Monday, New York reprise, and a cliff?

After my almost gate rape the last time I went through the airport, I decided that today I wasn't taking any chances. Besides that, I wanted to be Keith. So, I put on my brunette wig, wore my more or less androgynous clothing, and left my purse behind.

That doesn't mean that I didn't keep both IDs in my wallet.

You know, after the weeks I'd been going out exclusively as Desdemona, I felt naked leaving the house without a purse. I really needed to buy myself a car.

Gretchen had allowed me to take her baby to the airport. She didn't want to have to get up at four in the morning to drive me, so she just told me to go ahead and take it. So, in the lessening gloom I drove Rachel and myself to the airport for my flight out to New York.

Even if it had been two weeks since I was there, it really felt like I had just come from there.

For some reason, my thoughts felt so much more shattered than normal. It might have been the fact that I was Keith running around with Rachel, or the fact that I'd been almost running myself ragged the last half of the previous week.

I was so ready to get this over with.

Now that I was on my way to the audition, I finally had a moment to actually think about it, and I wondered if this was something I wanted. Gretchen and I were getting married this fall. She was already accepted at BYU, and I was planning on living in New York. How was that going to work?

I can't believe I never thought about this at the time. What was wrong with me? Well, beyond being a teenager.

I began laughing a bit at that. Rachel looked at me inquiringly, but I just shook my head.

She shrugged her shoulders and went back to what she'd been working on. I think it was a sudoku book.

Driving the roads in Utah is one of the most boring tasks I know of. Long straight highways interspersed with complex interchanges for a little bit of variety. So, it leaves you a lot of time to talk, or think, with nothing to really interrupt.

Or a lot of time to do a lot of nothing.

We got to the airport and got through security without much fuss this time. First class this time, since I'd purchased the tickets, so I got a couple of hours sleep in the lounge while our plane arrived, the passengers disembarked and it was being cleaned.

We got in our seats and I went back to sleep.

I knew it was a dream the entire time, but that almost made it worse.

I was driving home from the airport when I got a call. "Hello, Desdemona. I missed you so much when they took me to jail that I just needed to get out and come to you. How could you not be home when I came here."

"What are you talking about, Gretchen?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot," the voice slowly changed into that of Lady Anne.

"I was talking to Gretchen in her own voice, figuring it would prolong it all a little."

"You'd better not have hurt her, you freak."

"It wasn't painful, for one of us."

I was rushing through the door of our home, and there was blood everywhere. I rushed to our bedroom and I smelled the stench before I saw the broken body. I turned away, not able to look, but so wanting to do nothing but.

"Gretchen!"

I collapsed to my knees on the floor. I was broken. I couldn't do anything. I didn't even resist when Lady Anne pulled me to my feet and dragged me to the bathroom.

"So, Desdemona, where will we start. . . "

The plane accelerating for takeoff woke me from the dream and I let loose a shuddering sob. My face was covered in tears, which I futilely wiped away. They just kept coming.

I'm sure it wasn't part of her job description, but as soon as the fasten seatbelts light was extinguished Rachel was out of her seat and she took me in her arms.

"Shh. It was just a dream, Keith."

"I can't protect her. I'm supposed to be the man in this relationship and I can't protect her."

"Keith, do you want to talk about it?"

Hesitatingly at first, and then with growing confidence I related the short dream to her. As I began retelling it, it seemed so silly, but the fear and anguish of losing Gretchen had felt so real to me, even as I knew somewhere in my mind she was safe.

"You survived something that not many adults are prepared for, Keith. You may be legally emancipated, but you're still a teen emotionally. The advice you gave Jake would be a good thing for you when we get back to Utah, Keith. Talk to Dr. Allen."

"I'm strong enough. . ."

"No, you're not. You've already talked to him once about things, why don't you go back?"

"Because. . .I want to be. . .I need."

I took a deep breath and shared something with this relative stranger that I couldn't share with anyone else in my life.

