Page 82 of Dickathlon

“Wait. This is Beverly Hills. Your parents live in Beverly Hills?!”

“I didn’t mention that?”

“No!” I punched his shoulder. “Holy shit. I knew they were rich, but this…” I gawked at the perfect rows of palm trees lining the road.

Declan slowed and turned into a driveway hidden by lush, tropical foliage. He stopped in front of a large, cast-iron gate.

“Hi, Declan.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“See you in a minute.”

I heard a buzz and the gate in front of us slowly opened.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. I hope to God they like me.”

“So, Tyler, Declan told us you’re a gymnastics coach. How do you like that?”

“It’s really great, Mrs. Moore.”

“I told you, you can call me Avery.”

“Yes, ma-Avery.” I gave her my best smile. It was hard to tell if I was impressing her.

“What age kids do you coach again? I’m sorry to say I’ve forgotten,” his dad, Elijah, asked.

“Middle school, around ten to fourteen,” I answered.

“That must be interesting.”

I suppose the small talk was a good sign. What exactly were we supposed to talk about when we just met thirty minutes ago?

We were having lunch at a four-seat table on their back patio. If you could call it that. It was more of an outdoor living room. The pool was clearly custom-designed with several waterfalls built around intricately designed landscaping. A large jacuzzi surrounded by natural rock formations cascaded into the pool below.

“I see you’re admiring our pool. Would you like to go for a swim after lunch?”

“I-”

“We’d love to, Mom, but maybe next time. We’ve got to get to Palm Springs by this evening.”

“I didn’t realize you were in such a rush, son. We’ll have to plan another get together. Perhaps after this year’s championship? I know how busy you get.”

I didn’t realize we were in a rush either. Is he trying to get us out of here?

“How is training going?” Avery asked.

“Good. Yuri’s looking into training at Chula Vista instead of UCLA for next year.”

What’s Chula Vista?

“Is UCLA not working out anymore?”

“It’s not quite that, Dad. There’s just a lot of distractions there.”

“What would happen to your apartment?”