“You look lovely, dear,” Consuela purred as she stroked my arm, trying to calm me down.

I was sitting next to her on the couch. Dad was facing us in his wheelchair and Debbie was standing behind him, wringing her hands, a look of deep concern on her face.

“Thank you, Consuela. Obviously, Trent doesn’t think so. That was so embarrassing—”

“Trent called just 5 minutes before Otis brought you back. I disconnected him in mid-sentence. The creep!” Debbie dropped herself on the couch, sandwiching me between her and Consuela.

“He’s not important, Evie,” my father declared. “They want you for the show, regardless of him. You’re going to be the star, not Trent. You’ll see.”

“Dad, Trent’s the lead on the show. He could have me fired even before they start shooting the series. I’ve outlived my usefulness to him. I barely made it past two weeks.”

“That’ll be their loss. Honey, this only emphasizes what we’ve all been trying to tell you all this time. You’re a girl. No, a woman. And you’ve hesitated long enough deciding whether to affirm your correct gender. I say, the hell with Trent Foster and GlobalNet. If they don’t want you, you’ve still got a great future with Sisters Sportswear. You need to just get on with your life…as a woman.”

“You can start by having your gender changed on your birth certificate and driver’s license. Daddy can have you fill out the forms and submit it back in New Jersey,” suggested Consuela.

“It’ll take 2 months to go through. Max.”

“Then you can start the whole process of transitioning. Before you know it, you’ll be in both mind and body what you always should have been from birth,” Consuela said, smiling as she and Debbie threatened to massage the skin off my shoulders.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

“I…I want to think about it some more, Daddy.”

“Oh, come on, Evie. What’s to think about? You’re a girl. You’ve always been a girl! Everyone we ran into over the years thought you were my older sister. Just with terrible fashion sense.”

“Chuck says it might be possible to keep my transition under wraps. At least Trent and the people at GlobalNet don’t suspect anything…yet.”

“You told Chuck?” Debbie stopped massaging me.

“No, he already knew. But he says only he and Mei Ling, our executive assistant, know. I mean, Clark Ruskin, the company president, thinks I’m a girl, for sure. He made a pass at me last week.”

“You didn’t tell me that, Evie! You just have to stop being so sexy. It’s annoying.”

“Debbie, I can’t help it. I’m drawn this way—”

“Debbie, do something useful. Go online and print out those forms I wanted from the New Jersey Department of Health.”

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll shut up.”

“Now that we’ve settled that—”

“Do you think Trent suspects? That’s why he’s seeing other women?”

“Other women? That’s a good one, Evie,” Debbie muttered from behind the screen of her laptop.

“It’s Hollywood, Evie. I'm so proud of you being cast in a TV series—Consuela’s co-workers can’t stop complimenting her on having such a famous stepdaughter—but please, please stay away from these Hollywood actors. They’re…excuse my French…scum! Find yourself a nice fella. A normal fella.”

“Like Chuck,” shouted Debbie as she pulled the forms out of the printer.

“Chuck isn’t interested in me. He likes cis women.” I frowned and placed my head on Consuela’s shoulder.

“There’ll be others who appreciate you and will love you for who you are. When your face is on billboards and magazine covers, Chuck will see the error of his ways.” Consuela kissed my forehead and Daddy patted me on the back.

It was a gloomy, rainy Wednesday morning in Los Angeles as Debbie and I stepped gingerly out of Otis’ van and ran into the lobby of our office building. Javier, one of the security guards, held the door open for us. As we were folding up our umbrellas, he sidled up to me.

“That pendejo Foster did you dirty, Ms. Rivers. You’re too classy for him. Let him have that bimbo, Bambi. His loss.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Javier, but, really, we weren’t dating or anything. I went to the awards with him just for the show’s sake. Newport: The Series. Coming in the Fall!”

In my office, someone had placed the morning edition of The Los Angeles Daily Times on top of my desk, smack dab in the middle. Splashed across the front page were pictures of me running out of Crypto Arena, almost bowling over Taylor Swift coming out of the Ladies’ Room, and tumbling into Otis’ car outside the arena. Alongside these snapshots was one of Trent facing a phalanx of reporters, Bambi Bunson’s arms wrapped around his torso, beaming in apparent victory.

“Looks like Ms. Humpty Dumpty fell off her wall.” It was Mei Ling in the doorway. She snickered and then strutted off, keeping her nose in the air.

