Being third meant she didn't have to go first. She waited, pounding the words through her head, then running the soothing smoothness of the bridge across the bruises they left. She'd refused wardrobe's attempt to dress her as a rapper. She wanted to stay Marilyn, at the last second she snatched a hat from a tech.

"I'll give it back, promise."

He shrugged and she walked to her spot to wait the signal to go.

Charisse, who told Marilyn at dinner she was half Lakota, ...