Gregson long ago stopped being self-conscious about his body, in fact, he embraced male-body positivity. He stripped down to his camouflage swimming trunks when Domino walked in completely topless.

“Dad said that you’re going to that clinic.”

“Yes.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a private investigator, which means that I work for myself.”

“Oh, I thought you were retired.”

“One never retires in my line of work; rather, the mysteries don’t get solved and it’s really bad when you can’t figure them out on the TV.”

“So, do you want some company? I assume your investigating?

“Yes; I’m convinced the governor found a way to control the President of the United States. He visited last month for some orange tanning treatments and electric hair stimulation. When they revitalized his roots, I’m convinced they inserted a chip.”

“Oh, that would explain his misogyny.”

“I don’t know…”

“What don’t you know?”

“Just that voodoo confuses the mind and muddles the senses. Where’s your swimsuit?”

“I’m wearing it, silly. We’re in international waters now—all the women go topless.”

“I’ve been vacationing in the wrong spots.”

“Just don’t look at them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In the clear Caribbean water, Gregson could see for miles. Sharks were tearing a seal to pieces beyond the coral reef. Domino swam along a volcanic ridge where a hot spot forced lava through molten pores like pimples bursting with heat. The water was much warmer here, closer to the island.

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