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Authors: Regina Hart

BOOK: Fast Break
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“Which some people would think is enough.”
“Andrea Benson isn't going to cover the story.”
“Good for her. But she isn't the only sports reporter in the city.” Julian's words were clipped with exasperation. “Call Jackie. Now.”
DeMarcus rinsed the sponge and cleaned the stove top. “She's having dinner with a girlfriend. They're discussing the Empire.” He turned away from the stove. His muscles tensed. “Besides, I can handle this.”
“I know you can. That's not the point.” Julian crossed to the kitchen table and lowered onto a seat. “Jackie needs to know about Gerry's threats. They affect her and her team just as much as they affect you.”
“I know. And I'll tell her but not tonight.”
“Why not?”
DeMarcus rinsed the sponge again and set it on the board beside the sink. “Jack's dealing with enough, trying to keep the team in the Empire and finding a way to prevent Gerry from moving the franchise to Nevada.”
“Nevada,” Julian muttered. “I still can't believe that.”
“Yeah. Well, Gerry has his own agenda.”
Julian sat back in his chair. “What's your agenda?”
DeMarcus's back stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Why don't you want to tell Jackie what's going on?”
DeMarcus leaned his hips against the kitchen counter and crossed his legs at his ankles. He should have known his father would see through him. No one knew him better. “I don't want to lose Jack's faith in me. I don't want to lose her trust.”
Julian looked startled. “Jackie would never believe you were addicted to drugs.”
DeMarcus pushed away from the counter to wander the kitchen. “I know that.”
“Then what is it?”
DeMarcus paused. He took a deep breath, a preamble to stating his fears. “I don't want her to ever have a reason to look at me differently.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The next time I lose a game, will she wonder if I've lost on purpose because of Gerry's threats?” DeMarcus met his father's gaze, hoping he had the answer.
Julian's frown cleared. “Jackie knows what kind of man Gerry is and what kind of man you are. The last time Gerry tried to pull you into his scheme, you quit.”
DeMarcus turned to cross the kitchen again. He needed a stronger guarantee. “I don't want her to ever doubt me. Not even for a minute. And I don't want to ever wonder if she does.”
“Why are you worried? If you tell her the truth, she won't have a reason to doubt you.”
But Jaclyn knew how important his image and family name were to him. The truth was, knowing that, she had every reason to doubt him.
How could he convince her he was willing to risk everything he was to give her all that she wanted and more?
 
 
“We need to talk.”
Jaclyn looked up as Troy Marshall strode into her office Thursday morning, followed by Andrea Benson. They looked as serious as though they were going to announce the NBA was disbanding in the middle of the season.
She set down her pen and gave them her full attention. “What's wrong?”
Troy stepped aside to allow Andrea to precede him. He pulled Jaclyn's office door shut and approached her desk. The media executive was coatless. His pale gold shirt was tucked into navy blue pants, but the sleeves were rolled to his elbows. His copper-colored tie was loosened. Troy didn't usually achieve this level of disarray until late in the afternoon.
He pressed his fists into the top of one of Jaclyn's black visitor's chairs. “Andy got a call from a drug dealer claiming to be Marc's supplier.”
Jaclyn wasn't following. “Marc who?”
Troy held her gaze. “DeMarcus Guinn. Our head coach.”
Jaclyn's eyes widened. Her thoughts scattered and everything flashed white. “What?”
Troy shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “I take it you haven't spoken to him yet.”
Jaclyn's gaze bounced from Troy to Andrea before dropping to her Rolex. It was just after eight o'clock in the morning. She and DeMarcus hadn't seen each other after work last night, but she knew he'd been in his office for at least an hour. He always arrived between six-thirty and seven o'clock in the morning.
Get it together, Jones. This isn't the time or the place to freak out.
Jaclyn looked up at Andrea, then Troy. “No, he hasn't stopped by.” She gestured toward the chairs. “Please sit down, both of you, and tell me exactly what happened.”
Troy waited for Andrea to sit before taking the chair to her left. “Tell Jackie what you told me.”
Andrea crossed her legs and laid her hands on the beige material of her pantsuit. “I got a call yesterday from someone claiming to be Marc Guinn's cocaine supplier and offering me an exclusive interview. I didn't believe the guy. It's obvious someone put him up to posing as a drug dealer to the stars. But when I asked Marc about it, he said he didn't know who would have planted the story.”
Jaclyn stared at Andrea. In the reporter's entire recount, Jaclyn was stuck on one point. “You spoke to Marc yesterday?”
