by Rita Ewing
Casey tried not to snap at Robin as she ignored her comment about Dawn.
“Their excuse? They both work. You know, they have jobs. And most of the time, their hours are unpredictable.”
If Casey had been Kelly, say, or maybe Trina when she got angry at the referees for making calls against Rick, she would, without a second’s thought, have wrestled Miss Nosy Body to the ground—andmaybe squashed a grapefruit half in her face to match Robin’s sour attitude.
Robin had the hide of an elephant and she was like the Energizer Bunny: she kept going and going until she got what she wanted.
“Well, we all know why Kelly’s not here too, don’t we?” Robin began with a wicked laugh. “The whole city knows!”
“Do we?” Trina dryly said to Robin.
“Come on now, Robin, why would she show up after pressing charges against Steve?” Casey said, looking at Robin as if she had lost her mind. “If she showed up, the whole team would lock her out. There isn’t a member of the team who believes her story, whether there’s any truth to it or not.”
“Truth! Ha! There’s no truth to her story. She’s been pulling the wool over all of our eyes,” Robin said, nodding her head as if agreeing with herself.
“Well, none of us know what really happened,” Casey said. Even though she believed Steve was innocent, she felt a twinge of loyalty to Kelly.
“Kelly has been completely discredited as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe that she lied to all of us about Diamond being Steve’s daughter. Now, that’s wrong,” Trina said.
“How much do you think she and Daryl got for that story to the Daily News?” Robin asked.
“Really, Robin! You don’t know that Kelly had anything to do with Daryl’s exposé to the papers. He could have just been trying to make a quick buck on his own. Not that it makes it right.”
“Talk about making a quick buck, Casey, isn’t that what Kelly has been doing since Diamond was born? Making money at her child’s expense? Claiming her daughter was somebody else’s child?” Robin said matter-of-factly, pulling out her case and fixing her lipstick.
“My God, Robin,” Casey said, feeling her stomach turn.
“Well, truly, Casey. How do you think poor Steve feels in all of this? Having that copy of the paternity report plastered on the front of the Daily News, proving without a doubt that the daughter everyone else thought was Steve Tucker’s child was actually fathered by this Daryl character. And that horror show of a person Daryl saying that Steve thought he could steal his daughter from him just because he was a big-time sports star. I mean, it’s absolutely scandalous! And I don’t care what anyone thinks, I bet Kelly and Daryl are in cahoots in this whole fiasco. This was probably her last-ditch effort to milk the situation since Steve dumped her.”
Casey had felt hurt and betrayed since the truth had come out. She was in shock. She did not understand why Kelly would tell such a huge lie to everyone. Was that why Steve had broken off their engagement?
Casey couldn’t completely turn her back on Kelly, though, not yet. “All that doesn’t mean she was lying about him battering her, and you know what? I really don’t feel comfortable talking about this. Kelly’s not here to defend herself. Let’s just drop it.”
“You know what they say,” Robin said, ignoring her, “once a liar, always a liar. Why would Kelly be telling the truth now?” Robin placed her lipstick back in her purse.
Trina stood up and looked directly at Robin. “You know what they say, Robin: once a gossip, always a gossip.”
It looked like Trina had pierced the elephant’s hide. Casey only wished Trina could stand up to Rick in the same manner she did to Robin.
Casey followed suit and quickly rose from the table as Robin was still recovering from Trina’s verbal blow.
“You heading down, Trina?” Casey asked.
“I guess so. The air is bothering me in here.” Trina said, crinkling her nose.
Casey was surprised and felt pride for Trina as they worked their way toward the Family Lounge exit.
“Now, Trina, if we could only get you to handle Rick like that,” Casey said.
“Who are you telling?” Trina laughed.
“You’ll do it when you’re ready.” Casey felt bad for the new friend she’d made this season. Here she was, a pregnant housewife trying to take care of her family and start her own business with no support from her husband. Not only a nonsupportive husband, but one who had a huge gambling problem as well. Yet Trina was still trying to move forward with her life. Casey admired her courage. Maybe it was timefor her to take a trip to the Land of Oz and get a little of her own from the Wizard.
