New York, New York, It's a wonderful town; Keith goes to Juilliard; and Keith's Dad?!?

Life comes at you fast and hard sometimes. In the past week I've signed a contract with Spotlight Productions, recorded an entire album, gotten a stalker who kidnapped Gretchen, tried out for, and got, a part in a movie, visited LA, come home. Gretchen was rescued by the police.

All in all a very busy week, and it was about to continue with more of the same.

I got up at three to get ready. I was tired of the skirt I had been wearing a lot this week. I wanted to feel a little more like Keith than Desdemona. That gave me an idea. I grabbed one of my nicer button shirts and my boy jeans. I glued the girls in place and grabbed one of my plainer bras. Since the jeans and shirt were both black, I went with red polish on my nails. I went with some, mostly regular, makeup. I had to shave this morning. I threw it all together with the pink combat boots. Without the need to put on the wig, I was all ready to go. This time I was taking two suitcases with me. If I had to dress like a girl most of the time, I might as well have some options.

I stopped by the Hansen household on my way out of town. I hadn't seen Buffy in a little while, and I felt the loss in my life.

"Keith?" Suzy was half asleep when she answered the door. It was barely six in the morning after all.

"Sorry for stopping by so early, Sooz. I've been on the run all week and wanted to see you and Buffy before I headed out of town again."

"Buffy and I were just getting up anyway. She hasn't slept too well the past couple of days, so we've been trying to keep each other company, and keep her mind off the past."

"I can leave if you like. . ."

"No, I'm sure she'd love to see you."

The healing of the human body is amazing all things considered. There were still some scabs on her face but fewer than I'd thought there would be when I found her in the desert. She wasn't the same girl that I'd known. Sure, without the makeup she's always looked a bit like her male self, but she'd had a practiced hand, and knew all the tricks. None of that was necessary any more.

Her breasts were the same C cup that they'd been before, so her body hadn't changed, but the face now matched the body. She was beautiful. Her father's money had paid for the best, it seems.

Her jaw was still wired shut, so she still had the keyboard to speak with.

:Keith:

"Hey, Buffy. I wanted to check in on you before heading out to New York."

:New York?:

"No one told you? Up in Flames are appearing on the Saturday Night Live show this weekend."

:Really? I'm so happy for you! When do you leave?:

"Right now, actually. Hence the reason that I am here so early in the morning. Sorry for waking you up."

"Like I told you earlier, we were both up, Keith. I'm glad you stopped by."

:So am I.:

The smile on their faces would have told me, if her words hadn't.

"Gretchen sends her love. We'll try to stop by after we get back."

:Gretchen gets to go with you? I'm so envious.:

The look on my face must have let more than I'd intended slip, since both of them looked suddenly worried.

"What's wrong, Keith?"

"Gretchen was kidnapped by a psycho, and we kinda want to stay close to each other for the next couple of days."

"You can't just leave it like that. . ."

:yeah:

"Sorry, guys, I want to tell you all the details, but I have a flight to catch in three hours."

"Sorry, You're right. We can get all the details from Gretchen before she heads out to meet you. I assume she's leaving on a later flight?"

"Yep. She is. I love you guys."

:Love you too:

There were hugs all around and I was out the door. I got to the airport with time to spare. I checked my bags and went to the terminal to wait for my flight. Guthrie and Davey were already waiting for me.

"You guys just love getting here before me, don't you?"

"Of course, Boss-lady. We love to prepare the way for you amidst the screaming masses."

"What he said."

"No quote for us today?"

"You. . .should. . .have. . .bought. . .a. . .squirrel?"

Davey started laughing, but I just gave both of them a blank stare.

"She really is young, isn't she?"

"Hey, at least I wasn't quoting 'It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World.'"

"Thank goodness for small favors."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Rat Race. It was inspired by the other one, although it isn't a direct remake of it."

"Oookay."

"Don't worry about it." Guthrie said dismissively.

We joked and played for the next hour in the first class lounge before they started boarding First Class passengers. Richard had gotten us First Class tickets this time, and I wasn't complaining.

The seats in First Class were worth the price difference alone, in my opinion. I melted into the seat and just relaxed as the other passengers filed past into the back of the plane. I signed some autographs, something I hadn't done in a couple of days, and was glad for the marker in my purse. By the time I was done I'd given out signature #75, and it was only then that I realized I hadn't even noticed when I'd written signature #69. All that worry for nothing.

Apparently both Davey and Guthrie were over 21, since as soon as we were in the air they ordered alcohol. I didn't even want to try. I needed all of my faculties with me all of the time. Keeping myself straight was a full time occupation.

I had my own personal screen and was able to pick my own movie out of five offered. I finally saw A-Team like I'd wanted weeks ago with Gretchen, and it was worth the wait. I'd only seen one or two episodes of the original as re-runs, but I really liked the movie. After the movie, I became aware of a slight argument going on in the galley behind me.

"You ask her."

"You're the one with the question, you ask her. You saw her giving out autographs."

I turned around and looked at the young flight attendants who were obviously, I thought, talking about me. They saw me turn around and one of them cringed.

The other stood up a little taller. "Excuse me, but you're Desdemona, right?"

I smiled and answered, "Yes."

"You have a girlfriend right? I mean you're into girls?"

"Yes," I said with a little less confidence.

"Well, Katie has never been with a girl, and wanted to know if you'd sign her. . ."

"Julie!"

I went bright red. The reaction Katie had given suggested that they were looking for something a little more intimate than signing a breast.

"You know I'm only sixteen, right? Even if I wasn't in a committed relationship."

"You're. . .sixteen?"

I smiled sweetly at her. "Yep. Well, to be truthful, my birthday is on the first of July, and I'll be seventeen."

"Oh, god." Katie looked mortified.

Even Julie had lost some of the humor in her tone. "I'm so sorry. I should never have suggested. . ."

