by Misa Ramirez
She patted her platinum ponytail. “I happen to like my hair color and I don’t want to have furry eyebrows. But I’m a mom.”
“And?”
“And I’m a mom,” she said again, as if I’d understand the second time around.
“And that’s synonymous with unsexy in your book?”
She flipped her palm up toward the ceiling. “I’m just saying, you wear clothes that show off your body in the best light. My body’s past having a best light.” She winked. “And what you have going on works for Jack, right?”
I wagged my finger at her. “You’re a mom with a killer body. And we are not talking about Jack. I don’t even think I want him to find out about this. You have to promise. Not my parents, either. So you cannot, I repeat, cannot tell Zac. Or Chely.” My fifteen-year-old cousin had the secret-keeping ability of a Gossip Girl on speed. “Or Antonio.”
Lucy frowned. “Why so top secret?”
“Because…” Because I had a job to do, and I knew my family wouldn’t approve. And Jack? He’d given me no reason to think he wouldn’t be on board with me doing my job, but a nudist resort might push the limits of his understanding. Which would be no bueno for our developing relationship. “It’s a case. A murder. And if I’d done a better job and found something out”—my voice hitched—“if I’d found anything out, maybe Jennifer Wallace wouldn’t have died.”
“You’re going tonight, then?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, my stomach seizing with trepidation.
She led me into her workroom, a tranquilly decorated space full of browns and beiges, trickling water, and new age music. “A murder to solve. You’re going for a good cause. So, I’d say a wax job is in order.”
“That’s why I’m here. My eyebrows?”
She laughed, un poquito diabolically. “No, no, I mean waxed.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Is that code for something?”
“I could do a Brazilian,” she suggested, winking at me. My heart started in again like a sledgehammer in my chest.
“A Brazilian?” Talk about full monty. “I don’t think so.” Just the thought of it made me nauseous. “I’m good with a landing strip.”
“You should try it, Lola. Live a little. I got my friend to do mine a couple weeks ago, after Zac and I hit that rough spot.” She winked again. “He loves it.”
I covered my ears. “La-la-la-la. I don’t want to know this.” But it got me thinking again. What would Jack like?
She dragged in a deep breath and then said, “You’re going to see it tonight, so you might as well hear about it now.”
I sputtered. “I’m what?”
She handed me a gown and a paper thong and backed out of the spa room, pressing a button on the stereo as she passed by. Soothing music wafted out of the mounted speakers. “Come on, Lola, a murder? There’s no way I’m letting you go there alone. You couldn’t pay me to stay away.”
She wasn’t Mexican and didn’t speak Spanish, but the punto was implied. If I knew Lucy, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. I held the paper triangle attached to a Y-string. “Uh, really?”
“Just put it on.” I started to protest again but she held up her hand. “It doesn’t have to be Brazilian, chica. Don’t worry. I’ll just clean you up. Make it nice and tidy.”
And she closed the door, leaving me alone in her tranquil studio. I sighed. She’d called me chica. Lucy was going off the deep end. I undressed, slipped on the gown and thong, and lay down in the lounge chair. I was overdue for a cleanup. Detective work was keeping me too busy.
As I waited for Lucy to return, my mind wandered. How would Jack react to my going to a nudist resort? Heck, how did I feel about it?
Scared, that’s how. On both counts. I rubbed my temples. But it was the most viable lead I had, which meant I needed to follow it.
Lucy rapped lightly on the door and poked her head in. “¿Lista?”
I laughed at her horrible accent. “Si.”
She came back into the room, sat next to me, and got to work.
“If you’re coming, you’ll be lying to Zac and I can’t be a party to deception in your marriage,” I said as she spread warm wax along my panty line. The warmth was kind of nice. The calm before the storm. “He didn’t like the whole rehab thing you helped me with, remember? If he thinks you’re at it again, he’s going to forbid you from seeing me.”
“He thinks it’s pretty cool that you’re a dancer for the Royals,” she said, although I thought I heard a touch of hesitation in her voice. “Here we go.” She grabbed hold of the edge of the wax, said, “Take a breath,” and whoomp, she yanked it off.
I slammed my hands onto the sides of the padded table, bracing my body against the pain. Holy Mary Magdalene, mother of God. “Hijo de la chingada,” I said through my clenched teeth.
“No turning back now,” she said brightly.
I sat up on shaky elbows. “Why do women do this?”
Lucy pushed me down. She spread another layer of wax, checked her work from the last strip. “Because it’s sexy,” she said as she yanked.
I held tight to the edge of the table, a tear slipping out of my eye. “I always forget how much it hurts.”
“It’s like childbirth.” She grinned. “I’ll give you a facial when we’re done to make up for the pain.”
“C-can’t. No time. I go from this torture chamber to dance torture.”
“Right. Okay then. I’ll just see you tonight. No worries, Lola.” She zipped her lips and turned an imaginary key. “I got your back.”
It wasn’t my back I was worried about at the moment. It was my nude self.
Chapter Fourteen
An hour later I was in Victoria’s torture chamber learning new routines and outrageously seductive moves. The other dancers still hadn’t completely warmed up to me but Jennifer’s death had brought us closer to breaking the ice. They were all subdued, but had started to correct me on moves I was doing wrong. I took their comments with a thank you.