Casey sat in her seat and wished she could feel some of the excitement that permeated the Mecca. There was a buzz in the air as the Flyer City Dancers, dressed in miniature Statue of Liberty outfits, passed out purple and black towels to the excited crowd. Hoping to psych herself up, she glanced around at the other courtside seat occupants. There were so many celebrities in attendance, it could have easily been a night at the Oscars or the MTV Awards. Shaquille O’Neal and the Los Angeles Lakers facing off against Brent Rogers and the New York Flyers in the NBA finals was enough to get Halle Berry, Bill Cosby, Tom Cruise, Demi Moore, Whoopi Goldberg, and Vanessa Williams to show up at the Mecca. And more superstars were there, Casey was sure.
Once again Leonard Hightower was sitting boldly in Star Row, flanked by his muscular, redheaded henchman on one side and his stunning child bride on the other side. Casey wondered how long it would take for this young beauty to become a member of the Second Wives Club. Hightower had shown up at every game since the play-offs began. He always arrived in a flurry, making a big scene with Secret Service-like escorts and media blitzes attempting to converge around him whenever there was a time-out on the floor. Casey noted, though, he never spoke directly to the press at the games. Rather he calmly sat back rubbing his young wife’s leg and licking his chops.
Casey’s mood didn’t lift, though, especially after she’d seen Hightower and his cronies. He was unrelenting. Many of the celebrities waved and smiled at her, but she was lost in her thoughts about Brent, their marriage, and what it would mean if the team was sold and relocated. She had no intention of leaving her job in New York City. What would that mean for Brent’s roving eye or even hers, she thought, recalling the debacle with Gregory Patrick. But Brent had taken it further than her—a lot further. Not only had Brent been unfaithful to her, but he had lied to her one too many times. It seemed as if a true reconciliation was next to impossible, at least on her part. How could she ever trust him again?
Nikki’s mother had still not returned and had since asked Brent if they could keep her for a while. Casey had no idea what “a while” actually meant. At first Casey thought she would hate the intrusion. She had four cases going, along with her controversial photographer’s censorship hearing, which was looming before her. Taking care of Nikki for only a short while meant it would be pointless to look for good day care. They settled for their live-in housekeeper, Martha, and the teenage baby-sitter who looked after Brent, Jr., when he was in town. Martha usually looked after Nikki while Casey was working, but she knew Martha wasn’t stimulating Nikki’s intellect. Casey had actually taken a few sick days and watched Nikki herself at home. But as it turned out, Casey didn’t mind Nikki living with them. She was actually a sweet, well-behaved little girl, but Casey was still convinced that Brent had planned the entire visit. She didn’t believe Nikki’s mother’s claims of being ill as the catalyst for this extended stay. Casey was tired of second-guessing everything Brent said or did.
“Casey,” said a man’s voice from beside her.
“Yes?”
“I think your husband is trying to get your attention.”
Casey turned toward where the man was pointing and saw Brent across the court. “Thanks,” she said as Brent waved to her. Then he blew her a kiss.
Casey suppressed a smile as she blew a kiss back to her husband. Why di
d he have to be so romantic when she was angry at him? He continued to stare at her for what seemed like minutes, and finally he began to make silly faces until she bróke into a smile.
Casey turned away from him as the announcer, Bud Zanny, began to unenthusiastically introduce the Los Angeles Lakers. She spotted Alexis standing behind the Flyers’ bench, looking impeccable as usual. She was wearing a dramatic flowing camel-colored Valentino coat dress. The fabric stopped inches below the top of a pair of long black suede boots. She realized that she had not noticed Alexis in the Family Lounge before the game started, which was unusual. Normally Alexis would be right in there taking stock of all the wives like dogs before a show. Her absence tonight was even more peculiar as this was the first game of the finals.
Alexis stared at her husband, completely enraptured, as he assembled his players to get them ready for their official introduction. Alexis’s awe of her husband was larger than life. A painting of them would have had to portray her as only a shadow standing behind the man. Alexis had remained by his side for all these years despite his relentless philandering and who knew what else.
