It was a lazy, hot Sunday afternoon in October. The first off-day on the Arizona Fall League 6-week schedule that ended on November 11th. Which was perfect for me since Debbie and Otis’ wedding would be held the weekend after. I was lounging in the watermelon slice pool float Chuck and I had purchased in a mall in Glendale, half a mile from our cute, little short-term rental garden apartment. We had moved into it barely an hour after we drove into town from Corona Del Mar. It took over 6 hours by car. We could have chosen to fly instead. A 75-minute flight. But, as it turned out, spending half a day in close quarters, listening to Chuck’s Spotify playlists and sneaking kisses on the side, was a very romantic way to pass the time.

I looked at the watch on my left wrist and started to paddle toward the near side of the pool. I had just enough time to change clothes and make the half-hour drive to Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport to meet Chuck’s flight coming in from Cleveland. It was a good thing we hadn’t availed ourselves of the housing the league provided the other players and coaches. The anonymity in these surroundings was a balm after all the media attention in Los Angeles. That is, until the teenage sons of two of our neighbors came bounding down the stairs, stopped in their tracks as I was toweling off, and just stood there ogling. They caused a bottleneck on the landing, and I blushed beet red as the people behind them whispered my name to each other. They also mentioned Trent Foster in the same breath. A name I wish to never hear again. I was trying to figure out how to get past this mob and re-enter my apartment when my phone rang.

“Evie, I texted you twice in the last hour, but you never responded.”

“Juan! I haven’t heard from you in a dog’s age. Sorry, but I was on a float in the pool here. The team’s off today—”

“I have some bad news, Evie. Alastair Knowles called this morning. On a Sunday! Well, GlobalNet just pulled the plug on Newport—”

“I figured as much with the strike and all—”

“That was only part of the reason. Your ex-boyfriend Trent wanted to re-negotiate his contract. I guess the success of his new record has given him an even bigger head than he already had. GlobalNet basically said fuck off.”

“There goes my showbiz career. Oh well, it was nice working with you, Juan. You’re the best agent I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only one, Evie.” Silence. “Listen, this isn’t the end of the story. I’ve got some irons in the fire for you. Danny and Alastair still think you have great potential.”

“Don’t go out of your way, Juan. I’m sure there are better clients you can work with than me. I haven’t earned you much in commission for all your trouble. And I’m happier back in baseball anyway. What’s that noise in the background? Where are you?”

“I’m at the AC. Just finished playing squash. Lost two sets to one. Hey, I’m not giving up, Evie. Say, how are things with you and Chuck? I’m glad you two got together. That Trent character wasn’t right for you.”

“Chuck and I are doing well. We’ll be back in LA next month. Did you get your invite to Debbie’s wedding yet?”

“Oh, yeah, Glynnis and I will be there with bells on.”

“By the by, they’re registered with Crate and Barrel.”

“Got it. Alright, Evie. Glynnis is expecting me back home right about now. Did I tell you she’s got a bun in the oven? Looks like a Spring baby. You and Chuck would have beautiful children. The two of you really won the genetic lottery—”

“I have to go and pick Chuck up at the airport now. If we don’t speak until next month, I’ll see you at the wedding. Goodbye Juan.”

I disconnected and, sighing, walked toward my apartment, carrying my towel and the pool float. During the phone call, the crowd had dispersed. Strangely, I didn’t feel depressed by the news Juan had delivered. My acting career was always an afterthought. It never thrilled me like being involved with baseball again. Or Chuck. I smiled as I closed the door to my apartment.

The convenience of playing in a league where five of the six teams are located less than 30 miles from downtown Phoenix (Salt River was 120 miles to the east, necessitating a two-hour bus ride) meant sleeping in your own bed every night. On nights when Chuck wasn’t on the road, recruiting clients from various NBA and NFL teams, he’d drive me to the games and sit in the stands, rooting along with the other players’ and coaches’ spouses. One particular night in Salt River, early in November, as I customarily was the last to shower, change, and leave the locker room, I almost ran headlong into Ray Crawford.

