A handsome white man with close-cropped brown hair stepped up to the microphone as the song playing on the Gramophone ended. He raised his hand and the crowd quieted.

aThank you, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Cotton Club!a The room filled with polite applause. aThis next act is one thata"and I am not exaggeratinga"will change your life. You havenat heard jazz until youave heard these cats. Without further ado, I give you Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra!a A young black singer with a trimmed beard took the mike as a mustachioed black man with slicked-back hair stood up in front of the orchestra, baton in hand. Then the members of the orchestra raised their instruments and a burst of music came forth.

It made Vera want to dance, to sway her hips in time with the luxurious rhythms, the timpani and the ba.s.s and the trumpet, the trill of the flute and the sharp, piercing notes of the clarinet. The singer jumped in from time to time with nonsense words that managed to sound cool and jubilant at the same moment.

Vera swelled with pride when Evan stepped away from the group to play a trumpet solo. He looked good up therea"the spotlight making him as shiny and bright as any jewel in the audience. The pa.s.sion that filled his facea"no, his entire bodya"as he played was remarkable.

This was music as shead never heard it before. This was what jazz was all about. In the old days, musicians marched to the beat of the same boring old drummer, but no morea"these days, every performance of a song was different. Modern songs practically burst at the seams with improvised solos and ad-libbed singing and all the energy and life of being young. There was something mad and wonderful happening to music here in New York City; no one would ever think the same way about it again.

aYou can see just as well from over here,a a manas gravelly voice called from a row of wooden chairs near the back wall. aNo reason a pretty dame like yourself should have to stand all night.a Despite his raspy voice, the man barely looked older than Evan. He lifted a silver bucket next to his seat and spat a brown streak of liquid into it. aTobacco always helps to settle my nerves before I go onstage.a She took in his tuxedo. aIs your act coming up soon?a The man chuckled. aMy act is actually up there right now. I got food poisonina last night. Redman convinced Fletcher to be a pal and let me skip the first set so I can rest up a bit.a aOh, you must be Pops! Iam Vera!a she said, then rushed to add, aEvanas told me all about you.a He reached out to take her hand. aFolks sometimes call me Dippermouth, due to my horrible habits. But Iad be honored if you, Vera, would call me Louis.a According to Evan, Louis Armstrong was the best horn player head ever met. Fletcher Henderson had worked hard to recruit him out of Chicago.

Louis pointed at her. aEvanas told me a lot about you. Youare a Chicago native, too, ainat that right?a She nodded. aBorn and raised.a aI miss Chicago. With all due respect to Fletcher, Chi-town is where the real happening is. Theyave got King Oliver, the Wolverines, and the great Jelly Roll Morton.a aYeah, Morton is my brother Jeromeas hero,a Vera said wistfully.

aYouare not talking about Jerome Johnson?a Louis asked.

aI am. Have you seen him?a she asked, hoping he had a lead.

aI saw him play once at the Green Mill. If anyone were going to give Jelly a run for his money, it would definitely be that kid. Heas got music in every inch of his fingers.a aI, uh, havenat seen him in a while,a Vera said.

aJerome Johnson?a called a chorus girl in an elaborate headdress from a few feet away. aBoy came in here a couple of weeks ago looking for a job. Weave already got a pianist, so we all recommended he try Connieas. I heard their player quit to look for something more steady.a Connieas Inn. That was one place Vera hadnat looked yet. aOh, thank you!a she said. aAny chance a singer named Gloria Rose was with him when he stopped by? Pretty white girl with red hair?a The chorus girlas eyes widened. aA white girl? No, it was just Jerome. Owney would never let a white singer audition. He wants his chocolate on the stage and his milk in the audience.a Glad to have another lead, Vera went back to listening to the music. She heard another trumpet solo, then said goodbye to Louis, rose from her seat, and went back to the wings to get a better look at the band.

After Evanas second solo ended, her eyes strayed to the audience. Smiling face after smiling face, all beaming at Evan and the band. And then she saw a familiar bobbed red head at the front of the crowd: Gloria.

She still looked a bit thin, but much more put together than she had at the post office a week earlier. She was decked out in a breathtaking gold dress that fell in layers of fringe over her body. She looked almost happy.

This was it: Veraas chance to save her brother.

Without a second thought, Vera dashed from the wings and onto the stage. A part of her noticed how every eye in the club turned toward her, but she couldnat stop now. aGloria!a she shouted.