Alexis embodied one of Casey’s worst fears: she was scared that she might become like a shadow standing behind her husband. Oh, that’s absurd, she told herself for the millionth time. Casey would never lose herself in Brent or his career, nor would she want to overlook his infidelities. Still, a little voice inside her continued to nag: she did stay after Brent’s one-night stand. Was she becoming desensitized? The thought was chilling.
The lights dimmed for the laser show that preceded the introduction of the Flyers.
As Casey watched the ceremonies, she noticed that although Steve was suited up, he was not among the starting players introduced now. Coach must be punishing Steve for Kelly’s assault-and-battery charge—true or not. At any other time during the season, it would not be surprising for Coach to use such tactics to put a player in his place, but now? It was risky to say the least.
In Steve’s absence, Rick Belleville, the second-string center, was going to jump for the ball against Shaquille O’Neal. Rick was clearly too short and too old to be a fair match against the Shaq. Why hadn’t Coach substituted Kyle? He sometimes played backup center. The Flyers may as well have just handed the ball to the Lakers.
The game progressed at a faster pace than usual, with the Flyers and the Lakers basically trading baskets. Shaquille was responsible for the majority of the Lakers’ points. One of the strengths of the Flyers was their deep bench, which was stocked with experienced veterans; the Lakers had a younger team, but they had less play-off experience, a mandatory ingredient to winning an NBA championship.
Throughout most of the game, there was never more than a five-point difference in the score. With Steve Tucker on the bench, Shaquille was having his way with Rick Belleville, dunking over him almost every time he went to the basket. He was also outrebounding him, fifteen to three. Casey kind of felt sorry for Rick. It was embarrassing for him, especially since the crowd had begun to chant Steve Tucker’s name, in hopes of him replacing Rick in the game.
What was the coach thinking? He even could have tried a technique the Flyers had used in the past when both their centers, Steve and Rick, had been injured or having off nights: he could have rotated Brent or Collin into the center position; both were better rebounders than Rick. If Coach wanted the team to win the title, now was not the time to be teaching costly lessons.
Fortunately, Brent, Paul, and Michael were taking up the slack, keeping the Flyers in the game. Collin, who was regularly a force, seemed strangely lethargic, even distracted, tonight. Casey kept catching him glancing across the court into the stands. Collin needed to be concentrating on the game he was playing.
Oh, Brent wanted the championship! He had grown up a fan of the New York Flyers, and since joining the team, it had become his goal to bring a championship to the team he had loved as a child. It was what he had been waiting for his entire life. Despite all of her unresolved issues about their marriage, Casey prayed that Brent could get his wish.
The game of basketball was not merely about the money for Brent. He was a competitor and he hated to lose more than anything. Brent even played his heart out during the preseason, which was rare for most players. Brent couldn’t stand to lose in a game of Scrabble!
When Paul Thomas got possession of the ball with twenty seconds left to play in the game, Casey leapt to her feet with the rest of the screaming crowd at the Mecca.
Paul ran down past the half-court line and guarded the ball as if his life depended on it. The Flyers were four points in the lead, and Casey suspected he’d hold on to the ball unless he was fouled. In the split second Rick Fox attempted to steal it with thirteen seconds left, Paul passed the ball to Brent, who quickly passed it to Collin, who kicked it back out to Paul. The Lakers failed in their attempt to foul one of the Flyers in order to stop the clock. The buzzer signaled the end of the game, and the masses in the Mecca were in a frenzy as confetti was thrown around the stands by the Statue of Liberty-clad dancers.
Alexis slowly approached Casey as she stood outside the locker room waiting for Brent. They had decided before the game to pick up some carry-out Chinese food and take it home to have a family dinner with Nikki.
Casey braced herself for Alexis’s interrogation about the other wives. Where was Dawn? And why hadn’t Lorraine made it? No doubt Robin Stillman had debriefed Alexis about all the gossip in the lounge.