“Oh my God, Ray! I didn’t see you.”

“Hi, Evie. I’ll take it as a welcoming hug. How are you finding coaching in the Fall League? Good?”

“Great. It’s been fun working with these kids. So, why are you here in Peoria, of all places?”

I started to walk toward the exit and Ray took two long strides to catch up.

“I could lie and say I was checking up on Miguel’s progress but he’s headed to Double A next season so that shouldn’t really concern me.” He reached out and gently grabbed my arm to stop me. We stood in the corridor leading to the side exit to the parking lot. The rest of the team had already boarded the bus back to Glendale. Another five minutes and the porters would probably turn out all the lights and close up the stadium.

“Ray, Chuck’s waiting for me. It’s a two-hour drive back to Glendale and he’s got a flight to San Francisco to catch in the morning—”

“Yeah, I know. I sat with him during the game. He’s alright, Evie. I like him.”

“Well, I like him too.” I laughed. “A lot.”

“I told him if he ever hurts you, I’d find him and choke the life out of him.”

“Chuck’s 6’4”. He towers over you, Ray.”

“Basketball players are greyhounds. I’m a baseball player. We’re Rottweilers. Look at my forearms—”

“This is a silly conversation, Ray. I have to go. We’re playing here tomorrow night. Maybe we can have a drink after the game.”

“I’m going back home tomorrow, Evie. The real reason I’m here tonight is to tell you what I found out from my contacts in the Dodgers’ front office. They’re thinking about offering you a coaching job with their AAA team in Oklahoma City next season.”

“You’re joking! No, you’re serious? Wow!”

“They’ll probably wait until after the New Year before formally offering you the position.”

“I can’t wait to tell Chuck—”

“Do you think he’ll want to spend 6 months of the year in Oklahoma?”

“We’ll work it out. We’re in love, Ray. Really, truly in love.”

“I hope it all works out for you, Evie.” He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“Thank you, Ray, for rescuing me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t offered me the coaching job in Cucamonga. I might have decided to go back to being the nondescript girlish man with an uncertain future I was before Debbie came up with the crazy idea of interviewing with her company—”

Ray held my face in his massive hands. “I’ll confess I wasn’t thinking about your issues when I gave you the job. When you came by the office that first time to pitch the promotional t-shirts, I saw you…saw you as you really are, for the first time in all the years we’ve known each other. I slapped myself for not admitting I’ve always been in love with you. When we roomed together on road trips during our junior year, I’d pretend to be asleep so I could watch you in the other bed. You looked so beautiful—”

“You’re creeping me out, Ray.” I removed his hands from my face and started to turn toward the exit. “Chuck is probably worried about what’s keeping me. So long, Ray, thanks for the great news!”

“If you need anything, Evie, you know where to find me.”

Back home in Glendale, Chuck and I quickly slipped between the sheets. Chuck had an 8AM flight to San Francisco to catch and I wanted to make him a nice breakfast so, as the old baseball bromide goes, we had to “sleep fast.” Just before I felt my eyelids getting too heavy to keep open, I remembered to tell Chuck about the Dodgers’ possible coaching offer. At first, he didn’t respond, and he seemed to react to my broad smile by turning his body to face away from me. I was apprehensive. Was this too far a bridge to cross?

A couple of minutes later, still facing away from me, he said, “They say the climate in Oklahoma from April through September is lovely. There are five major airlines that fly direct to OKC. And there’s a couple of potential clients on The Thunder—”

I wrapped my arms around Chuck’s back and kissed his neck repeatedly.

The final week of the Fall League season started with an off day on Monday for all six teams. Chuck and I flew back to Los Angeles after the game on Sunday evening so I could receive my monthly injections of estrogen and anti-androgens on Monday morning from Dr. Petry.

We planned to have Debbie and Otis over to our Corona Del Mar house for dinner that night. I had Consuela teach me how to make Arroz Con Pollo, using her mother’s recipe, over a zoom call. She started weeping over the chicken as she showed me how to season it with a spice mix of salt, pepper, and cumin.

