Ginger spotted Pavel’s mop of dirty blond hair the moment she and Bo entered The Farm of Beverly Hills. The restaurant’s warm and charming atmosphere was the height of irony—considering she expected the exact opposite in attitude from the lowlife loan shark.
He had his head buried in a book, so although he faced in their direction, he didn’t notice them. Her stomach fluttering with nerves, she contemplated turning around and leaving. She didn’t have news that Pavel would want to hear, and she could only imagine how he was going to react.
Ginger wrapped her fingers around Bo’s thick wrist. “Bo, I don’t know—”
Pavel looked up then. Seeing them, he smiled.
Shit. Too late.
He stood, adjusted his suit jacket, then beckoned Ginger and Bo over like he was a longtime friend looking forward to an early dinner. In reality, he was the loan shark who would surely tell them that if they didn’t pay up the money they owed, they would pay the consequences.
Very dire ones.
Her hand gripping Bo’s wrist, Ginger headed toward Pavel’s table. Arms outstretched, Pavel walked toward her and wrapped her in a hug while kissing both of her cheeks. When he finished with Ginger, he leaned toward Bo, but Bo stepped back and offered the man his hand, not his face.
Pavel smiled. “Sit, sit.”
Like a lamb to the slaughter, Ginger thought as she sat down.
“Good news, I’m hoping,” Pavel said, getting right down to business.
“I’m well, Pavel. Thanks for asking.”
Pavel chuckled softly. “Oh, Ginger. You are so funny. But yes, I am happy to see that you are okay. If you are not okay, how do I get my money?”
He laughed again, and Ginger joined in, her own laughter sounding completely sarcastic. All the laughter faded and died when the waiter appeared moments later.
“Ah, let us talk business after we eat. Order whatever you like. Chicken, steak. It’s on me.”
“You go ahead,” Ginger told him. She glanced at Bo. He was perusing the menu. He didn’t look like he had a care in the world.
That pissed her off. He could at least say
something
to Pavel, try to make nice with the guy so he wouldn’t blow their heads off in the alley behind the restaurant.
“I will have the Farm Steak, medium rare,” Pavel said. “No garlic mashed potatoes. No broccolini. Nothing with starch. In fact, make it two steaks on one very big plate. That is it. Okay? No, wait. Give me white wine. A nice Chardonnay. This one,” he said, pointing to the wine list. “From France. Let us have a bottle.”
The waiter nodded, jotting down the items. Then he turned
to Ginger and Bo. Bo said, “I’ll have a steak, too. But I want mine with the potatoes.”
Ginger kicked Bo beneath the table. The last thing she wanted to do was sit through a meal with Pavel. It would feel too much like her last supper. She wanted to explain that she needed an extension on the time to repay the loan and get out of there. She had already made him wait a year, paying him instead with sex on demand, but Pavel wouldn’t be satisfied with her body forever.
“Watch your leg, babe,” Bo said, clearly not getting the point.
Ginger resigned herself to her fate. “I’ll have the Classic Caesar Salad with chicken. No, wait. Make that the Ginger Poached Salmon Salad,” she decided. It was the more expensive option. If Pavel was going to kill her, she at least shouldn’t be a cheap date. “And sparkling water.”
When the waiter left, Ginger asked Pavel, “Two steaks?”
“Ah, yes.” He lifted a book off the chair beside him and showed it to them. “The Atkins diet is very good. All the protein you want. All the fat you want. But no carbohydrates. Bo, I think you should not eat the potatoes.”
Bo shrugged nonchalantly.
Ginger forced a smile. “Your latest diet?” What was it with the man and his diets, anyway? He looked in amazing shape. There was no doubt he’d be able to chase her down and bludgeon her to death.
“Yes. So far, I think is good. But, I think I will be bad and have a Farm Brownie Sundae.”
Ginger nodded as her gaze wandered around the elegant restaurant. If this was going to be her last supper, at least it was a decent place.
Perhaps she
should
have a steak.
“Ah, I am excited,” Pavel said. “I saw Dr. Love walk by this table. I waved at her, and she waved back.”