“Hello, Casey. You look divine,” Alexis said as she gave her customary phony European kisses.
“Thank you, Alexis. You look great yourself.”
Truthfully, Alexis looked more distracted than fantastic. Normally she would have been elated about a win, especially in the finals. Casey noticed that Alexis kept looking at the locker-room entrance and then at her watch. She then started fidgeting with her hair and adjusting her sparkling diamond charm bracelet.
What was up with Alexis? Casey was ready for her tonight and was almost disappointed. She had a few lines rehearsed to explain why Dawn, Lorraine, and Remy were not at the game. Casey had planned on explaining to Alexis that they all had to work. She wanted to rub it in that those wives and fiancées had jobs of their own, that their schedules did not center around their husbands'. That would get under Alexis’s skin.
“It was good seeing you, Casey; take care,” Alexis said, not even looking at Casey as she hurried off toward Coach, who was quickly leaving the locker room.
Weird, Casey thought. What had gotten into Alexis? Maybe she was sick. God, Casey felt terrible thinking those mean thoughts while Alexis was under the weather. Oh hell, she and Coach were probably running off to do “The Late Show with David Letterman,” albeit a little prematurely. The Mitchells could at least have waited to ensure that the Flyers actually won the championship first, considering the team’s history in the finals, Casey thought.
Chapter 35
“Dawn, dear, how are you?” Alexis gushed as she floated through the revolving door at the Four Seasons.
Dawn smiled through her exhaustion and pain, dutifully going through the kiss routine.
“I’m okay, Alexis, just a little beat. And you?”
Dawn said, noticing Alexis’s driver return to the long black limousine and pull away.
“To the Grill Room,” Alexis said, taking Dawn’s elbow. “Follow me, dear.”
The maître d’ approached them and said, “It’s a pleasure to see you, Madame Mitchell. May I take your wrap downstairs to the cloakroom for you?”
“No, thank you, I’d prefer to keep it,” Alexis said, casting her wool crepe cloak dramatically over her arm.
“I have your favorite table reserved, madame. If you’d kindly follow me,” the maître d’ said with a click of his heels as he escorted them to the best table.
Dawn noticed that virtually everyone in the restaurant looked up from their meals as they passed by to get a glimpse of Mrs. Mike Mitchell. Dawn felt like Alexis’s underdresse
d step-daughter in her wrinkled linen pantsuit and no jewelry other than her small diamond studs. Feeling like a zombie when they reached their table, Dawn gladly took the offered seat. She stifled a yawn as a crisp white linen napkin was spread across her lap. She had just finished a thirty-six hour shift at the hospital; anything was better than being in the apartment with Michael. Even though they still lived together, she had not spoken to him since busting him with that other woman in Chicago. She didn’t know what to say. Hadn’t she seen enough? And as much as he had tried to explain and apologize, what could he really say other than “I fucked up"?
Dawn had seriously contemplated breaking the lunch date with Alexis, but it would have been her third time canceling. And there was a small part of Dawn that secretly fantasized Alexis was going to pass on a message from Coach that Michael had been miserable since she caught him red-handed and that he was ready to get married now to prove his undying love for her.
Picking up the menu in front of her, Dawn did not even feel like reading it. She would have much preferred having a quick McDonald’s cheeseburger.
“Dawn, you’ve got to try the spinach Strudel. It’s heaven to start with, and then I’d suggest the grilled swordfish with the glazed pomme de terres.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dawn said, closing her menu, glad to have one less decision to make.
As the waiter poured them each a glass of chardonnay, Dawn watched Alexis inspect and rotate the liquid around her glass before she lifted it to the center of the table in a toasting gesture.
“Cheers. This is to change and transition,” Alexis said, lightly tipping her glass against Dawn’s.
Taking a sip of her wine, Dawn waited silently, a trick she’d learned during her psychiatry rotation to make the other person speak.
“You look tired, Dawn.”
“I feel tired, Alexis … You know, long hours at the hospital.”
“So I hear,” Alexis said, holding her wineglass with both hands as she swiveled it back and forth.