by Regina Hart
Jamal’s feet left the ground. The guard soared toward the basket. He slammed the ball through the net: 86, 77, Knicks. The Garden rocked as Monarchs faithful thundered their approval. Thirty-eight seconds to go in the third quarter.
DeMarcus clapped his players on as they raced to defend their basket. “Keep up the pressure. Get on your man. Talk to each other.”
The Knicks’ Chandler took possession of the ball, passing it to Mosgov. Knicks looked to slow the pace. Monarchs circled like vultures waiting to feed. Thirty seconds in the third quarter, seventeen seconds on the shot clock.
Mosgov passed the ball to the Knicks’ Stoudemire. Warrick leaped into the passing lane and grabbed the ball from the air. He sprinted to the Monarchs’ basket, pulling up at the perimeter for an uncontested three-point shot: 86, 80, Knicks. Another basket from Serge and a three-point shot from Anthony brought the Monarchs to within one, 86 to 85.
DeMarcus remained tense. The Monarchs had taken the Knicks for twelve unanswered points. Could they keep up the pace?
Twenty-two seconds remained in the third quarter. With the Knicks’ lead draining, their head coach called for a twenty-second time-out. The Monarchs walked off the court.
DeMarcus met them at the sideline. “Keep up the pace. You can’t slow down. Stay strong on the defense.” DeMarcus claimed Warrick’s attention. “Good start. Now turn up the heat.”
DeMarcus saw the fire in Warrick’s eyes. The shooting guard was winning the mental game.
They’d barely begun to discuss their defense when the buzzer sounded.
The Knicks’ Walker inbounded the ball to Mosgov. The Knicks’ center snaked his way to the basket. When he came up against Jamal near the post, the rookie gave him a hard hit with his right shoulder. The whistle sounded. Jamal earned his fifth foul with twelve seconds left to the third quarter. One more foul and he’d be out of the game.
Mosgov made both free throws, lifting the score to 88 to 85. DeMarcus paced the sideline.
Serge grabbed the ball. He bounced it to Vincent. Vincent drove the ball past midcourt. Warrick signaled for the pass. The center flung it to him. Warrick danced back as the Knicks’ defense charged forward. Shooting redemption from his fingertips, Warrick scored a three-point basket. The Monarchs tied the score with the Knicks at 88. The buzzer sounded, heralding the fourth and final quarter.
Win or go home.
With fire in his eyes and salvation in his hands, Warrick dragged his team through the back-and-forth brawl to redeem their season. The lead changed five times in fourteen minutes. DeMarcus watched the veteran transform before him. Warrick played like an athlete possessed. He grabbed rebounds, hurled passes and shot three-pointers like fire from his fingers.
The game clock wound down to sixteen seconds. Stoudemire’s shot punched the Knicks to the lead, 100 to 98.
Warrick jumped for the ball. The Knicks’ Stoudemire deflected his pass to Vincent. DeMarcus felt his Monarchs’ thirst for victory as Warrick leaped forward, clawing for the ball. Stoudemire chased him down. Both players fell to the court in a tangle of arms and legs. The referees blew the whistle.
Jump ball.
Eight seconds remained on the game clock. The Knicks lined up on the left, Monarchs on the right. DeMarcus bent his legs, willing Warrick to win the battle of ascensions. The ref blew the whistle, tossed the basketball into the air and stepped back. Warrick leaped, body stretching, arm straining. His large hand smacked the ball just out of Stoudemire’s reach. Anthony and the Knicks’ Chandler tussled for position. Chandler ripped the ball from Anthony’s hands.
Vincent joined Anthony in pursuit of the ball from behind. Jamal intercepted Chandler from the front. With a flick of his wrist, the rookie stole the ball and hustled up the court.
Four seconds to the buzzer.
Jamal landed on the perimeter line. DeMarcus held his breath. The rookie pulled up. He tossed the ball to Warrick far beyond the perimeter.
One second to the buzzer.
The veteran saved the ball in one hand—and sent a rainbow to the net. The arena went silent. DeMarcus didn’t breathe. He tracked the ball from Warrick’s hand. It sailed a high arc to the Knicks’ basket.
Three points.
The arena exploded. The Monarchs had stolen the win, 101 to 100.
DeMarcus raised both fists in the air and threw his head back. He looked up at the visiting owner’s box, at Jaclyn and his father. They were hugging and jumping like little kids at Christmas. As he watched, they separated to look at the court. His father waved. He waved back. He couldn’t see Jaclyn’s features clearly, but he could see her grin. He thought she’d blown a kiss. Then she turned and grabbed his father in another bear hug.
DeMarcus met Mike D’Antoni, the Knicks’ head coach, in the middle of the court. “Good game, Coach. You gave us a scare.” Then he savored the words, “We’ll see you in the play-offs.”
Althea raced into her office. The sight of her painfully professional administrative assistant engaged in such undignified behavior stopped Jaclyn midsentence.
“Jackie, get off the phone. Now.” Althea leaned over her desk to issue the order. Her hair was mussed. Her eyes were wild. Her cheeks were flushed.
Jaclyn could feel the other woman’s breath puffing against her face. “Vi, I’ve got to call you back.” Jaclyn stood as she recradled the phone. Her pulse was beating in her throat. “What’s happened?”
“Elia’s been trying to reach you. Marc’s agent’s in his office talking to him right now about an opening with the Knicks’ coaching staff.”
Jaclyn had already circled her desk and was racing to her door. She cursed her stilettos for slowing her down. Then she cursed the elevators for doing the same. Minutes later, she tried to run past Elia’s desk. The diminutive woman threw herself in front of Jaclyn and held a finger to her lips.
DeMarcus’s executive assistant motioned Jaclyn to the door. Surprisingly, it had been left open a few inches. Was that by chance or did Elia have a habit of eavesdropping? Jaclyn tiptoed closer and strained to hear the conversation inside.