“Consuela, why are you crying?”

“Oh, mi hija…I’m handing down a family recipe to my daughter just like my mother did to me. You’re a woman now, Evie…”
She couldn’t continue as she choked up but managed to keep rubbing up the chicken breasts, tears blinding her.

“You’re making me cry now, Consuela. We’ll never get this cooking lesson finished.”

Chuck had his arm around my waist as we searched the parking lot of the hospital for our car. Playfully, he patted my buttocks, and I winced in pain. I was about to turn around and remonstrate him for doing that, just ten minutes after Dr. Petry had planted two spikes in my gluteus maximus on the upper right side of my hips. Showing bravery, I had declined the ice pack to numb the area. It stung!

“Evie? Evie Rivers?” I stopped laughing and looked up to see Eloise Foster, Trent’s mother, standing in the middle of the lane.

“Mrs. Foster! So…nice to see you. Are you visiting a patient here?”

“No, I was visiting a friend who just had a procedure of a female nature. Across the street in Hollywood Presbyterian. But I parked here because it’s cheaper than their rates. It’s only $15 for an hour if you self-park. Oh, who is this?”

“This is my…fiancé, Chuck Connors. Chuck, this is Trent’s mother, Mrs. Foster.”

“Please call me Eloise.”

“Nice to meet you…Eloise.”

“Evie, can I have a word with you?”

“Evie, I’ll go and locate our car. It was a pleasure, Mrs. Foster.” Chuck walked off.

“Handsome young man you have there, Evie. Quite tall as well.”

“He played basketball at UCLA. What is it you want to speak to me about?”

“I know you broke it off with Trent months ago but…Evie, he’s still pining for you. I just had a long zoom call with him from Dublin where he’s finishing his European tour. Completely sold out, Evie. They had to add dates to satisfy all the demands for tickets! He even had to go back to London for three more concerts at Wembley Stadium! Imagine!”

“I’m glad for Trent. He’s very talented. But you were saying?”

“Oh, yes. He was practically in tears, Evie. I don’t think he’s ever liked a girl as much as he adores you.”

“He didn’t like me enough to keep Newport in production. I lost a million-dollar contract when GlobalNet cancelled the show because Trent wanted more money—”

“Well, that’s business, sweetie. I told Trent they were low-balling him. I mean, he’s got the #1 streaming album in the world right now. Relatively speaking, they were expecting him to work for coolie wages—”

“Eloise, Chuck’s waiting for me…”

“I’ll cut to the chase. You know, Trent’s too bashful to ask but I’m a practical person. He’s returning to LA after Thanksgiving, and he’s scheduled for a pair of dates at Dodger Stadium. It’s already 90% sold out! He’d like you to come on stage to make an appearance when he sings ‘California Dreamin’.’ The audience identifies you with the music video. It was a smash hit.”

“I’m a practical person too, Eloise. How much is my fee for this cameo appearance?”

“I would think the value of free publicity would be payment enough.”

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Foster. Nice bumping into you.” I walked quickly away in a random direction, not really knowing where we had parked our car. Fortunately, Chuck rolled up behind me and stopped to let me hop in the passenger side. Eloise stood stock-still as we drove out of the lot.

Debbie and Otis were married on a late Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving Day in an outdoor ceremony held at Friends Corner Ranch in Ventura County, 60 miles north of Los Angeles. For most of the past century, Ventura County was known for its citrus groves, but the industry moved its center of gravity to the San Juaquin Valley in Northern California a few decades ago. Friends Corner Ranch, once a full-service farm, has morphed into a rustic inn, country music club, and popular wedding venue. Otis’ family, The Mellons, had roots in this county as farmers and citrus growers, having moved here from Oklahoma in the Dust Bowl Migration of the 1930s. And they brought their favorite music with them. Old Timey music, the sort of folk balladry that led to Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, and The Weavers.

