Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 5

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place, (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-201208.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4, Chapter 12, part 5 of 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

Various locations in Iowa and Wisconsin, June 03-16, 2007

* * * *

Friday June 08, 2007

I helped my friends get ready for school, then dressed in what I figured was appropriate for a school visit; I put on this form-fitting, cropped polo shirt and these skin-tight low rise jean cutoffs, more like Daisy Dukes but with all that excess fabric cut away. They revealed my cute, sexy tummy, firm creamy thighs and slender waist. ~~Oh-oh, I need a bikini wax.~~

Ha! Gotcha again. As much as I'd like to walk around half naked for Eric, or naked for that matter -- hey, if you've got it flaunt it -- I wore a fashionable and attractive tailored woman’s suit, summer weight. It projected an air of respectability and class, yet showed off my curves in a way something far skimpier might not -- the power of imagination and all that. Think of that old movie cliché’ with the mousy secretary who when she takes of her glasses and lets down her hair is suddenly a major hottie. I did this one better by skipping the glasses and hair bun. What's scary is I LIKE showing off; I LIKE looking hot; shy is NOT in Joanie's vocabulary. I gave Bob a kiss on the cheek, Babs a gentle hug and drove off.

I arrived a half hour after Eric's school started; by then, the press had left. I went to the school office and was escorted around the building by the principal. I visited a band class -- they were pretty good for middle schoolers; the orchestra on the other hand ... Oh the PAIN! -- and dropped in on a couple history classes as well. I set up in the cafeteria shortly before the lunch periods began.

The principal made a PA announcement. "Some of you may already know we have a visitor here today. She has agreed to meet with anyone who wishes. She is willing and eager to sign autographs and take photos together. I remind you to be on your best behavior and show her what fine young people you are. Remember this is a closed campus, so no phoning your friends or the press. You must stick to your set class schedules but are welcome, during your lunch and any study or free periods, to come down to the cafeteria and meet with her. Joanie brought her guitar and amp and will sing a few songs as well. Did I forget to mention Ms Brown's name? Now behave!”

I heard kids shrieking -- that or a freight train locking it's brakes. It's been claimed that the Saturn V moon rocket and a nuclear explosion are the two loudest man made sounds. They never heard teenage girls.

I had a great time. Most of the kids and staff liked me; if anyone didn’t, they hid it well. There had to be a few seriously anti-mutant types given the size of the school, but then I had saved the daughter of their popular state governor, so I guess that tempered any ill feelings. I was surprised by how many girls wanted their pictures taken with me; guys I could understand, they're walking/talking bags of testosterone, but girls? It hit me eventually. It was not just one cause but a combination of causes: hero worship -- I was a girl after all, despite my past -- fandom, and a kind of preemptive strike; if they had their picture taken first, they felt more in control, when any boys they were interested in had their turn with me. Or maybe it was the *wingman* and the *wounded duck* theory dating. Any of the boys whose overtures I turned down would have crushed egos and raging libidos, a target-rich environment for any enterprising girl, i.e. my self-appointed pseudo wing-women.

The lunch periods were busy for me, talking with the kids, signing autographs and singing. Much of what they said was just polite chatter or even inane, but several asked intelligent questions. The best was: "It must be great to be young, good looking and famous, but if you could choose to be who you are now, but without the fame, versus as your life is now, would you do so?"

”I must admit being famous is often a nuisance, but the price for not having become famous would have been the lives of several wonderful people. I have gained far more from being *outed* as a mutant than it has cost me in lost privacy and such. And I have met others because of the fame; several are special to me, Eric. that was a good question and not just because you are a friend."

~~Friend. Right. The kind of friend that has you so hot and bothered you'd *do him* here and now if you could; admit it. Eighteen, wait for it, girl. If he has you creaming your panties now, imagine what he will be like as an adult.~~

I'd made a mistake mentioning Eric, as I could see the gears turning in their heads. I could imagine them reasoning, 'girl is friends with boy and family, goes to dance with boy, visits from way across the country several times in a few months. Now girl visits boy in his school, despite being so rich and beautiful she could have any man she wants. ...'

I needed to squash any speculation about Eric and me and fast. "To be honest, girls, Eric is kinda hunky, don't you think?” Several girls snickered, more blushed. Apparently, I wasn't the only girl who noticed his charms. "But then your principal is quite the stud muffin, if you like old men like your grandfathers." I swear, the class laughed so hard, I think a couple wet themselves. Yeah, I know Eric's principal is a gal, and it's Mel's that is a man. It simply reinforces my image of being a blonde and not the brightest banana in the chandelier. Misdirection; it works every time.

