Learning To Swim For Real

Chapter 1: It Never Rains In Southern California

"LaGuardia! Longer glide! Jesus!" 

Jack shook the water out of his face, nodded, and pushed off the wall to continue his final set. Breast stroke was his specialty, so he shouldn't really need to be told this anymore, but he was tired. He needed to breathe sooner. So this made his glide shorter. Which made Coach yell more.

He made his glides as long as he could, concentrating on staying under, working his kick, making his body long and stretching out. And he must have done better, because Coach remained silent this time, no bellowing when he swam into the wall.

He did, however, motion Jack over to talk as everyone was getting out of the pool to head to the showers, beckoning imperiously with his whistle in his hand.

Jack walked over as he toweled off, shaking the excess water out of his hair, looking questioningly at Coach's leathery face. The bright, hot Los Angeles sun beat down on his dark tan.

"Yeah?"

"You still looking for something for the summer?" 

As usual, there were no pleasantries with Coach; he was all business, always. His voice rumbled from within his chest, which was covered today in the purple and white athletic shirt of the UC Santa Maria Aquatics Squad. Jack had jammers in these colors also, which he saved for meets; today he was wearing two black speedos, one worn over the other, to create extra drag in the pool for a more effective work out. It was also to preserve a little decency, because they were worn to shreds.

Jack nodded. Summer vacation was looming, and he needed a summer job. "I just found out last night. The community pool back home has a crack in the foundation, and will be closed for at least a month. That means no lifeguarding job, and no swimming lessons, either." And because he'd been counting on that job, he hadn't been looking for anything else, so all the other jobs were taken. Jack's morale had hit rock bottom when his mother gave him the news last night. His athletic scholarship covered a lot, but not everything, and they needed his income.

"I think I found something for you," Coach said. He reached behind him and grabbed a notepad, tearing off a piece of paper and folding it once before handing it to Jack. "Call this man. His name is Raymond Baker. I can't really tell you much more, because it's kind of secret, but it's a good job, you'd be well suited for it, and it pays very well." 

A secret job? Jack looked at the paper. It was a 310 area code, which he was pretty sure was Beverly Hills. 

"Okay, Coach, thanks," Jack responded with a smile. "I really appreciate it." 

Coach waved his thanks away. "I need to do what I can to keep you around long enough to swim for me next year, and get you your degree, right?"

As Jack turned away, he realized he could hear a little of Coach's Hungarian accent. Usually, he was so used to how the old man talked that he didn't notice it at all.

He hit the showers, laughing and joking with his buddies, who asked what Coach had wanted. Jack told them about the job possibility.

"Oh, that sounds great, dude," Toby enthused as he rinsed his short blond hair. "But what if it involves, you know, drinking? Or other sinful things?" He tried to wink lasciviously at Jack, but the effect was spoiled somewhat, as he was one of those people who could only wink by screwing up the other half of his face.

"Yeah, LaGuardia?" Jeff chimed in. "What if you have to drive businessmen to, like, Vegas or something, get them hooked up?"

"Fuck off, guys," Jack retorted, acting as though he was going to snap them with his towel.

"Yeah, guys, fucketh off," Zach echoed loftily, putting his hands under his red, bearded chin in an attitude of mock prayer. "Our boy Jack will be good, you know that. He's an angel, you can practically see his halo!" And he grabbed Jack in a head lock, giving him a noogey as Jack protested. "He'll just wait in the car with his bible, right Jackie boy?"