“Dr. Love is here?” Ginger asked. God, she hoped the woman didn’t see her here with Bo. Not that it really mattered. The doctor surely wouldn’t remember her. It’s not like she’d been an actual patient.
“Maybe she is gone now. I don’t know. But she is sexy black woman. Like you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Pavel folded his hands on the table. “I cannot wait anymore,” he said, as though he was a child anxious to learn about a surprise. “Tell me—you have the money?”
Ginger glanced at Bo. He gave her a blank look, letting her know he didn’t know what to say.
It didn’t matter. She was the one best to deal with Pavel, anyway. He appreciated her feminine charms, and she had used them to her advantage several times already.
“Pavel—”
“No no no. I do not like the way you say that. I think you are going to say that you do not have my money.”
God help her. Ginger kept a half grin plastered on her face. “It’s just going to take a bit longer than I expected.”
“But this is what you say every time.”
“Pavel, I know you’ve been so patient. Believe me, I wish I had better news. I had to change lawyers. The new one is much better, and he’s working to get the divorce settled much more quickly—”
Ginger stopped talking when she noticed that the bread roll in Pavel’s hand had been crushed to smithereens. He hadn’t been eating it, just playing with it like it was a test of his resistance to carbohydrates.
“I do not like…how you say—being played like a fool.”
“Played for a fool,” Bo supplied.
Ginger cut her eyes at Bo. She loved him, but God only knew why sometimes.
“Yes. Played for a fool.”
“Pavel, you know that’s not the case. If we were playing you for a fool, we’d already be long gone by now.” She patted his hands. They were cold. “We wouldn’t come out to have a very nice dinner with you.”
He eyed her, as if trying to determine whether he could believe her. “Maybe.”
“Come on. You know ours is a special situation. Freddie Monahue scammed us. We would have had the money to you ages ago—oodles of it—if the dot-com company we’d invested in had been legit. We got ripped off, and that’s the only reason we haven’t been able to pay you back. I feel real bad about that, you know I do. That’s why I agreed to double your money for the inconvenience.”
Pavel nodded. Ginger leaned back in her chair and relaxed. Thank God he wasn’t going to press the issue.
“I think it is fair, for my
inconvenience
, I will need more than one million dollars. I will need another two hundred thousand.”
“Two hundred thousand!” Ginger shrieked, then immediately hunched into her shoulders when she saw half the patrons staring at her.
“Yes. It is fair.”
“It’s highway robbery.”
Pavel narrowed his eyes. “What is this? Highway what?”
“It’s an expression,” Bo replied. “You know, like ‘played for a fool.’ But listen, I think we’ve been more than fair. You only gave us half a mil to start with.”
“Of my very hard-earned money.”
Hard-earned money, her ass, Ginger thought. But she said, “The point Bo is trying to make is that we were being more than fair in offering to double your investment. Nothing’s changed. The money’s still coming, just as soon as the lawyers—”
“One point two million. Not a penny less.”
“Christ,” Ginger muttered.
“Such bad language.” Pavel reached across the table and patted her cheek. “But I like you. You know, in my country, you are ebony beauty.”
“Yes, I know.” He’d told her that a million times. For all the good it had done her. He was more determined than anyone she’d ever met. He had even tracked her down to Los Angeles after she’d fled her home in New Orleans, hoping to escape him.
“But I still need my money. Nothing personal. You understand.”
She did. She had sold her soul to a devil, and now she had to pay the price. There was no getting around it. The longer she took to pay him, the more outrageous the fee would be.
Her cell phone rang, thank the Lord. “Excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course,” Pavel said.
Ginger was relieved as she got up from the table and walked toward the front door. She answered the phone when she was out of earshot. “Hello?”
“Yo, Ginger.”
Oh, God. She should have let it ring. “Sha-Shana.”
“I know. You’ve been too busy to get back to me. So just tell me—do you have the rest of my money?”
Hell, she should have read her horoscope before leaving the
house today. Maybe it would have told her to avoid all business associates. She replied, “It’s gonna take a bit longer than I thought it would.”
