A damsel is rescued, Desdemona gets a new nickname, and Keith gets naked for his art.

Sometimes, life gives you a little bit of a curveball. I went to work as Desdemona, and now I'm in the middle of something, but I'm not sure what.

"I called the police, Desi. They should be here within a couple of minutes."

"Look, this has been a bit of a misunderstanding. I'll just take my daughter. . ."

"NO!!!" Save me Dizzy!" She clung to me frantically. I had no idea what to do, but I wouldn't let her get hurt.

"Sir, I understand what you're saying, but I need you to step outside of the store. You're upsetting her, and we can get this sorted as soon as the cops arrive."

In the course of a week, I'd gone from being questioned by the police, to needing them desperately.

"Give me my daughter, Bitch."

"Sir, that's no way to treat a lady!"

He turned around and then looked down. Davey was standing next to him. "This mook giving you trouble, Boss-lady?"

"Yes, Davey, but we've already called the police."

The guy had tried to sneak around me while I'd been talking to Davey, but the girl was too smart for him. She kept me between the two of them.

Yancey walked up to him, "Sir, I suggest you leave the store if you know what's good for you."

"Clear a space, People!"

They turned around and the police walked in. It was the same two from the hospital. Oh crap. . .but wait, they only knew me as Keith.

"Sir, could you step outside with me, please?"

"I don't want to leave my daughter alone."

"Your daughter appears to be afraid of you. I would like you to step outside please."

"I forbid you from questioning her without me present. It's against the law!"

"Sir, I don't have to have you present to question her as a witness. Unless you're saying she has done a criminal act. I mean, she's only six or seven."

Reluctantly, the man followed the taller of the two out of the shop.

"Hi there. I'm Harold Timmons. What's your name?"

"Are you really a police man?"

"Yep, here's my badge, but you're too young to look at my gun."

"I'm Celia."

"That's a pretty name. So, Celia, I hear you don't want to go home with your Dad. Could you tell me about it?"

"He has lots of rules for me to follow. Like when I can eat and sleep. What I can wear at home."

"So, when can you eat?"

"Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Do you get enough to eat then? Three meals can be a lot."

"I'm hungry a lot though."

"We can have a doctor check you out."

She went white and tried to hide under my skirt. It took a moment or two to coax her out. "Doctors help you."

"That's what Daddy said, but the doctor he brought hurt me."

"Where did he hurt you."

"Down here," she pointed to her belly and legs, "he had a big silver thing that he used. He said all big girls need checkups."

I was about to say something, but the Harold looked at me. He was angry, and doing his best to keep a happy face on for Celia. It looks like I might have misjudged him.

"Dispatch" he said into the radio on his shoulder.

"Go ahead."

"I need to get a child to a hospital for a full physical including x-rays. Possible abuse."

"I'll send out a bus to pick her up. unless you want to take her in your car."

"Celia, would you like to ride in a police car, or an ambulance?"

"Ambulances are for sick people."

"Right you are, Celia. Dispatch, I'm taking her in my car. Do you want me to go to UVRMC or Timpanogos."

"I'll let UVRMC know you're coming."

"So, you ready to go?"

"Only if Dizzy can come with me."

Harold looked at me, "Dizzy?"I

"It's Desdemona, actually, but my friends call me Desi."

"Got it. So, mind coming to the hospital with us?"

I looked at Yancey, "Oh, go on. You were about done with your shift anyway."

"Thanks, Yance."

Celia latched onto my hand and wouldn't let go. We went out the back way, to avoid her father.

Celia and I got in the back of the squad car, and were driven to the hospital. We followed Harold in, and at reception he was directed to take her to radiology. We went there and a nice lab tech took her x-rays. They did all the major bones, and the skull. They probably had no idea what they were looking for.

"Ok, they want her in room 305. Do you need directions?"

"I know where it is. Thanks." Harold said. He lead us to the room. When we entered, Harold said, "I'll go ahead and wait outside."

"This is different from the last time. Daddy had the doctor come to his house."

"Isn't it your house too?"

"I live with Mommy, but I had to stay with Daddy today. Mommy and Daddy don't live together anymore."

The door opened, and a doctor walked in. "Hello, ladies."

Celia began to scream. The doctor turned to run out of the room as Harold was trying to come in. He held onto the doctor while I tried to calm her.

"What's wrong, Celia?"

"You lied to me, you told me this doctor would be different. It's the same man."

"I really didn't know, sweetie. It's Ok. We didn't know who your doctor was. Officer Harold will take him out. It's ok sweetie."

She clung to me and cried. I had no idea what to do with kids. I tried to comfort her, but she just cried harder. She climbed into my lap and put her arms around me. I put my hand on her back and did my best to make her feel safe.

A female doctor came in a few minutes later.

"Hello, Celia, My name is Patricia. Want to turn so I can see your pretty face?"

Celia peeked around at the woman. "There it his. Well, Celia, I need to check you out, and I'm sorry, but I have to look at your private bits. Is it ok with you if I do that?"

Celia made a slight nod. "Are you her mother?"

"No, just a stranger, actually. I'm Desdemona." I held out my hand limply to shake.

"I heard that you lived in Colorado."

I blushed, "no, I live in Utah."

"Prove it. You may look like her, but just about anyone could be under that makeup."

I showed her my ID.

"Here I expected you to sing. You're name is legally Desdemona?"

"Legal alias."

"Well, I would have preferred you to sing."

"Autograph instead?"

"I have nothing for you to sign."

"How about the inside of your lab coat."

"Why not," she said with a bemused grin.

