Fast Break

by Regina Hart

  Gerald straightened the crease on his silk pants. “Which is more than you have now, isn’t it? Or didn’t the Gandy brothers tell you that they’re selling the arena?”

  Jaclyn leaned back in her executive chair. Althea was right. They had a spy in the front office. That was the only way Gerald would have known she’d spoken with the arena owners. “I’m aware of that.”

  Gerald inclined his head. “Then you’d better hope Abbottson’s interest becomes an offer and soon. Even if the revenues increase by the end of the season, it would be too little, too late, and the Monarchs will be homeless next year.”

  “This situation couldn’t have worked out better for you if you’d planned it yourself.” She tipped her head. “Or did you?”

  “You give me too much credit.” Gerald pushed himself to his feet and stared down at her. “You can either sell your shares to me or move with the team to Las Vegas. Either way, I don’t care.”

  Her features stiffened. Gerald knew she’d never leave Brooklyn. “Sell my shares to you? Can your clothing budget afford another hit?”

  Gerald’s glare was pure hate. “You Joneses think you’re better than everyone else. Enjoy it while you can.”

  “When is Abbottson coming?”

  Gerald shrugged again. “We have to finalize that. The Monarchs have a couple of games next week, don’t they?”

  Was he baiting her or did he seriously not know the team’s schedule? “We play the Sacramento Kings Tuesday, February ninth, then we break for the All-Star Game and weekend. Why don’t you ask Nessa to send you a schedule so you can keep up?”

  The right corner of Gerald’s lips curved upward in a wry smile. He looked around her office again. “We should change the team’s colors. Silver and black are too drab for Las Vegas. Of course, you’ll have to redo your interior decorating.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gerry.”

  He turned to leave. “You can’t fight progress, Jackie.”

  “If this were progress, I’d be worried. But it’s just your spite.” She watched Gerald disappear from her doorway.

  Albert was right. The Empire was the key. How could she use that knowledge to keep the Monarchs in Brooklyn?

  DeMarcus stared at Jaclyn’s bedroom ceiling. Shadows danced across its textured white surface as the traffic flowed sluggishly outside.

  He flexed his left arm, drawing Jaclyn’s slender nude body closer to his side. He inhaled her soft lilac fragrance. DeMarcus wanted to hold on to her warmth and this moment for a just a while longer. Then he’d leave her bed to work on the Monarchs’ game plan for Tuesday’s home game against the Sacramento Kings. Jaclyn’s head rested on his shoulder. Her soft breaths stroked the side of his neck. Her smooth leg nestled between his. The bedsheets were still tangled around them. DeMarcus used his free arm to pull the comforter over Jaclyn’s shoulder to protect her from the February evening’s chill.

  Jaclyn tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest. “I’m taking out a mortgage on my grandfather’s house.”

  DeMarcus jerked his head toward her. “Why?”

  “The Gandy brothers are selling the Empire. That’s one of the reasons they’re unwilling to extend our contract.”

  “You’re mortgaging your home to buy the arena? Isn’t that drastic?”

  Jaclyn rolled over to lie on her back. “The team is more important to me than this house.”

  DeMarcus turned onto his side and propped himself on his left elbow. He looked down at her, missing her warmth, her touch. “Let me help you buy the arena.”

  Jaclyn smiled up at him. “Thank you for the offer. But I think that would only complicate things. Besides, this is something I need to do for myself.”

  DeMarcus knitted his brow. “It’s a big financial commitment. Have you thought this through?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  He stilled beside her. Cold air cut into the space between them. “When did you talk to the Gandy brothers?”

  “Three months ago—before Thanksgiving. They said the Empire looked more attractive to prospective buyers without the Monarchs on their books.”

  DeMarcus’s brows flew upward. “You found out about this months ago, but you’re only telling me now?”

  Jaclyn frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you wait so long to share with me something this important to you?”

