Making a Splash Page 3

  “I’m literally going to put you through your paces. You’ll show me everything you can do, and then we’ll sit down and decide what we need to work on. At lunch we can set up a workout/diving schedule and a menu. And I’ll go over my plan of attack for the sponsors with you, make sure you’re okay with the people I’m going to talk to.” Vince pulled out into the traffic and headed for the pool.

  “Oh.” Okay. Good thing he got some sleep last night. “Cool. I don’t have, like, a gym membership or nothing. That’s cool, right?”

  “I’ve got some weights at home, and you’ve got the trampoline—that’ll do for now. We’ll make do for a few weeks, and by then we’ll have the sponsors starting to throw us the money.” Vince winked at him as he parked. “I’ll get that contract to you tomorrow—you have someone who can look it over for you?”

  “Yeah.” Uncle Jack had gone to paralegal school once. That would work.

  “Good.” Vince put a hand in the small of Austin’s back and led him in. “So this place has a five-meter platform. You know how to dive from a platform?” There was a twinkle in Vince’s eyes that said the man was teasing.

  “The nonbouncy diving board? Yeah. You can do tricks easier off those, but I like the bouncing too.” Hell, he liked diving. He liked the shock of hitting the water, the rush right before, the whole thing.

  “The bouncy one is called a springboard. The nonbouncy one is called a platform. And I can’t wait to see you work off it, given what you managed to do on that springboard yesterday.”

  Vince hit the lights. The pool was deserted, empty.

  “Creepy.” Austin looked around; he’d never been at an empty pool before. Especially not inside.

  “It’ll be home soon enough. Hey, you can dive without an audience, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s… echo-y.” He stripped down to his trunks, wandered over to the pool, and dipped a foot in. Not bad. Not bad at all. “So I go up and dive and you watch?”

  “Yep. Start small and work your way up. I’m going to take notes, see where you need to improve.”

  “Okay.” Small. He could do small. He climbed up the stairs and did a straightforward, easy dive—pike and then in the water, the first shock of it always so weird. Then he got to the edge, humming away, and headed up to do another one.

  After the first ten or so, he was getting bored, so he started playing. Twisting, turning, sort of forgetting Vince was even there. Forgetting enough that he was startled when Vince spoke. “Okay, come get a snack, and then I want some back and handstand entries.”

  “Oh.” He blinked a little. “Sorry, I was in my own little world. Snack?” He could eat. He could always eat.

  Vince pulled out a sandwich, an apple, a banana, and a muffin. “Pick two.”

  “No bananas.” He took the sandwich and started chowing down.

  “Okay, no bananas.” Vince picked it up, peeled it, and started eating, lips closing over the tip. “Why not?”

  Oh. Man. No looking.

  None.

  La la la la la.

  “They make my sugars soar, make my head hurt.”

  Vince made a notation in his book and took another bite, going down farther on the banana this time. “So what else is a no-no?”

  “Uh.” God, look at that mouth…. “I don’t like fancy food much, but Mexican food rocks the house.”

  Vince looked up at him, gave him a smile. “Fancy? Like pretty plate, little substance, or like Italian?” After the question, Vince went back down on the banana and then licked his lips after swallowing his bite.

  “Like, uh, shit stuffed with brie and capers or raw fish in seaweed. I like Italian food.”

  “Brie and capers?” Vince shuddered. “Where have you been eating?”

  “I haven’t. I got cable. Iron Chef.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You ever seen what those folks eat?”

  “No. And I don’t think I see any reason to start.” Vince snagged the muffin. “You can have the apple. I’m going to set up a schedule. I want you having something to eat every couple of hours while doing dive work, working out, trampolining. Basically if you’re exercising, you need to be fueling. You’re too skinny already.”

  Austin grabbed the apple and started eating. Mmm. Tart. “I eat. I do.”

  “Pop-Tarts and candy bars?” Vince made short work of the muffin. “You’re going to need your energy to do the work I’m going to give you.”

  “Yeah.” He could believe that. “Man, is there a water fountain? I’m thirsty.”