Gloriaas green eyes widened with pure and total shock. But instead of running toward Vera, she darted the other way, into the crowd.

Ever the professional, Fletcher continued to conduct his orchestra without missing a beat.

Vera leaped from the stage and somehow managed to land on her feet, despite the crowd and her heels.

She tried to follow Gloria through the swarms of complaining white people, but she quickly lost sight of the girl. aGloria!a she yelled again. aCome back!a Before Vera could call Gloriaas name a third time, two muscular white men grabbed her arms and dragged her toward a side exit. aYou are in the wrong place to be lookina like you do,a one of them said.

aIf you know whatas good for you, girlie, you wonat set foot in this place ever again. We wonat be anywhere near as polite next time,a the other bouncer said as he pushed her out the door and slammed it in her face.

Thwarted. Again.

Why had Gloria fled instead of waiting to meet up with her? Vera was here in New York to save her, not to hurt her.

Vera walked out of the alley and stared at the club. She considered waiting out front for Gloria to emerge, but then one of the bouncers stepped outside and stood on the sidewalk with his arms crossed.

So she walked away, defeated. She would explain to Evan later. She just hoped she hadnat cost him his job. And she hadnat even seen Ethel Waters perform.

So far her time in New York had been one failure after another. But how many chances would she get? If she didnat find her brother soon, Carlitoa"or the killera"most certainly would.

GLORIA.

Gloria didnat want to make a scene.

But she was desperate to get away from Vera.

She shoved through the crowd on the dance floor and into the dining area, trying to avoid taking down one of the artificial palm trees that contributed to the clubas ajunglea dcor.

It was only after she had slipped inside the door to the kitchen that she remembered to breathe.

What if the gangsters who ran the Cotton Club noticed her? What if they had one of those LOST GIRL flyers hung up in their back office? How many redheads turned up in these jazz clubs? Who knew how far Carlitoas influence reached?

In the kitchen, some servers called orders through a pa.s.s-through window while others fed dirty dishes through another. Others stood at metal tables arranging plates and gla.s.ses on serving trays before sweeping through the double doors and back into the bustle of the club proper.

aUh, maaam, I donat think youare supposed to be back here,a a sweet-looking black man said quietly. Three other black men in serversa tails looked up from the metal prep table, and one rushed over: Jerome.

He tapped the man on the shoulder. aItas all right, boys, Robbiea"Gloriaas here with me. She took in the show from the floor while I watched from back here.a His grin faded as he registered Gloriaas distressed expression.

aYou should explain things better, Jerome. Before you get us all into trouble,a Robbie said. aNow, if youall excuse me aa He lifted his tray high and exited through the double doors.

aJerome, youall never guess whoasa"a Gloria started, but he shushed her.

aThis ainat the place for idle chatter, Gloria. People are working here. Come on.a Without touching her, Jerome led her into a corner, as far as they could get from the bustling workers.

Since the Harlem nightclub was segregated, theyad split up and come in through different entrances. Gloria had dressed up and sweet-talked her way through the front door; Jerome had put on an old suit of tails and joined his friend Robbieas waitstaff at the back.

Gloria had been surprised when Jerome had proposed making a visit to the Cotton Club. aItas Ethel Watersas debut there. If youare going to sing jazz in New York City,a head said, athen you need to see the hottest acts. And Ethel is one of the best.a Gloria had never heard so many top-quality musicians playing together. It made her all the more thankful to be here, in New York, following her dream.

Jerome put a calming hand on her arm. aWhatas wrong, Glo? You look like youave seen a ghost.a aNo, not a ghosta"your sister. Sheas here.a Jerome gaped. He didnat talk about Vera much, but Gloria knew he missed his little sister. aWhere?a aOnstage,a Gloria said. aI have no idea why. I got scared and ran and I think she came after me.a Jerome glanced over at Robbie, whoad just returned from the bar. aIs there a way to get backstage without going through the bar?a Robbie laughed and pointed to a door on the far wall. aCourse there is. How do you think we get the hooch to the band?a Jerome led Gloria through the door. They rushed down a grimy hallway and suddenly found themselves backstage.

