Rick was about 20 feet from the parking lot entrance, when he felt a hand close tightly on his right shoulder.
"Not leaving so soon, Rico?" said a deep male voice.
Rick sighed.
"It's Rick, Coach Montes," Rick said turning to face the swim coach, "Rick, not Rico. Rico's that shorter dude with oily black hair and tattoos. He always wears that same white t-shirt and black leather jacket?"
"Yeah, Rico, you blew off swim practice last Friday, so you owe me some workout time, if you want to stay on the team?"
"Now, coach?" Rick asked, "I've got football business to take care of-"
"Now, Rico. And football season is over. Swimming is just getting started. Montes grip shifted from his shoulder to Rick's biceps, as he guided Rick back toward the Athletic Center.
Rick rolled his eyes. He let the coach guide him through the locker room, past the sauna and into the empty natatorium.
"Looks like no one else showed up, coach?" said Rick with a grin.
"Oh, they showed up on Friday. You didn't. This is detention swim. Now suit up."
"Uh, right? Oh, I didn't bring my suit today, coach. It's home hanging in my shower," Rick lied. His suit was in his locker.
"No worries, I always carry a spare," Montes said pulling a skimpy bit of shiny Spandex out of his shorts' pocket. He tossed it to Rick. Rick held the garment gingerly between both index fingers, and grimaced. It was hot pink, and two sizes to small.
"I just remembered, I might have a spare suit in my locker," Rick argued.
Montes looked disgusted, as he checked his watch.
"Suit up. In that suit now, Rico!"
Rick almost started to correct the coach, but thought better of it. Fifty laps was way better than a hundred laps. So Rick stripped out of his clothes, and pulled on the tiny suit.
"Be sure to tap the sensor at each end of the pool or your laps won't count," advised Coach Montes, and nodding to the press box above the stands, "I'll be up there watching."