Brenda scoffed, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Private backyard? Don't be ridiculous. This is clearly an extension of the HOA recreational facility. Look at the size of it! You don't own this, Julian. The Association does. And as President, I am ordering you and your unauthorized guests to vacate the premises immediately."
Julian’s brother leaned against the edge of the pool, crossing his arms. "Julian, do you want me to call someone?"
"No, Carlos. Stay in the water. Enjoy the sun," Julian said, his eyes never leaving Brenda. "Let the President of the HOA do whatever she feels is necessary."
"Oh, I will," Brenda hissed. She pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her white tennis dress. "Since you refuse to comply with community rules and are now exhibiting hostile behavior, I am calling the police. We will see how smug you are when you are escorted off the property in handcuffs."
Brenda dialed 911, pacing back and forth on the edge of the travertine patio. She spoke into the phone with a wildly exaggerated tone of distress, claiming she was a community official currently being intimidated by a resident who had overrun a shared facility with undocumented guests.
Julian simply watched her, occasionally taking a sip of his iced tea. The sheer, blinding arrogance required to walk through a private, locked wooden gate, bypass a private driveway, and claim a fenced-in backyard was public property was almost impressive.
His family, initially tense, realized Julian was completely in control of the situation. Carlos whispered something to his wife, and they quietly moved to the shallow end, watching the spectacle unfold like a bizarre reality television show.
"They are on their way," Brenda announced, snapping her phone shut and crossing her arms over her chest. "The dispatcher assured me an officer is just a few streets over. You have five minutes to get these people out of the water before this becomes a criminal matter."