sycophancy

noun

1. obsequious behaviour towards someone important in order to gain advantage.

Swimming lessons with my private physio therapist slash swim coach - Ms Lockley ended with me exhausted once again. My knee ached, but it was the ache of a much needed work out, not of the strain of overused healing ligaments. My last hopping lap down the pool was lonely and tiring, and the pool noodle that I was holding onto got away from me a few times. I reached the end of the pool, too frustrated to get out. I threw the noodle out of the water, nearly hitting my therapist in the process. I went to apologise to her then realised she hadn't even noticed. She was chatting with a couple of older university students who looked like they could be apart of the national swim team.

Buffed, slim builds with wide swimmer shoulders, abs and pecks to die for. Definitely swimmers and by the way Ms Lockley was talking and laughing with them, I could tell they'd probably been her students at come point before. I clumsily pulled myself out of the pool when my therapist finally noticed me and helped me up to standing.

"Sorry, Love. I got distracted with some old students of mine." She held onto me but stepped aside to show me the two guys clad in mid-range labelled swimming jammers. They politely smiled at me as Ms Lockley introduced us.

"This is my client, Ms Twice." I flipped wet hair off my face then politely waved hello as I tried to carefully balance on one leg while Patricia handed me my crutch.

"Hi, nice to meet you." I smiled at the two good looking guys, thinking, where was Grant when you needed him. He's gonna regret missing out on this.

"Hi, Ms Twice," they both replied with faux interest. It wasn't until Ms Lockley let it slip that I was Wallace Overmeyer's step daughter that fake interest turned into real interest and they began to look like a couple of sharks smelling blood in the water. Their eyes widened, smiles widened, chests... widened? Were they pulling their shoulders back to make their muscles look bigger? I thought, Holy smex on a stick! as Grant would say. But the change was so obviously dramatic it felt so fake.

I really wanted to take a step back, an automatic response as their supposed prey, but then remembered that was how I used to live and stopped myself in time. Nothing and no one intimidated me these days, well, parents not-with-standing. I turned to Patricia who handed me a towel and quietly stepped between me and the two swimming jocks.

"I have to get going to my next appointment. Nice to meet you both." I gave a little fake smile and quickly turned to Ms Lockley. "My place, same time next week?" I decided on the spot that changing location for our next therapy session was imperative. The bait in the water was attracting too many jerks.

Ms Lockley's face looked confused, not really understanding the situation, but I quickly hobbled towards the ladies changing rooms before she could clarify anything. I think Patricia quietly adjusted our next session time for half an hour later so we'd have time to drive home from my Business Analytics class.

"Let me help you, Ms Twice. The tiles here are slippery." Shark number one tried to take a hold of my hand while Shark number two moved a head of us to make a path way through the throng of students who has just arrived for swimming club.

"I'm OK. Thanks." I refused his hand then endured their sycophancy all the way to the entrance of the women's changing rooms. I received a number of nasty looks from both women and men on my way through, but refused to acknowledge anything the sharks said or did around me until I was finally in the disabled changing cubical, leaning on the bench sink, breathing. Then I giggled, remembering how some of those beautiful swimming bunnies all dolled up in string bikinis wearing makeup and expensive jewellery... for a swimming club training session. They looked ridiculous.

"Oh my goddess!" I exclaimed. No wonder the swimming club was so popular these days. Hot bods, raging hormones... Yeah, I think changing locations for my swimming therapy sessions was a fantastic idea.

I quickly changed out of my swim shorts and tankini and into my ribcage wide leg jeans, then threw on a cream peasant top with long sleeves over my white singlet. The geometric embroidery in dark and bright blues matched the dark jeans really well. A touch of lip gloss and I was done. Patricia met me at the exit, and knowing that I didn't want to bump into any more sharks, she had me wait until Grant notified her that he was in the university gym car park with our SUV. I smiled gratefully at her when she mentioned the reason for the wait.

"I could tell you were not interested in meeting anyone from the swimming club. You looked decidedly uncomfortable," she stated. I nodded in reply. A moment later and she received a text from Grant saying he was here.

Before we'd even set foot outside of the change room exit on the reception side, we could hear ladies whining and complaining about why the swim jocks had to wait out here in the reception area instead of in the swimming pool.

"Its so boring out here, let's go in, OK?" Said one particularly high pitched voice. I shuddered, envisioning wanna-by second generation princesses all clamouring for the jocks attention. I heard six different voices, whining.

I stopped before we passed the wall that would expose us and handed Patricia my crutch and bag. She passed me her hat in return and murmured, "Meet you at the car," and left quietly before me.

I pull on Patricia's peaked cap after stuffing my hair up into it, not that it all fitted, and slowly walked out while trying to hide my limp. I waved at someone the opposite direction from the group of swimming clubbers, giving an excuse as to hide my face, and made it through the swarm of students moving through the reception area, going every which way. By the time I met the open car door, my leg was shaking and I was wincing a little in aching pain in my knee. Grant got the message to quickly leave and he left as soon as my car door was shut and my seat belt was plugged in.

"Are you alright, Lily?" Grant asked as Patricia took my hand bag and handed me a bottle of water and a tray of pain killers.

"We can't do that again, Patricia." I responded, then thanked her for the pills.

"What happened?" Grant was clueless.

"Sharks in the water." I responded. When he didn't get my reply, Patricia quietly explained how Ms Lockley bumped into her old students and let it slip that I was Wallace's step daughter and they started sucking up to me.

"I've made arrangements for Ms Lockley to meet you in the downstairs swimming pool at Liberty Building, next week."

"Thank you." I replied.

Then my phone rang. I looked at the screen to see that it was Wallace. I smiled a tired smile and answered his call.

"Hi Wallace."

"Hi lily," was the first thing he said. "I think I've found your mother," was the second. "I might be on phone silence for the next two days, just giving you a heads up." I sat up in the car seat, interested in what he had to say.

"What's happening?" I asked, worry and excitement at war within me. My mum might have been found.

"I've arranged with local law enforcement to join them on a sting operation but we have to go in by foot or we will scare the kidnappers into using their helicopter and escaping."

"What about mum? Have you seen her? How is she?" Both Grant and Patricia turned around to look at me as I asked Wallace these questions, then Patricia hit Grant's arm and waved for him to watch the road.

"Spy camera shows her safe and sound, but under house arrest. I can't give you any more details than this. Hang in there, kiddo. I'll get your mother out as fast as I can. I have to go. Love you." Then he hung up before I could reply.

My heart was thumping in my chest, my throat tightening painfully. I took a couple of deep breaths as I held to my chest my phone, the only life line I had to my mother.

"OK, OK. Good." I really wanted to cry. Three and a half weeks, and I had already convinced myself that I might never see her again. When there was no ransom demands, or communication from those who had taken her, the detective in charge of mum kidnapping case warned us that she was likely to be already... that she was probably already gone.

"What did he say?" Grant asked quietly. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to stop myself from crying, then took a couple more deep breaths before I answered him and told them both what Wallace had told me.

"Two days, that's good news." Grant's ever present positivity shone through, making me smile. I changed the subject.

"Can we go visit Jac-Jac?" I asked, then sat back in my seat and looked out the car window as Patricia rang the Grandparents and Grant took us there.