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She refused to give up hope. Just as she still hoped the Monarchs could win even one of their games against the Knicks despite their convincing loss the night before. “Only if you told me I could.”
“Why should I tell you anything?” His words slapped at her.
Andrea slapped back. “Because I’ve been where you are now. And, if you don’t get yourself together, you’re going to end up where I was. I can assure you, it’s not a pretty fall. It’s an even uglier landing.”
His surprised expression diffused her temper. “You’re an alcoholic?”
“I’m a recovering alcoholic.” It didn’t shame her to admit that as it had in the past. “I lost everything—my job, my home, my reputation—before I convinced myself to stop drinking. You’ve lost your starting spot. How much more are you going to give up before you take control of your life?”
Barron ran his palm over his thick, black braids. They were longer now than they had been at the beginning of the season. He looked away from her to stare across the room, but Andrea didn’t think he saw the dented and dusty boxes piled against the opposite wall. His eyes were focused on a spot farther away.
“Why are you here, Barron?”
He didn’t answer right away, but Andrea knew he’d heard her. She could tell by the stillness in his posture and the awareness in his eyes.
Barron leaned his elbows on the conference table and dropped his forehead into his palms. “I think I need help.”
“Why?” Andrea clenched her fists. She wouldn’t push him. No matter how much she wanted to. She would not push him.
Barron raised his head. He folded his hands together on the table. “I’ve wanted an NBA championship ring since I was eleven years old. Now I’m in the play-offs after thirteen seasons. I’m finally in the play-offs. And I’m blowing it.”
He glanced at her as if to see whether she was listening to him. In silence, he looked away.
“Why do you think you’re blowing it?” She knew the answer. Did he?
Again, he didn’t answer right away. Barron arched his back as though easing the tension building there. “Because I’m scared.”
Andrea’s own muscles began to relax. She exhaled in quiet relief. “Of what?”
“That I’m not good enough. That I don’t belong.”
“So you’re sabotaging yourself by not practicing and not working out. And you’re getting drunk every day.”
Barron hunched his shoulders. “I drink because it makes me feel better.”
“Do you want to get drunk or do you want a ring?”
Barron met her gaze. “I want a ring.”
“What are you willing to do for it?”
He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands again. “I don’t know.”
So close. Andre
a leaned forward. “Does the next drink matter more to you than playing in the NBA? Than earning a championship ring?”
Barron hesitated. “No. I need to stop drinking. I know I’m ruining my career. But I don’t think I can stop.”
She wouldn’t tell him that if she could do it, he could, too. She wouldn’t minimize his fears that way. But she had to help him face them. “It isn’t easy, but you don’t have to do this on your own. The NBA will find a program to help you.”
Seconds ticked by, growing into minutes. Andrea watched Barron stare down the table. Finally, he nodded. He settled deeper into his seat and let his head fall back. “I’ll try.”
Andrea swallowed a sigh of relief. “Only one percent of college basketball players make it to the NBA. You’ve beaten the odds before, Barron.”
A slow smile vanquished the tension across his face. “Yeah, I did.” He turned to her. “What about your article?”
Andrea stood. She was almost giddy with success. “I wasn’t after a story. I wanted to help you. I didn’t want you to go through what I went through.”