"Trust me, I've heard worse this month."

"Still, we shouldn't have propositioned you like that. It's just that Katie really likes you."

"I'm flattered, and Katie, you're really pretty. I'm mostly just spoken for right now. I could sign something else for you. . ."

She didn't look at me as she handed her purse to me. It was a light blue cloth bag, mostly. I signed it. ^#76Because there's someone out there for everyone, just not always the one we think at first. Desdemona.

"We're so sorry about this." Julie looked abashed at her actions, and Katie looked very embarrassed.

"Look, Ladies, don't worry about it. I understand why you did it, at least I think I do, and you don't have to be embarrassed."

"But I should have known. . ." Katie began before I stopped her.

"Do I look like I'm sixteen? Do I sound sixteen?"

"Well, no. That's the reason that. . ."

"Right. As long as you recognize that a sixteen year old isn't what you're looking for."

They both giggled at this.

"So, why not the two of you? Why don't you two date?"

They looked at each other, as if for the first time, and both of them blushed. "Julie isn't interested. . ."

"Katie, I think you'd be surprised. They way that she looked when she made the suggestion of where I should sign you suggests to me that she might not have been entirely truthful to you in the past."

"Wait, what?"

Julie blushed profusely, and then turned away. Katie looked at her in shock for a moment and then exclaimed, "You little minx."

"I think the two of you have something to talk about it seems."

I turned around with a smile on my face. I always like getting people together, especially when they were obviously interested in each other the way that those two were.

I relaxed for the rest of the trip, just mentally preparing myself for anything that could happen once we arrived in New York. We landed before I'd even really begun.

There was a limo at the airport to take us to the studio. Since we weren't performing, Guthrie and Davey imbibed some more, but I have no idea what it was.

"Should you guys really be drinking?"

"It's all fine, Desi. Don't worry about us. They mostly need to get your vocals all toned in. We're just there to look good."

"I thought it was my job to look good." I said with a little smirk.

They both laughed at this, but both of them stopped drinking shortly afterward. Look, I'm not a prude or a teetotaler or anything. I just feel that there are some things that are just not done. Working drunk is one of those.

I felt that I'd have to explain myself.

"Look, I understand you guys are adults. Choosing your beverages is something that you should be able to do. I get it. Just remember that we're getting paid for this." I smiled at the two of them.

Davey looked a bit abashed and Guthrie just looked uncomfortable at the scrutiny.

"It's really easy to forget that you're still a kid, Boss-lady."

"Yeah. I'm sorry that we've been drinking in front of you."

"Guys, don't worry about it. Like I said, I don't begrudge you your choices."

"See, that's what makes us feel guilty about drinking in front of you, Boss-lady. The fact that you would do nothing to us if we did."

I looked confused at them for a moment.

"We shouldn't be drinking in front of you. You're a minor, after all, and you're right, we are working. I don't know how to explain it better. . .Davey? A little help?"

"Guthrie and I have talked a lot since we met at your place, Boss-lady. You might even say we've kind of become friends. Both of us figure that you're our only chance at making it anywhere in this industry, since you're the only one willing to work with us."

"Guys. . ." I was getting a little choked up over this. These were two of the sweetest guys I'd ever dealt with, and apparently I was the only one who got that.

"Really, Desi. We mean it. We're not always going to see eye to eye with each other, or with you, but as long as you'll have us, we'll do what it takes not to piss you off."

"What bean-pole over here means, Boss-lady, is that we've got your back. If you really feel we shouldn't drink on the job, we respect you enough not to drink."

"What he said."

I was crying happy tears at this. "Thanks guys."

"You sure you're not really a girl?"

"Oh hush."

Guys and girls are really under a different set of pressures in our society. A guy crying in happiness is seen, by many, as weakness, and the rest just figure it shouldn't happen. It's fine if a woman does it however.

Here I was crying, 'like a girl,' and for once happy about it. While playing Desdemona I was more able to let my emotions out. They really were my emotions, but I was less inclined to hide them away from the world.

My reverie was interrupted by the limo coming to a complete stop. The door was opened and we got out in front of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. It didn't seem like a studio to me. It seemed more like an office building than anything else. After crossing the lobby we waited for the elevator and all of us piled inside. We got off on the 8th floor and were escorted to the studio.

We were ushered to a middle aged man with long black hair wearing a headset and holding a clip board. His back was to us when as we approached, and our guide had to tap him on the shoulder.

"Just a minute, Jimmy," He said to our guide and then continued to what I had to assume was someone else with a headset as well. "Up in Flames is going to be here any minute for their sound check, Brian, and we will need to have their instruments in place before that happens. . .I don't care, find them. . .Yes, I know that the guitar is actually signed. . .Yes, and who signed it. . .just get it on the stage three hours ago, Brian."

Jimmy tapped him on the shoulder again.

"What is it, Jimmy, can't you see I'm in the middle of a crisis?"

"It just got worse, Frankie. Up in Flames is here."

The man whispered something under his breath that sounded like excrement, and then began to turn around, "Hi, my name is Frank Robison, welcome. . ."

"DAD!?"

"I assure you, Miss, that my only child is a seventeen year old boy, which you're obviously not. Besides, I'm sure that I'd remember having a child as beautiful as you."

I was pissed. Really pissed. I was livid. I was molten lava waiting for an escape. I wanted to knock him on his ass and scream at him until I lost my voice. I wanted to know why.

I think Davey caught part of this, and opened his mouth to say something. I caught his eye and shook my head before he could say more than, "Mr. Robison. . ."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I must have mistaken you for someone I once thought I knew. You see, my Dad ran out on my mom and me years ago. I've often wondered what I'd say to him if I ever saw him again. I guess this helped me to mistake you for him. Look, I'm sure you're good at your job, Sir, but I'm not sure if I can handle working with you. Like I said, it's not you. Jimmy, and my band mates can attest to that."

