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What could I do? He had given hours—months—to me. I knew it was the most foolish move of my life, but I said yes.
I could not put my heart into that play. It was pure nonsense from beginning to end. The tall model and the jockey were in every foolish situation ever invented.
The night of the play I felt lowest of all. I didn't see how I could go out on that stage and make a laughing stock of myself right in front of my parents and Reed Harrington.
"I can't do it," I groaned to Carlos.
He reached up and patted me on the back. "Stage fright. All the best actors have it. You'll be fine."
I could see he could hardly wait for the curtains to open. His brown eyes, shining with eagerness. I had to go through with it for him.
"I'm with you, " I said, "to the end."
Carlos took my hand in both of his. "We'll celebrate after the play. OK, Karen?"
I managed to smile down at him. "It's a date."
The band stopped playing, and the curtains opened.
Carlos as the jockey and I, the model, were seated at a table.
