Help Wanted Read Free Page B

wide expanse of grass to the side of the end zone on which the boys had formed a loose circle. At least forty pairs of shoes were sticking up in the air as they began executing a series of crunches.
    In the middle, a man stood with his back to Paul, but he recognized the stance. Cap on. Clipboard under the arm. Stopwatch in hand.
    He felt a grin spreading across his face as memories of his own high school days started to float before him.
    Good times.
    He could see Luke there in the midst of the other guys, his red, sweaty face showing the strain of hard work. Paul chuckled, his own abs aching at the memory.
    A combination of joy and pride nearly jettisoned him into the center of the circle, but he hung back. Chatting with some of the other parents who had gathered, he stopped midsentence when the man with the clipboard turned around.
    His jaw dropped, and he was suddenly back in his old office, talking on the phone to Mike McClausen, his manager, mentor, and friend.
    "Yeah, I'm sure," he had repeated while staring at his computer screen. "There's at least three million missing. No write-offs, no notes, no nothing. It's gone. I told you DeRosa was up to something. Numbers don't lie."
    A low chuckle had come through the other end of the phone. "Ok, well I'm sure it's just a blip. Find a way to hide it, would ya? Charitable contributions maybe."
    Hearing a knock on his door, Paul started. He hunched over his phone before responding, "You're kidding, right?"
    "Hey listen, Paul. I've gotta run. We'll talk more about this later."
    Ever since he was a kid helping his dad zero out the registers in his grocery store at the end of the day, Paul loved numbers. They were absolute, black and white, right or wrong, no in between. But at Creiger Financial, his first job out of college, he learned numbers weren't always so absolute and gray areas abounded.
    The knock had sounded again. He had hung up the phone and turned to see Ed DeRosa standing in his doorway wearing the same smiling face Paul was looking at now. Feeling a vein throb in his temple, he looked around quickly at the other parents, incredulous that none seemed to be the least bit bothered that they were standing in the midst of a criminal. A criminal who would be coaching their sons, no less.
    Dumbfounded, he stood listening as the man who destroyed his career introduced himself to the parents assembled around him as Nick DeRosa.
    You gotta be kidding me.
    Stunned, Paul barely listened as DeRosa rattled off a bunch of phony credentials, including, by the sound of it, breaking all of Paul's old records at the school ( you wish ) and, perhaps most ridiculous of all, winning a spot on the Men's Olympic Track and Field Team.
    What a crock of sh—
    Luke tugged at Paul's arm. "Come on, Dad. Let's go. I'm hungry."
    The imposter had stopped talking, and the other parents were milling about, introducing themselves and volunteering for upcoming team dinners.
    Digging the car keys out of his pocket, he handed them to his son and said, "I'll be right there. I wanna talk to the, um, coach for a minute."
    Luke shrugged and headed toward the parking lot. Paul waited for the other parents to leave. When the two men stood alone, he had to fight back the urge to take him out, but given the ugly scar on the guy's chin, it looked like someone had already beaten him to it.
    Instead, he sneered, "What the hell are you doing here?"
    The coach looked surprised and more than a little confused. Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head and asked, "I'm sorry. Have we met?"
    Paul nearly choked. "Is this a joke? I have half a mind to call the cops right now."
    At this, the man opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Taking off his cap, he put a hand on his chest, and with the resolution of a courtroom witness swearing on a Bible, said, "I'm Nick. Nick DeRosa."
    Paul stared for a minute, not completely convinced he was telling the truth.
    The man continued, "Could you, by any chance, have me confused with