by Regina Hart
Someone stopped beside their table. “Troy Marshall. Imagine running into you here.” The silky female voice filled him with dread.
Troy stood to greet his former administrative assistant. “How are you, Mindy?”
The tall redhead tilted her head to one side. “It’s good to see you, Troy.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Barron get to his feet. “How’ve you been, Mindy?” The baller gave her a smooth once-over.
“Hello, Barron.” Mindy gave the NBA player a cool look before turning her attention back to Troy. Her voice warmed. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re no longer with the Monarchs.”
“That’s right.” He swallowed his resentment. Did his voice sound strained?
Mindy smiled. “Sounds like we have something in common. I’m still between jobs myself. But if I hear of anything for you, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
At what cost? “Thanks.”
Mindy shrugged one shoulder. “What are friends for?” Before he could react, she leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I hope to see you again. Soon.” With a toss of her hair, Mindy left the restaurant.
“What’s with you and Mindy?” There was laughter in Barron’s voice.
“Nothing.” Troy reclaimed his seat.
Barron sat again also. “Man, that didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”
“We were talking about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” Barron gave him a disgusted look. “You’re not my mother. What makes you think you can tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“That’s not an answer, Bling.”
Barron sat back in his seat. “I don’t answer to you, Troy. You’re not my coach. You don’t even work for the team anymore.” He started to stand.
Troy grabbed Barron’s left wrist from across the table and held on tight. “Sit down, Barron.” His gaze bore into the younger man, willing him to return to his seat.
Barron pulled his wrist free and sat. “Make it quick, man. I’ve got practice.”
“In three hours.” Troy’s tone was dry. “But it’s up to you how quickly we get out of here.”
Barron glowered at him. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to ease up on your drinking. You still have to play the postseason. You’ve got a shot at a ring.” Troy leaned forward to emphasize his words. “The team needs your best game now. You can’t keep playing with a hangover.”
Barron’s lips curled. “I can handle my alcohol.”
“What are you looking for in those bottles? Courage?”
Barron’s eyes glowed with anger. “Are you calling me a coward?”
Troy held his gaze. “Is there something you’re afraid of?”
Barron stood. He threw some bills on the table, then caught Troy’s eyes. “The next time you want to see me, buy a ticket to the game.”
Troy watched the Monarchs’ team captain walk out of the restaurant. His steps were careful and hesitant and unsure. Did he really believe people couldn’t tell something was wrong with him? Barron was running from everything and everyone, including himself.
From her perch at her mother’s side on the tan love seat, Tiffany turned her head toward Andrea. “My jersey is green.”
Andrea accepted the mug of tea Faith handed her as her roommate settled onto the sofa beside her. “Yes, it is. And it’s as pretty as your eyes.”
The little girl giggled and pressed her face into her mother’s side.
Cupping her own mug, Faith shifted to face Andrea. “This is the kick in the pants you needed to find a better job. You were wasting your talent at Sports.”
Andrea sipped her tea, Faith’s cure for whatever ails you. “In this economy, it doesn’t matter how much talent you have. It’s going to take a while for me to find a new job.”
Faith crossed her legs and drank some tea. “We won’t let you starve.”
Andrea offered a weak smile. “Thank you. I have some savings, but it will go pretty fast.”
Constance shared a look between the other two women. “Speaking of food, are we all home for dinner tonight?”
Andrea avoided Faith’s knowing look. “I am.”
A knock on the door interrupted their Saturday evening dinner discussions.
Faith rose from the sofa, steadying her mug. “I’ll get it.”
Andrea stood and waited for Constance to help Tiffany to her feet. The other woman was young and pretty in knee-length denim shorts and a white cotton blouse. Once Tiffany stood steady, Andrea followed mother and daughter to the doorway.
Faith checked the peephole. “Who is it?”
“Wade Street. I’ve come for my wife.”