  Vince reached over and pulled a big bottle of water out of a bag. “I’m going to hit them up first for sponsorship. It’s a product you can use all the time, carry with you.”

  “Cool.” He drank deep, throat working. Oh, hell, yes. Exactly what he needed. “Okay, so, back up on the platform?”

  “Yeah. I borrowed a friend’s camera—I’m going to shoot some video, okay? So make it good.” Vince winked.

  “I’m always good.” Austin winked back, bebopping back up the stairs and pondering. What to do, what to do. He walked out to the edge, took a deep breath, and pushed himself out into the air, doing a triple with a twist.

  There was a whistle as he came up out of the water. “You’re scary good, Austin. Scary fucking good.”

  “Yeah? Cool.” He couldn’t help bouncing a little. “Man, we need a cooler. I definitely need a beer.”

  “Not while practicing. Beer and diving don’t mix.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. I also dive for beer.” He headed for the ladder.

  “You can have a beer once you’re done for the day. I’m serious, Austin, no alcohol during practice—whether it’s board work, trampolining, or working out.”

  “Okay. I’m not a boozer. I’ll keep my beer dives to the lake.” He stretched and then got himself ready to do a handstand. It was a little creepy, not having the sides of the springboard to hold on to.

  “Careful, now—it’s not the same as a springboard. It’ll be more like doing handstands on the ground. And you won’t have any extra spring from the board—the push off has to be all you.”

  “It feels really weird.” In fact, a little scary. Maybe a lot. He let himself down. “I think I’ll try some reverse dives.”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, Austin. Might be better to practice the handstand entries off a lower board to start with anyway.”

  “Okay.” He wasn’t scared or nothing, but he didn’t want to fuck it up on the first day. Maybe tomorrow. He did a reverse double, feeling it out. Okay. Okay, that didn’t suck.

  “You liking the platform, Austin?”

  “I like the board better. This…. You could hit your head pretty easy, but I like it okay.”

  “Yeah, you could, but you learn how not to. You can’t do handstand entries on a springboard. And all those fancy dives you like? Those are all platform dives.” Vince came over and pointed to the edge of the pool. “Start here. Do the handstand and push yourself back into the water. Once you’re comfortable with it? You can try it on the platforms.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Do a handstand on the edge of the pool and fall into the water. That’ll give you the feel for the handstand entries on the platform.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Austin got himself up and stable, then walked the six inches to the edge. “Like this?”

  “Show off.”

  He wiggled his ass a little, then blinked. “So I just… fall?”

  “Push yourself off a little, flip enough you don’t come down into the water flat—whatever you’re comfortable with.” Vince came and crouched down next to him, grin upside down. “I’ve got bandages if you hit your head. But you won’t.”

  “Fucker.” He bunched his muscles and pushed himself up and out. He didn’t hit his head, and the water pulled him in like it always did.

  Vince was smiling. “See? No bang.”

  “Go me.” He pulled himself up and out.

  Vince watched him closely. Checking him out? Yeah, rig
ht. See him, see him not strut.

  “You want to try that on the platform now?” Vince’s voice was deep, echoing in the empty pool area.

  “No, but I reckon I oughta.” He headed back up the ladder, whistling, making himself not think.

  “That’s it, Austin.” There was pride in that voice this time.

  Oh, that felt good. He let the warmth fill him and get him up on his hands, walking the couple of inches to the edge. Okay, up. Out. Round and round and water.

  Vince’s cheer rang through the place as Austin headed for the edge. “That was a thing of fucking beauty. You are going to blow people’s socks right off.”

  His cheeks heated, and he ducked his head. “Yeah? Cool.”

  Damn.

  “Hell, yeah.” Vince’s hand was warm as he gave Austin a hand up out of the water. “How did it feel?”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all. It’s a little weird if I think about it.” So he’d better not think about it too much.

  “You’ll get used to it soon enough. You’ll wonder how you ever did it on a springboard.”

  “So you don’t think I’ll be doing the springboard thing?” He headed back up.

