Keeping Score

“He said we were immoral for flaunting the fact that we have sex out

side the bedroom.”

Warrick saw red. Again. “Son of a—”

“He’s never been one of my favorite people, either.”

“We didn’t pay that photographer to take our picture. The newspaper did.”

“I tried explaining that to him. It didn’t work.” Marilyn’s reasonable tone was faked. Warrick heard the underlying anger.

“I’m so sorry, Mary.” How could he ever make this up to her? Was this the final straw that ended their marriage? He wished he could see her, study her expression, read her body language.

“So am I.”

“Jackie threatened the Horn with legal action to get them to turn over the photos and agree never to print them again.”

“The damage has been done, Rick. I feel as though I’ve been victimized repeatedly by the photographer, then the newspaper, now my ex-boss.” Her voice wobbled on her last words.

Warrick died a thousand deaths. “Are you on your way home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Warrick started jogging back to his car. “I don’t want you to be by yourself right now.”

Marilyn sniffled. “No, I’ll be fine. I need a little time to clear my head. And you and the team need to practice so you can beat the Waves in Miami on Sunday.”

Warrick gripped his cell phone. “The team can wait.” His tone was hard.

Marilyn expelled a breath. “You say that now, but you’d regret it Sunday.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would. Besides, we’re a one-income household now. We can’t afford the fine you’d have to pay for missing practice.” Marilyn’s response was a weak attempt at her normal humor. She was hurting and trying not to show it. Warrick had always found her inner strength attractive. But today, it made him feel worse.

“I’d pay it gladly.”

Marilyn exhaled a shaky breath. “I know you would. But, please, I just need some time alone right now. And maybe when you win the finals, this will all have been worth it.”

His heart was breaking. “I don’t think so.”

The situation with the newspaper running a photo of their lovemaking illustrated Marilyn’s point. She wasn’t the celebrity. In fact, neither of them had signed up for such a prurient invasion of their privacy. The media had gone way too far. It had lost any sense of decency.

Warrick slowed to a walk. He’d give her the time she’d asked for to process these latest events. “I can’t believe Arthur fired you because of the newspaper’s lack of morals.”

“You know, ‘ex-boss’ would sound a lot better if I’d gotten to keep my job and he’d lost his.”

Warrick forced a brief laugh. “You’re right. Are you sure you don’t want me to come home?”

“Positive.” The word came out on a breath. “I’ve never been fired before. I want to be alone right now.”

Warrick wanted to break something. Rip something apart. Pummel the photographer and the newspaper editor and cause them the kind of pain they were causing Marilyn. Why couldn’t he protect his wife?

“Mary, I’m really sorry.”

“So am I.” Marilyn’s voice was choppy with grief.

“I’d tear that newspaper apart, but it would only give the media another excuse to show that damn photograph.” Warrick ran his right hand across his forehead.