Homecourt Advantage (23 page)

“Oh, well, if I’m disturbing you, maybe I can—”

“Don’t be silly, I always have time for my players and their lovely wives. Let me turn this TV off. The Flyers are up by nine anyway and there’s only three seconds left in the game. What can I do for you, dear?”

She’d come this far; now, how to proceed? He was, after all, Rick’s agent, and Trina assumed that Don’s loyalties would be with his client. She wasn’t very good at being cunning in these types of circumstances, and decided that the straightforward approach was her best option.

“Don, I don’t want to put you in a funny position, but I don’t know who else to ask about this.” Trina took a deep breath before continuing. “A lot of our money seems to be missing, and I don’t know where it’s gone, and I thought you might know what’s going on. I … I …”

“Go on now,” Don gently urged. “Take a deep breath.”

“I feel so foolish bothering you about this, but I need to know what Rick is doing with all of our money and I’m afraid to ask him,” Trina said nervously.

“I see.”

“Like I said, I don’t mean to put you in a funny position, but I didn’t know who else I could turn to.”

“Well, Trina, I have to tell you, this is rather awkward for me.”

“I’m sorry, Don, but do you understand where I’m coming from? I’ve got Marcus’s and Monica’s futures to think about and …” She bither lip before the news about the new baby could come tumbling out. “He hasn’t told me anything.”

“There are ethical implications for me to consider if I were to divulge certain private matters of Rick’s,” said Don.

“Certain what?”

“I have a fiduciary duty to Rick that does not allow me to discuss matters pertaining to him with outside parties.”

“Well, I’m sorry I even bothered you, Don; have a good—”

“Hey, hey. Wait a second there. I said ‘outside parties,’ not his wife. I know how Rick can be just as well as you do. I just have to know this conversation doesn’t go further than us. I don’t want him going off the deep end if he finds out that I mentioned this to you. I had actually planned on calling you about this. I don’t know how to say it, but I think Rick needs to seek professional help.”

Trina’s mind began to race.

“What kind of help? Please tell me it’s not drugs.”

“Trina, Rick has a gambling problem.”

“A gambling problem? I know Rick plays some blackjack at the casinos every now and then, but a gambling problem, that’s hard for me to believe.”

“That’s what he’s been spending all of his money on. He owes quite a few casinos a sizable amount of money. It’s definitely a problem.”

“How much money are we talking about, Don?”

“A lot.”

“What do you mean by a lot?” Trina worriedly asked.

“A whole lot. Over a million dollars.”

Trina slumped down on the chair in front of Rick’s desk, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Over a million dollars! And here, like a fool, she regularly made a point to cut out coupons when she went to the supermarket while he threw money away like yesterday’s newspapers.

“Trina, you there?” Don asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I take it you had no idea about this.”

“None.”

“I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you. Is there anything I can do to help?” Don asked with obvious sincerity.

“I don’t know,” Trina said as she felt a bout of nausea catch in her throat.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you all are far from being broke. Everything is just tied up in mutual funds and stocks.”

“Well then, why didn’t he cash those in to pay the debt?”

“Good question—one I’ve asked him maybe a hundred times myself. It sure as hell isn’t the penalty.”

Trina wasn’t educated, but she was smart. And she knew her husband. It took her about two seconds to figure out what was going on in Rick’s mind.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” she said. “I think in the back of Rick’s mind, so long as he had those funds, he wasn’t broke—so he could tell himself it was okay to gamble. You see what I’m getting at?”

“Maybe. Anyway, Rick’s been living paycheck to paycheck, spending most of the money gambling, trying to win back what he’s lost. I think I may have finally made some headway with him. He seems to have cut back, but I think he’s got to quit completely. And I don’t think he can do it cold turkey. He has to get some professional help.”

“I can’t see Rick getting that kind of help from anybody. He has too much pride.”

“Trina, he’s got to stop. That’s all I know. Otherwise he’s going to lose everything. And he knows it. If that doesn’t get through to him, I don’t know what will.”

“Me neither, Don.”

“Well, if you need anything else, call me.”

“Thank you, Don. I’ll talk to you later,” Trina said, hanging up the phone.

