by Regina Hart
Marilyn tightened her grip on the receiver. “Then on what are you basing your judgment of my husband?”
Janet sighed. “The lifestyle of star athletes is well documented.”
“All of them?”
“Enough of them.”
Marilyn switched the receiver to her right hand to ease her left fist. The fingers of her left hand tingled as circulation returned. “You and I are very different.”
“I suppose we are.” Janet sounded bored.
“You’re a status conscious, judgmental elitist.” She stopped short of adding “bitch.” How could she ever have entertained the idea of becoming partners with such a pretentious person?
“Excuse me?” Janet’s question was sharp.
“And I’m not.” Marilyn ignored her. “Yet we’re both O-B-G-Y-Ns.”
“I resent that.” The clinic partner’s tone bristled.
Marilyn narrowed her eyes. “And I pity people who judge all athletes by the negative behaviors of some of the extremely few players the media cover.” Marilyn’s voice shook as her temper grew. “Until you know even one of them personally, don’t. Judge. Any.”
Janet’s intake of breath was long and deep. “I don’t see a call for your hostility.”
Marilyn’s words rolled right over the clinic partner’s response. “I didn’t meet my husband at a club, Janet. He doesn’t frequent casinos or bars or strip joints. Do I seem like the kind of person who would marry someone like that?”
Janet stuttered. “Who knows what a woman would do for a man like that once he got his hands on her?”
Marilyn’s words came to a stop. She frowned. “Do you think he’s sexually enslaved me?” Intriguing.
“How would I know? However, the photo of the two of you in the paper was fairly provocative.” The other woman sounded almost jealous.
Marilyn braced her left fist on her hip, brushing the soft cotton material of her pleated brown shorts. “Rick would rather spend a quiet evening at home with me than a night on the town with the fellas. Do you think you’ll ever see that on TV? Neither do I.”
She exhaled. Where had this rant come from? It had been building for weeks, possibly months. She felt lighter and freer now that she’d gotten those words off her chest. Her thoughts were clearer. Maybe she should thank Janet.
Maybe not.
Her cell phone rang from across the room. Marilyn hurried to the end table. Please let it be Warrick.
Emma’s text message read, “I saw the news! Are you all right? Want me to come over?”
Marilyn responded with one word, “Yes!” She dropped her cell phone into the front pocket of her shorts.
Janet cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, Warrick still has an undesirable image. His behavior reflects on you as his wife. Your husband’s behavior would also reflect on Dionne and me as your partners. Neither of us believe that image is well suited to the clinic.”
Marilyn’s attention shifted to the television screen. The station finally had moved on to something other than the Jordan Hyatt fairy tale.
She took the universal remote from the black marble coffee table and turned off the TV. “I know the real man. If you’d rather believe the media than trust my judgment, then you’re right to forgo our partnership.”
“Or perhaps you’re misguided.” Janet’s tone was cool.
“I’m not.” Marilyn’s voice was cold. “Besides, this media frenzy will disappear once the season’s over.”
“I guess we’ll see Monday morning.” Janet seemed dubious.
Marilyn scowled. The Monarchs’ season wouldn’t end Monday. The team would win the Eastern Conference title as well as the NBA finals. It was what Warrick wanted, and he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.
She crossed the family room back to the telephone base on the ebony marble corner table. Marilyn squared her shoulders beneath her green T-shirt and the near crushing disappointment of not getting the clinic partnership. “Thank you for calling me with your decision, Janet. I appreciate the courtesy. I hope you and Dionne will be very successful with the clinic.”
“Marilyn, when you’ve had enough of your husband’s antics, give us a call.” Although Janet’s words were calm and confident, they didn’t mask her urgency. “Dionne and I are interested in everything else you would bring to the partnership.”
Everything else meaning her parents? Marilyn’s disgust was self-directed. She’d wanted the clinic partnership. Unfortunately, her desperation had blinded her to how high a price the other women had required. It sickened her how close she’d come to paying it.
“I can’t believe I let someone like you try to tell me my husband isn’t worth keeping.” Could she ever forgive herself? “He’s a better person than you could ever dream of being. I wouldn’t trade him for your partnership even if your clinic was the only game in town.” It took all of her control not to slam the receiver onto the telephone base.
Marilyn left the family room to get a glass of ice water from the kitchen. Her thoughts were scattered. Her muscles were shaking with reaction.
How could she have been so blind—and desperate?—to have ever considered a partnership with Janet Crowley? She may not have been certain where her marriage was heading—the overwhelming media attention was still a concern—but she knew her career path could never lead her into business with the affected parasite.
Her cell phone chimed in her front shorts pocket, startling her from her thoughts. Marilyn retrieved the device. The cellular display identified Warrick as the caller. She selected the answer option with fumbling fingers. “How are you?”
Warrick’s mind went blank. He hadn’t expected that greeting from Marilyn. But he should have. She’d asked the same question when the Horn had published the photo of them in their kitchen. “I’ve been better.”
“So have I.” Some of the tension had drained from her voice.
