Fast Break (Brooklyn Monarchs 1)

DeMarcus’s stomach muscles knotted. He turned away from his father’s expectations. “I’ve never been on a team with a losing record. For three of the last four seasons, that’s all the Monarchs have known. We weren’t competitive in any of our preseason games.”

“Dick Vermeil said the real test comes when you lose.”

It was a struggle to keep his back straight, his voice steady. “Despite what legendary NFL coaches say, the media’s saying I’ve made a mistake. They think I’m ruining my legacy.”

“What do you think?”

DeMarcus flexed his shoulders. The tension remained. Outside, the shadows fell faster now as the autumn evening arrived. “We’ve already lost seven games. I think we’ve been tested enough.”

“Be patient. You’ll figure it out. It didn’t take one season for the Monarchs to fall to the Eastern Conference basement. You can’t expect to turn them around overnight.”

DeMarcus looked again at Julian. “You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

Julian smiled with an understanding and wisdom DeMarcus hoped to have one day. “Who knows you better than your parents?”

DeMarcus checked his silver Rolex. It was almost half past seven. “I’m going back to the office to look at more game film and prepare for the Heat.

“That’s what a champion would do.”

DeMarcus sent his father a smile before leaving the family room. “Don’t wait up.”

DeMarcus tossed the New York Sports onto Troy Marshall’s desk. The Friday morning headline read, MONARCHS’ INFIGHTING THREATENS SEASON. He relaxed his jaw. “Have you read the paper?”

Troy spun his black leather executive chair away from his computer table and pulled it under his desk. He tipped his head back to meet DeMarcus’s glower. “First thing this morning.”

DeMarcus jabbed a finger toward the newspaper. “Aren’t you supposed to prevent articles like this?”

“I’m the VP of media and marketing, not a magician.”

DeMarcus narrowed his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Andy Benson doesn’t ask my approval before she submits her stories.”

DeMarcus picked up the paper. “She writes that Serge has wanted to be traded for years.”

“That’s not a secret.” It was only eight in the morning, but Troy’s jacket was off, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. “The problem is no other team will buy Serge’s contract.”

DeMarcus scanned the article again. “She quotes Jamal complaining that he wants more ball time.”

“Jam-On-It is a ball hog. He won’t be satisfied until he’s handled the ball for the whole forty-eight minutes.”

DeMarcus’s gaze bounced around the media executive’s office. The black-lacquered furniture and silver carpeting reminded him of Jaclyn’s office. Framed reprints of newspaper articles memorializing the Monarchs’ past glory hung from his walls. Business marketing and communications awards paraded across his bookcases.

DeMarcus jerked the folded newspaper in his hand. “The team doesn’t need this distraction. What are you going to do about it?”

Confusion darkened Troy’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to ask for a retraction?”

“Based on what? We don’t like the article, but it’s not inaccurate. It’s a true picture of how the players feel and what they’ve already told us.”

“But the paper doesn’t have to print it.”

Troy sighed. “Look, I know the story hurts the Monarchs’ image. But, if I called Andy to complain, we’d make the situation worse.”

DeMarcus dragged his right hand over his hair. “The Waves didn’t have articles like this.”

“I’m not surprised.” Troy’s tone was dry. “The Waves have been winning for years. They don’t have any reason to complain.”