In which Gretchen's disappearance becomes known to Keith, he acts out, and a heartfelt conversation is had.

I looked at the caller ID on my phone. It said Out of Area. I thought about it a moment, and then answered the phone.

"Desi, where are you?"

"Richard?"

"Who else?"

"I'm in LA. Mr. Praetor booked me for a screen test here tomorrow, and I came out today to help him sack a screenwriter"

"Ok, well, I wanted to know where you were, as he told me about the screen test tomorrow, and I was beginning to get a bit panicked since your phone has been unreachable all day long."

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it, Desi. Just let me know next time something like this happens."

"Ok, Richard. I'll do my best. Wait, why didn't you call Gretchen and ask her about this."

"I assumed that she was with you, wherever she was. Tom hasn't seen her today. He's worried that she's gone out so soon after her surgery."

I was beginning to get a bit worried myself. "Isn't she answering her phone? I talked to her no more than an hour ago."

"You called her?"

"Yes."

"We've all tried calling her, and you're the only one who's reached her so far."

"Give me a moment and I'll try to call her again."

I ended the call and dialed Gretchen's number. It went to her voicemail, but not to her voice.

"I assume that by now you've discovered my little secret. I have your Treasure, and she's quite the lovely one, isn't she. I can see what you see in her. She's my Treasure for now. When she's gone you and I can be together like we were meant to be."

It beeped and waited for my message.

"Don't you dare hurt her. I don't care where you are, or who you are, but if you hurt her, then nothing will save you from me."

I was angry and scared and a thousand other emotions all at once. I needed to be doing something, but I was in LA and they were back in Utah. What in the world was I going to be able to do from here to resolve this issue.

Molly put her hand on my shoulder, "Desi, are you alright?"

"My girlfriend's been kidnapped by a stalker. I don't know. . .what am I going to do?"

Joe walked over to us, "Is there anything I can do for you?" He looked so sincere and all I could do was laugh. Then it became hysterical and I couldn't stop. I just laughed until I couldn't breathe, and then started up again. Fear gripped me, and I just couldn't stop laughing. I laughed because at that moment I couldn't cry. I held myself and laughed.

"Shh, it's alright, Desi, relax. There are people out there to help. You're not alone. You need to calm yourself."

I finally calmed down enough that I could cry and the floodgates opened. "But it's all my fault, Molly. I didn't tell anyone that I had a stalker, and now Gretchen has been kidnapped. I assumed that someone was playing a joke. I didn't take it seriously, because who else could have known my schedule but my friends?"

I just sobbed there on the sidewalk in front of their door until Mrs. Planning came out to see what the commotion was about. "Come inside you three, and let's get Desdemona all cleaned up."

"People she knows call her Desi, Mom," Molly said.

I gave her a weak smile, but didn't say anything in reply.

"Ok, Desi, dear. Why don't you come up to the bathroom with me and we'll get you freshened up."

I went up to the master bathroom with Mrs. Planning. It was huge. There was a jetted tub big enough for two people in the corner, and a lot of floor space around it.

"Take off your shirt, dear, it got a little dirty from the sidewalk."

I blushed, but didn't make a move.

"Urban called me before you got here, dear. I know everything so you don't have to worry."

I removed my necklace and then the turtleneck. I almost forgot I'd been wearing the bra. The pink peaking through the black lace was very pretty. The slight shifting when I moved was the only tactile reminder that I was wearing breast forms at all. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to have real breasts, but then pushed that thought aside. I could go that route, like Gretchen did, but I didn't really feel like it was the right one for me. I still didn't know what life would have in store for me, but I knew it wouldn't be that.

Mrs. Planning came back in and handed me one of the shirts that I'd bought today. It was black and had pink sequined hearts on it. Like I said, LA seemed to have a thing with black and pink right now. Or maybe it was just the stores I went to.
I put it on, and only then realized how deep the neck line was. Some of my bra peaked out, let alone my fake breasts.

"No, that won't do. Here, Let me help you a bit. Take off the shirt and your bra."

I did so, and took the breast forms off with it.

"Well, looks like we get to start from the basics. Lucky for you I had a mastectomy."

I looked at her chest, and couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. She had. . .I blushed, realizing what I'd been doing, and looked away.

"It was the left one, and I attach the breast form because it gives me a much more natural feel. Now, these aren't exactly your skin tone, so we're going to have to do a little blending afterward, but it should be okay. They're close enough. Well, let's get the girls attached, shall we?"

"How permanent is this?"

"Not at all. You can peel them off, and it isn't strong enough to let you go braless, but they will move like they're a part of you, and we can use a bit of concealer to blend them into your skin tone."

She glued them in place. "Now, they will stay there, just not if you get too active."

I put on my bra and then she went to work with the concealer. I watched what she did in the mirror. In a couple of seconds, the line between my skin and the forms faded. It still wasn't perfect, but that would have to wait for new breast forms that were made for me. I put the shirt back on, and I was amazed. I actually had breasts. It was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen, and made me uncomfortable.

I took a deep breath, and decided to go with it. I fixed my makeup and hair. My hair. It was so weird having the pink be me, but at least I'd gotten rid of the wig temporarily. Ok, a little more than temporarily.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was feeling better and Gretchen was still missing. I'd completely forgotten about her for a few minutes. "I'm a horrible person."

"What's that, Dear?"

"I'm terrible. Here I was worrying about my appearance when Gretchen has been kidnapped." I started to collapse in on myself, and Mrs. Planning put her hand on my back.

