Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
You need to read chapters 1-6 to get background on the characters and story.
All fictional characters participating in any fictional sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.
This chapter has not had the benefit of an editor other than myself.
Chapter 7
I heard the car pulling up to the house. The girls were home from school. I tossed the dress in the case, flipped it closed and kicked it back under the bed. I would have to deal with this head on. That was the way to get things done. Just suck it up, focus, and do it. I strode out into the living room just as the door burst open. Linda and Brenda ran in and almost barreled me down on the way to their room.
"Daddy!" Brenda stopped just short of hitting me. "What are you doing here?"
I heard noise coming from the back yard, turned, and spied several teen-agers filing into the patio from the side gate. I glanced back at my daughter. "I live here."
"Oh. Well, the team is over for swim practice. Our first meet is next week, and we need to get ready." She started to step around me. "We need to get our suits."
Fuck. That was today, wasn't it? A pool full of teenagers practicing for the upcoming meet. It's always something.
Brenda and Linda made a beeline for the bedroom, and the door closed before my brain could engage my mouth to say anything. Great. The talk will have to wait. Again. I stepped toward the front door to close it when a sports car pulled up to our walkway. The driveway was already full of cars from the other swimmers. I did a double take when the driver exited the vehicle.
Speedo Boy himself. Mark Landry closed his car door, this time dressed like a prep school big shot complete with a sweater draped over his shoulders, carrying a leather athletic bag, and looking like a rich kid heading into the gym. I met him halfway up the walk.
"Mr. Landry, what can I do for you?"
"I'm here for practice," he said as if it was common knowledge. "We have a swim meet next week. I have to get ready."
"From what I understand, you're no longer on the swim team."
"I will be in time for the meet." The little prick oozed more confidence than I could have mustered at his age.
"Somehow I doubt that. Not from what I've heard."
"No, really. It's all being arranged right now. No biggie. I'll be back on the team by Monday. So, if you'll get out of my way, I need to practice with the team."
"If you want to swim, Mr. Landry," I thrust my hand in my pocket to keep from punching the arrogant prig, "I suggest you get your dad to open the natatorium for you. There's no way you're so much as dipping one toe into my pool." I stepped closer to him and brought my height to bear, looking down into his arrogant eyes. "I know what you did," I said through clenched teeth, "and you're damn lucky you didn't pull that shit with my daughter or they would never find your body."
I swear I heard him swallow, though he was careful to keep his expression neutral. "I didn't do nothin'," he said as though he'd rehearsed it. "They have no case. H-Hell, it's probably already been dismissed."
My ears rang as the pressure in my blood vessels increased. The hand in my pocket wanted so desperately to come out and play. "Even if you win the case, you and I both know you're guilty. So does everyone else. You're done. Either way, though, you're not welcome here."
He squared his shoulders and I worried for a second that he might try to force his way past me. "Don't think I'm afraid of you, old man," he said with as much bluster as he could. His eyes said something entirely different and I almost chuckled. "Because I'm not."
"I don't really care if you are or not," I said in a monotone. "Just know that I'm not afraid of you, either. Now I suggest you leave before I call the police to have you escorted off the property. You're not worth any more of my time."
He stood there for a second before turning with a huff and stomping toward his car. He chucked his bag in the back seat and turned to face me. "This isn't over, asshole. You haven't heard the last of me. I can make your life miserable. For you and your dyke daughter."
He was squealing tires down the street before I could get to him to throttle him. Arrogant prick! How dare he show up at my house as though nothing was wrong? And to insult Brenda... My brain couldn't form a sentence worthy of my anger. This will not stand.
I turned back to the house to see the curtain in Brenda's window drop back into place, and I wondered how much of the exchange she heard. As I approached the front door, another car pulled up, and a young man of about 25 or so hopped out wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a shirt with the school's logo on the breast. He smiled in a genuine, but deferential way, like a teacher placating an older parent, and flashed his impossibly white teeth. He was damn good looking. So good looking that, if I were gay, I'd go for him. Adonis-like physique on a compact frame and chiseled features under skin that has seen just the right amount of sun. He raised his hand as he approached me. "Mr. Brandford. Good to see you again. I want to thank you for supporting the team this way."
"No sweat, coach." I clasped Coach Thomas' hand with a quick pump. "Desperate times and all that."
"Well, a lot of parents are in the same situation and they're not stepping up like this."
"They have their own problems, I'm sure." Kelly and Dennis popped into my mind, which was unfortunate because Speedo-boy had managed to get my mind off it for a moment. "And it's no problem or hardship for me. Besides, most of the team swim here all the time anyway."
"That's what I hear," coach said. "Can I see this legendary pool?"
"It's right this way." I gestured to the side gate. "I think most of the team is already in the pool anyway." I pushed the gate open. The last batch of kids through it had not secured it behind them, so I made a note to remind them of the security rules here. I couldn't have some stranger wander into the pool and get hurt. That would put the kibosh on the swim team's season for sure. "Say, what's up with the Landry situation? He's not back on the team, is he?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it," coach said. His eyes narrowed. "That...young man," he gagged at the term as though eating soap, "will not swim for me, I can assure you. But his dad is working every angle he can to get him reinstated. The principal wants to--how did he say--revisit the issue Monday. Why do you ask?"
"He showed up here to train."
"He didn't!"