Page 39 of Beach Bodies

‘That death last year,’ he says. ‘Michael Johnson.’

The name hits me like a sucker punch, and for a second, I’m really and truly out of breath.

It’s OK, I reassure myself. It was no secret, and Daniel’s writing an article about the Riovan. Of course he’d come across that unsavoury tidbit.

I straighten. Force myself to breathe normally. Make my face neutral despite the racket of pounding in my chest.

‘Yeah, the music producer, right?’ I say it casually, like I’m going with the flow here. At least… I’m pretty sure I say it casually.

‘Manager,’ he corrects. ‘For Carli Elle. Serena said you knew her, right?’

‘Carli, yeah, she’s great.’

‘Too bad her career hasn’t recovered from losing Michael.’

I make a noncommittal noise, even though this is news to me. I squash the little surge of guilt. Better a career hiccup than a parasitical manager who makes you hate yourself. And yes, I’ll die on that hill.

‘You were working here last summer, weren’t you?’ says Daniel. ‘When he died?’

‘I was.’

‘Must have been intense.’

‘Yeah. It was such a shock. There was a big staff meeting—’ I don’t have to pretend to shiver. ‘Vic was worried about negative media attention. They basically ordered us not to talk about it.’ I look in the mirror and lean in, pretending to examine a spot on my skin.

‘Well, I have a theory about it,’ he says, also casual, like he’s recapping a football game.

‘His … death?’

‘Yep.’

I try to make light. ‘You have a theory about everything.’

He walks up behind me. I force myself to meet his eyes in the slowly unfogging mirror.

‘Well… less of a theory,’ he says. ‘More like something I’ve wondered about, and now that I know you’re an amateur electrician, I might as well ask you.’ He swivels a finger in his ear.

‘Shoot,’ I say, even as I leave the bathroom, the oppressive post-shower humidity, the oppressive closeness of Daniel. I make for my clothes, the red bathing suit like a fallen rose petal on the floor, and the white sweatpants next to it.

My eyes catch on the bed where, ten minutes ago, I was sitting cross-legged and happy, thinking that my life might be taking a new direction.

Then I moved, and the small eternity shattered, just like I knew it would.

It doesn’t have to be ruined. Maybe Daniel is just venting his curiosity.

I should play it cool.

I should get out of here.

Daniel, a towel tied around his waist, follows me. ‘How hard would it be to bypass a breaker for a specific room in a hotel?’

‘Um… no idea?’ I crouch to pick my clothes up off the floor even as a fresh wave of panic washes through my body.Not hard,I think,as long as you know where to find it.

There are electrical panels on every floor, in the utility closets by the ice machines. The doors are locked, and so is the panel itself, but I’m good at getting hold of keys I’m not supposed to have.

‘So theoretically,’ he continues, taking a seat on the side of the bed and leaning back on his arms, ‘if someone wanted to murder Michael Johnson by electrocution in the bathtub, what would you say their first step would be? Bypassing the breaker, right?’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want to rewind to the part where I was admiring Daniel’s ass.

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