"Desi, there is nothing that you can do for her right now. I'm sure the police are doing everything that they can. . ."

"Wait, there is something that I can do." I pulled out my phone and called Richard. "Richard, I have a stalker, and she, or he, took Gretchen. They delivered some flowers to my room in Salt Lake. I'm sure the room has been cleaned out, but maybe the police can find something there."

I gave him the motel and the room number.

"Thanks, Desi. We'll get that to the police."

"One more thing, Richard, the person who was stalking me knew my schedule yesterday. That means that they probably work for Spotlight."

"Ok, I'll pass that on. Are you coming back?"

"I want to, Richard, but a smart woman out here pointed out to me that there's nothing there I could do. I could be out there pacing and worrying, or I could occupy my time with work. I'm figuring that I need this right now to keep from completely falling apart."

"Ok, Desi. Good luck tomorrow."

"Find her for me, Richard. I can't live without her."

"We'll do what we can. Night, Keith."

We hung up and I wiped away a tear from my eye. Looking in the mirror made me feel better for some reason. "But this isn't me. . ."

"For now, it is, Desi. I know that you're an actress, I mean actor, right?"

"In addition to everything else, yeah."

"You put on the role of Desdemona. She is person that is growing the more that you play the role. Personally, I worry for you, Desi. The longer you stay in role, the more that is going to bleed into your normal life. With something this consuming, you need to decide what parts of the character are your real life, and which parts are only Desdemona."

"My real name is Keith."

"And I'm Candi."

"Candi Planning? Doesn't seem to have the feel of the rest of the group."

"My maiden name is Stripe."

"Is everyone out here insane?"

"There are lots of parents out there with sick senses of humor. I even know a Door and Ding Bell."

I groaned.

"Keith, you're a singer I assume?"

I chuckled at this, "Yes, and my normal range caused the problems I am having."

I gave her a short sample of my range. I had sung since this morning at the studio, but I'd started to miss it all the same. Singing made me feel so alive.

"That's amazingly high for a man. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"You seemed older to me."

"Yeah, a lot of my friends would agree with you. I'm legally emancipated."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, I know what a strength family can be to people. I'm sorry that you're on your own."

"I'm not alone. I have Gretchen and her family. I also have my own extended family, who are kind of pissed at my mom right now."

"What about your dad?"

"I have no idea. He ran away with his boyfriend years ago and I haven't heard anything from him recently."

She smiled kindly at me before continuing, "As I was saying, Keith, decide which parts of you are Desdemona. She has your voice, and your body. What parts of her character are you?"

"Her sense of humor is all me. I loved the irony of being Keith, pretending to be Desdemona, singing 'Just a Girl' and 'You an Your Hand.'"

Candi chuckled at this and shook her head. "Ok, what else?"

"I love jewelry. I always have. Usually I get more masculine styles, but some of it worked with either me or Desi."

"That necklace is definitely not masculine."

"No, but it is like some jewelry that I've seen in the past. I really liked it, but I'd never be able to wear it. A lot of it I bought for Gretchen, so at least I got to wear it second hand, but this time I thought 'why not.'"

I picked up the necklace and looked at it for a moment or two before putting it back on. It slipped between my breasts snd lay there against my skin. I gave a little smile at the image.

"What else is you?"

I looked at Candi's image in the mirror. "The stage makeup, but not the everyday makeup. The clothing is definitely her."

"I assume the hair is her as well?"

"Yes." I was a little worried about the hair. Apparently it had been the stalker, and not Gretchen who'd thought it was a good idea.

"You can always change it later, Keith. Ok, now, let's make you presentable and go downstairs to dinner."

I touched up my makeup and hair. I could do this. Desdemona was an act that I could put on, or take off. It was time to get my own breast forms, though. I needed something that matched my skin tone a little better.

We went downstairs, where Urban, Joe, and Molly had already set the table. It was a different environment than I'd experienced before. There was a sort of friendly competition going on in their words and actions. Nothing unkind, but they all seemed to be trying to get the last word in. . .no that's not exactly it. It was a wordplay. Each person added to it in their own way. There was a lot of laughter and more smiles than I was used to.

I pitched in where I could, but I was way out of my league.

After dinner, I helped Candi in the kitchen. We cleaned and put away the dishes, and before I knew it, I was on my way up to the guest room and to bed.

This definitely wasn't the house that I expected a security guard to live in, but I was too embarrassed to ask. I locked the door and carefully peeled off the 'girls' as Candi had called them. There was still some of the adhesive on my chest, but it rubbed off easily enough. I'd cleaned off my makeup in the bathroom.

I dreamt that night of some faceless shadow chasing me. It was always right behind me. No matter where I went, it would be right there. Eventually I went to the airport and flew away. The shadow told me as it was going out of sight, "I can always find a new playmate if you won't play with me."

I woke up in a cold sweat. Looking at my cell I noticed that it was a couple of minutes after 3 am. My phone was silent. Yesterday the calls had started at three. I tried to go back to sleep, but I just couldn't. I felt words rattling about in my head, and I was about to go out into the house when I realized I was naked from the waist up. I put on one of my new bras and put in the girls, then found a tee shirt that would cover them up. I went in search of a paper and pencil, as the words began to swirl around me. I lost track of time as I wrote down the words that came to me, and it wasn't until Candi came into the dining room at six that I was really aware of my surroundings. It wasn't like my normal compositions. this one wasn't so much a song, as a primal scream. It had no coherent thought to it, which is probably why I hadn't ever finished. The words weren't following me around anymore either.

