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“Good evening, Mr. Marshall. There are several other Monarchs players here to see you, sir.” The usually unflappable Ted sounded starstruck.
What were they doing here? Serge must have told the whole team. He gritted his teeth. “Thanks, Ted. I’ll be right down.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Marshall.”
Troy recradled the security phone and collected his keys. “A couple of the other guys are here. I’m going down to meet them. Drink the water.”
“You’re not my mother.” Barron brought the glass to his lips.
Troy locked his condo and took the elevator back downstairs. At the lobby, Serge, Warrick, Anthony, Vincent, and Jamal stood around the security desk looking as grim as the Monarchs fans who’d attended the first two play-off games.
Troy caught Serge’s eyes. “You told them?”
The Frenchman looked defiant. “Yes.”
Anthony stepped forward. “You should have told us. ‘Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’”
Vincent tapped Anthony’s shoulder. “Hey, St. Anthony. Troy’s not asking us to lay down our lives, man. He just needs a friend.”
“Come upstairs.” Troy interrupted before the scowl on Anthony’s face turned into a heated exchange in the posh lobby of the upscale building.
He nodded toward Ted before leading the Monarchs upstairs. When he let them into his condo, Troy found Barron searching his kitchen.
The point guard glared at him. “Where do you keep the liquor?”
Serge entered Troy’s home, followed by his teammates. “It looks as if you’ve had enough.”
Barron turned his glare on the Frenchman. “Who asked you, man?”
Troy went to the coffeemaker. “I’ll pour you some coffee. Does anyone else want some?”
Warrick accepted Troy’s offer, but Serge, Anthony, and Vincent requested ice water. Jamal wanted orange juice. After filling everyone’s request, Troy moved the players into his living room.
Warrick lowered himself beside Troy on the sofa. “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I know it’s not your fault Mary left. I was angry and being stupid.”
Troy nodded. “You had a right to be upset. Have you heard from her?”
Warrick stared into the mug of coffee. “No. I’ve left messages, but she hasn’t returned any of them.”
The other man was hurting. “Give her time, Rick. She knows you’d never cheat on her.”
Warrick searched Troy’s gaze. “I keep telling myself the same thing every night before I go to bed—alone.”
Serge joined them on the sofa. He glanced at Warrick’s coffee mug. “All that cream? And sugar, too?” He feigned a shiver of revulsion. “Is there any coffee in there?”
Troy smiled. Warrick took a long drink of the coffee, then smacked his lips. Serge shook his head.
Jamal examined Troy’s home entertainment system. “What does Gerry know about handling the media?”
“Not a damn thing.” Vincent sat in one of the armchairs near the picture window, drinking his water.
Troy tensed. Gerald could break the fragile foundation of the Monarchs’ rebuilding season in one day. “Just don’t give the media any reason to attack you. Whatever happens in the locker room stays in the locker room.”
Warrick jerked his head toward Barron, who sat across the room. He pitched his voice low. “In other words, keep Bling away from the press.”
Serge sent Barron a dubious look. “Who’s going to take him home?”
Troy watched the Monarchs team captain sway slightly in the chair. “He might as well stay here. If he goes home, he’ll just keep drinking.”