"Celia, could you sit on the table for a moment for me? Here, hold my purse and the cap of the pen for me, ok?"

She smiled at the responsibility, and sat there perfectly straight. Patricia handed me her lab coat. ^#40Because you wanted me to sing, Desdemona.

"Ok, so I really believe you now. That is definitely a Desdemona autograph."

I chuckled at this.

"Sorry for the distraction, Celia."

"Is Dizzy a famous clown?"

"Well, she's a famous singer who wears clown makeup sometimes."

I retrieved my stuff from Celia while they talked.

"Now, I'm going to have to ask Dizzy," Patricia smiled as she said this, "To leave for a bit, is that ok?"

"Yeah, you're nice. You won't hurt me, will you?"

"I'll try my best not to. I'll tell you if it might hurt a little, ok?"

Celia nodded, but with a worried look on her face. "I'll be right outside, ok?"

She smiled at me, and I left.

The officer was no longer outside, and I wondered if he'd taken the doctor into custody. Some things I didn't need to know. I looked at the door to the exam room. Some things I didn't want to know.

After ten or so minutes the door opened behind me, and a Celia missile shot out and clamped onto my leg. The doctor came out behind her, "do you know where the officer went?"

"I don't. No one was out here when I got out."

"Ok, go ahead and wait in the room while I find out what we need to do with Celia."

"The nice doctor lady said you sing."

"Yep."

"Do you know muffin man?"

I sang that for her, and a couple of other songs. She liked my farmer in the dell, especially when I put an elephant on the farm.

"Elephants belong in circuses, not on farms."

"Why not? Maybe the farmer always wanted an elephant."

"Silly, Dizzy."

We laughed a bit, and Doctor Patricia came back. "A woman from DCFS is stopping by. We're going to be taking Celia to her Mom's house for the time being. Her father is apparently being booked as we speak, as is Doctor Platt."

I didn't want to know. I didn't ask.

A severe looking woman in a gray business suit entered the room. "Let's get you home, Celia."

No introduction. Oh, well.

"Can Dizzy come with us? I want to show her my house."

"Sure, as long as it's alright with Dizzy."

"It's Desdemona." I said extending a hand.

"Hope." She said extending hers.

I bit my tongue to prevent saying something about the irony of such a dried up old prune being called "Hope". You always envisioned someone in blond pigtails and the blush of youth.

I guess even hope grows old eventually.

We drove into Orem and up to a fair sized house on a hill overlooking the scenic Movies 8 cinema. Celia practically dragged me to the house.

A pretty woman in her early twenties opened the door after what seemed like forever. She was wearing a pair of cutoff sweats as shorts and a damp tee shirt. "Celia! What are you doing home."

Hope spoke, "Your ex-husband has been arrested, so we're bringing her home. We suggest you don't allow him to be alone with Celia for the time being."

"Arrested?"

"Daddy hurt me, Mommy, and Dizzy saved me."

"Dizzy?"

"Desdemona," I said, "I go by Desi with my friends, and so she thought it was Dizzy. I'm fine with it."

"A little early for Halloween, isn't it?" The woman scowled at me when she said this.

"Ms. Desdemona is a minor celebrity of some sort. A rock star I believe."

Her attitude changed completely at Hope's dry words. She looked like she wanted to protect her daughter from me now. I just shook my head. "Nice meeting you, Ma'am. Sorry it was under these circumstances."

She looked mollified a bit, and opened her mouth to speak a couple of times before saying, "Look, I'm sorry. Ever since he left me for a younger woman, I've been worried about the female role models my ex has been introducing to my daughter. You seemed to be the worst of my nightmares come true."

"Look, ma'am. I didn't ask for this. Your daughter picked me to help her. I did what I could. We both know that this world can be a scary place. I'm just glad she was able to reach out to anyone."

"What's your name again?"

"Desdemona."

"Desdemona, look, I'm sorry. I should have been more grateful to have my daughter safe, it's just that I wasn't expecting anyone and well, um. I'm still trying to adjust to what's going on. . ."

She blushed bright red.

"Celia, you want to sing the farmer and the dell some more while Mommy cleans up a bit?"

"Mommy looks clean, she even has bubbles behind her ear."

She blushed even redder at this and brushed her hand through her hair. She missed the bubbles.

"She needs to clean up the house a bit, Doll."

"I can help."

"Celia, not this time, but I think we might convince Hope to sing with us, and after the house is clean, she needs to leave."

"Can you really sing?"

She sat down on the porch with us while Celia's Mom went in to "Clean up"

If anything she was a better singer than I was, and I was supposed to be able to sing for my supper.

She added in bunnies. She made a sound like a dog, which got Celia giggling.

"Bunnies don't bark."

"How about meow. They can meow, right?"

"NooOoo! They don't meow." Celia giggled at her.

"Well, smarty pants, what sound does a bunny make." I asked.

She twitched her nose.

"That's not a sound."

"Just cause you aren't listening right, doesn't mean it's not a sound."

Out done by a six year old. Girls must cheat.

We were all giggling like school girls when her Mom came back. "Mommy!!"

Her mother had tears in her eyes when she hugged her. Well, better late than never.

"Mrs. Connors, I'll be stopping by on Monday to check that everything's alright, is that ok?"

"I went back to my maiden name of Wells. Yes, stop by anytime."

"See you Monday, Ms. Wells."

After the door closed, I turned to Hope. "Think I could get a ride to the Mall. My girlfriend's car is there and I need it to drive home."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yep." I thought for a moment of what I could have said instead:

"Hi, my name is really Keith. I dress like this because I sing soprano."

"I never would have guessed. You look so natural."