Andrea nodded. “Around four o'clock. I told him the supposed dealer said if he didn't hear back from me by the end of the day, he was going to call around to other papers. Well, he must have started calling because there was a message on my machine from a reporter at another paper asking what I knew about Guinn and drugs.”
Jaclyn bit back a stream of vocabulary words more suited to an assassin than a lady. She sat forward and looked the reporter in the eye. “Thank you, Andrea. You've always been very fair to the Monarchs organization, and we've really appreciated it. But what you've done now is tremendous. I don't know of another reporter who would have taken the steps you've taken to ensure a fair and accurate story. I'm glad you're where you are today.”
Andrea blushed. “I didn't do this for the Monarchs, Ms. Jones. I did it for myself. I don't deal in rumors and innuendos. Not anymore. I deal in facts. I'm not going to cover the drug story. I know it's based on a lie. I'd rather do a story on the reason someone wants to destroy the Mighty Guinn's reputation.”
Jaclyn smiled. “I think I can accommodate you, if I can ask for one more favor.”
Troy looked at Jaclyn. “You know who's behind this?”
Jaclyn folded her hands on her desk. She looked from Troy to Andrea, then back to her media executive. “I'm ninety-nine percent certain.”
Andrea shook her head. “Marc said he didn't know who was responsible for this story. How could
you
know if
he
doesn't?”
Jaclyn arched a brow. “Marc lied.” She leaned back in her chair and held up her hands, palms out. “Maybe ‘lied' is too strong of a term. He believes conflicts shouldn't be aired outside of the team. I agree with him—to an extent. But when someone is threatening my team, the code goes out the window.”
Andrea leaned forward. “So who is it? Who's behind the story?”
“Let me talk to Marc first. Then I'll give you the exclusive you were hoping for.” Jaclyn checked her watch. It was edging toward eight-twenty. She wouldn't have much time to talk with DeMarcus. Practice started at eleven o'clock. She turned to her media executive. “Troy, set up a press conference for ten
A.M.
Tell them I want to discuss rumors of the Monarchs' head coach's drug addiction. We need to get in front of this story before our alleged drug dealer lets his fingers do the walking to every news media in Kings County. For once, I'm not going to play catch up.”
Andrea sat back. “What about the favor you mentioned?”
Jaclyn contemplated the reporter. “I think this could be a nice addition to your exclusive.”
Andrea tilted her head. “What could?”
Jaclyn pursed her lips. She had to think this through. “A meeting between your drug dealer source and a couple of New York's finest.”
Troy's eyebrows shot up. “The police? You can arrange that?”
Jaclyn nodded toward Andrea. “With a little help. I know a prosecutor in the Brooklyn District Attorney's office who might be able to interest a couple of police officers in having lunch with an alleged drug dealer.”
Troy grinned. “You're going to have him arrested?”
Jaclyn shook her head. “Think of it as more of a friendly, nonthreatening version of
Scared Straight
.” She turned to Andrea. “Do you think you could get him to meet you at that sandwich shop a couple of blocks from here?”
Andrea smiled. “What time?”
Jaclyn picked up the phone. “Let me make a call.”
Then she'd ask her head coach why she was the last to find out that someone was trying to destroy him and her team.
19
Jaclyn knocked twice on DeMarcus's open door before crossing the threshold into his office. She closed the door quietly behind her. DeMarcus stood from his chair. The chivalrous gesture didn't evoke the pleasure it had in the past. She was too angry.
Measured steps brought her to the opposite side of his desk. He had plenty of time to break the silence. His expression was more curious than concerned, but he never uttered a word.
She kept her voice low and slow. “When were you going to tell me Gerry is spreading lies in the media about you being a drug addict?”
Shock cleared his features. “Who told you?”
His words sucked the breath right out of her. She'd been right. Gerald Bimm was behind this latest assault on her team. And DeMarcus hadn't warned her.
Why not?
She was looking at a stranger. “That's your response? Didn't it occur to you that I might find out from someone else if you didn't tell me first?”
At this moment, it was a toss-up as to whom she was angriest with, Gerald for his petty vindictiveness or DeMarcus for his damning silence. She hated being caught off guard this way. DeMarcus knew that. Yet he'd put her in the position of having to cross examine him like a criminal defendant at court to get the information she needed to protect herself and her team. She hated that, too.
“I was going to tell you, Jack.” His coal black eyes apologized.
Jaclyn wasn't ready to see it. “I know you're not that crazy. That's why I asked
when
you were going to tell me as opposed to
were
you going to tell me.”
“I was going to tell you today.”