Arriving early to the next game would hopefully let me check out the facilities and snoop, but right now I had other plans. Selma and I gave each other a pointed, silent look. We’d be seeing each other shortly. A lot of each other.
I pulled into Camacho’s parking lot at six forty-five. Lucy was leaning against her car, her wraparound pants traded in for an aqua tank sundress with a white Egyptian wall-painting design, a fish prominently positioned front and center. I tried to tap into my supernatural powers to see if she had anything on underneath, but X-ray vision wasn’t one of my talents, either.
I spotted Selma slouched in her car, her finger tracing her lips. I waved to Lucy and walked over to Selma, knocking on the driver’s side window. She jumped, zipping the window down with a jittery hand.
“You got here quickly. Ready to go?” I asked.
“Ready.” Her low voice shook.
“Relax, Selma. I’m going to talk to people, ask questions, see if we can find anything out. It’ll be fine.”
She tapped her fingernails against her teeth.
“I’m bringing a colleague. We’ll follow you in my car,” I said.
Selma rolled up the window and waited while Lucy got into my car. Then, in a caravan of two, we headed out of Sacramento. Twenty minutes later, we were in an unincorporated country area, heading toward Cuerpo y Alma, the clothing-optional resort.
Lucy stared out the window at the passing ponds and fields, horses and cows dotting the landscape. “Jeez, this place is really in the middle of Nowheresville.”
“Yep.” I eyed her, still trying to figure out if she had on a swimsuit. “So are you really going to go naked?”
She grinned, pulling her platinum hair up into a claw clip. “Totally.”
“What did you tell Zac?”
&
nbsp; Her grin faded. “I told him I was going out with you for some girl time.”
Oh boy. Zac was no fool. He’d see right through that and know we were up to something. “Lucy…”
“Relax. It’ll be fine.”
I turned right, following close behind Selma. “Are you going to tell him later? After my case is solved?”
She turned in her seat. “Lola, I’m my own person. Zac doesn’t tell me what to do or what to feel. He knows I love him. He has to trust me and love me for myself. Whether or not I’m willing to go naked at a resort. But don’t worry. I won’t blow your case.”
“If he knew, would he be jealous? You know, because other men would be gawking at you?” It’s what I worried about with Jack.
She hesitated, but then said, “A little healthy jealousy never hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” I said, frowning. “Jealousy is what got him thinking you were having an affair with one of your clients.”
“Right. But we’re much happier now.”
Selma’s car turned onto a private lane and I pulled in after her. It was a warm evening. Sacramento just couldn’t seem to let go of summer. Anywhere else, October meant cooler weather, which would mean fewer naturists stomping around, exposing themselves to the elements. Which would have been a good thing, in theory. But it was still a smoldering ninety degrees, and I thought that probably meant plenty of people would be milling around in their birthday suits. Which meant maybe I’d find out something about Jennifer.
Selma parked in the visitors’ lot and I slipped my car in next to hers. I’d put on a sundress after dance practice and smoothed it down over my legs, adjusting the hem around my knees.
Lucy tucked her purse under the front seat of the car and I did the same, locking up and clutching my keys and three twenty dollar bills in one hand.
Selma stepped out of her car. She had on an oversize white T-shirt, her bare legs sticking out from underneath. My gut clenched as she leaned in to grab some towels from the backseat of her car and the T-shirt slid up to reveal bare skin.
A la chingada. This was real.
She handed Lucy and me towels. “I keep a bunch in the back so I always have a clean one. You have to have a towel to sit on.”
Lucy outstretched her hand. “Lucy. Nice to meet you, Selma. I hope it’s okay with you that I tag along.”
Selma shrugged. “It’s your body. I think it’s great that you embrace it.”
“Right,” Lucy said. “It’s great.” There was that smidgeon of hesitation again, but she added, “In all its stretchmarked glory.”
We followed Selma up the short flight of deck stairs and entered the office. One woman and one man stood behind a counter. Neither of them seemed very glad to be there. Or maybe it was the fact that they were both clothed that had them looking morose. I heaved a sigh, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. I, for one, was relieved at their clothing, even if they weren’t.
The woman greeted us, then Selma gestured to Lucy and me. “Tiffany, these are some friends of mine. They’re coming in with me tonight.”
“Welcome.” The woman, Tiffany, greeted us. She pulled out two four-by-six index cards. “Your first time?” We nodded, and she continued. “Wonderful. This way, ladies. I just need to go over the rules.”
We followed her through the office, past racks of brochures, dietary supplements, sunscreen, sunglasses, and flip-flops, and out onto an indoor balcony that overlooked a large dance floor. A disco ball hung down from the center of the room, strands of lights draped to the edges of the ceiling.
My gaze extended beyond the disco ball and out through the panoramic windows. The view was breathtaking. A lake was off to the right. Evergreens skimmed the blue sky. And to the left…Oh my. My eyes bugged. A wave of naked bodies moved over the grass. A group of people played volleyball in a sand pit, body parts flinging this way and that.
¡Dios mío! I could feel the nightmares coming on.
