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“True enough. But doesn’t tell us why and how O’Malley comes into play.”
“Anyone following me on social media would be aware of O’Malley’s disdain; that he thought my image was a fraud and wanted to expose it. Lisa could have reached out to him after the interview aired. Through DM, which wouldn’t show up in their phone records. With a mutual interest in taking me down, they could have easily planned it and covered their tracks. O’Malley would know how to do that. He’s done it before.”
“We’ll keep following that angle. But what strikes me as off is that O’Malley stopped blogging about you months ago. He didn’t even retweet the video or comment. Seems out of character for someone who used to be all over you to just ignore potential dirt.”
“He’s not ignoring it,” I say in frustration, wanting action over discussion. “He’s found a different way to come at me and stay beneath the radar.”
“Could be. But we should also consider that Ms. Manning acted alone.”
I reject that notion, shaking my head. “Don’t see it. Lisa isn’t savvy enough to pull off something like this on her own.”
“With respect, sir, I wouldn’t underestimate a woman scorned.”
“Fuck!” I exhale harshly and push to my feet. Pissed at the lack of info. Pissed at myself for contributing to this mess. After I got sober and joined the NBA, I’d been discreet and careful. No random hook-ups or groupies. I chose women that were high profile and had their own reputations to safeguard. I never wanted to embarrass my family or myself. The fact that I’d brought this scandal on Dee fucking kills me. I will take that blame, own it. But I will not let anyone else responsible get away with hurting my wife.
“I want answers, Stiles.” And I’m past the point of sitting back and waiting for them.
Less than fifteen minutes later,I wade through the flash of cameras and shouts of debasing questions. “Do you miss your old lifestyle, is that why you cheated?” “Are you still involved with the woman in the video?” “Are there others?” “Is your wife standing by you for the money or because she lacks the confidence to leave?”
Profane retorts scald my tongue. I hold them back and climb into the passenger’s seat with a slam of the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Stiles puts his foot on the gas and speeds off before we’re followed, taking several detours to make sure of it. He’d suggested his SUV to avoid my car being seen at O’Malley’s.
When we reach the south end of the city, I’m operating at a low simmer. Rows of linked townhomes line both sides of the street. Stiles rolls into an empty space and cuts the engine.
“That’s his place on the right, 907.” He directs my attention to a narrow, two-story brick house. “Max reported that O’Malley hasn’t left yet. His routine has been to pop out to get lunch around 11:45. If that holds, he should surface in fifteen minutes.”
“Got it.” I pull out my phone and call Dee’s mobile. She knows I only ever use that number while she’s at work when it’s important.
“Hi.” Her apprehension ripples over the line. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Got a few minutes?”
“For you, of course.”
I take a moment to let the warmth of her voice calm me. Then I catch her up on my suspicions and add: “I’m with Stiles, sitting outside of O’Malley’s house.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“Planning just a casual bump-in on the sidewalk.”
“In other words, an ambush.”
“I want to catch him unexpectedly. See his reaction.”
“O’Malley is a sleaze,” Dee says, “but it doesn’t add up for me that he colluded with Lisa, and covered his tracks. It wouldn’t be worth it to him without taking the credit.”
“He wouldn’t want credit for another fake story. He could just want to fuck with me. That’s why I need to see his response. I’ll know then what I’m dealing with and so will he.”
“Mick.” Her tone conveys a wealth of warning.
“I know you don’t like it, Dee. I didn’t think you would. But I listened to you about staying away from Lisa. You were right about that. I’m right about this. I can feel it in my gut. It’s something I have to do. And rather than tell you about it afterward, I’m telling you now.”
“Playing that card, are you?”
“What card?” I feign innocence.
“The I’m-telling-you-upfront-so-you-can’t-be-mad-even-if-you-don’t-agree-with-what-I’m-doing card.”