I had to restrain myself from leaping out of my chair and tackling her in the hallway. Then my phone rang. It was Juan Moskowitz.

“Good morning, Juan. What’s good?”

“Not much, Evie. We’re being called on the carpet by GlobalNet. Alastair just called and insisted you and I show up at their offices at 11AM. It’s about…what happened last night—”

“Don’t tell me Trent got me fired.”

“No, Evie, he’s been asked to show up too. Michelle Gravesend wants to talk to both of you.”

“That sounds serious.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Anyway, if I leave now and come pick you up, we’ll just about make it in time. It’s raining cats and dogs out there so I’ll pick you up on the run. Stay inside the lobby until I drive by. See ya.”

Michelle Gravesend, the Chief Content Officer for GlobalNet, walked slowly to her desk, picked up the tabloid, and tossed it onto the round table where we were all seated: Juan and me, Trent and his agent Gavin Montrose, Alastair Knowles, Daniel Dantley, and Mary Legler, Chief Legal Officer.

“Alright, kiddies, we have a situation here. Anyone want to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here?”

“Hey, why is everyone mad at me? I can’t control that ditzy dame, Bambi. Jesus Christ, it was a weekend in Cozumel not a honeymoon in Paris—uh, sorry, Alastair, nothing wrong with that, of course.”

“Maybe keep it in your pants for more than five minutes, pal,” sneered Juan, waving his right hand dismissively.

“Hey, can he talk to me like that? Who is he, anyway?”

“Look, everyone, I don’t care about who you fuck or what you fuck. As long as it doesn’t harm the bottom line of this network. And this shitstorm of ugly publicity is going to torpedo the show before we even begin shooting it, no less when it premieres in the Fall.”

“Isn’t there no such thing as bad publicity?” offered Trent’s agent.

“I don’t think our audiences are going to want to turn out in multitudes to watch some punk actor who they’ve witnessed toy with the affections of Miss Polly Purebred here.” I turned to Juan. He shrugged his shoulders. Who the hell is Polly Purebred?

“Well, it’s a fait accompli. What’s to be done about it?” Danny Dantley lamented.

“You, Trent, are going to have to publicly grovel before Evie and admit your sad mistake in cheating on her—”

“Now, come on, Michelle, this is my personal life we’re talking about. And how is this going to look to my fans? I don’t want to be seen as a simp—”

“GlobalNet has a lot of money invested in this project, Trent. If we don’t remedy the situation somehow, how are we to expect the women in our potential audience to believe in the sincerity and basic decency of your character. Especially when you’re playing opposite the woman you scorned rather spectacularly on national television. We might be forced to re-cast your part--”

“You can’t do that! Trent’s got an ironclad contract,” Gavin interjected.

“Mary?” Michelle turned to her for her legal expertise.

“Ahem. And I quote: “The Performer shall not commit any act or do anything which might reasonably be considered: i) to be immoral, deceptive, scandalous or obscene; or ii) to injure, tarnish, damage or otherwise negatively affect the reputation and goodwill associated with GlobalNet or its subsidiaries.” I think you’d be wise to avoid testing that clause, Mr. Foster.”

“Can I say something?” I asked.

“Go right ahead, Evie.”

“Despite how much my feelings may have been hurt by this…this incident, I think we’re being too harsh on Trent. I have to blame myself for being naive enough to fall head over heels for him. I thought we had the beginnings of a real relationship but last night showed me I was stupidly, stupidly wrong. I’ll chalk it up to learning about the ways of Hollywood. Maybe, Trent and I should shake hands and promise to work together without rancor…on either side.”

Trent reached his hand over the table to me but Michelle rolled up the newspaper and swatted it away.

“It ain’t that easy, kids. The only way to clear the decks on this disaster is to make a public rapprochement, something our potential viewers will be able to see or read about.”

“Short of a wedding in Disneyland, what do you propose?” asked Trent.

Alastair spoke up. “Trent, you have a concert at SoFi Stadium this Friday, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Think of a song you can sing to our little ingenue here as a public apology. Something that’ll convince your fans and everyone else that you’re truly remorseful about your scandalous behavior and that Evie is really the girl of your dreams, not Bambi Bunson.”

“I’ve got two days to put an arrangement together. That’s going to be tough—”

“I’d get right on it if I were you. Also, we need to script this like it’s real. So, you’re going to invite your parents, Trent. And, Evie, I want your parents there as well. It’s a bonus that they’re actually in town. Almost like they anticipated this whole scenario.”

