CHAPTER 2

She points at her ear, fully covered by a Minnesota Vikings stocking cap. I hadn't noticed the thin cord coming out from underneath, ending at her phone. Like me, she's got her ear buds in. This kid obviously listens to her mom's music too.

"It's the 'Get Naked with KIRA' contest," she says. The phrase "get naked" sounds very wrong coming from the mouth of a child.

"Uh, yeah, and I've got less than a minute before it goes to the next person they draw."

"You married?"

"Huh? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Tick, tock, tick, tock."

Good lord! She's got to be the most self-assured child I've ever met. "No, I'm not married, not that it's any of your business."

"Living with anyone?"

Inappropriate much? I really don't like her questioning, but she's the one with the phone.

"No," I answer. Not technically anyway.

"Then since it's a trip for two, you're taking me if I let you use my phone."

This has gone from strange to completely absurd. "Sorry, kid, but there's no way I'm taking someone's child with me to a nude beach in Mexico."

"Hey, I'm legal," she says indignantly, pulling down her scarf so I can see the rest of her face. When I look closely, I can see that, incredibly, and despite her diminutive stature and child-like voice, she may be of high school age. There's something else about her face that bugs me, though, like I should know her from somewhere. She's not someone I've ever met before, but I'm almost certain I've seen her face. For the purposes of the conversation I'm having with her, though, that's neither here nor there. The issue is her age. She may be older than I'd first figured, but is she that old?

She shrugs at my momentary indecision and begins to slip the phone into her coat pocket. I watch as my chance at a much-desired break from the winter doldrums begins to slip away. Probably as she intends, I'm forced to go for broke.

"Wait! Okay, I'll take you with me." My girlfriend's not going to like this, but I can deal with that later.

"Promise me," she says simply, her bright, clear eyes boring into mine.

I'm out of time, so I do as she asks. "I promise that as long as you're at least eighteen, I'll take you with me if I go. But only if your parents don't object." I add the last caveat because the last thing I want is to get into a hassle with the parents of a barely legal high school student.

"Fair enough." She whips the phone out of her pocket and pulls the audio cord out of the jack. "Number?" she asks, quickly and efficiently.

She enters it as fast as I can recite it, her thumb a blur. I expect her to hand the phone to me, but instead she holds it to her own ear. I'm close enough to her that I recognize the distinctive tones of KIRA's "Roger in the Morning," though I can't quite make out his words.

"Hi, I've got Peter Malakhov here with me," she says, evidently remembering my name from his announcement of it on the air. Wow, she really was listening! I also note that her voice, while still rather high pitched, suddenly sounds almost sultry and sexy. How did she manage that? I revise my estimate of her age upward again.

"Hi, I've got Peter Malakhov here with me," I hear from my right earbud, almost exactly seven seconds after she's said it into the phone. I belatedly remember that they've got a delay so they can use the dump button if someone uses a bad word. She's on the air with Roger now. I mute my player.

"Who am I?" she says, obviously repeating a question from the other end of the phone connection. "Well, I'm Kira of course." She gives me a conspiratorial wink. Cute. I hear a wispy burst of laughter from Roger and his faithful sidekick, Alice.

She listens for a little while longer, then looks me up and down rather thoroughly before she says, "Well, Peter's six foot eleven..." A pause. "Yes, I said six foot eleven. He's thirty years old and weighs about two-seventy. He's got super thick, dark, curly hair, a really low, deep voice, a tough-guy beard, and he's built like a very tall Greek god. Oh, and his butt looks really cute in the black running tights he's wearing at the moment."

I'm not sure about the "Greek god" or "cute butt" parts (and she's made me two years older than I actually am) but the rest is amazingly accurate.

"What does he look like naked?" she repeats. I hope that question came from Alice, not Roger. "Well, a girl doesn't kiss and tell." She winks at me again. Another long moment. "Okay, here he is." She hands me her phone.

"Hello?" I manage.

"Hello, Peter Malakhov," Roger says.

I psych myself up to do a persona that I calculate is appropriate for the situation. "Hey Roger. Am I going to 'get naked with KIRA'?"

"Sounds like you already have," Alice quips. She and Roger belly laugh, almost convincingly. Then, before I even have the chance to ruin the moment for the radio audience by clarifying my relationship with the young lady, Roger jumps in.

"So what does Kira look like," he asks.

I decide that saying she looks like a nine-year-old girl might be somewhat problematic, so I describe my actual girlfriend instead.