She clenched her fists. “When, Marc? I need to know when. Practice starts in two hours. Were you going to tell me on the hour-long flight to D.C. tonight? Were you planning on texting me during the game tomorrow? When?”
DeMarcus's gaze slid away from hers. Not a good sign. He was scaring her.
He ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “I can't give you an exact time. But I promise I was going to tell you today.”
Her knees gave out. Jaclyn dropped into the visitor's chair behind her. “Why didn't you tell me yesterday after Andrea met with you?”
DeMarcus circled his table and took the chair on Jaclyn's right. “I went to see Gerry after Andrea left. I told him, if he kept pushing the story, I would tell the media he planned to move the team.”
He seemed confident that his warning had convinced Gerald not to pursue the libelous piece. Based on Andrea's update this morning, he was wrong.
Jaclyn gave him a flat look. “Your tactics didn't work, Marc. The drug dealer called at least one other paper this morning.”
DeMarcus stood and paced the room. “Then I'll have to make good on my own threat.”
Jaclyn tunneled her fingers into her hair. Her head was spinning. Andrea had told DeMarcus a drug dealer claimed to be his supplier. DeMarcus had exchanged threats with Gerald. All of this had happened yesterday without DeMarcus saying a peep to her.
She heard the blood rushing through her veins. “Why didn't you tell me this last night?”
“You were having dinner with Violet, discussing the Empire. I didn't want to interrupt you.”
Her temper snapped. Jaclyn shot out of the chair and stormed after him. “That's absurd. Gerry's shopping a story—a lie!—that will not only ruin your reputation but also damage my team. Trust me, dinner and Vi would have waited.”
DeMarcus turned to face her. “I was handling the situation.”
Jaclyn froze. “
You
were handling it?”
His expression grew cautious. “Yes.”
“What's
my
role, Marc?”
DeMarcus frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jaclyn struggled to rein in her emotions. This was business.
Then why did it feel so personal?
“If you're here to handle crises for the franchise, what's my role?”
“You're already dealing with Gerry's other schemes.”
Could he hear himself? He couldn't possibly. “You're going to pick and choose which problems I work on?”
“I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job.”
“It certainly appears that way.”
“I'm trying to help you.”
She was able to control her tone despite her growing agitation. “You thought I was too busy to be told about the libelous article concerning my head coach, which Gerry was shopping to the papers?”
DeMarcus shoved his hands into the front pockets of his black warm-up pants. “I thought I could handle it.”
Jaclyn had heard enough. “Do you want to know what I think? I think you don't like having me for a boss.”
“What?” He sounded stunned.
“Do you resent reporting to me specifically or women in general?”
DeMarcus pulled his hands from his pockets and hooked them onto his hips. “Now you're the one being absurd.”
Jaclyn shook her head. “I don't think so. What am I supposed to believe when you withhold critical information from me regarding my team?”
DeMarcus paced his office. “It was a judgment call to talk to Gerry before I spoke to you.”
“You exhibited very poor judgment.” Jaclyn tracked DeMarcus's movements around his office. “And this isn't the first time.”
DeMarcus frowned at her over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Jaclyn raised her right arm toward his desk. “We've had this conversation before, right here in your office. You were sitting in your chair. I was sitting on the corner of your desk. I told you I needed to know everything that affected the team from tensions between the players and coaches to problems with the equipment. Do you remember that?”
“I thought I had autonomy.” DeMarcus faced Jaclyn. He seemed to vibrate with anger.
Jaclyn narrowed her eyes. What did he have to be angry about? “Don't try to paint me as some sort of control freak. I'm not a figurehead sitting at a desk approving expense reports all day. If you can't handle my being your boss, you should have said so that night in Atlanta.”
Silence slammed into the room. Jaclyn stared at DeMarcus. His tall, lean, well-muscled body she loved to explore. His shared passion for the NBA. His quick wit and great sense of humor. She'd thought he was perfect for her. Deep down, were they really so incompatible? Realization was a crushing blow to her heart.
“What are you saying?” DeMarcus's words came on a faint breath.
She wouldn't cry. “I told you we needed to keep our personal and professional lives separate if this relationship was going to work.”
DeMarcus went cold. His heart clenched. He was losing her. Dammit. What could he say? What should he do to turn this around? “How did my talking to Gerry cross the line from professional to personal?”
Jaclyn's eyes were sad. She was already saying good-bye. “If I were Donnie Walsh, president of the Knicks, would you have waited a day before telling me what Gerry was doing?”
DeMarcus didn't want to answer. “No.”
“Why not?”
The answer was obvious. “Because it wouldn't matter as much to me whether Walsh believed Gerry.”