It took everything I had in me to keep calm and say this as simply as I did. Who did this man think he was to so casually drop out of my life. I wanted to deck him, or claw his eyes out, or something. Anything other than putting a pleasant smile on my face and talking to him like he was just anyone else in the world.

That's why they call it acting, folks.

He looked taken aback for a moment, and then something sort of dawned on him. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. A glow seemed to have lit up his face.

"Jimmy, could you clear the greenroom, please?"

"Frankie?"

"I need a moment with the band alone, please. I need to explain how things work here. If they still want me to get them someone else to work with them afterwards, then I'm fine with that."

I looked curiously at Davey and Guthrie as we followed after my father. At this point all I wanted was to have nothing further to do with him.

We entered the greenroom and Frankie shut the door behind us. The sounds of the studio shut off and we were there alone.

"Let me get a look at you. . .now aren't you the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. Keith, you are the best looking drag queen I have ever seen, and believe me, I've seen a lot of them."

"Wha. .?" What was happening here? I couldn't get my mind to engage.

"I didn't recognize you until you started talking, but to tell you the truth, your mom hasn't sent me any recent photos. I hope you don't mind that I jumped the gun about your seventeenth birthday, but I knew it was almost here."

"How?" Who was this man, and what had he done with the uncaring father that I was sure that I had?

"I celebrate your birthday every year, silly. Didn't you read any of my letters? At all?"

"Letters? I thought you were in Seattle." Sure he was sending me letters. Him and every other father who wanted to get back together with his estranged child. It seemed so. . .fake.

"Why would I go some stuffy old place like that?"

"Mom said. . ."

"She told you I was in Seattle?"

"Yeah." It really sounded lame when he put it that way.

"But the letters would have all been post marked New York."

"There weren't any letters." And Mom has been working afternoons for the past three years. I've gotten all the mail in that period, and there wasn't a single letter in that entire time.

"Your mom gave me your email address three years ago. . .she never actually gave me your address did she?"

Damn you wannabe super Dad and your skill at logic.

"Why. . .?"

"Probably to keep you from turning out just like me, but it seems we showed her, huh?"

"Dad, I'm not like you, I'm not. . ."

"Gay?"

"My girlfriend would definitely have a problem with it if I were." I felt myself relaxing as the conversation went on. He seemed like a normal sort of a guy.

"Oh, but I thought. . ."

"Have you ever heard Desdemona sing?"

"Well, no. . ."

I began to sing My Own Person and my Dad's eyes got big. "You sound so. . ."

"Girly?"

"Well, not exactly what I was thinking, but yeah. You didn't. . ." He looked toward my crotch. Yeah, there's that awkwardness again.

"No, I'm intact down there." If you've never had your gay absentee father looking at your crotch, then let me tell you it's an experience worth missing.

He raised an eyebrow at me. They were tight jeans and I was tucked away.

"Dad, I have to look the part, don't I?"

"Doesn't that get. . .uncomfortable?"

"If you do it wrong. . .or become aroused, then yeah, it can get uncomfortable."

The other three guys in the room shifted a bit uncomfortably. See, I still think of myself as male. Score one for the home team.

"To change the subject," Dad said to general chuckles, "I'm sure that Orion would love to see you while you're in the City. As long, that is, as you can get away from your mom long enough?"

"I'm emancipated, Dad. I'm in charge of who I see or where."

"That's a story I have to hear. But later. So, after sound check, could you stop by my place with me? Orion should be getting home about that time, and I've told him so much about you. . .well, as much as I knew," he finished, eyeing me up and down once more.

"You pull off this butch chic look very well."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to be a bit more Keith today, so I'm wearing my regular clothes with some Desdemona flourishes."

"Like I said: it looks good on you."

"Thanks, Dad." I blushed a little.

"So, do you mind it when people call you beautiful?"

"Not as long as I'm being Desdemona, no." The question he wasn't asking, but the one I was asking myself, was whether I minded when he did it. Unfortunately, that wasn't a question I was prepared to answer yet.

"Then you're beautiful, Desdemona."

"She prefers Desi, Frankie"

"I stand corrected, Davey. Like I was saying: Tonight, you, me, Orion, my place?"

"Sorry, Dad, but I'd prefer not. I mean, Gretchen would never forgive me if I went to your place without her, and since she plans to be here tonight or tomorrow. . ."

My Dad's expression fell when he heard what I'd started saying, but by the time I finished he was beaming a smile at me.

"Gretchen is your girl, I assume?"

"Yep."

"Then, by all means. Bring her. We'll meet tomorrow evening then. Let me give you my address."

I wrote it in my phone, and then the four of us headed out to the stage. I would have to talk this over with Gretchen. Hopefully I could find some way to gracefully back out of this. I didn't trust the guy, and knew that Etch would likely be tired after her flight.

Dad began talking into his headset as he lead us onward, "Brian, their instruments better be there by the time we arrive."

We turned a corner and saw Brian respond.

"Just finishing up now, Frankie."

"Good man. I found out today that Desdemona is a niece I never knew I had. So we better treat her extra special, got it?"

"Sure think, Frankie. You're the boss."

"No, I am, but I let Frankie run things for me in the pits. Glad you could join us, Desdemona. My name is Rhoda Coolidge."

After I got over my initial moment of shock, I smiled at him and took his hand. "Hi, Mr. Coolidge, thanks for having us. It's such an honor to appear before your audience." It was as if he'd materialized out of thin air. I could see why he was the boss.

"Most people call me Rhodie because of how I got my start in this business. It's me who should be grateful that you agreed to be on my show. You are infamous right now. You ruined what should have been a slam dunk for Bloody Pips, called out the entire shock media crowd, and are just plain beautiful to boot."

That was the second time in as many days that my internal monologue had not edited out the name of Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools.

"She's also only sixteen, Rhodie."