"I've had some good teachers. Two of my friends are transgendered." and so on.

"Yep, I can drop you off there." She was oblivious to my internal byplay, thankfully.

We arrived at the mall. "Look, I know this is a weird request, but I like to have autographs of all the famous people that I meet during the course of my work. Would you mind?"

She pulled out an oversized autograph album. Some of the pages had phone numbers on them, and I figured I might as well. ^#41I hope my music can be as helpful as you are, Desdemona 435-555-1267

As I sat down in Gretchen's car, I grabbed a pad of paper I stashed under the passenger seat. I jotted down the words that ran through my head. I had another verse for "Don't Blame the Girls." I felt there was still a piece missing.

I drove home, thinking about everything that had happened today.

When I got home Gretchen yelled for my attention, "Keith, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Come here quick."

I went up to her room, where she was relaxing in bed with her laptop on a cooling pad. "Apparently there's a betting pool about what the text for your 42nd autograph is going to be."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, what have they got?"

"Thanks for life the universe and everything. . .It's just another number. . .Doctor Who did it better. . .Here's for you, Mr. Robinson. . .and a lot of stupid ones."

"Jeeze, people, life is not a Douglas Adams novel."

"You should do that one."

"What, really?"

"Yes, that and I put up a hundred dollars on it half an hour ago. I never thought it would win, but I wanted that up there."

I chuckled at that. "I'm going to sign my guitar with that. Be right back."

I started with the Marker. ^#42Life is not a Douglas Adams novel, Desdemona. I considered prettying it up a bit, but that wasn't the way my signatures went. I put a lacquer over the top to keep it in place and went inside to let it dry.

I talked with Gretchen a bit, and then went downstairs to take pictures to upload to the site. I used the DesdemonaUpInFlames login.

I logged into the forums, and posted the pic in the #42 thread: Hey guys. Heard about this contest, so thought I'd put in my two cents worth.

I posted a picture of my guitar and logged off.

I lay in bed next to Gretchen and we talked until we fell asleep.
***
We were watching a broadcast of the tape of the Sarah Carerra press conference. I was getting more and more angry, the longer that it went on. How could anyone have done that to a sweet young girl like that. I was well and truly steamed by the end.

I'd caught his name as Brady, but didn't hear anyone mention his last name. I went online and did a search for Brady and Sarah Carerra and found a news article titled, "Brady Townsend fired for Sarah Carerra harassment."

Well, I now had a name. I grabbed a sheet of paper, and finished the song. I had all of it now. I had "Don't Blame the Girls." and now I just needed to get it online.

I didn't need any money for this one. It would make me feel like an accomplice to all of the hate.

I called up Richard, "I need a video camera and Guthrie and Davey. We have a response to the Sarah Carerra press conference to get online."

"Ok, Meet at Gretchen's?"

"Yes."

I spent the time waiting running through the music. Each of us had our part, and we would do this in a single take. No special editing, or anything else to detract from the message. I realized I was still in Keith mode, so I ran upstairs. "I need something for this song, Etch" I handed her the page with the lyrics on it.

"Third from the right should be a perfect dress."

The dress had a square neck line and was perfectly white. I was knee length on me. I wore my ballet flats, and my hair of course. I wore muted makeup.

Gretchen carefully came over and sat on the stool next to mine. "We should probably thin your eyebrows for this one."

I had a moment of panic. This would not be something I could hide easily.

"Without the normal makeup to minimize them they stand out a bit. It will help feminize your face a bit."

I took a deep breath and sighed. "Go ahead."

She carefully plucked my eyebrows and I was left with a very feminine visage looking out of the mirror. I just hoped they grew back or it would be fun going back to school.

She finished and I was heading downstairs when the doorbell rang. It was Guthrie. "Keith?! Wow, you look so different."

"I know. We need a more innocent look for this one. It is a different song than we usually use."

"Well, the guys are in the garage, setting up."

I went out. Richard had hired a full camera team. They had lights and a boom mic, and a full studio camera. Well, as long as we could afford it, I was fine."

"You ready for this, guys?"

Davey answered for all of us, "Yep. You lead."

"We have a slight addition to the song. I added a vocal bridge of sorts." I played through it a couple of times, and Davey and Guthrie figured out their parts. We practiced the song a dozen times, and then it was show time.

The red light came on the camera, and I began speaking: "There are people in this country who feel that just because we are in the public eye, that our entire lives are fair game. We are treated with derision and scorn because of our chosen careers.

"We are also looked down upon because we are women. I've got news for you: about fifty percent of the world is women. We nurture and raise. Many of us live the lives of second class citizens. We persevere.

"Over the past week, I was introduced to three women whose lives have been made harder by the choices of others. You all know one of them, as she was hounded this morning by people who should have known better. Two others have suffered worse fates.

"Sometimes, emotion speaks loudly to me, as it did in this case. I wrote a song, to let out that emotion so that it didn't choke me. It is what I really have to say on the subject."

The song began, and it, as always, reminded me of "100 years" with a blues bass and percussion.

Don't blame the girl,
It's not her fault,
This is her life, and it is hard
You hate your life, so I can see
Just don't take this out on her, or me!
We live your rules,
Not by our own,
Don't blame the girls
It's not our fault.

When she was just seventeen
She turned you down, where you were seen
You made her pay,
Hope killed through pain.
Spoken: She asked you more than once to simply turn away

Don't blame the girl,
It's not her fault,
This is her life, and it is hard
You hate your life, so I can see
Just don't take this out on her, or me!
We live your rules,
Not by our own,
Don't blame the girls
It's not our fault.

