the sink. Marilyn had tagged after her again.

"Bobbie," she said softly, "I've got to get out of here. This won't work."

Bobbie whirled on her. "You're not going back home? Not after what you said, not now when you've got a chance, Baby?"

"No, not home. What I thought was, if I could borrow a little from you and get my own place-" place—”

"What is this? Your home is here, right here. We settled that. What the Hell's going on?" Then her her face changed. Whiteness and tension flickered across her mouth as they did when she sang. "Is this Jerry? You're not hung up on Jerry." She moved toward Marilyn. "Look, you don't want to get mixed up with him. He's got trouble. And I don't want that for you. Maybe all the rest of my friends lean on the frigging needle, but please not you, baby."

"Bobbie, that's why I've got to go. My folks have probably got the police looking for me right now. And, Jesus, if they found out I was hanging around with an addict-even if they found out about you and me I'm scared, Bobbie. Lend me a little money. Let me get my own place. I'll pay you back. I promise."

"A little money is right." In the harsh light Marilyn saw the muscles

across Bobbie's sharp jaw line tighten. "For Christ's sake wake up to reality, Marilyn. If I hadn't found you, you'd be sleeping under a pier someplace. Yeah, I can pay a week's cheap rent somewhere, but what about next week and the week after. You haven't auditioned any place. How do you know you're gonna get a job-" A cigaret pack lay on the drainboard. Restlessly she poked into it. Empty. She crumpled it hard, and hung on to it. She stared at the dark window, her mouth pressed into a hard, crooked line, her body all broken, rigid angles.

And Marilyn suddenly understood. Bobbie didn't want her to go. It was as simple as that. For the first time in her life here was someone who didn't want Marilyn to go, somebody who really cared about having her around. And she had wanted to throw it away in a moment of panic.

"No!" she shouted, her eyes shining. "No, listen, I'm sorry. I don't want to go, Bobbie. I don't care about Jerry or the cops or anything. I was just scared for a minute, that's all. I'm sorry, Bobbie. Honest. I want to stay."

"Good. Nobody's going to find you here." She stepped right up against Marilyn and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Say, kid, go slip on that Miles Davis record. I'm in the mood for it."

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