THE SWIMMING POOL
The pool shimmered in the heat, the clean blue water undulating restlessly against the sides of the tiles. Michael worked some business ledgers and the cell phone that was always at his side. The sun that embraced the L.A. mansion that day was harsh and full, the shadows long and high. Has he been picked up yet? He asked into the cell. Good. He set back the phone, dismissing it and looking at his watch. A good forty-five minutes or so before the investor would arrive and he had a few things to do. He put more lotion on his chest and over his shoulders, along the bridge of his nose, then replacing his sunglasses. He got up and gripping his cell, he made his way to the cabana, shedding his swim trunks as he did. He walked into the shaded cabana naked and stepped into the shower stall, soaping up and washing his hard frame. After a few minutes he pulled on a thick terrycloth robe and opened the garment bag, pulling out the Armani suit and dressing before the mirror, careful to adjust his tie perfectly. A shallow noise came from out back.
When satisfied, he made his way into the outside atrium, the sun still allowed in, but muted, not as hot, but warm. Millie had put out a delectable array of foods to pick from, drinks and a mirror, the latter in case the mark had other interests. Michael opened an Evian, drinking deep. His phone buzzed, alerting him that his company had arrived, pulling up the drive. He turned and stretched, pretending to be engrossed in a portfolio. Millie came down a few minutes later, walking in followed by a Spanish gentleman, carrying a briefcase.
I stood and shook his hand, proffering him a seat as he sat back. My visitor had a direct view over the pool area. I made sure that my back was facing the area, only the mirror from the guest room showed the whole panorama. An hour must have passed before Chloe came out, dressed in baggy sweats and a huge T-shirt. She rushed into my arms and hugged me wildly. Daddy, ohhhh, we had such a good time