Keeping Score

by Regina Hart

  Warrick tucked his water bottle under his arm and accepted the newspaper. His mind was clouded with confusion. What did Troy find so objectionable about the Horn running an article about Warrick and Marilyn’s reconciliation? Although, he and Marilyn had never actually separated.

  He flipped the paper to the page Troy had folded open. Warrick’s attention was drawn to the photo that overshadowed the story.

  His sports bottle fell to the sidewalk. His eyes stretched wide. “Son of a—”

  10

  Marilyn’s nude back was framed in the color photo dominating the front page of the New York Horn’s gossip section. Her arms were raised toward his shoulders, baring the curve of her left breast. His hands were spread on her hips.

  Warrick saw red. He was angrier than he’d ever been in his entire life. His fists crushed the page. “How in the hell did they get this photo?”

  A shadowy memory taunted the edge of his mind. A movement outside his window. Jesus! He’d been right.

  “It’s obvious they took the photo around venetian blinds.” Troy bent to rescue the sports bottle that had fallen from Warrick’s numbed grip.

  The media executive’s words were muffled beneath the blood roaring in Warrick’s ears. Warrick spun on his heel and started toward his car.

  Troy’s hand caught his arm, pulling him to a stop. “Where are you going?”

  Warrick turned to glare at the other man. “I’m going to find that photographer and bury his camera so far up his—”

  “Jackie’s already spoken to the newspaper’s publisher.” Troy’s grip tightened on Warrick’s forearm. “She’s threatened him with legal action if he doesn’t immediately give us all of the camera discs and take down the photos posted to their site—”

  “There are photos of us on the Internet?” Warrick’s question was just short of a roar.

  “She got them to agree not to print or post any of the photos ever again.”

  Warrick shook off Troy’s hold and continued toward his car. “I’m going to sue that rag into bankruptcy.” His voice was as rough as tree bark and colder than ice.

  “Rick, I know you’re angry. I would be, too. But you’ve got to calm down.” Troy’s voice came from behind him.

  Warrick deactivated his car alarm and opened his trunk. “I have to call Mary.”

  Troy tossed the water bottle into the car. “Shouldn’t you calm down first?”

  He pulled his cell phone from his gym bag and pressed the speed dial code for his wife’s cellular number. After several rings, a recording came on. “Dammit. I’m being sent to her voice mail. Mary, call me as soon as you get this message, okay? I love you.”

  He had similar results when he called Marilyn’s work phone number. Warrick disconnected the call after leaving a message on that machine as well. He dropped the cell phone in the front pocket of his running shorts, then slammed the trunk closed. The violent act didn’t ease his temper.

  “I can’t reach her.” Warrick’s muscles vibrated with tension.

  Troy laid his hand on Warrick’s shoulder. “I understand you’re angry. But don’t do anything that will keep this story alive.”

  With his pulse pounding in his ears, Warrick could barely hear the other man’s words. His car alarm beeped as it reset.

  He looked at Troy, but he couldn’t focus on his friend’s face. Warrick’s vision was too blurred by anger. “What gives them the right to violate my privacy, my wife’s privacy? We were in our home with the blinds closed.”

  Troy let his hand drop from Warrick’s shoulder. “I know this is hard, but think about Mary.”

  He was thinking about Marilyn. Without responding, Warrick spun on his heel and circled his car.

  Troy followed him. “Now where are you going?”

  Warrick deactivated the alarm a second time. “To get the photos.”

  “The discs are on their way.” Troy’s arm stretched from behind Warrick. His hand pressed against the driver’s side door to keep it shut. “So what are you really going to do?”

  Warrick looked at Troy from over his shoulder. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  Regret flashed in Troy’s eyes. “I’m your friend. Yes, it does.”

  Warrick crumbled the Horn in his fist. His car alarm reset again.

  He turned to clench the paper in front of Troy’s face. His throat worked as he pushed the words past his rage. “Imagine this was Andrea. What would you do?” He had the satisfaction of seeing Troy’s face darken and his jaw clench.

