Page 43 of Savage Beauty

“Thank you,” I say, stepping back from the stream of water. I also gather his fins and mask, because he did something for me. I should do something for him.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Eighteen months.”

“And you never went snorkeling?”

I pause on the top step to the deck. “You’re saying I’m foolish, right?”

Sometimes you miss the forest through the trees. Mom used to say that, and what she meant was that I’m foolish.

“Just saying it’s a perk of living on an island.”

He’s saying I’m foolish. But, in my defense, I do important work. Lifesaving work. And it’s not like I don’t exercise. I ride a bike to work. Or I walk. And on Sunday I video chat with Sage. I pause at the stairs inside the villa. If I explained my perspective, it wouldn’t do anything to make me look less foolish to him. I’m just different from other people, and many people don’t understand that.

“I’m going to go shower,” is all I say because there’s no point in saying anything else.

Goosebumps light my skin, reacting to the cold air. In my apartment, I never turn on the air conditioning. I don’t like air conditioning. I don’t like how it feels, and it increases my carbon footprint.

At the top of the stairs, I shout down, “Can you please turn off the AC?”

“Sure thing.” He’s amenable. Nothing seems to bother him. That must be a nice way to live.

After I shower, shave, and slather my skin in lotion, I get dressed in a pair of shorts and a white, long-sleeve SPF shirt that should protect my skin from any more sun rays today.

When I return downstairs, Max is studying a computer screen. A voice radiates from the computer speakers.

“They installed the cameras at all entrances and exits, but they aren’t wired. Battery-powered. And be aware. They’ve got security cameras too. You see this image?”

I step back and mouth to Max, “I’m going?—”

“Wait guys. Hold on a minute.”

He follows me into the foyer. I don’t like speaking on conference calls when I’m not a member and I’m unaware of all the participants.

“Where are you off to?”

“Bike ride.” His eyebrows furrow and his bulky arms fold beneath his chest. “Just down the road to the stand where they sell papayas.” I hold up some of the cash from the dresser upstairs. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Wait.” He leaves and comes back with a circular silver disc. “Put this in your pocket. You’ve got your cell?”

I shake it in my hand.

“Keep it with you in case you need to call. Here.” He takes my phone and types into it. “Now, you call me…this number…at the first sign of anything concerning.”

“Sam taught me defense skills. And I’ll die before I get into a car with a stranger.” Again. The word rings in my head. Yes, doing anything with a man because he was romance-cover-worthy was inordinately stupid. Stupid is worse than foolish.

“How long will you be?”

I shrug, trying to estimate where we are and where the outdoor market is. “Thirty minutes? I was just going to take one of the beach cruisers sitting outside, since my bike is back at my apartment.”

“Thirty minutes. Any longer and I’m coming looking.”

As I approach the door, a deep voice asks, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Great. The conference call heard us.

The market is essentially an expansive tarp that covers multiple tables with fresh fruit from the island. Set back from the road, about fifty yards from the roadside market, is a small cinderblock building. Cars sometimes park in front of it, but I set my bike on the side in a shallow ditch that’s closest to our villa.

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