Another girl, was in the mess
Her life in public's view was lived to entertain us
You tore her wounds
You showed the world
Spoken: How dare you do this to an innocent like her!

There was more power to this new section, for a moment, I left "100 years" behind, and it was all rock ballad.
We live in pain, to bring new life
We are your daughter, your mother, your wife!
You put us down, you cause us strife
It is your fault, not ours, you see
how can you blame us for your bigotry

Don't blame the girl,
It's not her fault,
This is her life, and it is hard
You hate your life, so I can see
Just don't take this out on her, or me!
We live your rules,
Not by our own,
Don't blame the girls
It's not our fault.

One other girl, she was so young
She wasn't old enough to know why you had come
Innocence you kill
For your short thrill
Spoken: How could the one who made her feel safe do this to her.

Don't blame the girl,
It's not her fault,
This is her life, and it is hard
You hate your life, so I can see
Just don't take your hatred out on her or me!
We live your rules,
Not by our own,
Don't blame the girls
It's not our fault.

Spoken: Don't you dare to blame the girls for what is truly only your own fault.

"Thank you."

The camera crew was a bit choked up, and I think I might have been crying at the end. I know my voice cracked and there were tears on my face, but I have no idea where they came from. For a moment, I wasn't myself. I was just those three hurt girls.

One of the guys ran over to the big van that the camera cables ran into. A couple of minutes later he emerged with a CD.

"We were told you wanted to upload this to YouTube?"

"Yes."

"Ok, there are two files on here. One is a high quality original, and the other is for YouTube. Richard said he might want to do something with the high quality version."

Ok, I wanted no profit from this. I called up Richard. "I thought we agreed no profit. I do not want to make money on suffering."

"I know, that's why we are donating all of our proceeds from the sale of the video to Safe Passage Home."

"Is it a good charity?"

"Yes, and it helps battered women, so it fits with the message of your song. I figured that this would be the best way to make sure everyone knew you were serious. The text actually says that $0.57 of every sale goes to the charity."

"That's all our profit, so I guess that works for me."

"I knew you'd see it my way."

We uploaded the song, and I went and talked with Gretchen. We sat there on her bed and talked about the wedding, and other things. We laughed and enjoyed each other's company. "I love you, Etch."

"I love you too, Keith. Why don't we make it a double wedding?"

"Wait, what?"

"I'm not sure that Jordan would mind. And you are legally an adult. . ."

"I don't think that means I can get married without my Mom's consent before I'm 18."

"But. . ."

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"I mean I really love you. You and no one else. There is no one in this world I would rather spend my entire life with."

"I know."

"Then have patience. I'm still in high school. You're not even legally female yet."

"Yes I am. Dad and I got the court order signed before my surgery, so all it needed was the surgery attested to by a surgeon. I got my new birth certificate today."

I smiled at her and kissed her, "That's wonderful!"

"So, will you marry me."

I hugged her to me, and held her. "Etch, I can't. Not yet. We're not ready yet."

"But, I need you. I know you want to wait, and figured. . ."

I chuckled a bit, still holding her. "Honey, if it means this much to you, and you can convince your father not to kill me, we can consider other options. I will not, however, marry you till I'm 18 at least, and I would prefer to wait until then. Call it my upbringing peeking through."

"You're being so girly about this. Isn't it the guy who's supposed to wheedle, and the girl who's supposed to resist?"

"Call it old fashioned sensibilities. I want to do things in the proper order."

"Fine, fine. I'll wait. I'll try. You just get your behind in gear and turn 18, ok?"

"Well, it's not like it's two years away."

"What do you mean? You're still only 16."

"My birthday is in two weeks. That means it is only twelve and a half months 'til I'm 18."

My phone rang. I'd changed the ringer to a polyphonic of "My life with you is Hell" when a call for Desdemona came through. Yeah, they already had them and I was getting no money for them. I thought again I would need to ask Richard about it, and promptly forgot when I heard who was on the other end of the line.

"This is Desdemona."

"Is that legally your name? This is Alecia Moore."

"Yes, it's legally my name. Um, what can I do for you?" I think my awe shone through in my voice.

"Lady, you're famous, just like the rest of us, especially after that YouTube stunt you pulled earlier today."

"It doesn't mean that I can't get a little heroworshipy when someone like you calls me."

"There's the spirit. So, I caught your video, and I have to say that I misjudged you a bit. I heard from your agent that you wanted to play 'You an Your Hand'. I'll let you on one condition."

"Anything."

"I like your spirit, girl. Here it is, as long as you release a recording of 'Stupid Girl' at the same time, you can do 'You an Your Hand'."

"Um, ok. Sure."

"And I have to say, you cost me some money with your #42 stunt. I thought you'd go with Here's for you Mr. Robinson."

We laughed and said good-bye.

Again I had days that were ups and downs, even ins and outs. Why does life have to be like this? Why must it give only to take away. I knew that little Celia would bring with her those things that were done for the rest of her life. It half made me wish I'd told her I was really a boy. Something that could remind her later that not all men would be like her father.

I sat down on the bed next to Gretchen and told her that we could sing the Pink song I wanted, and now had an additional song. So, I had a total of seven songs now for a future album.

"So, what's the big plan next, Keith? Where do you take the band from here?"

"I don't know. I spent so much time trying to get to this point, that I have no idea where I want to go. Maybe I should contact Spotlight Studios again, and see if they are still looking for someone with my talent."

"You've done ok with yourself so far."

"I'm only just beginning to realize everything that a big label does for you. They would have handled the problem with iTunes, and I would never have lost money over it. I would never have had to deal with the guy back east, since I would have already been signed."