Her jaw dropped. “I know you're not taking drugs.”
DeMarcus closed his eyes. He didn't know what hurt more, losing her or having to explain why he'd been such a coward. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I know that. That's not the part that worried me.”
Jaclyn prompted him when he fell silent. “Then what was it?”
DeMarcus swallowed. “I didn't want you to doubt me. I didn't want you to wonder whether I was losing on purpose because of what Gerry said. I need your faith in me.”
Jaclyn rubbed the fingers of her right hand over her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. When she opened her eyes, they were damp. DeMarcus's heart clenched again.
Jaclyn took a breath. Her slender shoulders trembled. “You wouldn't have lost my faith in you if you'd talked to me. But you're keeping secrets, Marc. Maybe you're trying to protect me, but I can't do my job with your brand of protection. I can't wonder what else you're not telling me.”
DeMarcus wanted to go to her. Take her into his arms and beg her for another chance. Instead, he braced his feet to the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'm used to protecting the people I care about.”
“You don't need my protection, but the team does. As much as I care about you, if I have to choose between you and the team, I have to choose the team. It's all I have left of my family.”
“I know.” She could have both, if she'd just give him another chance.
Jaclyn checked her watch. “I have to go. I asked Troy to pull together a press conference. I want to address Gerry's lies before they end up in print.”
DeMarcus's eyes widened. “You're holding a press conference? Do you want me there?”
She finally looked at him again. Her cinnamon eyes were red and wet. “No. The press would try to corner you. I want to go on the offensive. Then I'm giving Andrea an exclusive on what Gerry's been up to. It's time we exposed him for the traitorous worm he is.” She moved toward his office door.
“Jack.” DeMarcus called after her. “I didn't mean to let you down. You have to believe that. I was trying to help.”
She gave him a half smile. “We should have known we couldn't mix business with pleasure. We're not the first couple to fail at an office romance.” She opened the door and walked out of his office.
DeMarcus stared at the open door. Jaclyn was wrong. They hadn't failed. There was still time left on the clock, and DeMarcus hated to lose.
 
 
The Monarchs' large conference room was crammed with reporters, cameras, tape recorders and microphones. Jaclyn was overwhelmed. Playing in the shadows of the New York Knicks, the Monarchs didn't hold many press conferences.
Jaclyn covered her eyes to avoid the blinding camera flashes as she walked with Troy toward the podium. “What a circus. We didn't have this kind of response when we announced Marc was joining the organization.”
Troy used his bigger body to shield Jaclyn from the crush of people and equipment. He'd put his suit jacket back on and straightened his tie. “There's nothing like a scandal to bring out the media.”
Jaclyn glanced up at the former newspaper reporter. “You used to be the media.”
Troy smiled down at her. “That's how I know.”
The former reporter turned media executive reached the podium and took the microphone first. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Let's get settled so we can start the press conference. We don't want to keep you too long.”
Jaclyn looked at the wall clock mounted across the room. They still had a couple of minutes before the event was supposed to begin. She and Troy had a long day ahead of them. The sooner the conference started, the sooner they could prepare to leave for the Wizards game in Washington, D.C.
The crush of bodies, lights, cameras and other audio-visual equipment made the room almost unbearably hot. Someone was wearing a lot of cheap cologne. The chatter of personal conversations was making it difficult for Jaclyn to mentally review her speech.
Troy once again thanked the members of the press for coming to the event. “As I explained in the announcement, rumors are circulating about our head coach and drug abuse. Brooklyn Monarchs owner Jaclyn Jones wants to address those rumors. Ms. Jones, if you'll take the podium, please.”
Jaclyn switched places with Troy on the makeshift platform. She exchanged smiles with Andrea Benson, who sat in the front row. Today, they were pals and coconspirators in a strategy to stop the slander against DeMarcus and her team. Tomorrow, they could very well be on opposite sides of some other issue. That was the nature of their professional relationship.
As Jaclyn adjusted the microphone, she realized this was her very first press conference. And she was using it to tell the world her lover wasn't a drug addict. “Thank you for taking the time to attend this press conference. When we learned of the lies circulating about our head coach, DeMarcus Guinn, we wanted to address the allegations immediately to put a stop to these outrageous and completely false accusations. The Brooklyn Monarchs takes drug abuse very seriously. We support and strictly adhere to the NBA's drug-testing policy. We want all of our employees to be good citizens and role models in the community. They can't do that if they're crippled by drug addiction. That's why I can stand here with complete confidence and assure you that DeMarcus Guinn is
not
addicted to drugs. That's all that I wanted to say. Do you have any questions?”

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