His eyes got wide, and his mouth dropped open. Then a smile spread across his face. "Frankie. . ."

"Oh no, Rhodie. Not again."

"Come on, it would be perfect. We can even change our TV spots. It will bring in numbers like we haven't seen in years."

"No way. . ."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Well, I was thinking. . ."

Dad cut him off. "Mr. Coolidge wants to start billing you as 'Teen Sensation Desdemona'."

"But the band is called Up in Flames."

"Then 'Teen Sensation Desdemona of Up in Flames'."

"Why does he have that glint in his eye?"

"Because everyone will want to know: A why we changed our spot, B if it's true, and C how we knew and no one else thought to even ask."

"Don't forget that an entertainment program is about to scoop every media outlet in the country."

"It's perfect."

"Except for one thing. She's a singer, not an actress, and she's not the special guest. The last time we did this type of thing was with the guest star."

"I'm sure that the guest star won't mind, since he is in the same industry after all. We could build up the rivalry."

Something started to dawn on me. I figured I knew the answer, but I had to ask anyway, "Who's the guest star?"

"Owen Emerson, Lead singer of Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools."

The universe hates me. It really does.

I groaned, "Why couldn't it have been anyone but him?"

"Wait, you know Owen?"

"I met him at a screen test for a movie yesterday."

Ok, there must be something really wrong with me. Here I was telling everyone that I'd only just met Owen, when in actuality I'd only just noticed him.

To tell the truth, I actually met him in Las Vegas. We were both in the same greenroom for most of the show, but I'd spent the evening ripping on the other bands there, and generally having a good time with my friends. Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools had been more subdued, even though they'd had twice as many people as we did.

I think that even then they knew that the three of us outclassed them.

It's a weird feeling. . .

"Hey, Desi. Long time no see."

Wait, what was I thinking?

"Not into boys, huh," Frank's comment jump-started my brain and I just got mad. I let it show this time.

"Look, Frank, we don't have the sort of relationship where you get to tease me about things that are really none of your business. Sure, Owen is about the prettiest boy I've ever seen, no offense Owen."

He had a really weird smile on his face, but his reply was simply, "None taken."

I continued, "but that doesn't mean I want to have his babies or anything of the like."

"Look, I'm sorry, Desi, I didn't mean anything by it. Really."

"Look, can I discuss this wild idea that you're all getting into with Owen for a moment? Alone?"

I walked into the greenroom and Owen followed me. How to explain. . .

Owen wrapped his arms around me and went in for a kiss. I shoved him away.

"Dude, really, I'm not into you."

"But, I thought. . ."

"I know what you thought, but I needed a moment alone so I could explain something to you that most people don't know about me. This is especially important if the two of us are going to be working together in close proximity since I can tell you're attracted to me."

"You said. . ."

"Ok, let's start this over. Owen, you know how I said yesterday that I didn't even remember what I'd done in my reading with you?"

"Yeah. . ."

"Part of that is because the only part of my performance that was acting was being in love with you."

"Ok. That makes. . .wait, what?!"

"Yeah, exactly."

I think I broke his brain. His head cocked to the side and he gave a little shudder. "Dude, thanks for preventing me from kissing you."

I laughed. "Now, I have to hope that you won't use what you know against me."

"I'm just glad you told me so that I don't make a fool of myself."

I felt much easier in his presence. Something began to dawn on me. I liked to be desired, and Owen had really. . .desired me. More than that, I needed to be desired. I had been drawn to the way he was looking at me more than I was drawn to him.

It was the reason I'd kissed Gretchen. I'd loved her before that moment, but I was always too scared to kiss her. Her desire for me in that moment had broken through.

"Thanks, Owen."

"For what?"

"For helping me to realize something about myself in a situation where I wasn't going to get myself into any really deep trouble."

"You're welcome. . .I think."

"Don't worry about it." I gave him a quick hug.

"You don't feel like a guy."

"Padding."

"Why do you do this?"

"You've heard me sing. You tell me."

"Ok, you've got a point there. So, what's your real name?"

"Owen, without my name, anything you tell the press is an unsubstantiated rumor. Sure, it makes life a bit more difficult for me for a while, but it could blow over. With my name, it gets blown wide open as soon as anyone starts digging."

"Got it. Trust me, but only so far." Owen laughed at me, and had a huge smile plastered across his face.

"You are such a dork."

"Look, Desi, someday I hope that you'll trust me enough to show me who you really are. Until then, we can at least work together, right?"

"So, how in the heck did you get the guest star spot on SNL this early into your career?"

"My manager knows a guy who knows a guy. You know how it is, I'm sure."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't. Want to fuel some spurious rumors?" I had an evil grin on my face.

"Um. . .not really."

"Ok." I laughed as I left the room.

There were some knowing smiles as I left the room. I was about to say something when Owen spoke up.

"Guys, nothing happened. Desdemona let me know she was a little attracted to me, but didn't want it to affect our work. I told her that she's really not my type."

"Apparently a woman with brains is too much for him."

"Watch it, Desi. I happen to think that it takes brains to chew gum at the same time as doing your nails."

Everyone laughed at this.

"No offense?" There was very little of the earlier fire in his eyes, but this moth no longer felt compelled to leap into his arms.

"None taken. What's the plan here?"

"We'll have to change some of the sketches, or write new ones, to include both Owen and Desi."

"Won't this be lessening Owen's impact on the show?"

"Look, Desi, I don't mind sharing the limelight with you. I liked acting opposite you yesterday."

"Wait, if you were preparing to be on SNL on Saturday, why were you in LA yesterday?"

"We'd already practiced all of the sketches that they had prepared for me, so I flew out for my screen test, and flew back here last night."

That was way too plausible for me.

"Why don't we have both bands perform on the same stage?" Rhodie was quick to jump into the first moment of silence he could find.