I managed to escort Mel and Eric home without any serious complications, though my first act upon returning to Terrace Hill was to take a very long, very cold shower. It helped some. I still nearly jumped Eric during dinner, I was so ... pick your favorite word or phrase, I was all of them.

" *Sister*. do you want me to distract everyone while you, um, get some, er, relief for your *urges*?" Babs whispered to me after dinner. I turned beet-red and rushed off to my guest room. She knew how to push my buttons, just as my biological sister did. I loved her for it and planned on getting revenge at a date of my choosing. Muwah-ha-ha-ha!

While Babs called an impromptu family *meeting,* I had a meeting of my own with a couple of my favorite adult *toys* ... ooh, yeah baby!

* * * *

I showered, washed my hair and changed all my clothes; I even put on some perfume, something I didn't always do -- anything to hide the evidence of my carnal activities. I found Mel, and we talked about a sleepover. She called her friends, one after the other, and proposed a sleepover for Friday after Eric's graduation. Unfortunately, many had holiday plans in place and several were leaving town the day after classes ended. We could have some time together Friday afternoon -- her last day was a half day -- but with Eric graduating middle school that didn't leave much free time. We agreed to keep in touch, and maybe later in summer an opportunity would arise. I was disappointed, but this meant more time with Eric, so I wasn't too put out.

Friday June 09, 2007

I got up extra early in preparation for the mini-vacation I was taking Mel and Eric on, starting Saturday. I did my run, showered and dressed. I did a quick check on my emails. I was right on Miki; British customs would have been a nightmare for her. Even familiars had to go through months of quarantine, like dogs, cats, cattle or any other imported animal. The Sabers sent their regards. They were having fun with the *old bag* gone, -- they'd been boning up on their 60/70's slang in self-defense -- and that I would be pleased with their progress as a band when I returned.

Operations informed me that the farmhouse and barn conversion were ahead of schedule, and both would be ready for occupancy, before I returned from England, um Wales.

Suzy emailed from a WiFi hotspot in Steven's Point, the nearest sizable city to my uncle's lake cabin. She'd had a great time reuniting with her family. Later, they planned to go to my cousin's lake cottage near Tomahawk to spend time with her cousins who were anxious to hear all about her famous mutant friend. My cousin, a.k.a. her uncle -- this is confusing even to me -- the service station *mogul* -- snicker -- sent a brief email thanking me for being so kind to his niece, and that I was much more pleasing to the eye than I used to be. Oh, there was something about if I wanted to play touch football, like we used to do at our Thanksgiving family get-togethers, he was all for it .. so long as we didn't tell his wife. Here I thought his dad, my uncle, was the kidder in the family.

I had a private e-mail from Pinky. I won't divulge the contents, but it made me cry; she loved me so much. That her birth mother could turn her back on ... I had to stop thinking about it before I got mad.

* * * *

Both Eric and Mel had short days, this last day of school. Mel's graduation from grade school would be informal, but family were welcome to attend. Eric’s more formal graduation ceremony would start at seven o’clock, so I had ample time to pack for the mini-vacation and ready myself for the ceremony. Babs helped me pack for the kids; we'd let them veto our choices and make their own later that day ... right. No, really; she, I, we, trusted them to make intelligent choices; we simply made them in their place.

"Sis, I know mother knows best and all that, but Mel's a pretty girl and these clothes are so ... dull shall I say?"

Babs gave me a dirty look then broke out laughing. "Duh! I want to see how she reacts. If I know my daughter she'll voice her opinion politely, but firmly, and pack a few items she wants along. I don't mind her dressing her age, so long as it's respectable."

"So not a slutty wannabe prostitute like me?"

"I wouldn't call you a wannabe."

"But I wanna sooo bad!"

It was some minutes before either of us could speak without breaking up with the giggles.

"Joanie, when you talk like that, I wonder if you are bad influence on my children, but then I talk that way too. God, we're both sluts!"

"And loving it!" A Maxwell Smartism is so satisfying.

* * * *

Mel's graduation was low-key. A brief ceremony in the school gym then a picnic out on the grounds. The school had a buffet lunch laid out that a local caterer had donated; their daughter was in Mel's grade. There was plenty to eat for students and guests. Babs was recognized at once. She was active in the PTA, among other organizations; then there were the little facts of her being a US Senator's daughter and the current governor's wife. We became the center of attention, once lunch was over.

"Ms Johnson, you're looking radiant. When are you due?" seemed the flavor-of-the-day among the parents and well wishers.