I went upstairs and put it into my bag, and packed up my clothing and such. I found a bottle of the adhesive in my bag, as well as the concealer that Candi had used last night. I decided that it might be fun to show off a little today at the studio, so I attached my breast forms and then put on a clean bra. I carefully applied the concealer like Candi had the night before. I picked a top that wasn't quite as revealing as the one last night, but you could still see a bit of my cleavage.

I put on my necklace, and called Richard.

"Any news?"

"They've focused on an employee that walked out yesterday. Her address was fake. She was using a stolen identity, so they're only a little closer to figuring out who she really was. Apparently she put surveillance equipment in your room at the motel. They're tracking the purchase of that down as well."

"Thanks, Richard. Call me if anything comes up?"

"Will do, and Keith? Be careful. Whoever this is broke into your motel room, likely while you were there."

"I will, thanks." The thought of this person being so close to me without my even being aware of it sent chills down my back. I decided that it was probably time to get going so I went downstairs.

Urban and Candi were the only ones up. We ate a quick breakfast and Urban drove me to the studio. I left the bag with my clothing in it at his guard post and walked to the building we'd been in yesterday.

Everything inside looked much like it had yesterday, except for the people waiting read. There were a lot of masculine looking women, as well as some young men who I was sure were in drag. What in the world had I gotten myself into this time.

The same woman from yesterday walked up to me. "Desdemona, so nice to see you again. So, Mr. Praetor roped you into this as well?"

"Yes, but this one is supposed to be more of a straight forward reading. No getting anyone fired that I know of. What's your name? If it was mentioned yesterday, I was a bit too distracted to remember, I'm sorry."

"That's perfectly fine, and I'm Wendy. Ok, take these. Unless they are really switching things around on us, you'll be reading the part of Cory."

I looked at her a bit blankly, and something seemed to click in her head. "You have no idea what you're reading for, do you?"

"Is it bad?"

"Depends on your definition of bad. Think of it as a sort of teenage 'Crying Game'."

I had no idea what she was talking about. My continued blank look must have made that clear. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"Ok, so maybe that is a bit dated. Cory is a guy who has been dressing as a girl and going to high school. He's fallen in love with of the guys that he. . ."

"Stop just a minute. Is Cory transgendered or a transvestite."

"Does it make a difference?"

"Of course it makes a difference. A transvestite is a boy in drag. If it's the other, then Cory is a girl trapped in a boy's body."

The woman blinked at me a couple times and then smiled. "I can see why Mr. Praetor picked you. You understand the issues more than most of these girls. Let me go ask the writer and see if he can give me any more information."

I stood there and looked over the lines. At least they seemed a little better than yesterday's. I would be playing the scene where Cory revealed him/her self to the male lead, Mike. Knowing the motivations of the character were even more important than I thought.

A twenty-something man walked over to me with Wendy in tow. He reached his hand out toward me as he approached.

"Alan Braithwate. Even if you weren't famous, I'd like to come over and meet you. You are the first person who actually thought to ask that question. I can tell that really well with all of the transvestites we have to read the role. Cory is transgendered."

"Is she a lesbian, or straight?"

"You really do understand the situation, don't you?"

"Let's just say that I have some friends in the community."

"Who'd have thought? Cory is straight, and really likes this guy. What worries her is that she's found out, in a previous scene, that Mike is a bit of a homophobe."

"Is Cory taking hormones?"

"That's actually a good question, one that I don't have the answer to. I guess she could be getting them illegally."

"Or even legally. Given the right psychologist."

"That's something I didn't even consider. I think you can tell that I don't really have a good grasp of the situation. I'm trying to tell a specific story, but there are parts I simply don't understand. I hope you can at least consult if you don't get the role."

"There are people much more qualified. . ."

"But without the insight into it that you might have. Is it you or someone you know."

Wendi looked completely shocked, and I blushed bright red.

"Female to male then?"

I felt my confidence returning. He hadn't really suspected anything. "No, not me. It's someone else's story to tell, which is why I blushed."

He looked at me quizzically, but let it drop. "This is going to be a long day, and we may need you to read a couple of times. We are trying to cast both roles today, or in the next couple of days at least."

I really hoped it wouldn't take a couple of days for the police to find Etch, but I would be busy if it did. I said a little prayer there, in the middle of the studio, asking that she be returned to me safe and sound.

I was still pleading with my maker when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Wendy standing there.

"Alan wants you to read first. He'd like for someone to set the tone he is looking for."

"Okay. Do I have to sit down for this?"

"Not if you don't want to. They usually like to have people who are reading for a role sit in camera, though. You know, zoomed headshots and all."

"Okay."

I walked over to the chairs in front of the camera and sat down in one of them. I glanced over the paper and prepared myself as best I could.

One of the guys came and sat down next to me, and the way he was looking at me really made me uncomfortable. He'd be making eye contact if my eyes were on my chest. Then something dawned on me and I smirked. He was staring at fake breasts. And he didn't even know it.

"Hi, I'm Desdemona."

"Paul." He said absently. This had to stop. "Look, Paul, I know that you'd like a pair of your very own, but it's embarrassing the way you are staring at them."

He blushed bright crimson and quickly looked up into my face and then away. He took a few calming breaths and then looked back at me.

"Start whenever you're ready."

Paul took a deep breath and then started reading. "Cory, I think. . .I mean I know. . .This is not coming out right."

"Take your time, Mike." I smiled a comforting smile. I could see this situation playing itself out. I'd been on the other end of a not dissimilar situation. I remembered when Etch had told me.