"You want Up in Flames and Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools to perform on the same stage?"

Everyone was staring at me when I finished. It suddenly occurred to me what I'd just said. "Um. . ."

"Meaningless Death Imagery? That is the coolest Goth band name I've ever heard." Owen was smiling broadly as he said this, and Davey and Guthrie were laughing.

I'm not sure how it happened, but an entire sketch got centered around my statement. Rhodie went off to talk to the writing team, and Up in Flames finally took the stage for our sound check.

We performed 'My Own Person' and 'What You See'. After a couple of adjustments they asked us to do 'What You See' a second time. They seemed happy with our sound, so I sought out my Dad to find out what their plan was for us.

"Desi, they want you back here tomorrow morning at seven to run through lines and practice a couple of sketches. We won't need any of you guys for the rest of the day. Make sure that Guthrie and Davey know we will need them after noon tomorrow."

"Ok, I'll head out then."

I passed on the information to Davey and Guthrie and then gave Gretchen a call.

"Hello, Beautiful Lady."

"Hello yourself, Etch." I said with a smile. "So, when do you get to come out here?"

"The doctor wants to keep me for observation one more night, but he thinks I should be able to fly out tomorrow morning sometime."

"Already have your ticket, I hope?"

"Yep, Richard picked one up using the band account. Figured it would fit into general band expenses."

"I can agree to that. So, you alright then? Healing up nicely?"

"Yes, and I can probably show you when I get there."

"Gretchen!"

"It's not like I'd let it get any further than looking right now. My doctor told me that I'd want to wait at least another two months at this point to prevent anything down there from tearing."

"Still. Aren't you afraid of tempting fate?"

"Not with you. I ever tell you how much I appreciate your strength?"

"Not that I recall."

"Well, I do. I appreciate your ability to tell me no under the most trying of circumstances."

"Thanks, I think"

We both laughed at this.

"What time's your flight tomorrow?"

"I arrive in New Your about 4 your time."

"Well, there goes one excuse."

"Excuse? For what?"

"My Dad works for NBC apparently."

"Okay. . ."

"He asked me over to dinner, and in trying to put it off, I suggested that I would prefer to have you there with me. You'll be getting in at about the time he wanted all of us to get together tomorrow."

"That sounds great!"

"You're not really helping me much, Etch."

"Keith, get over it. I'd give anything to spend some more time with my Mom. Well, almost anything, since there was always one thing I could have done. My Mom wouldn't accept me for who I am, and that hurts. Your Dad wants to see you, however you present yourself. How can you say no to that?"

"But he left me, Etch."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Keith. Everyone. So, accept his apology, and take me out to meet him tomorrow."

"Yes, Boss-lady." I said this in a fair approximation of Davey's ever ebullient tone.

"You better believe it."

"I love you, Etch."

"I love you too."

I started wandering though the city, vaguely aware that New York wasn't anywhere near as safe a place as Provo, and just looking at the world around me. I was stopped to give my autograph a couple of times, but nowhere near as many as in Utah. Desdemona fever hasn't really spread out this far I guess.

When I hit Central Park, I decided to make a left. Sure, I was wandering around New York alone, but I wasn't sure that I was ready to 'brave' Central Park yet.

I got to the corner of the park, and I saw something I'd wondered about, but never really cared to look up. About a block away I saw a street sign that said 'Broadway.'

With a smile on my face I headed in that direction, and then set my feet on Broadway.

Yes, it was a little cheesy.

I walked down Broadway, looking at the buildings and people. It seems there were more people here just doing the same, because I signed a lot of autographs. I looked down a crossroad and saw a sign. I hadn't been looking for it, but there it was: Juilliard.

I had nothing else to do, so I went down the block and walked in.

For the most prestigious music school in the country, it seemed more like an office building to me. I wandered around for a bit, just getting the feel of the place.

"We don't serve your kind here."

There was a clean cut young couple walking in my direction.

"I was just looking around."

"Don't mind Blake. He thinks being here entitles him to a certain level of snobbery. I'm Hannah. You looking for anything in particular?"

"Not really. I was in the area, and thought I'd take a look. I have some people telling me I should try out here."

"Who? Your Aunt Nana?"

His continued attitude really grated on me. I had to do something to shut him up. "No, my manager."

"Don't you mean pimp?"

His comment was so ridiculous that I did the only thing I could; I laughed.

"You have no idea at all who I am, do you?"

The blank looks on their faces was enough to set me off again. "I'm Desdemona. And some people think I'm a bit of a rock star. Me, I think I just love music."

"Yeah, well, rock isn't really something we do here."

"Blake!"

"It isn't."

"I prefer playing jazz." I said to head the two of them off, "but I've been known to play some classical, including an arrangement for 12-string, Bass, and Percussion of Vivaldi."

"Prove it."

"Huh?"

"Forgive my companion, Desdemona. He has about a thousand dollars riding on the fact that the Four Seasons for 12-string, Bass, and Behemoth is all done in post production."

"Um, but I only do the 12-string. Wait, how have you heard about that at all?"

Hannah smiled at my confusion, "Apparently Bobby wanted a showcase of his new instrument, so he posted it to youTube with a link to a website where he describes construction of his Behemoth. Most people here think he is a bit insane, but the three of these guys wanted to try it out, and who was I to complain. I transcribed music as well as I could off the broadcast, but we ran into a snag with the 12-string. Blake doesn't think a 12-string can be played like that."

"Well, lead me to a 12-string and we'll go from there."

They lead me to a studio where a reasonable approximation of the Behemoth had been put together. More specifically, it looked as if it was reconstructed by someone with too much time on their hands and a very good understanding of percussive sounds. In some regards it put Bobby's version to shame.

There were two boys already in the room chatting, they looked up when we entered. Both of them were blond with similar features and I figured they were probably related. The taller one spoke first,
"thought we were taking a break from this, Blake?"

