It was the biggest house Kelsey had ever owned. At close to five thousand square feet, it officially qualified as a mansion. It sat on a half-acre in very tony and trendy West Hollywood, and boasted a huge pool and a very nice, fifteen hundred square foot "guest cottage" for the coach. Inside it was all art deco and 1940s arches and tile.

She was having a couple of friends over to try out the pool before the coach came over. She knew so many people from her career in the movies, people she had to know, had to cultivate. Today, this morning, was for her, just the people who really mattered to her.

She put a fresh pitcher of margaritas on the tray and carried it out to the pool, calling out, "Fresh drinks, you guys. Anyone want one?"

Kiki, who was splashing around in the pool with her dog, Mike, climbed out and grabbed her glass, shaking the water out of her curly hair as she walked over. She was wearing a red and white striped bikini that made her look extra tan and very young. Kiki was a friend from her modeling days in New York. They'd often gotten paired because of the dichotomy of their looks; where Kelsey looked very tall and pale and Caucasian, Kiki was the definition of exotic and ethnic, back when those terms were bandied about. Her mother was Namibian and Swedish, and her father was Japanese. Kiki, whose real, full name was Kiku Kakutani, was five-six, and should have been unsuitable for modeling of any kind. Her genes, however, had been given a swirl by the swizzle stick of the heredity gods, and achieved a kind of serendipitous perfection that only happened once every millennium. Kiki was a caramel-colored pixie, tilted eyes and bewitching grin, crazy curly hair, perfect cheekbones dusted with freckles and a body made for any kind of clothing.

"Me, please, the fresh strawberries you put in these guys are the fucking bomb," she announced, holding her glass out.

Kelsey smiled and filled her friend's glass. She hadn't seen Kiki in a few months. Kelsey spent most of her time in Los Angeles working in movies, but Kiki, who had an advanced degree in linguistics, spent most of her time in Switzerland, working for the United Nations.

"I'm so glad you came, Kiki," Kelsey said fondly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know, girlfriend," Kiki replied, toasting with Kelsey and leaning against the table. "You look good."

Kelsey shrugged, looking down at herself. "I look okay, I guess." She pointed to a supine form in a lounge chair. "JJ, now she looks good."

Kiki turned to look in the direction Kelsey was pointing. JJ, the person in question, sat up, took a sip of her drink, and turned over, adjusting her suit for better tanning. She noticed Kelsey and Kiki looking at her and waved before lowering her head.

"Well, working out, what, four hours a day? Will do that for you, right?" Kiki replied, taking another drink of her margarita. "Why was she doing that again?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think Rob said something to her about her weight," Kelsey said, being careful to keep her voice down. "Not directly, but she saw something in a magazine or something. Could've been a plant piece, though." Kelsey shrugged. "She's crazy. Rob's so gross, why would she care what he said about her body?"

"Well, we don't all have gorgeous race car drivers pining after us, kiddo," Kiki replied drily, finishing off her drink and holding it out for more. "Didn't I see you and Don in Monte Carlo?"

"Don and I are finished," Kelsey said, repeating the words she'd said to Raymond in the smoothie shop. She squinted her eyes against the bright, Los Angeles glare.

"Right," Kiki responded. "Does he know that?" She took another sip of her drink. "Jesus, these are strong. I wonder if it's unseemly to get smashed before, um, noon?" She pulled out a chair and sat down. Her dog, Mike, realizing that they weren't getting back in the pool any time soon, flopped down next to her.

"Nah, it's LA, everyone's getting shitfaced on something," Wendy Pendleton said, sliding open the patio door and emerging in time to hear Kiki's last words. She was a Yoga instructor that Kelsey had met when she first moved to LA. Wendy was older than her other friends, a little more grounded sometimes, which was nice. "Here, Kels, pour me one," she added, holding out her glass.

Kelsey obliged, throwing a few strawberries in as a garnish. They were very good right now.

"So, what's everyone doing today?" Wendy asked, kicking off her flip flops as she prepared to get in the pool.

"Well, my swim coach is coming," Kelsey said, pouring herself a fresh drink. "In fact, he should be coming any time now. You guys are going to have to go when he shows up, okay?"

"And he's going to live in your guest house?" Kiki questioned, grabbing a strawberry out of her drink and sucking on it. "How very cozy and unsavory, Kelsey. Does Don know?"

Kelsey made a face at her friend. "No, Don doesn't know yet, but there's nothing to know. It's for work." She, too, pulled out a chair and sat down. "Besides, according to Ray, this guy's very serious, all work, you know? Not a party type at all. 'Won't be any kind of an issue' were his exact words."

"Ooh, speak of the devil, that must be him," Wendy said, sitting up. A bright blue Prius was crawling up the driveway. As the women watched, it stopped in front of the garage, and a young man got out.

JJ, hearing the car, sat up, somnolent from the heat, and looked at him, taking another sip of her drink. "You expecting someone?" she called to Kelsey.

"Yeah, it's my swim coach," Kelsey answered. "You guys are going to have to go, I'm sorry, I have to work now."

JJ nodded slowly, rising and putting her pool coat on.

"Is he cute? I can't tell from here," Kiki complained, putting her hand over her eyes to shade them as she stared at the man.

From this distance, all Kelsey could see was that he was tall, tan, and well-built. He also had that tell-tale swimmer's hair that looked like golden threads on his head. He saw the women on the pool deck, waved, and opened the back door of his car, removing a duffel bag before walking toward them.