"I'm losing myself, Rachel. I used to be this self-contained person. I was the one who people went to for solutions. What am I now? Some weak girly boy who has to hide behind a mask in order to be popular?"

"Keith?"

"No, it's about what I feel. I feel like I'm betraying myself when I get on stage, Ok? I want to quit, even though I love my fans. I want to run and hide my face from everyone because I'm too weak to do this.

"Dressing up. . .I enjoy it. That makes me weak too. I try to show everyone how okay I am with it. I want Gretchen to know I'm okay with it. But I'm not okay. I've never been okay. I'm a weak scared little boy who hates himself.

"I don't deserve what I've gotten. No one who is willing to lie as much as I have deserves it. I'm afraid that one morning everyone is going to wake up and all they're going to think is, who was Desdemona anyway, really?

"I can't keep doing this. I don't deserve this. I am filthy and unclean. I'm not fit for society, and society should leave me alone."

I kept rambling like this, but the sobs were more than the words. Rachel just held me as I cried and could not get a hold on myself. When I was cried out, I simply lay there whispering these foul things to myself over and over again.

Finally, Rachel set me down and slapped me.

"What was that for?"

"You've had your moment. Now, stop wallowing. You've got a lot of people rooting for you. I saw your family during your birthday. You have the love of a pretty young woman, and you have a lot of friends that rely upon your strength. Sure, it's tough on you, but guess what? Life is tough. There was a movie that I watched as a kid that had the perfect line for times like this:

"Life IS pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

I couldn't help it. I chuckled a bit at this.

"Now, go to the lavatory and clean yourself up a bit."

I washed my face in the lukewarm water and really looked at myself in the mirror. It was till me starting back. No makeup today. Just puffy eyes. I smiled at the mirror and my reflection smiled back at me.

After a couple of minutes I went and sat back down, but it seemed that Rachel wasn't through with me yet.

"Keith, when you get back home, get some help. You are too talented to let something like this destroy you. And if you have to let the world know that you are the one behind the music and mystique that is Desdemona, then do it."

"I'll think about it, Rachel."

I still wasn't ok, but I might be able to get there from where I was.

The rest of the flight, thankfully, was uneventful. We drove from the airport to Juilliard and I went inside to have my fate determined.

In the audition room, there were a couple of what I could only assume were judges, a guitar, acoustic of course, and a stool for me to sit on.

"Keith Robison? You can begin whenever you're ready."

I took a moment to make sure the guitar, a 6-String, was tuned properly, and then I began to play. Flawless, it wasn't. I picked out every moment where I had a hesitation, a missed fret, or a sour note.

Well, that was just the first song. Toward the end of the song I loosened up, and the other pieces I'd prepared went a lot more smoothly. I even started to get into it and add the little flourishes that I enjoyed so much when I was on stage. Nothing out of character for the piece, but I made it mine, as opposed to playing from a script.

One of the two judges was smiling when I finished.

"Thank you, Mr. Robison. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you for this opportunity."

I retrieved my sheet music from the floor where I'd set it down, and the second judge spoke, "Were you reading from that while playing? I noticed you glancing down at it a couple of times. . ."

"Oh, sorry, I know I shouldn't have had it with me, but they want me down the hall next. My manager thought it would be a good idea to keep my options open. Here, take a look, if you'd like."

"Well, it's definitely not the music you were playing. Mind if I walk you to the other room?"

"Not at all."

As we left the room, the second judge was still looking at my sheet music. "So, I take it this is an unpublished piece, and it was composed by you?"

"Yes, I prepared it last week. Quite a bit different from what I usually write."

"How so?"

"Usually I'm writing for four parts, not the twenty-six I have here."

"String quartet?" the judge said with a knowing smirk.

"Rock band actually."

"Oh?" he seemed a little inscrutable at that point, "anything I'd know?"

"'Daddy's Little Princess' is on the radio a lot right now."

"Wait, you wrote that?"

"Yes. I wrote that in a single morning, refined it during recording."