The angry male voice on the other side of the door froze Andrea’s blood in her veins. Her eyes shot to Constance. The young mother gripped her daughter’s shoulders, holding her close against her legs. Constance’s skin was paper white; even her lips were pale. Her green eyes, the only color remaining in her face, were stretched as wide as saucers. So were Tiffany’s.
“Open the door.” Constance’s voice was thin. She shifted Tiffany to stand behind her despite the little girl’s protests.
“Are you sure?” Andrea bit her lips to keep from screaming, “No!”
Faith looked from Andrea to Constance. “We should call the police.”
Constance straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Let me talk with him first. Open the door.”
Andrea stepped forward to release the security lock. She took a steadying breath before pulling open the door. Constance’s soon-to-be ex-husband reminded Andrea of a concrete wall. He was tall, maybe six feet, and broad, perhaps more than two hundred pounds. He was clean-shaven with neatly trimmed, wavy brown hair and beady blue eyes.
Andrea kept her grip on the doorknob and forced a cool greeting. “May I help you?”
“It’s about damn time.” Wade Street looked past Andrea to Constance. “Get your stuff. You’re coming home.”
Constance stood tall. Her hand remained on Tiffany’s arm to keep the little girl behind her. “How did you find me?”
Wade smirked. “Your mother told me you were working for the Monarchs. I followed you here from the arena.”
The malice in Wade’s expression gave Andrea chills. He’d followed his estranged wife from her place of work to her home. He’d probably told her to frighten her. Andrea looked at Constance and saw her roommate swallow hard. She willed the young mother to remain strong.
Faith moved closer to Constance’s side. “This is our home and we don’t want you here.”
Wade gave Faith a dismissive look. “Get your stuff, Connie. And the girl’s. I don’t have all day.”
Constance didn’t waver. “Tiff and I aren’t leaving. This is our home.”
Faith settled her hands on her hips. “You heard her. Now leave.”
“Faith.” Andrea tried a soft, warning tone. Her friend’s temper wouldn’t help the deteriorating situation.
Wade’s narrowed eyes shifted from Constance to Tiffany and back. “If you want to stay here, the hell with you. But you can’t have the girl.” Wade spoke to Tiffany. “Come here. Now.”
Tiffany stood with her mother. Her lips thinned. “No.”
Andrea saw the promise of a stubborn personality. She started to close the door. “You have your answer. Now, we’d like you to leave.”
Wade slammed his hand against the door. Andrea felt the impact shoot from her palm all the way to her elbow. It reverberated in her shoulder. She held on despite the pain.
“Get your things. Now.” Wade’s tone was just short of a roar.
Several of the surrounding apartment doors opened in response to the noise. Andrea’s cheeks heated with embarrassment, but the additional witnesses increased their protection.
In her peripheral vision, Andrea saw Faith step forward. “Faith, take Tiff to her room.”
Faith hesitated. “But—”
“Please.” Andrea kept her attention on
Wade. He pushed against the door, trying to force his way in without her neighbors noticing.
The elderly lady across the hall called out to them. “Is everything all right, Andrea?”
Andrea locked eyes with Wade. “We have the situation under control, Mrs. Garrard. He’s not coming in.”
Faith scooped the little girl into her arms. “Come on, baby.”
Tiffany reached for her mother, wiggling in Faith’s arms. “I want to stay with my mommy.”
Faith sighed as she carried Tiffany to her room. “So do I, baby. So do I.”
Constance stepped forward. She grabbed the doorknob from Andrea’s hold and confronted her bully. She pitched her voice so the neighbors could hear her. “We don’t want any part of you. Sign the divorce papers and get out of our lives.”
Andrea blinked. Now that her cub was out of harm’s way, the tigress had unsheathed her claws. Andrea stood beside Constance, preparing herself for Wade’s response. She could only hope it wouldn’t be a physical one.
“Young man.” Mrs. Garrard’s voice carried from across the hall again. “I’ve called the police. Get away from that door.”
Andrea clenched her fists. The situation was spinning out of control. When she didn’t think it could get any worse, two tall, broad shadows settled in front of her door. Troy and Serge stood in the hallway outside of her apartment. They were burdened with paper grocery bags.