“Is this necessary? My parents are going to know it’s a set up. What about Trent’s folks?”

Blushing, Trent slowly drawled, “Well, my mom thinks we’re serious. She’s already planning the wedding for the Fall. It’ll be the highlight of the social calendar in Pacific Palisades if she gets her way. You’d have to convince her we weren’t about to get engaged!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Trent!” exclaimed Michelle. “On the other hand, their reaction to the whole thing on Friday might be real enough to be believed. Good idea, Alastair. You’re clever but evil.”

I turned to Juan. “What just happened? Am I betrothed to Trent?”

“Nah, it’s only make-believe. Like Hollywood itself.”

SoFi Stadium is a new multiple use outdoor arena built to host The Los Angeles Rams NFL team, located in Inglewood in the bosom of southwestern LA. It also hosts Clark Ruskin’s NFL team, The Los Angeles Drillers. However, Ruskin is planning to build his own stadium and is currently looking for a site somewhere near Disneyland in Anaheim. Chuck was able to get Dad and Consuela into the accessible seating area with his connection, of course, to his brother-in-law.

On the insistence of Alastair Knowles and Michelle Gravesend, I had to sit with Trent’s parents in the VIP seats, in clear view of the dozen or so video cameras documenting the concert. Fortunately, there was an opening act that made polite conversation almost impossible for our first 45 minutes in the stadium. Basically, I tried to listen to the music coming from the stage while Trent’s mother kept staring at me with a goofy smile on her face. I assume she was envisioning me as the future vessel of her 2.8 grandchildren. Oh, the humanity!

Unfortunately, the opening act finished its set and there was going to be an interregnum before Trent and his band came on stage. Mrs. Foster turned to me immediately after the final chord of the final encore faded and a tepid ovation died down.

“So your parents only had you and your sister? No brothers? Trent’s father and I wanted a daughter but God didn’t bless us with but only the one son. Isn’t that so, Conrad? Conrad?”

“I think Mr. Foster went to get a beer. If you want something, I can go and—”

“Oh, don’t bother but thank you, dear. You’re so thoughtful…and beautiful. Your children will be so lovely. They’ll have your eyes and cute little nose and Trent’s ears and chin—”

“Mrs. Foster—”

“Please call me Eloise.”

“Eloise. I think you’re assuming Trent and I are, let’s say, farther down the road than—”

“Do you want all boys, all girls, or boys and girls?”

“Eloise!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Trust me. Trent and I have not discussed having children—”

“Oh, he’s putting up a front, Evie. He loves children. This “playboy” image is just a p.r. thing his management thinks will make him seem “cool” to his fans. Believe me, Evie, he’s a one-woman man. I raised him the right way.”

I slumped back down in my seat, defeated. Luckily, Mr. Foster returned from the concession stands at that very moment, a tub of popcorn in one hand and a 20-ounce cup of beer in the other.

“Conrad, why didn’t you ask me or Evie whether we wanted something to drink?”

“I did. Several times. But the music was too loud. I guess you either didn’t hear me or ignored me and didn’t want anything. I’m sorry. I’ll go back and—”

“Never mind, dear. Evie and I can get something later.” She turned to me. “Trent always takes a break in the middle of his set. We’ll get something then, okay?” I nodded and reached into the tub of popcorn in Eloise’s lap to grab a few kernels.

Applause rose from the crowd as Trent and his band sauntered on stage. As the band members tuned their instruments and warmed up, Trent came over to the skirt of the stage and waved to us, blowing kisses. Eloise blew kisses back. I sank further into my seat, hoping to avoid the inquisitive eyes of the audience. I couldn’t avoid the omnipresent cameras though.

After the announcer introduced Trent, a minutes long ovation welcomed him as he approached the microphone stand. Finally, as the applause subsided, Trent greeted the audience.

“Hello, Los Angeles! Great to be back home again. We’ve got a new album coming out in a few weeks so you’ll hear a bunch of new songs tonight along with some old favorites. We might even reach way back in time to play some songs from like last year!” The crowd roared a mix of laughter and cheers. “But I want to start off with a special song especially for a special person. Is that even English? Ha ha. But I want to send this one out to a girl who I’ve sorely disappointed recently. Maybe this song can communicate something of how I really feel about her. And she knows who she is.” He stepped back from the mic and the drummer counted down the beat.

