Second First Impressions

“Aqua aerobics?” Jordan says to Teddy, face scrunched in skepticism.

“Just trying to keep my shit tight,” Teddy replies airily and walks in through the sliding doors.

“I need you to take this.” Jordan fishes a folded twenty-dollar bill out of his shorts pocket as we walk together into the pool area. “The really rude old lady gave this to me on the way in. She acted like I was a fancy hotel doorman or something.” Jordan’s eyeline is on Teddy now. “Is he her grandson?”

“Personal assistant.”

“Yeah, well, he needs to notice she’s handing out cash left and right. It doesn’t sit well with me.” Jordan hands it to me. “Get it back to her, okay?”

“Sure.” He’s so honest. It pings my memory back to my worksheet I submitted to Melanie this morning. Honesty is a turn-on. So is the protective bristling he has over the elderly patrons. Is this what it feels like to have a radar? I let him hold eye contact with me, but I feel nothing inside.

I look over at Teddy and realize my radar is calibrated very specifically.

I ask, “Where’s Sandy?” She’s usually poolside, ready to teach the class. Jordan excuses himself to go and call her. Teddy is marooned by the bleachers, covered in purses. I make my way over to him.

All in all, today’s going great. Teddy’s going to take that tank top off and drench himself, head to toe. I’m probably going to watch. This is all happening during work hours. Life is a gift. I’m smiling when I join him, holding out my arms for the bags.

“Did he just give you his phone number?” Teddy’s indignant.

“No, he gave me back the twenty bucks Renata tipped him just for existing.” I shoulder the bags. “I hope she doesn’t do that a lot.”

“She only tips good-looking people. It’s a rule she has.”

“Well, great. She’s never tipped me once.” I hang the bags in the change room. We’re talking like things are back to normal. Renata and Aggie are seated on the sidelines, both looking lively and distracted. I’m easily able to slip the money back into Renata’s purse—a Hermès Birkin, tossed like a lunch sack on the wet concrete.

“I forgot how cold and hard bleachers feel,” Renata tells me, in a tone like everything’s my fault. “And what chlorine smells like. I wish I’d never come at all, but Theodore insisted. Well, what are you waiting for?” She points at the pool. “Go on, get in, show me your doggy paddle.”

“I usually stay out. That way I can see if anyone’s struggling.” I fold up some towels into cushions for them both to sit on.

“What’s this I’m hearing about Providence being developed? It’s all the old folk are talking about.” Renata does not include herself in that demographic. “Inside scoop, please. Gossip is currency.”

“I don’t know. The Prescott family owns the site and they’re conducting a site review. Could you talk to Teddy? I’ve been really hoping he’d become an ally for Providence in whatever’s coming up.”

She thinks this over. “I don’t know. Maybe it would be the push Aggie needs to get out of this place. Central Park views would make her feel years younger.”

Aggie sighs deeply and does not reply. She is methodically scraping at a scratch card with her famous lucky penny that she’s had since she was a child.

“I need him to fall in love. With Providence,” I amend just as Renata’s eyebrows ratchet up.

I turn right as Teddy’s fist twists in the bottom of his tank and pulls up. A big cheer rises up from the dirty old pervs in the water. I guess I’m looking like I’m going through something, because Renata says to me, “I want an exact description of what you’re feeling.”

“I’m praying that his front isn’t as nice as his back.” Mainly, I’m just praying. He’s honey smooth. Tattoos everywhere, cut off under the waistband of his board shorts, all of them silly and perfectly done. He is a fresh coloring book and I’m a neat, tidy girl who thoroughly stays between every line.

He turns around, balling up his tank. “You getting in?”

“Goddamn it,” I blaspheme reflexively, because:

The front half of his torso is good, I mean,

So, so good,

So, so, so good.

“Pardon?” Teddy walks over, and I’m shrinking backward into the bleachers. “Oh, I get it, Ruthie’s fainting at the sight of my magnificence.” (Yes.) “You getting in?” He hooks his finger under the peeking-out strap of my bland one-piece swimsuit. “This looks like you’re thinking about it.”

I am very close to falling face first into a kaleidoscope of tattooed skin so I puff up defensively. “Sylvia doesn’t pay me to actually participate. I’m working.” It had occurred to me when I was getting ready for today that this might be one of my last chances to come back smelling faintly of chlorine.

“Sylvia doesn’t pay you to run an entire activities program, but here we are,” Teddy counters patiently. “Get in. Experience something.” It’s so hot in here I envy his shirtless state. At least, that’s how I’ve decided to label my intense torso-interest.