Page 5 of The Ex Next Door
“Slice of pizza?” Declan waved at the box.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“I’m watching the recap.” Declan jutted his chin to the flat-screen.
Even if he’d been out of majors for years, Declan still enjoyed the sport of baseball. And to be fair, it was about all he had in common with his father. Whenever he dropped by, which was too often now that Finn had moved out, Declan talked stats. If he didn’t, his father would start asking about his goals. He insisted that Declan had walked away from his high school coaching position when he should have stuck it out and dealt with the fallout. Obviously Declan disagreed.
A coach for most of his life, Dan Sheridan was a master motivator. The man wouldn’t know the wordquitif it came up and slapped him silly. It was a cool thing for the kids he currently coached in Little League, because if you wanted to believe his father, each one of them was the next Derek Jeter.
“You got new neighbors?” His father said, taking a slice.
“Yeah, Amy and her kids moved in next door. She and Rob are getting a divorce.”
“Ah, Amy. Heard about that. Sad situation.”
They watched the commentators for a few minutes and then the program cut away to a commercial.
“So,” his father said, right on cue. “Have you thought any more about joining me as coach on the Little League team? They could really use the inspiration from a former pro.”
Emphasis onformer.
“Thought about it. It’s not going to fit into my plans at this time.”
“And those plans are…?”
Declan scrubbed a hand down his face. “Still formulating.”
“Declan,” his father sighed. “You are a great player and an even better teacher. Why are you wasting your God-given talent by bartending?”
“I’m not wasting anything. It happens that I’m good at listening to people’s troubles and serving them a cocktail.”
Not everyone could be a first-class mixologist, and Declan happened to believe the praise he got from his customers.
Best mojito I ever had; thanks for listening; here’s a hundred-dollar tip, you’re still cheaper than the therapist.
“There’s nothing wrong with hard work. I’m a working-class stiff and I like it.”
“I appreciate that, but you have a different kind of talent. If you don’t share with the world, it’s practically a sin.”
“A sin?”
Granted, these were new tactics on his Dad’s part. He must be getting desperate.
“Tell me. Other than listening to people’s troubles and mixing alcoholic drinks, are you contributing to society? Do you have a plan? A goal? Strategy to get there?”
Somebody shoot him now. With Finn now retired from the Olympics and running a boat charter business with his best friend, his father’s attentions had turned to Declan.
Even though it was coming up on two years since he’d left the Houston high school, Declan refused to talk about it. Everyone in town knew the reason he’d left and so did his parents. A difference of opinion with the boosters had gone way too far. Declan decided everyone would be better off without him. And though his father was plenty sympathetic when it all went down, by now he expected Declan to have moved on.
He took the job as bartender so he could think next steps. Sure, next steps were dragging but that was his business.
His father needed a new project and Declan looked like fresh and raw material. If he didn’t show his father a plan, this wouldn’t stop until he did.
“Okay.” Declan stood. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything to you yet but yes, I have a plan. I intend to contribute to society. Big-time.”
“Sounds wonderful!”
Here came the cheering section. It was time for Declan to lay it all out. He whipped out a napkin and grabbed a pen. Far too well, he remembered the younger years: days of charts and graphs and items to check off in the Sheridan house. Both he and Finn were raised on goals and charts.
