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“I’m fully committed to winning.”
DeMarcus leaned his firm glutes against the nearby counter, finally facing Jaclyn. “Your team didn’t start losing yesterday. The Monarchs have been getting worse over the past four years. Where were you while this was happening?”
The question, though fair, stung. “Gerry and Bert blocked many of the operational and personnel decisions my grandfather thought would benefit the team. When my grandfather became ill three years ago, we weren’t able to give the franchise the attention it needed.”
“Your grandfather’s illness gave Gerry and Bert free rein to destroy the franchise.”
“It seems that way.”
DeMarcus gentled his voice. “Your grandfather has been gone for almost two years. What have you done to help the team?”
Jaclyn clenched her fists. “We need a majority vote to approve major decisions. They’ve formed a solid block against me with the intent of driving the franchise out of the city.”
“Troy kept referring to Gerry as the interim general manager. Who’s the GM?”
Jaclyn closed her eyes briefly, realizing where DeMarcus was taking her. “I am. I’ve given notice at the law firm and I’m taking back the GM responsibilities tomorrow.”
DeMarcus cocked his head. “It took you two years to make that decision?”
“I realize—”
“Do you see why I don’t think you’re committed to the team? I need management support to save the Monarchs.”
Jaclyn dragged her fingers through her hair. The glint in DeMarcus’s eyes made her wonder whether he was enjoying the frustration he was visiting on her. Was this his payback for her attacking him yesterday? If so, she’d pay it gladly. For her grandfather, she was prepared to beg. “Marc, I know this looks bad.”
“It is bad.”
Jaclyn wished he’d stop interrupting her. “I know I should have been more engaged sooner. I’m trying to fix my mistake. Will you help me?”
DeMarcus felt himself responding to her plea. He stared into Jaclyn’s cinnamon eyes. She spoke so sweetly, but did she understand what she was asking him? He straightened away from the counter. “The team is on a losing slide and two of the three partners want to throw away the season.”
“I know it won’t be easy. Will you help me?”
DeMarcus’s gaze dipped to the silver and black Monarchs lapel pin fastened to the collar of her cream suit jacket. Was it the same pin from yesterday or did she have one for each outfit?
He turned to check the chicken and chickpeas. He stirred the couscous. The pot spoon moved in time with his thoughts. There was too much to lose. “I’d have to make changes with the team and with the coaches. The team will resist it. The coaches will resent me. And Gerry and Bert will side with them.”
“But I’ll side with you. You have my word.”
DeMarcus considered Jaclyn’s earnest expression. She could make him a believer. Almost. “When? In another two years?”
She bit her plump lower lip. “Before my grandfather died, he warned me Gerry and Bert don’t have the same commitment to the franchise that he and I have. He said I’d have to fight to save the team.” Jaclyn shook her head. “I never imagined they’d try to take the Monarchs away from Brooklyn.”
DeMarcus was hesitant to end the heavy silence. “I can’t guarantee you a winning season.”
“No one could make a promise like that.” Jaclyn stepped closer to him. Her voice was urgent. “I know you have doubts about the team, about the coaches—about me. But I’m not giving up. I can’t. There’s too much at stake.”
He sensed Jaclyn willing his gaze to meet hers. He raised his eyes. “I can’t help you.”
“Please, just think it over.” She hesitated. “You don’t have to answer tonight. You can call me tomorrow.”
The extra time must have cost her. Preseason was twelve days away. She’d asked so sweetly, still she’d asked too much. DeMarcus didn’t want to think it over. He wanted to walk away. The Monarchs were a disaster from the basketball court to the front office. It would take a miracle to realize a winning season.
He hated himself. Still he couldn’t be the one to steal the hope from her bright eyes. “I’ll think it over.”
Jaclyn’s face glowed with pleasure and relief. DeMarcus stared at her radiance and lost his train of thought. He felt like a hero, like he’d made the winning basket at the buzzer.
She reached out and wrapped her long, slender hand around his forearm. “Thank you.”