"Ok, so now I'm more than impressed. How long did you spend working on this?"

"Three days, but I don't know if that's impressive or not. The voice line has no words, since I simply couldn't think of any that fit. Am considering replacing it with a flute, but I haven't decided yet."

"You don't feel this is a finished work?"

"No, but I feel it is complete. Everything else is interpretation."

"Why the sudden shift in percussion here?"

"Well, I needed the audience to hear the sudden shift in the wakefulness of the dreamer."

"Dreamer?"

"Oh, crap. One minute. Do you have a pen?"

"Sure."

I took the sheet music and the pen and I quickly scrawled the name of the piece across the top of the first page. "Solitary Dreamer".

"I know, pretentious, but it's what I was thinking about when I wrote this."

We entered the room, and there was only one judge this time. Well so it seemed until the person who'd been walking with me sat in the second seat.

"That was a bit sneaky, wasn't it?"

"Sometimes it is necessary."

"So, you two have a good talk, Dr. Jacobs?"

"Yes, and apparently one of our young hopeful's works is playing on the radio."

"Oh?"

"'Daddy's Little Princess.'"

"Really? Mind if I ask you to sing it, Mr. Orbison? The bass line if you please." The second judge was pretty in a disciplinarian sort of way.

"That could be a bit of a problem, Ma'am."

She smirked a bit at my discomfort.

"Because I am a countertenor, ma'am."

"Really?"

I sang the first section of Daddy's Little Girl.

Dr. Jacobs was a bit shocked, but the woman smiled. "Exactly as I thought. You are the person who sang that on the radio, aren't you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then why come here pretending to be a boy?"

I started laughing. I couldn't help it. As I laughed I tossed my driver's license to her.

"Notice the M and not the F. There is a reason, however, why I take on a female persona on stage. No one would actually believe I was a guy."

Dr. Jacobs shook his head slightly, and then picked up the sheet music to try to dissuade his colleague from further side tracks.

"So, Keith," he emphasized the name, "why don't you sing this passage here for us?"

He gestured to one of the more challenging sections for the oboe. It was toward the end of the piece following a short nightmare segment I'd envisioned in part of it. It was a calming period for most of the instruments, but I still had the oboe racing as well, as a pounding percussion. Heart and mind still coming to grips with the reality that they'd simply been asleep.

I sang the segment clear through to the end, even without looking at the music.

They had me sing a couple of other sections, and then asked me to explain my use of percussion in a couple of sections.

It took almost two hours for me to get through that audition, but I felt a lot better about it, overall, than I did about my guitar audition. It felt technically perfect at least.

"Thank you, Mr. Robison. We'll contact you with our decision."

I smiled, retrieved my ID, and headed out to a waiting Rachel.

"How do you keep fading into the background?"

"Practice. That and the fact that you get so engrossed when talking about music that the entire world around you disappears."

"I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Gretchen and I had some long discussions about it last week."

I snorted at this.

"Keith!"

"Sam?"

"Hey, I heard through the grapevine that you had an audition today."

"Yeah, just got done."

"Weren't going to slip out without saying hello, were you?"

"Well, I do have another six hours until my flight back home."

"Utah, right?"

"Yep."

"Well, come join me for lunch. The others will likely be happy to hear how your audition went."

I looked over at Rachel who nodded.

"I so totally didn't notice you there, and I try not to miss the pretty ones. I'm Sam."

Rachel smiled at him, "I caught that. Rachel. I'm a friend of Keith's."

"You're not his girlfriend, are you?"

"No, his fiancée has me keeping an eye on him."

"Dude, you're engaged? Congratulations! Um, aren't you a bit young?"

"Sure, but isn't that what it means to be a teenager? To be too young for pretty much everything you really want to do?"

Sam laughed at this and we headed off in search of his brother and friends.

We found them in the cafeteria.

"So, you found our wayward disciple, huh, Sam?"

"Last I checked, I wasn't anyone's wayward anything."

"So glad to officially meet you, Keith," Hanna said.

