The first story I submitted to Literotica only drew comments from about 5% of readers; therefore, I am requesting that if you do read this story, please consider leaving a comment, no matter how brief. I only began writing fiction again about six years ago and can use all the constructive criticism I can get.
Thanks, the author
Colby kept shuttling back and forth between the adult pool and the kiddie pool, careful to keep a watchful eye on both as throngs of people kept filtering in and out of the city's central swim center. In this his final summer as chief lifeguard at the center, he was amazed at the number of people coming through and more convinced than ever that this year's crowds were the biggest he'd seen in his three years of working here. Of course the kiddie pool had always been a popular attraction for the kindergarten set who seemed to have a natural love of water and for their parents who were forever on the lookout for ways to entertain their little ones over the long summer months. But the much larger and deeper adult pool was suddenly proving to be very popular as well. Colby chalked it up to a heat wave that was driving records numbers of teenagers to the area's water attractions. Colby didn't mind the hectic activity so much because it kept the eager beaver young assistants that the parks department had assigned to him busy and out of his hair.
Tessa and Jim had been recruited from the swim teams at local high schools, just as Colby had been, and while their water skills were good, their people skills were poor to nonexistent which meant that any significant interaction with the public generally sent them scurrying to find Colby. Lucky for him Colby had trained junior lifeguards before, and knew how to channel their energies before they overwhelmed him with endless questions. He had put these two in charge of swimming lessons and also assigned them the task of periodically checking the locker rooms.
Despite the occasional headaches of the job, Colby had truly enjoyed the summers he'd spent here and knew he was going to miss the place once he moved on to college in the fall. But then again he wasn't going to miss it too much. He had already been accepted into the creative writing program at State University and was looking forward to trying out for their nationally-ranked swim team. He would be joining his older brother Scott who was about to begin his third year at State. Colby looked up to his brother like no one else.
Just then Colby's reverie was disrupted when Tessa and Jim came running up to him.
"Oh, wow," said Jim, a little breathless. "You should see what's going on outside the gates."
"What?" asked Colby.
"Three black guys, drinking, smoking, playing rap music real loud," said Tessa, just as excited as Jim.
"Where?" said Colby.
"Outside. Over there . . . by the picnic tables," responded the trainees simultaneously, indicating an area just beyond the main entrance gates. As Colby made his way over to the area, he could see that the trainees had not been exaggerating. Three young guys were perched on one of the picnic tables adjacent to the swim center, laughing and talking, drinking beer, and playing a boom box so loudly that patrons throughout the swim center could hear it. And sure enough, one of them was taking furtive tokes on what looked like a marijuana joint.
Colby shook his head and sighed. City rules strictly forbade drinking, smoking and loud parties in the parks. Generally speaking, lifeguards were not responsible for activities that went on outside the swim centers; however, as city employees, they were obligated to say something or report an obvious infraction taking place on city property if they saw one. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal, but in this case, it might be. These three guys weren't just black, they were tough, street savvy, and showing lots of attitude. Colby did not relish the idea of telling them they needed to take their party elsewhere.
As he approached the trio, Colby thought he recognized one of them, the oldest one, the one with the joint. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a guy who used to be one of his brother Scott's best friends. His name was Billy Ray Johnson, and he played on the same state district champion football team that Scott once did. In fact, Scott and Billy Ray had been the two standouts on the team, playing quarterback and principal wide receiver respectively. And like Scott, Billy Ray received a full scholarship to State to play ball at the college level. Some people even thought that of the two of them, Billy Ray had the greatest potential to move on to the pros, but, alas, it was not to be. Only weeks before he was to report to campus, Billy Ray was arrested for drug possession, and eventually sent to prison for a couple of years. Everyone talked about how tragic it was that a young man with such a promising future had seen it all snuffed out by such a stupid mistake. Colby had met Billy Ray through his brother, but had come to like him an awful lot. He took the news of Billy Ray's arrest especially hard. Lots of kids dabbled in drugs, he knew. And it seemed to him somehow bitterly unfair that Billy Ray had been made to pay such a high price for doing something that many others also did.
It also occurred to Colby that hanging out with a bad crowd, drinking in public, and smoking marijuana were probably also not on the list of things someone should be doing if he was on parole. He knew he would have to handle this situation carefully.
"Hey, look who it is!" exclaimed Billy Ray who recognized Colby even before the young lifeguard had a chance to greet him. "It's Scott Thorsen's little bro, the swimmer boy. How the hell you been, little brother?'
"Can't complain," said Colby, thoroughly relieved to see the big smile of recognition on Billy Ray's face. As he exchanged a quick fist bump of greeting with his brother's former friend, Colby let go of any apprehension that this might turn into a confrontation.
"And how's the big man himself?" asked Billy Ray. "How's good ole Scott?"
"Good," said Colby, "at least he was the last time I saw him. He's all wrapped up in college stuff and we don't see much of him."
"Yeah, I bet he is. He's at State—right? Y'know, I was supposed to go there."
"Yeah, I remember. Actually, I'm set to got there myself in the fall. But I'm not like you and Scott. They don't hand out too many scholarships to lowly swimmers."
"Well, it's not like I got to use mine," said Billy Ray ruefully. "You're lucky. You still get to go. Me, I'll never see the inside of a college."
"So who's he?" said one of the younger guys.
"I told you: Scott's little brother. Don't you remember Scott?" said Billy Ray to the guy. "Tall, good-looking white dude from high school. He was the q.b. on the team back when I was wide receiver. We used to be real tight. Say, little brother," said Billy Ray turning back to me. "I'm blanking on your name. What was it again?'
"Colby."
"Fuck, that's right. How could I forget? Anyway, Colby, this here is my little bro Jamal."
"Hey, man," said Jamal, taking another swig of beer. "Yeah, and over here is my blood, Tryon. We mostly just call him Try."
