Keeping Score by Regina Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

us?”
    “Rick.” Troy’s warning tone reminded Warrick not to push the media too far. Fair or not, they always had the final word.
    Kirk’s thin face flushed to the roots of his blond hair. His blue eyes narrowed. “I’ve interviewed the key players of all thirty NBA teams. Your chemistry is what makes the difference for the Monarchs.”
    Warrick leaned back in his seat. “We don’t have individual stars. We play as a team. That’s what we’re going to have to do to earn the title.” He couldn’t have the media singling him out continually. It was causing dissension in the team.
    Kirk arched a brow. “Well, since you aren’t interested in individual accolades, I guess it doesn’t bother you that you were passed over for Defensive Player of the Year or that your name hasn’t been mentioned for Most Valuable Player. You’re probably used to being passed over for recognition in the league.”
    Warrick kept his features controlled. He pushed back from the table and stood. “I have a game to prepare for.”
    He didn’t look back. He didn’t say another word. Warrick crossed to the door and left the room.
    He couldn’t have cared less for individual accolades. What he was after was his team’s support. Twelve years ago, the franchise had drafted him to bring home the NBA Championship trophy. With each passing season, the fans and his teammates had lost faith in him. And he’d failed to impress his head coaches.
    Yes, the reporter had struck a nerve. Why would he expect the league to present him with honors and awards when the Monarchs and their fans didn’t believe in him?
     
     
    Marilyn jerked awake at the telephone’s sudden shrieks. Who was calling so early on a Sunday morning? Was Warrick all right? Was it one of her patients? What time was it?
    She grabbed the receiver for answers. “Hello?”
    “Did you see today’s paper?” Celeste Devry’s tone was disapproving. That wasn’t unusual.
    Marilyn wilted with relief, then tried to focus on her mother’s question. “I haven’t seen the day.”
    “Don’t be smart, Marilyn.”
    The green digits of the radio alarm clock beside the phone read three-twelve. On Sunday morning. Was her mother kidding?
    Marilyn closed her eyes. “What are you doing up? It’s after midnight over there.”
    She refused to believe her mother was already dressed with her hair perfectly arranged and cosmetics flawlessly applied. At this hour, that was too much to expect, even for Celeste Devry.
    “Have you seen the article in the New York Horn about Rick?”
    Marilyn opened her eyes and frowned toward the ceiling in the dark. “You live in San Francisco. How did you get a copy of the New York Horn ?” Why would she get a copy of the New York Horn?
    “We don’t get that paper. We read the article online. It was posted at three A.M. THAT’S MIDNIGHT OUR TIME.”
    “That’s three A.M. MY TIME, MOTHER.”
    “After the media reported that whole bar-hopping business with Rick last month, your father and I got one of those Google message alert services for Rick’s name.”
    Her mother had to be kidding.
    Marilyn closed her eyes again. “I’m not interested in what the media have to say about my husband.”
    The article couldn’t be that bad. The Monarchs had won the game in Miami last night. Warrick was coming home this morning. Her heart leapt with anticipation—then stilled. He was returning to Brooklyn, but not to their home. She’d moved back in and he’d offered to make other living arrangements. Where would he stay?
    “You should be concerned.” Celeste’s tone carried a bite. “They’re blaming you for Rick’s poor performance Thursday night.”
    Marilyn’s eyes shot open. She sat up in her king-sized bed. “How am I at fault?”
    “They’re saying your separation is a distraction for him.” Celeste made a tutting sound. “This is outrageous, Marilyn. The media are speculating on your marriage. This can’t be allowed to continue.”
    Marilyn