Homecourt Advantage (10 page)

Casey covered her ears as she tried to adjust to the thunderous noise throughout the arena. Her mood did not match her festive surroundings. She was having a difficult time joining the excitement. Picking Diamond off her seat, Casey sat down and tenderly placed the little girl on her lap. She began to absentmindedly stroke her back, feeling sorry for the confusion Kelly put her innocent little girl through. Kelly barely noticed that she had moved the child. Casey felt like a small child herself, vulnerable, scared, and needy as the din roared around her.

“Get up, girl,” Remy said, leaning down and shouting into Casey’s ears. “They’re about to introduce your man; just cheer for the jerk since you’re here. Come on, Casey!”

Placing Diamond on her hip as she stood, Casey felt light-headed. She was standing there pretending to cheer on the outside, and inside feeling torn apart.

Casey gazed at Brent across the court as he jumped up and down in excited anticipation. She watched him in the shiny purple and black sweats that clung like glue to his rock-solid body. Everything about Brent looked completely manly to her. Even though she was angry with him, she still saw him as looking divine with hisclean-shaven head and gorgeous body. In honor of the play-offs, most of the guys on the team had shaved their heads in a symbolic act of camaraderie.

Sensing her staring at him, Brent looked at her across the court and blew a kiss. Casey obligatorily nodded her head and gave him the thumbs-up as the Flyers spotlight landed on a huddle of the guys.

Although Casey would have thought it impossible, the music was turned up another notch as the Flyers veteran announcer, Bud Zanny, prepared to introduce New York City’s beloved team. Even Diamond knew the routine and started to shout, “Go Flyers Go!”

“Introducing your starting lineup!” Bud’s trademark animated voice bellowed above the roar of the crowd.

“At point guard, in his fourth season out of Howard University … your cocaptain …
Paaauuul Thooommasl
At shooting guard, in his rookie year out of Stanford …
Michaaaeeel Broooooum!”

Casey covered her ears, the screams were so loud for Michael, the lady-killer. He got as many cheers as Brent and he was only a rookie. The joke was that all of the little girls, teenyboppers, and college ladies came to see him and that all of the women came to watch Collin DuMott, the smooth operator.

“At center, in his fifth season, out of Georgia Tech …
Steeeeve Tuuucker!
And at small forward, in his eighth season in the NBA, out of Arkansas State …
Coooolliiin DuuuuuuuuMott!”

Casey watched as the starting players ran through the area cleared by the nonstarting players. They gave each other high fives and they bumped chests in their “man’s man” ritual. Even though the game had not yet begun, sweat flew from the players onto the hungry front-row fans.

Casey listened to the drum roll that always embarrassed Brent. It was the precursor to the team’s All-Star Olympian being introduced, and it never failed to make the crowd go absolutely wild.

“Last but definitely not least, at power forward, your team captain, in his ninth year out of Duke University with the New York Flyers …
Brent Rooooooogers!”

Casey watched as Brent ran through the line, both arms up in theair and the
number one
sign on each hand extended to the sky. If the energy in the arena was intense before his introduction, it was flat-out electric as all of the Flyers formed a huddle around Brent. All of their naked heads were bent forward, pressing against each other as if in prayer.

Casey sat back down and let the game begin. For her, it was already in progress.

Dawn Simpson stared vacantly out the backseat
window of the chauffeur-driven sedan en route to the Mecca. She desperately hoped the puffiness around her eyes from her crying earlier had gone down. She scarcely noticed the spectacular New York City skyline as the car smoothly traversed the George Washington Bridge. She was running late and was surprised that she had even mustered the energy to attend the game after her tumultuous day with Michael. If she was lucky, she would make it to the arena by the end of the second quarter.

As Dawn ran her fingers through her hair, it seemed that nothing was going right for her except her work at Good Samaritan Hospital, where she was a first-year resident in psychiatry. This was one of the most sought-after residencies in medicine. Of course, Michael’s schedule had played a part in her choice since once she completed her residency, she would have normal hours and not be on call in the traditional sense. This way she wouldhave more time for Michael. Sometimes Dawn wondered if she’d made the right decision.

