Keeping Score

She turned to Susan. “There aren’t any casinos in Brooklyn. Besides we need to keep our expenses low to raise as much money as we can.”

Susan, who’d married Monarchs point guard Darius Williams more than four years earlier, shrugged a bony shoulder. “Then we’ll drive to Atlantic City. It’s not far.” Her mocha brown cheeks flushed and her dark brown eyes glittered with excitement. “A trip to Atlantic City would be the bomb. It would add to the glamour of the event.”

Peggy rubbed her belly. “I don’t know, Susan. I’m six months pregnant. I can’t drive to Atlantic City. I’d have to stop every ten minutes to pee.” She patted her left hand over her hair. The twenty-four-carat pink diamond engagement ring sparkled against her baby fine ash blond hair.

Susan kissed her teeth. “There are rest stops all over the interstate. Just pull over and use one.”

Marilyn coughed as her bite of ravioli traveled down the wrong pipe. She caught her breath, drawing in the heady scents of rich spices and tangy tomato sauce. Heaven. She swallowed a drink of water from her glass. “Keeping it in Brooklyn would also guarantee that more people attended.”

Susan’s expression was frustrated. “You just said Brooklyn doesn’t have any casinos.”

Count to ten. “The church’s fund-raiser doesn’t have to be in a casino. We could hold it in the Morning Glory Chapel’s recreation room.”

Susan’s lips formed a perfect O. “A rec room? That’s so tacky.”

Faye Ryland, point guard Jarrett Hickman’s longtime girlfriend, nodded. Her orange-tipped dark brown bangs swung across her eyes. “That’s a good idea. The fund-raiser is for the Morning Glory anyway. Atlantic City is three hours away. Shit. A lot of people aren’t going to want to make the trip. Especially at night.”

Marilyn sipped her ice water. “And especially with gas prices so high.”

Susan gave her a shrewd look. “But that’s not a problem for you, right? You can afford it.”

Here we go again. “So could most of the people on our guest list. The point is, the less they have to spend to attend the event, the more they’ll spend at the event.”

Susan’s constant and transparent attempts to find out how much she and Warrick made was one of the reasons she disliked the Monarchs Wives Club meetings. Surely, the club’s president knew Warrick’s salary—as well as the salary of every other NBA player—was posted on the Internet, much to Marilyn’s dismay. Maybe Susan did and she was only after Marilyn’s income figure. Well, that information wasn’t for public consumption. Their friends, family, neighbors, and perfect strangers already knew too much about them.

Faye waved a forkful of pasta. “Mary’s right. When are we going to have this party anyway? It feels as though we’ve been talking about this shit for months.”

Peggy shifted in her chair. “That’s because we have been talking about it for months.”

Susan traced her glass of wine with the well-manicured tip of a black-polished fingernail. “The first Saturday in August. The players and coaches should be over the championship loss by then.”

Marilyn looked at the other women in surprise. “They could actually win the conference championship. In fact, they may even win the finals.”

Susan’s laughter was genuine. “Maybe the view from the owner’s box is a little rosier, but those guys will have to play a lot better if they’re going to win.”

Peggy’s gray eyes clouded with confusion. “Why were you invited to the owner’s box? None of us have ever been there.”

Faye looked resentful. “Yeah. What makes you the shit? You hardly even come to the home games and you’ve never been to the away games.”

Susan spoke before Marilyn could answer. “You know, you really should travel with Rick to the away games.”

“Why?” Marilyn sneaked a peek at her Rolex. How much longer would she have to be here?

“Why?” Faye mimicked Marilyn, then barked a laugh. “To make sure your man isn’t creeping around on you with these groupies.”

Marilyn ignored a stirring of irritation. “Rick doesn’t creep around.”

“How do you know?” Susan took the tone of a prosecuting attorney cross-examining a hostile witness.

Peggy rubbed her belly. “Oh, honey, wake up and smell the coffee. All men cheat.”

Faye shook her head as though with pity. “Other women are treacherous. They’re always trying to get your man. And what man can resist no-strings booty?”

Peggy nodded, her hands still on her belly. “Remember the club in Cleveland? Rick went with them. What do you think they were doing there?”

Marilyn frowned at the knowing looks and the shaking heads. “They were looking for Barron.”

The whole team had been concerned over Barron’s self-destructive behavior.