5. Chapter 4 Katrina
D ecember 2023
The first thing I notice when I pull into the pool’s parking lot is that the building doesn’t look nearly as bad as I remember it being.
Last month, as Liam worked with the owners to finalize the plan and budget, he and I had done a walkthrough on our own. The inside was a chaotic mess, complete with an unpleasant odor that wasn’t residual chlorine. I hadn’t paid too much attention to the concrete exterior, tucked snuggly into a wooded area, too focused on what I’d find inside. Now, I’m beginning to think I let the inside taint the outside in my memory.
The second thing I notice is that someone else is already here. Just one car, though, not two. Then again, the owners could have driven here together.
I pull into one of the many empty parking spaces, but the one that leaves one between myself and the shiny black car. It’s nothing special, standard, and functional, but definitely new. And certainly not the flashy car I’d expect an Olympian to drive. As I cut my engine, the other driver exits his car.
And boy, is he tall. He stands well over six feet, with shoulders so broad I wonder how they even manage to fit in a car like that. He’s styled his dirty blond hair to be slightly disheveled. He’s dressed the way I expect a professional—or former professional—athlete to dress. In nice black joggers, sneakers, and a dark green, long-sleeved shirt that shows off his well-defined arms.
I glance down at my outfit, feeling a bit overdressed. My white T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and gray blazer isn’t anything too special, but it’s more than I typically wear to a job site. Especially when considering I’m wearing makeup and my hair is done. I wanted to make a good impression, and impressions start with appearances.
Grabbing my stuff, I exit my car with a warm smile, ready to dazzle. “Hi there! I’m Katrina Dalton.”
Hi there? Internally, I cringe. I just made myself sound like either an old southern grandma or an overly chatty soccer mom. Neither of which I am. Clearly.
He takes a few of steps toward me to shake my outstretched hand, his smile more reserved than mine. “Bryce Clark, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Clark.” I glance around the parking lot. There’s still no one else here. “Is Mr. Abrams already inside, or is he joining us later?”
Bryce’s brow furrows. “No, he won’t be joining us at all. He’s training in Georgia. He told me he’d sent you an email months ago explaining this.”
I fight to keep the smile on my face. “Yes, I did receive that email. However, he also mentioned he’d be available should the need be pertinent. I expected he’d be here for this meeting.”
Bryce is shaking his head before I even finish my thought. “I apologize for any misunderstanding, but he and I both agreed this meeting isn’t one he needed to be involved in.”
“I’m sorry?” I question, trying not to sound as offended as I suddenly feel.
“That came out wrong. I’m sorry.” He goes to backpedal. “It’s just that we’ve already approved Liam’s plans, which was something he needed to be involved in. The season is about to kick off, and with his first meet next week, we both agreed he didn’t need to be here to go over a construction schedule. I figured you and I were more than capable of handling this, correct?”
Keep smiling, girl, I tell myself. “Absolutely! We should get started then.”
The layout of the building is a tad strange, at least to me, but it works for the purpose the property is serving. Structurally, there shouldn’t be anything major we have to change, and I’m grateful for that. It’s laid out like a large L with the indoor aspects taking up the larger side and the outdoor pool shooting out toward the back behind the lobby. The lobby leads into both pools and the locker rooms while the upstairs houses the offices and full gym. Overall, it didn’t feel like a complex project, it just has a lot of moving parts.
Which is why I wanted to have this meeting. It’s my chance to walk the property with the client and get their input on everything. The more questions I asked, the smoother the construction would go once we get started. What I wasn’t expecting was for Bryce to have just as many questions as me.
“I’m excited to get more natural light in here.” The indoor pool is dark and a little depressing. Liam’s design features more natural light and a wall of windows in the gym that’ll overlook the pool. “I think it’ll add a great element to this space.”
Although Bryce nods, he doesn’t look convinced. “Hopefully, the humidity won’t make it pointless. I like the idea, but I also don’t see the point in spending a bunch of time and money on something that doesn’t even matter.”
“What makes you think it wouldn’t matter? They won’t be fogged over all the time. I’m sure the people using the pool will find it wonderful.”
“Or it’ll blind them,” he argues. “It doesn’t matter which side of the pool the windows are on, the sun will directly hit them at least once a day. I want to make sure no one is blinded during meets—coaches or spectators.”
My frustration is growing by the minute with him. Will’s words from the last night at my place flutter to the front of my mind, reminding me this man doesn’t know how to be anything other than an athlete. He’s not thinking like a business owner who needs to consider the design of his building. He’s being cocky, acting like he knows more than me because he’s been to the Olympics. I can’t let him undermine my authority or knowledge at every turn.
“I understand your concern, but there’s not always going to be a meet here,” I point out with a tight, professional smile. “You need to think about all the people who will be using this space.”
Bryce stands straighter, squaring his broad shoulders. “This is a training center, Katrina. When we’re not hosting meets, swimmers will be training for hours a day. I need to make sure you understand this isn’t a fun pool for families to come and hang out at.”
Ready to get my point across, I place a hand on my hip and pin him with an unwavering look. “Do you really expect me to believe this building will never be open for recreational swimming?” His slight hesitation is all the answer I need. “You need to think about everyone who’ll use this pool, Mr. Clark.”
“Bryce,” he corrects. “Look, it will probably be open to some recreational swimming, especially in the beginning, but it’s not the primary use for this. We’ll have serious swimmers using this space more often than not.”
