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“Hello, Slick.” Andrea’s gaze traveled up his black European-style suit, white dress shirt, and silver tie. Her breath stopped.
He circled her chair to half lean, half sit on the table. She wished Troy had taken the empty seat beside her instead. He was too close. She could feel the heat from his body.
Troy crossed his arms. The pose emphasized the width of his shoulders. “Have Connie and her daughter moved in?”
Andrea nodded. “My roommate helped them get settled this morning. I called them after my plane landed this afternoon.”
Troy’s smile stiffened. “I look forward to reading your articles. I may learn something new.”
Andrea thought of Constance, and her muscles tightened with temper. “You said you trusted Connie.”
“I do. She’s reliable and trustworthy.”
Meaning she wasn’t? Would it even be worth the effort to change his mind?
Troy’s gaze shifted to the reporters behind her, moving up and down the row. His attention returned to her with a question in his eyes. Could he tell she was an outcast in this group? She didn’t want to know.
Andrea hurried to speak first. “I’m not the one you need to worry about. Did you read the Insider blog this morning?”
Troy’s well-formed lips tightened. “What about it?”
She was glad to have distracted him, but she hadn’t intended to make him angry. “Are you going to respond to it?”
“I’m not getting into a dialogue with that blogger. I’m going to stop the person behind it.”
Andrea blinked. “You know who the Insider is?”
“Yes. And once I expose him, the Horn will take the post down.”
“Him? Who is it?”
Troy’s gaze bounced from her reporter’s notebook to her eyes. “You’ll see.” He straightened and checked his watch. “The game’s starting soon. I’ll see you at the press conference later.”
How had Troy identified the Monarchs Insider? And how did he intend to expose the blogger?
“Benson rates a whole conversation with the guy, but he won’t even return my calls.” Sean’s sulky comment wasn’t addressed to her, and Andrea didn’t respond.
“She did write that piece exposing Gerald Bimm’s plans. Maybe Marshall thinks he owes her.” Jenna’s tone was pensive. With her flawless peaches-and-cream skin and the perpetual twinkle in her almond-shaped hazel eyes, the other woman seemed more suited for broadcast news than print journalism.
Should she consider it progress that they were talking about her although they still weren’t talking to her? She’d brought their treatment on herself. But how much longer would it last?
“How did the Monarchs make it to the play-offs?” Jenna Madison sounded as stunned as Andrea felt.
Andrea studied the Monarchs as the game clock counted down the final two minutes of the first half. The players looked like they were sleepwalking through this first twenty-four minutes of the game. Their sloppy passes and flat-footed defense had made the Cavaliers look like legends. As a reporter, Andrea had to remain objective. But more than once, she’d wanted to jump to her feet and scream, “Wake up!”
“Cleveland owes their double-digit lead more to the Monarchs’ mistakes than their own skills.” Frederick Pritchard of the Daily News was more interested in the numbers of the game than the emotions. He was a human calculator with a sports media pass.
The halftime score was careening toward an embarrassing 55 to 35, Cavaliers. Those 35 points were mainly courtesy of forward Serge Gateau and center Vincent Jardine. The team hadn’t even completed the first quarter before head coach DeMarcus Guinn had used all but one twenty-second time-out.
Jenna glanced around. “Cavs fans don’t care how their team got their lead. They just love the score.”
The Times reporter was right. Early in the second quarter, the Cavaliers’ fans were so loud, Andrea feared the roof would collapse.
“Fan frenzy’s never a good thing for the visiting team.” Sean Wolf studied the crowd. “It’ll be hard for the Monarchs to get into the game. They’ll probably be swept out of the series.”
Andrea was desperate to join the debate. But she knew the other reporters wouldn’t welcome her contributions. Instead she listened, agreeing with most comments and disagreeing with a few. For example, she didn’t think the Monarchs would be swept as Sean predicted. DeMarcus Guinn wouldn’t allow that.
The coach looked furious. The Monarchs had more turnovers than possessions and more fouls than scores. They’d sent Cleveland to the free throw line so often that Andrea thought Cleveland’s power forward, Antawn Jamison, should just stand at the line for the rest of the half.