"Cory, we've been dating. . .okay. Look. I love you Cory Matthews."

The smile went away. Sure it was in my role, but his words also pulled me from my reverie of times past. And Cory did like Mike, but was unsure of where this was supposed to be going.

"Mike. . ."

"No, hear me out. You are a special person to me. You've always been special to me. I knew I wanted to be with you from the moment that you first walked into that classroom."

"Mike, I can't. . ."

"I know your parents don't like me, but that can change. I'm willing to help them like me. They don't really know me."

How would I put the next line? It needed some sort of feeling. And confusion was working for me.

"Mike, I really like you. I do. It's just that I'm not ready for this."

"Ready for what? It's not like I'm asking you to have sex with me."

I let my jaw drop a bit, and then closed it with a snap. "That's just it, Mike. There are things you don't know about me. Things you should before anything else happens."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Billy, Mike."

"What does that faggot have to do with us?"

"Everything!"

"You don't like him, do you? He's not even into girls!"

"I'm not a girl!"

Mike stopped in confusion, opened his mouth to speak, stopped again. "Wait, what?"

I turned away from him and tilted my head down. If I still had my longer hair I could have hit my face in it. As it was, all I got was a little half veil. A pink half veil.

"Cory, what are you saying?"

"I'm not real. I thought I could do this, be this, for myself, but I'm not real. I want to be, but I'm faking it in front of everyone. I was born a boy, Mike."

"What the hell is this? You think this is some kind of joke? Do you!?"

I began to cry. It was all acting, but my emotions were really high with all that had happened to me in the last couple of months, and I channeled those feelings into it. Friends in the hospital. Gretchen missing. What was I going to do about that?

"I tried to tell you so many times. I really like you Mike. I do."

I turned toward the actor next to me and reached out my hand. "Don't touch me you faggot. You're a queer just like Billy."

"Mike, please. I'm nothing like him. I've felt like a girl my entire life."

"You're just a pansy then. Get out."

"But Mike, I love you."

"Get the hell out of my house!"

I took a deep breath to cleanse all of that emotion I had been channeling. This was going to be a very long day.

One of the people behind the camera said thanks to us, and I got up and went to the bathroom. I really hoped that Paul got the role, because he'd be fun to work with. Sure he had a tendency to stare at my chest, but when we started reading lines he focused on my face. I had my hand on the door when I paused to think about the thought I'd just had and snorted. They hadn't even offered me the job yet.

I entered the women's bathroom and went to the mirror. I checked the blending on my breasts first, and then spent time touching up my makeup. It had run a little from my tears, but not bad. I was just turning to leave when one of the prettier girls who had been waiting to read came in.

"Are you Okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I've been in too many situations like this recently and it just got to me a little."

"I know auditions can be tough, but you just have to move through it."

"Not that. I have a number of friends in the transgender community."

She blinked at me a couple of times. "Oh. . .So you meant telling your boyfriend that you're not really a girl. . ."

"No, that was my girlfriend telling me she was born a boy. Another friend I know got beat up by her boyfriend when she wanted him to wait until after her surgery before they did anything."

Her mouth dropped open on the first part, and then snapped shut for the second. "I was going to say that I didn't really believe that anyone as pretty as you could have ever been a boy."

I smiled at this. I'd never carried a wallet, and so my information was loose in the purse I had almost forgotten I was carrying. I had to look around a bit before I found a photo of Gretchen.

"This is my girlfriend."

"Wow. . .she's even prettier than you are. And she used to be. . ."

"Yes. I'd appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself. I probably shouldn't have even told you. . ."

"Don't worry about it. Call me Gem. What's your name?"

I shook my head a little bit and then laughed. Apparently there were still people out there who hadn't heard of me. It was a little refreshing actually.

"I'm Desdemona."

"Your name is even weirder than mine. That's so cool."

We hugged. "You don't think it's weird hugging a. . .someone who is dating a girl?"

"I hug guys all the time. It's more fun hugging you, but you're taken." I did a double take and she continued, "Yes, I'm a lesbian." We both smiled at this.

I giggled and we left the bathroom to go wait our turns. About half of the guys in drag had apparently walked out, and some of the more butch women had as well.

The girl who was auditioning was trying to sound more manly. I couldn't believe it. This wasn't farce. This guy didn't know that his girlfriend was anything other than the girl she appeared to be. And yet someone was trying to turn it into something ridiculous.

The rest of the day progressed with more of the same. I would spend hours watching people read in front of the camera, and then be called back to read with a couple of people, and then spend more time waiting again. I spent some time talking to Gem, and really hoped that she got the role. She was celled back about twice as often as I was.

I cried when I felt like it. I allowed the other person to influence how I read my lines. It was some of the most fun that I had ever had. It was only when my phone rang that evening that I even remembered what had happened.

"Desi, they found her. Gretchen is safe."

I was glad that I was sitting down, because I'm not sure that I would have been able to stand.

"Desi, are you still there?"

"I'm here, Richard. She's okay?"

"Well. . ."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Some of her sutures tore, and she lost a bit of blood."

Someone in the room called out "Desdemona?"

"They're calling my name, Richard. I've got to go."

I had no idea how I was going to be able to focus. How had I focused at all the rest of the day? Where had the day gone even? I looked at my phone and saw that it was already six o'clock pacific time.

They called my name again.

"Here," I replied.

"Could we get you to read once more for us?"

I turned to walk back up to the front of the room and promptly tripped over my feet.