  Jaclyn still looked confused. “I didn’t want you to worry about the Empire. You have enough on your mind trying to take the team to the play-offs.”

  DeMarcus rolled out of bed and paced the room. With his spiking temper, he was barely aware of the chill wrapping around his naked body or the plush carpet beneath his bare feet. “So I’m good enough to coach your team and good enough to take to your bed, but I’m not good enough to discuss what’s important to you.”

  “That’s not what I meant at all.” Jaclyn sat up, shielding her breasts with the black and silver abstract comforter. Her lips parted in shock. “You matter to me. A lot. I guess our relationship is more complicated than I’d thought.”

  “I guess it is.” The stricken expression in her eyes hurt him. DeMarcus looked away.

  “I’m sorry, Marc. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know. Just, please, don’t shut me out of your life again. Any part of it.”

  “I promise.”

  He heard the smile in her voice and faced her again. “Will mortgaging your home give you enough money to buy the Empire?”

  Jaclyn sobered. “No. I’ll have to sell some of my stock portfolio.”

  DeMarcus studied Jaclyn’s expression. Her thoughts had transported her out of the room. Where was she? She looked determined, like a champion preparing for the finals. “Is it worth it? Is this what your grandfather would have wanted?”

  Jaclyn started. “I don’t know. But it’s what I want. Once I own the Empire, Gerry won’t have the money to break the arena contract and move the team.”

  “But is it worth mortgaging your home?”

  This time, Jaclyn’s smile was tinged with sorrow. “This isn’t my home. It’s my grandfather’s house. It takes a family to make a home, and I don’t remember mine.”

  DeMarcus returned to the bed and sat beside her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I try not to be. My grandparents loved me and I loved them. But there were times when I would have sold my soul to know the people whose pictures are in our family photo album—my mother, father and brother.”

  DeMarcus took her hands. He was grateful when Jaclyn entwined their fingers. “You were three when your parents and older brother died in that car accident.”

  Jaclyn nodded. “It took my grandparents years to come to terms with their loss.

  “And then your grandmother got ill.”

  “She died of cancer when I was eleven. She’d suffered a long time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jaclyn squeezed his hands. “So am I. My happiest memories are of the Empire. Watching the Monarchs play—win or lose—and hanging around the practice court. I think that’s why I’ve always thought of the Monarchs as my family, and the Empire as my home. I’ll do whatever I can to save the team and keep them in Brooklyn.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  The stakes just got a lot higher. He wasn’t coaching just to safeguard his legacy anymore or to protect a franchise. He was coaching to save her family, the only family she’d ever known.

  Losing had never been an option, and winning had never mattered more.

  DeMarcus stopped in front of Jaclyn’s executive assistant’s desk and waited until she’d finished whatever she was typing. “Althea Gentry, I’d like you to meet my father, Julian Guinn.”

  Althea’s smile was uncharacteristically bashful. “This is your father? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” She turned to extend a hand toward Julian. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Guinn.”

  Julian took Althea’s hand. “Please call me Julian. It�
��s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

  Althea’s smile broadened into a grin. A blush dusted her rounded brown cheeks.

  DeMarcus looked from Althea to his father and back. “Is Jack in her office?”

  “No, she’s right behind you,” Jaclyn answered.

  DeMarcus turned as Jaclyn laid a folder on Althea’s desk. She was wearing her red power suit adorned with the ever-present Monarchs lapel pin. “Pop and I came to see if we could take you to lunch.”

  Jaclyn stepped forward to embrace Julian. Her red stiletto boots brought her almost equal in height to his father. She stepped back, keeping one hand on Julian’s shoulder as she addressed DeMarcus. “I’d love to, but the meeting I’d mentioned to you yesterday was moved up. I don’t think I’d be very good company today. But thanks for the invitation.”

  Disappointment merged with DeMarcus’s concern. “Why did they move up the meeting?”

  Jaclyn let her hand drop from Julian’s shoulder. “Apparently, Mr. Abbottson has a connecting flight to Miami for the All-Star weekend. He doesn’t want to miss it.”

