Homecourt Advantage (13 page)

“Well,” Remy began before letting out a long yawn, “I’m pretty beat myself and I know you have to work in the morning. I’ll settle for a lift home and a rain check.”

“You got it—on both counts.”

As Casey started the car, she hoped this first game was not an indication of what lay before her during the rest of the play-offs. Yeah, the Flyers had won, but the personal scores seemed much too high a price to pay.

Steve Tucker’s temples throbbed as he cruised along
the Henry Hudson Highway. He checked his rearview mirror and saw Kelly passed out in the backseat. Diamond was stretched out next to her mother, soundly sleeping. It pained Steve and pissed him off at the same time to see how Kelly had fallen apart after their breakup. He understood that she was having a difficult time accepting his decision, and he was trying to be patient with her for the sake of Diamond. But it was never easy with Kelly, and he was nearing the end of his rope dealing with her bullshit. She was a passionate, compulsive woman, and ever since their problems began a couple of years ago, she’d become unbearably possessive. She was definitely in serious denial about their relationship. And lately she’d taken out her frustrations by drinking, which had really begun to worry Steve. He wanted to help her, but she was so high-maintenance. In fact, she said she’d get help, but only by going to couples counseling rather than rehab.

Steve listened to Kelly’s breathing become heavier as she changed position. There was no doubt about it, she was a beautiful woman. It was a shame to see her turning into someone nasty, angry, and ugly. Well, nastier than she had been if that was possible. Kelly refused to take responsibility for her own actions. She blamed everyone else for her problems. She claimed that other women had interfered with their engagement, that Steve was the reason she constantly drank, and it wasn’t her fault that Diamond was frightened all the time by her mother’s erratic behavior. Her will was relentless, but it was concentrated on the wrong things. Steve shook his head in bewilderment.

Looking at the city skyline as he drove across the George Washington Bridge, Steve felt a pang of regret that he had sent Stephanie home. He wanted her with him right now. Sometimes he felt as if he was never going to be able to move on with his life. Kelly was like gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Although he had broken off their engagement over a year ago, he still allowed her to live in his mansion, while he had relocated to a small apartment in Manhattan. Occasionally he did have a slipup and would sleep with her. He was powerless against a certain access code she had to him sexually, and in moments when they clicked, it was impossible to turn her down. Because he felt guilty over this and sorry, he had even continued giving her tickets to the games until last month. But her behavior at the games was becoming so inappropriate that Coach had warned Steve and had firmly suggested that she not come to any more games. It was apparent to Steve that he wasn’t doing Kelly any favors; he was playing a role in her fatal attraction. And the poor child sleeping so sweetly in the backseat, content to be snuggled up with her mom—it felt like a maze he couldn’t find his way out of. Then there was the issue of Stephanie.

Steve had met Stephanie at a party in downtown Manhattan. She was beautiful and smart. Steve was relieved to learn that she was divorced; to him, it meant she was realistic about relationships. She would know if it wasn’t meant to be. For the past month since they’d been seeing each other, Steve had been trying to convince Stephanie to come see him play, but she had gently declined until he straightened out his business with Kelly. Steve had assured Stephanie that Kelly nolonger received any tickets, and ironically, tonight had been the first time Stephanie had finally agreed to come to the Mecca.

Steve pulled up the long driveway to the massive contemporary house Kelly had chosen in Alpine, New Jersey. He reached for the garage opener that he used to keep attached to his sun visor but did not feel it there.

“Kelly … Kelly …” Steve said leaning over the seat.

Kelly did not stir. Steve got out of the car and walked to the rear passenger door and lightly shook her shoulders. She began to move a bit before slowly opening her eyes.

“Hey, baby. Where are we?” Kelly said in between yawns.

“You’re home. Can you make it out of the car all right? I’ll get Diamond if you open the garage,” Steve said as he leaned across Kelly to pick up Diamond.

“Is Daddy going to spend the night with us?” Kelly said, stumbling out the backseat onto the redbrick driveway.

“No. Daddy is not going to spend the night. I just want to make sure you and Diamond get to bed safely. Now, will you open the garage?”