There's a game that my friends and I occasionally play. You talk about which celebrities you would go gay for. You know, if they asked you and so on. Ok, so it's kind of a silly game.

It was more a case of an 'if I have to pick' sort of thing for me, since I really couldn't see myself with any guy. Gretchen was the only person I had ever looked at with anything resembling desire.

Until I saw him.

He was the most beautiful man I had simply ever seen. I began to get a little uncomfortable down below as things began to pull, so I began to think about the problems that I'd put Gretchen through the past day or so, and didn't dare look at those lips, or. . .

I blushed a bit and then went and sat down next to him. I had repeated the reading often enough that I didn't need to read from the page any more. The next few moments went by in a dream. I'm not sure what exactly I did, but even after those few lines I felt drained completely, and spontaneous applause erupted from the crew. I looked around surprised at that, since my surroundings had melted away, and it was only in that moment that I realized where I was again.

A lot of the girls and boys who were also reading for the parts clapped as well. Gem was beaming a smile at me. I looked at the boy next to me, and he looked at me with wide eyes. "That was the best acting I've ever seen."

I whispered back to him, "I have no idea what I just did."

"Well, I sure hope you can remember, because they're probably going to give you the role."

I groaned at that, but then the guy chuckled. "Hey, it's not all bad. You'll get to work with me. They told me I got the part about an hour ago. I'm Owen, by the way."

"Desdemona."

"I know. I saw you in Vegas a few weeks ago."

"A lot of people saw the MTV broadcast, but it's good to hear anyway."

"Nah, I saw you perform live. I'm the lead singer of Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools."

Ok, What?! My mind automatically exchanged 'The Bloody Pips,' for my version of their band name 'Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools.' I gave my head a little shake. Who cared what the real name of his band was called. It was not like I was trying to date him or anything.

"So, you're the competition, then, huh?"

"Compared to you, I'm just a poseur. You're the one with talent."

I don't know why this made me blush. I really had to get away from this place, and this person. I needed perspective and some time with Gretchen.

"If I could have everyone's attention please," said the person I assumed was the director, "We're done here for the day, and will be having callbacks next week."

Finally. Now I could, I hoped, get back to Utah and my girlfriend. "Desdemona, could I speak to you for a moment?"

I went over to the director and watched everyone leave for a moment or two while he collected his notes. "To be honest, you're not what we were looking for when we started this process. You seemed a little cold to most of the guys that you were reading with. Sure, there was passion in your voice, but it just didn't read well on the camera.

"With Owen, however, that seemed to change for the better. If you'd like, we want to offer you the role of the leading lady. You don't have to tell us right now, but we need an answer before Sunday evening."

What in the world was I going to do? I didn't want to be an actor.

Or did I? I really didn't know right now.

"Talk it over with your family. Get back to us. I can be reached at the number on the card," and so saying he handed me his business card.

"I understand your hesitation, as this role could cause some serious problems for a beautiful girl like you. . ."

I started to laugh at his assumption. "I'm sorry. I have no problems with the role. I just don't know if I want to be an actress. My contract obligates me to be here."

"Oh, I see. . .well, you're really good at it. Acting I mean."

"Are you sure? That last reading, I wasn't even in the same zipcode. Completely on auto-pilot."

"Then maybe that's all you need, to stop worrying about the role and just do it."

"Thanks for the advice, sir."

"You're welcome, Desdemona."

I went out to the security shack to say good bye to Urban. There was a limo waiting there. When I approached, the back door opened and I saw Mr. Praetor inside. "It seems I can give you a ride to the airport, again, Desdemona."

"Just let me pick up my stuff."

I walked over to the guard shack. "Thank you for everything, Urban."

He handed the bag containing my clothing to me, "I hope they find your girlfriend soon, Desi."

"They found her already. She's okay, so make sure to let Candi know."

"I will."

"Oh, Urban, before I go, can I get your phone number? I really do appreciate what you all did for me, and would love to visit you again the next time I'm in LA."

"Sure, but it may be a while before you get out this way again."

"They offered me the part."

"They did? That's great. Well until next time then. Take care of yourself, Desi."

"You too, Urban."

I waved good bye and climbed into the limo. "Mr. Praetor, a girl could get the wrong impression, the way you keep driving me to the airport."

He smiled, but didn't say anything until the door was closed. "I wanted to make sure that you didn't hold Spotlight responsible for the stalking."

"Why would I. . .what aren't you telling me?"

"The police believe that we were negligent in not reporting another stalking of one of our other clients."

"But why. . .they think it was the same person. They think that I was stalked by the same person that stalked your other client." My mind was reeling. Could they have been responsible for Gretchen getting hurt? "Are you responsible? Do you think it was your fault?"

"That's not what I was asking."

"Yes, but it's what's important."

"No, I don't. We told our other client that she should report this to the police. We thought it was her responsibility, but she's a shy girl, who hasn't been able to actually get on stage and play a venue. She was barely able to record. Beautiful voice, though, so we keep trying with her. A friend of hers sent in her original tape. The stalking really didn't help her confidence."

"Mr. Praetor, you could be telling me anything to get me to believe you. I don't really care either way, though. You didn't stalk me."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Mr. Praetor said with a smirk. "I hear congratulations are in order."

I had a sudden thought, "Did you have something to do with this? If so, I don't need your pity."

"I had nothing to do with it, Keith. Nothing at all. I was actually a bit surprised that you got offered the role."

"I'm that bad an actor?" I asked with some indignation.

"Not at all. I just really didn't think you had it in you to make love to someone on screen."