"They wouldn't have protected you from your band breaking up."

"True, some things you still have to deal with yourself."

"What's wrong with contacting Spotlight? They wanted you before."

"Maybe I should."

She grabbed my phone from my hand, "Hey."

I didn't want to hurt her, so she easily kept the phone away from me as she dialed.

"Uncle Richard? Can you set up a meeting with Spotlight Studios and Up in Flames? Yeah, Keith was dithering about it."

"I don't dither."

"Yep, that's what he said. Ok, I will. Love ya."

"He said he'd contact them on Monday."

I snorted. Well, life with Gretchen was never dull. "What was that for? You know you needed to do it," she said reacting to my snort.

"I know. It's just that I was never sure if I could face them. They were the ones who put the idea for this in my head. It sort of feels like signing with them would be a big 'I told you so.'"

"So, what of it. Keith, you are a special person. It's really time to get out there and show the world."

"Fine," I said grimly.

"That's not what I like to hear. You need enthusiasm."

I put on a big cheesy grin, "That would be super swell, Gretchen." I might have even swung my arm around.

"That's the spirit." We laughed about this, well, she giggled more than laughed.
***
Church on Sunday, and the next thing I knew, it was Monday, and I was off to work again. I won't bore you with the details. I'm sure some of you have had experiences in the retail industry. The rest aren't missing anything.

I wore the tulip skirt again, this time with a pair of wedge sandals. I wore a black turtleneck on top, though, since I think the poncho thing would be way too revealing for work. I was walking out the door when I realized it had been more than four weeks since I got my ears pierced. The earrings seemed a part of me, and I almost felt bad about it. I changed them for a pair of Gretchen's studs. I could still wear the others on more "Formal" occasions.

My ear's felt light without the earrings, but I would not miss getting pink hair stuck in them for the time being. I wondered if I shouldn't get a longer haired look. Unfortunately, how do you go from having an A-line cut to long hair overnight without people knowing it's a wig.

More signatures today. People have heard that I work here, so I am being inundated by requests. Apparently Yancey is happy with it, especially since we started carrying the knockoff Desdemona earrings. Apparently sales are up almost 20% over this time last year. Not sure it that's god or not. Like I said, she's happy.

So, I'm signing #67, trying to decide how to avoid #69 when I get a call from Richard.

"Spotlight wants to meet with you and the band. They really want to meet with you and the band."

"Ok, well, I get off here at 6:30. . ."

"No, you don't understand Desi. They have rescheduled other clients, and have an opening for you in about forty minutes."

That was barely enough time to get there from here. Barely.

"Yance, I gotta run. Apparently I have a meeting with Spotlight Studios."

"Go, then. Go. This is more important that my store."

I gaped at her.

"You may have noticed that I actually only have you in here for publicity. You are extra to what we need."

I had wondered why there seemed to be an extra person in the store.

"I love ya, Desi, but this is your time. Go, before I fire you," she said with a wink.

I went out the back and hopped in Gretchen's car. I drove up to the building where Spotlight was located in Salt Lake. Luckily, there was a parking garage around the corner. I took of my wedges and ran barefoot with them in my hand. No nylons or tights today.

I entered the front door, and for the second time in my life, the larger than life Spotlight logo was in front of me. It reminded me a bit of the 20^th Century Fox movie logo, but it was just against a cloudy sky. That and there was only one of the spotlights, not two.

Richard, Guthrie and Davey were waiting for me in the lobby. A man I had never met before was there as well.

"Desdemona, meet Lance Praetor."

"Nice of you to make it, Desdemona."

I glanced at my watch and noticed that I was about ten minutes late.

"Traffic was backed up a bit, and I was in Provo when I got the call."

"Excuses have no place in this business."

"Look, Mr. Praetor, I appreciate that you took the time to meet with me this afternoon, I really do, but I have a life which precluded me from sitting around on my butt all day waiting for you to call me."

"You said she had spunk, Richard. I see you were right. If you'll all follow me?"

I blinked a couple of times and then followed the guys back into the inner sanctum of Spotlight.

In contrast with the other studios I'd visited recently, this was a multi-storey affair, with offices on the ground floor and the recording studios above. He led us into a conference room. He shut the door behind us.

"Desdemona, I'm about to tell you something that I didn't tell Richard on the phone. We know that you're Keith Robison."

"Mr. Praetor, let me. . ."

"Wait a moment, Keith, I'm the one needing to explain. We kept a recording of your demo tape. I had the voice print analyzed against your new songs. I thought that your situation was poorly handled in the past, since I am sure we could have, I mean I am sure we can market you as a soprano male singer. Sure, it's different, it's weird, but so are you. In a good way."

I was completely stunned into silence by this. Was all of this I had gone through pointless? Who was he to the company?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Praetor, but do you have that much pull?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, let me properly introduce myself. Hi, I'm Lance Praetor, CEO of Spotlight Productions."

I sat down, hard. I think Davey fainted. I couldn't see him from where I was sitting, but I heard a quiet thump. "What are you saying, Mr. Praetor," asked Guthrie, who was the first one to find his voice.

"What I'm saying is this: We say that Desdemona was a Ziggy Stardust persona of Keith Robison. He used it to introduce people not only to his singing, but his acting talent. Spotlight also has a movie production company called Spotlight Films.

"You would be the star of the hour, Keith. You have passed as female in the midst of other people, not only that, you passed as a specific female. I also know that you've done it before on stage, and that you generally get leading roles when you try out."

"Have you been stalking me?"

"In the industry it's called scouting."