Kelly opened the garage and wobbled inside. Steve carried Diamond, careful not to awaken her. The house had never felt like home. It was a showplace for all that Kelly coveted. At the time, he had readily agreed. He had been so ecstatic about her pregnancy with Diamond.

Steve effortlessly strode up the wide spiral stairway that was closest to Diamond’s room. It smelled sweet, like Baby Magic lotion. It reminded him of the good that came out of his relationship with Kelly. Diamond was such a gorgeous little girl, just like her mother. It was sad that he and Kelly had grown apart. Rather, Steve had grown up and Kelly had remained the same high-strung teenage girl he’d met years ago back in Atlanta.

Kelly had been the first woman he had ever slept with, and to date, the very best. But the sex had not been enough to sustain a meaningful relationship. Emotionally, mentally, and culturally, Steve had grown to a different plane than Kelly, and over the past three years, their lives had taken separate directions. It was no one’s fault, it was just a factthat Steve was unable to overlook anymore—even for the sake of Diamond.

Steve removed Diamond’s clothes and changed her wet pull-up diaper. She was just reaching the age when the cute baby fat on her legs was becoming lean. He pulled her Winnie the Pooh nightgown over her head and laid her down in her new toddler bed. Steve kissed her on the forehead and, not being able to resist himself, nuzzled both of her chubby cheeks. He watched her slow, even breathing for a few moments before he tore himself away.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Steve said as he left her nursery and headed to the double case stairway.

“You’re not leaving now, are you, Daddy?” Kelly slurred at the top of the staircase in a black lace negligee.

“Kelly, you should really get some rest,” Steve said, pushing past her down the stairs. He was anxious to hurry and leave before he did anything he might regret later.

He picked up his pace as he heard Kelly clamoring after him.

“But you just got here. Don’t you want to have a nightcap or something with me?” Kelly whined.

“Kelly, you’ve had enough to drink for one evening. Why don’t you just get some sleep?” Steve said, continuing toward the garage door.

“You’re not leaving, Steve. This is your home here with me and Diamond,” Kelly said, running up behind him.

“Good night, Kelly,” Steve said as he opened the door leading to the garage.

“How do you think you’re going to get home without these?” Kelly said, dangling his car keys so they made a menacing clanking sound.

Stopping in his tracks, Steve turned around to face Kelly. “Kelly, give me those keys. I’m not playing with you.”

“If you can catch me, I’ll give them to you, but only after you play with me first.” Kelly began to run toward the first-floor master bedroom.

“Kelly, stop this. You’re behaving like a child.”

Steve began to take long strides toward Kelly but he refused to chase after her.

“Come and get me, Steve!” Kelly said as she reached her bedroom.

When Steve caught up with Kelly, she was stretched out on the bed with her hands behind her head underneath a tan silk pillow. Steve stood at the foot of the bed and forced himself to keep that access button turned off. Remember, she’s more trouble than the sex is worth, he told himself.

“Kelly, stop acting stupid and give me the damn keys.”

“Come and get them. They’re just behind my head; you know where that is, don’t you?” Kelly teased.

The bell went off in those parts of his body and mind he could not control. He felt himself begin to perspire, always a bad sign when he was in Kelly’s presence. He knew if he wanted to get out of there with his pants on, he would have to move—now.

Before Kelly had a chance to react, Steve quickly reached under the pillow, snatched the keys out of her grip, and literally ran out of her bedroom through the foyer and the kitchen, out the garage and into his car.

Starting his midnight blue 600 SEL Mercedes, he sighed with relief. Getting away from her tonight seemed as important as escaping a raging tigress. Steve was determined. Stephanie was his woman now, and he had no intention of destroying that relationship.

It was far too precious and genuine.

“Come on, Tony, it was a good take!” Remy impatiently
hollered to her favorite video director. Well, sometimes favorite, except on days like this when he insisted on doing twenty takes of every scene. It wasn’t as if her video was going to be up for an Oscar. “No, Remy, not even a little bit. It sucked; you weren’t even with me.” “Tony, cut me some slack,” Remy said, squinting her eyes to catch a glimpse of the red glowing digital numbers above the camera. It seemed as if she had been at the studio forever.