"But we didn't. . ."

"Sorry, poor choice of words. What I meant was the meaning of the phrase in a simpler age. The ability to make the audience believe that you are really in love with the person opposite you in a scene. To draw them into the moment and not let them go until the final closing of the credits. I knew you would be good, I just never thought you could be great."

Even though he had both complimented me and insulted me in the same breath, I couldn't help but be flattered. I'd never before thought about being an actor, and especially not an actress, but in this moment it was something that seemed to be pulling me.

Music was my life until that moment in time. Sure, I was a good singer. Better than that? Who was I to say. I was just a sixteen year old. I knew what I liked, and I could be mistaken about my own talent.

But this. . .someone was actually saying that I was better than good at something. "Mr. Praetor, do you think that I sing well? Or should I focus. . ."

"Keith, you're sixteen. You have your entire life to decide what you really want to do. For now, do what you want. If the music works, great. If acting works, great. We're here to help you succeed."

"It sounds like you are my manager or something."

"Look, Keith. Let me explain something to you. As far as we're concerned, your manager is only there to get you the best contract with us that he can. After that, it's our responsibility to make you successful. We need to make back whatever signing money that we gave you."

"Signing money. . ."

"Talk to your manager," he replied with a smirk.

I dialed up Richard. "How is Gretchen doing." No preamble, the first words that came out of my mouth. I needed her to be ok.

"She is better than they thought at first. She had almost asphyxiated in the room, and she tore the sutures a little bit, like I said before. I apparently looked worse than it actually was. In fact, she will still be able to go with you to New York, as long as she takes it easy."

"That's great news. Is she there? Can I speak with her?"

"She's still sleeping. They expect her to be up and alert within the next couple of hours."

"Good. So, Mr. Praetor says that there was some sort of a signing bonus. . .?"

Richard laughed. "The man is a shark. Yes, there was a ten thousand dollar bonus that I took my cut out of and put the rest into your band's account."

Compared to what we'd made already, ten thousand seemed like a pittance. I laughed aloud. "That made my day, Richard, thanks. We're on the way to the airport right now. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"You made me think that you'd actually given us a real sum of money."

"It was ten thousand dollars."

"Sir, I'd almost saved up ten thousand dollars before I sold my first song, Mr. Praetor. While we may not have millions, my band was doing well before we signed with you. We wanted an album, so we signed. That was the extent of the interest on our part."

"You are a lot more mature than I gave you credit for, aren't you. Most kids I know would never have been able to save up one thousand dollars, let alone ten."

"Well, you know how it is. Some things make you take on more responsibility than you would normally."

We arrived at the airport, and for the second time this week I boarded the corporate jet. I'd flown commercial before, and I have to say that the one thing I might be willing to waste more money than it was probably worth on would be a private jet. I relaxed into the leather seats in an environment even more luxurious than I imagined first class to be, and fell asleep.

I woke up when the wheels touched down in Salt Lake.

Richard was there to meet me at the airport and drove me back to the Spotlight Entertainment building so I could pick up Gretchen's car. I drove over to the hospital, and got directions to her room.

"What did you do to your hair?"

"Etch, I missed you so much."

She giggled a bit, and then asked her question again, "What did you do to your hair?"

"Well, I called you to ask you about it. It was noisy where I called you from. I got her, and I could barely hear, but I thought she was you. . .I'm so sorry I didn't notice something was off sooner. I'm so sorry. This happened to you because of me." I began to cry a bit.

Gretchen held her arms out to me and we both sat there and cried. "It's not your fault, Keith. It's nobody's but that psycho's fault."

"Can you never leave my side again? Can we stay together forever?"

"Forever's a long time."

"Are you having second thoughts about me?"

"No, but I worry about my mother, and think that someday you might have second thoughts about me."

"Never babe. I'll never have second thoughts about you."

"I like your breasts by the way." She said, pointedly looking down my shirt. I glanced down myself and realized for the first time that leaning the way I was, my shirt displayed me all the way to my navel.

My hand shot to the neckline of my shirt and I held it to my chest. "How do you girls stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"Revealing yourselves like that? Even though it was just you, I feel so embarrassed."

"You learn not to reveal yourself." She said with a smile. "May I?" She reached her hand toward the neckline of my shirt.

I nodded numbly. Even though it wasn't me that she was reaching for, I felt myself reacting to the idea of her touch. I felt as her fingers played from one side of the line and then the absence of touch, but the feeling of pressure as she ran her fingers over the breast form. My breathing began to speed up a bit, and she took her hand away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to tease you like that. You did a real good job with that concealer."

"Someone in LA showed me how to do it."

"Should I be jealous?"

"No, she's old enough to be my mother." Thinking about age, something else struck me. "Do you regret being with me? I'm so much younger than you are."

"Two years isn't all that much."

"It is right now. Sure when we're both graduated from college, but you're going to college, and I'm about to become a junior in high school. What will your friends think?"

"I'm leaving my friends behind, well except for you. Besides, I'll just tell them that you're a famous rock star."

"And when they meet me? Or will they be meeting Desdemona instead."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Are you with me because I'm Keith, or because I'm Desdemona."

"Where is this coming from, Keith? You know I love you."

"Gretchen, you wouldn't be caught dead in the halls with me before I became Desdemona. You were the one complaining about my age. Now. . ."

"Are you this insecure, Keith? I have always liked you."

"Really? Because up until a few months ago you really had a weird way of showing it. I was cool enough to hang around with at your house or mine, but never where anyone could see us."

