Chapter 37

Waiting might have been easier than going first. Marilyn didn't notice any maneuvering for order, unless it was punishment for not taking Tiffany's advice. The argument over the song took so much out of Marilyn she didn't argue over wearing the white dress costuming found for her. She wore a gossamer scarf with the dress. The white made her look dead. She forced the makeup people not to overcompensate and make her look like a clown. The tech counted down time before her entry. She could see her interview playing on the screen for the audience. Fake, I sound fake. There's no passion.

"Go," the tech tapped her on the arm.

Marilyn didn't want to look; she was dead anyway. This was going to finish her. She pulled the scarf up over her face. The judges looked at each other in puzzlement, shrugging their shoulders. Tiffany sat back and covered her face.

The music started.

Breathe in, breathe in.

Not sing, but roar.