"That goes for me as well," Blake said, "who ran your audition?"

"Only person I am sure of is Dr. Jacobs. In the guitar audition there was a guy in horn rimmed glasses with a bad comb-over, and in my composition audition there was a librarian looking woman with a bun that seemed tight enough to hold her brains in."

"That was Dr. Inez in the guitar audition," said Blake.

"And that might have been Dr. Hunter?" Hannah said looking at Mark.

"Yeah, that sounds like Dr. Hunter to me."

Sam looked over at me after their confirmations, "How do you think it went?"

"Well, I made some technical mistakes on the guitar. I only started practicing on Friday morning."

"Why did you put it off so long?" Blake asked.

"Well, I had my birthday and getting a image consultant, court, practicing for the Stadium of Fire, performing in the Stadium of Fire. . .well that was the week before last. Then last week I composed a song and practiced my music. I finished composing late Thursday so that's why I didn't practice 'til Friday."

"Oh, the trials and tribulations of the rock star, right bro?" Mark said.

"Yeah, I mean it's not like you can fly to New York first class on a moment's notice."

I blushed a deep red.

"Oh my god, you did fly out here first class."

"Wow, how much money do you have?"

"I don't know? I don't use that much of it, and I'm still selling albums on iTunes as well as individual songs. I asked Richard to deal with it."

"Well, why not call him and find out?"

I chuckled at this, and gave Richard a call.

"Hey, Desi, I'm glad that you called. We've been asked to play the Utah State Fair in September, since we're a local band. I'm still working out dates for your tour. iTunes wants to renegotiate our rate with the distribution company. We have a small concert in Denver. Apparently the Hole in the Wall wants us to actually play there so that they earn something out of the use of their stamp. That will be later in the week. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Wow, talk about the fire hose. Glad to hear what's going on. So, I wanted to check on how my finances are going."

"Well, I've been keeping a constant $10,000 in your checking account for use with your Desdemona band card. I have an additional $10,000 in your Keith account. I know we didn't discuss that, but I figured you'd appreciate it."

"Yes, I do."

"At your current rate of spending in both accounts, you have enough in your high yield savings to live for about sixty years."

"You dork. I have only spent. . .oh wait. I spent $5400 this month on engagement rings." I blushed at this.

"So, for the two months I have tracking data for, yes, that is about $3400 per month, or. . ."

"Ok, wow. Really? I have that much currently? That means. . .three hundred years of spending not including the rings. . .or. . .how many albums have we sold?"

"On iTunes alone we've sold 478,125."

"Are they paying us on the per song rate?" I asked.

"You mean 57%?"

"Yeah. . ."

"We take a 50% hit in our normal profit for the album, which I was only able to negotiate because we already had a presence on iTunes, or I should say our second iTunes album. $9.99 list price per album.

"We are still selling copies of our original iTunes album, which is listed at $5 even. We get the full 57% for that one. We've sold more copies of that one. We're up to 801,002 copies of that album sold."

The blood drained from my face. I suddenly realized how much money I was making. The large numbers started really making sense, and it scared me witless. Assume 500,000, and for the moment round down to $5 per album in profit.

Simple math. Just from the first album, Up in Flames was grossing $1,250,000. Now, this was by far better than the $0.02 per physical CD that Spotlight produced, and I didn't much care about the numbers of those. Really, it was chump change.

The original album, at an assumed $2 in profit got another $1,600,000 gross for Up in Flames. This didn't include singles sales at $0.57 cents in profit each. This didn't include the video at $2.85 in profit per download.

"Desi, you there?"

"I'm here, Richard. Um, so, I'm really a millionaire after we figure your cut, and the bands cut?"

"Multi, yes. And we haven't received our payment for Stadium of Fire yet. Contractual issues there, but I expect somewhere between fifty and a hundred for that."

"You mean thousand?"

