Free Keeping Score by Regina Hart Page A

life with another person. One other person. Because of Rick, you have to share your life with an entire city.”
    Marilyn was proud of Warrick’s success. But the constant public attention was the inevitable dark side of celebrity. “It’s not his fault that the fans give him so much attention.”
    “Whose fault is it?”
    “The media’s.” With a finger, Marilyn traced an imaginary pattern on the surface of her backpack. “And they’re getting worse. This morning, a reporter tried to follow me into the hospital for an interview.”
    Emma’s green eyes widened. “You’re kidding. What did you do?”
    She didn’t want to relive that event. “Arthur showed up.”
    “Oh, no.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut.
    “Oh, yes. The good news is he got rid of the reporter. The bad news is he blamed me for causing a disruption in the parking lot.”
    Emma opened her eyes again. “That’s not fair.”
    “That’s what I said. But you can’t reason with Arthur—unless you’re a member of the hospital’s board.”
    “You’re right. So while Rick’s becoming famous, his fame is ruining your career.”
    It sounded worse when Emma said it. “Don’t you think that’s exaggerating the situation?”
    Emma counted her fingers. “Reporters are following you to work. Your boss is blaming you for the media disruption. And Janet and Dionne still haven’t accepted your offer to join their clinic.” She dropped her hands. “To top it off, patients are complaining about you whenever the team loses.”
    Marilyn frowned. “How do you know what they’re saying about me?”
    Emma waved a negligent hand. “I’ve heard them talking in the waiting rooms.”
    Marilyn’s gaze slid away. “Talk about being unfair.”
    “Maybe Rick or his coach should tell people to stop blaming you.”
    Should he? “That would only keep the topic alive. If we ignore it, hopefully, it’ll go away.”
    Emma grunted. “I’m not so sure about that.”
    Marilyn slid her hand into her backpack, reaching for the treatment notes she’d worked on overnight. Her fingertips brushed the sharp edge of an unfamiliar object. She opened her backpack wider and pulled out a gift-wrapped package.
    “What is it?” Emma stood behind her.
    “I don’t know.” Marilyn read the gift label. “To M, From R.” She tore at the wrapping, knowing Warrick used too much tape to harbor any hope of preserving the paper.
    Marilyn’s lips stretched into a broad grin. Sandy and Danny smiled at her from the cover of the Grease compact disc.
    “I thought Rick didn’t like musicals.”
    Marilyn’s smile broadened. “But he knows I do. And Grease is my favorite.”
    “That’s such a guy thing to do.” Emma straightened away from Marilyn. “A couple of songs won’t make everything better.”
    “Speak for yourself.” Marilyn used her scissors to slit open the compact disc wrapper. “You’re welcome to stay and enjoy the songs with me, if you’d like.”
    “No, thanks.” Emma turned to leave. “I agree with Rick. People don’t just spontaneously break into song.”
    Marilyn loaded the compact disc into her laptop. She sighed as “Summer Love” played softly on the computer’s drive. If only she and Warrick could overcome their relationship obstacles with a few songs and a couple of dance moves the way Sandy and Danny had in Grease .

6
    Warrick came slowly awake Tuesday from his midday nap to the sound of the ringing telephone. What time was it? Three-thirty in the afternoon. The alarm would have gone off in another thirty minutes, giving him just enough time to get to the arena and warm up before game three of the Eastern Conference Championship.
    The phone rang again. Thinking wistfully of another thirty minutes of sleep, Warrick hit the alarm’s off button and shed the bedsheets. He strode down the hallway to use the master bedroom’s telephone extension. He should have been napping in that room. The answering machine picked up the call before he