by Regina Hart
Gerald cocked his head. “Sound familiar?”
“No.” What was Gerald implying?
“You’ll take any risk to protect the Monarchs, just as I’ll go to any length to avenge my family.”
Troy’s stomach turned. “I’m nothing like you.”
Gerald laughed. “You got yourself fired trying to protect the Monarchs.”
Troy’s face burned. “A lot of people were hurt by the Insider.”
Gerald smirked. “Whenever the media runs a story that you don’t like about the team, you punish them. How can you blame me for punishing Jackie for the way her family treated my uncle?”
Troy stiffened. “It’s my job to protect the team’s image.”
“You alienated the media because they didn’t always write positive stories about the Monarchs.” Gerald’s lips stretched into a wide, mocking smile. “How does that old saying go? ‘There’s no such thing as bad press.’”
Troy leaned back in his chair. “The fact is, you’re blaming Jackie and her family for your uncle’s mistakes.”
“And who are you blaming when you strike out at the media for taking potshots at your team?” Gerald stood. “We’re alike. We both have something to protect and we’re willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish our goal.”
Troy watched Gerald leave his office. The former Monarchs co-owner was wrong. They were nothing alike. Gerald was the one deluding himself about his uncle. Popular opinion was that Quinton Bimm had been a drunk and a philanderer. He’d have bled the franchise dry.
Troy wasn’t blaming other people for his mistakes. He wasn’t out for revenge. He was hard on the media because the media were hard on his team. This was about the team. It had nothing to do with him.
The screeching telephone interrupted Andrea as she second-guessed herself Thursday morning. Thank goodness. She rubbed an area on the left side of her chest, cleared her throat, then lifted the receiver. “Sports. Andrea Benson.”
“You made me sound good.” Barron sounded surprised.
Andrea was surprised as well. She’d only given Barron the draft of the feature she’d written about his personal and professional struggles that morning after working on it Tuesday evening and all day Wednesday. “You’ve already read the story?”
“Twice.”
Andrea checked her wristwatch. It was barely eleven o’clock. “I just sent it to you an hour ago.”
“It was a fast read.”
That was a good start. But was the story worth it? Which should she choose, her lover or her career?
Andrea tapped out the computer key commands that pulled the electronic version of the feature onto her monitor. “Are you comfortable with it?” Did she want him to take the decision out of her hands? Andrea blushed. She didn’t know.
“Like I said, you made me sound good.”
Andrea heard papers shuffling in the background as though Barron was reviewing the draft for a third time as they talked on the phone. “Did you think I’d make you sound like the villain?”
“Well, yeah.” His voice deepened with regrets. “I let my teammates down. I let my coaches down. I let everybody down. The fans. Myself.”
Andrea hurt for him. “You’re not a bad person, Bling. You just need help working through some things. Like I did.”
Barron grunted. “You didn’t turn out too bad.”
Andrea chuckled at the stingy praise. “And you’ll be fine, too. But in the meantime, are you sure you want to go with this article? You don’t have to. I’ll understand if you want me to pull it.”
Barron didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go with it. I mean, this article will help people. And, you know, after all the people I hurt, I want to help some. You know what I mean?”
“I understand.” That’s what she’d been trying to do for the past four years, help people. If she backed off now, she’d be breaking a promise she’d made to herself. Was she willing to do that? Could she compromise herself, even for Troy?
Barron was still talking. “Thanks for not giving up on me. I mean, when I didn’t want to listen, you got in my face. And when I didn’t want to do the article, you said it wasn’t about me. It was about other people who needed me. I owe you.”
Andrea blinked. The feature wasn’t about Barron. It wasn’t about her or Troy, either. It was about all the people who were struggling with the same personal demons she and Barron were fighting. It was about the kids who thought they’d be set for life if they could just make it to the NBA. Because even more than covering professional sports, she wanted to write articles that made a difference in people’s lives. If Troy couldn’t understand that, then maybe he wasn’t Mr. Right For Her after all.
She took a breath to ease the constriction in her chest. “You can repay me by not giving up on yourself.”
“I won’t.” His voice was determined. “When will the story run?”
“Sunday.” Andrea glanced toward Willis’s office. He’d planned a prominent spot for the feature. At the time, she hadn’t cared. Now it was important to her.
“Two days after the Monarchs’ game three against the Knicks.” Barron’s observation reclaimed Andrea’s attention.
She smiled. Athletes tended to interpret things in terms of their sports calendars. “Maybe the article will inspire them for Tuesday’s game four.”
Barron’s chuckle was dry. “They split the first two games with the Knicks. They’re playing better without me.”
Andrea sensed his uncertainty. It was important for Barron to remain confident and positive. “Focus on getting healthy. You’ll help them with their run for the championship next season.”
Barron exhaled a deep breath. “That’s right. Back-to-back championship titles. You heard it here first.”
Andrea chuckled. “I’ll write that down. See you at Friday’s game.”
Barron and Andrea wrapped up their conversation before she recradled the phone. With her hand still on the receiver, she gathered courage for her next conversation. She suspected it wouldn’t progress nearly as well.
Forty minutes later, she faced Troy behind his closed office door. There was more than his desk between them. They hadn’t spoken in almost two days. Even the memory of their last conversation hurt. How had things gotten so bad so quickly?
She crossed her right leg over her left as she settled into the black cushioned visitor’s chair. “We’re running Barron’s story in the Sunday edition. I thought you’d want to know.”
Troy leaned back in his seat. “And it doesn’t matter that I don’t want you to.”
Did he know the effect his gentle tone had on her? Probably not. He’d used it often enough without getting the results he’d wanted. Still, resistance wasn’t ever easy. “This story has value. It’s accurate and it’s newsworthy. There’s no reason to kill it.”
Troy folded his hands on top of the pile of papers on his desk. His gaze moved over each of her features as though memorizing her. “The franchise is still reeling from all the news coverage of Gerry trying to blackmail a league official. We can’t handle your releasing a story about our team captain being an alcoholic on top of that.”
She studied his determined features. “It sounds as though this article is just what the team needs. It’s a good piece, and it shows the Monarchs in a positive light.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “This season we’ve taken one black eye after another. We can’t risk any more bad press. We’ve just launched a new image campaign.”
Andrea tightened her grip on the padded arms of her chair and absorbed the blow. “This isn’t bad press. Barron’s comfortable with the article. He sees it as an opportunity to help other people who may be going through the same thing he’s facing right now. I understand how important that is for him.”
Troy’s dark eyes sharpened. “Barron read the draft? Can I read it?”
His request took her breath away. First he wanted to tell her what she could and couldn’t write. Now he wanted to review her article? “No
. You cannot. You’ll have to take my word for it that the feature is a solid human interest piece that won’t bring shame to your franchise.”
“You let Barron read the article in advance.”
“It’s important that he’s comfortable with the way he’s portrayed in the article. You’re a different situation. I’m not sending you the draft for approval, Troy.”
“Then why are you here?” Troy pushed himself back into his chair with an air of defeat.
“To tell you when the article’s running.” Andrea’s shoulders rose and fell in a useless sigh. “I’d hoped you’d reconsidered your decision.”
“I’d hoped you had.” His disappointment hurt, but not enough to make her change her mind.
Andrea saw her own regrets reflected in Troy’s ebony eyes. “Why won’t you trust me, Troy?”
“An exclusive interview with an NBA star admitting he’s an alcoholic will raise your profile. We’re obviously going to see that article differently.”
“You trusted me when you were on this side of that desk.” She nodded toward the desk between them. “Now that you’re back in that chair, I’m the enemy again.”
“It’s my job to protect the team.”
She heard Troy’s frustration. Well, she was frustrated, too. Even more so once she’d realized he was making her pay for another woman’s actions. “If the team gets bad press, it’s not the players’ fault. It’s not your fault. It’s the media’s fault. Is that a holdover from your experience at Georgetown?”
Troy frowned his confusion. “What?”
“When your college girlfriend told you she was pregnant, you blamed her for your quitting the basketball team.”
Andrea’s attack stunned him. “That’s because she’d lied. I’d never have quit the team if I didn’t think I was going to have a family to take care of.”
“And when you went on television to accuse Gerry of being the Insider, you blamed him when he fired you.”
Troy’s voice was tense enough to crack. “The Insider blog sounded like something Gerry would do.”
Andrea pinned him with an unwavering gaze. “What happened at Georgetown and with ESPN are examples of you blaming others for your behavior. No one did those things to you, Troy. Those were decisions you made yourself. Take responsibility.”
Troy froze as Andrea’s words echoed around him. He’d accused Gerald of blaming others for his uncle’s behavior. His former boss had said they were alike. That couldn’t be true.
His throat was dry. “I take responsibility for my mistakes.”
Andrea wouldn’t allow him an easy out. “Then why haven’t you forgiven your ex-wife for lying to you about the pregnancy?”
Troy pushed out of his executive chair and prowled his office. “Why should I forgive her? She lied to get what she wanted, and her lie cost me a place on the team and my scholarship.”
Andrea’s words chased him across the room. “If you’d wanted to play basketball, you could have stayed on the team. Or you could have left early for the draft.”
Troy paced back toward his desk. “What about my college degree?”
“You could have gone back for that.” Andrea shrugged one slim shoulder. “Vince Carter did.”
Troy knew the Phoenix Suns player had returned to college for his degree. “I didn’t want to do that.”
Andrea spread her hands. “That was your decision, too. And, by the way, protecting the team from Gerry was Jackie’s job.”
Troy’s brow knitted. Was she questioning his job performance as well? “I’m the media and marketing executive.”
“And you’ve designed a great image campaign for the Monarchs. But there was nothing you could have done to change Gerry’s attitude. You can only manage your own.”
“Is that on a greeting card?” Troy regretted his flippancy as soon as the question left him.
“You’re holding on to past grudges that are affecting your actions today.”
“That’s not true.”
“Fifteen years later, you still blame your ex-wife for ending your basketball career. She’s the reason for your rash reactions whenever you even imagine someone’s threatening the Monarchs. It’s time to accept responsibility for your actions and move on.”
“Are you done?” Troy stared out at the marina behind the Empire Arena. She expected him to forgive his ex-wife for lying to him and forget that Gerald had fired him. It was easy for Andrea to pass judgment from the outside looking in.
“You can’t work with me or any member of the media if you don’t trust us. And until you come to terms with your past, you won’t be the media and marketing executive the Monarchs need to rebuild their franchise.”
Troy heard Andrea leave. Her parting comment had shaken Troy more than he wanted to admit.
21
Constance knocked on Troy’s door. “I’ve e-mailed the new advertising specifications to all the publications on your list. If there’s nothing else you need today, I’ll say good night.”
Startled, Troy glanced at his watch. It was after five o’clock. It had been a long and unproductive Thursday. “Good night, Connie, and thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As she started to turn away, Troy gave in and stopped her. “Connie, do you have a minute?”
She turned back. Her brows raised in question. “Is there something you needed?”
Troy stood. His question was awkward. It might even be out of line, but he had to ask. “How do you like living with Andy and Faith?”
Her smile was answer enough. “It’s great. I was hesitant at first. I didn’t know whether Andrea was planning to ask me about the team.”
“Does she?” It was a struggle to sound casual.
Constance adjusted her tan purse strap on her shoulder. “She never asks anything beyond, ‘How was your day?’ It’s like she’s going out of her way to avoid asking me about the team.”
“I see.” Images of Andrea with Constance and her daughter played through his mind. She seemed to genuinely care about them.
“Faith and I talk more about work.”
And what did Faith tell Andrea? “What does Faith do?”
“She’s an accountant with a firm. Her boss sounds like a real jerk. She’s thinking about looking for another job, but with the economy, she’s not sure she’ll find anything better.”
Was he jumping to conclusions? Maybe Faith didn’t tell Andrea anything. Maybe he should take Andrea’s actions at face value. “I wish her luck.”
Constance leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb. “It meant a lot that you trusted my judgment about moving in with them.” She lowered her gaze as her cheeks bloomed with color. “I’m not used to that.”
Troy frowned. His gaze dropped to his desk before returning it to his assistant. “I knew you wouldn’t give Andrea any inappropriate information about the team.”
Constance tipped her head to the right. “How did you know that? I mean, you hadn’t known me long. How could you be so sure that you could trust me that way?”
Why had he been able to trust Constance, a woman he’d just met, while he was still suspicious of Andrea’s motives? He’d known the reporter a lot longer and they’d been through much more together. Was Andrea right? Was his past experience affecting the way he did his job today?
He moved his shoulders restlessly. “This job is important to you. You wouldn’t risk it by leaking internal information to the press.” And Andrea wouldn’t put Constance in that position. He was sure of that now, even if he hadn’t been before.
Constance nodded. “It does mean a lot. It’s helped Tiff and me get back on our feet. So has living with Andrea and Faith.”
Troy’s brows knitted. “I’m sure you’re both more comfortable being out of the shelter.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. I’m grateful to Andrea for convincing me to take a chance and move in with them. It hasn’t been a month yet. Who knows? In a couple of weeks, we may be driving each oth
er crazy. But Andrea and Faith are really welcoming people.”
“Yes, they are.” They’d invited him and Serge to stay for dinner even though they hadn’t had much. It was the company more than the menu that had made it special.
Constance smiled. “Even the neighbors are kind. I know they’re watching out for Tiff and me after that episode with Wade.” She hesitated. “Wade’s fighting the divorce, but I’m not changing my mind. I want to start over. Tiff deserves for me to start over.”
Troy saw the new Constance Street again. A confident, strong woman who was stepping out of the shadows. “I’m proud of you, Connie.”
She blushed again. “Thank you. But I think a lot of it is because of Andrea and Faith. This is the environment Tiff and I needed to complete the healing process.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
She laughed. “Listen to me. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. I think you and Andrea are good together. You make her happy.”
Maybe he had. Troy didn’t want to be the one to tell Constance that he and Andrea had broken up. Andrea could explain in her own time.
“I’m glad things are working out for you at the apartment.”
Constance’s smile was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so personal.”
Troy held up a hand, palm out. “No, you’re fine.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “OK. Well, good night, Troy.”
He watched her leave. In the morning, would he join Faith’s employer as The Jerk Boss?
Faith stared down at Andrea as she lay curled on the sofa. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. What’s new with you?” She didn’t have a prayer of distracting Faith. Her friend was as tenacious as a bulldog.
Faith lowered herself to the armchair cattycorner to the sofa. Her tan V-neck top and brown crew pants looked incongruous with her big, fuzzy orange slippers. “This is the third night in a row that you’ve spent at home. It’s not that we don’t enjoy your company—”
“I’m glad you said that. I was beginning to wonder.”
