A Body to die for

Maybe we should cut our losses now.”
    Falcone shook her head in disgust. “Why don’t you just tell Mallory everything. That’s a great idea.” Ameleth flexed her legs compulsively in response. This didn’t look good for me. Falcone removed her gun from her shoulder holster. She walked toward me with the barrel in her hand.
    I said, “Before you do anything you’ll regret, you should know that there are twenty men with guns downstairs waiting for my word to arrest you all.” Falcone leered. The flat end of the black gun butt was the last thing Í saw.

    I was on a sunny beach in a black tank suit. A skinny boy in cutoffs scrambled up a palm tree in his bare feet. He hacked down a coconut with his machete. After jumping out of the tree, he chopped the top off the fruit, plunked a straw in the hole and handed it to me. I licked my lips in anticipation for the sweet, thick taste of coconut milk. I took a sip. It tasted like sand mixed with paste. I looked up. The little kid was laughing.
    I woke with a start. I opened my eyes, but the light was blinding. I had to shut them. I tried to move my arms, but they were immobile. So were my legs. I tried to turn over, but found that I was stuck inside a body-shaped capsule. I was like toothpaste in a tube. My eyelids pulsed with flashes of color and light.
    I heard a click. The light disappeared. I felt the first rush of panic. Trapped, in a tiny dark place. I squirmed around and tried to thrash my way out. A rush of air blew against my face, and the lid opened like a clam. I must have hit some kind of release. I thanked the Goddess and moved my arms. They felt stiff, but fine. I tried to open my eyes, but I was too dizzy. I touched my face to see if there were any open cuts. Nothing except the egg-size bump on my cheek. I decided to count to ten before I tried to sit up. I folded my arm across my ribs and began counting. Something seemed strange. I ran my hand up to my shoulders. No bumps or tender spots, except for the ones I got with adolescence. I was naked.
    I bolted upright. White spots and wavy lines danced before my eyes. I shook my head and they cleared. I wasn’t wearing my glasses—I wondered where they were—so I had to squint. The lid of the contraption I’d been lying in was comprised of long fluorescentshaped bulbs under a glass casing. A timer was attached to the front of it. The highest time was one hour. I stepped out of the machine to get a better look. The glass bottom part I’d been lying on also contained long bulbs. I looked around the room. There were a few facial tables. A steam machine. A shelf full of creams and ointments. A beauty spa room. Mainly skin stuff.
    It hit me like a flying pan to the skull. I spun around. A sign on the wall behind the capsule confirmed my fears. It read: DO NOT EXCEED TEN MINUTE UV SESSIONS. The capsule was an ultraviolet tanning bed. I checked my watch. It was gone. For all I knew, I’d been under the light for a full hour. I read once that these contraptions can cook someone from the inside out, like a human microwave. I shivered. I touched my skin. It felt normal. I looked in the magnifying mirror by one of the facial tables. My skin seemed as pale as ever.
    As I examined the tip of my nose, I saw him in the mirror behind me. At first I wasn’t sure it was a person, or just a person-size shape in jeans and a T-shirt. I made a mental note to consider contacts. I spun around. He stood frozen like a Popsicle. “If it isn’t the lascivious towel boy,” I said. “Did you turn off the machine?”
    He stood paralyzed with fear or lust—I didn’t really know. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah,” he managed, his eyes locked on my hips.
    “For saving my life, you can have a good long look.” I arranged myself in a flattering posture—one leg forward, knee turned in. I sang a chorus of “Rainy Days and Mondays” in my head. “That’s enough,” I said. “Turn around, but don’t you dare run off. I want to talk to you.”
    My clothes were on a chair by the UY machine. I grabbed my stuff and threw it on. My purse was there. My watch and glasses were inside it. Falcone would be coming back soon to stick a fork in me. I had to get out of the building fast or I’d really get cooked. I said, “Okay, you can turn around.”
    He faced me. I looked him over myself. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. “As you now know,” I said, “I am a natural redhead. That’s one you’ve got up on me. I want you