For a moment, Gloria let herself take everything in: the men and women busying themselves with their costumes and instruments, pitchers of water and gla.s.ses of gin and whiskey strewn everywhere, cables and wires and lights and curtains and ropes, the hardwood floora"everything about it was beautiful. Dirty, sure, and sort of cluttered, but glorious nonetheless.

This was where music was being made. Where stars were being born.

A young black man with wavy hair and a big jaw immediately approached them. Jerome laughed and swept up the man in a hug. aJimmy Roadsa"how are you?a aGood, good, and great. Laverne and Juicy let me know you stopped by a few weeks agoa"why didnat you tell me you were in town?a Jimmy took in Jeromeas outfit and whistled. aA master like you certainly doesnat need to stoop to a waiter job.a aNaw, this is just for tonight,a Jerome replied. aWanted to see Ethel perform. Gloria, this is Jimmya"we used to play together at the Checkered Lounge before I ended up at the Green Mill.a Gloria smiled, but she was distracted, looking for Vera. aItas nice to meet you, Jimmy. It doesnat look like sheas still here, Jerome.a Jimmy whistled low again and said, aYou mean that black girl who threw herself into the audience? She was standing right where youare standing now, and then she just hopped off the stage like a crazy bearcat.a aThat was my sister,a Jerome said.

aWell, your sister got thrown out.a ad.a.m.n,a Jerome said. He turned and glanced at the stage. aBut look!a he said, motioning to Gloria. aIsnat that Evan?a Gloria put her hand to her chest as she recognized Evan in the trumpet section. She was surprised she hadnat noticed him before. He was the only member of the band at the Green Mill whoad worked to make her feel welcome. At least until the band found out about her true ident.i.ty. Then he hadnat been so friendly.

Evan looked over and saw Jerome. Gloria expected him to do something crazya"wasnat he shocked they were there?a"but all Evan did was nod.

Gloria and Jerome stepped back into the chaos of musicians milling around backstage. aDidnat it look like he expected to see you?a Gloria asked Jerome.

aYeah. But heas playinga"thereas not much he can tell us until his set is over.a Jerome chuckled. aOnly a girl like Vera would be dumb enougha"and brave enougha"to do what she did. Interrupt a show! Leap into the all-white audience!a Gloria frowned. What were Vera and Evan doing here? If it had been Evan alone, she might have understooda"plenty of musicians moved from Chicago to New York. But there was nothing to bring Vera here. Nothing except Jerome. But why now? And how had Vera and Evan even known where to find them? It was a strict rule between Gloria and Jerome: They didnat let anyone know where they were. But it seemed Jerome had told Vera and Evan all about what he and Gloria had been up to.

A mustachioed white man puffing a cigar came through the door. aThis ainat a farmyard. Weave got an audience trying to hear the music out there, so all of you shut up.a The clump of musicians and chorus girls stopped talking and moved back toward the chairs against the backstage wall, leaving Jerome and Gloria standing alone. The man took a long look at Jerome, scratching his chin. Then he pointed. aHey, I know you! Youare that punk piano player that Carlito Macharelli is looking for.a The man stepped forward and tried to catch Jeromeas collar. But suddenly Jimmy and a slew of other musicians came between them. aGo,a Jimmy whispered to Gloria and Jerome, aget outta here. Now.a Jerome grabbed Gloriaas hand and pulled her across the backstage area and out a door that opened onto an alleywaya"into the darkness, into the night.

The subway ride home wasnat long at all, but to Gloria it felt like hours.

Jerome sat a seat away from her and said nothing. She glanced over at him a few times but eventually stared at the floor in angry silence. It wasnat her fault that Vera was in New York and that theyad possibly missed their only chance to talk to her.

But they couldnat have hung around. Any mobsters who laid eyes on them wouldave sent them right to Carlito.

The silence continued as they walked home. At Park Avenue, Jerome turned the corner on his own, while Gloria had to go through with the usual charade. She went to the bas.e.m.e.nt and shuffled through the boiler room, pulling the stifling coat over her beautiful dress.

The last time shead worn this dress, shead been planning to run away with the love of her life to New York. Now she was wearing it while sneaking through a broken fence just to get into her tiny, third-rate apartment. How quickly life can change, she thought. How easily the dreams of a starry-eyed girl can turn into a murky sort of reality.

She climbed up the back stairway of their building and banged on the door to their apartment.