Don’s revelation was too large for Trina to swallow in one bite. With the door to the office closed, her children’s sweet voices a room away, she paced, contemplated, and finally got down on her knees and prayed.

“Oh, and I want to say one more thing before I go,
Phil. I just want to tell my wife, Casey, that I love her. Case, I couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” Brent said looking directly into the camera.

As Brent walked away from the Flyers sports announcer, Casey felt glued to the small television set in her home office. Smiling, she switched off the TV, stood up, stretched her long, tight limbs and headed to the kitchen. Brent could be so thoughtful and sweet at times. Certain times, Casey reminded herself.

He was so romantic, one of those men who never failed to remember birthdays, Valentine’s Day, or holidays. He seemed to look for occasions to send her exotic flowers. Why couldn’t she make up her mind to put all that trouble behind them? What held her back?

Because I have a right to be pissed off at his lying ass! Don’t I?

Casey pulled out the hazelnut coffee beans from the refrigerator and poured them into the coffee grinder. She hoped that a full potwould be enough to keep her awake during the long night of work that lay before her. She had a challenging case involving a playwright who was fighting to keep the nudity and sex scenes in his production when it debuted on Broadway in one month.

Thinking of an evening a few years before when she had just settled a particularly stressful case, Casey actually laughed aloud. She had arrived home to find a trail of candles on the floor leading to the master bathroom. Casey had followed the lights until she reached Brent in their circular Jacuzzi filled with bubbles, an oversized red bow around his neck. His final and, Casey admitted, most succulent offering was the huge erection that beckoned to her. Standing in the tub, covered in white bubbles, he had looked absolutely gorgeous and vulnerable at the same time. It had only been a matter of seconds before Casey ripped off her clothes and joined him.

When she had jumped in the steamy water, Brent had smothered her with wet kisses. He had grabbed her face in between both of his hands and whispered in her ear that it was the perfect night for making a baby.

The thought of spending an evening like that with Brent made her heart race. They had shared a closeness that most couples only fantasized about ever having, yet it seemed like years since they had experienced a truly intimate moment. That was, of course, Brent’s fault. Why had he ruined everything for them? Or was it his fault? Maybe she should think again.

Casey carefully measured water for the coffee and wondered if there was something she could have done differently to change the course their marriage had taken. Was it her fault too? After her miscarriage, Casey had to admit that she had become cold toward Brent. For months she would feel unsettled when he even touched her. And when Casey had finally agreed to having sex with Brent again, it was for the sole mission of him impregnating her. She had become obsessed with getting pregnant, and everything in her life had begun to center around her cycle.

Their lovemaking had been so mechanical back then, she wondered what part her attitude had played in driving Brent into the arms of another woman.

Not that Brent’s one-night stand could ever be excused. But occasionally Casey could not help but think how different things would have been between them if she had not become so fanatic about having a child. Had she pushed him away?

Casey jumped at the sound of the doorbell ringing. The red digital numbers on the electronic coffeemaker read 11:15
p.m.
Casey hoped it was not one of her neighbors coming over to congratulate her on the Flyers’ win. It would not have been unusual for one of the young boys who lived in the building to show up at the door trying to get first dibs on the pair of gym shoes Brent had worn in the win over the Heat.

Casey walked slowly down the long, dimly lit hallway decorated with landscape oil paintings and two beautiful Romare Bearden works they had collected at auctions and estate sales over the years. She peered through the little peephole in the mahogany door and saw the green uniform hat of one of the building’s doormen.

“Yes?” Casey said from inside her apartment.

“Mrs. Rogers, is that you?” a familiar voice answered.

“Yes,” Casey said, curious as to what he was doing at her door at such a late hour.

“It’s me, Joe. I’m sorry to come up here so late, but I didn’t know what else to do. I have a little girl out here that I’m supposed to drop off with you and Mr. Rogers,” Joe tentatively said.

“A little girl?” Casey asked in disbelief as she simultaneously swung open the door. She looked at Joe and then down at the little girl standing beside him.