"Please, Keith, stop it."

"Etch, I'm just afraid that I'm not good enough. Someone's going to find out I'm a fraud. Someone's going to really listen to my music, or see me on the big screen, and that's going to be it. A flash in the pan. That's All I'm ever going to be. In five years I'll be a has been before I ever was."

"Keith. . ."

"I couldn't tell that it wasn't you. I have spent the last three years trying to be a part of your life and I couldn't even tell that it wasn't you. I know the sound of your voice, and I hear it in my head. It helps me to write my music. And I couldn't even tell it wasn't you.

"I'm a fraud, Etch. All this build up, and what is it worth? A lot of nothing. I'm going to be nothing more than a joke, and a pathetic one at that."

"Come on, you're not. . ."

"I am not. My mom was right about me all along." I got up to leave. "I'm sorry that I got you hurt."

"Stop, Keith. Wait!" She reached her hand for me and I snapped a little.

"Don't touch me. You're working with her, aren't you. This was a set up. You set me up." The room began to spin a little bit, and then it began to get really, really hot. If only I could get out of this clothing I'd feel a lot better. I began to lift up my shirt.

"Desi, what are you doing."

"Need to be cool. Mhmm. Need. . .air." It was all so clear. I just needed to. . .to. I needed something. Too hot to think. "Why is it so hot in here?"

A nurse rushed into the room, "What's wrong, Miss?"

"I think my friend's been drugged."

"Not drugs. Never take drugs."

Have you ever been truly delirious? I mean to the point that waking and sleeping are exactly the same. I remember once having a dream that we were being attacked by criminals in wrinkled clothing. I bolted from my bed and ran upstairs to secure the locks. My mom startled me in her bathrobe, wondering why I was making all of the noise. Her robe was wrinkled and I really freaked out then.

Ok, so it wasn't a perfect example, but it meant something to me. Your brain controls perception and perception leads thought. Thought leads to action. Nothing I'd said was something I hadn't thought. Usually, however, I was able to keep control over my reactions. I control everything I do. I have to. So much I need to present to the world every minute of every day. When I'm Keith or when I'm Desdemona or any time in between, I control how I am perceived.

Something broke in me. In that moment I had to let everyone know how I felt. It was more a matter of revealing all of my insecurities than hiding them. I just couldn't stop.

"Desdemona, you need to calm down."

"Not Desdemona. You're Desdemona."

"Desi. . ."

"My name is not DESDEMONA!!!!!"

"Ma'am. I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." The nurse was making calming motions in my direction, but I was having none of it.

"Desi. . ."

"Stop calling me that."

"Fine, what should I call you then."

I'm not sure we'll ever know what I was about to say, because I collapsed to the ground. I didn't pass out, not yet, but I'd lost all control over my body. I couldn't speak, or move. I just lay there listening.

I couldn't understand what was being said. It seemed so distant. Richard came in halfway through it. They just let me lie there on the floor. Why didn't they notice there was something wrong? They were stepping over me and moving around me, but no one was looking at me.

I began to hear a mechanical whine that seemed to be coming from Richard's mouth and I realized at that moment that I was dreaming. The jet had just taken off and what I was hearing was the retracting of the landing gear. I sat up and looked around me. It was a little cool in the cabin, so I wrapped my arms around my chest. . .and realized I was only in my bra.

I let out a little shriek of surprise.

"Your shirt is on the floor next to you. I've never known someone to get undressed while asleep before."

I turned toward Mr. Praetor with a biting retort that died before it crossed my lips. He was sitting with his back to me, and doing his best not to look in my direction. It was possible that he was even more embarrassed than I was. I retrieved my shirt and quickly put it on.

"I'm so sorry about that, Sir."

"Don't worry about it. While I may think of you a bit like the daughter I never had, disrobing in front of me still gets and unwanted reaction on my part."

"But, I'm not a girl."

"Desi, it doesn't matter what you are or aren't. You look like a very beautiful young woman right now. Completely like one. I would appreciate some restraint on your part in the future. . .?"

Again an angry reply died before it could emerge. He had a half smile on his face that sort of said, 'I don't mean half of what I'm saying right now.'

"I think I'm partially to blame anyway. I had the flight attendant put a blanket on you when I noticed you were asleep. It was only after that when you started taking off your shirt. I have to ask, though, are they real?"

"No," I said with a smirk, "They're not real. They're silicone that has been glued to my chest and blended using concealer."

"Glued?!"

I chuckled at his tone, "It is a light adhesive that peels off. It's just there to keep them from moving. If I took off my bra, they'd likely fall off on their own."

He laughed at this. "You are full of surprises, Keith. You really are. One moment, I have trouble seeing you as anything but a beautiful girl. The next I can see that the girl is just an elaborate disguise. Can I be honest for a moment?"

I was a little worried at his tone, and let my nervousness show in my tone when I said, "Okay. . .?"

"You aren't the best singer I have ever heard. You have a tendency to go a bit sharp at the end of your phrases, and you occasionally get a little nasal," He put a hand up to stop a response on my part, "I'm not saying you're bad. You're better than most pop starts by far. You could do with some real voice training, though, before you could be considered really great at it.

"Where you shine, however, is your presence. It is this act you put on when you begin to sing. This feeling in someone watching you that this is your whole world. You transform your mistakes into character. They enhance the message you are trying to get across. You are an actor. That is what you really, and truly, are. It's only when you take a step back and start describing the pieces of your character that I even see the lines between Keith and Desdemona.