"Mid-August, but with twins I'm told an early delivery is common. I'm doing well and looking forward to it as is the whole family."

"It will be fun to have a baby brother and sister; I already have an older brother and sister."

That raised a few eyebrows. "But there's only you and your brother Eric?"

Mel giggled, "There's my big sister Joanie; well, she's not really my sister, but I wish she was." Then she gave me a hug.

I tried not to cry, but a few tears leaked out.

Most of the kids were friendly, often to the point of hero worship, but then Mel was well liked and I had ... you know the rest.

I was particularly pleased to see Megan and her dad again. She showed off for their friends by taking more than a few steps from her wheelchair to one of the cafeteria tables they'd set up for the graduation picnic. She had crunches just in case but didn't use them. The squeals of joy and surprise from her friends was electric. They so mobbed her we couldn't speak but I saw her mouth 'Thank You Joanie' and I almost lost it.

I did note a couple parents who seemed upset I was there, but if it was due to anti-mutant bias or fears for their child's safety, given my track record of attracting trouble, I don't know.

* * * *

Eric's graduation was more elaborate -- a ceremony in the school auditorium. It reminded me of when I graduated junior high. They had a salutatorian and valedictorian and all that -- thankfully none of those silly robes and mortar-board hats we wore at my high school graduation. Yuck! Though with a gown like that, opened up the front , shortened to mid thigh and pulled-in the waist I could ... Never mind, plus wearing that commando would be begging to get laid ... I'll file that away for future reference.

Eric introduced several of his classmates to us, that's Mel, Babs and Governor Bob. We had several teachers stop by and comment on how Eric was one of their favorite students and complimenting him on how he'd improved of late. I was surprised, I thought Eric had always been good in school. His parents looked confused too.

"I said that badly; what I meant was Eric has always been a good student, it's just he's become even more so of late.

"Eric, if you keep this up, I expect you will graduate on top of your class in high school and even college.. I don't know what has gotten into you, but keep it up; your hard work made this last semester a joy to teach."

We all knew what had gotten into Eric, and I couldn't be happier. Okay, I could be, but that had to wait for Eric to turn eighteen.

* * * *

Saturday June 09, 2007

We woke early Saturday morning -- well, Mel did. She got me up at 5 o’clock with an ice cube down my back. I have to admit it was effective.

"Aaaaiieee! Who did that?”

I heard someone try to stifle a giggle, most unsuccessfully too.

"You said to get you up at five if you weren’t up already. Eric is making sandwiches, and I have our bags by the door ready to load.”

"That’s great, Mel. I’ll shower quickly, dress and meet you in the kitchen.”

Fifteen minutes later I was in the private kitchen in Terrace Hill, fairly awake and oh, so happy. ~~ Eric is looking better every time. Behave yourself this time, Joanie, and the next few years will fly by. Then you can ...~~ I was having a delicious daydream complete with a generous helping of ... ~~Ooooh, Eric, is that all for me?~~ ... never you mind. I was having a great time. Unfortunately my imagination was having an even better one and delighted in, ah ... Thus my alibi for the following Freudian slip,

"Joanie, do you want anything more?”

"Another helping of you, lover.”

"Huh? Joanie, are you awake?”

"Whoa! Sorry, Eric, I was daydreaming.”

"About you, brother,” Mel said and giggled.

"I don’t mind. If you’re too tired, we can wait until you’re rested.”

"I’m fine, Eric; just seeing you triggered all sorts of delightful dreams. Good morning, Babs! I hope we didn’t wake you?”

"No, the twins did; all that weight pressing on my bladder. Thanks for taking my children on a vacation. I hated to think of them cooped up here all summer while Mommy waddled around.”

"Mom, it’s fine. We have lots of friends, and I want to be with you when my baby brother and sister enter the world. It will be kewl.”

"Wait until you’re a mother, my child; giving birth hurts like hell. Sorry, kids. It’s worth it; look how you two turned out.”

"I’m happy and surprised you let me travel with Eric and no escort. I mean, after Easter I ...”

"You do have Mel with you; that should cool your ardor. Plus, you both know how incendiary your feelings are, so you’re better prepared to control them. I think the two room idea will work. You and Mel in one, Eric in the other. You said some of your MSG pals would help if I recall." Bab's looked me square in the eyes. "I trust you, Joanie, and it’s a good test. If you can survive this trip, the demon is tamed. You all know the consequences of failure, so I’m confident.”

"I promise not to violate that trust. I don’t want to lose your friendship or Eric’s.”

"Have a nice time. Bring back lots of photos and stories”

"I will, Mom, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure they behave.”