Somehow, a spotlight found me as Trent sang. A buzz went up in the audience as they realized who I was. Some girls screamed out something indecipherable, more cries than words. Like the spotlight, Trent aimed his attention at me, literally singing to me. Uncomfortably, I smiled. Part of me, I must admit, was transported, charmed, bamboozled, bedazzled. Trent can be very persuasive. All the best liars always are.

Midway through the song, Eloise grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. There was no gentle way to extricate my hand from her grasp so I just bit my lip and squeezed back. She whispered in my ear, “You two were made for each other. I’m so happy that Trent has found the perfect girl…”

When the song ended and the spotlight swung back to the stage, I thought about bolting from the stadium but there were my parents to consider. I could just take an Uber home and let them get picked up later by the car service that was scheduled by GlobalNet for us. But I found myself stuck to my seat. Even during the mid-set break, I sat there with Eloise as Conrad went on another refreshments sortie. I couldn’t even talk to my parents since everyone’s phones were locked up in Yondr bags.

Finally, after a 90-minute concert (not counting the 15-minute mid-set break), I said goodbye to the Fosters and waded through the exiting crowd to reunite with my parents in the accessible seating area. By the time I reached them, I discovered the Fosters were only a few steps behind me.

“Evie, please introduce us to your parents!” Eloise shouted.

I made the introductions. Everyone shook hands. Eloise, of course, was the most enthusiastic among us. Dad and Mr. Foster quickly started up a discussion of legal topics. Consuela and Eloise discussed…you guessed it…how many grandchildren they wanted and the breakdown by gender.

“I’ll bet you’d like some male grandchildren seeing as you’ve got two girls. Just like I’d love some granddaughters. We tried to give Trent a sibling but it didn’t happen. Did you try for a boy after Evie and her sister?”

“Well, no. I’m Evie’s stepmother. Evie’s biological mother passed away when Evie was just 12 years old.”

“Oh, poor child. Well, even without a mom at such a crucial stage in life, Evie turned out to be a beautiful young woman…and so talented. Smart too.”

“That she is. That she is.”

“How long are you in town? Conrad and I would love to have you visit our humble abode in Pacific Palisades. Maybe this weekend?”

“Mom, you know I’m away this weekend. Concerts in San Diego and Santa Barbara.”

Trent kissed his mother, hugged his father, and then leaned in to plant a kiss on my cheek. As he did so, I noticed the camera person right behind him. He was effervescent in exchanging greetings with Dad and Consuela. The camera person, as if on cue, lined everyone up for one last group shot. Trent and I were in the middle, flanked by our parents on either side.

“The cars are here. Geno?” He waved to one of the roadies breaking down the stacks of Marshall amplifiers on stage. “Geno, do me a favor and escort our folks here to where their limos are parked.” He turned to me. “I need to speak to Evie for a few minutes.”

“Of course, sweetheart. You kids need to talk. Conrad, why don’t you help Consuela with Mark’s wheelchair?”

Trent and I sat down in the empty first row as the cleaning crew busied themselves in the stadium.

“I think everything went really well, don’t you?”

“Trent, your parents…that is, your mother has the wrong idea about us—”

“How do you mean?”

I laughed. “She thinks we’re going to give her 2.8 grandchildren to dote on.”

“I’d hope we could round that up to 3 grandchildren. I really want kids myself.”

“So, does Bambi feel the same way?”

“Look, Evie, forget about Bambi. That was a mistake. A big mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“It’s best to use your brain when trying to think not some other organ.”

“Touché. I deserve that. Can we start over? I really like you, Evie. I’ve never met a girl like you.”

“You have no idea.”

“I’m getting too old to just play around. You’re the kind of person who I could be with for the long-term, you know.” He took my hands in his and laser-locked his baby-blue eyes with mine. “When I get off this mini-tour I’m on, we should spend more time together. There are places in SoCal I’d love to show you. And, I admit, my mother is besotted with the idea of you and me getting together. She said just the other day, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re smart, talented, and so very beautiful—”

“Are you reading off a script they handed you? Alastair and Danny? Are you doing this to get better press for yourself and the show?”

“No, I swear, this is me. I’m not acting. Trent Foster really likes Evie Rivers. I can see myself falling deeply in love with you. I am…already.”

“I don’t know what to say, Trent. I like you a lot. What girl wouldn’t. But I don’t want to be used. I don’t want to be hurt.”

