Keeping Score (31 page)

She gestured to both sets of parents. “My parents are paying us a surprise visit.”

Warrick’s brows jumped up his forehead. “All the way from San Francisco? That’s quite a surprise.” He glanced at Terrell and Celeste. In their formal clothes, they looked ready for a board of trustees’ meeting for one of the organizations that benefited from their support. What was behind this impulse trip?

“That’s right.” Marilyn’s smile was tight around the edges. “And, by happy coincidence, your parents came by to see you.”

With an effort, Warrick kept an even tone. “Yes, that’s great.” How many socially acceptable lies was a person allowed in one day?

Celeste managed a delicate snort of disbelief. “Don’t worry. Terrell and I aren’t staying long. We’re just here to bring our daughter home.”

Shock cut through him. “My wife
is
home.”

Warrick’s words were the reflexive response of a man determined to hold on to the one he loved. But were they true? Where were he and Marilyn going? He might not have known, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to answer that question.

Marilyn searched his eyes, a question and a wish in hers. But he no longer knew without a doubt that their wishes were the same.

Celeste gave him a cool look. “Marilyn has the opportunity of a prestigious position with a well-respected hospital in San Francisco.”

“What does she have here?” Terrell looked around the family room as though searching for an answer. “She lost her job because of you. Is she supposed to sit at home while you father children with other women?”

“That’s a little bit of the pot calling out the kettle, isn’t it, Terrell?” Celeste’s laughter was light and brief but with a noticeable edge. “Charming.”

Terrell chose silence in response to his wife’s mockery. His cheeks bloomed bright red under his dark brown skin. A look of pain crossed Marilyn’s delicate features. Warrick wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“How dare you speak to my son that way.”

Warrick was distracted by his mother’s angry words. Kerri’s knuckles were white from the tight-fisted grip on her navy purse strap. He released Marilyn and crossed to his mother. Cupping her elbow, Warrick tugged her toward the sofa. “Mom, why don’t you sit down?”

John Evans’s raised voice almost overpowered Warrick’s request. “Don’t blame my son for that hospital firing your daughter. Rick had nothing to do with that.”

“He had everything to do with it.” Celeste’s neck strained forward from the high collar of her dark blue jacket. “His irresponsible behavior reflected poorly on Marilyn’s judgment to marry him. It cost her the job with the hospital and the partnership with the clinic owners.”

Kerri strained against Warrick’s hold on her arm and jabbed her index finger toward Celeste. “Small-minded people like you cost Mary those opportunities, not my son. Get it right.”

“Do you think an irresponsible man would be able to afford a house like this?” John spread his arms to encompass their surroundings. “Would an irresponsible man become a success in the NBA, leading his team to the finals?”

Warrick stared in disbelief at the older couple flanking him. Who were these people? They looked like his parents. They sounded like his parents. But he never would have believed their words had come from his parents.

Celeste scoffed. “Behind every great man is a woman. Your son was lucky to find a woman as accomplished and intelligent as my daughter to help him.”

His mother tugged against his hold again. Warrick held on for dear life. He was careful not to hurt Kerri, but he envisioned terrible things happening if he let her go.

Kerri jerked a thumb over her shoulder at him. “My son graduated magna cum laude.”

Terrell grunted. “From Rutgers. Marilyn graduated from Stanford. It’s a top five school. I think
he
got the better deal.”

“Undoubtedly.” Celeste adjusted the navy strap of her Coach purse more securely on her shoulder. “Marilyn, are you coming with us or not?”

“I’m not, Mother. I’ve told you before. This is my home and I’m staying here with my husband.” Marilyn’s response was quiet, her tone inflexible.

“What are you saying?” Celeste hissed the question. “He’s ruined your career. He’s ruining your life. You need to get away from him and get your life in order.”

“My life is in order.” Marilyn arched a brow. “Can you say the same about yours?”

Celeste gasped. “How dare you?”

Marilyn’s gaze shifted from her mother to her father and back. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mother. I won’t pass judgment on your marriage if you’ll stop judging mine.”

Terrell’s eyes widened. “You told her?”

Celeste grabbed her husband’s upper arm. “We’re leaving.”