I had no idea what to say. I really didn't.

I put my head in my hands, and my elbows on the table.

"And that's how I knew you were acting. You let the persona drop, and we get Keith in a dress. No self respecting girl would sit like that."

I sat up straighter immediately, and put my knees together.

"And just like that back in character. You're the closest to a natural born actor I have ever met."

I had felt so much pressure to conform, was that all this was. My friends wanted to succeed, but one had abandoned me, and the other was in jail. Should I give this up? Should I just go back to being Keith?

"Keith, before you tell me anything, let me make one thing absolutely clear. We want you no matter the terms. If that means we only get Desdemona the singer, then ok. If we get Desdemona as a singer and an actress, that's fine too.

"Personally, I hope we get Keith, since there is so much more possibility there."

"How much time do I have to decide?"

I could tell he was a bit shocked. I guess for most guys it would have been an easy decision. Most guys would never have had to make it in the first place. Well, it was becoming obvious that I wasn't most guys. I still thought of myself as male however, and wondered at my reticence.

"Mr. Praetor, I have my girlfriend to consider. She was the one who suggested this, and partially I keep dressing this way for her. I don't personally know how I feel about it, but I want to talk to her before I come to any decisions regarding my future. I need to know I'm making the right choice."

"You seem very adult for a sixteen year old, Keith."

"Well, Lance, he is emancipated."

"Ok, now I have to have you even more. Really. I hate dealing with children, mostly because of their parents. You tell a parent their child is a star, and most of them think they've won the lottery, and start placing undue stress on their kids. Then they get burnt-out, and they usually never transition into an adult star.

"Ok, sorry, babbling. Let me leave you here for a bit. I have some other things I can take care of. I'll be back in thirty minutes to an hour. Will that be enough time?"

"If it's not, then the answer will be a no, but I think I will be able to figure something out. I owe these guys."

He walked out and I called Gretchen.

"Etch, I have some weird news."

"Did you sign with Spotlight, Desi?"

"That's the weird news, they want to sign Keith." It sounded like the line went dead. "Etch?"

"I'm still here. Just waiting for the punch line."

"No, it's true. They want to sign me as a singer, and want to also employ me as an actor."

"Just Keith?"

"Or Desdemona, or both. They want me to make a decision."

"Do you get to be an Actress if you're Desdemona?"

"Yep."

"Wow, I don't know what to say."

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. I had to ask it, "Etch, do you like me better as Desdemona?"

"Keith! How can you ask that?"

"Etch, I love you no matter what. I need to know, though. Do you like me better as Desdemona?"

"Well, it's not that simple. I mean. . ."

"Etch, just yes or no please."

"I can't. . ."

"Etch, yes or no!"

"Yes, damn it. I like you as Keith, but I love you as Desdemona. I love the thought of taking off your clothing and finding a boy underneath. I like the way you look in makeup, and the way you make me feel when you look at me in those clothes. Keith would never have kissed me, because he was too scared."

"I'm the same person, Etch."

"No, you're not. Not to me."

"Etch, stop and listen to me a moment." I could hear her sobbing into the phone. This hurt me. What could I tell her. How did I tell her that. . .but that's not true is it. I really didn't mind wearing this clothing, or this hair. It'd always loved wearing makeup. I loved putting on new roles with a few swishes of a brush.

I loved being anyone but me.

"I love you. I don't know how healthy it is, but I'll be Desdemona for you always. She is simply girl me, though, and always has been. I have no change in personality. I would have kissed you as Keith, it just would have taken me longer."

"I'm sorry I said that, Keith. You pushed it out of me. I love Keith too. I really want you to take me right now. I like kissing Desdemona, but when you are with me, physically, I want it to be Keith, always. If that means you need to sign the contract as Keith, do that for both our sakes."

"Thanks, Etch. That helps clarify things for me."

I was crying a bit when I hung up, but I was not sad. I knew what I needed in my life.

I'd told a slight lie to Gretchen. I knew I probably never would have kissed her without Desdemona. It was the look of hunger in her eyes that pushed me over the edge, and Keith never got that.

I had told her the truth though, when I said Desdemona was me. It wasn't like any other role I'd ever played. I didn't need to remember lines. I just spoke as myself, just a little more feminine.

The last thing I needed to consider however, was more serious. Would Keith disappear if I kept presenting to people as Desdemona? I know that I never worried about Desdemona disappearing. She was always there for me to put on. Would Keith become the same, only in reverse? Would Desdemona become the default, with Keith a role I played occasionally?

Was a role more than the clothing that you wore, or the gender that you presented?

Sitting demurely, I turned to the other three in the room, "What do you guys think?"

"Frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a damn."

We laughed for a moment at Davey's quote, and I had to put in my two cents, "The line is 'my dear,' not 'Scarlett.'"

"Never watched that one. I prefer how Tim Curry said the line to Clark Gable anyway, so I quoted the movie I saw."

"What?"

"Clue."

I still didn't have one but let it drop.

"All kidding aside, I don't care. You're talented, and I will play drums for you as long as you let me."

"I agree with Davey."

"It's really your decision, but as your agent, I have to say it would be easier for you to sign as Keith. Less stress."

But it was fun too. I loved playing with male fantasies. It was empowering in a way. I knew I was a boy, and they didn't. Did that make me a tease? Did I really care?

I loved the way that Jake's eyes would glaze over at the thought of Desdemona and Gretchen making out. It made me feel sexy and wanted, and that made me want Gretchen, strangely enough.

I had made it this far without a major crisis of faith, but would it continue?

"I need a paper and pen, now."