She could still feel the frustration coursing through her from their earlier run-in. Recently it seemed as if every comment she made to him resulted in an argument. Dawn shook her head thinking how different things had become between them since he’d been drafted by the Flyers and they’d experienced all that accompanied it. Again she thought of marriage. Then she remembered a disconcerting conversation from the previous summer.

It was during the Flyers’ postseason annual trip to the Bahamas—sort of a bonus from Hirshfield, even though they hadn’t won the championship. This had been Dawn’s first opportunity to spend time with Casey, Lorraine, Remy, Trina, and Kelly. The women had all been sunbathing on the white-sand beach at the Ocean Club on Paradise Island when the subject of marriage among the NBA couples came up. Michael had just proposed to her the month before, and Dawn was still floating.

Now Dawn remembered Kelly’s drunken laughter between gulps of strawberry daiquiris.

“Girl, guys in the NBA only get engaged to put off marriage. Sometimes they even break down and let their fiancées live with them. Of course, if they allow this, it tacks on another two years to the running engagement. And if the player is a rookie and he gets engaged, forget about it. Rookies don’t ever get married during their first year,” Kelly had cackled before finishing off her drink.

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right about the rookies,” Casey had interjected, addressing Dawn directly. “The young guys, especially those on a hot team, seem to only have time for basketball and endorsements. And, of course, nightclubs on the road and signing autographs anywhere and everywhere.”

“Yeah, but can you really blame them?” Remy had said, sitting up on her towel and lifting up her Christian Dior sunglasses. “They’re young kids with the world at their feet. It’s a heady position to be in. I know when I had my first hit with Atlantic Records, nobody could tell me anything. I just knew I was all that and then some. They just have to get it out of their system and have some fun with their newstatus. Believe me, for most of them it will pass and they’ll find out that all the hype and glamour in the world can’t replace a meaningful relationship.”

“Unfortunately, sometimes it takes too long for them to realize this, and by then they’ve lost the one person who genuinely cared about them,” Casey had said, turning over onto her stomach.

At the time, Dawn had been certain that Michael was different from the rest of the guys. She believed their relationship was special, above the problems that these other troubled couples might experience.

Love had always been so real between Dawn and Michael. They were in complete sync with one another. Dawn had been in her sixth year of Inteflex, an accelerated program compressing undergrad and medical school into seven years. She had just begun her “shadowing” of doctors during their rotations, and at the time, Michael had been a patient suffering from a severe bacterial sinus infection.

Dawn softly chuckled thinking about Michael that autumn afternoon one week after she first met him, swearing he was dying from an ingrown fingernail.

“Doc, I’ve got something I need your help with,” Michael had said, holding his right forefinger as if he were in excruciating pain.

Dawn had not realized that he was asking for her assistance until one of her classmates eating with her in the cafeteria nudged Dawn’s arm. They had all begun to feel like real doctors wearing their white coats.

“What can I do for you?” Dawn had asked him, slightly confused.

“You’re really going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?” Michael had said, looking flustered.

“Make what hard for you?” Dawn had answered, still confused.

“I’ve been trying to track you down all week, ever since I first came into the emergency room,” Michael had said, inching closer to the table.

Dawn had realized that the finger was a ruse—he wanted to ask her for a date. Although she was not opposed to interracial dating, it would be a new experience for her. She was mostly shocked that Stanford’s star basketball player would be interested in her. As far as shecould tell, they were total opposites, from their social circles to their career paths to the color of their skin.

None of these differences had seemed to matter to Michael. He had pursued her relentlessly, showing up at the hospital on various excuses for six weeks straight until she finally relented and went out with him. In reality, the numerous lunches they’d shared in the hospital cafeteria were more than enough to convince Dawn that she was thoroughly moved by Michael Brown.

Michael had been majoring in biology and he displayed a sincere interest in Dawn’s work and her personal life. They had become friends, and the potential to become lovers had hovered over their every conversation and debate.