Before her, dressed in miniature Levi’s jean overalls with a yellow turtleneck, was a frightened child, fighting back tears. The poor thing had on sandals, exposing chubby toes, which had to be cold on such a windy night. She had two ponytails with curly sprouts framing her round face.

“Who brought her here, Joe?” Casey asked, unable to take her eyes off the little girl. She definitely had Brent’s distinct eyes, but her coloring had a lighter cocoa shade. There was no doubt in Casey’s mind that this child was Nikki. But what was she doing in front of her door?

“Her mother, I’m pretty sure. She was calling her Mama.”

At the mention of Nikki’s mother, Casey noticed the little girl’sbottom lip begin to quiver and her eyes well up with fresh tears. Casey was at a loss. She wanted to find out more about the circumstances of Nikki arriving at their doorstep, but she did not want to upset her any more.

“Is this … woman who dropped her off still downstairs?” Casey asked, moving closer.

“No. When I told her that you were upstairs, she said that you and Mr. Rogers were expecting this little girl to visit and then she got back into a cab and left. Just like that. She was gone as quick as she came, and she handed the child over to me.”

“When’s my mama coming back?” Nikki cried.

Casey’s heart went out to the small child standing at her door, but she had no idea what to do with Brent’s little surprise package.

“Well, did she leave a bag for her or anything?” Casey asked.

“Nothing, ma’am. Like I said, that’s why I came up here so late and all. So here you go,” Joe said, pulling Nikki’s hand toward Casey.

Joe let go of Nikki and headed back to the elevator as Nikki ran up behind him.

“Mama’s downstairs. I go see my mama,” Nikki said tearfully, clinging to Joe’s sleeve.

Casey felt confused watching this little girl. Her head told her Brent never could have planned this visit without informing her. Her heart held back.

Casey walked toward Nikki until she was only inches from her and got down on her knees so she could be at the same eye level.

“Nikki, my name is Casey. Mommy thought you might like to visit with me and Brent … your father for a little while. Why don’t you come inside with me.” Casey stretched out her hand for Nikki to take.

“Where’s Mama?” Nikki asked.

“She’s coming back later.” Casey realized that she needed to employ a different tactic. “Nikki, I was thinking. I have some ice cream inside and maybe you’d like to share some with me until your mama gets back.”

Casey saw a twinge of interest spread across Nikki’s face.

“Chocolate ice cream?”

“I think I might be able to find some chocolate in the freezer if youhelp me,” Casey said, looking at Nikki hopefully. “You think you could help me find it?”

Casey sighed with relief as Nikki nodded her head yes. Holding the little girl’s hand, the two of them went inside the apartment into the bright kitchen. As they reached the refrigerator, Casey picked up Nikki and placed her on her hip so they could look in the freezer together.

“Let’s see, we have vanilla,” Casey said, peering inside the freezer.

“Nooo. Chocolate,” Nikki insisted.

“We have butter pecan,” Casey said, looking at Nikki.

“Yucky,” Nikki said, scrunching up her face.

“Ohhh, look what I found. I see some chocolate, waaay in the back.”

“Yaaay!” Nikki hollered as she bounced up and down on Casey’s

hip.

Casey removed the Häagen Dazs chocolate ice cream and placed it on the work island in the center of the kitchen. She looked down at Nikki as she rested her small head on Casey’s shoulder.

“You want it on a cone or in a bowl?” Casey said. She felt Nikki yawn against her shoulder.

“A cone,” Nikki said with her small voice.

“Okay, sweetie, you sit here while I scoop it out,” Casey said, placing Nikki on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island.

“Nooo. I want to stay with you,” Nikki said, tightly grasping Casey’s neck.

Just as Casey was reaching into the kitchen drawer to get the ice cream scooper, the phone rang. What next? Who could be calling at this hour? She was beginning to feel as if her apartment were Grand Central Station.

Casey snatched up the phone and abruptly said, “Yes?”

“Well, hello to you too,” Brent responded on the other end of the line, ecstatic, undoubtedly about the win.

Casey had no intention of wasting any time getting to the point. “Brent, did you know that we were expecting a visitor this evening?” Casey asked, not wanting to get Nikki upset.