Page 44 of Driving Beats

“I bet.” His wife says something else in the background. “Listen, Coop, I have to run. If you’re able to make the party, we would love to see you. Otherwise, I hope you can be here for the birth.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Congrats again.”

The line disconnects. I wander over to my closet and open random drawers. On my second try, my new bathing suits stare back at me. Might as well take a dip in the pool.

I’m happy for Andy, as he’s happy I won the Oscar. We travel in different worlds, yet he’s still my brother. I’m his son’s godfather. This truth sinks into my bones as I remove my jeans and slide up the board shorts.

Sometimes I would like to trade places with him. Be the family man, with all the amazing obligations that entails. He can be the rockstar, traveling the world to exhaustion.

I remove my shirt as reality sets back in.

Nah. I wouldn’t want to be an electrician, as that life would confine me. Playing music with my best friends to adoring crowds suits me. Missing out on the wife and kids, though, still cuts.

Leaving my room, a splash echoes through the hallway. What the hell? I race to the pool, half expecting to find ducks in there like the last time.

I round the corner then skid to a halt—Nese is causing all the ruckus. She’s splashing everywhere, from the pool to the cement surrounding it. On the other side of the deck, I yell. “What are you? Like four?” My nephew’s age.

“Better than being an old man,” she shoots back.

That does it. I’m tired of being called old and accused of living in the last decade. I stomp over to the side of the pool. As I’m about to jump in, I challenge, “I am not old!”

I break the surface and swim over to her, causing a splash to spew in all directions. When we’re face to face, I create a near tidal wave with my arms and direct it at her.

For her part, Nese cups her palms and pushes the water toward me.

I put my hands on top of her head and push her under the water, making sure to let her up before too long.

Sputtering, she breaks the surface. She takes a big mouthful of water and streams it at me.

“No you didn’t!” I dunk my upper body, then launch myself at her. Capturing her arms behind her, I stand.

And freeze.

She’s not wearing a bathing suit.

She’s not wearing anything.

I drop my arms.

Before I process, she splashes me again, shouting, “Take that, Grandpa!”

I rub my hands over my face to get rid of the excess water. “You’re not wearing anything.”

Her bare shoulders break the surface. “I thought I could skinny dip in silence until you came along.”

“It’s my house. I can go wherever I want.”

“I suppose that’s true. I just didn’t picture you as a pool type of guy.”

I’m about to counter that the pool is on my grounds, but stop myself. Why am I fighting her? I should do the gentlemanly thing and leave her be. Forget she’s swimming naked in my pool.

I take one step toward her.

Guess I’m not a gentleman. “You know what happens to troublemakers who end up where they’re not supposed to be?”

She takes a step backward. Not looking repentant at all, she asks, “What?”

I walk toward her again. “They get spanked.”