missed.
“Ha! What a woman driver,” he screamed at me, then he tilted his head back and his blond curls bounced as he laughed so hard. The word
jackal
came to mind.
I whirled the car around and followed him. He seemed like such a kid. He had to be on the show for the money. He didn’t seem to have the maturity to be looking for a real relationship.
Then again, does anyone go on a reality show looking for a real relationship?
“What’re you looking for in life, Nathan?” I asked as my car connected with his bumper.
He bumped my car back. “Fun!”
“What else?” I asked, as I rammed into his mini racecar.
He grinned. “Love.”
“What else?”
He bumped my car again, this time softer. “A friend. A best friend, I think,” he said, laughing.
“Money?” I asked.
“Sure, lots of that. Fame, too. But love is more important than those things.”
“You’re a walking cliché,” I said.
He drove his car away from me. “I’m not walking, sister. I’m racing.”
I sped toward him. “And I’m doing the chasing, is that right?”
Suddenly our cars lost speed and the whir of the power going off punctuated the end of the ride.
He popped out of his car and helped me out of mine. I was still barefoot and slid on the smooth surface of the bumper car arena floor. He caught me.
“Oh, girl. It’s almost like you’re surfing! Show me your best move.”
“Are you kidding?” I chuckled. “I don’t surf!”
He fell to his knees in a mock death. “You’re killing me. Next date, let’s go to the beach. I’ll teach you!” He took off at a sprint and slid across the slick floor, arms extended in full surf mode.
If only I had control of the dates. I’d love to surf with this crazy guy.
Richard was standing near the exit of the bumper car ride. In an unspoken dance, each guy was patiently waiting his turn with me. Man, group dates were awkward. And what was I really learning?
Nathan wiggled his fingers at me and I blew him a kiss as he disappeared, presumably to return to the blanket picnic—or for all I knew maybe they were all relaxing in their dressing rooms. Suddenly the image of Pietro hanging in mine flashed before my eyes.
I felt off balance and grabbed for Richard’s arm.
“What is it?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
I covered my face with my free hand and took a deep breath.
“Cut!” Cheryl yelled. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing!” I said. “I just . . . I just need some water.”
“I’ll get you some,” Richard offered.
But a crew member was already handing me a bottle of icy water. I nodded at him gratefully, took a swig, then wiped the condensation from the bottle off my hand. “I’m okay now.”
Cheryl eyed me cautiously. “Why don’t we take fifteen?”
I shook my head. “We don’t have to stop on my account,” I said.
Richard rubbed my arm. “It’s okay if you need to take a break.”
“I have to give the crew a break anyway,” Cheryl said.
Oh, my! This was the first time she was actually being nice to me.
What was going on?
• • • • • • • • •
I walked down the corridor toward my dressing room. What should have been a walk to relax myself turned into a death march. I couldn’t get the image of Pietro out of my mind and now walking to the dressing room only made it worse.
I stopped in front of the door, wishing someone were with me, but that was silly. I was a big girl now.
What were the chances of finding another heinous scene in my dressing room? Really? Probably slim to none.
I heard rustling behind the door.
My breath caught.
Was someone inside my dressing room?
I frantically turned the knob and pushed open the door. A man was seated in my makeup chair. He whirled around and I screamed.
I clapped a hand over my frenetically beating heart. “Daddy!”
My father leapt from the chair and embraced me. “Shh. Don’t make too much noise. I’m not supposed to be
“Ha! What a woman driver,” he screamed at me, then he tilted his head back and his blond curls bounced as he laughed so hard. The word
jackal
came to mind.
I whirled the car around and followed him. He seemed like such a kid. He had to be on the show for the money. He didn’t seem to have the maturity to be looking for a real relationship.
Then again, does anyone go on a reality show looking for a real relationship?
“What’re you looking for in life, Nathan?” I asked as my car connected with his bumper.
He bumped my car back. “Fun!”
“What else?” I asked, as I rammed into his mini racecar.
He grinned. “Love.”
“What else?”
He bumped my car again, this time softer. “A friend. A best friend, I think,” he said, laughing.
“Money?” I asked.
“Sure, lots of that. Fame, too. But love is more important than those things.”
“You’re a walking cliché,” I said.
He drove his car away from me. “I’m not walking, sister. I’m racing.”
I sped toward him. “And I’m doing the chasing, is that right?”
Suddenly our cars lost speed and the whir of the power going off punctuated the end of the ride.
He popped out of his car and helped me out of mine. I was still barefoot and slid on the smooth surface of the bumper car arena floor. He caught me.
“Oh, girl. It’s almost like you’re surfing! Show me your best move.”
“Are you kidding?” I chuckled. “I don’t surf!”
He fell to his knees in a mock death. “You’re killing me. Next date, let’s go to the beach. I’ll teach you!” He took off at a sprint and slid across the slick floor, arms extended in full surf mode.
If only I had control of the dates. I’d love to surf with this crazy guy.
Richard was standing near the exit of the bumper car ride. In an unspoken dance, each guy was patiently waiting his turn with me. Man, group dates were awkward. And what was I really learning?
Nathan wiggled his fingers at me and I blew him a kiss as he disappeared, presumably to return to the blanket picnic—or for all I knew maybe they were all relaxing in their dressing rooms. Suddenly the image of Pietro hanging in mine flashed before my eyes.
I felt off balance and grabbed for Richard’s arm.
“What is it?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
I covered my face with my free hand and took a deep breath.
“Cut!” Cheryl yelled. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing!” I said. “I just . . . I just need some water.”
“I’ll get you some,” Richard offered.
But a crew member was already handing me a bottle of icy water. I nodded at him gratefully, took a swig, then wiped the condensation from the bottle off my hand. “I’m okay now.”
Cheryl eyed me cautiously. “Why don’t we take fifteen?”
I shook my head. “We don’t have to stop on my account,” I said.
Richard rubbed my arm. “It’s okay if you need to take a break.”
“I have to give the crew a break anyway,” Cheryl said.
Oh, my! This was the first time she was actually being nice to me.
What was going on?
• • • • • • • • •
I walked down the corridor toward my dressing room. What should have been a walk to relax myself turned into a death march. I couldn’t get the image of Pietro out of my mind and now walking to the dressing room only made it worse.
I stopped in front of the door, wishing someone were with me, but that was silly. I was a big girl now.
What were the chances of finding another heinous scene in my dressing room? Really? Probably slim to none.
I heard rustling behind the door.
My breath caught.
Was someone inside my dressing room?
I frantically turned the knob and pushed open the door. A man was seated in my makeup chair. He whirled around and I screamed.
I clapped a hand over my frenetically beating heart. “Daddy!”
My father leapt from the chair and embraced me. “Shh. Don’t make too much noise. I’m not supposed to be
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