All-american Father

"NICE JOB, CAVENAUGH." Derrick's senior partner slapped him on the shoulder as they left the high-rise conference room behind. "Thanks, Spencer," Derrick replied with the expected hint of nonchalance. "We'll have the merger portfolio ready for Reynolds-Allied to sign by the end of the month." It felt good to be in control of something. Anything. Contract law wasn't as sexy as the professional football career he and his old man had envisioned for Derrick's life. But being on top of his game during high-stakes negotiations was its own kind of rush. The boardroom was the only place he wasn't failing on a daily basis, since returning to San Francisco a year ago. Where his--God, he hated the word--potentialwasn't being wasted. "you're coming to the alumni mixer at the Western-Langston game in a couple of weeks, right?, Spencer Hastings's questions were rarely just questions. Derrick was being summoned. And Hastings had a stranglehold on the junior partner promotion Derrick was banking his family's future on. "you'll make everyone's night by showing up." "I--" Derrick's legacy asthealumni football star from San Francisco's Western High had secured him a spot at the firm of Hastings Chase Whitney. But he was a chronic no-show at as many local social events as he could avoid. Especially the sports-related ones, where there was little business to be done, and too much of what he was supposed to have become slapping him in the face. Like the Western alumni gathering, scheduled for Western's annual grudge match against Langston High School, this year to be played at Langston's stadium across the bay--the suburb where Derrick now lived with his girls. "I'll have to find a sitter for Leslie and Savannah." "Nonsense." Hastings gave his shoulder a firmer slap as the elevator rushed them to the ground floor. "Bring the kids along." Derrick tried to picture his twelve-year-old and nine-year-old, resentful already of the time his job stole from them, listening to Daddy relive glory days with a bunch of people they didn't know. In under half an hour, he'd have a Powerpuff-Girl-sized mutiny on his hands. Zam. Pow! Dad, we wanna go. Now! "I'll see what I can do." He flashed his golden-boy grin to smooth things along. "My oldest is working on a science project, and--" His BlackBerry chirped. He sifted through his overflowing briefcase as they emerged through revolving doors onto the bustling sidewalk. "Derrick Cavenaugh." "Mr. Cavenaugh, this is Detective Oaks with the Langston PD. I'm at the Stop Right on the corner of Elm and Matteson. There's been an incident with your daughter, Leslie, and I'm afraid the owner intends to press charges--." Derrick pasted on a calm expression, while his insides churned up the take-out sushi he'd gulped down for lunch. Hastings kept his gaze politely focused on the shuffle of business people streaming by. But as the cop summed up Leslie's latest contribution to Derrick's plunge into single-parent insanity, Derrick kept his panic to himself. He was getting good at it. His oldest had apparently skipped classes again. And now she had her sights firmly set on adding a petty larceny conviction to her middle school resume. TWO PART-TIME JOBS." One aging bed-and-breakfast by the bay." A cop and a preteen thief standing between Bailey Greenwood and the end of her Stop Right shift." Cost to Bailey's insomnia-challenged grip on reality? Priceless."Mr. Drayton, I need to get going," she said. "I've already given the officer my statement, and--" "Not until the girl's father arrives," grumped the convenience store owner who'd insisted that she cover the afternoon shift, because he'd beenunavailablewhen Sally Traver called in sick. But wave the petty theft of a seven-dollar boxDeStefano, Anna is the author of 'All-american Father ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373714100 and ISBN 0373714106.