She wore a sequined leotard that looked like a disco ball exploded. Her hips swayed to a cumbia beat only she could hear. As she turned, the room seemed to tilt.
(Power doesn't sit—it moves.)
Her competitors whispered it like a curse. "She's just a culona ," they'd sneer, meaning she was too big, too loud, too much backside and bass in her voice. But Valentina heard the word and smiled. She had it tattooed on the inside of her wrist in old-style script: . culona follando de lo mas rico