"Desdemona here thinks she can play better than I can."

"Well, I'm game to let anyone that. . .flamboyant. . .put her money where her mouth is."

I walked over to the guitar and tested each string. "Well, here's your first problem, guys. I play with two sets of octaves."

I re-tuned the guitar, and then ran a couple of arpeggios. After a calming breath I launched into Vivaldi.

It was only a couple of seconds later that the other two joined in. We played through Fall, and were just entering Winter, when Blake stormed out of the theater.

The percussionist walked over to me offering his hand, "Never thought I'd see someone show Blake up on his own instrument. I'm Mark, by the way."

I reached out to shake his hand, and he lifted it to get a better look at my nails.

"I guess these are your secret weapon, huh?"

"Yep, they are."

"So, you just here to show up Blake, or you here for another reason?"

"No real reason, actually. Although, my manager wants me to audition for the pre-college course here."

The wheels started turning in his head, and he looked at my hair and boots. Something seemed to click behind his eyes and he was really looking at me for the first time.

"If you really are who I think you are, play Don't Blame the Girls."

The smile left my face. "I am not some windup toy for your entertainment. That song has a special meaning for me that will not be. . ."

"Woah, calm down. Yep. You're who I thought you were. My girlfriend bought six copies of the song when she found out that money was being donated to her charity."

A small smile came back to my face, "That's actually all the money the band makes on that video."

"Band?" Hannah rejoined the conversation.

"You are looking at the one and only Desdemona. Singer for Up in Flames. Overnight sensation. Guest musical act for Saturday Night Live this week, and apparently classical music enthusiast."

"I prefer Jazz. Bobby wanted to do Vivaldi as sort of a proof of concept for his Behemoth."

A moment later Blake stormed back into the room. "The bet's not over. I bet that if I couldn't do it, it wasn't possible. It wasn't whether or not someone else could do it."

"You lost man."

"No he hasn't. He just had his instrument tuned wrong." I smiled as I handed his guitar off to him.

Blake mouthed a "Thank you" at me and took his guitar.

It wasn't perfect, and there were definitely some spots he needed some pointers on, but he played Spring. Hannah and I clapped for him when he was done. There was a look of triumph in his eye.

"Um, Mark, I think we just lost the bet," the other blond piped in for the first time.

"I think you're right, Sam."

There was general laughter. "So, Desdemona, you want to join us for dinner?" Mark was looking at me in an appraising manner.

"I'm only sixteen, Mark." I'd said that phrase a lot today. Mark looked a little downcast.

"Then you're perfect for me, Baby. I just turned seventeen," Sam said with an exaggerated leer.

Everyone laughed at this.

"You can take that up with my girlfriend," I replied.

"You're out of your league, Sam. Collect your brother and all five of us can head over to the cafeteria." Hannah held out her hand to me, and I figured I might as well take it.

"Hannah?"

"Oh hush, Blake. You know I love you. I'm just keeping Desdemona safe from male depredations right now."

There was some more general laughter at this.

"You know, guys, calling me by my full name all night is going to get tedious. My friends call me Desi."

"I think we can swing that."

After getting through the shell of aloofness that Blake had constructed, I found him to be a really neat guy. We talked about the guitar for about three hours before the other three decided it was time for a change of topic.

"So, Desi, have you given any serious thought about coming here?"

"It would mean that I would have to move out here, and I'm not sure if I like the idea."

"Your parents wouldn't go for it?"

"I'm a legally emancipated minor, so that wouldn't be a problem. No, my girlfriend will be going to college in Utah and I don't think I want to live that far away from her."

"You keep mentioning this mythical girlfriend."

"Yep, Gretchen." I pulled out my phone and showed them the pictures of Gretchen that I had saved in there.

"She's very pretty," Hannah said.

"She's special to me. It's not about the way she looks, but more the way she looks at me. I love her compassion for others and her drive to succeed."

"Maybe we'll have to meet her after you get accepted."

It was a nice thought, but I realized that I had been acting like Keith, but looking like Desdemona. If I were accepted here, I wanted to be accepted as Keith.

"Desi, is there something wrong?"

I gave a slight smile and shook my head. "Nothing really. The job is just getting to me. Even when you're as relatively unknown as I am, it can all get to you."

"Then quit," Blake replied.

I gave a little laugh at this, "Currently the benefits outweigh the costs. If that ever begins to change, then I'll drop it in a second."

"I think we girls need to freshen up a bit." It was only in that moment that I realized I was crying.

Hannah dragged me into the girls bathroom, which I only momentarily hesitated to enter. "You know, it's only going to be a couple of days at most before the others clue in to who you really are, Keith."

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

"The recording we saw online listed your names. Since you played the 12-string, that meant you had to be Keith. If you were trying to hide, you shouldn't have played Vivaldi."

"Oh crap."

"You don't much look like a Keith to me, by the way."

Everything was unravelling. I was nowhere near as careful as I thought I was. I wondered for a moment how superheroes did it. I tried to force a smile, but I just didn't have the heart for it right now.

"So, why the getup?"

"It's hard to be a rock star as a countertenor, so I put on the 'getup' to be a soprano."

"You're a real male soprano?"

I smiled and sang. Nothing with words, just a heartfelt note. The highest that I could hit. Her eyes widened a bit.

"You weren't kidding."

"Usually not, no."

"Well, I think the two of us have been here long enough. Let's get your makeup fixed and rejoin the boys."

I began to worry immediately. Too many people knew my secret already. Many of them weren't people who I could trust to keep it forever.

I took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out.

The smile I showed was genuine as we rejoined the boys at the table.

I mean the other boys. Crap. Who am I anymore?

"Guys, Desdemona won't be able to join us here."

"At least not for a couple more years."

"That's not what she meant. Desdemona is only an act I play on stage. I would be coming here as myself."

