chapter three She's afraid of heights, but the best photos come from up high, on the catwalk. She's not alone, stagehands scramble around her. She's staring into the audience. Is she advocating rape by picking out Taylor's girls? No; no charges, no nothing. They want him. She spies one, five rows back. She catches the eye of a security guard. Bright red jacket. She points, makes a gesture with her hands. Backstage again. The lights were beginning to hurt. She studies the girl, black hair in a high ponytail. "How old are you?" "Thirteen." Small breasts, maybe a B? Taylor liked them like that. "Taylor's your favourite, huh?" "Yeah! He's so fine!" "You know he's going to have sex with you, right?" "No way!" The girl's eyes get wider. Boring brown eyes; Taylor likes those. She did a good job. "Yeah, well, have fun, I guess." She laughed to herself. She hated Taylor.

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