There it was 1am and I was standing out in the cold…by choice no less! Maybe it’s not so surprising. I mean, I always took my breaks outside no matter what the temperature. Okay, if it was raining or snowing I’d stay in the club, but otherwise I’d rather spend my 15 minutes breathing some air that didn’t smell like stogies.

Anyway, I was out there leaning on my car while the other guys passed around a joint, which is just not my thing but then who am I to say anything. After all, if they knew what my thing was they’d probably beat the crap out of me. My greatest wish is to be a woman. See why I didn’t tell the guys?

Just as we were about to head back in to play the last set of the night I heard a commotion from over by the dumpster. I turned to look and saw one of the club regulars, a guy named Joey something running away as fast as he could. Momentarily I wondered if I should go see what was going on, but then remembered that as it was time to get back to work the last thing I needed was for that jerk of a club owner to short the money because I was a few minutes late coming back from break.

First thing we did once we were back on stage was start in with some old country, mostly two steps and what Bob the band’s front man liked to call ‘bellyrubbers’, which I guess is what some country boys call slow dances.

As we began the set I found myself thinking about the path that had brought me to that point. To say I had no idea how I had gotten there would be a lie, because the truth of the matter was I knew exactly what had brought me there.

I’d started out with one goal in life…to be a great jazz bassist…and I was on my way to achieving that goal. I was studying with Rufus Reid at Indiana State and making great progress. It was quite a coup getting in with Rufus. After all, he was the author of one of the most widely studied texts for the instrument, ‘The Evolving Bassist’, which of course everyone there had pretty much memorized by the time they were done with their Freshman year.

Truth is, my bass was my only friend in the world at that time. I was getting better all the time and had even started picking up some playing jobs, which helped make me a little bit less of a starving college student. Unfortunately, even with the advances in my professional life I was alone. Maybe a lot of that was self-inflicted, as I was very confused about myself.

Music was the only thing that kept me going most of the time. When I wasn’t playing, I had no idea who I was. I was conflicted about pretty much everything in my life and as a result I generally went out of my way to avoid getting involved with anyone.

Much of my conflict came from questions about gender. A very large part of me was absolutely certain I was a Transsexual, but then there was this little voice in the back of my head that kept telling me not to do anything about it. I had finally come to terms with things, but was too scared to do anything about it. As a result, I was still Harry to everyone except me. In my heart, I was Hannah.

I was trying my best to be a ‘normal’ guy despite those persistent feminine feelings. I’d like to think that I was successful enough that nobody knew my secret. Heck, sometimes I wasn’t even sure I knew…

…I was sitting in the student union doing some homework when out of the blue this girl comes up to me and asks, “Can I join you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re doing okay with me.”…

It had been a long time since I’d thought about that day and frankly it left me almost as off balance as when it actually happened. After that, I tried to keep my mind focused on my playing and I felt like that last part of the set was the best I’d played in a long time. I doubt anyone else noticed, though. After all, we were playing country and as long as the beat remained steady nobody was going to notice the bass player.

With ten minutes left in the night, Bob stepped down off the stage and let the guys and I close out the night with a couple of rock numbers. Once that was done the other guys joined Bob at a table for a few drinks while I packed up my basses, since I’m not terribly fond of drinking to be quite honest.

I carried my stuff out to the car and just as I was about to head back in to collect my pay for the night, I heard a sound from over where I’d seen Joey running before. Worrying that there might be someone hurt over there…after all this Joey character had a reputation for being a bit of a tough guy…I went to take a look.

Lying there on the ground in a pool of his own blood was another one of the regulars, though I didn’t know his name. Running back inside, I threw open the door and shouted, “There’s somebody hurt bad out by the dumpster!”

The club owner sent one of the waitresses to check it out while he finished counting up the drawer and she promptly threw up all over the guy, who was no longer moving or making any kind of sound.

“Come with me,” I said to her as I led her back inside. Going up to the bar I shakily said to the owner, “I think the guy may be dead out there.”

“Well crap!” he exclaimed, his response taking me by surprise. “They’ll shut us down for at least a week this time!”

Looking over at the guys, I started to ask what he meant when Bob said, “I thought things were gettin’ better, Billy!”

The owner responded, “Yeah, we’d chased off some of the bad eggs, but they don’t seem to want to go.” He then picked up the phone and called the police.

We had to hang around until they got there, not only because we might be needed as witnesses but because Billy hadn’t paid us yet. I can’t explain it, but as we listened to the sounds of the approaching patrol cars I found my attention being drawn toward the door and beyond it the body lying out there.

Once the police arrived on the scene all attention was directed toward them as they interviewed all of us in search of clues that might help them solve the crime. Somehow I wound up last on their list, so I had to sit there quietly for over an hour before I could tell them what I’d seen.

“So you’re the one who found the body?” asked one of the officers.

“Yeah, when we were on our last break I heard a noise from over by the dumpster just before we went back inside for the last set and I saw this guy Joey running away from there. Then after we’d finished I carried my instruments out to the car and heard something from over there again. Curiosity got the better of me so I went to take a look and found this guy dying,” I said before pausing to try and calm my nerves.

