Didi's new boots aren't quite broken in yet, but she'll survive the blisters as long as Bo's ridiculous plan doesn't get them both killed. She tugs at the short, slick hem of the little skirt-if the bare inch below her crotch counts as a skirt-and prays she doesn't have to bend over for anything. At least the plastex sticks to her in ways that keeps it from riding up, the sleek black half-fabric, half-plastic engineered for just this kind of outfit. Though why any self-respecting ...