  Julian shifted to face Jaclyn. “The Monarchs will get some players chosen to the All-Stars next season.”

  A shadow crossed Jaclyn’s face. “This is the second year in a row we were overlooked.”

  DeMarcus wanted to wrap his arms around her and give her comfort. But he didn’t think such a display of affection was appropriate for the office. “Pop and I will give you a rain check on lunch.”

  She gave him her special smile, the one that softened her features and warmed her eyes. “I’d like that. Thanks.” She surprised him by kissing both his and Julian’s cheeks before returning to her office.

  DeMarcus and Julian walked the few blocks to a small, popular café. It was only eleven-thirty, and already the neighborhood establishment was packed. But the pair didn’t have to wait long before being seated at a booth near a window.

  Julian opened his menu. “I didn’t mean to upset Jackie when I mentioned the All-Star weekend.”

  DeMarcus glanced up before returning his attention to the list of lunch items. “Don’t worry, Pop. Jack will be fine.”

  “What meeting does she have today? You both looked like doom and gloom when she talked about it.”

  DeMarcus lowered his menu when the server arrived to take their drink order. He and his father requested unsweetened iced tea. The young man nodded without writing anything down, then walked away.

  DeMarcus spread his cloth napkin on his lap. “Gerry arranged a meeting with a Nevada investor who’s considering building an arena in Las Vegas for the Monarchs.”

  Julian’s menu dropped from his fingers. “The Monarchs’ founders must be spinning in their graves.”

  “Jack won’t let anyone take the team out of Brooklyn.” DeMarcus hesitated. “She’s taken a mortgage on her grandfather’s house. She’s going to buy the arena.”

  Julian’s brows almost disappeared into his graying hairline. “That’s a little drastic, isn’t it?”

  “I said the same thing.” DeMarcus scanned the entrée items without taking in a single word. “And there’s nothing I can do to help her. She won’t let me loan her the money for the arena.”

  “It isn’t personal. I’m sure she’d have to clear that with the NBA. Besides, Jackie Jones is too independent to borrow money from her boyfriend. She’s the kind of woman who pays her own bills.”

  Julian’s description distracted DeMarcus. He was Jaclyn Jones’s boyfriend. What had started as a casual relationship had grown to mean much more to him. What did it mean to her?

  The server returned with their drinks, then took their orders. DeMarcus asked for a Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Julian wanted a meatball sub. They both ordered side salads.

  DeMarcus waited for the young man to leave before continuing. “I have my self-respect, too. This relationship can’t be one-sided. Even if I coached the team to the Finals and we won, she could still lose the arena. So what am I contributing?”

  “A winning season and ticket sales.” Julian’s tone was dry. “You’re the coach, Marc. That’s all you’re required to contribute. The franchise needs to increase its revenue base, otherwise Jackie will continue to struggle to keep the Empire.” His father offered a smile. “She still needs a hero, Marc.”

  DeMarcus snorted. “I’m no one’s hero.”

  Julian’s snort was identical to his son’s. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You’re her knight in shining armor.”

  A part of him wished Julian was serious. But DeMarcus knew his father was trying to lighten the mood. “Somehow, I don’t think a knight would put his lady in the position of having to mortgage her home.”

  “That has nothing to do with you.” Julian was adamant. “The franchise began to deteriorate long before you came on the scene.”

  “What can I do to help her?”

  “You’re doing it. For the first time in three seasons, the Monarchs have a winning record. You have twenty-nine W’ s to twenty-two L’s.”

  At the start of the season, there were days DeMarcus had wondered whether a winning season was possible. “We have to add to the wins column. But winning a ball game doesn’t seem like enough.”

  He’d won games for his mother. Had it been enough? Had she known how grateful he’d been to her?

  Jaclyn had urged him to ask his father months ago. But he couldn’t. He feared what the answer might be.