“Remy, it’s three minutes later than the last time you checked the clock.” Pam, the costume designer, looked at Remy and rolled her eyes.

“For God’s sake, I’m squeezed into this thing like a damn sardine! I can hardly breathe,” Remy said, trying to adjust the snug suede vest whose straps crisscrossed at least a hundred times over her back. “I need some air,” Remy said, clenching the garment’s neck.

“Stop acting like such a goddamn diva! You’ve been missing in action all day, girl. What the hell is wrong with you?” It was obvious Tony was furious, but Remy couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t take one more minute in the outfit. She wanted to get out of there.

“Listen, no one is going to believe me when I sing ‘Happiness Is Divine’ when I look like I’m choking to death,” Remy said, loosening the leather straps, really thinking no one was going to believe her because she was so unhappy.

She stepped down off the set, which was designed to look like a fifties retro lounge. Remy inched toward Tony with a pathetic expression on her face, hoping he’d call a wrap. Tony had directed her in three of her most popular music videos. He was known for pushing everyone—cast and crew—like workhorses, especially Remy. He expected a lot from her, and she knew she shouldn’t test his patience for fear that he would not work with her anymore. But she was playing a role today that she wasn’t capable of handling.

It was already five o’clock and she knew Tony could shoot and reshoot all night. She always operated at a high energy, but he managed to surpass even that limit. On most occasions. Today her thoughts were far too preoccupied with Collin to give any of herself to Tony, the camera, or her fans.

“Get on out of here, Remy. I know you want to see your man play at the Mecca tonight,” Tony said dismissively.

Naturally Tony and everyone else on the set would assume that was the reason she was so anxious to leave. Why wouldn’t they? Weren’t she and Collin supposed to be the “hot” couple of New York City? How could she explain to them that her relationship was crumbling because her boyfriend was under too much pressure to confide in her? Collin had too much pride to turn to her for strength or for anything else these days.

“Tony, you’re a doll. Thanks. I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” Remy said, keeping up the front as she threw her stuff into a Louis Vitente carryall bag and headed for the door.

“Can you blame her? I’d be hurrying over to the Mecca, too, if I had a chance to check out that fine ass rookie Michael Brown in shorts,” Pam said.

“Shoot, if I had Collin DuMott waiting for me, I’d be rushing too. And the play-offs? Who can blame you, girl? I’d split for there just to see who was in the audience.” Remy’s hairdresser gave Pam a high five.

“Try to get some sleep tonight,” Tony barked after Remy. “We start at seven sharp tomorrow morning. I want to get to the Brooklyn Bridge scene by early afternoon.”

“Sure, sure, Tony, see you tomorrow,” Remy said, letting the door of the studio slam behind her.

Once in the limousine heading uptown, Remy thought about everyone’s fascination with celebrities—especially when two of them dated. It sometimes bothered her that people thought her relationship with Collin was public property since she and Collin were both public figures. Even her own staff sometimes overstepped the line. Remy had a huge, possessive fan base. One of the major appeals of her music was its “mood-shaping” effect. Remy’s music was uplifting, inspirational, and soulful. Her music and lyrics were often said to make one feel like a bird taking off on a fantastic voyage.

Now that she and Collin were “public,” these fans, as well as a number of her friends, frequently assumed that any mood fluctuations she experienced were directly attributable to Collin. When she made live appearances, if the mood she projected was sexy, it was often perceived as insight into their love affair. Her public thought that by following Collin’s statistics, they could evaluate the status of their relationship.

At home in her SoHo loft with its soaring ceilings, she realized it was only one hour until tip-off. She had been teetering all day about whether to attend the game. Last night Collin had left what amounted to an obligatory message on her machine about leaving her tickets for the second game against Philadelphia. His tone had been noncommittal as far as any plans after the game were concerned. Sitting down on her vanity chair, Remy peeled the skintight buckskin skirt off her toned thighs. She looked at herself in the mirror before removing the charcoal makeup from around her delicately slanted eyes, which she had inherited along with her straight jet black hair from her Japanese father. But her tan complexion and full lips came directly from her Haitian mother.