston. Coach Mason would continue to run the drill while the wayward player would go talk to another coach one-on-one.