Smooth Play (Brooklyn Monarchs 2)

Barron shrugged. “I have thousands of followers, man. How am I supposed to keep track of all of them?”

“Try. Andy Benson is following you.”

Barron gave him a sloppy grin. “Oh, yeah? That Sports reporter? She’s hot.”

Why did the other man’s observation rankle him? “She’s a reporter. You need to know who’s reading your messages. Do you want the press to report that you’re getting plastered at a nightclub during the play-offs?”

Barron scowled. “They’ve turned against me, too.”

“Stop giving them reasons to criticize you.” He gestured toward the player. “Do you have everything you need?”

Barron slapped both pants pockets. “Yeah, I’ve got my wallet.”

Troy followed Barron to the steps as a young male server approached. The large, circular tray the young man balanced was burdened with alcohol.

Barron stopped. “Yo, my man. If that tray is for Barron Douglas’s private group, take it back. I’m leaving and taking my credit cards with me.”

The server switched directions to carry the tray back downstairs.

Barron looked at Troy over his shoulder. “I don’t mind their company, but their freeloading gets on my nerves.”

Troy frowned. “Then why do you hang out with them?”

Barron started down the stairs. “They want a good time. I want a good time. And they don’t hassle me about basketball.”

Troy caught the verbal jab. It didn’t matter if Barron was annoyed with him. It mattered how he performed during the games. That’s why he was pulling the team captain out of the club.

He followed the athlete across the club to the exit. Barron lost his balance several times, stumbling into the club’s other patrons. Interesting that he subjected only women to his clumsiness. Troy braced himself, unhappy at the prospect of being dragged into a fight because of Barron’s childish antics. He saw a headline in his mind: MONARCHS’ CAPTAIN, MEDIA EXEC IN DRUNKEN BRAWL. Luckily, once the men recognized the klutz tripping into their dates was Barron “Bling” Douglas, they were more understanding.

Despite Barron’s attempts to antagonize the clubgoers, his celebrity got them out of the establishment unscathed. Outside, the cool mid-April breeze seemed even colder after the heat generated by the crush of sweaty bodies in the club. Troy handed the valet the ticket to retrieve his Lexus.

He watched Barron take deep breaths of the early-morning air. “Your friends in the club don’t have your back.”

“And who does? My teammates?” Barron sneered the word.

Troy didn’t react. “Yes.”

“Those punks don’t have my back. They let Coach bench me in the last sixteen minutes of the game.” Barron didn’t sound as drunk now. Was it the fresh air or his anger?

“You’re stuck on those sixteen minutes. Where were you the other thirty-two?”

Barron’s face twisted with temper. “I was leaving everything I had on the court. I was busting my ass to make the plays no one else would.”

“They couldn’t. You wouldn’t give up the ball.” Troy held up his palm. “What happens on the court is between you and Marc. My concern is the media coverage. The team can’t afford negative publicity, not when we’re trying to rebuild our fan base and increase revenue.”

Anger still sparked in Barron’s eyes. “What do I care about that?”

Troy gave the belligerent baller a hard stare. “The negative coverage affects your money, too. Do you want an advertising contract? What company wants to have their product pushed by a drunk?”

The silence between them was tense. It continued when the valet pulled up to the curb with Troy’s silver Lexus. He gave the young man a generous tip before getting behind the wheel. His irritation spiked when Barron sprawled unmoving in the passenger seat. “Buckle your seat belt.”

The point guard complied, his movement jerky. “Why’d you come for me tonight, man?”

“You mean this morning?” Troy checked his rearview and side mirrors before merging into traffic. “It’s my job to make sure the team gets only positive media. It would really help me out if you’d stop screwing around.” He let Barron hear his frustration and disappointment.

“So you left your bed—and probably a honey—at two in the morning to make sure the team gets positive press?”

“I wasn’t with a woman.”