“I won’t ever hurt you again.” Trent pulled me toward him and placed his lips gently on mine. He waited for me to respond. I couldn’t stop myself from swooning and kissed him back hungrily. It was a long, wet, sloppy kiss. I’m sure I moaned at least twice. His hands started to explore regions of my person that he mustn’t.

“Trent. Our parents are waiting. We can pick this up when you get back next week.”

“Okay. Here, let me leave a bookmark on this page.” We kissed. Another long, wet, sloppy kiss.

Friday night’s shadow play for GlobalNet’s benefit left me confused. Fortunately, the upcoming weekend would flush all of those conflicting thoughts out of my brain. For two days, the Rivers and Mellons families would get together to celebrate the engagement of Debbie Rivers to Otis Mellons. Saturday was a group outing to Disneyland in Anaheim that started with a two-car caravan. Car one was Otis’ Acura with Debbie, Consuela, Dad, and I packed tightly inside. Car two was the Mellons’ SUV with Carl Mellons at the wheel, his wife Olivia next to him, and his 16-year-old son Ryan, Otis’ brother, lying across the back seat, listening to some New Metal band on his earbuds.

The Mellonses didn’t know anything about me, other than whatever Otis had told them…which was the bare minimum, in deference to Debbie’s wishes. And I wanted to keep all conversation among the parties centered on Debbie. It was her day. She was so happy. And I was thrilled to tears to see how much she and Otis were in love. Of course, the two sets of parents spent much of the day discussing the geographical location of the proposed wedding ceremony. Ryan seemed shy, sneaking furtive looks at me as we lined up for the first ride, the Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters.

“Can I call you Evie?”

“Well, that’s my name, so, yeah, go for it, sport."

“I think Otis should’ve asked you to marry him. You’re so much prettier than Debbie.”

“Thank you for thinking that, Ryan, but Otis obviously doesn’t think so. Debbie’s a real beauty. You ought to see me without all this makeup. It’s scary.”

“But you’re an actress. Trent Foster is dating you!”

Ryan’s still adenoidal voice alerted everyone around us. Suddenly, at least a dozen young women and teenagers, surrounded me, asking for my autograph. Apparently, news travels fast in the digital age. Probably the scene from the concert last night had already been viewed a zillion times by 9 this morning.

A woman with mouse ears on her head exhorted, “Drop that loser Trent! He’s too immature. You need someone who treasures you. Like a precious gem.” I just nodded as I signed her half empty bottle of water. A girl about 16 or 17 asked for a selfie with her and her three friends…individually. I demurred when an older woman asked me to sign her baby’s diaper (which was still on the little tyke). I posed for a selfie with her and her baby instead. Just before we were about to board the ride, a man who looked to be in is forties, asked me to sign his bicep, which he was flexing rather impertinently before my eyes. I was dotting the i in Evie when he hissed, “I’ve got another muscle you could work on too.”

“Hey, you creep!” Debbie shouted at him. Otis stepped forward.

“Move along, dude. You’re harassing my future sister-in-law.” The guy stood there for a moment, looking at the incomplete autograph on his arm.

“Okay. I’m good. I was just talking about my other bicep. Geez, some people have such dirty minds.”

Disneyland has over two dozen rides that are accessible to wheelchair users in their twin theme parks, the original Disneyland and Disney’s California Adventure. Debbie and I decided to split up the rides between us, so it was that I sat with Dad on the second ride, The Jungle Cruise. It was similar to the Jungle Cruise at Disney World in Orlando, which the family had visited more than a decade ago. Same jokes. We disregarded the running commentary and chatted.

“You never told me what you and Trent talked about after we were escorted to our limos.”

“Oh, Dad, it was nothing. He tried to convince me that he had real feelings for me—”

“Your face was a little flush. He kissed you, didn’t he.”

I didn’t reply. I was afraid I’d blush so I turned away just in time to see the boat with the animatronic chimpanzees. That made me laugh. Then the laughs turned into tears. I put my head on Dad’s shoulder.

“What is it, Evie? Tell daddy.”

“I don’t want to feel this way, Daddy. I can’t…I can’t fall for that stupid…he’s full of himself. Just a narcissist.”

“You have good sense, honey. Use it. Keep it a professional relationship—”

“His mother already thinks I’m going to give her grandkids!”

“Have you talked to Chuck about seeking help with your transition?”