"I’ll be good. I don’t want to lose Joanie, Mom. You call us if anything happens. We each have a cell, so no excuses.”

"Joanie, thanks for getting phones for my kids.”

"It made good sense, and we can use them like walkie-talkies in crowds if we get separated. Take care, lovely lady.”

"I look like a fat cow, but I’ll accept your compliment.”

She gave us all hugs and kisses. I was amazed Eric didn’t object, but then she was letting him time spend time with me. We loaded and drove off.

Oh, yeah, nearly forgot. You all, dear d/j//whatever readers, are wondering 'Why no escort, no guards, no State Patrol officer playing babysitter to us?' Because one no one knew our itinerary, not even me, except for part of day one, and that was a well kept secret. This was a follow-your-nose vacation. Second, they were with ME, with my semi-phenomenal cosmic ... my mutant gifts plus police training, riding in an armored, uber fast vehicle. I knew a bunch of supers level mutants -- members of MSG -- intimately. I mean that in the *biblical* sense, in Wisconsin, our destination. Anyone trying to harm Mel or Eric would get more than a can of whop-ass dumped on them, they'd get the whole cannery. And that's not including what *I* would do to the bastar ... fool(s). Armageddon would be the least of their worries if someone dared to harm my friends. Not that I'm the least bit vindictive ... much.

* * * *

"Where are we going?”

"I plan to take you to some of my favorite places in Wisconsin and Iowa. If either of you want to do something, let me know.”

"I’d like to go to a theme park.”

"Mel, there’s Great America just south of the Wisconsin state line and all sort of stuff in the Wisconsin Dells, particularly water parks. You'd enjoy both. ”

"I vote for the Dells and a water park.”

"You would, too, brother. You want to see Joanie in a wet, clinging swimsuit.”

"Oh yeah, but it'd be fun to see her in a swimsuit too.”

~~O...M...G! He loves me ... Don't cry, Joanie, don't cry ...~~

"Okay, we’ll work that in, but today is special. I need you both to be on your best behavior, and be careful what you say. We're going to see a professional baseball game with some people I know. The problem is they don’t know me as Joanie; they knew me as John, and it’s not safe to let them know that.”

"Joanie, that makes no sense.”

"Eric, let me try again. A group of employees from the bank I worked at, and some of their friends, are going to see the Brewers play. So is my sister and her husband. I want you to meet my family, and this is a good opportunity.

"Sis got us tickets. She told them some out of town friends were visiting, and she needed three more tickets. It’s safe to talk about Joanie, how we met and are all friends, but don’t tell them we are boyfriend and girlfriend. And never ever tell them who I used to be. We are acquaintances only, not formerly brother and sister, now sister and sister. She is simply a nice lady who helped me at the bank after my transformation; end of story . Got it?”

"So telling your sister that we are lovers is a no-no?”

"Eric! That isn’t true ... yet. If you can joke about it, you understand. It’s fine to tell my sister you are attracted to me, but be honest and discreet. If the wrong person overhears, our relationship is down the toilet ... permanently.

"This is a long drive, nearly seven hours. If you need a bathroom break or want to stop for a quick look at something let me know. We don’t need to be at the meeting place until two-thirty.”

* * * *

We made excellent time with our early start. My huge pickup was surprisingly quiet -- the armor and electric motors, probably -- so it was easy to speak. They caught me up on the news of Iowa, not that I was totally out of the loop. Eric and I had maintained our Friday evening calls, so I was familiar with much that had happened. I tried to be a good girl and listen -- a strength my mother had. Though I am not her, I’m a much better listener than John was.

"Joanie, what do I call your sister?” Eric asked me.

"By her first name, when we are clearly alone; she’ll like that. In public, you'll have to ask, like you were meeting a stranger, and then she’ll tell you. She's a bright lady and in some ways smarter than I am, though in some ways she’s not as smart as me. That didn't come out too clear, did it?"

"Like you said, Joanie."

"Me too," Mel added.

"Thanks a lot, gang!" I snarled or tried to. It's hard to sound angry when you are laughing. "I should have said my sister had things she was better at than the old me, and the old me had things he was better at. Even with my mutant makeover, I consider her my equal mentally, if not physically, okay? I hope you’ll get along. I want you to know my family. If we are going to be together, you need to make an informed decision, Eric.

"Does anyone want a soda? There are some in the cooler in the rear console.” Ah, the advantages of being blonde. You can change the subject without warning, and nobody suspects a thing.

