Reality TV by Erin Halfelven

In the end, they decided to skip the colored locks because the effect of the mass of platinum curls was so powerful. "It needs an off-side touch, though," said Penny. "Too much balance is boring."

"Could you bring the hair down over my left eye?" asked Wren. "I don't see much out of that one anyway."

"Really? Hmmm," said Penny. She worked quickly, adjusting the part and pulling one of the shorter, natural locks out and spraying it into place. It seemed to satisfy her and she stepped out of the way so Wren could see with her good eye.

"Yow," said Wren softly.

"I like it," said Penny. "It's modern but retro at the same time. Jayne Mansfield might have worn her hair like this, or Marilyn. But it's almost wild enough for Lady Gaga."

Wren laughed. "I don't think anyone is going to recognize me."

"Well, once they see you now, they'll recognize you," promised Penny. "Are we all done?"

"How do I take care of all this hair?" asked Wren. "And how do I recreate this look?"

They spent some time on instruction, demonstration and a little hands on education before Wren heard Phil at the door.

"Yow," he said.

Wren laughed. "That's what I said."

Phil tapped the cameraman on the shoulder and said, "That's it for the evening, fellas. Thanks."

The cameraman and sound tech started shutting down their gear and packing things away. They were the third crew who had worked with Wren during the day and had had the shortest shift.

Phil came around the crew to take one of Wren's hands in both of his, "You're stunning," he said.

She blushed. "This is going to take some getting used to. I look like a starlet."

"That's the idea," said Phil. He smiled at her and said nothing for a moment longer that Wren was comfortable with.

* * *

They spent a few more minutes talking with the salon crew but finally, Phil led Wren out of the shop and onto the street without going back into the studio. The side street ran along the studio's eastern side, away from the big gates and parking structure but Phil had moved his car to a smaller parking lot across the street. A blinking yellow caution light guarded a crosswalk and Phil somehow, naturally it seemed, took Wren's arm as they crossed the street.

Wren seemed a bit amused at this, it was a step into increased familiarity, but she didn't resist. With her new hair and more dramatic makeup, she felt on display and welcomed a reassuring touch from someone she trusted. Without much surprise, she made a mental note that she apparently did trust Phil.

Phil held the door on his Lexus for her and closed it when she said, "Thanks," then he scurried around the car to get in on the driver's side. He'd done this before but almost in an ironic way, it seemed more sincere now.

She sat almost sideways in the seat, one knee up, turned so she could see him without turning her head so far to the side. She gave him a dimpled smile as he climbed in, but he warned her, "You'd better buckle up. We're going through county area and the deputies love to give out click-it tickets."

She frowned but turned to sit square in the seat and buckled her belt. "Makes it hard to see you," she said.

"Sorry. Maybe we'll take the show to England so you can sit on this side and I won't be in your blindspot. Or hidden by that hair."

She grinned. "I'd like that," she admitted. She brushed a hand through her hair, carefully so as not to disturb the set.

Phil was quiet for a while as they cruised down the boulevard toward Hollywood. He kept glancing toward Wren and she smiled when she caught him at it.

"Where's this place we're going?" Wren asked.

"For dinner? It's called The Hungry Cat. It's in Hollywood. But I thought we might make another stop first. When's the last time you saw a doctor?"

Wren didn't answer right away. "More than a year," she said finally.

"This is a doctor who has kind of a specialty in Hollywood," said Phil. "I thought you might like to see him."

"Huh. He keeps late office hours?" It was after six, most doctors Wren knew of closed before that.

"Oh, yeah," said Phil. "Dr. Tran caters to a particular clientele, in and around Hollywood. Performers, most of them."

Wren nodded. "I think I'm getting the idea. Okay, let's stop. As long as it doesn't take too long, I am getting hungry."

* * *

Dr. Henry Tran turned out to be a small man of indeterminate age, probably of Vietnamese ancestry, or possibly Chinese. He had no accent and the diplomas on his walls showed degrees from Stanford, Houston and UCLA in various medical specialties accumulated over the last ten years or so. He also had board certifications from the American Institute for Metabolic and Endocrinologic   Research and Treatment and the American Board of Cosmetic Surgery hanging on his wall.

Wren waited in a small examining room wearing a back-to-front gown after having stripped down to panties. She didn't have to wait long, Dr. Tran entered and smiled at her. "The x-rays are good so we won't have to retake them. Did Miss Eulisle get a blood sample?"

Wren nodded, the technician had stabbed her in two fingertips and the bend of her left elbow which now had a circular bandaid in place.

"Hmm," said Dr. Tran. "I'll need to see the blood tests which we won't get back for another week but the x-rays and my exam are fairly disgnostic, Miss Andrews." Since Phil had told her that most of Dr. Tran's patients were in show business in one form or another, she had used her professional name.

His smooth brown face looked friendly, reassuring and interested.   "You present a rather unusual case, Miss Andrews. You're just under five foot four inches tall, and you weigh only ninety four pounds. You have no pubic hair and very little body hair at all with a small amount of gynecomastia. The x-rays confirm that you have the skeletal development of someone who has not yet reached puberty."

He continued smiling as he spoke. "I'll want confirmation from blood work but it looks as if you have a condition sometimes called delayed puberty accompanying hypogonadism. Do you know what that means?"

"I think so," said Wren. "I got a similar diagnosis about a year ago from my doctor in Lancaster. He wanted to send me to UCLA for more tests."

"Wouldn't hurt," agreed Dr. Tran. "We could rule out certain chromosomal abnormalities with tests. I can't get you an appointment with the right lab over there before next week. I'm confident of my initial diagnosis but I don't know enough of what might be the cause of your condition. Did anyone else in your family have a delayed puberty?"

Wren nodded. "My father, Woody. He was doing stunts in his twenties for children because he still looked young. He didn't have much body hair until he was twenty and didn't have to shave until he was twenty-seven, he told me."

Dr. Tran nodded. "Not common but not exactly rare either. Human development has a lot of variables in it. You're seventeen but you have the muscular, testicular and skeletal development of someone who is about twelve, pre-pubertal.   Assuming nothing in further tests contraindicates, the conventional treatment would be to induce puberty with gonadotropic hormones and possibly testosterone supplements."

Wren looked down and away.

Dr. Tran continued. "I'm assuming from your presentation and appearance and what I have learned about your career that this would not be desirable at this time."

She shook her head.

Dr. Tran nodded. "You're already a year past the recommended best age for starting such an intervention and the earlier such a thing is done, generally, the better the results in terms of normal development. But what is normal anyway but a statistical average that ignores the idiosyncrasies of individual cases. And desires."

Wren looked up and smiled a crooked little smile.

Dr. Tran smiled back. "You could be a very lucky young lady in some ways. Depending on the blood work, we could start a different treatment regimen within a week or so. One aimed at a more personally desired course of physical development."

She said nothing.

"A female puberty if that's how you would like to proceed," said Dr. Tran. "Your father already signed a medical release form, you know."

Wren frowned. "The doctor I saw before said that that could put me at risk for cancer. Gonadal cancer."

Dr. Tran snorted. "Everything is a risk but there are obvious ways to minimize that one depending on what your ultimate goal is."

"I.... I don't know," said Wren. "But I don't want to grow muscles or a beard."

"Well," said Dr. Tran. "You certainly have time to find out more about what you do want. In the meantime, we'll get some more tests done. And there are some minor things we can do to improve your current presentation."

"Like what?" asked Wren.