I sat back up straight and wiped my eyes. “Yes, I spoke to him. He says he knows a doctor who specializes in cases of gender dysphoria. I think he’s going to set up an appointment for me.”

“What do you think about Chuck? I know he’s your boss but can you trust him?”

“He’s probably the only person in this town other than Debbie I have total trust in. He’s a really good guy.”

“He likes you, doesn’t he.”

“Oh, no, Dad. Like I said the other night, he’s strictly interested in cis women. When he found out about me, he was very disappointed. Not his type, you know. But I think he’s a friend, above and beyond being my boss. And a few weeks from now, I won’t be working for him anyway.”

“I’d like to meet Chuck before Consuela and I go back home. You know, a father’s plea to keep an eye out for his little girl. This is a brutal town. A mean industry, Evie. You’ll need someone on your side.”

“I have an agent, Juan.”

“He’s got a 10% interest in you but that’s as far as it goes. He’ll get other clients. Your file will just go to the back of the cabinet.”

“Maybe you and Consuela can move out here permanently. With Debbie getting married soon, I’ll be all alone.”

“You’re a big girl, Evie. You have a good head on your shoulders and you have a way about you. Just make sure no one takes advantage of your good-naturedness. And I’m just a plane flight away if you need me.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. It was comforting, if only in the moment. I was glad I had my family with me this weekend. And my heart was filled with the love they had for me. I smiled as I pictured myself being Debbie’s maid of honor at her wedding. The animatronic elephant trumpeted its approval.

The following week must have warmed the cold, calculating hearts of Michelle Gravesend and Alastair Knowles at GlobalNet. The media were “shipping” Trent and me, galvanized by the video clip from the concert that was making its way to Alpha Centauri as we speak. Unfortunately for GlobalNet, aliens probably aren’t metered by Nielsen. Juan called me Monday morning, practically in tears.

“Evie, I can’t handle all these requests for interviews and photo shoots that I’m getting for you. The phone’s ringing off the hook! You’ve got to get a public relations agent. I could suggest one or two that I’ve dealt with…”

“But I’d rather not be interviewed and I’m not a model. Why would they want to take pictures of me, Juan? I haven’t even started acting yet.”

“You’re hot as molten lava, Evie. Trent singing to you like that made you the flavor of the month. You’re a complete mystery and everyone’s competing to be the first to solve it.”

Chuck was out of the office, on his way to see the Special Events people at the L.A. Clippers offices on Flower Street, two blocks away from Crypto Arena. I made a voice call to him in the hopes he could pull me out of this morass.

“Evie, what’s up?”

“Juan called and said there are too many requests for interviews and fashion spreads than he can handle. He said I should get a P.R. agent. And he gave me a couple of names. I don’t know how to do this, Chuck. Help?”

“I’ve got a meeting until about 11. Okay, here’s what we can do. I’ll call Juan and have him forward any requests he gets to me. I’ll look them over and see which ones are worth accepting. I think the ones most useful to you will be TV interviews and podcasts. The print stuff and the photo sessions can wait. Sound good?”

“Yes, of course, Chuck. I trust your judgment—”

“That’s what my first wife said too—”

“Chuck, you were married? You never told me—”

“It’s a joke, Evie. A joke. I’m pulling into the parking lot right now. I’ll call you back when I can.”

As he promised, Chuck got back to me about two hours later, just as I was sharing a green salad with Debbie in the cafeteria. He decided I should do a TV interview on a local morning show the next day, bright and early at 8:30AM. He said not to worry about makeup and hair. They have people to do that for guests. Just pick out a nice, flattering outfit to wear, he emphasized. He gave me the address and disconnected.

Still half asleep and shaking in my boots (I was wearing some strappy sandals with low heels), I showed up at the TV station precisely at 8:30AM. They hustled me into hair and makeup and made me look presentable. When I stepped out of the room, I saw Chuck sitting in a folding chair, checking the texts on his phone. He stood up when I approached and I threw my arms around him.

“I didn’t expect you’d be here. I’m so nervous. I’m st-t-tuttering.”

“It’s the air conditioning, Evie. You’ll be okay. Just act natural. Don’t be taken aback by any stupid questions. These people are not rocket scientists.”

“Miss Rivers? You’re on after the next break,” the production assistant announced.

“I’ll be alright now you’re here.” I squeezed Chuck’s hand, which was almost twice the size of mine.

