Read Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) for Free Online

learned the way the game was played. These tricks, white, black, Latina, Asian, Martian, whatever, were relentless in their pursuit of our men. And thanks to sites like Balleralert, those hookers could track their movements, share their hookup tips, and post their freaky sexcapades with players. Not to mention the whores that would flash their bare vayjayjays from the stands as players ran up and down the basketball court, and the bitches that would bribe a hotel housekeeper to let them into a player’s room and would lie naked across his bed, willing to do whatever he wanted after a game on the road. I heard so many unbelievable groupie-gone-wild stories from the other NBA wives that my guard was up even though I thought that wouldn’t ever be something we would have to deal with. I trusted Marcus, and I knew he loved me.
    For the first four years of our marriage, we were blissfully happy. I stayed home and raised Damon, putting aside my career dreams and telling myself my priority should be my family. I traveled with Marcus as much as I could, but three years ago I started to notice a change in Marcus as his star really began to rise and the pressure on his career increased along with the temptations. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of my husband. Whether it was the media dissecting and critiquing every step he made on the court on SportsCenter , the coaching staff pushing him and his teammates to bring home a championship, or other players in the league trying to make a name for themselves by talking trash to or about him on court and in their own interviews, the pressure was intense. The worst for me was the chatter on the blogs. Instead of covering Hollywood’s leading men, they soon wanted to cover nothing but basketball players, their million-dollar contracts, lavish lifestyles, and sexcapades. The attention was relentless as the sites posted every picture they could get and featured straight-up lies speculating about players’ relationships, marriages, and sexuality. It was a dirty business. I tried to stop reading them, but of course whenever friends and family members saw something about Marcus, they always forwarded the li nks to me.
    As the years went on, I tried to hold things down at home. But during the season, it seemed like he was barely home, and when he was, he was distant and short with me. I wanted to have another baby, but Marcus kept saying it wasn’t the right time. It seemed like what media thought of him meant more to him than what I or his son did. Sometimes when Marcus was on the road, I tried to call him in the middle of the night to make sure everything was OK. When I couldn’t reach him, I’d reach out to Kareem, who was always traveling with his one and only client, and then I’d get a call back from Marcus with some excuse about missing my call while in the shower. I didn’t want to believe what my instincts were trying to tell me, but when photos of Marcus and beautiful women at nightclubs began popping up on the gossip blogs, I knew I could no longer ignore what I felt. When I questioned what was going on, he denied he was having affairs. But when my husband stopped trying to have sex with me, especially after he’d been on the road, I knew he had to be getting it from somewhere.
    I thought about hiring a private detective, but I was afraid the tabloids would find out, so I knew I had to figure it out on my own. My first stop was Marcus’s cell phone, which wasn’t easy to get because he kept it attached to his body like an extra kidney. He jumped whenever it buzzed with an incoming text message or ran across the room to retrieve it whenever it rang. He even took it into the bathroom with him when he showered, claiming he was expecting an important call from the coach or Kareem. So one night while he was sleeping, I went looking for his phone.
    He had long since stopped charging it on the nightstand next to our bed, so the first place I looked was on top of the island