"Of course. And we're finalizing negotiations with MTV for the footage of your impromptu concert of 'Bodies'. Apparently they paid royalties for that to Drowning Pool. Drowning Pool has already paid us the royalties, we're just negotiating for proper credit now."

"Wait, that's so much more than what you were saying about my high yield account."

"Oh, there's about a million in your college fund now. I'm not putting any more in there."

"Kisses, Richard. I'm about to die of shock."

"Later, Desi."

Everyone was looking at me with wide eyes. I tried a weak smile.

"Dude, really?" Sam asked. He was the first to find his voice.

"Yes, really. I'm. . .shocked to say the least. I knew I had $10,000 in Desdemona's account, but I have that in my account as Keith as well. I'm. . ."

"Yeah, you're filthy, stinking. . ." Mark began.

"Loaded." Hannah continued.

"My new best friend," Blake concluded to general laughter.

"More seriously, I'm trying to be a little circumspect with this. I can maintain my current lifestyle for sixty years right now if I neither earn any more money, nor increase spending."

"Well, I doubt either of those will remain the same."

"You'd actually be surprised, Blake. I'm a pretty frugal guy."

"Remember what I said about being my new best friend? I only allow rich people who put out for that role."

We all laughed again.

"So, Keith. Want to go catch a Broadway show at the last minute?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd actually be more interested in looking for an apartment I could either buy or rent."

Hannah giggled a bit at this. "Normally I'd tell someone that it would be hard to do in New York proper, but with the amount of leverage you have, and by leverage I mean money, you don't have that problem."

This was truly strange for me. Not that I had so much money, but that I realized that none of the money meant anything to me. After the initial shock, I realized it was all a simple matter of scale. I had more than I needed before I sang for the first time. I had more than I needed.

And this was just, more.

Sure, it was cool having this MUCH more, but it was simply more.

I needed to figure out something worthwhile to do with my money, and that would require some thought. Especially since I was covered until I was 77 right now.

"Earth to Keith."

"Sorry, guys. I got lost in my thoughts."

I had a pleasant afternoon, and Rachel even joined in after a little while. I think she was beginning to get a bit of a crush on Mark, but figured it wasn't my place to interfere.

Course, if the looks he was throwing her way were any indication, then he was more than a little infatuated himself.

Another airport, and another flight in first class.

Before I knew it, I was pulling into the driveway. Everything was perfect for me.

"Keith! I'm so glad you're home. No one can find Jake. No note or anything." Gretchen was in tears and Susanne was right behind her.

"It's all my fault. We were talking about my sister, and I was sitting close to him and he went in for a kiss, and I denied him and he ran out and. . ."

"Sooz, you did the right thing. If you don't think he's ready, or you're not ready, don't allow him to force you into it. Has he been talking to Dr. Allen?"

"He keeps breaking his appointments."

"Oh crap."

I took a couple of deep breaths and simply relaxed. Where could he be? Where would he have gone?

"I assume you've checked his house?"

"He hasn't been home since he was with me."

"Gretchen, would you go wait at his house?" At her nod I turned to Susanne, "let's go look for him."

I began to walk toward the desert behind my house. The sun was already beyond the horizon and it was beginning to get dark. It would be hours yet before it was really completely dark, but the desert is like that. Nothing to obstruct your view of the sky.

We walked in silence for a while before Susanne began to talk.

"Keith, am I doing something wrong with Jake?"

"I see you think you are."

She took a deep breath and nodded, "yes, I think I'm hurting him by staying with him. He's such a special person, and I'm. . ."

"You're special as well. You work tech."

"I'm in the background, Keith. That's where I've always been happy. Out of the spotlight, but with you and Jake, I feel like it keeps finding me."

"And you don't like the attention."

"No, I hate the attention. I hate people seeing me. I worry about it as well."

"Because you're afraid of what they'll see," I stated.

"I'm not a very good person. I'm petty and I'm conniving. I convinced Buffy to come out so that people would focus more on her than on me. So that I would become more invisible. I wanted her so big in the public mind that no one ever thought of me at all."