  “I’d want to make the photographer eat his camera. I’d ...” Troy stopped himself. “Rick, tearing apart the Horn’s offices wouldn’t help Andy or Mary. Jackie’s taking care of this.”

  “I’m Mary’s husband. This situation is my responsibility.” And his fault. He was the reason a photograph of his wife in the nude was plastered to the front page of a newspaper’s gossip section.

  “Your way isn’t constructive.” Troy spoke carefully.

  The cool breeze coming off the marina didn’t ease Warrick’s temper or his guilt. He tightened his grip on the paper. “Do you know what this will do to her? To her career?”

  “I know what you’re saying. But are you going to the Horn for Mary or for yourself ?”

  That pulled him up short. Warrick jabbed a finger toward Troy. “I do the press conferences and one-on-one interviews. I stepped aside as captain when Barron arrived. I sat on the bench when Jamal was drafted. All for the team. But I will not sit quietly while my wife is disrespected, not even for the team.”

  Troy’s eyes dimmed with disappointment. “And I wouldn’t ask you to. This isn’t about the team, brother. This is about Mary. What will you do when you get to the Horn?”

  “I told you not to worry about it.”

  “Are you going to give the photographer a beat down? Take a swing at the editor-in-chief ?”

  Warrick held his silence. He would neither confirm nor deny the other man’s suspicions.

  Troy didn’t wait for a response. “You know the Horn would jump at the opportunity to charge you with assault. Think of the number of papers they would sell with that headline and those photos. But what would happen to Mary?” Troy nodded toward the paper crushed in Warrick’s fist. “As her husband’s reputation was being shredded in the press, that photo would be on rotation on television stations across the country. Networks would show it every time they talked about your assault trial.”

  “This is bullshit.” Warrick stepped around Troy, needing some space. But he couldn’t run away from the truth of the other man’s words. He stared across the parking lot, the events Troy described playing out in his mind.

  The media executive continued. “I agree. If we didn’t have to worry about the repercussions, I’d go with you. But in the long run, we’d only cause our ladies more problems.”

  Warrick pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I need to talk with Mary.”

  He walked away from Troy and toward the marina. Warrick hit the speed dial for her cell phone number and waited. A strong breeze pulled against his jersey. Overhead, trees bent but didn’t break in the wind. Sunlight glared at the blue gray water. Marilyn’s phone rang several times before tossing Warrick into her voice mail.

  Why wasn’t she answering?

  Marilyn stared at the newspaper spread across the top of the desk. A six-by-nine-inch color photo exposed her during one of the most intimate moments of her life. Her skin burned with outrage and agony. The ringing in her ears was her cell phone, screaming for her attention. The buzzing in her head was her blood, rushing through her veins. Any moment now, her alarm clock would go off and she’d wake from this nightmare. At least, she prayed that’s what would happen next.

  “I’m waiting for an explanation.” Arthur loomed just behind her in the break room.

  Her cell phone went silent, but the buzzing in her head grew louder.

  “I don’t have one.” Marilyn couldn’t look at him. Her head spun. Her vision went in and out o
f focus. Was she going to throw up?

  Oh, my God. She was on the edge of hysteria. Her muscles shook. She clenched her fists to make them stop.

  Arthur’s tone hardened. “The board of trustees will want an explanation.”

  Her desk phone rang.

  Warrick! It must be him. Who else would call now and so persistently? She was desperate to talk with him. The team’s loss to the Waves last night ... The photo in the newspaper this morning ... How much more could he handle? But Arthur was obviously determined to manipulate this incident. Marilyn was fighting for her career. As much as she wanted to speak with her husband, she’d have to call Warrick back after she’d dealt with Arthur.

  Marilyn took a deep breath and forced herself to meet Arthur’s gaze. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t take the photo myself. I didn’t ask for it to be taken and I didn’t pose for it, either.”

  Why? When? How ... ?

