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打印"You won't be alone," he told me. "I, too, am joining the Dramatics Club."
Four months went by—four months of being almost a puppet, with Carlos pulling the strings.
Then one day, he told me about his latest brain wave. It seemed my acting career was about to burst into flower with the lead part in a play Carlos had dug up. It was about a six-foot model who! falls in love with a jockey.
"You, I suppose, are the jockey," I said.
He grinned.
"No way, " I said. "That story has been done so many times it has lost its humor. The coach would never let us put on a play like that."
"That's where you're wrong, Karen," said Carlos. "It's all arranged and that plot is still funny."
"But I don't want to be funny," I groaned.
Carlos gave me a pleading look. "Karen, I've never asked you for a thing for myself, have I ?"
He hadn't.
"And now, I want you to do this for me. I want to play that jockey. And we can't do this play without you in it."