  “Oh, no, you’ll do springboard as well. But there’s no handstand entries on the springboard in competition, and I’m going to ban you from doing it on the springboard, even when you’re fooling around.” Vince glanced at the camera. “Okay, maybe one or two more for the sponsor tape, and then we’ll eat lunch, go over some of the things I noticed that you need to work on.”

  “Ban me?” Oh, now. What shit was that? He stared down from the platform, head tilted.

  “If you keep doing the handstand entries off the springboard, you aren’t going to unlearn the bad habits it’s given you. So I don’t want you doing handstand entries unless you’re on the platform. No exceptions at any time.”

  “I don’t have bad habits, do I? How did I get habits, for fuck’s sake?” He wasn’t pissed, but it was weird, thinking he had bad habits with something that was just jumping in the water.

  “You do anything often enough and you develop habits, Austin. And you’re self-taught, so it only makes sense that you’ll be doing some of the moves wrong. It’s going to take some time for some of those habits to be broken, new habits developed. It’s nothing I’m worried about—you’re doing it right more often than not.”

  “Okay.” He guessed. Hell, he didn’t know.

  It was easier to focus on the water, on breathing, on bouncing on his toes and remembering how good it felt to hit the water. Round and round and round and splash. Water.

  Vince helped him up again, hand moving to the small of his back, leading him over to the bleachers. “Sit a minute.”

  Vince paced a few steps one way and then back the other, coming to a stop in front of him again. “You’re good, Austin. I haven’t seen a diver like you in… well, maybe ever. But you’re not perfect. You’re going to have to work for it. Some days you may hate me. Some days you may hate the boards and the water. You’re going to have to be okay with that.”

  “I didn’t say I was perfect.” Hell, he didn’t even know what was good, barring not belly-flopping yourself against the water.

  Vince came and sat next to him, warm, solid. “No, I think what I’m trying to say is it’s not always going to be fun. It’s a lot of work.”

  Man, wasn’t that always the way? Nobody ever thought he’d work for it. Must be something about his face. Or maybe folks weren’t supposed to like what they did. That could be it. All the ball players on the TV looked grumpy. He could probably fake it okay. “Well, if you think I’m not working hard enough, I reckon you should tell me.” He’d frown more. Everybody always thought you were working harder if you looked unhappy. He learned that at the plant.

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t want it to be a shock to you.” Vince shrugged a little. “Maybe I’m putting my own experience on you. It’s just that you love diving. I’ve seen you—it’s a pure joy. And all I mean is some days it may not be, and you’re going to have to do it regardless. You know?”

  Yeah. Yeah, he’d thought of that. “I’m not sure what you want to hear. That I’m not a quitter? You’ll have to wait and see that.”

  Vince shook his head and looked out over the pool, speaking quietly. “I don’t know what I want to hear. Maybe I don’t want to be the one to make you hate diving for the first time ever.”

  Man, maybe he needed to go home. Sleep it off. Go back to work. This was getting… heavy. Weird.

  Vince looked back at him and gave him a wry grin. “I’m not trying to talk you out of this, I swear. Go on, do a few more and I’ll take you out to lunch.”

  “I’m not hungry yet.” He nodded, headed back to the ladder. Man, that whole thinking thing?

  Completely fucking overrated.

  Chapter Three

  VINCE LIT up as soon as they were out of the pool, sucking in the smoke for all he was worth.

  Fuck, he was an idiot. Anyone would think he’d been trying to talk the kid out of doing this. Hell, maybe he had been.

  He let Austin into the truck and went around to get in the driver side. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “McDonald’s?” Austin dug out a cigarette from a pocket and lit up.

  “I was hoping for somewhere we could get a beer.” He needed a drink, something to calm the sudden nerves that had popped up.

  “Okay. Pablo’s. They have half-priced beers and shots at lunch.”

  “Sounds perfect. They’re over on Birchwood, right?” He started the truck up and pulled out into the flow of traffic, not really waiting for Austin’s answer.

  “Yeah.” Austin nodded, leaning his head back, eyes closing.

  “You okay?” he asked. Man, he would be happy when they got to know each other a little better, when he could read Austin.