With her head held high, Celeste dragged Terrell from the family room. Within moments, Warrick heard the front door open, then slam shut.

Warrick was still staring at his parents, who now seemed like strangers to him. He glanced at Marilyn. Her eyes were clouded by sadness. But she gave him an encouraging smile as though prompting him to prolong this rare positive experience with his parents.

He cleared his throat. “Mom? Dad?”

“What?” John’s response was characteristically brusque. He stared into the hallway as though expecting Celeste and Terrell to reappear.

Kerri tugged against his hold. “Let me go. I’m not some feeble old woman.”

That quickly, everything returned to normal. Warrick released his mother’s elbow. “I had no idea you were proud of me.”

“Of course we are.” John gave up his vigilant watch over the hallway.

In his peripheral vision, Warrick saw Marilyn shake her head.

“I guess I should have read that in between your telling me Marlon Burress was making a fool of me and I was failing the team.” Warrick couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his tone.

John shrugged. “I’m hard on you because I don’t want you to become complacent. You’re in the NBA. Great. But that shouldn’t be the end of it.”

Kerri finally sat in the nearby armchair. She cradled her purse in her lap. “Other people can feed your ego—your fans, the media, Mary.” His mother sent a smile in his wife’s direction before returning her attention to him.

Warrick dragged a hand across his forehead. “You may not have noticed, Mom, but the fans and the media haven’t exactly been kind lately.”

Kerri’s brows knitted. “That’s true. Still, as your parents, it’s our job to keep you grounded and remind you that you’re not perfect.”

“I never thought I was. I’m thirty-four years old. I probably never will be.”

His mother rose from the chair and crossed to him. She cupped his cheek with her hand. “But you’re pretty darn close.”

Warrick gave her a wry smile. “Any chance you and Dad could ease up on me?”

Kerri dropped her hand and turned to her husband. “John?”

His father gave him a curt nod. “But don’t let the championship ring go to your head. Come on, Kerri. Let’s go home.”

Warrick walked with his parents to the front door. He sensed Marilyn following behind him. “We’ve only played two games against the Nuggets and we split those wins.”

“Work harder.” John tossed the command over his shoulder.

Warrick smiled at his parent’s standard response. “Thanks, Dad.”

The encounter was surreal. All of his life, his parents had made him feel as though he wasn’t good enough. Today, he learned they were trying to keep him from getting an ego. They’d done their job almost too well.

Once he and Marilyn had bid his parents farewell, Warrick locked the front door and turned to her. “What are the odds of our parents coming to our house at the same time?”

“Your mother said she hadn’t heard from you in a week. You weren’t returning her calls.”

He evaded the question in her eyes. “And your parents?”

She shrugged. “My mother probably thought she’d have more influence over me if she made a personal appearance.”

“She underestimated you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s true.”

Her parents had underestimated Marilyn when they thought they could forbid her from marrying him. Almost three years later, they were still miscalculating the strength of her will. Her parents, her best friend, even the hospital and the clinic partners had tried to come between them. But Marilyn had stood by him despite all of that pressure.

Wasn’t that evidence that their love was enough? How much more proof did she need?

Marilyn tilted her head and offered him a smile. “Congratulations.”

Warrick straightened from the door. “We lost Friday.”

“You won Wednesday. Game one on Denver’s home court. You looked unstoppable.”

He offered her a smile. “Denver underestimated us.”

Marilyn gestured to his empty hands. “You’re not carrying a bag.”

“I’ve come to get some more of my things.” He steeled himself against the surprise in her chocolate eyes.

“I’d hoped you were moving back in.”

“I don’t think either of us is ready for that.”

He’d check out of the hotel yesterday. Julian Guinn’s home was the perfect place for him to clear his mind. It was free of distractions, especially since the elder Guinn spent a lot of time with his girlfriend, Althea Gentry.

Warrick felt her eyes on him as he mounted the stairs. He knew he was taking a risk. Marilyn had a point that the media invasion and the fans’ intrusions put a lot of pressure on their relationship. Maybe he should retire, but he didn’t want to make that decision under pressure.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Warrick pulled a suitcase from the guest room closet. He brought it down the hallway to the master bedroom and filled it with clothes and personal items. He packed quickly, then returned downstairs.

