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“The outlets might run with the press release, but it’s hard to get coverage for the Monarchs. They’re more interested in the Knicks.”
DeMarcus heard the wry humor in the marketing executive’s voice. “But the team’s getting a new head coach.”
“The fourth one in three years. After a while, the franchise’s coaching carousel loses appeal.”
DeMarcus glanced at the paper again. “I would have thought my marketability would have been a bigger draw.”
“There’s some resentment that our native son earned his championship rings with the Miami Waves, our division rivals.” Troy rubbed his bearded chin. “You might actually cost us ticket sales.”
DeMarcus blew a heavy breath, dragging his hand over his hair. “So the Lady Assassin isn’t the only one I have to win over.”
Troy frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind. I’m surprised but I’m not disappointed that I don’t have a lot of interviews scheduled. I don’t enjoy them.”
“What a shock.” Troy’s voice was dry enough for kindling.
The muscles in DeMarcus’s shoulders bunched with tension. “I’ve seen a lot of good players—good people—ruined by reporters who’ve never run a mile in their lives. Still, they sit behind their laptops lecturing us on mental toughness and commitment. They think they know better than we do what it takes to win a championship.”
Troy gave him a considering look, as though trying to read between the lines of DeMarcus’s resentment. “It’s a balance. On the one hand, we need the media to help promote our sport. On the other hand, fans give reporters’ words a lot of weight. The power goes to their heads.”
DeMarcus shrugged, trying to release his tension. “I wouldn’t mind if it stayed in their heads. But instead it comes out of their mouths and causes people a lot of trouble.”
“Your name hasn’t been associated with any scandals.”
“I was lucky. My parents were disciplinarians. They sacrificed a lot of time and money to get my career started. I made sure I repaid their sacrifice by making them proud. The media considered me boring.”
Could he continue to make them proud? Or would this head coaching assignment irreparably damage the legacy he’d created?
A commanding knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts. Elia Gomez, his executive secretary, stood just inside his office. She nodded toward the young woman standing beside her. “Coach, Andrea Benson with the New York Sports is here for the interview.”
DeMarcus got to his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw Troy stand. “Thank you, Elia.”
DeMarcus rounded his desk to greet their guest, but Troy reached her first.
The media executive offered Andrea his hand. “Hi, Andy. It’s good to see you.”
Andrea Benson’s smile was tight, her handshake brief. “Wish I could say the same, Slick.”
DeMarcus’s gaze bounced from the reporter to Troy. The other man looked amused.
The reporter’s appearance was as straightforward as her writing style: tan blazer and black pants. Sensible black shoes boosted her five-foot-nine-inch height. Her dark brown hair fell in a straight shot just past her shoulders.
Troy made the introductions. “Andy Benson, DeMarcus Guinn, the Monarchs’ new head coach.”
“I prefer Andrea, but Slick here is hard of hearing.” Her mocha cheekbones were dusted pink. She scowled in Troy’s direction before taking the hand DeMarcus offered her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Guinn.”
“Marc.” He smiled at the reporter before giving Troy a warning look. The vice president of media could cool his libido until after the newspaper ran the article. He didn’t need the other man irritating the attractive sports reporter during his interview.
He gestured Andrea to precede him and Troy to the conversation table. Andrea sat with her back to a window, casting her features in shadow. A deliberate move? She crossed her right leg over her left knee and opened her reporter’s notebook on the oak table. DeMarcus chose a seat across from her. Troy sat beside her.
The reporter offered DeMarcus an apologetic smile. “Thank you for meeting with me this morning. I’m sure you’re busy getting to know the organization and your new team.”
DeMarcus relaxed into the black swivel chair and returned Andrea’s direct gaze. Her brown eyes were friendly in her heart-shaped face. “I appreciate your interest in the Monarchs. I understand your paper’s the only publication that regularly covers us.”
Andrea settled back into her chair. She tucked her hair behind her ears. Silver sterling earrings, a match to her thin necklace, winked at him. “How does it feel to be back in New York?”
DeMarcus flashed a grin. “I’ve been home for about two years. It feels good.”
