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Marilyn’s temper stirred. “I’ve never said that.?
?
“You’ve thought it.” Faye shrugged a shoulder.
Marilyn gaped at the other woman. “No, I haven’t.”
Peggy sent her a confused look. “Do you think the only reason for the Monarchs Wives Club is to organize social events?”
“That’s all we talk about.” Marilyn searched their features. She saw patience and curiosity. But she didn’t see judgment or disdain. It was refreshing.
“Shit, that’s all we talk about with you.” Faye moved her neck. “We talk about other things when we travel with the team or call each other on the phone.”
Marilyn frowned. “Like what?”
Peggy shifted in her seat in the pregnant woman’s constant quest for a more comfortable position. “Like what we’re going through as the girlfriend or wife of a professional ballplayer.”
Faye sighed. “Yeah. It’s not all money, fame, and game. There’s a lot of shit we have to deal with, too.”
Susan gestured with her fork. “Family members telling us how to live our lives or asking for money. Jealous friends. The media. Basketball groupies trying to steal our men.”
“Ha! Look at her face.” Faye pointed a finger at Marilyn and laughed. “You know the score.”
Marilyn was dazed. “Only too well.”
Faye snorted. “No one understands like we do ’cause we’re going through the same shit.”
“That’s the real purpose of the Monarchs Wives Club. That’s the reason it started.” Peggy flashed a grin. “Even though some of us aren’t wives yet, we’re all here to help each other cope with issues that our family and friends can’t understand because they’ve never experienced them.”
Susan put down her fork. “People think money can buy happiness. It can’t.”
“Hell, no, it can’t.” Faye leaned into the table. “The basketball season is long and there are far too many lonely nights.”
Marilyn smiled as her companions burst into laughter. “You ladies really do understand.”
Peggy leaned back in her chair. “Yes, we do.”
Marilyn sobered, thinking of how embattled she’d felt for so many weeks. Between the media, her boss, her mother, and the woman she’d considered a friend, she could have used the sage advice of these veterans of the celebrity athlete wars.
She looked at the trio through fresh eyes. She’d thought she’d known who her friends were, but it had been these ladies all along. “I wish I’d realized sooner that I could have confided in you.”
Susan pushed her plate aside and folded her forearms on the table. “You know now. Tell us what’s on your mind.”
Marilyn stared at her plate of half-eaten chicken parmesan. “My best friend and I have known each other since college. But lately, I’ve begun to wonder if she has my interests at heart.”
Faye leaned back and crossed her arms. “One of those.”
Susan shook her head. “We’ve all been there.”
Peggy rubbed her belly. “Yes, we have. We can help you with this.”
DeMarcus planted himself in front of the Monarchs locker room door. His arms and legs were akimbo. A familiar scowl twisted his features.
“ ‘Home court advantage’ literally means you have the advantage over your opponent because you’re playing on your home court.” His speech was slow and deliberate as though he was explaining a complex concept to very young children. “Who wants to tell me what happened tonight.” He glared around the room. “Anyone?”
“We lost. Mon Dieu.” Serge’s French-accented words were burdened by disgust.
Warrick smiled at Serge’s appeal to God. He shrugged into his cream shirt and hooked the buttons. The Almighty was more inclined to help those who helped themselves. Unfortunately, the Monarchs were hell-bent on hurting themselves.