I whipped my head around to face the wall in the clubhouse room and my eyelids opened even wider. The wall was covered with framed pictures of naked people. I turned away but flesh and naked bodies danced behind my eyelids, the images burned into my brain.
Tiffany’s voice brought my attention back to her and her safely clothed body. I had the feeling I’d seen her before, but if I had, I couldn’t place her. Working at Abuelita’s, and now seeing all the Royals fans, meant I was in contact with a lot of people. “I just need your names, addresses, and the twenty-six dollar day-use fee.”
After I paid for Lucy and me, Tiffany clasped her hands. “The expectation is that when you’re on the grounds, you are nude.”
“I thought we could take our time.” Or had Selma been leading me on? Mentirosa. She was a good liar.
Lucy wasn’t fazed, though. “Great,” she said, suddenly enthusiastic beyond reason. She rubbed her hands together like she couldn’t wait to strip down to her birthday suit. What happened to the little sliver of doubt she’d had earlier? Was this a midlife crisis for her? Again? But she was a young mom, nowhere near middle age, so that wasn’t it. Híjole. She was an earth mother type with her blond hair woven into two braids, a leather strap necklace, and her Birkenstocks—always her shoe of choice. Maybe she’d fit in here.
“Okay,” I murmured.
“Is this your first time at a naturist resort?”
I smirked. “Does it show?”
She laughed. “Uh, yeah.”
I perched on the edge of the bar stool at the café table. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Selma craned her head to look out the windows at the people, searching for Parker, no doubt, but Lucy was just enjoying the scenery.
“What’s the difference between a naturist and a nudist?”
“No difference,” she said. “We prefer to use the term ‘naturist’ because women tend to be more receptive to the concept if the word ‘nude’ is removed from the equation. Our philosophy is that we are more accepting of our natural state of existence, uninhibited by the clothing that society restricts us with. We are body and soul, together, intertwined, inseparable.”
Sounded like psychobabble to me. “How do men and women deal with each other when they’re naked? I mean, what about”—I leaned in—“sex?”
Tiffany smiled indulgently. “Being nude here isn’t about sex. In fact, believe it or not, there is probably less sexuality between people here than at a bar off the grounds.”
No orgies? No hedonism? I couldn’t fathom how that was possible. How could it not be sexual?
“I can see you’re not sure, Ms…?”
“Cruz.”
“Look at it this way. When kids run around the house after a bath, it’s not sexual. It’s fun. Think of this place as Disneyland for adults. It’s like being a kid again. When you grow up this way, it’s completely normal.” She gestured to her shorts and T-shirt. “Wearing clothes is not.”
I’d rather just go visit Mickey Mouse.
Lucy and I filled out the cards. Selma excused herself to the restroom and I seized the moment.
“Tiffany,” I said. “A woman Selma knows, Jennifer. She came here a lot and she just died…”
Tiffany’s demeanor changed instantly. The faint smile she’d held dropped into a sad frown and her eyes glazed. “I-I’ve known Jennifer forever,” she choked out. “None of us can believe she’s dead. Hit us all really hard.”
“I can imagine.” I paused, hating to intrude on her grief. Finally, I went on. “Selma said she had a boyfriend here?”
Tiffany gathered the cards, her hands shaking slightly. “If she did, she never told me.”
Damn. So much for this being easy. “How many people come to Cuerpo y Alma?”
She moved back toward the office. “We have more than twe
lve hundred distinct people through here annually.”
¡Ay, caramba! That was a lot of nudists. “And they all check in like we did?”
Tiffany bristled underneath her oversize T-shirt and baggie shorts. “Why are you so curious, Ms. Cruz?”
I laughed, fluttering my hand. “Just nervous, I guess. I knew Jennifer. She loved it here. That’s why I wanted to try it, you know? And I’m not sure if her boyfriend here knows about her death.”
She considered me and finally said, “People come here confidentially.”
Hmmm. Wish I’d thought to use an alias. Just in case.
I thanked her as Selma came back.
“I’ll show them around,” Selma said. I followed her gaze to the wall clock. It was 7:20.
“So, about the clothes?” I asked Tiffany, praying she’d take pity on me and bend the rules a bit.
“You can take a few minutes before you disrobe, but absolutely no clothing is allowed in the pool areas.”
So Selma hadn’t misled me. Phew. I turned to wave and Tiffany leveled her gaze at me. “Absolutely none.”
I whipped my head around and frowned at Selma. I’d put my bikini on under my sundress, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be overly strict. “No clothes in the hot tub? Not even a bathing suit? No flexibility?”
“It’s a nudist resort,” Selma said, leading us down the staircase outside. “Since you agreed to come, I assumed you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
She’d assumed wrong. Once again Jack’s voice echoed in my head. How far are you willing to go for your job, Cruz?
Chapter Fifteen
Selma strode toward the hot tub, peeling off her T-shirt along the way. I gaped at the sight of so much bare skin, sucking in my breath. I turned my back on her, my mouth hanging open, stunned speechless—and saw Lucy slipping one arm through the hole of her sundress. Out popped one breast, free and surprisingly perky considering the three babies who’d suckled it.