It took me thirty minutes to write.

I looked over the lines of my new song, and realized that I was not writing songs for a boy to sing. I was writing songs for Desdemona to sing.

Mr. Praetor walked in at that moment.

"So, have you made a decision?"

"We can reserve bringing Keith out into the world for when people discover my secret. It will happen eventually. Until then, I want to perform as Desdemona alone."

"And Acting?"

"No one ever said that Desdemona couldn't act." I tossed on a southern belle accent for the fun of it, "Why, Mr. Praetor, I do believe that we have some business to conclude."

"I thought you'd say that, and I brought two contracts for you. The first says we are signing Desdemona as a singer and occasional actress. The second states that Desdemona is an Alias of one Keith Robison and that Spotlight signed him to play the role of Desdemona on stage."

"You sneaky bastard. You knew I would decide this way all along."

"Nope. I have a third contract in here for just Keith alone. I covered my bases."

We all laughed at this. Then the three of us signed contracts with Spotlight Productions. Just like that, Up In Flames was represented.

"So, what's first? A local concert?"

"Actually, we have you booked for Saturday Night Live on, you guessed it, Saturday."

"No way!"

"Dude. . ."

"What!?"

Guthrie, Davey, and I all answered simultaneously. I was the incredulous one. It was Davey's dude of course.

"How did you know we would call you?"

"Actually, I called Richard on Saturday telling him that we were interested in signing Up In Flames and had already booked you for SNL. If you'd watched you would have seen yourselves announced as the band."

I looked at Gretchen's uncle and wanted to strangle him.

"I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."

"Ok, I enjoy the surprise. Tell me about it beforehand next time."

We all laughed at the irony of that statement.

"Richard faxed me the terms of your use contracts for 'Bodies,' 'Just a Girl,' 'You an Your Hand,' and 'Stupid Girl.' We'll renegotiate for 'Bodies,' but the rest will let you record with us. So, with those four, and the four songs Keith wrote. . ."

"Um, well, it is four, but were not including 'Don't Blame the Girls.'"

"What?"

"I wrote another song while waiting for you to get down here."

"Ok. We can release a light first album with that, unless you can get another few songs written and recorded in the next week. We want to be able to get the CDs into production as soon as possible, so we want to get all eight songs recorded before Thursday."

"Why Thursday?"

"You fly out Thursday morning for New York. So we have til Wednesday night."

"Yes, but why Thursday?"

"You have a sound check on Friday morning, so we wanted you to get there on Thursday, and the best fare is if you leave Thursday morning."

Three days to get eight songs perfect for an album. I suddenly felt under the gun. It was Monday already. Our other recordings were a bit amateur. These would need to be as good as we could make them, and we needed to learn 'Stupid Girl,' 'What You See (Is What You Get)' and 'I'm My Own,' and they needed to learn 'Just a Girl,' and 'Bodies.'

"You have a studio for us already?"

"Yep, and a producer and sound tech."

"Let's get to it then. . .oh crap, my 12 string."

"We have one for you here. It is in the studio already, and tuned to your preference."

Any minute now I was going to wake up and this would be a dream. Any moment. Sure, long dream sequence for me, but it had to be a dream, right? Nothing like this ever happens to me.

We went up into the studio. The sound tech came in and adjusted our microphones and positioned my stool. We each put on a pair of headphones, which he would use to communicate with us. The producer took the microphone in the control booth and addressed us. "My name's Brad. We have a ton to do and no time to do it in. I've heard good things about you three, so let's see if it plays out. Any preference on what we hit first?"

"Well, they need to learn a couple of songs still."

"Well, hopefully this doesn't turn into a shambles then. Well, get to it. Learn your little songs while losing the company money."

Ok, that was a relief. This would likely be real then, since this guy was turning into a real pain in my. . .

"Ok, let's go through the new one, 'What You See.'"

It was almost pop, but with a darker undertone. The first half of the verse was Major key, and then the second repeated in a Minor key tossing a surreal bent to the lyrics and sound. Then there was a sort of reboot into the chorus, and a repeat for the second verse. Then we go into the chorus a second time, and finally, end with the first part of the first verse repeated into obscurity.

It was like nothing I remember hearing, and sort of sounded like a calliope in need of a backup generator. The first part runs smooth, and then the batteries run down a little as it becomes too much to bear to show this happy persona to the world, even while saying that there is nothing underneath.

We practiced it for over two hours, and something just didn't feel right about it. Something was off.

"Guys, this isn't working for me. I like the lyrics, the tune is just too weird."

"Wait, one more go, I have an idea."

I described it to the sound tech, and the producer said we could give it a go. We ran through it. This time, the sound tech started with generic vinyl sounds. The hiss and pop of the needle. The played the song slower and then faster in time with the hiss, as it went up and down a bit as if the record could not keep speed. We played normal through the first half of the first verse, and then slowed down with the minor key change.

We adjusted the overall tune to more of a Jazz or Big bands flavor, with an adjustment to the speed.

We played it back, and I got chills. I seemed a ghost of myself, singing from before I was born. It was the weirdest sounding song I had ever heard, I. . .

"Ok, I've changed my mind. You are good. That has to be one of the best ghost stories I have ever heard, and the words aren't even that scary. That song might just give me nightmares."

I realized that was the case. The song was a bit of pop fluff about dancing and wearing hot club clothes. A DJ mix with it would make it perfect. . .but it wasn't played with a dance beat.

The anachronism made it stick to your mind like peanut butter, and you worried it until it broke free, taking a chunk of your sanity with it. It was going to be one of those songs that people either loved or hated. You would not be able to find a middle ground. It was also us in a nutshell.