DeMarcus chuckled. “You won’t change my mind, Chris.”
Another man’s voice, presumably Chris, responded. “The Monarchs are paying you peanuts. I told you when they first came knocking on your door, you should walk away from their offer. You deserve more money.”
“And I told you, it wasn’t about the money.”
“It should always be about the money.” Chris is annoyingly persistent.
“I’m happy with what I’m making now.” Jaclyn knew that wasn’t true. She remembered his comment about being paid minimum wage. Obviously, the Mighty Guinn didn’t know what minimum wage was. But why would he lie to his agent?
“I can get you at least five percent more with the Knicks—and that’s for an assistant coaching spot. More money, less stress. Who wouldn’t want that?”
Jaclyn held her breath.
“My contract is up in July. You can renegotiate for more money then.”
She exhaled.
“Marc, be realistic. The Monarchs aren’t going to be able to offer you five percent more than what you’re making now. They’re cash strapped and watching every penny.” Chris made the Monarchs sound like the church mice of the NBA. She disliked him intensely.
“I’m not going to change my mind. Tell the Knicks thanks, but no thanks. Then renegotiate my Monarchs contract for more money. I don’t care how much more, even if it’s only half of a percent.”
“Half of a percent?” Chris sounded like he was having a stroke. “What’s the point of that?”
“The point is I like it here. I like the organization. I like the players, and I like the promise. I’m not interested in leaving.”
Jaclyn lost her breath. Those words made her so happy. She felt as though she’d already won the finals and was holding the trophy. She blinked away tears.
Chris spoke again after a beat of silence. The guy was working Jaclyn’s last nerve. “This is about Jackie Jone
s, isn’t it? She’s a beautiful woman and I understand you don’t want to lose her. But it’s not as though you’d be leaving the city. You’d just be a couple of subway stops apart. It wouldn’t hurt your relationship if you worked for the Knicks. In fact, it could help your relationship if you didn’t work together.”
“If this were just about Jack, I would leave. But, as I said, I like the team. I’m staying here.”
Jaclyn had heard enough. She pushed open DeMarcus’s door and confronted the startled men. DeMarcus stood.
She nodded at the pudgy middle-aged man in the visitor’s seat before DeMarcus’s desk. “Chris Carl? I’m Jaclyn Jones.” The agent’s face flamed red as he got to his feet and shook Jaclyn’s hand. “Please stop trying to pilfer my head coach. He’s made it clear that he likes peanuts.”
Chris’s face glowed even brighter. “I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Jones.”
“Jackie.” She folded her hands in front of her.
Chris nodded. “Jackie.” He glanced at DeMarcus. “See you later, Marc.”
Jaclyn watched the flustered man stride from DeMarcus’s office.
DeMarcus put his hands in the front pockets of his mustard Dockers. He studied the back of Jaclyn’s head and the riot of black curls swinging around her shoulders. “Were you listening at the door?”
She turned to face him. Her grin was unrepentant. “Of course.”
DeMarcus ran his hand over his hair. What did this mean? “I was going to tell you about the Knicks’ offer.”
“I think you need new representation.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What kind of an agent brings you an offer of a new job while you’re sitting in your office? That’s not very bright.”
DeMarcus searched her eyes. She didn’t seem angry. “Chris isn’t a bad guy. He wants what’s best for me and realizes my current salary doesn’t accurately reflect my worth.”
“No, it doesn’t. You put what matters most to you—your reputation and your family’s name—at risk to bring the Monarchs a winning season. You got us to the play-offs.” Jaclyn smiled that special smile that touched his heart.
DeMarcus swallowed. He’d waited a long time for that smile. Too long. “Does that mean you’re open for negotiation?”
She stepped closer, circling his desk. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“You said you like the organization and you like the players. How do you feel about the owners?” She stopped in front of him.
DeMarcus arched a brow. “I can’t stand Gerry.”
“What about me?” Jaclyn’s words were breathy and unsure.
“I’m in love with you.” DeMarcus’s voice was husky with restrained emotions.
Jaclyn closed her eyes briefly. She gripped his elbows as she swayed on her sexy stilettos. When she opened her eyes, they were damp. “I’m in love with you, too.”
DeMarcus removed his hands from his pockets and settled them on her slender waist. He wished that it was as simple as “I love you,” but it hadn’t been before. “What about separating our personal and professional lives?” He held his hands up. “I know I can sometimes be a control freak, but I don’t mean to undermine your independence. I can learn to make decisions with you instead of for you. Just give me a chance.”
Jaclyn smiled. “I know you’re only overbearing because you love me.”
DeMarcus frowned. “Is there a compliment in there?”
Her cool hand cupped his jaw. “You’re a strong, courageous man who’s willing to sacrifice a lot for the people he cares about, but never his integrity. What’s not to love?”
“Did my winning that final game prove how much I love you?”
Jaclyn laughed and punched his arm. “Don’t be stupid. Your choosing to stay with the Monarchs and work for me rather than going to the Knicks proved you love me—all of me. In and out of the arena.”
Her words and the love in her eyes meant more to him than all of the trophies, honors and awards he’d ever earned. DeMarcus cleared his throat. “I can survive losing a lot of things, but I can’t lose you.”
Jaclyn lowered her hand to his shoulder. “We’re going to continue to butt heads over decisions with the team and with the franchise.”
“For a very long time.”
Jaclyn nodded. “But it’ll be worth it. And we’ll make it work. We’re both too stubborn to fail.”
“That’s because we’re both champions, and champions never give up.” DeMarcus lowered his mouth to Jaclyn’s soft lips. Victory had never tasted so sweet.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2011 by Patricia Sargeant-Matthews
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7202-7