After writing down a few notes the officer asked, “You mentioned the first man by name. How do you know him?”

“He’s a regular around here. They both are actually, but Joey’s something of a troublemaker.”

Turning his attention momentarily back toward Billy, the officer asked, “You know who he’s talkin’ about?”

Turning pale, Billy responded, “I’m not sure I wanna say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said putting great emphasis on ‘mean’, “I know what this guy is capable of and I’d rather not wind up as the next notch on his gun handle.”

With the ‘gun handle’ comment the officer’s demeanor changed dramatically, shifting from bored confidence to something that resembled fear. “Is there something solid you can testify to? And just as important, are you willing to do so? I can promise that if this character is as dangerous as you’re leading me to believe, we can probably provide protection through the trial.”

We all heard his promise of protection, but I doubt anyone present including the officer truly believed it. He did continue without success to try to convince one or more of us to tell him who did it, but eventually he exasperatedly said, “If you’re not going to tell me, then maybe I should have you all taken into custody. Maybe that’ll loosen your tongues.”

As we stared at each other unsure what to do the officer called in for a transport. True to his word he took us all in and allowed us to spend what little remained of the night in the custody of the local constabulary. Being my first brush with the law beyond a speeding ticket, I was scared to death and I’m sure everyone knew it.

After a while, we were taken one by one out of the holding cell and interviewed. Luckily for my nerves, I went second. I was led down several corridors, up some stairs and into what I presumed was the squad room. I was taken to a desk and told to sit down, after which I was handcuffed to my chair to wait until a detective had a chance to interview me.

I have no idea how long I waited, but I’m fairly certain it was well over half an hour before a gentleman in a crumpled, cheap suit sat down at the desk and started questioning me.

“Name?” he began without even looking at me.

“Harry Dawson,” I answered quietly.

“What was that? Speak up please.”

Louder this time I repeated myself, “Harry Dawson.”

“Now Mr. Dawson, what can you tell me about this evening?”

“I really don’t want…” I started.

He quickly interrupted me, saying, “Just answer the questions.”

“But...”

Exasperatedly he said, “I could take you into custody if that would make things easier.”

“No,” I quickly replied. “On our last break we were out back and just before we came back in I saw somebody running away from around the dumpster.”

Probing for more information he asked, “Could you identify who it was?”

Again I hesitated before finally saying, “Joey something or other. He’s a regular here, but…” I paused before adding, “Sorry, that’s all I know.”

Turning his attention to the rest of those present, the officer asked, “Did anyone else see this Joey?” Everyone responded by vigorously shaking their heads no.

He then asked, “Any idea who he may be talking about?” Once again the only reply was a chorus of heads shaking.

Eventually the police left us and we were free to go home to catch a few z’s. Once in my car I started it and put it in gear beginning my journey home.

During my trip home the extra tiredness from being kept up an extra couple of hours by the police seemed to take it’s toll as I found it difficult staying awake. Again my mind started wandering in directions it hadn’t gone in a while and I found myself thinking about Holly.

After we met, we became something of an item. She went with me to jobs when I’d get work and I did what I could to support her desire to become an artist. Sometimes her presence was the only thing that got me through the night, because I rarely got to play the kind of music I really wanted to play.

Funny thing is, for a while my gender issues kind of hibernated and for the first time in my life I felt like just a normal guy. I guess sometimes love is like that.

Eventually, when we reached a point where I was playing enough to afford it we got an apartment together. Her parents were okay with it, but to say mine didn’t like the idea would be a drastic understatement. Things went along well for a while, until the day Holly told me she was pregnant…

…”Harry?”

I rushed to her and took her in my arms saying, “It’s gonna be all right. You’ll see”…

Fortunately I did finally manage to get home in one piece, where the very first thing on my agenda was to strip off the old smoky smelling clothes I’d worn to the gig and climb into the shower, luxuriating in the warmth while the water washed away the remainder of the club’s aroma.

Even after several months on hormones I was still pleasantly shocked by just how sensitive my nipples felt as the water rushed over my body. As I continued to enjoy the sensation my mind again wandered off on it’s own…

…”How could you?” she yelled at me from the doorway.

I barely ducked out of the way, but by the time I returned my attention to the doorway I could hear her storming down the hall toward our daughter’s room…

When I got out of the shower I toweled dry and blew dried my hair before slipping into a nightgown and crawling into bed. Within seconds I was asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting bolt upright in bed drenched in perspiration shouting, “No!” at the top of my lungs. The only thing I could remember from the nightmare that prompted that reaction was a hauntingly familiar voice saying ‘You’ll be next’ in a menacing tone.

Giving up on the idea of further sleep, I got up and went into the living room where I curled up on the couch and dozed while some mindless movie played on the TV. I’ve no idea how long I slept there, but when I decided to rejoin the living the day was in full swing.

Despite the hormone therapy I still hadn’t been able to work up the courage to start living as a female full time, so after I put on a rather snug sports bra to prevent excessive jiggling I got dressed in the standard issue musician’s uniform…a musical t-shirt and jeans with a pair of Nike’s. I wandered out of the house on my way to run some errands when I found that my car had been vandalized.