As Debbie’s maid of honor, it was my first social ritual as a legally recognized woman. The paperwork my father had submitted to the New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission had been processed and approved. Although it was Debbie’s wedding, the smiles on my face and the faces of my family and loved ones in the wedding party bore witness to the event as my true coming-out ceremony. Chuck was especially complimentary of how beautiful I looked in my bridesmaid gown.

“Better than the Glamour Magazine cover?”

Debbie jumped in. “She’ll look even better in a wedding gown, Chuck. Don’t you think so too, Consuela?”

That instigated a torrent of waterworks from Consuela as she hugged Dad and blubbered, “Evie would make the world’s most beautiful bride, honey. Our girls are all grown up…”

At the reception in the inn, we were serenaded by a local family of musicians, playing songs to accompany dance steps I’d never heard of, much less knew how to execute. Chuck and I looked like city slickers as we stumbled around trying to square dance, clog, and buck dance. The Mellons family laughed good-naturedly at our clumsy attempts.

Around midnight, back in Corona Del Mar, Chuck and I sat in our backyard, looking up at the stars embedded in the black velvet night sky. Dad and Consuela were asleep in the guest room. Debbie and Otis were on a plane headed for San Francisco, en route to their week-long honeymoon tryst in Big Sur. Debbie reserved her remaining vacation days for our planned Christmas week with Dad and Consuela at the end of the year.

“Debbie and Otis looked really happy,” noted Chuck as he sipped his Chamomile tea.

“They’re blissfully in love.”

“Seeing what a travesty of a marriage Misty and Clark have, I didn’t think I’d ever want to take the plunge myself.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“By the way, I forgot to mention this, but we’re invited to Thanksgiving dinner at Christy’s house.”

“Oh, no, Misty and Clark will be there. I’m not going—”

“Christy says Misty’s planning to come without Clark. Something’s up, I guess.”

“Even so, she fired me and accused me of trying to steal her husband. How can I even be in the same room with that woman?”

“Do it for me, Evie. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Please.”

“If she starts anything, I’m leaving. Even if I have to walk all the way home.”

“I’ll leave with you.”

“Okay but you promise.”

“I promise. Let’s go to bed.” He took my hand and ushered me into the house, his hand tracing circles over my backside.

“Chuck, my parents are in the next room.”

“We’ll be quiet…”

I was backed into a corner, literally. I felt the handles of several umbrellas impinging on the seat of my jeans as I stepped back into the stand in the entryway. Unconsciously, I put my hands out in front of me as if to push her away.

“Evie, please, I need to speak to you. Watch out!” I stumbled and almost fell to my knees. Misty grabbed me by the arms and lifted me to my feet.

“I don’t blame you for running away from me. Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you, Misty. But we really don’t have much to say to each other—”

“But I do, Evie. I do. I’m sorry for over-reacting and firing you so…so summarily. You never did any of the things I accused you of. I found out the real story. I’ve had it with Clark’s flaunting his extra-marital affairs in front of me and everyone. I’m getting a divorce.”

“How did you come to this realization?”

“Mei Ling spilled the beans.”

“I hope you fired her—”

“Oh no, she’s Clark’s victim. Just like you were. She had to do what he asked. To keep her job.”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Huh? Ultimately, she showed her loyalty to me and the company. Her talents are wasted as an executive assistant. I promoted her to sales manager. Now that Buzz is running the company, I think he and Mei Ling will make a great team.”

“I’m sure Buzz would agree.”

“Now, I hope you’ll forgive me for my rash accusations. As you well know, Clark can charm the pants off you. He can lie through his teeth, and you’ll believe every word. Christy and I have controlling interest in the company so, with the divorce, Clark’s history. I’d like to give you back your job if you want. I do hope you’ll seriously consider coming back.”

“I’ll…uh…give it some thought, Misty.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Maybe after the New Year?”

“Maybe.”

She walked back into the living room to join everyone as they watched the 4th Quarter of the Cowboys/Commanders game. She patted Chuck’s shoulder as he emerged from the room, ostensibly searching for me.

“You’ve got a peach of a girl there, bro. Better put a ring on it before she gets away.”

Chuck smiled and locked eyes with me.