  Oh, my God. Warrick had been right. Someone must have been hiding outside their kitchen window a few weeks ago, while she and Warrick were ...

  Marilyn squeezed her eyes shut. She was going to be sick. She inhaled long, deep breaths, pulling in the hospital’s familiar scents—bleach and iodine.

  Arthur folded his hands in front of him. “The hospital cannot condone this behavior.”

  Marilyn’s pulse drummed in her ears. She knew what he meant, but she’d make him say it. “What behavior would that be? The photographer sneaking around my property taking pictures of my husband and me without our knowledge or permission? Rick and I don’t condone that, either.”

  Arthur’s thin cheeks pinkened. “You know very well the behavior to which I’m referring is the photo the newspaper printed of you engaged in that act.”

  Marilyn arched a brow. “So you blame the Horn for printing the photo? So do I.”

  She was probably grinding centimeters from her teeth. Marilyn knew full well that Arthur wasn’t blaming the person who’d taken the photo or the newspaper that had reprinted it large and in color. Dear God, the photo was huge! No, instead Arthur was blaming her and Rick—and they were the victims. She clenched her fists tighter.

  Arthur released his hands and sucked in a deep breath. “If you choose to engage in that act, you should do so in the privacy of your bedroom.”

  Shock and anger fueled Marilyn’s burst of laughter. “We were in the privacy of our home.”

  He jerked a finger toward the newspaper. “With the windows wide open.”

  “The blinds were closed.” She punched her right index finger against the photo. “These shadows are the blinds.”

  “You should have made certain they were properly closed.” Arthur’s voice shook with inexplicable outrage.

  Marilyn stared at him. “Why? On the off chance that some unknown photographer would sneak onto my private property and press his telephoto lens against my window?”

  Arthur stabbed a finger toward the Horn. “Look at the paper. It’s not an impossibility.”

  Marilyn was approaching the end of her patience. “What do you want from me, Arthur?”

  His expression stiffened more, if that were possible. “I want an explanation, something that I can give to the board.”

  “Fine. Tell the board a trespasser came onto my property and took an unauthorized photograph of my husband and me doing what married couples do in the privacy of their home.”

  Arthur’s nostrils flared. His lips thinned. “You think this is funny? Is this a joke to you?”

  Marilyn’s eyes stretched wide. “Do you hear me laughing? A photo of my husband and me is plastered in a newspaper that’s circulated to all of our neighbors, friends, and family. To perfect strangers. There’s nothing funny about that.”

  Arthur looked down his long, aquiline nose at her. “If you can’t take this incident seriously, perhaps this hospital isn’t the right fit for you.”

  Marilyn narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Arthur?”

  The administrator gave her a flat stare. “I’m revoking your hospital privileges.”

  “What?” Marilyn forced the word past her numb lips.

  Suddenly, Arthur didn’t seem as angry at the world. “Your lifestyle doesn’t suit the reputation that this hospital wants to present to the community.”

  Marilyn blinked. “Are you kidding me? You do realize that Rick and I are married? Married people have sex, Arthur. How do you think you got here?” Much to my regret.

  Arthur looked disgusted. “Do not compare yourself and your lifestyle to my parents.”

  Perhaps Arthur’s parents only had sex the one time. She probably would have sworn off the act as well, if he was the result.

  Marilyn spun her chair to face her nemesis. “On what grounds are you claiming to dismiss me?”

  “Moral grounds.” Arthur’s voice was cold enough to give her chills. “The fact that you and Rick are married doesn’t make it any more acceptable for you to flaunt your sexuality in such a public forum. Patients expect a higher degree of morality and professionalism from their caregivers.”

  Marilyn’s mind screamed at the injustice of the accusations Arthur threw at her. “Why are you holding me to a higher moral standard than the other doctors in this hospital?”

  Arthur had the audacity to look baffled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on, Arthur.” Outrage gave Marilyn the strength to stand. “You know damn well several physicians on staff are having affairs with other doctors—and with their patients. Therefore, how can you claim to dismiss me on a morality issue?”

