Homecourt Advantage Read Free

surroundings. When they finally reached the morning room, Casey almost gasped. There were four enormous new eighteenth-century oil paintings on each of the four walls. The ambience made her feel like she was in a museum even if the paintings weren’t bona fide treasures. Even the frames were gilded.
    The sun highlighted the deep tones of the paintings, as well as the warm yellows and creams of the other furnishings in the room. The cumulative effect of the decor was masterful—both soft and gentle. The brown velvet sofas seemed to be overflowing with down fill, and the window treatments were canary-and-cream-striped works of art made of Scalamandre silk. There was a white marble mantelpiece, adorned with Limoges cherubs which housed roaring fires during the cold winters. Resting also on the fireplace was an exquisite floral arrangement consisting of fresh wild orchids, lilies, and baby’s breath. Casey felt intoxicated, despite the cold, harsh presence of Alexis.
    “Alexis, this room is exquisite,” Casey said.
    “It was a labor of love for me. Each room in my home is like an extension of myself,” Alexis said, clearing her throat as she motioned for Casey to sit beside her on the sofa, a sure indication she would change the subject quickly. “Casey, we’ve known each other, what … five, six years now, and I feel that I can
trust
you. You’ve always made Coach and me proud to have you in the Flyers family. You carry yourself well, you’re intelligent and articulate, and you’re an excellent envoy for your husband.”
    Alexis dropped her voice conspiratorially. “Now, we both know how important this championship is to the boys.” Alexis paused and refolded her hands in her lap.
    Casey’s toes curled at the description of her husband as a “boy” or any of the players as “boys.” The connotations were demeaning and never sat well with her, no matter how often the term was used to describe grown men, especially black ones, as were most of the Flyers players. Casey didn’t know how much longer she could take this little tête-à-tête, and she was having a difficult time concentrating on Alexis’s pitch. She was about to explode.
    “Casey? Casey? Are you following me?” Alexis asked, interrupting her thoughts.
    “Yeah,” Casey said, trying to hide her distaste.
    “Well, do you agree with me?”
    Casey shook her head, clearing her thoughts before she answered. “I agree that it’s important to carry myself in a dignified manner, but not only for my husband and his team—there are more important reasons.”
Like myself,
she wanted to say.
    “Of course, Casey, but
my
concerns pertain to a few of the other wives and significant others who are not so—how shall I put it—aware of the delicacies of being involved with a professional athlete. Do you follow what I’m saying?”
    “I hear you, Alexis, but I’m not so sure that I know what you’re getting at.”
    “Well, let me put it this way: This is a crucial year for the Flyers for a variety of reasons. With the acquisition of the new players, especially Michael Brown, we are under a lot of pressure to win. We had to give up our top three draft picks for the next four years. But in order to pull it all together we need the cooperation not only of all the players but also their
partners.
“Alexis paused again.
    Casey was totally aware that the real reason for her being there in the overstuffed, overgilded room had still not been mentioned.
    “I’m not supposed to tell you this, and none of the boys know it yet either. Brent is finding out today at the meeting, but …” Alexisstopped in midsentence and looked around the empty room as if someone might be eavesdropping before she continued. “The Flyers will be sold and moved out of New York City if they don’t bring home a championship this year.”
    “What?” Casey looked at Alexis in amazement. Was this one of her tricks?
    Alexis continued. “It would be the worst for all of