“Mary, I don’t know Jordan Hyatt.” Warrick enunciated each word. “I’ve never met her and I’m certainly not having an affair with her. I’d never, ever be unfaithful to you.”
“You don’t need to convince me of something I already know.”
Warrick exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Thank God she still trusted him. He sank into the cushioned chair beside the writing table. “I wanted you to hear me say the words.”
“Why did she call a press conference to tell the greater New York City metropolitan area that she’s pregnant with your child?” Marilyn’s words tumbled over each other.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t understand why the media was trying so hard to destroy his marriage, either. Were they that desperate for sales? Or had he somehow offended every publisher in the city?
“Are you sure that you’ve never met her?”
“I’m positive.” Warrick stared into the middle distance of the view outside his window. Where was Marilyn? The kitchen? The family room? Wherever she was, he wished he could be with her right now.
“Maybe you signed an autograph for her or she attended one of the team’s fund-raisers.” Her voice was strained and breathless.
Warrick sorted through remembered encounters with Monarchs fans. “Most of the people who approach me are kids. There are a few grown men and women who ... don’t dress like her.”
“I can imagine.” Marilyn’s tone was dry. “What are we going to do?”
Outside his hotel room, Warrick heard other guests walking the halls, talking and laughing. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He had to believe this media-manufactured drama would end soon.
Warrick rose to pace. “Troy said Andrea Benson is researching Jordan Hyatt’s background to find out what or who put her up to this.”
“Andrea Benson? Isn’t she a reporter?” There was reservation in Marilyn’s response.
“We can trust her. She won’t write a salacious piece about us.”
“The articles she’s written about you in the past seemed fair. But I don’t want any more stories about u
s in the newspapers—or on the television or the radio. I’ve had enough.”
So had he. “I can’t ignore Jordan Hyatt’s lies.”
“Then sue her for slander. I’m done with the media. Let’s take her to court.”
In the background, Warrick identified the sound of ice collecting in a glass. Marilyn was in the kitchen pouring ice water. Not a good sign.
“Think about that, Mary.” He dragged a hand over his head. “A lawsuit brought by a married professional athlete against a woman who is not his wife yet claimed to be pregnant with his child would generate a lot of media coverage.”
The sound of the faucet running carried to his cell phone. Glass hit the tiled counter with unnecessary roughness.
“You have a point.” She didn’t seem happy about it. “But if we can’t avoid the media, we should at least control the message.”
She reminded him of Troy. “What do you mean?”
“If Jordan Hyatt can call a press conference, so can you.”
14
Warrick’s stomach turned at the thought of discussing his personal life in front of a camera. “A press conference would keep the media coverage focused on her lies. It would be my word against hers. I need to know why she’s trying to discredit me.”
“And while we’re keeping silent, the media and that woman will shred your reputation. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Yes.” More than he thought possible. “But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. We need to wait until Andrea gets information about Jordan Hyatt’s background.”
“I wish you’d at least tell the media you’re not the father of that woman’s baby. Defend yourself.”
“It won’t do any good.” Warrick kneaded the knot at the base of his neck.
“We’re not talking about your father, who never listens to anyone but himself. At least try it.” Marilyn’s frustration was loud and clear.
“The press won’t listen. Instead they’ll try to goad me into a reaction they can feed to all of their outlets.” As frayed as his temper had been lately, it wouldn’t take much goading to get him to snap.
“Jordan Hyatt told all of New York that you cheated on me.” Marilyn’s voice was tight. “Our friends, neighbors, family, your teammates heard her. All that I’m asking is that you set the record straight.”
What could he say to convince her that waiting was the more prudent course? “It bothers me that there are people who will believe her lies. But you’re the only person I have to defend myself to and you already believe in me.”
Marilyn’s sigh was soft. “I don’t want people to think badly of you. You’re a good person, Rick. A great person. You don’t deserve this.”
Warrick’s heart twisted. God, he wished she were near him. Her words weren’t enough. He wanted to touch her. Hold her.
He sat on the edge of the bed, propping his elbow on his knee. “What you think is all that matters to me. Our marriage is about you and me. Don’t let what other people think about us affect that.”
Marilyn hesitated. “What is this really about, Rick?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you reluctant to talk with the press because of the Monarchs?”
He stiffened. “This has nothing to do with the team.”
A beat of silence traveled through the line. “Janet Crowley called.”
Warrick dreaded the reason behind Marilyn’s abrupt change of topic. “The clinic partner?”
“I’m not getting the partnership.” Her disappointment was audible. “Janet and Dionne believe our lifestyle is too disruptive for their practice.”
Warrick scrubbed a hand over his face. Son of a—“Mary, I’m so very sorry. I know how much you wanted a partnership with that clinic.”
“Your silence may be good for the team, Rick, but it’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”
Warrick stood, hoping to soothe his agitation. “Mary, our choices are speaking up now and keeping her lies in the news or waiting until we have the proof we need to discredit her.”
“But we don’t know what we’re looking for or how long it will take for us to find this information.”
Warrick closed his eyes at the desperation in her voice. “It shouldn’t take that long.” He hoped.