"I have to say truthfully, though, that this worries me a little. You are in real danger of losing yourself to Desdemona, especially going almost twenty-four seven like you have been."

"I thought you liked the concept."

"Having you be Desi on stage, and Keith everywhere else is fine with me. In fact, I really think that it might enhance your reputation as an actor."

"But I want to be a singer, primarily."

"I know. Really I do. Just keep an open mind, and realize that life doesn't always give us what we want."

LA to salt lake isn't a long flight, and I spent the rest of it looking out the window and thinking about what he'd said. Life had changed for me in a very short period of time. I'd originally done all of this for Jake and Bobby. Now, Bobby was in jail, and Jake had abandoned me. Why had I continued with the farce after that?

Did I enjoy being Desdemona that much?

It was a pain, sometimes literally, dressing like a girl all the time. But I really liked the attention that Desdemona got. I LOVED signing autographs. Seeing the look on people's faces when they saw the little personal touches that I'd given them. Could I really be that comfortable doing the same thing as Keith?"

I looked at the long nails on my right hand. There were a couple of chips in the polish, and I needed to fill in the back a bit. Would I have to cut the nails to be in the movie? What would I do to go perform if I did cut my nails. I could always go back to finger picks, but that would destroy part of the image that people had of Desdemona.

Was fame more important to me than my own sanity?

I was still deep in thought when the plane landed. "Can I give you a ride to the hospital, Keith?"

"I need to pick up my car. . ."

"Your manager already took care of that. We agreed that you'd probably be dying to see your girlfriend was alright as soon as you landed."

"Mr. Praetor, I know that you don't do this for your other clients, so why are you doing it for me?"

He said nothing, so I figured I might as well disembark and head to the waiting limo. When we were settled and moving, he began to speak.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Are you about the reveal that you're a five hundred year old vampire whose only been looking for love your entire life?"

He chuckled at this and shook his head, "No, nothing so silly as that. I'm fifty three years old."

I blinked. "Wait, what?" He didn't look much older than my mother or Tom. I'd thought he was middle to late thirties, maybe early forties at the latest.

"The grey hair would give it away, but I color it. It pays for people to underestimate you in this business. Thinking you are too young for your position works in your favor most of the time.

"Thirty-five years ago, my wife and I had a son. There were complications with the birth, and my wife couldn't have any more children. We loved our son and tried to give him everything he could want or need."

"You're not going to tell me that he was transgendered or anything. . ."

Mr. Praetor laughed. "No, he was a heterosexual man. Just a regular guy, except when he got on stage. Then he was transformed. He could have been great."

"What happened?"

"Leukemia. He died when he was sixteen. I know that my memories of him might be tainted by the filter of memory, but he's the reason that I want to support people who have real talent. You remind me of him. Not in your personality or how you look or anything like that. In your drive and the way you transform whenever you get up on stage."

"Look, Mr. Praetor. I can't replace your son. I can't act as a surrogate for you."

"I don't want a replacement son. I want you to be you. The best you."

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

We got to the hospital without any more deep discussion, and went up to Gretchen's room. She was sleeping when we arrived so I sat down in a chair next to her bed and held her hand. I know I could never live without this woman, and wondered at the dream that I'd had on the plane.

"I love you so much, Etch."

Would it be such a bad thing to spend the last two years of high school married to her? Could I really handle it?

Before she'd suggested the idea, I never would have considered it, but now. . .

"Please wake up, beautiful. I need you in my life."

Her eyes fluttered and opened. "Keith!"

"Hello. How are you?"

"I've been better. It looks like I'm going to have a longer recuperation that we figured."

"It's okay, babe."

"But, I want to be a perfect girl for you."

"You already are. You have always been perfect to me."

She blushed crimson and smiled a shy little smile. "You always know how to cheer me up, Keith."

"I know that it's probably not the time, but I had a weird dream and it brought a question to my mind."

"Okay. . ." There was a confused look on her face.

"Why did you wait so long to date me?"

She laughed a short laugh and smiled, "That's what you're so worried about? Keith, I've always liked you as a friend"

"Yeah, but. . ."

"It was partially Desdemona that made me look at you as something other than the thirteen year old with a crush."

"You still thought of me as thirteen?"

"You were really cute at thirteen."

I smiled at her grin.

"The problem was you were always there. You supported me in anything that I wanted to do, and helped pick up the pieces when I failed. I never realized it, but you gave me the strength to be myself, even when that meant that I spent most of my time with other people. When I saw you dressed as Desdemona for the first time, something I'd done myself in the past, I knew everything you'd done. I knew that without you, my life would be hollow."

"Wow, I never knew you felt that way," I said. There were some tears in my eyes, and I just smiled at her.

"I know. I tried to let you know how I felt thought other means, and sometimes it got a little out of hand."

"Yes, but it left me worried that you only loved me as Desdemona."

"You know I'm not into girls, Keith. Sure, I love a guy in drag, but I think it's more the knowledge of the deception that gets me going more than the image of a woman."

"Babe. . ."

"Just kiss me."

So I did. It was a gentle kiss, without any need for anything more. Just the kiss. We hugged for a bit after then, and I got up to go. "So, you going to be able to come to New York with me?"

"The doctors say I can get out of here tomorrow morning. I may not be able to meet you until Thursday night or Friday morning though, and I know you need to be there Thursday morning. . ."

"It will work out. I need to get some sleep before tomorrow, babe." We kissed our goodbyes and I went out to get her car. It was a short drive home and I went to my room and went to sleep.