“But I can’t wear that! My father would be scandalized.” I heard a snigger from behind me and shot Selene, our ‘other’ make-up person, a sneer.

I yawned as I clambered into Chuck’s Honda Passport at the ungodly time of 8:20 on a Saturday morning. Chuck laughed and plopped a sun hat on top of my head, tousling my barely brushed hair.

Chuck faced the illuminated city of night below us. His voice was invested with emotion. I wondered where that was coming from.

After figuratively bumping into Richie Morrow on the way to the dugout, I literally collided with Jimmy Fallon, our team’s player-manager, as I sprinted onto the field.

“What’s bugging you, Evie?”

“I think I’m in love.”

“With Chuck? Juan? Richie Morrow?”

“No, silly, Trent. Trent Foster. He’s simply…wonderful.”

“Oy vey.”

“Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“There’s less than ten lines for my character in the whole scene, Debbie.”

The morning after the charity gala, Debbie literally dragged me out of bed (actually the couch).
As I landed on the floor with a dull thud, still wearing the outfit I wore to the gala, I protested groggily.

(Author's Note: I apologize profusely for taking so long to post the latest chapter of this story. Real life has been quite bothersome lately and the energy to write ebbed to a standstill on certain days. However, I can see light at the end of the tunnel and hope to resume posting on a regular schedule. Thank you for continuing to read and I hope you comment as well.)

(Author’s note: This story picks up the action several months after the events in Love Has No Pride and When You Wish Upon a Star.)