“Wow. How’d I know you would say that? Thanks for nothing. I think I’ll go to the hotel where your husband is staying—”
“No!” Ginger lowered her voice when she noticed the maitre d’s look of reproof. “Sha-Shana, how long have you known me? Ever since I left Kansas City and moved to New Orleans. You damn well know I’m good for the money. As soon as I get it, which I’m working like hell to do. But I’m not about to settle for a lousy million.”
“A million?”
“You know all about the loan shark. He’s supposed to get a million, so I need more than that. But don’t worry. I think Anthony’s gonna bend soon.”
“Girl, if you’re getting that kind of cash, then I can’t settle for fifty grand.”
“Come on, Sha-Shana!” Ginger headed for the restaurant door and stepped outside. “Five minutes of work. Fifty grand is plenty.”
“A hundred, or I’ll go to your husband.”
Fuck.
“Fine,” Ginger lied. She had no intention of giving this bitch more than what they’d agreed upon.
If
she gave her anything more than the five grand she’d already paid her as a down payment. “But I really do have to go. I’m in a meeting with that loan shark right now.”
“You better not be trying to screw me.”
“Of course not. But I have to play this smart. Otherwise I’ll never end up with the money.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
“Don’t worry,” Ginger told her. “Everything’s on track. I’m sure it won’t take more than a few weeks to finalize the deal. Then we’ll both be on Easy Street, just like we planned.”
Ginger ended the call and turned her cell phone off. With the way her luck was going, Dr. Love would probably try to extort her, too.
Back at the table, she slumped into her chair. Pavel was devouring one of his two steaks with all the finesse of a pig at a trough. She had to admit, all that red meat smelled divine. She wished she had ordered one.
Pavel paused to ask, “Your lawyer?”
“No.”
“Ah, too bad. Go ahead. Eat.”
Was that a threat?
Ginger looked at her salad. She didn’t feel like eating. Her stomach was in knots.
Because she knew that if she didn’t come up with the money, and soon, she was as good as dead.
Anthony wasn’t in the mood to chat with anyone tonight, which is why he’d put a Do Not Disturb instruction on his hotel phone. So when it rang shortly after eleven
P.M
., he eyed it with suspicion.
Then he quickly dashed across the suite and snatched up the living room phone. He’d had one exception to the Do Not Disturb, and that was to put through any calls from Ginger Beals.
Anthony brought the phone to his ear and tentatively said, “Hello?”
“Hi, Tony.”
That wasn’t Ginger. It was…“LaTonya?”
“Yeah. Let me pass you on to my brother.”
Anthony wondered why Kahari was calling. And why he’d put his sister up to saying she was Ginger.
“Hey, T.”
“Kahari, what’s up?”
“Man, you better turn on the TV.”
“Why?”
“Just flick it on. Any of the news stations. They’re talking about Ginger.”
Anthony reached for the remote and turned the television on. He channel-surfed until he saw a picture of Ginger on the Channel 2 news.
“…don’t know what has happened to her. Friends say they’re worried she may be the victim of foul play.”
A big, husky guy Anthony had never seen before filled the screen as he spoke into the reporter’s microphone. “The last thing she told me was that she was going to meet her husband. I warned her not to, because he’s so out of control, but she went anyway. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Aw,
shit
!” Anthony exclaimed.
“Where are you?” Kahari asked.
“I’m at the hotel, dawg. You just called me.”
“My bad. What I meant is, where were you earlier?”
“Here. I’ve been here most of the day. I did go out around ten this morning for a run. Drove to Cal State. Got a Big Mac at the drive-through.” The reason for Kahari’s question suddenly dawned on Anthony. “Oh, shit. Some guy just said Ginger was supposed to be meeting me today?”
“And she hasn’t been seen since.”
“But I haven’t seen Ginger. The last time I saw her was—Oh, man.”
“The time you showed up at your place and she called the cops.”
“No, when we met at my lawyer’s office. And she acted like she was afraid I’d beat the crap out of her.” And since that time, Ginger had told any tabloid or talk show hack who would listen that he had harassed her, threatened her. “I’ve been staying away from her. So why is this guy on TV saying I was supposed to meet with her earlier?”