As Debbie and I had planned, weeks before the wedding, we spent Christmas week in New York City. My sister and I went shopping while the boys did whatever boys do. It’s been half a year living as a woman that I’ve forgotten what boys do. Of course, we took in Broadway shows, took romantic strolls in Central Park, ate at several trendy restaurants in downtown Manhattan, and even ventured into the Boho regions of Brooklyn. But mostly, we shopped.

After opening presents at my parents’ house in Somerset, New Jersey on Christmas morning, Chuck and I drove into the city to sit in celebrity row at Madison Square Garden, taking in the Knicks game against the Milwaukee Bucks. Chuck got the seats through Eliot Bradshaw, starting shooting guard for the Knicks and Chuck’s biggest client. As we settled into our seats some 20 minutes before tip-off, I noticed Alastair Knowles and his wife, Joanne, sitting several seats down from us, almost on the court itself.

Distracted by some of the players emerging from the locker rooms to warm up on the court, I didn’t realize that Alastair and Joanne had ambled over to us. We exchanged pleasantries and greetings of the season, standing up to shake hands.

“Come to watch your favorite client, Chuck?”

“Of course. Evie and I are in town for Christmas and Eliot comped us these great seats so here we are. Evie, you know that Eliot is Joanne’s stepson, right?”

“Yes, and I’m a patient of Dr. Petry’s, Eliot’s good friend. Small world.”

“I’m glad to run into you, Evie. I was going to wait until the New Year, but I’ll let you know right now. We’ve been trying to cast “Painted from Memory,” Joanne’s screenplay, and we’re at a loss to find someone to play the main character from age 21 to age 33. We’ve tested and read a dozen actresses.”

“But I insisted that we give the role to a trans actress. I put my foot down on that, didn’t I, Alastair?” Joanne smiled at me.

“The long and short of it is…we’d like to try you in the role—”

“But I’ve never acted really. I might be horrible on screen.”

“We thought about that. How would you like to take acting classes. On GlobalNet’s dime, of course. Production probably won’t start until the Spring at the earliest. You’ll have a good eight weeks of classes at least. Danny Dantley thinks you’re a natural.”

“Do it, Evie. I’d be thrilled to have you play that part in the movie.” Joanne took my hand and squeezed.

“Do you need to know my answer now? Like my agent Juan likes to say, I’ve got some irons in the fire…”

“Of course, take your time. Let us know when you’ve sorted out your various irons. The game’s starting soon. Enjoy the game, guys. Hey, there’s Eliot. He’s waving us over. Happy New Year!”

At the end of each quarter, the giant scoreboard suspended over center court would display celebrity sightings in the stands. There were so many that I lost count: Aaron Rodgers, Spike Lee (of course), Pete Davidson, Emma Roberts, Aaron Judge, Trevor Noah, Michael J. Fox, rapper Jack Harlow, Paul Rudd, etc., etc. I was glad Trent Foster was on another coast that week. I looked around just to make sure.

At half-time, there was a buzz in the crowd. Probably another celebrity sighting, I didn’t bother to look up from the plate of nachos I was sharing with Chuck. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind and pointed up at the scoreboard. I was stunned to see myself on the board, half-chewed nachos still in my open mouth. I quickly swallowed. The camera zoomed out and Chuck was on one knee, holding open a jewel box with a glittering engagement ring sitting smack dab in the middle of it. Above the din of the crowd and the incessant music being played at every opportunity through the loudspeakers, I half-heard and half lip-read Chuck’s question.

“Will you marry me, Evie, and make me the happiest man in the universe?”

The crowd chanted “Say yes! Say yes!”

I whispered, “I should kill you for doing this in front of 20,000 people.”

In a loud voice, I answered, “Yes. I’ll marry you!” Nervously, Chuck slipped the ring onto my finger. We rushed into each other’s arms and kissed. A breathtakingly long and passionate kiss.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

I don’t really recall who won the game.

Author’s Note: Thank you, dear readers, for following this story through these many months. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. Until next time…