7
“Art,do you mind getting my back?” Wes asked Art, who lay across his lounge chair by the community pool, holding a glass of lemonade he was eagerly sipping from a straw. He wore a pair of blue-and-black-striped swimming trunks, his hair already damp from having been in thepool.
“Of course,” Art said, pushing to his feet. Wes offered him the sunscreen, which Art sprayed across his back before rubbing it in. Brief as Art made it, Wes enjoyed the sensation of Art’s hands against hisflesh.
“You need a drink?” Art said as he hurried over to hiscooler.
“Lemonade?” Wesasked.
Art turned and smiled as he opened the cooler. “With a little kick to it,” he said before pouring Wes a glass. He handed it to him, and when Wes took a sip, he appreciated the taste of vodka, enjoying the much-needed relief it would providehim.
Art grabbed his own drink off the table beside his lounge chair, and they joined Gabe and Tony in the shallow end of the pool, where they stood, chatting away. Tony wore a pair of black trunks that fell past his knees. Gabe, who Wes had learned had a preference for jumpsuits in his day-to-day life, donned a pair of what seemed to be lime-green leggings, which went down to his ankles, and a matching swim tanktop.
“Did he hook you up with some of Art’s Hard Lemonade?” Tonyasked.
“Judging by that expression you’re making, you’ve had your share,” Wesreplied.
“Ohyeah.”
As Wes joined their discussion, he glanced around at the packed pool, residents in their lounge chairs and on floats. He waved to a few he’d met throughout his timethere.
Frances performed a breaststroke in the deep end, working onlaps.
“Frances seems like she’s on a mission,” Wesnoted.
“Yes,” Gabe said. “She’s always serious about her swimming. She’s the former four-year victor of the gold medal for Heathrow Estates’ Field Day in free-formswimming.”
“What isthat?”
“Didn’t you read about Field Day in your brochure?” Artasked.
Wes shook his head as he reflected back on the paperwork he’d received about the place. “Well, you have to admit, there’s quite a bit in there. I can’t say I read much of any of it. I watched thevideo.”
“Don’t mention the video around her!” Gabeexclaimed.
“What?”
“She was supposed to be in it, discussing the athletics clubs, but they cutit.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize how active she was with that kind ofstuff.”
“You should probably not say ‘that kind of stuff’ around hereither.”
“What are we talking about overhere?”
They all turned together to see Frances walking from the deep to the shallow end in her bright-orange, one-piece swimsuit. As she raised the goggles to her forehead, he could see her eyeing them suspiciously. “I’m wondering why my ears are burning likethis.”
“Swimmer’s ear?” Tonyteased.
Frances released a laugh that Wes had become all too familiar with even in his brief time at HeathrowEstates.
“We were just talking about Field Day,” Art offered up, and her eyes grewwide.
“They were telling me that you were the reigning champion for swimming.” And the moment Wes said it and saw her expression twist up, he realized he’d said something horribly wrong. As he replayed in his head the conversation with the guys, he tried to figure out where he’d misspoken. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the video she’d been cut from, so he thought he was safe. However, Frances made his work easier when she said, “No, I was the four-year champion, who would have been five if Bernice Rakeley hadn’t swept in last year and taken me out. But I’m gonna gether—”
She said that part very loudly but quieted down just as swiftly as she glanced around, as though realizing this was not the place for her to be so outspoken about anotherresident.
“I’m gonna kick her ass,” she whispered, though not so softly that Wes figured no one outside their group could hear her. By the expression she made, Wes believed she would, in fact, kick Bernice Rakeley’s ass. “I’m not going to be silver again this year. I’ll accept that about as friendly as NancyKerrigan.”