Jerome opened it quickly, his black jacket already off and his bow tie loosened. aYou want to try to be a little louder? I donat think the entire building heard you hammering.a Gloria slipped off her monstrosity of a coat and flung her hat on one of the kitchen chairs. aDonat you lecture me,a she said, taking off her earrings. aI wasnat the one who suggested we go to a club full of Carlitoas cronies.a aI didnat know the gangsters at the Cotton Club were friends with Carlito.a aHeas Ernesto Macharellias sona"every gangster is afriendsa with him somehow,a Gloria replied.

aOh, Iam sorry, I forgot you were the expert on the Mob. Miss Zuleika Rose!a Jerome called out, his forehead creasing with angry lines. aGangster Know-It-All! Wheread you find that out about Carlitoas father, anywaya"one of your society columns?a aWho cares where I got my information?a Gloria said. Reading the society columns was exactly how shead learned all she knew about Ernesto Macharellia"but she wasnat going to give Jerome the satisfaction of being right. aAt least I actually read the papers instead of sulking all day.a His nostrils flared. aYou think I sit here sulking? You know Iam lying low when Iam not looking for work.a aRight. Iave learned a thing or two about lying low these past six months. Iave climbed through that ridiculous fence every day while you just waltz right through the front door.a aOh, youare going to preach to me about the places I can go and you canat?a Jerome asked, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it on the floor.

aIam not talking about a nightclub or the movies, Jerome,a she replied, stepping out of her heels. aThis is our apartment. Our home.a She clenched her fists, trying to keep her anger in check, but it wasnat really working. aIave given up everything for you! And now I find out that youave been telling your sister and your band and G.o.d knows who else about what weave been doing, putting us both in danger.a aI didnata"a aDonat you think I wouldave liked to write my mother or father or my friends to let them know Iam alive? But no! You said I couldnat!a aBut youave got it all wrong,a he said.

Gloria wasnat listening. She looked at their shabby surroundings in disgust. aYou already have all your friends here. All I have is you, and this dingy apartment.a She banged a fist on the piano, and there was a muddy jangle. aIf Iad known you were telling everything to your old band buddies behind my back, I wouldave at least sent my mother a letter. Or sent Clara a postcard.a Clara. Just saying her name made Gloria feel guilty about ignoring her cousin, who had been so kind to her those last days in Chicago.

Gloria stopped, out of breath, willing herself to calm down. But then she looked up at Jeromea"handsome, strong-willed Jeromea"and everything, the anger and the frustration and the sadness, came rushing out in a torrent: She complained about the stealing, the constant rejection at auditions, the endless ch.o.r.es she performed to take care of their atrociously tiny home. After so many months of grinning and bearing this sad excuse for a life, she let all her frustration out. She couldnat stop herself. At last she lowered her voice, her throat scratchy and raw. aI killed a man for you, Jerome.a She wiped tears from her cheeks. aThatas supposed to mean no secrets between us. Donat you get it?a Jeromeas eyes were wet and glistening. aFor your information, Gloria, I have not been in contact with Vera or my band. I sent Vera a postcard when we first got here so she would have our post office box number in case of an emergency, but thatas it. I was as surprised as you were tonighta"Iave got no idea what she and Evan are doing here.a He cast his gaze around their squalid little home, finally letting his eyes rest on the scarred wooden floor. aAs for the other stuff, well, I thought you did all those thingsa"leaving home, sneaking into our apartment every daya"because a you wanted to.a Then he lifted his head and pierced her with cold, dark eyes. It was strange, Gloria thought, how the same eyes she looked into so lovingly could at times be so hurtful.

aI didnat know you thought you were making some high-and-mighty sacrifice for me,a Jerome said. aI donat need your charity, all right? I donat need your accusations. You think I love this life any more than you do?a Gloria blinked. aOf course I know you donat love it, buta"a aBut what? You think the poor black boy likes this because heas used to it?a She paled, suddenly lost for words. aNo, Jerome, thatas not what Ia"a He put his hand up to stop her. aSave it. You are not the only one who had to leave Chicago. You are not the only person all of this happened to. Iave been fighting my whole life for what I want. You do it for a few months and think you deserve some kind of medal.a He didnat look angry anymore, just hurt. aI thought us being together made all this worth it. I guess you donat feel the same way.a He stalked into the bedroom.

Gloria sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, breathing hard.

