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I Live in My Scuba Gear
Chapter One
Russell Twyce
I Live In My Scuba GearChapter One“You won gold in the back stroke, breast stroke, freestyle and thebutterfly,” Belinda Lyle asked, “but you didn’t compete in the four byone hundred relay. Why not? That could’ve given you a fifth gold.”“Just because.” Scott Wagner answered offhandedly. He was moreinterested in toweling off after a recreational session that had includedall of his four swimming disciplines.“Some of your teammates have expressed displeasure at your refusalswim with them.” Belinda trailed along as he walked towards theshowers. “They feel that with your speed in anchor, they would’veplaced first instead of sixth.”“They should’ve just swum faster.” The Olympic star went into thelocker room.“May we talk afterwards?” Her request bounced off his backunanswered and she watched him disappear into the men’s changeroom. The last thing she saw was the sentence ‘I live in my scubagear’, tattooed across his shoulders.“I should’ve mentioned that his time in the four by one hundreddistance I just saw might’ve been gold if he had performed the relayalone.” She muttered aloud after consulting her stopwatch. The reporter strolled around to the pool lobby entrance to the men’schange room door. She jotted down the three sentences the sport starhas uttered and then she looked at them.“I can’t use these in a story.” She flipped to a fresh page in hernotebook and jotted down his tattooed sentence. ‘I live in my scubagear.’ Her eyes lost focus on the page as she mentally reviewed thereasons that brought her here.Scott Wagner was a swimming sensation. He had suddenly appearedat an Olympic qualifying swim meet and had vastly outstripped hiscompetition to win a berth. At the world games, he had left all theother swimmers in his wake on the way to gold in each event he hadentered. Sports reporters from around the globe clambered to speakwith him but he shrugged them all off.“Getting him to talk with me would give my reporting career the boostthat I need.” She crossed her knees and adjusted the material of herknee length plaid skirt. That with a white shirt and her auburn hairarranged in pigtails gave her the appearance of a schoolgirl doing a
homework assignment. Other female sports journalists had triedalmost every variety of looks to try to entice an interview with thiselusive star.“You’re still here?” Scott emerged suddenly and saw her touching upher makeup.“Of course I am.” Belinda tucked away her compact. “I want to speakwith you.”“For the record no doubt. But now is not a very good time because I’mhungry.”“I’ll buy you dinner,” she blurted, “and we can chat informally.” The Olympic swimming sensation stopped and scrutinized her. Hewasn’t drawn to her teen costume but it did lend an air of desperation,as if she would do anything.“Can you keep your notebook in your bag while we eat?”“Certainly!” Belinda almost swallowed her bubblegum. She would justmake sure that she could find a sly moment to switch on her digitalvoice recorder.—X—O—X—“This is nice.” Belinda glanced around the upscale restaurant set on aseaside quay. Internally she cringed at a thought of how much the billwould amount to. So far she had not gotten anything from him. In thetaxi, he had been quiet as a Greek statue—as well as his classicphysique being as sexually appealing as one too.”“I like the sea.” His gaze was on the sun setting into the aquatichorizon. The yellow orb was already half submerged and with thegolden reflection pointing directly at them, it looked like a comet fromthe earth streaking back into space. “I wish I could be underwater atthe exact place where the sun is splashing down.”“That would be rather warm for my tastes.” Her cheeks reddened as if flash burnt by the reflected ray because it suddenly seemed to Belindathat her perspective was off center. Normally the spear of sunlight onthe water should’ve aimed directly at her eyes but this one was slightlyoff and it was pointing towards the Olympic star.“I suppose so.” Scott smiled for the first time since their meeting.“You like scuba diving?” She found his smile enigmatic and yearned tofind out what was behind his standoffish nature. “Your life in scubagear tattoo was a clue.”“Scuba gives me the gills that I can’t find otherwise.”“Then your tattoo means—.” Belinda had to break off her sentencebecause a waiter had hustled over with menus. She silently growled atthe man’s efficiency at such an inopportune moment when sheseemed to have found a juicy topic to explore.“What would you like to drink?” The waiter asked.“Just water for me.” Scott said.“I’ll take a glass of red wine.” Belinda had briefly considered havingonly the same as him but since she had a tough job ahead in cracking
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