  For now, DeMarcus pushed the questions to the back of his mind. “You impressed Althea.”

  “She must be easily impressed.”

  DeMarcus’s chuckle was real. “You don’t know Althea. That lady isn’t easily impressed by anyone or anything. Ever.”

  Julian shrugged. “You’re just flattered by her comment about the apple and the tree.”

  “You’re the one who should be flattered.” DeMarcus enjoyed his father’s laughter. It came a lot more frequently these days. Since Jaclyn had entered their lives.

  They were quiet for a while, each enjoying the other’s company and the view outside of Brooklyn in February. The silence was interrupted when the young server returned with their sandwiches and salads.

  DeMarcus kept his voice low. “Mom’s been gone for almost three years, Pop. I don’t think she would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life in mourning.”

  “I know.” Julian stuck his fork into his salad and poked around. “But your mother and I were together for a very long time. It’s not easy to let go of someone who’d been so right for me.”

  DeMarcus thought of Jaclyn. He understood what his father said. When you meet the right woman, it wasn’t easy to let her go, under any circumstances.

  17

  “We’re sorry to have kept you waiting, Jackie.” Gerald didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused.

  Jaclyn looked up from her marketing project folder and rose from her seat at the head of the small mahogany table. Gerald always kept her waiting. Why would today be any different? That’s why she’d brought work with her into the conference room.

  She fixed a smile on her face and offered it to Gerald and his guest. “I had plenty to keep me busy.”

  Gerald made the introductions. “Jaclyn Jones, Carville Abbottson. Jackie, Carville. I think we can all be on a first-name basis, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know why not.” Carville offered Jaclyn a firm handshake.

  Jaclyn enjoyed his energy and enthusiasm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carville.”

  The real estate investor had a hearty Southern accent to go with his golden-age-of-Hollywood good looks. His silver hair and grass green eyes would have been startling in black and white film. Just over six feet tall, he was a commanding figure in his dark green pin-striped suit.

  The two men chose chairs around the conference table. Gerald frowned at Jaclyn’s location. If he’d wanted to sit at the head of the table, he should have arrived earlier.

  Carville had claimed the seat to her right. “I appreciate
your taking the time to meet with me, Jackie.”

  At sixty-three, the chief executive seemed as fit as someone half his age. His conditioning was a testament to the discipline that had driven him from a community college in a tiny Kentucky town to the corner office of his Las Vegas real estate investment firm. Yes, Jaclyn had done her research. She’d never stepped onto the basketball court without committing the scouting reports to memory, either.

  Jaclyn closed her project folder and recapped her pen. “I don’t know how fruitful this meeting will be.”

  Carville folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Las Vegas would welcome the Monarchs into our market.

  Jaclyn noted the spark in Carville’s eyes, the leashed energy in his posture. The self-made multimillionaire was an adrenaline junky. That probably contributed to his success. “How do you know the Las Vegas market could support the Monarchs?”

  Carville gave her an engaging smile. “Well, first of all, your team would be the only NBA team in the market.”

  Had Gerald fed him that line or had Carville used it first? “The Monarchs have done very well sharing the New York City metropolitan market with the Knicks for fifty-five years. But will the NBA allow Las Vegas to establish a team? I thought the commissioner wanted casinos to take NBA games off their books before Las Vegas would be considered a viable location for a team.”

  Carville spread his hands. “We’re going to petition the commissioner to consider Las Vegas as a host expansion city. I feel confident we have a good shot at it.” He shrugged. “And being an inaugural team in Las Vegas would be a great draw for your Monarchs. I know you’ve struggled to make book, and your profits aren’t what they used to be.”

  Jaclyn gave Gerald a brief glance. How much of their finances had he shared with the investor? “That has more to do with mismanagement on our part than the market. During my grandfather’s illness and after his death, I didn’t pay attention to the team as I should have. I’m correcting my oversight now.”

  Carville’s eyes darkened with sympathy. “I understand.”