Jerome was righta"he had spent his life fighting. Head fought his fatheras disapproval of his career choice, fought to stay alive among the gangsters who ran the clubs. Fought through the grief at the death of his mothera"the person whoad taught him to play piano in the first place. Fought discrimination every single day of his life from the people who thought they knew what he was because of the color of his skin.

Gloria had never gone through anything remotely like that.

She looked up in surprise as Jerome walked back into the kitchen. Head changed into a blue shirt and gray trousers. He wore a newsboy cap and held his beat-up briefcase in one hand. In the other hand, he had a small velvet box.

He held the black box out to Gloria. aHere. Maybe you can p.a.w.n this for some money.a Gloria stood still and stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. aWhat a?a aItas your engagement ring,a Jerome said. aI bought it with the advance from the Opera House. Thatas why I wanted to see Ethel Waters at the Cotton Club. They want to have the same sort of thing at the Opera House and they want me to accompany you.a He walked over to the piano and set the velvet box on top.

He straightened his cap and picked up his briefcase. aIall see you at rehearsal. Take some time to think about what you really want, and then weall decide what to do.a He opened the door and walked out, leaving her alone.

After a few shocked moments, she went over to the piano and picked up the small box. She opened it and stared at the simple ring inside: an unadorned gold band with a tiny diamond.

Shead given his name to Spark only a few days before, with express instructions not to let Jerome know that she had gotten him the job. What sacrifices had Jerome made so that she could have this beautiful ring?

She was tempted to slip it on, to see what it would look like on her finger, against her skin. It was the moment shead been waiting for, uncertain it would ever even happen.

Yet here was the ring.

And Jerome was gone.

LORRAINE.

aI think that spot is clean, Raine,a Spark said with a smirk.

Lorraine looked up from the bar, startled, and put down the rag. Shead been staring at Hankas backside and wiping down the bar for a good five minutes. aIt is now.a The last couple of the evening had left an hour earliera"a tired-looking flapper on the arm of an overweight but rich-looking man, stray feathers from the girlas headdress falling in her wake.

Lorraine had stayed to help Hank close the club. She wiped down the bar while he washed and stacked the nightas gla.s.ses, hosed down and scrubbed the rubber floor mats, and helped the busboys mop the barroom floor. Hank was new, after all, and had never closed before. He might not know what to do and might need to ask Lorraine a question.

And from this vantage point, Lorraine had an excellent view of Hankas sculpted muscles tensing as he pushed the mop. There wasnat an ounce of flab anywhere on the man. Head stripped off the blazer head been wearing, and now he was working in a white shirt and suspendered trousers. Hot sauce! Lorraine felt like making a mess more often just so she could watch him clean it up.

She tore her eyes away to glare at Spark. aGo do something useful.a Spark pointed at Hank and said, aListen, I can finish up here. Why donat you go enjoy the rest of the morning with the big six over there?a Lorraine was suspicious. Spark had never done anything genuinely nice for her. aAre you sure?a aGo ona"I just had a cup of coffee so Iall be awake for a while yet. You look about ready for bed. Maybe Hank can help you out with that.a Spark winked clumsily. aGet it?a aSpark, you are an absolute toad,a Lorraine said, but then caught herself smiling.

aBoys!a Spark called to the men, who were wringing out the mops and setting them back in the buckets. aFloor looks good, you can all call it a night!a A few of the men shouted out goodbyes and walked to the storage room to get their things. Lorraine was delighted when Hank hung back from the others.

aHi, Lorraine,a he said. His dark hair had been fixed with pomade at the start of the night, but now it was disordered in the s.e.xiest possible way. A bead of sweat rolled down his golden neck and under his collar, making Lorraine want to rip the shirt right off him.

aWill you be here awhile yet?a he asked.

aActually, Iam all done. I just have to get my purse from the office.a aGreat!a Hank replied. aIall grab my hat and meet you out front.a Lorraine nodded mutely. It made sense that she and Hank would walk home together, considering they lived in the same building. But he wouldnat have looked so happy about it unless he was interested in her, too, right?

In the office, she checked her reflection in the mirror over the desk. She wiped her smudged eye makeup until the smudges looked sort of intentional. At least her dress still looked amazing. Hankas sudden entrance into her life had inspired several purchases of some of Parisas latest fashions. This dress had sweet little b.u.t.terfly sleeves and was made of sheer silk velvet with a floral pattern. A cloth belt was cinched with a rhinestone buckle at the back. She freshened her lipsticka"a delicate pink to match her ensemble.