We went through it three more times, but the first time was the best. I had a feeling it is a song we'd never be able to do justice to live. . .unless. . .I could see the stage setting for it. But that would wait for another day.

"Ok, we spent a lot of time on that. Let's go with 'Stupid Girl' next. I have sheet music for you on the stand. Let's run through it a couple of times. Desi, you'll have to figure an extension on the 6 string part for that one."

This one took a lot less time. We had the beginnings of it in half an hour, and then over the next hour we worked out the kinks.

"Desi, a little less base at that part. Davey, you were a bit behind at the second chorus. Guthrie, come on, get it together. You should be able to at least sight read your music."

"I thought he did pretty well."

"I happen to know he has perfect pitch, so pretty well for the rest of us is not even trying for him."

We did it again. And again. And Again.

"People, you did better an hour ago. What's wrong with you."

"We need a break."

"You can rest when you're dead. And I see three breathers in there, so you're not dead yet."

All three of us busted up laughing at his unintentional almost quote.

That broke the tension, and we got it in another two runs.

"Ok, now that ones in the can, let's do Me an my big mouth."

I think he'd latched onto something. Get us enjoying ourselves, and we would get this done faster.

I considered, briefly, writing some off the cuff lyrics for Me an My Big Mouth. We sang "You an Your Hand" instead.

It seemed that the other two picked things up faster when I already knew my part. My voice cracked in the midst of one of our run throughs.

"Wait a moment, Desi. We've been doing this for about five hours straight. I'll have a gopher get you some water. Any preference?"

"Cold."

"That I can do. Take five."

The three of us collapsed on the couch on one side of the room. I felt a cold plastic bottle shoved into my hand, and looked up to see a pretty brunette walking out the door. I slowly drank the water, and felt a little better, and more ready to go on.

I think I was glistening, since I was in girl mode, but the other two were drenched in sweat. I noticed they both had water as well. We finished them off, and I felt a little better.

We finished it within another half an hour to the producers satisfaction.

"Ok, I'd like to get one more done tonight, then we can go for four tomorrow, and that leaves us Wednesday for touchups and going back over the songs. Since we seem to be on a theme right now, let's hit 'Just a Girl.'"

I had fun with it. It was either that or cry. The song was a romp. Really. It was fun to play and fun to sing. Doing both together was nice.

We worked our way through playing and then I added in the lyrics. We made it through and got done in a very short period of time. I think he was surprised.

"Hey, now if only we could do all the other songs this quickly."

"The other songs we've spent more time practicing. Especially 'My life with you is Hell,' and 'Black Flag.'"

"Maybe. . ."

Three "no"s met his suggestion. "Brad, we're tired, I'm sung out, and we have two days to finish in. If tomorrows a short day, all the better for the three of us. We have a concert to give on Saturday, or the next best thing."

"Ok, get some rest. Please be here at eight." We would have to be back at the studio in just over nine hours. I decided to stay the night in a motel in Salt Lake. The guys lived here.

We got out and something occurred to me. I called Yancey. "So, they signed us, and I have to spend the rest of the week recording an album, and then flying to New York."

"What's in New York?"

"SNL"

"Snails Not Liver? So Not Leaving? Some Norwegian Logger?"

"Saturday Night Live." I sniggered at her.

"Going to a show?"

"Going to be the show."

"You're book for SNL?"

"That's what I said."

"Congratulations. Well, it was fun while it lasted. If the music ever falls through, look me up again."

"Wait. . ."

"You are in the big leagues, or will be soon. And the way you manage your money? I doubt you will want for anything even if you should lose the career."

"Yance."

"Don't Yance me. You're still a great guy. Make sure to invite me to the wedding."

"You know, when you and Gretchen get married. I expect it to be sooner than later."

"I'm only sixteen."

"Could have foooooled me."

"John Barrowman you ain't"

"Still, I expect the announcement sometime in the next year."

"Announcement maybe. I don't plan to get married before I'm 18."

"It's only, what, two weeks before your birthday?"

"Yeah."

"And you'll be sending out invitations one and a half to two months before you get married?"

"Um. . ."

"So, that means you will send out invitations in less than a year if you get married on your birthday."

Crap, now she's put the idea in my head. How do I get it out.

"Talk at you later, Yance."

I called Gretchen next. "I have to be in Salt Lake at eight tomorrow morning, so I'm planning on staying up here, if that's alright."

"You didn't wreck my baby and are just using this as an excuse are you?"

"Nope, we're recording an album."

"That's great!"

"I think so. Anyway. I'll be staying at the best western up here. I will call you when I get to my room."

I drove the three blocks to the motel, and checked myself in. It was not bad for being a chain establishment. It seemed clean at least. I stripped, and cleaned my clothes as best as I could in the shower and sink. I used up most of the shampoo and soap doing that, but at least my clothing would be almost clean. I hung it up to dry and called Gretchen with the motel phone.

"So, guess what?"

"What?"

"All my clothing is drip drying in the bathroom."

"You tease. You'd never be naked in a motel room."

I considered taking a picture of myself, but thought better of it. I was underage, and she was not. It would be considered child porn. Stupid laws.

"I would send you proof, but I don't think you could handle it."

She giggled at that.

We talked until she fell asleep. I hung up and did the same.

Tomorrow, we still had to complete recording on four songs, and I only hope we could finish before something bad happened. We had gotten this far without any serious mishaps, but we would have to wait to see what tomorrow brought. And I was naked, sleeping in a motel room. I only hope that there wasn't a fire or other emergency during the night.