“Did she call you at all? Try to make plans to hook up?”
“No. I haven’t even heard a peep from her. She made it
clear that the only time she wants to hear from me is when I’m ready to pay her five million dollars.”
“Maybe it’s nothing to worry about,” Kahari suggested. “Her friends could simply be worried about her.”
“Ginger isn’t in touch for a day and they’re worried?” This didn’t sit right with Anthony. “Besides, that guy specifically said that I was supposed to be meeting with Ginger earlier. And that’s a lie. Unless Ginger planned on calling me but didn’t get around to it.”
“That could be it. Hey, don’t worry about it. She’s probably off at some spa somewhere.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Because he couldn’t imagine his current situation getting any worse than it already was.
But it did get worse.
By the next morning, Anthony had eighteen cell phone messages. His lawyer and his agent had called, as well as many of his friends. They were all concerned about Ginger’s disappearance.
“We’re not treating this as a crime…yet,” a police officer told a reporter as Anthony had his eyes glued to the television. “But we are concerned about Mrs. Beals and are paying close attention to this case.”
Anthony had tried Ginger’s phone at least two dozen times since last night’s newscast. Two dozen times it had rung until her voice mail picked up. He had even called from his hotel room and the hotel lobby so Ginger wouldn’t recognize the phone number. It hadn’t changed the outcome. She still hadn’t answered.
Anthony couldn’t help wondering if something bad
had
happened to her.
He flicked off the television and finally returned his
lawyer’s calls. When Keith answered, Anthony said, “Keith, it’s me.”
“Anthony. Thank God. Do you have any idea where Ginger is?”
“No. Tell me this isn’t really true. Tell me she’s not missing. Tell me the police are overreacting.”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you that I’ve already heard from them. They want to talk to you, ask you some questions.”
Panic made his stomach twist in knots. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“According to Ginger’s friends, she was heading to see you the last time anyone saw her.”
“That’s a lie. Ginger and I have not talked since the time I saw her in your office.”
“You haven’t gone by the house?”
“No! Well, not since the restraining order.” Even as Anthony spoke, he knew how bad that sounded. The cops would think him guilty even before they talked to him. “Hell, what am I gonna do?”
“Look, don’t panic. I’m sure you have an alibi for yesterday. So when you talk to the police, you’ll easily be able to clear yourself off any potential list of suspects.”
“Suspects? You think it’s that serious?”
“The spouse always has to be ruled out as suspect. It’s standard procedure, especially since you two are separated.”
“Yo, Keith. Give it to me straight—are you trying to tell me that the cops think I actually hurt my wife?”
“I suggest you don’t talk about Ginger being hurt when they question you. Just say you have no idea where she is.”
“But I don’t!”
“I know. You don’t have to convince me.”
Anthony had to wonder.
“Listen, the detective I spoke to is named Hernandez. He’d like us to schedule an appointment as soon as possible. So, when can we head to the police station?”
Visions of OJ swam through Anthony’s mind. Hell, no. He couldn’t deal with this. To Keith, he said, “I’ll, um, call you back.”
“When?”
“There’s something I’ve gotta do.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Anthony—”
Anthony hung up. Then he rested both hands on the end table and breathed in and out in rapid succession.
Ginger was
not
missing. People were overreacting, but God only knew why.
It was like Kahari had said. Ginger was probably off at some spa somewhere, taking some time to think.
An image of a quivering Ginger in his lawyer’s office zapped into his mind. He remembered her words on Depraved Dave’s show.
He had to find her, talk to her.
But he needed help. Someone to approach Ginger once he found her so she didn’t freak out.
He needed Dr. Love. She hadn’t exactly agreed to talk to Ginger on his behalf, but she hadn’t disagreed, either. It didn’t matter. She was the woman for the job.
And the job needed to be done now. If Ginger was lying low, only Dr. Love could get him out of this mess.
He had to see the good doctor, and the sooner the better.
Anthony scooped up his car keys and fled the hotel room.