“And in the meantime, you’ll stay quiet to avoid any media coverage that could distract the team and cost you the series.”
Guilt pricked him although the charge wasn’t completely true. “I have to consider how my actions will affect them.”
“What about me, Rick?” Her voice was tired. “I don’t want to take a backseat to the Monarchs.”
Marilyn ended the call. Warrick held on to his cell phone, prolonging their connection while the silence stretched and bore down around him. He couldn’t shake off the weight of her words or quiet the questions chasing each other in his mind.
Should he hold a press conference? Was he asking Marilyn to take a backseat to his team? Who was Jordan Hyatt and why in the hell had she chosen his life to ruin?
“Jordan Hyatt must be mentally unbalanced.” Less than half an hour later, Marilyn sat in the kitchen with Emma. She was nursing a second glass of ice water.
“Why do you say that?” Emma had barely touched her first glass.
Marilyn looked up in surprise. “Why else would she claim to be Rick’s lover? She must be delusional.”
Emma searched Marilyn’s eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m asking as a friend.”
No good ever came from “friendly questions” that began with those words. “What is it?”
Emma took a breath. “Are you sure Rick isn’t cheating on you?”
Marilyn squelched the urge to toss Emma out onto the street. Emma was only looking out for her best interests. Wasn’t she? “I’m positive. Rick and I spend most of our free time together.”
Emma pursed her lips. “I know. Now that you’re married, I hardly ever see you.”
Marilyn blinked. Was that resentment in her friend’s voice? “So when would he have time to have an affair?”
Emma snorted. “Don’t be naive, Mary. With the hours you work, Rick’s home alone a lot of nights. He also travels a lot during the year and you never go with him.”
“I have—had—a job. Besides, I trust him.”
“You wouldn’t be the first wife of a professional athlete who trusted her husband only to have him make a fool of her.” Emma folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Would you like me to list the cheaters’ names alphabetically or by sport?”
Marilyn didn’t recognize the woman seated across the table. “Don’t judge my husband by the bad experiences you’ve had with men.”
A spark of anger lit Emma’s green eyes. “Sooner or later, they all break your heart.”
“Not Rick.”
“Yeah, I could tell from that photo in the Horn.”
Marilyn caught her breath. “That’s not funny, Em. That photograph was mortifying. It also cost me my job and my parents’ respect.”
Emma cocked her head. “What about the partnership? Have you heard from Janet or Dionne?”
Marilyn eased her throat with a sip of water. “They’ve declined my application.”
Emma sat back in her seat. “Your job, the partnership. This has gone too far. Why are you still with him?”
“If I allow the media to destroy my marriage, I would be letting it go too far.” The media, her boss, her mother. Should she now add her friend to the list of outside forces trying to come between her and Warrick?
The disappointment in Emma’s eyes reminded Marilyn of her mother. “When we were in college, you said you didn’t want to be thought of as the Devrys’ daughter.”
Marilyn nodded. “That’s right. I wanted my own identity.”
Emma crossed her arms and legs. “Instead of marrying a doctor as your mother wanted, you moved three thousand miles away and became a doctor.”
“That’s what I wanted to do.” What was Emma
’s point?
“Then almost as soon as you got your medical license, you married an NBA superstar and became Mrs. Warrick Evans.”
“It’s Dr. Marilyn Devry-Evans.” Marilyn stood and crossed to the sink. She wanted distance between herself and Emma. Was the width of the kitchen enough?
“You gave up your identity.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He cost you your job.”
She spun back to face her friend. “Arthur cost me my job.”
“Why do you always defend him?”
“Why are you attacking him?” Marilyn planted her hands on her hips. “A true friend would focus instead on helping me prove to the media and the public that Rick is a good man and Jordan Hyatt is a liar.”
The telephone rang, shattering the tense silence. Marilyn glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway. “Rick suggested screening the calls to make sure they aren’t reporters.”
Emma pushed back her chair. “He has you cowering in fear inside your own home? That’s ridiculous.”
Marilyn’s eyes widened as she watched Emma hurry from her kitchen. Her honey blond curls waved behind her.
“Em!” Marilyn arrived in the family room seconds too late.
“The Evans residence.” Emma turned away from Marilyn.
Marilyn clamped her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Hang up.” She hissed the command.
Emma shrugged out of Marilyn’s grip. “Yes, she’s right here.” She extended the cordless telephone receiver to Marilyn. “It’s your mother.”
Marilyn snatched the phone from the other woman and covered the mouthpiece. “Are you crazy?”
“He has you afraid to answer your own phone. That’s crazy.” Emma circled Marilyn on her way to the front door. “We’ll talk later. I’ll let myself out.” Emma strutted to the front door.
What had gotten into her?
Marilyn turned her attention to the telephone. She braced herself for the coming storm. “Hello, Mother.”
“Your husband’s mistress held a press conference.” Celeste was shouting.
Marilyn may never forgive Emma for answering her phone. Her friend hadn’t done her any favors. “Rick doesn’t have a mistress.”
