Lady Balls by Crowe Liz

Author:Crowe, Liz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 2019-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

J.D. glared at his computer, sick in his soul at what he was reading, even though he’d signed off on the whole report not twenty-four hours prior. He had to let LeeAnn run with the story. He knew that. Once he’d voiced his one protest, he’d accepted that the truth had to come out. The concept that the man he once considered a friend had done such horrific things to young women—who could have done it to Kayla, who had done it to Marlo, who could be around when his own daughter went to a trainer for therapy—made him so furious he could barely see straight. He was glad they were doing this. But that didn’t make the oncoming conversation any easier.

“J.D.” Matilde’s voice came from the tiny, state-of-the-art speaker on his desktop.

“What?” he barked. He knew hiding from it wasn’t going to work. He had to face this. Don Harris had been his friend, yes. But he owed it to LeeAnn and her staff, not to mention all the women who’d been abused, to stand behind this as firmly as any head of a major media outlet.

“I have Mr. Harris on line one.”

“Great, okay. Thanks. I’ll take it. Just give me a minute.”

“Okay. He sounds pretty unhappy.”

“I’ll bet he does.” The thought of having to listen to a bunch of excuses for the horrible things he’d done to young, vulnerable college students made him want to put his fist through the wall. But he’d agreed to talk to him. Because that was the sort of man he was.

“For what it’s worth, you’ve done an amazing thing, exposing him and his terrible behavior.”

J.D. smiled at the speaker. Matilde was turning out to be the best personal assistant he’d ever had. She was soft-spoken but as efficient as a room full of CPAs. She’d even begun to anticipate things before he knew he wanted them. “Thanks, Matilde. I appreciate that.” He picked up the desk phone handset and stared at the blinking red hold light. “Guess I should get this over with, huh?”

“Good luck,” she said through the speaker. “Mr. Baxter will speak to you now,” she said into her end of the phone line.

“Hello, Don.”

“Don’t you hello me, you pussy-whipped son-of-a-bitch.”

“It’s nice to hear from you, too.”

“Go to hell, you sorry excuse for a man.”

“Listen, Don, I said I’d talk to you, and I guess you could say we’ve talked. So I’ll let you go.”

“Wait, wait, hold on. Let me finish.”

J.D. stayed silent, afraid that if he spoke he’d make it worse. His goal for the next few minutes was to get through this, hang up, and be done with Don Harris forever. They’d moved this documentary ahead of Lady Balls, a decision he supported. It had aired the night before, with plenty of on-line buildup. Their phone lines, social media accounts, and website were already blowing up with responses. His data-crunching department collected it all and gave him hourly updates as to the opinion split. So far it had stayed about sixty-five to thirty-five to the positive.

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