Marilyn met him at the foot of the staircase. She laid her hand on his arm. “Rick, I’ve never stopped believing in you, no matter what you think. What can I do to convince you to give me another chance?”

Warrick looked down into her eyes. “That’s up to you, Mary. Can you handle being a celebrity’s wife?”

Marilyn removed her hand. “Let’s get through this season.”

Warrick stepped back. “That’s not enough for me. I need to know I can have forever with you. All or nothing, Mary.”

He turned to leave before the look in her eyes, the touch of her hand, the scent of her skin made him change his mind.

22

Marilyn listened to every word of the radio talk show host’s interview with Jordan Hyatt on Monday afternoon. She’d had enough of the chitchat.
Get to the meat of the program.

She wiped her palms on her denim shorts. Restless steps carried her around her family room. The maple flooring was warm under her bare feet. Her heart reverberated in her chest. Was it nerves or anger? Both?

“When and where did you meet Rick Evans?” LaMarr Green asked with easy camaraderie.

Finally!

Marilyn started another loop of the room. How had Susan persuaded her high school friend to arrange this interview so quickly? In less than a week, she and the other members of the Monarchs Wives Club had devised this plan and were ready to execute it. Now she had to remember all the tips her friends had given her—speak confidently, stick to the script, don’t lose control.

“Ricky and I met at a gas station eight months ago. It was after the Monarchs’ first regular season home game.” Jordan Hyatt’s voice was as breathless as an adolescent with her first real crush. “I helped him figure out how to open his gas tank.”

What?
Marilyn jerked to a stop. She stared at the black stereo system perched on the silver and glass entertainment center. Warrick had bought his BMW sedan more than five years ago. She’d seen him fill his gas tank hundreds of times—without help.

“Really?” LaMarr seemed skeptical. “That sounds like a scene from
Just Wright,
that basketball romance movie starring Queen Latifah and Common.”

Jordan giggled. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Yes, it does.
Marilyn wasn’t amused. She hugged her arms around herself. “Ask her how many times she’s seen that film.”

Unable to hear Marilyn, LaMarr continued. “You don’t look pregnant.”

“It’s still a bit early in my pregnancy.” Jordan’s response was demur.

“How far along are you?”

“Just three months.”

“And how are you feeling? Any morning sickness?” LaMarr sounded like a concerned friend. If Marilyn didn’t know better, she’d think the two of them were lifelong pals. Any minute now, LaMarr would offer her milk and cookies.

“No, none.” Jordan giggled again.

The sound set Marilyn’s teeth on edge. She grabbed the cordless telephone receiver from the end table and punched in the radio show’s telephone number. She turned off her stereo and waited for the call to connect.

Was Warrick listening to the program? God, she hoped not. He didn’t pay attention to sports writers or broadcasters during the season. He considered them too much of a distraction. She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about that now. The possibility of his hearing what she was about to do made her even more nervous.

Marilyn jumped as the program host answered the phone.

“Good Monday afternoon. You’re on the air with the
LaMarr Green Show
. Who’s on the line?”

Marilyn swallowed the lump in her throat.
Speak confidently.
“Hello, LaMarr. This is Mary from Brooklyn.”

“Hi, Mary from Brooklyn.” LaMarr’s voice radiated goodwill down the phone line. Nothing in his tone gave away that this call-in had been planned. “What’s your question for our guest?”

LaMarr’s enthusiasm gave her confidence. Marilyn wiggled her bare toes against the floor and took a long, deep breath. “Ms. Hyatt, you’ve said you’ve seen Rick Evans’s tattoo. It’s on his hip. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right. And, please, call me Jordan, Mary.” Jordan sounded as self-assured as Marilyn was straining to be.

Marilyn shivered in revulsion. She stared blindly across the family room toward the hallway. “Which hip?”

“His right one, next to his hip bone.” Jordan’s voice grew husky.

Marilyn wanted to reach into the phone and slap Jordan Hyatt’s face. Instead, she fisted her hand, forcing herself to lull her prey into a false sense of security. “Is that the only tattoo he has?”