A Body to die for

and run.”
    I struggled to work my throbbing fingers, barely managing to unhook the key chain off her belt. Then I was off. I unlocked the electric cell block door, slipped out and closed it as quietly as possible. The cheers from the prisoners must have been audible. I didn’t spot the guard with the short neck, though.
    Edging around the front hallway, I stuck to the walls like Velcro. I saw and heard nothing. I took Mama from my bag and held her in front of me. I kept moving, slowly by carefully, until I saw the front entrance. I smiled. Just twenty feet and I was golden. “Don’t move a muscle, lady.”
    I turned around anyway. The male guard was standing ten feet behind me, his gun pointed squarely at my nose. I put my hands up. He said, “Drop the gun on the floor and kick it over to me.”
    He seemed nervous but confident. For a second, I wondered if I was sunk.
    But then, the Goddess smiled.
     

10

Desperado
     
     
    Officer Martinez materialized over Short Neck’s left shoulder. She ambled unsteadily toward us. He didn’t hear her. Her jaw was already purple. A trickle of blood ran from her nose. I stared straight into Short Neck’s tiny brown eyes. He drilled his gaze into mine.
    Martinez gathered her strength to draw her gun. She screamed, “Drop it!” I did nothing of the sort. Short Neck, confused by the desperate shrill behind him, cursed loudly and let his gun fall out of his palm. It hit the floor with an echoing thud. He turned around to look at who’d challenged him, but by the time Martinez spun past him in the narrow hallway, I was history.
    I flew like an eagle as fast as my platforms could flap. I got some bizarre stares from plebes on the street. I thought it was my dress, then realized I was still holding my gun. I crammed it in my purse.
    If they didn’t catch me within the next five minutes, it didn’t matter. I slugged a cop. I was fucked. I kept running—my adrenaline carried me fast and far. Before I knew where I was headed, I was racing up Pierrepont Street toward the Western Athletic Club. I stopped to catch my breath at the corner of Henry. I weighed the pros and cons of walking straight into bigger trouble than I was already in. The only pro I could think of was Janey. What did I have to lose, anyway? I felt reckless—and single.
    Seeing no one on the street, I dashed toward the club entrance. Ergort wasn’t standing on guard outside—strange for a sunny afternoon. I walked right into the club. I was shocked by my image in the mirrors on the walls. My dress was in tatters, my right shoe was falling apart, my chin was bruised. I looked a fright—but somehow thinner from all the exertion of the day.
    A couple of anorexics passed me in workout togs. I smiled at them and waved energetically. Horrified at the possibility that they knew me, they quickly flip-flopped into the Cut Me store. Acting official, I slipped behind the front reception desk. Janey was nowhere to be found either, so I took the opportunity to snoop around. The video monitors were humming. I recognized no one on the screens. I flipped through some schedules and opened drawers. “Ah-ha,” I said. “The key.” In fact, there were about fifteen of them, all suspiciously similar in size and shape to the elevator key Jack had used to gain access to Ameleth’s suite. I took one and pocketed it. I picked up the intercom. I buzzed Ameleth’s suite. She answered and said hello. I thought I heard a voice in the background. Female. High-pitched, hostile. Ameleth said again, “Hello? Jesus, who the fuck is it?” If Ameleth were a flower, she’d be an impatiens.
    I tried my best Brooklynese accent. “You order a large with sausage?”
    “What?” she asked. “I ordered nothing, simp.”
    I replaced the receiver and left the desk. I made for the elevators. Still no sign of Ergort. I hit the elevator button. It came. I hopped on. Instead of taking the ride all the way up to the suite, I got off on the aerobics floor. I walked toward the front of the building to find the window that would put me on the fire escape. An aerobics class was in session. The instructor—a neatly packaged brunette with arms the size of breadsticks —shouted over the music, “One, two, three, and hold. One, two, three, and breathe. One, two, three, and stretch. You’re the boss. You’re the boss. It’s all you, babe.” She faced a wall-length mirror. Behind her, the women panted and fought desperately to keep up. I