"That's fine with us, Desi. My brother just got accepted to the Pre-college program, so at least you'll have a familiar face if you come." Mark looked sincere, and I figured that he was still holding out some hope that in a year or two I might come to his side of the tracks.

"Look, I've already told too many people this weekend, but this is me. I'm still in costume because I had no real time after my sound check to go get changed at the hotel before I started walking around the city."

I handed them my driver's license. No, not the Desdemona one, my real one.

It felt as if I was finally admitting something when I did it. I was admitting something. Desdemona wasn't really me. I'd spent the past couple of months trying to convince myself that I could do this, could be Desdemona, but I couldn't.

It had been fun while it lasted. . .

"This is so AWESOME!!!!" Sam was practically crowing. "Let me guess, countertenor?"

"Well, yeah."

"Man, you look good in that getup. Wig?"

"Used to be. I was spending so much time 'in costume' this week that I figured it would be easier to just get my hair styled this way."

"You have bigger balls than I do, my man."

I looked at Blake a little strangely at his comment.

"I'd never be caught dead with a haircut like that, and that dress in the 'Bodies' video? Yeouch."

Hannah punched him in the arm, "You knew who he was all along?"

"I knew that he was Desdemona, yes, but I was so pissed that I couldn't get that piece of music right. Sorry about my behavior earlier. Friends?"

I was completely taken aback. What was with people?

I must have nodded yes, because they continued their excited talking, but I wasn't really following it anymore. Here, I'd figured that I was going to be outed before the whole country even before I released my CD, and they just thought it was a cool bit of trivia.

"Desi?"

How in the world did I fall in with the people who seemed to want to make it all work out for the better. I'd read a couple of years ago about the concept of Karma. Could it actually be that there was a cosmic balance to all things? All of the years I'd spent trying to be the best person I could be finally paying off?

"Desi?"

Something had allowed me to get with Gretchen, but was it just her finally giving in, or was there a deeper. . .

"Keith!"

"Wait, what?"

"You were zoning out there," Hannah said with an apologetic smile. "The guys think that they have the perfect idea."

"Well, it's more Sam's idea than anything. We set up a Keith Robison fan site, and we include your Vivaldi, and anything else specifically Keith we can find."

"There are some images on the schools website from when I played Ophelia."

They looked at me strangely.

"The drama teacher came up with this idea to do Hamlet in reverse. Start at the end, and go till you get to the beginning. She didn't end there. She had all of the boys play girl roles, and all the girls play boy roles. It was really weird, but I had a lot of fun."

"Desdemona is a regular renaissance woman."

"Acting. . .I need to call my agent about something."

I called Richard while everyone watched me. I squirmed a bit as the phone rang. "Richard?"

"Keith, so nice of you to call. I have some questions I need to ask you."

"Ok, great. First, if they still want me to do the role, could you tell whomever needs to know that I want to play Cory in 'When you love somebody'?"

"Okay. . .are you sure?"

"Acting is about what I do everyday anyway."

"Great. I got a strange call from Juilliard today."

I looked over at the people sitting around the table. "What did you do?" I said in a stage whisper. They were all suddenly looking in any direction but at me.

"I am sitting in the cafeteria attached to the dorms at Juilliard."

"Okay, well that explains half of it. Did you play. . ."

"Vivaldi? Yes. The first three movements of the Four Seasons."

"On guitar?"

"Yes, I was proving to someone here that it was possible."

"Well, apparently they were recording at the time because it was a class project. They have you on video tuning, and playing, the twelve string. They'd like a more formal audition, but said that your performance was enough that they are willing to waive the normal deadlines for this fall for their Pre-college course."

"But, my hair, my clothing, What am I going to do? I would want to go as Keith, not Desdemona."

Hannah was smirking in my direction. "Stop whining, it's not ladylike."

I glared at her. "You knew about this?"

"We figured out who you were the second you started playing. Blake left after we had enough to call our instructor to look at the tape."

"Keith!" I heard Richard calling from my phone.

"Yes?"

"The school knows that Desdemona is your persona on stage, and wants you to decide who you will be attending as. It will have to be one or the other, so as not to disrupt the other students."

"Wait a minute. How did they know to call you?"

"Keith, I've been your agent for two months, at least give me some credit. I've registered contact information with all of the necessary agencies. Signed you up for the necessary organizations. I do my job well, so you only have to worry about getting on stage and performing your heart out."

I gave a little giggle, and then looked around the table at the people who'd set me up, in a manner of speaking. "One last thing, Richard, do you set up my audition time with Juilliard, or do I?"

They gave a small cheer, and I shook my head.

"I can do that for you, since I've already had contact with them. I'm really glad you decided to at least try this. I'll get back to you with the information."

"Since I'm scheduled to fly out Monday evening, see if it's possible to get it done before then. Later, future-uncle-in-law."

He chuckled and replied, "bye, future-niece-in-law," before hanging up.

"Why did you all go to the trouble? How did you even get anyone to seriously consider it? This is all so overwhelming."

There were general chuckles as Hannah replied for all of them, "We have some excellent teachers here. They truly want talented people to reach their potential whenever possible. Well, that and the enrollment for the Pre-college program is a bit down this year. Apparently they've had fewer qualified people apply than spots available for new students."

"Well, that explains it."

"You're also really good. You've obviously spent a lot of time playing the guitar." Sam was still looking a bit star struck, and I now recognized it for what it was. There wasn't any of the need that I saw in Gretchen, or Owen before I'd told him the truth.

"Thanks for a wonderful day, guys, but I have to get up early. They want me back in the studio early tomorrow."

We exchanged contact information and I went out to catch a cab. I'd called just before I left the group, and Sam escorted me out of the building.

"I was mostly kidding earlier, but if you'd like to. . ." He blushed bright red, "Look, I know it's only skin deep, but you're a beautiful woman. It sort of messes with my head. If you're ever interested. . .date or something" He sort of trailed off.