We pulled off the main highway, once, onto a side road to stretch our legs and to grab a soda ... and to kiss. Okay, I’m trying to be a good girl, but after several hours in the same vehicle it got to me being that close to Eric, and I HAD to; so did he. I think it might be pheromones, or maybe we just have the hots for each other. I was a guy for nearly fifty years, and I know he was in distress -- a great deal of distress from the size of the bulge in his trousers. It was no more than a kiss but ... WOW!

"That will have to hold us for a while, *lover*”

"No problem,” he said with a very silly grin on his face. Mel gave us a disapproving pout then giggled. She’s tickled that her brother and I are a couple and does everything she can to see we stay that way AND celibate -- curse her black heart.

We drove in relative quiet, my friends, -- my future husband and sister-in-law I hoped -- soaking up the scenery. We got near to the Mississippi River and I noticed Mel acting odd. She was getting more tense and nervous by the second.

"What’s wrong, Mel?”

"We’re not going near that tourism information place in Prairie Du Chein, are we?” There was fear in her voice.

"We’re crossing way downstream from there, so don’t worry. Your brother and I will make sure nothing bad happens. There is a tourism building on the Wisconsin side, but it’s off the main highway, so there are no vehicles driving by at 40 to 50 miles an hour. I don’t think you are weak for being afraid, hon. I’d be scared, too, after what happened last year.”

I heard Mel take a sharp, deep breath. "Joanie, take us into the tourism place. I need to get over this, and a potty break would be nice.”

"You’re very brave.”

"And I drank too much soda; I need to go to the bathroom, bad!”

* * * *

I was proud of Mel; though the building was different, it was similar enough it had to trigger memories of that awful day. We did our business, then Mel and I did each other’s makeup.

"Joanie, your lipstick is smudged. I wonder how that happened?” We broke into giggles.

"You little minx!”

She touched up mine, and I put some on her. It’s amazing what a little lip-gloss and a touch of eyeliner will do to dress up a woman. And don’t give me that 'she’s too young for makeup’ nonsense. Many of her classmates I’d seen just days before wore some makeup and had pierced ears, some with multiple piercings, and a couple bolder gals showed off bellybutton rings whenever their blouses rode up. Mel was positively conservative by comparison, given she appeared to me one of the more ... developed girls in her class. Did I just say that? I meant, okay, Mel is *well-built* for a girl her age. It’s not like she’s built like me, who is, but she’s going to be a hottie -- a tall hottie -- I can tell.

Mel noted the resemblance. She looked at us in the mirror and smiled. ”We look like sisters, but then someday we will be.” That had me smiling too.

We caught up with Eric, and I let them browse through the brochures in case something caught their fancy. They did want a tour of a cheese factory, and the army DUWK rides at the Dells interested Eric.

"Make sure to grab a state road map so you can mark the route we follow,” I suggested.

The attendant noticed us and asked if we needed any help. I was blocked from her view by an info kiosk in the center of the room, so she must have been talking to Eric or Mel. "Morning, Miss. Is there anything I can help you find? Any particular activity you are most interested in?"

"My best friend is taking us to visit her favorite places in the state. She used to live here, so she’s pretty familiar with Wisconsin. I need a state map though."

"There are some new attractions. You look like a young lady who follows the music scene; I know I did at your age. Ever hear of Joanie?’

"She’s my absolute favorite!” Mel practically screamed.

"She's mine too,” Eric added. His tone suggested it wasn’t just my singing that interested him.

"Well, you would, brother. She’s very pretty.”

"I wouldn’t disagree with that too strenuously,” I called out, still obscured.

"They are putting up a monument and a safety fence at a sister tourism facility in Prairie Du Chein. It’s in memory of her bravery in saving that young lady’s life, Melissa Johnson. The ground breaking ceremony is this Wednesday, at noon, if you want to see it.”

"It is? I might want to see it; I was there when it happened.”

That statement surprised me, but then lots of things Mel did surprised me. If it helped to calm any remaining fears she had from that day, I was game.

"Actually, Ms. Johnson prefers to be called Mel, don’t you Mel,” I called out again from my concealment. This was fun.

"You know *that*, Joanie. I told you last Labor Day in Prairie Du Chein,” Mel answered.

The slightly quavering tone in the attendant’s voice told all. "And your name, Miss, is?”

"I’m Melissa Johnson from Iowa and this is my brother Eric. And this is my best friend ever, Joanie,” she said proudly, as I walked into view.

"I’m surprised about the monument to me and Melissa. No one told me about it, but then I can be hard to get a hold of. I’ll see if we can make it to the ceremony, okay Ma’am? I can be reached through the Wisconsin Mutant and Paranormals facility in Madison. Ma’am, say something? Ma’am?” ~~Ghods, this is so much fun !~~

* * * *

After making sure the woman was okay, we walked to my truck and drove on toward Milwaukee.