  “Mm-hmm. Wishing it wasn’t Sunday already, you know?”

  “Yeah. You’re going to be pulling double duty for a few weeks. I’ll get those sponsors on board as quickly as possible, I promise.” He’d pulled his book out last night. Had his first five calls lined up for tomorrow morning.

  “I ain’t worried. I’ve worked doubles before. I can sleep anywhere.”

  “That’s a handy skill to have.” One he wished he had himself. He slept like shit, especially in strange beds. It could make going to meets a pain in the ass.

  “Yeah. Sleep’s a nice thing.” Sure as shit, Austin was asleep before they pulled into the parking lot, dozing away.

  Vince turned the key, so the engine went off but the radio stayed on, then reached into the back for his notebook. He could let the kid sleep awhile. He made notes on the dives, the places where Austin was going to have to tighten up, the few things that were missing absolutely, and the bad habits that came from teaching yourself how do to things. He’d already jotted a few notes the night before on exercise and trampoline routines, and he added a note or two to that, glancing over at Austin.

  His pen froze over the page as his cock twitched. Austin was good-looking, there was no denying that. Short, pale curls framed his tanned face, and those legs… up to there, you could tell even folded up as they were in the truck. Kid needed a few extra pounds on him, but his body was all lean muscle rather than just skin and bones, and Vince had to admit that was damned attractive to him.

  He sighed and shook his head. Business, old man, he told himself. That’s what this is. And there was no way a handsome young man like Austin would look twice at an older guy like him. Besides, Austin was deep in the closet. He glared down at his lap. See? Bad idea all around.

  He went back to his notebook, flipping to the back, where he was working on making an eating schedule.

  Austin’s eyes blinked open, the kid staring a little. “Oh. Oh, fuck. Sorry. You shoulda hollered.”

  Vince gave him a smile. “Nah, I had stuff to do, and you weren’t out long. Figured you needed the sleep or you wouldn’t have dropped off.” He closed the notebook and s
lipped the pen into the spine. “Ready to eat, or do you need a minute or two to shake it off?”

  “No. I need to eat and you wanted a beer.”

  “Okay, let’s go, then.”

  He led the way into Pablo’s, and the waitress gave them a table near the window. It was quiet enough—only a few other tables in use. He ordered a beer for himself and a milk for Austin. “Is that okay? You need dairy at each meal.”

  “So long as I get a glass of iced tea after, that’s cool. I like milk.”

  “An iced tea as well, please. And guacamole to start. We’ll order our main dishes after we’ve had a chance to look at the menu.”

  He turned his attention back to Austin. “I’ve done a bit of research, but I don’t want to walk in and change everything up on you. How often do you usually eat?”

  “When I get hungry.” Austin winked. “I eat at nine thirty at night, 2:00 a.m., 9:00 a.m., and sometimes at noonish.”

  “It’ll have to be more during the day, now that you’ll be doing a lot more physical activity. Do you snack between meals—apple, slice of cheese, that kind of thing?”

  “Only if I get shaky or a sweet tooth.” Austin smirked. “I love me some Pop-Tarts.”

  “I’m not sure those are staying on the daily menu.” Though he’d try not to cut too much out of Austin’s diet that the kid was used to eating. He still thought this was going to be a huge adjustment on Austin’s part, and he wanted to make the transition from being his own man to being a high-level athlete with a full-time coach as easy as possible.

  “You have stuff you eat that you don’t think you can live without? And what do you absolutely hate and if I put it on a plate, you’ll throw it back at me?”

  “I eat pretty much the same stuff. Burgers for breakfast, turkey sandwich for lunch, breakfast tacos for supper. I pretty much like food, so long as it’s not too froufy or not cooked. I don’t eat raw meat.”

  “What about fruit and vegetables?” The lots of meat was good—they’d stick with that, as it would help Austin’s sugars and give his muscles plenty of protein to feed off.

  “Love ’em all. They’re damned expensive, you know? But Aunt Jenny? She makes a fruit salad that makes my knees weak.”