Keeping Score

Did the clinic’s senior partner really think she would have staged that photo? What kind of person would consider going into business with an exhibitionist? And did she want a business partner who believed her capable of such behavior?

“I’m not an exhibitionist.” Marilyn was inflexible.

Janet laughed again. “I would be.”

The conversation was degenerating. “Listen, Janet. I just wanted you to be aware of how this situation came about. I wanted you to know the truth while you’re considering my application.”

Janet’s pause was unnerving. “Marilyn, you’ll recall that when we last discussed the possibility of your joining the partnership, Dionne and I voiced our reservations with your husband’s lifestyle.”

Marilyn’s grip on the cordless phone tightened. “And I assured you that my husband does not have the kind of lifestyle that would negatively impact the clinic.”

Janet huffed a breath. “Well, the photograph that appears enlarged on the front page of the Horn illustrates otherwise.”

Marilyn’s temper stirred. She wouldn’t allow this attack against her husband. “First of all, that photograph does not appear on the newspaper’s front page. It appears on the front page of the gossip section. And, since I don’t engage in gossip, if someone else hadn’t brought it to my attention, I never would have seen it.”

“Well, I only happened across it myself,” Janet stuttered.

Marilyn ignored Janet’s interruption. “Second, making love with your spouse is not generally viewed as a high-risk or immoral act.”

“Be that as it may, it would be wiser for you and Rick to confine your intimacies to your bedroom.” Janet’s pompous response grated on Marilyn. “I trust your bedroom is on a higher floor and photographers wouldn’t be able to peek into it.”

Marilyn told herself to breath. Giving in to her anger against her prospective business partner wasn’t wise, especially since she was unemployed. “Yes, Janet, our bedroom is on a higher floor. Thanks for your concern.”

Janet must have missed the irony in Marilyn’s words. “You’re still under consideration but so is everyone else. We hope to make a decision within the next few days.”

They’d been saying that for weeks. “Thank you. I hope I’ll be hearing from you shortly. This is an opportunity I would dearly love.”

“We’ll be in touch. Either way.” Janet disconnected the call without waiting for Marilyn’s response.

Marilyn recradled the cordless phone. Janet’s parting comment hadn’t been encouraging. “We’ll be in touch” was the mother of all noncommittal responses. Still she held on to hope that she’d get the partnership with the women’s health clinic. With it, she’d fulfill her goal of being her own boss and—more importantly—having a positive impact on the community. And she could set her own hours. Maybe then she and Warrick could start a family, provided they could ever get out from under the media’s spotlight.

Marilyn turned to leave the family room. The phone rang, stopping her in midstride. Could it be Janet again, calling to discuss the partnership further? Hope was almost painful. Marilyn crossed her left fingers and grabbed the receiver with her right hand. “Hello?”

“What in the hell were you thinking? Your father almost had a heart attack when he saw those pictures of yo

u on the Internet. What were you thinking?” It was hard to understand her mother’s words as she shrieked into the phone, but Marilyn caught the gist of Celeste’s hysterical rant.

She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten her parents had established a Google Alert account to receive notices when she and Warrick were mentioned in the media. A headache blossomed from the center of her forehead like a mushroom cloud.

How often would she have to defend herself? “We were in our own home.” She opened her eyes, glaring at the shadows across the hardwood floor. “Don’t you and Father ever make love outside the bedroom?”

“Watch how you speak to me, young lady.” Celeste Devry’s voice whipped across the phone line. “Your father and I have never had sex in front of an open window.”

“Neither have Rick and I.” Marilyn’s tone was hard with disappointment. Her own parents were casting her and Warrick as the villains. Why couldn’t anyone see they were the victims?

“Come home.”

Marilyn frowned. “What?”

“You heard me. Come home. Now.” Celeste sounded like a drill sergeant directing new recruits. “This has gone far enough. Your father and I have worked too hard and too long to build this family’s reputation as people our community can look up to. Honorable, respectable, philanthropic members of society. In one day, you’ve destroyed all of that. Now there are naked pictures of our daughter taking booty calls on the Internet.”

Marilyn’s thoughts were spinning. “What do you mean photos on the Internet? There was one photo and it was in a newspaper.”

“On the New York Horn’s Web site, there are at least half a dozen pictures of you and Rick in all kinds of poses having sex.” Celeste sounded apoplectic.

“Oh. My. God.” Blood roared in Marilyn’s ears. She couldn’t catch her breath. Was she going to faint? “Mom, I have to call you back.”

“Do not hang up on me.” Celeste chewed the command. “Pack your things and come home. I told you not to marry a basketball player. He’s a professional child. He makes his money playing a game.”