It was only a 5-minute spot but things turned out well. Now and again, as my interviewer droned on, asking inane question after inane question, I would peek behind her and see Chuck just off-set, giving me the thumbs up sign. I reflexively smiled each time. I suppose the viewers must have thought I was one very cheerful girl.

The rest of the week went rather smoothly. Chuck screened the requests for my time and I ended up having two more TV interviews, three podcast guest spots, and one National Public Radio feature segment. My voice filled with snark when I told Chuck I didn’t think anyone listened to terrestrial radio anymore. “I do,” he replied and walked away. Later, I learned that Chuck had interned at the LA NPR station when he was in high school. Back then, he wanted to be a radio sports talk host.

Misty Connors asked to speak to me in her office on Friday morning. I was half-expecting this so I girded my loins and quietly presented myself at her door. She looked up from her laptop and waved me in.

“Come in, Evie. Sit down.”

I looked around her office. There was a cabinet filled with trophies and badges denoting team championships and personal honors in the soccer careers of her and her sister Christy. On the walls hung photos and framed documents predominantly related to her athletic accomplishments. There was one photo that caught my eye. It was a shot of her and Clark, probably taken in the early years of their marriage or, perhaps, even earlier.

They seemed very happy, although it’s significant that Misty’s smile is open mouthed and broader than Clark’s tight-lipped smirk. My mind reeled and the memory of that episode from the week before in Redondo Beach made me gasp slightly. Misty looked up.

“Are you alright, Evie? Have some water.” She handed me a bottle. I twisted the cap off and took a long draught. Unfortunately, that made me choke. Misty came over to slap me on the back but I held up my hands as if to say I was okay.

“I wanted to speak to you before you left us. I know that’s not for another few weeks but my schedule in the summer is so packed, I’m not going to be in the office much. So…”

“You’re not firing me?”

“Of course not. What makes you think that? Chuck can’t stop speaking in superlatives about you. Enough to make me want to convince you to turn down Hollywood and stay in marketing—”

“Is that what Chuck wants?”

“No.” She laughed. “He and I both know that’d be mission impossible. It’s every little girl’s dream to be a movie star…or to marry one. Looks like you’re more than halfway there already.”

“You can’t believe everything you read or see on TV…”

“Regardless, I haven’t spent much time with you at all and I’d really like to get to know you a little better. Outside of the office. In a more casual environment. Even though this environment is pretty darn casual. Some of these girls don’t change their clothes days at a time. I pray they change their underwear regularly.”

“I try to wash out my bra every night. Sometimes I forget—”

“Evie, Clark and I are going out on our boat this weekend. I’d like you to come. Bring a friend if you wish. Bring two! Clark usually likes to do some fishing in the Santa Monica Bay. Come join us tomorrow. If you don’t like fishing, you can sunbathe. That’s what I do.”

“Would you mind if I brought my dad along. He’d love to do some deep-sea fishing. He and my stepmom are going back to New Jersey on Sunday—”

“Bring them both. Plenty of room on the boat.”

“You can fit all these people on a cabin cruiser?”

“Cabin cruiser? Clark’s got a yacht. A relatively small one, sure, but it’s a yacht!”

“Then would you mind if I brought my sister and her fiancé?”

“The more the merrier. Debbie’s engaged?”

“Yeah, you missed the showing last week in the cafeteria. Emerald in a gold-leaf setting.”

“Nice. When’s the wedding?”

“In the Fall.”

“Debbie’s going to have a famous movie star as her maid of honor. Bet she’s over the moon about that. Well, Chuck will pick you guys up tomorrow morning. I thought he would’ve already told you. Back to the grind. See you tomorrow, Evie.”

I bumped into Chuck in the hallway a few minutes later.

“What time should we expect you tomorrow morning?”

“What time? Oh, right. I’m picking you up at 8:30. Is that okay?”

“Misty said I could bring Dad and Consuela along. Dad really wants to meet you too.”

“It might not be best idea to go, Evie.”

“Why? And it’d be rude to turn down an invitation from Misty herself.”

“Misty? No, Clark asked her to invite you. It was Clark’s idea. He said you enjoyed fishing.”

“Oh. It was Clark’s idea.” We looked at each other in silence for a moment. “Look, what can happen? Misty will be there. My Dad and Consuela will be there. Heck, Debbie and Otis are coming too. And, most importantly, you’ll be there.”

“Famous last words?”