Keeping Score Read Online Free

sneakers squeaked against the gleaming hardwood floor as he crossed the practice facility to stand sulking on the sideline. Would they ever get through to the rookie? Almost a year ago, Jamal had left Michigan State University after his freshman year. One and done. Now, at the age of nineteen, he had a seven-figure contract with the Monarchs. He had the skills, the payday, and the job. When would he get the maturity?
    DeMarcus blew his whistle, a wordless command for the team’s full attention. He heaved the ball at Warrick. “Show me what you’ve got.”
    Warrick caught the basketball at chest level. Hadn’t he been doing that all season? What more was his coach looking for? Warrick dribbled the ball while he considered his next move. He was Marlon Burress playing against his longtime teammate and fellow future hall-of-famer. What would Burress do? Warrick got into character, giving DeMarcus a small, taunting smile. His coach’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Warrick feinted right, then spun left, switching the ball to his left hand.
    DeMarcus moved to Warrick’s left. He gestured toward point guard Darius Williams, a bench player wearing the starters’ black jersey. “Box him in.”
    Darius crowded Warrick on his right, blocking his access to the paint. The bench players swarmed the perimeter in a ring of white jerseys. The starters clad in black covered them. With Warrick double teamed, one of the white jerseys was left undefended. Warrick exchanged a look with Roger Harris, his open teammate. A split second of silent communication.
    Get ready.
    Warrick heaved the ball into the open lane. Roger snatched it from the air and slammed it into the basket. Two points.
    Adrenaline rushed through Warrick. He clenched a fist. From the sideline, Jamal cheered. Warrick turned to jog back up the court. The sound of DeMarcus’s whistle brought him up short.
    DeMarcus stood with his hands on his hips and a reluctant smile easing his expression. “I didn’t see that coming.”
    Warrick faced his coach. “You thought Burress would take it in.”
    DeMarcus chuckled. “He usually does.”
    Warrick wiped sweat from his brow. “That’s why he would’ve passed.”
    Jamal ran onto the court and stopped beside DeMarcus. “In your face! In your face!”
    DeMarcus gave the younger man a look that humbled him. Jamal joined the other starters.
    Oscar Clemente, the Monarchs’ first assistant head coach, drew nearer. His intense dark eyes gleamed. “You beat him with your mind.”
    Warrick nodded. “Burress plays smart as well as hard. If he’s up against someone who knows his moves, he’ll do something unexpected.”
    Oscar smoothed back the few gray hairs circling his rounded pink pate. His expression was smug. “You read your opponents the same way Marc does.”
    That was the second time Oscar had made a comment comparing him to DeMarcus. What was the old guy up to?
    DeMarcus took his clipboard from Jamal. “Rick, I’m putting you on Burress. You know his moves and what he’s thinking. Jamal, you take Millbank.”
    Jamal sighed. “Whatever. I just hope we can finish one series without having to go all seven games. I’m tired.”
    Warrick cleared the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t care how many games we have to play as long as we get the ring in the end.”
    Oscar glanced at DeMarcus. “Spoken like a champion.”
    DeMarcus jerked his chin toward Warrick. “Rick, get a black jersey. Darius, put on the white one.”
    Warrick breathed easier. He was still on the starting roster. He hustled to the benches to grab a fresh black jersey. He’d won the fight to save his starting position. Now if he could win the battle to save his marriage, he’d have everything he’d ever wanted.
     
     
    Marilyn took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and exhaled. The meeting room of the Linden Boulevard Women’s Health Clinic was scented with peach potpourri. She checked her posture and concentrated on not fidgeting. Her gaze