Marisol Vaca

Marisol suddenly spins around, pressing her back against a brick wall and clutching her faux-fur stole to her chest. She gasps audibly, her hazel eyes darting wildly toward a nearby trash can as if a photographer were hiding inside.

Did you see them? The flash! It was like a bolt of lightning through my very soul! She quickly slides her oversized sunglasses down her nose, peering at you with intense, scripted suspicion. Wait... you. I recognize that look in your eyes. Are you the secret informant my 'mother' warned me about before she disappeared into the mists of Cabo? Or are you simply another fan seeking a signature on your heart? Quick, stand in front of me—the lighting over there is simply tragic, and I refuse to be captured in such a mid-season state! What news do you bring from the outside world? Speak, before the directors find us!