"Do you really want to go there, I mean the tourism facility in Prairie Du Chein?”

"Mom and Dad told me to face my fears, and they won’t control me. I need to do this for myself.”

"Okay, we’ll go sometime during this trip, Mel -- even to the ceremony, if you like. You’re braver than I am, girl.”

* * * *

We made good time the rest of the way. I stopped by my dad’s home first, parking out front. He was out, but I had my old keys. I showed them 'round the house, and I wrote a note for dad. I helped Mel and Eric do a little light cleaning, as a favor to Dad. Our two old cats were sleeping on my sister’s old bed. I changed their litter-boxes and gave them fresh water. I sat down on the floor of the hallway and called to them.

"You probably don’t remember me, but I was John; I’m Joanie now. Want a scritch-scratch?”

They looked at me for a while, then the girl walked up and sniffed me. She looked confused then she sniffed again. She got very interested in me. After a minute or more of this, she hopped on my lap and curled up purring like she had found a lost friend. Her brother came over, sniffed me a little then flopped down on my legs. He purred like a chainsaw.

"You know who I am? I missed you so.” I rubbed and scratched their ears. They purred, licked me and generally acted goofy.

"Joanie, where are you?’

"I’m upstairs, Mel; come softly so as not to scare the cats.” I quickly wiped away my tears, before they saw them.

I spent several minutes introducing them to her and next to Eric, who wondered where we were. We were about to go when my Dad drove up in his Sable. He got out of the car and opened the trunk; he’d been grocery shopping.

"We’ll help, Dad.” I whispered that last word to him. He was surprised to see me but was smiling. We quickly had him unloaded and the cold and frozen stuff put away. In minutes, all the cans were downstairs, the boxes in the cabinets and only the meat needed re-wrapping for the freezer.

"Dad, this is Melissa, or Mel, and her brother Eric. I’m taking them on vacation this week, because their mom is very pregnant with twins, and she can’t travel.”

"You are the young lady my daughter saved last Labor Day. I remember you from the photos, though you have grown a lot since then. And you young man, what are your intentions towards my daughter? Can you support her and a family? ... Are you two using protection?”

"Daddy!” Dad laughed in response to my scream. Eric’s face looked like blanched cauliflower.

"Hon, the look on your face was priceless. I’m getting old, and you are my last unmarried daughter. When will I get an opportunity to say that to a young man again? Aaaah! I knew I forgot something, I should have been cleaning a shotgun as I asked that,” Dad said then laughed.

"Mr. Brown, I know I’m too young now, but I respect Joanie and I love her. I will wait if she will. My grandfather, the Senator, told me I’d be a fool to ever hurt her. I promise that when I’m old enough, I’ll be the best possible man you could ever want for a son-in-law.”

"Shake on it?”

"I’ll give you my solemn oath.”

"A hand shake will do. You seem an honorable young man.”

I looked at the time. "We have to go, Dad. We’re meeting Sis to go a Brewer’s game with her and her personal love-slave.”

"Can’t you call Tony by his name?”

"Sure, but where is the fun in that? ... Dad, how come you have the cats?”

"Tony and your sister are having their condo remodeled, so I’m cat sitting. I didn’t realize how much I missed the fur balls. Since your sister got married, and you moved out after your ... The house is too quiet.”

"Dad, you could move in with me. I’m nearly finished building a big house inside the shell of a barn. I have a guest house, though that may get rented out. I have 53 acres; I’ll build you a house if you prefer. It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

"I’ll think about it, but all my friends live here and my clubs.”

"Think about it; I worry about you.”

We said our goodbyes and drove off. Fortunately no one really noticed us leaving. Most fortunately, Dad did not notice my tears. He'd've had a hard time noticing mine though his own.

* * * *

We stopped at a supermarket and bought a couple large coolers, lots of ice, soda and bottled water. I got several pounds of various potato and pasta salads from the deli and iced those down too. Mel made a great suggestion, and we got plastic utensils, paper plates, napkins and trash bags just in case. We bought some cheap but serviceable folding chairs for tailgating.

We, well, *I*, got looks from fellow shoppers, but I think my presence was such a shock it held them back. Though there was this one school girl -- roughly Mel’s age -- shopping with her mom. I assumed it was her mom; they looked so alike. The girl kept looking at me and at this teen/music magazine. She did this a lot in the short time we were in the checkout. Apparently I was in it along with some list of up-and-coming teen stars, Mel told me later. I should have figured she had a copy in the shrine, um, her Joanie collection. The girl must have been intimidated by me, so she walked up to Mel, instead.

"Miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but is your friend, Joanie, the singer?”

"Sure is! She’s my very best friend. Do you want to meet her?”

"I can?”

"Joanie, want to say 'Hi' to a fan?”

"Why not? She asked politely.”

After my ears stopped ringing from the girl's excited shrieks, I signed her magazine -- I paid for it to save the clerk some grief. I was in a really good mood that morning, so I felt I should.

"Where do you go to school, Tameka?” She'd introduced herself after some coaching by me. I guess I intimidated her.

"I graduated from Jefferson Grade School and start at Longfellow Middle School this fall, Joanie.”

"Tameka, I went to Roosevelt, and later Longfellow, but it was a junior high then in the early 1970’s.

"You went to the school I’m going to?”

"And East High School.”

"My friends are gonna DIE when I tell them. Wait a minute, please!.”

She got out her cell phone. "Mom gave this to me for my safety; it has a built-in camera.

"Mom, can you take my picture with Joanie?”

We left a few minutes later before the crowd grew too big. Tameka was grinning and thanking her mom ecstatically, as we walked out the door.

* * * *

We got to the big-box retailer's parking lot where our directions for the tailgate and ballgame said to meet. I’m not saying which retailer, but their logo looks like a bull’s-eye, in red and white. It was an easy target Okay, who groaned? It wasn't that bad, was it?As I was about to say before I was ... interrupted, I recognized a few of the bank employees standing by their vehicles, as I had worked with them, or more correctly, John had. My sister drove up moments after us, so I shut off the truck and we got out.

I rushed over and gave her a big hug, lifting her into the air and spinning around. My former coworkers stared in utter disbelief. I set her down, and she handed me our game tickets.

"Did I spill something on myself or forget to cut off a price tag from my clothes?” I asked.

"If you haven’t guessed, this is Joanie, and her two younger friends are Eric and Melissa Johnson from Iowa. Joanie is a customer of ours. I met her last year after her transformation; she need help with her finances, what with her radically altered identity. We talked a bit, and we become friends. I invited her, and she asked if her two young friends from Iowa could come as well. Any questions?” Is my sister smart or what? And she's a natural blonde too!

"I heard rumors we had a big name celebrity as a depositor, but I never made the connection,” said a lovely twenty-something operations manager. I’d kind of fancied her when I was man, but she was happily married. Her ancestors had to be from Norway or Sweden, from her appearance. She has this oh-so creamy complexion with subtle freckles in the most delightful places. Two such places protruded tantalizingly from under her blouse. Did I say John fancied her? Joanie was spellbound. Thankfully or regrettably, take your pick, her handsome, well-muscled, Hispanic husband was with her, which spoiled THAT fantasy. Her smile still got to me despite the damper of her hubby. And those eyes of hers! ~~Damn but she's hot!~~ This hottie young mother was one of the event organizers. ~~You can organize me any time, Blondie.~~ I looked at Eric and felt unworthy. I pulled myself together and spoke.

"Oh, if you are wondering why the Johnsons are with me, I’m taking them on vacation for a week to give their parents a break. We met last fall and hit it off.” I giggled and so did Mel; Eric just looked at me and smiled. I felt even more guilty, yet oddly happy ... you know. My emotions and a yo-yo have too much in common.

"Joanie is my best friend ever. I trust her with my life," Mel giggled.

"M-mel, cut that out." I could barely speak; the apprentice had bested her mistress. I was impressed. She also snapped me out of my funk.

"My Mom is due to have twins in August. She and Joanie are like sisters now, so here we are,” Mel explained.

"I feel so stupid. I was told by our company president to keep an eye on this important new customer’s accounts. I never connected the name Joan Brown to Joanie. That makes you two the Governor of Iowa’s kids.” They nodded politely.

This gal ran our electronic banking department and was a major babe with a sexy wild streak. I, that is John, fancied her big time, but the age difference was too much -- or so I’d thought. Additionally, when I was working there, she was happily married. I should have said she was married, but unhappily, because it lasted four months, and she was single now and looking fine. She'd lost a few pounds, got seriously in shape, and generally was more upbeat and confident. That 13 year old boy in my mind wanted in her pants, like yesterday. ~~Just my luck, she’s single again, and I’m a woman. I wonder if she’s into girls. Oooh , a three-way with Blondie!~~ Did I mention she was the other organizer of this outing? In my defense, my libido was still a bit revved from kissing Eric earlier and was getting even for us not ... you know. I’m not a slave to it, but sometimes it tries to be my mistress ... and I LOVE IT.