The windows had been broken out, there were numerous large dents in the doors, fenders and hood, and spray painted on the trunk lid was ‘U talk U die’ underlined for emphasis. I considered calling the police, but from what I knew of this Joey character he didn’t make idle threats and I had no interest whatsoever in tempting fate.

I returned inside and found myself pacing back and forth as I looked out the window at my now all but useless car. As the time passed I contemplated the various options available to me in the situation, but for the most part found that I had none. Sure, I could call the police and file a report. I could even give them Joey’s first name and description, but somehow that didn’t really strike me as the best way to ensure my continued living given what I do know about the guy.

Once I began to calm down I called Bob to see about a ride to the club that night. As the phone rang I became increasingly fidgety worrying about Joey and just exactly what he had in mind for me.

Finally Bob answered, “Hey, Harry.”

“Bob, I need a favor,” I blurted out almost before he’d finished saying my name.

“What is it?”

I paused just a moment before saying, “I need a ride to the gig tonight. My car’s out of commission.”

“Dude!” he seemed surprised. “That sucks. I’ll pick ya up about seven, if that works for ya.”

“That’d be great, Bob,” I replied. “I’ll see ya then.”

As I disconnected the line I thought about the fact that this guy knows where I live not to mention what I drive. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he knew about me? Did he know about Hannah?

The shudder that ran through me at that thought hung on for quite some time before I was able to collect myself again. I then called my cousin whom I normally take my car to and asked him to come pick it up and let me know if I had a prayer of affording the repairs. Since I wasn’t going anywhere until Bob came to get me I decided I’d take care of a little maintenance on my bass. It took nearly an hour, but I had cleaned all the ‘bar goo’ off, done a fingerboard treatment, and changed strings leaving it ready to go in it’s case.

I then turned my attention to my first love, the upright. I sat down behind it and got that familiar feeling of being ‘home’. I started playing some bluesy jazz walking lines, as my mind filled in with drums, piano, and a tenor sax completing the ensemble. After a few choruses I climbed the fingerboard to run through some solo ideas before settling back into the groove for another couple of choruses before bringing the piece to a close.

I played through a few more songs, mostly standards like Miles Davis’ “All Blues”, again imagining the entire ensemble as I went. The next thing I knew, there was a knock at the door bringing me back to the present. I set down my upright and went to answer it.

Bob was standing there impatiently waiting when I opened the door. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Sorry, I was practicing. Guess I didn’t hear ya.”

“I kinda gathered that from your playin’.”

I grabbed my electric bass and followed him out to his truck, sliding my instrument behind the seat before climbing into the passenger seat. The drive to the club was uneventful as we sat quietly listening to the radio on the way.

Once there, I couldn’t help but to scan the place for any sign of Joey. As I set up for the night, while we waited for 9 o’clock, and as we climbed up onto the stage I was quite distracted from worry that he might think I’d called the police, so much so that I nearly missed the count-in to begin the first song. My distraction carried through the entire first set as evidenced by the fact that I made several mistakes, which I simply don’t make as a general rule. I’m pretty certain nobody other than the drummer and myself noticed though as the sparse crowd seemed quite energetic in their appreciation…of course that might’ve had something to do with the substantial amounts of alcohol being consumed by the small group of what looked to be college kids obviously holding some sort of celebration at the club.

On our first break I stayed inside rather than go out for a breath of fresh air as I normally would so I could again scan the crowd for signs of Joey, but by the time the guys had returned from doing whatever chemicals they were sharing outside happened to be I’d managed to convince myself he wasn’t there. As a result, I was a bit more satisfied with my performance in the second set and when the time came I even decided to join my band mates outside.

We were barely out the door when one of them pulled out a joint and lit it, passing it around to the others. They did offer me a hit which I declined saying, “Thanks guys, but no thanks. S’not really my thing.” From that point they ignored me as usual while I leaned against Bob’s truck and stared at the stars overhead.

The third set ran smoothly as did the fourth, then we tore down the gear while we waited for payment. The truck was pretty crowded by the time we got all the PA and my bass amp, but we managed to fit it all in just in time for Billy to hand out the night’s remuneration. Bob and I said our goodnights and climbed into his truck for the ride home.

“Thanks for the lift,” I said shortly after we left the club.

“No problem,” Bob replied. “What’re you gonna do about your car? I saw it getting’ towed away when I got there and it looked pretty bad.”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth,” I said tentatively.

He was quiet for a minute or two before saying, “Well let me know if you’re gonna need a ride Wednesday for the gig.”

“I will,” I said. “Thanks.”

The remainder of the trip was made in silence, other than the turned down radio playing top 40 Country in the background. When we arrived at my place I climbed out and pulled my bass from behind the seat, then went around to the back and unloaded my bass amp. I closed the tailgate and waved as Bob pulled away, leaving me to haul my stuff upstairs to my apartment.

Just like the night before, I stripped down and took a nice long relaxing shower before pulling on panties and a nightie, blow drying my hair, and climbing into bed. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow…