Fast Break

by Regina Hart

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why Gerry’s never married?”

  Jaclyn shook her head. “If it doesn’t have to do with the Monarchs, it’s none of my business.”

  “It does have to do with the Monarchs. Gerry was in love with your mother. Your father, Gerry and I attended New York University together. Gerry met your mother first. But when she met your father, it was love at first sight.”

  Jaclyn’s eyes stung. She blinked to hold back tears. “My grandparents never told me that.” She’d missed her parents’ love-at-first-sight story because she had lost them at such an early age. What other family stories had she missed? There was no one left to ask.

  “Frank wouldn’t have told his parents about Gerry’s jealousy. I don’t think he gave it much thought.” Albert placed his empty cup and saucer on the low, walnut table between them. “But Gerry had always been envious of your father. Your father was smart, handsome and popular. Everything Gerry wanted to be.”

  Jaclyn ran her right index finger back and forth over the china cup. Her mind tumbled with thoughts of Gerry’s envy, his unrequited love and her parents’ romance. “That explains Gerry’s mission to ruin the Monarchs. He wants to destroy what matters most to my family.”

  “I’ve told him that he needs to let go of his resentment for your family. You have nothing to do with what happened in the past. But he doesn’t care. He’s had these bad feelings for so long, I don’t think he’d know what to do without them.”

  Jaclyn studied Albert. “Why are you telling me this now, especially after the role you played in helping Gerry destroy the franchise?”

  Albert was silent, staring into his coffee cup. After several long seconds, he raised his gaze to hers. “I’m so very sorry for what I did.”

  Jaclyn read the regret in Albert’s eyes. She heard it in his voice. It didn’t relieve her anger. “Then why did you do it?”

  “I believed Gerry when he said the franchise would make more money in its own market. But then you reminded me that the franchise isn’t just about money. It’s about community.”

  Jaclyn set her cup and saucer on the low table and stood. “I wish you had remembered sooner, Bert.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackie. Your grandfather was a great man. He really cared about this community, and so do I.”

  “Then help me figure out a way out of this mess.”

  “The key is the arena.”

  “I need more than that. I need a way to keep the team in the Empire. But you and Gerry have taken that possibility out of my reach.”

  Hours later, Jaclyn was still fretting over her meeting with Albert and his less-than-helpful advice. She stood beside Violet at the Morning Glory Church, serving dinner to the homeless and trying to make sense of Albert’s words.

  “Bert said I should focus on keeping the team in the Empire and not worry about getting the majority shares.” Jaclyn added mixed vegetables to the shelter guest’s plate of stewed chicken. She smiled at the older man. “Enjoy.”

  Violet added rice to his plate and wished him a good evening before turning back to Jaclyn. “What is he going to do to help you?”

  “Nothing. He and his family don’t have any interest in the franchise.” Jaclyn served a young father and his son. She frowned at the thin material of their coats. February in Brooklyn demanded thick winter coats. She made a mental note to hold another winter clothing drive with the Monarchs and their corporate partners before the All-Star game.

  Violet added a spoon of rice each to the father and son’s plates. “You can handle the day-to-day. Bert can be a silent partner.”

  “Bert doesn’t want any part of it, Vi. He told me the Empire is the key and now his involvement with the Monarchs is over.”

  “That sounds like a line from The Matrix. Just remember, Jackie, there is no spoon.”

  Jaclyn grinned at her friend’s use of the movie line. It reminded her of the night she beat DeMarcus at one-on-one basketball. “The difference is, Laurence Fishburne’s character didn’t help create the world Keanu Reeves’s character needed to save.”

  “And neither did Keanu Reeves’s character.”

  The hesitancy in Violet’s tone brought Jaclyn up short. “What are you trying to say?”

  Violet served a spoonful of rice to another guest, then looked at the long line of people still waiting to be served. She lowered her voice. “What Gerry and Bert did was unfair and misguided.”

  “In Gerry’s case, it was spite.”

  “True. But, sweetie, you enabled them.”

  The accusation stung. Jaclyn gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t think you could take your grandfather’s place, even though he’d groomed you to do just that. So while he was sick and for almost two years after his death, you left everything to Gerry and Bert.”

  Jaclyn stiffened. “I’d just lost the last member of my family. I was grieving.”

  “I understand. But, sweetie, your grandfather had counted on you.”

  Her heart squeezed. “I know.”

  “Even when you were suspicious of the decisions Gerry and Bert made, you didn’t follow your instincts.”

  Jaclyn breathed deeply to ease the constriction in her chest. “I should have.”

  She served the shelter’s diners in silence for several heavy heartbeats. Violet’s words rang true. She had to accept responsibility for at least part of the mess the Monarchs were in.

  “You OK?” Violet’s tentative question broke her concentration.

  Jaclyn spooned vegetables onto a diner’s plate before smiling at her former teammate. “You’re a good friend.”

  Violet gave her a curious look. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Only a good friend would risk ticking someone off by forcing them to face the truth.”

  Violet giggled. “You’ve done it for me often enough. You’re the one who told me to figure out what I needed to do to get out of my bad mood.”

  “What are friends for?” Jaclyn grinned. “Speaking of which, how’s your search for a coaching position going?”

  Violet sighed. “Not well. School boards are cutting their budgets, so a lot of schools are getting rid of their extracurricular programs, including sports.”

  “I hate to hear that.”

  “So do I.”

  Jaclyn smiled at the middle-aged woman who’d come to the church for a meal. Her hands were wind-chapped. Jaclyn put a full serving spoon of mixed vegetables on the woman’s plate and reminded herself to start the clothing drive tonight.

  Violet added rice to the woman’s plate. “I’m meeting with some community organizations. But I’m beginning to wonder if I should do something that uses my business degree.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not as though I need the money. Aidan has a good salary and we’ve always had safe investments that are still doing well. But I wonder if I need a different challenge.”

  “Maybe you need to try a couple of things.” They were finally coming to the end of the long line of diners. Jaclyn took heart. In a moment, she’d need a break. Her shoulder was beginning to hurt from the repetitive motion.

  “You left basketball for the corporate world. It gave you an entirely different experience. Maybe I should try something different, too.”

  “You should decide what you want to do and not worry about what I did. Thanks to your husband, my investments are doing well, too. I’ll need that money if I lose the Monarchs.”

  Violet shook her head. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll figure out a way to keep the team in Brooklyn.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  DeMarcus sensed Jaclyn’s presence seconds before she joined him in her family room. It was after midnight Monday, but he was still studying game film on her sixty-eight-inch plasma screen, high-definition television. The audio was off.

  “Serge is playing with a lot more conviction these days. What did you say to him?” Jaclyn curled up beside him on the black polyest
er sofa.

  DeMarcus spoke without looking up from his notepad. “I told him if he wanted to be traded, he’d have to improve his stats, otherwise no other team would take over his contract.”

  “Brilliant. I wish I’d thought of that.” Her sleepy voice was warm with amusement. “Sounds like you’re getting to know our players.”

  A thick, ankle-length emerald cotton robe protected Jaclyn from the chill of the early February morning. It covered her at her neck, but he enjoyed the way it exposed her left leg when she walked.

  Scouting reports detailing facts, figures and statistics for each Washington Wizards player sat in a pile on DeMarcus’s lap. He stacked the reports on the coffee table in front of them and paused the game film. “It’s late. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I woke up and missed you.”

  He reached for her ankles, settling her feet in his lap. Her toenails were polished a rich purple, matching her fingernails. “I miss you, too. But I want to beat the Wizards Wednesday for my boss.”

  “I do enjoy winning at home.”

  DeMarcus wrapped his hands around her left foot. “Good grief. Your feet are like ice.”

  Jaclyn closed her eyes and sighed, sliding deeper into the couch. “Your hands are so warm.”

  “Where are your socks?”

  “Probably in my sock drawer.” She shifted her right foot closer to DeMarcus’s arms and sighed again when he wrapped one hand around that foot.

  “It’s too cold for you to walk around on bare feet.”

  Jaclyn gave him a noncommittal hum. “I noticed you’re starting Jamal now instead of Rick.” With her eyes closed, Jaclyn appeared ready to go back to sleep.

  “Not a very subtle change of topic.” DeMarcus pressed his palm into her high arches. Her skin was soft and smooth to his touch.

  “Did you still want to talk about my feet?”

  “ No.”

  “Well, then.” She opened her cinnamon eyes and claimed his gaze. “Why is Rick sitting on the bench?”

  DeMarcus froze. He was the one massaging her feet. Why was she asking him about Warrick Evans? He flexed his shoulders beneath his thick blue sweatshirt to ease the grip of jealousy. “Rick’s playing too tight. He’s hesitating when he has good shots.”

  “Have you talked with him?”

  “About what?”

  “To find out why he’s playing so tentatively.”

  DeMarcus stroked the sole of her right foot with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m his coach, not his pastor. Rick knows his numbers are down, and he knew he was competing with Jamal for the starting spot. Jamal is one of our leading scorers.”

  “He also leads the league in fouls. For every four points he gets for us, he gives the other team two free throws.”

  His shoulders were tightening again. “We’re working on that.”

  Jaclyn wiggled her right foot free of DeMarcus’s hold and slipped her left foot into his hands. “But does Rick have to sit on the bench while you work with Jamal?”

  DeMarcus’s jaw tightened. “Did Rick complain to you?”

  Her eyes twinkled at him. “Does Rick strike you as the kind of person who would complain to the team’s owner about the way his coach was treating him?”

  “No, but Oscar runs to you whenever the team takes a—”

  “No, he doesn’t. No one came to me. I’m the one asking the questions.”

  DeMarcus wrapped his fingers around her slender foot. Why was she questioning him? He thought she believed in him. “Are you telling me how to coach the team?”

  Jaclyn’s foot stiffened beneath his touch. “I tried that before. Remember? When I suggested you get to know the players on a more personal level. It worked with Serge. Why won’t you give Rick a chance?”

  “I don’t want you to second-guess me.”

  “I can see that.” Jaclyn sat forward and rubbed her right hand across his furrowed brow. DeMarcus fought against the soothing effect. “Relax, Guinn. I’m not second-guessing you. I’m making sure we’re on the same page.”

  “We are. We’re going to the play-offs. Trust me.”

  “I do. But I also want you to trust Rick.”

  “Rick lost his nerve. We need players with heart to take us to the postseason.” DeMarcus felt her tense under his touch when he criticized her favorite player.

  “Rick is a leader of this team. Not just by his character, but by his numbers. Something has been bothering him. What is it?”

  “Whatever it is, he can work it out on the bench.”

  “But—”

  DeMarcus stilled his hands. “Jack, we’ll make it to the play-offs. I promise.” He winked at her. “I’m planning for the Finals.”

  Jaclyn’s expression eased into a smile. “Big talker.”

  “Talk is cheap. Actions speak louder.” DeMarcus pulled Jaclyn into his arms.

  He gave his promise he’d take them to the play-offs. But he needed the team’s help to keep his word on the court. Would they come through for him? For Jaclyn? For themselves?

  16

  Gerald Bimm sat in smug silence on the other side of Jaclyn’s desk Tuesday morning. If he’d won her mother’s love, he could have been her father. The thought was unsettling. Jaclyn took a deep drink of coffee from her Monarchs mug. It didn’t remove the unpleasant taste from her mouth.

  The gleam in Gerald’s brown eyes and the air of triumph circling his wavy dark hair knotted the muscles in Jaclyn’s stomach. “Let me guess. You’ve bought Bert’s shares.”

  Gerald bared his perfect white teeth in a victorious grin. “Right the first time. Finally, we’re equal partners.”

  The bitterness in him stirred the anger in her. It was a struggle not to respond in kind. She gave Gerald’s designer bronze silk pants and champagne cashmere sweater a cursory skim. “I’m surprised you were able to afford it. Saving money was never your priority.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “My finances aren’t your concern.”

  “They are when they affect my team.”

  Gerald arched a heavy brow. “Your team?”

  “My team, whose finances you’ve nearly drained.” She crossed her legs, smoothing the purple skirt of her sweater dress over her lap.

  His eyes circled her office with subtle contempt. “We’ll recoup those losses once we relocate the team.”

  What could she say to convince him to let go of his bitterness against her family? How could she reach him? “This franchise is a Jones family legacy.”

  “It’s a Bimm family legacy, too. But your family is always trying to rewrite history. In your version, the Bimm family doesn’t exist.”

  Stay on topic. Don’t let Gerry distract you. “My mother was a Jones.”

  Gerald scowled. “So?”

  “If you truly loved her, you wouldn’t deliberately destroy something that belonged to her.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gerald’s voice was thin.

  “You loved my mother, but she married my father. That’s one of the reasons you hated him. But the Monarchs aren’t only my father’s and grandfather’s legacy. They’re part of my mother and brother as well.”

  Gerald’s eyes narrowed meanly. “You’ve been talking to Bert. Well, this has nothing to do with Lynda.”

  “Yes, it does. It probably has everything to do with my mother.” Jaclyn pushed away from her desk and strode to one of the office’s large windows. The late-morning sun danced on the Gateway Marina waters in the distance. “My mother loved this community.”

  Her grandfather had told her everything she knew about her parents, which didn’t include how Lynda Trainer-Jones felt about Brooklyn. It didn’t include a lot of things. But how could her mother not have loved this place and these people? They got into your blood and overwhelmed your senses. Everything was needed yesterday; today wasn’t fast enough. You took pride in your culture, and everyone else wanted a piece of it.

  “You Joneses are so sentimental. Sentimentality doesn’t belong in business.�
� There was a bite in Gerald’s words.

  “So you’re a cold-hearted businessman.” Jaclyn turned from the window. “Destroying the franchise has nothing to do with the way you feel about my family.”

  Gerald leaned back in the thick visitor’s chair. He’d buried his impatience and agitation and put his mask of superiority back in place. “I’m concerned with the bottom line. If that makes me a cold-hearted businessman, then that’s what I am.”

  Jaclyn counted to ten. She kept her tone flat. “And you think the franchise’s bottom line will improve if we move the team to Nevada?”

  “I already have an offer.”

  He was lying. He had to be.

  Jaclyn paced back to her chair. She needed to sit before she fell. “From whom?”

  “A corporation in Las Vegas has offered to build the Monarchs an arena. All we’d have to do is move in.” His words were muffled beneath the buzzing in her ears.

  “What’s the name of this corporation?”

  “Abbottson Investments Inc. Carville Abbottson is the CEO.”

  Jaclyn’s fingers itched to do an Internet search on the corporation and its chief executive. Did they exist? She couldn’t trust anything Gerald said. “Will the arena be ready by next season?”

  Gerald shrugged. His eyes never wavered. “They haven’t broken ground yet. They’re working on financing now.”

  They didn’t have financing? Astonishment wiped the frown from Jaclyn’s brow. Could Gerald possibly be serious? “What are the contract terms?”

  He crossed his legs. “Abbottson’s coming in next week to discuss those.”

  Jaclyn blinked. “You scheduled a meeting with him without first consulting me?”

  “I’m consulting you now.”

  Jaclyn lifted her right fingers, counting their unanswered questions. “Abbottson doesn’t know how he’s going to finance the arena. He doesn’t know when the arena will open, and you don’t know the contract terms. That’s a lot of unknowns. Are you ad-libbing this or are you seriously considering this offer?”

  Gerald’s grin was mean around the edges. “You can ask him yourself.”

  “Wake up, Gerry. Abbottson didn’t give you an offer. He expressed an interest.”