"That's probably the best offer I've ever received, to tell the truth, from anyone, male or female. Thing is, Sam, there is only one person that I've ever truly loved. I'm sorry."

He brightened at my words. "I had to try, but to tell the truth I dreaded a yes almost as much as a no."

We both laughed at this, and on a strange impulse I kissed him on the cheek. "You're really sweet, Sam. There's a girl out there for you. One who will love you for the person you are."

"You're sweet." He smiled at me.

My cab arrived and took me to the hotel. As soon as I stepped foot into the lobby, a man walked up to me. "Ms. Desdemona?"

"Yes?"

"Your bags have already been taken up to your room, and we have a key for you at the front desk. My name is Ran, and if you need anything at all, I'm at your service."

"Ran is a strange name."

"It's the only shortening of Randal that I like." He said with a bit of a strained smile.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean anything by it." I think my look of horror mollified him a bit.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. I get a lot of people through here every day who seem to think that they own me. The pitfall of working in a hotel I guess. Your statement struck a raw nerve, as one of those type of regulars is currently staying in the hotel."

"I'm so sorry for you. Well, rest assured that I hope to never be 'one of those' myself. If I ever start moving in that direction, PLEASE call me on it."

"Yes, Ms. Desdemona," he replied in mock severity. He gave a slight bow with a flourish.

"My friends get to call me Desi."

The smile on his face told me I'd scored some points, for which I was glad. Truth be told I never did want to be one of those celebrities that everyone hated in real life.

I was escorted to the front desk where I had my credit card swiped and was given my key, which was another card. Richard had told me earlier that he preferred to have his talent use their own credit cards at hotels and then reimburse them for the cost of the suite from their expense account. It tended to prevent the type of activity that made the tabloids if they knew that everything except for the room would be coming out of their own pockets.

We rode up to the twentieth floor, and I was led to my room. If I hadn't known that I was only about halfway up this hotel, I'd have sworn that they were showing me into one of their best rooms in the hotel. It was a suite overlooking Central Park. I wondered for a moment what this was costing me.

"Thanks Ran. I'm sorry I don't carry cash on me. Is it possible to just bill a fifty dollar tip to my room?"

"Not unheard of, certainly. Have a good night, Desi."

I found a change of clothing already put away in the drawers, and went in to take a long, hot, shower. I had my head in the shower, and so missed the first couple of calls, but then it dawned on me that my phone was ringing.

I got out and answered. It was my Keith ring tone.

"Keith here."

A female voice answered me. "And here I thought you'd learned to simply listen when I called. For shame. How did you enjoy your time away from me? The authorities simply don't understand the bond that we have so I had to play a little trick on them. I know what you see in your little toy now, so I've decided to give her back to you. No plaything could ever come between us. Desdemona, so I decided to be the bigger person in this relationship."

The shock was almost more than I could bear. I sank into the chair next to the table where I'd left my phone. My arm went slack, but it felt as if my phone was welded in place.

"Are you there, Desdemona?"

"I'm here you sick twisted freak."

"I am twisted, but I'm truly in the best of health. I'm tying up a few loose ends here, cutting away some dead weight as it were, and then I'll be free to join you in New York."

"Bye." I hung up with no further reply. I called Gretchen. Sure the person had said that he or she wouldn't attack Gretchen any more, but could I really trust him or her?

"Hello?"

"Thank god you're safe. The person who kidnapped you isn't in police custody."

"What?!" I heard the phone clatter to the ground. "Etch!"

"I'm here. I was just startled. What should I do?"

"Where are you?"

"Still at the hospital."

"Stay there and call your Dad. I'll let Richard know, and hopefully one of us can get in touch with the police. Why won't this freak leave me alone?"

I heard her sobbing on the other end of the phone. "Etch, I'm sorry, it's my fault this happened to us. If I'd never become Desdemona. . ."

"You stop right there Keith Robison. Desdemona is the best thing that ever happened to you."

"No, Gretchen, you are. Look. I know what I said about waiting to get married. In a normal world we could just wait the year until I was eighteen, and live happily ever after. This world, for us, is far from normal. I don't know what the next year, or two, or even five will bring, but I know that I want you in it. Even if we are apart, I want to know you are connected to me, and me to you."

"Keith. . ."

"This is not how I wanted to ask you. This is not the emotion I wanted to be present. I've realized over the past week that without you I'm nothing. You're the reason I get on stage, and the reason I get up in the morning. You're the last thing I think about at night, and the first in the mornings."

"Keith." I could hear the smile in her voice, even if I could tell she was still crying.

"If you were a goddess I would be your prime acolyte, and spread the glory of you to the entire world."

I heard her laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Marry me, Gretchen. Let's give your parents their day, and we'll get married in September, but marry me and make me the happiest person in the entire world."

I heard her intake of breath. Sure, it was obvious where I'd been going but it still seemed the shock of me saying the words was enough to take her breath away.

"I told you that you'd know when I asked you to marry me."

She giggled, "wow, Keith. I don't know what to say."

I was getting a little worried, but did my best not to let it show in my words, "Yes is the normally expected response."

"Of course, Yes, you goof. No, I mean that your words took my breath away. That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, if not in the most romantic manner."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Never be sorry that you asked me to marry you."

"Never, beautiful."

"I'll call my Dad and let him know you finally formally asked me to marry you, and then get his butt out here to protect me while you can't."

"I love you, Etch. Always."

"I love you, Keith. Forever."

I hung up the phone.

There was a lot to do in the next twenty-four hours, not the least of which was to let the police know that they had the wrong person. Suddenly getting into Juilliard and appearing on SNL seemed small potatoes, as I would be marrying Gretchen within the next few months. So little time to get everything sorted. So much time before I would be joined to her forever.

Edited by the ever patient Julia Phillips. Thank you for all of your help with this episode.