As he approached, Kelsey could see that she'd underestimated him in one respect. He wasn't just "well-built"; he was damned near perfect. His body was like a drawing in a book, from his calves to his thighs to his tapered hips to his abs, which could be seen through his T-shirt. His pectoral muscles flexed a little with every step he took, and she knew without seeing that his back would be a glorious landscape of motion and musculature. He moved with the unconscious grace of the totally fit athlete, completely at home in his skin. His eyes were hazel, their color nearly glowing in the middle of the blue-white of complete and total health, and Kelsey found that she couldn't even begin to assess whether or not he was handsome, not until she'd had some time to absorb the impact of his astonishing physicality.

"Hello, I'm Jack LaGuardia," he said, extending his hand toward Kelsey.

"Hi, I'm Kelsey, obviously," she replied with a smile as she shook his hand. "Want a margarita? I just made a fresh pitcher."

"Oh. Uh, no thanks, I don't drink," Jack replied, his glance flickering to the pitcher sitting on the table.

"What?" JJ interjected, drawing her beautiful brows together. "You don't drink?" she repeated.

Jack shook his head.

JJ took a step toward him. "But this isn't 'a drink'," she clarified. "It's just margaritas." She gestured toward the pitcher. "You know, strawberries? It's practically fruit juice." She looked at the rest of the women. "It's not like it's whiskey or gin or whatever."

Jack looked around, obviously uncomfortable. "No thanks, anyway," he repeated.

He looked back at Kelsey. "Where will I be staying?" he asked.

"Oh, I'll show you," she said, feeling awkward. She looked back at Kiki as she walked toward the guesthouse with Jack.

Kiki got the hint and turned to the other women. "Guys, we should go, I think, okay?" She began herding JJ and Wendy toward the door. "See you later," she called to Kelsey.

Kelsey gave her a grateful wave and turned back to the newcomer.

**************

"So, you're going to be my coach?" she began hesitantly as they walked up the path to the bungalow.

"Yes," Jack responded briefly.

Kelsey opened the door and they stepped in. It was nearly completely furnished, only lacking a few personal items and some furniture. "I assume you can set it up to suit yourself," she said, waving a hand around.

"It's really nice," Jack said. "I have a few things, they're out in the car. I'm just moving from a dorm, so I don't have much."

He went into the master bedroom and set his duffel bag down on the bed.

"So," he said, walking back into the living room, "do you want to start tomorrow?" At her blank look, he continued, "With your swimming?"

"Oh, I thought we could start today," she faltered. She couldn't figure out why he was making her feel so uncomfortable. She'd spent most of her life in front of cameras and around strangers. This was so unlike her.

"But you've been drinking," Jack said seriously, hands on hips.

"Well, only a few margaritas," Kelsey replied. "I'm not impaired or anything." And she didn't mean to sound as childish as she sounded. She realized as the words left her mouth that to Jack, she probably sounded a little bit tipsy. "I'm fine," she iterated.

"Okay," he said. "You go get ready, and point me toward the pool."

What?

"What do you mean?" Kelsey asked in confusion. She looked down at herself. She was already wearing a suit, a nice one, too. Though, come to think of it, he hadn't spared her bikini-clad body a second glance. And they'd walked right by the pool. She shook her hair back in irritation.

And now he was beginning to smile.

"You can't mean you're going to swim in that?" he said, oozing disbelief from every syllable. His eyes took her in, from head to toe, but instead of the admiration she was used to getting, he was looking--what--amused?

No.

"What?" she demanded. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" And as she spoke, she realized that the margaritas had affected her. She sounded petulant and spoiled and offended and ridiculous. She might as well have stamped her foot.

"Well, um, you're supposed to be a real swimmer, right?" he asked, hands on hips. "I mean, you're going to play one? Marian Lowell? The woman who got in the car accident before the Olympics?" At Kelsey's nod he continued. "Okay, well, there's no way a real swimmer would work out in that." And here he gestured to what Kelsey was wearing. "And your hair needs to be up in a cap. And you need goggles."

Huh?

"No way." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "I've seen those work out suits, and I can't be seen in one of those, they look awful. They cut into your skin, and they mash down your--your, um, body." Kelsey looked down at her chest. "And I can't put my hair up in a cap. They're ugly! And my hair is my trademark, it's even in my contract that I can't cut it or anything, I know they're not going to want it up in a cap where no one can see it. Same for the goggles." She glared at Jack. "No one will be able to see my face if I'm wearing those."

They faced each other in the living room of the guest house, standing a few feet apart.

"And what the fuck's the matter with the pool?" She waved out the window. "I bought this fucking house specifically because it has a pool."

Jack bit his lips and sat down, gesturing towards the love seat. "Please, sit down. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, honest."

Kelsey sat, rather unwillingly.

"As far as the pool," Jack began, choosing his words carefully, "it's a beautiful pool, but it's not the right shape." At her questioning look, he elaborated. "It does have a diving board, which is good, but it needs a flat wall, so you can practice turns, and it needs lines on the bottom, so you can see them and swim straight. It needs lane lines, so you can practice swimming in a lane, too." He took a deep breath. "Does any of this make sense to you?"

Kelsey huffed a breath.

"It sounds to me like you're being nitpicky, that's what I think," Kelsey finally said. She rose to walk to the door, but the coffee table got in the way, and she whammed her leg into it, quite painfully.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Jack asked, jumping up to help her.

"I'm fine!" Kelsey tossed over her shoulder as she grabbed the door knob and flung the door open. She tried to think of a really good parting shot, but she couldn't, so she settled for giving him another glare as she slammed the door shut behind her.

She stomped down the path to her brand new, beautiful house, knowing that she might be embarrassed later, but not caring.

This was not going to work. She needed a new coach.

Immediately, if not sooner.