"Really? You don't love your sister at all?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I like her more as my sister. I loved to spend time with her when we were kids. She was so alive. I felt more alive with her than I did any time I was alone."

"Don't you want that again?"

"Of course. I want to feel alive, but it is so much more comfortable in the shadows. I like being missed, but having all of my actions seen by everyone. Attributed to other people. I don't know if I can handle this. . .this fame. I don't want fifteen seconds let alone fifteen minutes."

"That's a misunderstanding of the initial quote anyway."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. So, how do you feel with Buffy in pain?"

"Pain? She's happier than she's ever been. Her light fills the room and blinds me."

"Sooz. . ."

"No, it's true. She is a better person than I am. I wanted nothing more than to have Jake be with me, and I ignored everything that could interrupt that. I ignored your warnings. I ignored my own conscience.

"I had sex with him last night, Keith. And today, I went back on my own decision and pushed him away from a kiss. I was gross feeling and sore and I felt so guilty for what I was doing to him. I was telling him that as long as we were behind closed doors, it was fine for us to be together, but in public. . ."

"Suzi. . ."

"I screwed up, Keith. I needed to have him so badly that I ignored everything that everyone else was saying to me. I thought it would make everything better between us, but it only made everything worse."

"Sooz, sex isn't a therapy tool."

"Don't you think I know that. . .now?"

"You should have known it before. All sex does, when used without love or respect or compassion, is make your relationship worse. Both of you know you're using the other person, and feel used in return. Sure, for a one night stand that might work, but with someone you deal with on a regular basis?"

"Sure, leave it for a guy to say something like that. Men have casual sex all the time."

"Technically, I'm a virgin, Susanne."

"But I thought. . .you and Gretchen. . ."

"We've never gone all the way, I guess you could say. No orgasms. No ejaculation or petting or manual manipulation."

"You two have this comfortable vibe about you. It's as if neither of you has any secrets with the other. It's only ever married couples that I see this with, well and the occasional long term couple living together. I thought it was holding nothing back, including your body, from the other person that brought that closeness."

"That sort of my point. This sort of relationship takes work, and a willingness to be hurt to achieve. It takes being absolutely vulnerable. Making love can speed that up, but sex can't."

"I thought sex and making love were the same thing."

"If they are, then how does an actress make love to the camera, or a singer make love with her audience?"

"Figures of speech?"

"It is about opening yourself. Showing the entirety of your person to someone else, and not holding anything back. It is knowing someone else can hurt you more than anyone else in the world, and accepting that. It is the other person knowing that you are open and accepting responsibility for your well being.

"It is communication. It is love at its most raw and refined, its core essence."

Susanne was breathing a little heavily. Apparently I was being a little passionate with my words. "Damn, but you have a way with words. I've never felt this release, even when. . .well Jake knows a lot of how to bring pleasure."

"Most of that is you, Susanne. You were thinking about your real relationship with Jake. I can see the two of you. I know how you both feel. He just needs time. And so do you. You're fifteen, girl. You're too young for all of this."

"I know, it's just. . .I want so much to comfort him."

"Well, like I said. Without a strong relationship, sex becomes nothing more than a physical need you're filling. It will destroy a relationship that is just taking root."

"Have I ruined everything?"

"Well, that's for you and Jake to determine."

"I feel so. . .ashamed."

"That's something for you to do some soul. . .you've got to be kidding me."

I knew the place where we were. It was the same bowl depression, and the same crumpled form in the center. This time, however, it would not be Buffy barely clinging to life.

I rushed over to the still form, and the deja vu intensified. Jake was covered in blood. He'd slashed through one of his wrists, but had been unable to complete the other one. From the way his left hand was flopping, I think he severed the tendon.

"JAKE!?!" Susanne was screaming and crying, "JAKE, speak to me. You've got to be okay. Keith, do something. No, no, no, no. JAKE! Honey. Don't leave me. Don't abandon me here in this place!

"I love you."

Edited by the ever patient Julia Phillips.