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Gerald’s voice rose with his anger. “It’s a lie the Jones family spread about my uncle.”
Troy knew that wasn’t true. “You got yourself banned from the NBA for life to punish Jackie’s family for not giving your uncle credit for the Monarchs’ success?” Did Gerald hear how insane that was?
Gerald cocked his head. “Sound familiar?”
“No.” What was Gerald implying?
“You’ll take any risk to protect the Monarchs, just as I’ll go to any length to avenge my family.”
Troy’s stomach turned. “I’m nothing like you.”
Gerald laughed. “You got yourself fired trying to protect the Monarchs.”
Troy’s face burned. “A lot of people were hurt by the Insider.”
Gerald smirked. “Whenever the media runs a story that you don’t like about the team, you punish them. How can you blame me for punishing Jackie for the way her family treated my uncle?”
Troy stiffened. “It’s my job to protect the team’s image.”
“You alienated the media because they didn’t always write positive stories about the Monarchs.” Gerald’s lips stretched into a wide, mocking smile. “How does that old saying go? ‘There’s no such thing as bad press.’”
Troy leaned back in his chair. “The fact is, you’re blaming Jackie and her family for your uncle’s mistakes.”
“And who are you blaming when you strike out at the media for taking potshots at your team?” Gerald stood. “We’re alike. We both have something to protect and we’re willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish our goal.”
Troy watched Gerald leave his office. The former Monarchs co-owner was wrong. They were nothing alike. Gerald was the one deluding himself about his uncle. Popular opinion was that Quinton Bimm had been a drunk and a philanderer. He’d have bled the franchise dry.
Troy wasn’t blaming other people for his mistakes. He wasn’t out for revenge. He was hard on the media because the media were hard on his team. This was about the team. It had nothing to do with him.
The screeching telephone interrupted Andrea as she second-guessed herself Thursday morning. Thank goodness. She rubbed an area on the left side of her chest, cleared her throat, then lifted the receiver. “Sports. Andrea Benson.”
“You made me sound good.” Barron sounded surprised.
Andrea was surprised as well. She’d only given Barron the draft of the feature she’d written about his personal and professional struggles that morning after working on it Tuesday evening and all day Wednesday. “You’ve already read the story?”
“Twice.”
Andrea checked her wristwatch. It was barely eleven o’clock. “I just sent it to you an hour ago.”
“It was a fast read.”
That was a good start. But was the story worth it? Which should she choose, her lover or her career?
Andrea tapped out the computer key commands that pulled the electronic version of the feature onto her monitor. “Are you comfortable with it?” Did she want him to take the decision out of her hands? Andrea blushed. She didn’t know.
“Like I said, you made me sound good.”
Andrea heard papers shuffling in the background as though Barron was reviewing the draft for a third time as they talked on the phone. “Did you think I’d make you sound like the villain?”
“Well, yeah.” His voice deepened with regrets. “I let my teammates down. I let my coaches down. I let everybody down. The fans. Myself.”
Andrea hurt for him. “You’re not a bad person, Bling. You just need help working through some things. Like I did.”
Barron grunted. “You didn’t turn out too bad.”
Andrea chuckled at the stingy praise. “And you’ll be fine, too. But in the meantime, are you sure you want to go with this article? You don’t have to. I’ll understand if you want me to pull it.”
Barron didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go with it. I mean, this article will help people. And, you know, after all the people I hurt, I want to help some. You know what I mean?”