Why wouldnat he be interested in her? She was the catas pajamas! Nay, the catas negligee!

Hank looked around at the empty streets and darkened windows as they walked. aThis is one of the things I officially love about New York. Youare free to roam the sidewalks at any time of day or night. Back in Los Angeles, I had to take the trolley whenever I wanted to go somewhere.a Lorraine winced as her heels chafed her feet. A trolley sounded pretty good to her right about now.

He casually slung an arm over her shoulders. aNice, eh? No one else around, no cars or wagons rolling bya"itas like the city belongs to us alone.a Between his arm around her and his use of the word us, Lorraine was having trouble not shouting aI love you, too!a into the night air.

She looked up at the sky. The sun wouldnat come up for another hour or two, but it wasnat pitch-black outa"the dark was a deep purple. Aside from their footsteps on the pavement, the street was silent. When she walked home alone, the early morning had always seemed desperately lonely. But with Hank along, this early-morning twilight time seemed exhilarating and full of possibility, as if they could do whatever they wanted and no one would be around to stop them.

aIt is kind of nice,a she replied at last.

When they reached a subway station on Broadway, Hank stopped. aIam not tired,a he proclaimed, a warm smile stretching out across his face. aAre you?a Honestly? It had been a busy night and shead barely had five minutes to rest her aching feet. But Hankas copper-brown eyes were like a stiff shot of coffee. This beautiful man didnat want to waste his morning sleepinga"he wanted to spend it with her.

aIam completely awake,a she replied.

aGood,a he said. aThen I say we go up to Central Park and go out on the lagoon. Afterward, we can get breakfast at this delicatessen my friend Eddie always raves about.a aThe boats will be locked up for the night, Hank.a aPa.s.sion always finds a way,a he said.

Hank was such a risk-taker. How exciting! aYou really think so?a He caught her hand and winked, pulling her down the stairs to the subway platform. aI think you, Miss Dyer, can do anything you put your mind to.a Lorraine stared at the tall chain-link fence around the boathouse and the lagoon. The gate was chained and padlocked. aThis may be a problem.a Lorraine hadnat really loved running through Central Park toward the lagoon in her expensive dress. For one thing, she wasnat the sort of girl who ran. Running was for people who didnat mind sweating. And for another thing, shead had to shuck off her heels and run in her stocking feet, and she didnat even want to imagine what wet things shead stepped in. But after a few minutes of galloping through the soft darkness hand in hand with Hank, she forgot to be bothered. For the first time in months, she was having fun.

Hank shrugged, pulling off his derby and flinging it over the fence. aSee? That doesnat look so hard.a He wound his fingers into the chain-link and began to climb. Once he reached the top, he swung over and landed gracefully on his feet.

He looked at Lorraine through the mesh. aAre you coming?a The moment of truth.

She tossed her purse over. Then she took a deep breath, slipped on her shoesa"no way was she leaving them here; they cost a weekas wagesa"and wedged a toe into the chain-link. Then the other foot, and up a little farther.

This wasnat so bad! It was like climbing the trellis outside her window when she was thirteen and her mother wouldnat let her go see Terrell Spitznagle, even though Lorraine had explained that she was in love with him. Though come to think of it, Terrell was now fat and balding and about as interesting as a clump of moss on a rock, so maybe her mother had been on to something.

aCome on, slowpoke!a Hank called. aIad like to make it onto the water before the sun comes up!a aExcuse me, you are not wearing heels,a she replied through gritted teeth.

aTrue, I left those at home tonight,a Hank said, laughing.

Lorraine had reached the top. It was a delicate maneuver, swinging a leg over a fence in a dress. A boy wore pants, surea"that was easy. But for a girl, there were issues of modesty as well the whole impracticality of rolling a skirt up far beyond the knee.

aUmm,a she said, and dropped her leg over the other side, her weight pulling her over, and then it was too late: The hem of her dress was caught on a loose bit of metal.

aHank!a she yelled, trying not to panic. aI canat get my dress off!a aThe best thing you can do is jump,a he said, looking up at her. aIall catch you.a Ugh. She anch.o.r.ed her feet in the fence, then sprang away and fell. She grimaced at the distinct sound of fabric ripping. Oh no! Her beautiful lilac Lucien Lelong was ruined.