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Warrick’s words sped up as he transitioned from sorrow to anger. “If this guy wants to take cheap shots at me, I’m up for that. I’m the one who plays for the Monarchs. My wife isn’t Mrs. Warrick Evans. She’s Dr. Marilyn Devry-Evans. She deserves respect.”
“I’ll demand an apology for Mary.” Troy spoke gingerly. “But the next headline could read ‘Mrs. Evans Cries Foul.’ Are you willing to risk that?”
Warrick spoke through clenched teeth. “If you don’t have the stones to tell the paper to take down that crap, I’ll do it myself.”
A quick ten count reminded Troy that Warrick didn’t mean to threaten his job. He was a husband reacting to his wife being publicly embarrassed. “You can do that. It might even work. But keep in mind the previous Insider post claimed Marc was only with Jackie for her money.”
Stunned silence dropped down the line. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Jackie and I agreed to ignore it.” After Troy exerted all of his powers of persuasion. “The Insider’s goal, obviously, is to post as much cheap and hurtful gossip as he can. We have to be careful how we respond. We don’t want to encourage him.”
Warrick grunted. “Your strategy to ignore him didn’t work. He followed his post about Jackie and Marc with this crap about my wife. You should have threatened him with a lawsuit then. If you had, Mary would still be with me.”
Guilt pulled on Troy’s shoulders. Was Warrick right? Troy hadn’t insisted the Horn take down the post about Jaclyn and DeMarcus because he’d been afraid it would seem as though the Monarchs considered the blogger important. Well, he considered the malicious gossip important now.
Troy dragged a hand over his hair. “Even if the Horn had taken down the post about Jackie and Marc, they still would have posted this one. This sort of malice draws readers. And readers bring in revenue.”
“You need to fix this, Troy.”
He’d never seen this side of Warrick before. The Monarchs shooting guard could keep his cool even in the face of verbal abuse and physical assaults on the court. Nothing seemed to faze him. But this morning, Warrick was angry and desperate. His desperation was shutting out reason. What was Troy supposed to say to reassure him? “I’ll get them to take down the post, Rick.”
“That’s not good enough. I want them to admit that they made up the story. We were there to get Barron, not to get laid. They lied.”
Troy’s tone was tentative. “Taking down the post won’t magically bring Mary back. If she doesn’t trust you, she’s going to need some time.”
“Why wouldn’t she trust me?” There was pain in the other man’s voice. “We’ve been married for two years. I’ve never cheated on her. I never would.”
“Ballers have a reputation.”
Warrick’s tone hardened. “I’m not some baller. I’m her husband.” He took a breath. “Make the call, man.”
“I will.” Troy tried to sound confident.
Warrick exhaled. “Thanks.”
Troy gripped his cell phone even after ending the call. The blog was becoming more destructive. He needed to find a way to stop them. But how?
8
“I love hearing about your job, Troy. But when are you going to call me because you’re depressed over a woman?” Troy’s sister sounded more irritated than concerned. He was three years older than her, but Michelle Marshall-Redding’s superior attitude often made him feel like the younger sibling.
“Today’s not that day.” Troy stood from the sofa and wandered his hotel room’s sitting area.
The room’s royal blue carpeting was soft beneath his bare feet. He circled the wood and glass coffee table and muted the ESPN sports program rerunning from this morning. He could hear his five-year-old nephew and three-year-old niece arguing in the background. Did Michelle see their history repeating itself with her children?
His sister gave his nephew and niece a few sharp words and the noise level decreased. She returned her attention to their conversation. “Look, I’m sorry that your friend’s wife left him, but how is that your fault?”
“I didn’t say it was.” But that’s how it felt.
“You sound as though you blame yourself.”
He started pacing again—long, angry strides. “Gerry’s the one to blame. He’s gone too far this time.”
The clinking of metal on metal jarred the telephone line. Michelle was loading her dishwasher. “How do you know it’s your boss?”
Troy pressed the silver cell phone against his ear. Jaclyn was his boss. Gerald was a snake in the grass who needed to be removed. “It’s his M.O. He’s using rumors and innuendo to turn our fans against us.”
“What does Jackie say?”