Serge looked from Wade to Constance. “What’s going on?”
Wade glanced over his shoulder, raising his chin to meet Serge’s eyes. “Who are you?” His tone wasn’t quite as belligerent now.
Serge arched his brow. “Serge Gateau. Who are you?”
“Wade Street. Connie is my wife.”
Andrea watched the ice collect in Serge’s gaze. His arms flexed around the grocery bags. Constance must have spoken to Serge about the circumstances of her failed marriage.
“I’ve filed for divorce.” Constance’s tone was firm. “Wade’s leaving. Now.”
Troy stepped closer. “You heard the lady. Don’t let us keep you.”
Wade’s gaze traveled from Troy to Serge. He wouldn’t be able to bully them. He looked at Mrs. Garrard and the other neighbors watching from their doorway.
He returned his attention to Constance and Andrea. “This isn’t over.”
Serge moved closer to Wade. “Make no mistake. This is indeed over.” His voice was low, but the threat was clear.
Wade glared a moment longer at Serge. There was uncertainty in his blue eyes. He was a big man, but the NBA player had almost a foot on him and was in much better shape. Perhaps that’s what convinced the bully to turn and stomp away.
Constance pulled the door wider. Troy and Serge crossed into the apartment as doors shut up and down the hall.
Troy’s gaze touched both women with concern. “Are you all right?”
Constance gave him a shaky smile. “Yes, thank you.”
Andrea stepped into the hallway. “Thank you, Mrs. Garrard.”
The elderly lady clasped her hands in front of her rounded hips. “You’re welcome, dear. I didn’t really call the police. They would have taken too long to get here, and I thought we could handle him on our own.”
Andrea was relieved. “You were right.”
Mrs. Garrard nodded once. Her gray bob swung around her chin. She glanced toward Andrea’s guests before meeting her eyes again. “Good evening, dear.” She closed and locked her door.
Andrea returned to her apartment. Her eyes took in Troy’s slim brown sweater. It molded the muscles of his arms, which flexed as he unpacked the shopping bags. Above the V-shaped neckline was a tempting display of chest hair. Last night, those arms had held her close against his chest. She remembered the sound of his heart.
Andrea took a moment to pack those memories away. “What are you guys doing here?”
Troy looked up from the bags. His dark eyes were clouded with concern. His sexy smile was forced. “We’re cooking dinner for you.”
Serge kept glancing toward the kitchen doorway as he unpacked his bags onto the counter. From his vantage point, he could see the bedroom doors. “It’s our way of thanking you for inviting us to dinner Tuesday.”
Andrea blinked. “That wasn’t necessary.”
She followed Serge’s gaze to her roommates. Faith had emerged from Tiffany’s room. She stood with mother and daughter as Constance comforted Tiffany. Or maybe it was the other way around. The toddler had an old soul.
Andrea crossed to Constance and laid her hand on her friend’s shoulder. She could feel the young mother trembling. “You were incredible.”
“Yeah?” Constance blinked away tears and cuddled Tiffany closer. The little girl clung to her mother like a monkey. “I don’t know where I found the courage to defy Wade. I’ve never done that before.” She glanced from Faith to Andrea. “Maybe it’s because I knew I was surrounded by people who would support me.”
Andrea looked up as Serge entered the dining area. He stopped in front of Constance and wrapped her and Tiffany in his arms.
The little girl giggled. “You’re squeezing me.”
Andrea exchanged a look with Faith. She and her roommate joined Troy in the kitchen to give Serge, Constance, and Tiffany privacy. “What are you making?”
“Salmon, rice, and salad for the adults. Fish sticks, tater tots, and corn for Tiffany.” Troy’s features were tight with strain.
She walked up behind him to massage his shoulders. The bunched muscles relaxed beneath her fingers.
He turned and crushed her in his embrace. “If Wade had touched you—” He bit off the rest of his threat.