Deciding to let him believe he’s a little in control of this meeting, I nod sagely. “Yes, serious swimmers, I understand. That’s who the design is catering to, and I’ll make sure it isn’t lost. Shall we continue upstairs?”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he relents, stepping aside to let me take the lead. As we exit the indoor pool, I look back at it, picturing the wall of windows I know will be in there soon enough, and imagine what it’ll look like bathed in natural light with the sun reflecting off the water. I might even have to go swimming once it’s all done. It’ll be great.
A bout an hour later, Bryce and I come to a stop at the disheveled desk in the lobby area. I set the portfolio folder I brought with me on the counter, flipping it open to make sure there isn’t anything else I needed to go over with him. “That’s all I have to go over with you today. Are there questions you want to ask me?”
Hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants, he shakes his head. “Not at the moment. You’ve covered everything I wanted to discuss with you.”
This is one of those moments I wish Thomas were here for, so he can see firsthand how good I am at my job. I am transparent with the clients we work with, and build a relationship of trust and commitment, so I can anticipate their needs before they arise. I know it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do will ever be enough to make him understand how capable I am.
“Great!” I snap the folder closed, a little more forcefully than I mean to, and reach down to stuff it in my bag. “Are you sure you want to be present to help with the cleanout and demo? Just because I offer the option to my clients doesn’t mean I expect everyone to take me up on it. It’s up to you.”
“Why do you offer it if you don’t expect them to take you up on the offer?”
It’s something I started offering after I worked on a few home remodels. There was something grounding about them getting the chance to get their hands dirty. They wanted to be an active part of their project. I never expect businesses to take me up on it, mainly because if they’re fresh builds, there is no demo. But with Bryce, I had the feeling he’d take me up on the offer, as he already seems connected and protective of this place.
“It can be rather cathartic,” I explain as I hoist my bag on my shoulder. “It helps the transition phase and makes you feel like you’re getting a fresh start.”
The grin that overtakes his features is open and honest. It’s something I had yet to see, and it’s a little disarming. “That’s why I’ll be here. This is a clean slate for Carter and me, in ways you couldn’t possibly understand.”
I want to ask questions. Statements like that mean there is more to the story than I know, but I hold back my curiosity. He’s a client, not a friend, and that would involve me crossing so many professional boundaries. Boundaries I can’t afford to cross if I’m trying to impress Thomas and every other asshole in his office.
“Great! I’m always grateful for an extra set of hands.”
The two of us make small talk as we head out for the day, Bryce locking the door behind us. During this meeting, I have found myself wondering how this project might unfold. Bryce and I have already started butting heads over little things and he seems more stubborn than me, which is saying something. But now I think we can reach an understanding—I know what a building needs, and he knows what to do with it once we’re done.
“I’ll see you next week then,” he says once we reach our cars.
Both of us are awkwardly standing there, hovering by the driver’s side doors of our respective vehicles. So I nod. “Yes, have a happy New Year’s Eve and Day, Bryce.”
“Same to you.” He nods before unlocking his door and sliding into the driver’s seat.
By the time I get comfortable behind the wheel of my car, Bryce is already pulling away with a slight wave. I offer one back, unsure if he can even see me as he pulls out of the parking lot. For a moment, I lean back, taking a deep breath, and going over everything from the meeting we’d just had. I can’t shake the feeling that Carter should have been there, and the annoyance I feel surrounding it. I’m worried Bryce won’t be giving him all the updates he needs—that if something happens, or a decision needs to be made, that Carter doesn’t like, it’ll reflect poorly on me.
Normally, I trust my clients to be honest with me, but something about this feels a little weird to me. Carter is a professional swimmer who might live a state over, but can make the drive within a couple of hours. This is his business; it’s not a silent partner situation. He’s going to have an active part in it. He should know things, and he should be part of the important meetings, like today.
My phone is in my hand a second later and I’m drafting a quick email to Carter about everything that we talked about during the walkthrough. By the time I’ve covered everything, the email is long, but I don’t care. Yes, it’s me going over Bryce’s head, but it’s also me covering my ass. I’m the one whose job and position are at stake here, whether they know it or not. I hit send before tossing the phone in the passenger seat and start my car.
I don’t look at my phone again until I’m back at my rental, food in hand, and exhaustion creeping up in my bones. The silence of the townhouse is a little overwhelming, as I’m reminded that I’m alone. If I was back home, nothing would be different about what’s happening now. I wouldn’t go wandering into my parent’s house looking for conversation, they either wouldn’t be there or wouldn’t want to talk. Yet there’s comfort in knowing someone is close by if I need them.
I reach for my phone, thinking I’d text Nadine or Liam, giving them both an update on what’s been happening, and that’s when I see the email from Carter waiting in my inbox. I’d almost forgotten I’d sent that, but click into it and scan his response. He thanks me for all the updates, informs me that Bryce had given him them as well, but appreciates hearing from me. Then, at the bottom of the email, is his phone number. Which I already have but have felt weird using without permission, but now I have it.
I’m horrible at email, he informs me. Please feel free to text me.
Clearly, he wants me to keep updating him on the project, so I save the number and make a mental note to only email when something is too ridiculously long for a text message. I also make a mental note not to let Bryce know I was going over his head, but I stand by what I think: Carter should be part of this.