She had felt an immediate and unexpected attraction toward Michael. Dawn thought him incredibly handsome. He’d reminded her of a younger, taller version of Denzel Washington.

Dawn thought back fondly to how their interactions at Stanford had been charged with an undercurrent of sexual energy, mutual respect, and mutual desire to be together. Wow, how times have changed, Dawn thought as the sedan slowed down.

“Right by the purple awning will be fine,” Dawn said to the driver, leaning forward, directing him to the VIP entrance of the Mecca.

“You’re kind of late for the game, aren’t you, miss?” the driver asked as she pulled the door handle to exit the vehicle.

“Am I?” Dawn said over her shoulder as she headed toward the entrance.

There was definitely a change in Michael’s behavior of late; Dawn could not lie to herself about it. She knew he was under a tremendous amount of pressure right now and she should cut him some slack, but there was a strain in their relationship. She wanted to believe he was still trying. Dawn thought about earlier that day when he’d left the apartment in a huff and had come back to kiss and make up. Even though they had fooled around and cuddled for a couple of hours, still it felt vacant to her, as if he were doing her a favor or paying penance by giving her a few extra moments of his precious time.

Or was she being too harsh? It was all so confusing, Dawn’s head felt as if it were about to explode. Maybe she needed to just relax and

stop obsessing over it. Michael was her man and one day they were going to get married. Period.

Dawn reminded herself that she had a couple of days off from work coming up in the next few weeks. Maybe she’d join him on a road trip; it might be just what she and Michael needed, some quality time alone together. Dawn envisioned them in a hotel together relaxing, no phones ringing. She would make the suggestion to him after the game, hopefully over a victory dinner.

As Dawn entered the empty Family Lounge, she glanced at one of the numerous television monitors that broadcast the game and noticed that the first half of the game had just ended. The score flashed on the screen. The Flyers were blowing Philadelphia away by twenty points. She knew this would make Michael happy.

Dawn was starving. She prepared herself a plate and then found a seat before the hordes of people returned to the room for halftime. Although she had become friendly with some of the wives—and of course, Casey Rogers and Lorraine Thomas had been by far the kindest—the other mates were standoffish, even accounting for her erratic work schedule. She admitted to herself she could try a bit harder to fit in.

She knew that some of them resented her because she was white. She had overheard on more than one occasion whispered conversations not meant for her. “I get tired of all our professional single brothers getting snatched up by white chicks, gettin’ our men to slave away for them.” Of course, the offending party would qualify the statement: “Dawn, you know we’re not talking about you; you’re different. We know you really love Michael and you got your own thang goin’ on.” Dawn often wondered how they could know anything about her. When she mentioned the incidents to Michael, he dismissed them as gossip.

Seated at one of the round tables, Dawn began stuffing herself with skewers of broiled shrimp and fusilli tossed with vegetables. Soon the room began to fill around her. Flyers family members and friends began to convene around the bar for refills in anticipation of a victory. Dawn only recognized a few of the faces. She knew that a lot of the

players’ relatives flew in for the play-offs. Michael’s parents planned on coming to town if the team advanced to the next round.

Robin Stillman, the assistant coach’s wife, with her stiffly sprayed hair, approached the table where Dawn was sitting and flopped down next to her, making the air escape from her chair cushion. Her hair did not budge.

“Hey, Robin. How’s it going?” Dawn asked, realizing her mistake too late.

Robin Stillman was the official Flyers gossip queen; worse, she was like Alexis’s lapdog. She kept abreast of everyone’s business on the team and sometimes created business when none was there. Robin was more concerned with other people’s affairs than her own.

“Giiiirrrl, I didn’t see you in your seats. You know Alexis is going to have something to say about you being late.”

“Well, I’m going to try to make it up and catch a couple of the away games, maybe in the next round—when they make it. I have some days off from work coming up.”

The woman positively stared at her. “Dawn, I realize that this is only your first year here, but you can’t be serious about going to an away game, especially during the play-offs. You should know by now that it’s against team policy for the wives to go on the road, unless, of course, we make it to the finals. You’re just asking for trouble.”