Fast Break (Brooklyn Monarchs 1)

With their gazes locked, it became a battle of wills. Who would look away first? Oscar shifted his ample bulk in the black-cushioned chair. His eyes never wavered. What was the assistant coach trying to read in DeMarcus’s mind?

DeMarcus finally spoke. “What’s wrong with the team?”

“It’s losing.”

DeMarcus tightened his jaw. The pissing contest had officially started. “Speak your mind.”

Oscar didn’t blink. “Heard you were hired to lose.”

For a franchise that didn’t have any leaks, a lot of people were asking about this rumor. He’d have to talk with the media executive about that. “Your source is wrong.”

“Yeah?” Oscar didn’t sound convinced. His Brooklyn accent and attitude were in full display. If DeMarcus was going to work with the other man, he’d have to show him that the fifteen years he’d spent in South Florida hadn’t softened him.

DeMarcus leaned back in his chair. He gave his assistant coach a cool look. “Does being passed over bother you?”

The big man bristled. “I don’t want that job.”

“No?” He matched Oscar’s insolence.

“Hell, no. You think I want this cluster—” Oscar bit off the obscenity. The few gray hairs circling his round, pink pate stood on end. “Gerry doesn’t know what he’s doing. Bert can’t wipe his ass without Gerry, and Jackie doesn’t give a shit. I wouldn’t take your job on a bet.”

“Then why do you stay?” He really wanted to know.

“Because Frank Jones was one of the greatest men who ever breathed.” Oscar’s reply was just short of a roar.

How about that? DeMarcus considered the coach’s glowering brown eyes. This hostile stranger and his genial father had in common an admiration for the Monarchs’ cofounder. Sports really was the great equalizer.

DeMarcus raised his right ankle to his left knee. Now to diffuse the situation. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what?” Oscar flushed a deeper shade of pink. His rounded features quivered with rage.

“Jack cares a lot.”

The coach strained forward in his seat, still on the attack. “Then why did she allow her grandfather’s team to go to shit?”

DeMarcus flinched. Why should Oscar’s assault on Jaclyn’s work affect him? Hadn’t he accused her of the same thing? Somehow that was different. “Her grandfather’s death knocked her off balance, probably more than she’d even realized. And she trusted Gerry and Bert.”

Oscar grunted. “That was her first mistake.”

“She knows that now.”

The assistant coach gave him a speculative look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Oscar glowered a bit longer. “What’s she going to do about it?”

“Win.”

The coach barked a laugh. “With you ?”

Not a ringing endorsement. “With us.”

“You were a hell of a player. What makes you think you can coach?”

“You’ll see.” DeMarcus was getting used to the insolence. “So, what’s wrong with the team?”

Oscar grunted again. “The first thing you have to do is get them to act like a team instead of thirteen separate egos.”