  “Several patients have already left because of you.” Arthur drew himself up even straighter.

  Would someone please remove the stick from the administrator’s butt? “One patient, Arthur. And although she left my care, she’s still with the hospital.”

  “Hannah DeSuza cancelled her afternoon appointment with you and informed the nurse she was transferring her care to Downstate.” There was satisfaction in Arthur’s tone. It contradicted his supposed concern over keeping patients on the hospital’s record.

  Marilyn frowned. “No one informed me of Ms. DeSuza’s cancellation.”

  “They informed me.” His meaning was clear. He was the final authority. “My decision isn’t up for debate, Mary. Your access to the hospital has been revoked. If you leave quietly, I’ll be more inclined to give you references.”

  Ice spread across Marilyn’s chest, even as her face burned with anger and embarrassment. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Arthur.” She collected her purse and her backpack. “Something tells me a reference from you wouldn’t be the career booster you seem to think.”

  She circled the hospital administrator and strode to the elevators. Marilyn could feel the stares of patients and former coworkers following her down the hall. She refused to look back.

  Warrick went weak with relief when Marilyn’s number appeared on his cellular screen. He stepped off the running path outside the arena and answered the call. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the past hour. Did you get my messages?”

  “I know about the article and the picture. How are you feeling?” Marilyn’s voice was raised over the background traffic noise playing through the connection from her end.

  Warrick’s frown was puzzled. Why was she outside? He wiped the sweat from his brow with the palm of his left hand. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Are you sure? I know you were upset about the team’s loss last night. Now that photograph turns up in the Horn.”

  Why wasn’t she angry with him? Instead she was worried about him.

  Warrick turned toward the marina. Watching the water helped to calm him. “I’m all right, Mary. Really. Now tell me how you’re doing.”

  “I’ve been better.” Marilyn’s tone was dry. “Arthur revoked my hospital privileges.”

  “What?” Warrick turned from the water. “Why?”

  “He said we were immoral for flaunting the fact that we have sex out
side the bedroom.”

  Warrick saw red. Again. “Son of a—”

  “He’s never been one of my favorite people, either.”

  “We didn’t pay that photographer to take our picture. The newspaper did.”

  “I tried explaining that to him. It didn’t work.” Marilyn’s reasonable tone was faked. Warrick heard the underlying anger.

  “I’m so sorry, Mary.” How could he ever make this up to her? Was this the final straw that ended their marriage? He wished he could see her, study her expression, read her body language.

  “So am I.”

  “Jackie threatened the Horn with legal action to get them to turn over the photos and agree never to print them again.”

  “The damage has been done, Rick. I feel as though I’ve been victimized repeatedly by the photographer, then the newspaper, now my ex-boss.” Her voice wobbled on her last words.

  Warrick died a thousand deaths. “Are you on your way home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Warrick started jogging back to his car. “I don’t want you to be by yourself right now.”

  Marilyn sniffled. “No, I’ll be fine. I need a little time to clear my head. And you and the team need to practice so you can beat the Waves in Miami on Sunday.”

  Warrick gripped his cell phone. “The team can wait.” His tone was hard.

  Marilyn expelled a breath. “You say that now, but you’d regret it Sunday.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, you would. Besides, we’re a one-income household now. We can’t afford the fine you’d have to pay for missing practice.” Marilyn’s response was a weak attempt at her normal humor. She was hurting and trying not to show it. Warrick had always found her inner strength attractive. But today, it made him feel worse.

  “I’d pay it gladly.”

  Marilyn exhaled a shaky breath. “I know you would. But, please, I just need some time alone right now. And maybe when you win the finals, this will all have been worth it.”

  His heart was breaking. “I don’t think so.”

  The situation with the newspaper running a photo of their lovemaking illustrated Marilyn’s point. She wasn’t the celebrity. In fact, neither of them had signed up for such a prurient invasion of their privacy. The media had gone way too far. It had lost any sense of decency.