Andrea’s eyes widened with surprise. She caressed his back. “We’re OK.”
Faith sighed. “All right, you two. I’m running out of rooms to go to.”
Troy pulled back, but his eyes remained on Andrea. “Sorry.”
Andrea cupped the side of his face, moved by the caring she saw there. “I’m not.”
Faith gestured toward the food on the counters. “We fed you spaghetti. You’re repaying us with salmon? Can we keep the change?”
Troy laughed, easing the atmosphere in the kitchen. He turned to Faith. “This is our thank-you. Whether it’s with salmon or burgers, it’s sincere.”
Andrea patted Troy’s back. She needed to touch him. “We appreciate it. Or should I say, you’re very welcome. I’ll get the pans and bowls for you.”
It was a tight squeeze, but Andrea, Faith, and Constance managed to help Troy and Serge cook dinner while Tiffany entertained them with running if disjoined commentary. Serge supplied chardonnay. Andrea was touched that Troy had bought white grape juice, which he shared with her and Tiffany.
At first, the dinner frivolity seemed forced. It was obvious everyone was trying to recover from Wade’s unexpected and undesired visit. But the good food and friendship finally eased the tension. Andrea couldn’t miss the newfound confidence in Constance or the sense of relief surrounding mother and daughter.
Faith leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I ate way too much.”
Constance chuckled. “So did I.”
Tiffany grinned. “I ate the whole thing.”
Serge leaned forward to look at the little girl. “If you’d eaten even one more tater tot, you would have turned into one.”
Tiffany’s giggles spread to the rest of the group.
Andrea pushed to her feet. “That was delicious, gentlemen. Thank you very much.”
Troy wrapped his long, warm fingers around her wrist. “What are you doing?”
Andrea gave him a puzzled smile. “Clearing the table.”
Troy stood, taking her dishes from her and adding them to his own. “Serge and I will take care of that. Dinner’s our responsibility today.”
Faith gave the two men a hopeful look. “Only for today?”
Serge pushed away from the table. “I’m afraid so.”
Andrea joined her roommates in the living room while Troy and Serge
cleared the table and cleaned the dishes. Faith and Andrea took their customary seat on the sofa. Constance settled Tiffany beside her on the love seat.
Constance glanced toward the kitchen before leaning forward. She lowered her voice. “What do you think this means? I’ve never had wealthy men cook me a meal much less clean up afterward.” She frowned. “Actually, I’ve never had any man cook me a meal or clean up after.”
Faith crossed her legs. “It means either we’ve died and gone to heaven or we’re being punked and any minute Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of a closet with a camera.”
Andrea chuckled. “I don’t know what it means, but I’m enjoying it.”
It didn’t take long for the men to complete their kitchen duty. But when they rejoined Andrea and her roommates, their serious expressions drained the joy from the room.
Andrea tensed. “What’s wrong?”
Troy glanced at Serge before answering. “Serge needs to leave now. He’s got to get some rest for game four tomorrow. But he and I discussed it, and I’d like to stay over in case Wade comes back tonight.”
Faith shifted on the sofa to face the two men. “Thank you for offering, but we can take care of ourselves.”
Andrea stood. “Troy, that’s very generous of you. But we’ll be fine. If Wade returns, we’ll call the police.”
Serge looked at Constance. “You handled Wade very well this evening. But this isn’t about you. It’s about us.” The Monarchs player gestured between himself and Troy. “We’re worried about all of you.”
Constance spread her arms. “You don’t need to be. There are three of us.” She smiled at her roommates. “I’m certain I’ll be OK because I’m not alone anymore.”
Troy inclined his head. “Make that four. I’ll go home to get an overnight bag, then I’ll come back and sleep on the couch.”
Andrea, Faith, and Constance exchanged horrified looks. Andrea touched the cushion beneath her. “This sofa’s not that comfortable.”
Troy winked at her. “One night won’t kill me.”
She couldn’t say the same. Just thinking of him sleeping outside her bedroom door made her stomach muscles dance. It was going to be a long night.
