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Someone stopped beside their table. “Troy Marshall. Imagine running into you here.” The silky female voice filled him with dread.
Troy stood to greet his former administrative assistant. “How are you, Mindy?”
The tall redhead tilted her head to one side. “It’s good to see you, Troy.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Barron get to his feet. “How’ve you been, Mindy?” The baller gave her a smooth once-over.
“Hello, Barron.” Mindy gave the NBA player a cool look before turning her attention back to Troy. Her voice warmed. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re no longer with the Monarchs.”
“That’s right.” He swallowed his resentment. Did his voice sound strained?
Mindy smiled. “Sounds like we have something in common. I’m still between jobs myself. But if I hear of anything for you, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
At what cost? “Thanks.”
Mindy shrugged one shoulder. “What are friends for?” Before he could react, she leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I hope to see you again. Soon.” With a toss of her hair, Mindy left the restaurant.
“What’s with you and Mindy?” There was laughter in Barron’s voice.
“Nothing.” Troy reclaimed his seat.
Barron sat again also. “Man, that didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”
“We were talking about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” Barron gave him a disgusted look. “You’re not my mother. What makes you think you can tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“That’s not an answer, Bling.”
Barron sat back in his seat. “I don’t answer to you, Troy. You’re not my coach. You don’t even work for the team anymore.” He started to stand.
Troy grabbed Barron’s left wrist from across the table and held on tight. “Sit down, Barron.” His gaze bore into the younger man, willing him to return to his seat.
Barron pulled his wrist free and sat. “Make it quick, man. I’ve got practice.”
“In three hours.” Troy’s tone was dry. “But it’s up to you how quickly we get out of here.”
Barron glowered at him. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to ease up on your drinking. You still have to play the postseason. You’ve got a shot at a ring.” Troy leaned forward to emphasize his words. “The team needs your best game now. You can’t keep playing with a hangover.”
Barron’s lips curled. “I can handle my alcohol.”
“What are you looking for in those bottles? Courage?”
Barron’s eyes glowed with anger. “Are you calling me a coward?”
Troy held his gaze. “Is there something you’re afraid of?”
Barron stood. He threw some bills on the table, then caught Troy’s eyes. “The next time you want to see me, buy a ticket to the game.”
Troy watched the Monarchs’ team captain walk out of the restaurant. His steps were careful and hesitant and unsure. Did he really believe people couldn’t tell something was wrong with him? Barron was running from everything and everyone, including himself.
From her perch at her mother’s side on the tan love seat, Tiffany turned her head toward Andrea. “My jersey is green.”
Andrea accepted the mug of tea Faith handed her as her roommate settled onto the sofa beside her. “Yes, it is. And it’s as pretty as your eyes.”
The little girl giggled and pressed her face into her mother’s side.