I made her look ordinary by comparison; what a disappointment. I mean, she is a great looking young woman; she reminds me of Maureen O’Hara in her prime. That I made *her* look plain was a bitter blow to the tiny remnant of my male ego. He was having so much fun, until I thought that. My female ego enjoyed this immensely. It's one thing for people to tell you you're a knock out; it's another thing all together to realize you are better looking than someone YOU believe to be a hottie. I mean I fantasized more than a few times about this sexy woman. There was a down side to this *revelation*. Any woman near Eric triggered predatory emotions deep in my psyche. Little Miss Goody-two-shoes Joanie has a jealous streak, no doubt about it.

Where was I ? Right. A couple of the guys and one of the girls, the sexy e-banking specialist, marveled at my truck. Meanwhile I worked to push my jealous streak back in its adamantium steel cage. Hey, I'm super-powered evil mutant; I'm entitled to that level of bitchiness.

The rest of the gang arrived, and we took off for Miller Park. The line into the tailgate area was long, as the team was winning for the first time in ages. There was hope this year they might make the playoffs. The last time, the ONLY time we'd been in the World Series, Matlock was a new show. It was so long ago, it would be a dozen years before Miley Cyrus was born. We paid, parked where directed, and set up our stuff. I used my truck’s now-opened tailgate as a table.

We soon had the charcoal and propane grills going, and the food cooking. The group was a little unsure as to how to treat me, but I put them at ease.

"I’m just another Midwestern kid. I lived most of my life -- until this last year -- about five miles away; a little less as the crow flies. Other than Mel and Eric being underage, treat us like anybody else here, okay? Oh, and I am a touchy-feely kind of girl, so you don’t have to treat me like fine china,” I added then stood up, grabbed Tony and kissed him.” ~~I see why Sis likes Tony; not bad. Um, tight buns, guy~~ My sister looked ready to kill. So I kissed her, too, then dragged the two of them together. "Okay, now that you each have the general idea, try it together and keep practicing.” They practiced and practiced diligently. If we had been in private, I think they would have done *it* there and then.

After that, the group opened up to me and told me about themselves and such. Someone had burned several discs, but the boom box wouldn't play them. It must have been an older model.

"My truck’s sound system could play them.”

"Or she could play for you.”

"What?” someone asked.

"Joanie has her guitar and an amplifier along with her. The truck has lots of power outlets. I've heard her in person, and she's really good.

"Want to do it, Joanie?” Eric asked.

"I will if you want me to, Eric.” ~~Nothing in the rules says I can’t flirt with him, within reason. And if he keeps talking about me that way I'll be beyond reasoning with. Fourteen. He's ONLY fourteen ... crap, crap, crap!~~

I had this inspiration, insight, call it what you will, ~~Maybe that's why I'm so successful as a singer. I have all this pent up lus ... desire and music is a safe outlet -- that and running. A round-trip to Key West ought to do it,~~

Eric's suggestion was a good one. I had numerous songs recorded on a hard drive built into the amplifier. And why not? It made for a great practice tool. The guitar was wireless as was the pair of microphones that came with the amplifier. The electronics for what amounted to a mini-portable recording studio, and the simple receiver for the guitar and microphone signals, easily fit in the amplifier. I could play and amplify just the guitar and my voice or play along with a previously recorded piece. I even had wireless effects pedals.

I plugged into my truck and fired up the amplifier, at a moderate volume -- have to be neighborly, after all. Soon, I was happily in the groove, playing some of my favorites much to the delight of Mel and Eric. My sister looked at me and was crying; her husband comforted her. Fortunately, the others didn’t notice it, they were too busy enjoying my impromptu concert. I stopped so we could eat, to applause from a considerable crowd of fellow tailgaters. A few asked for autographs, but for the most part they behaved themselves. My sister whispered in my ear, "I started crying when I realized Mom never will hear you. You are great, Sis.” I broke down sobbing in her arms.

"What's the matter, Joanie, are you okay?" the youngest woman present asked.

"I ... I ... She told me that her late mother would have loved my singing, and it made me think of mine. Ghod, I miss her!"

My sister did her best to comfort me, given the limitations concealing our real relationship imposed on us. Several of the ladies escorted me to the nearest women's room, where they helped me clean up the mess I'd made of myself. They were all so kind it, made me all the more guilty I couldn't tell them who I'd been. This was one of the worst aspects of my new life, hiding who I was from so many I once knew.

They walked me back to our vehicles where a relieved brother and sister from Iowa were waiting. "I wanted to come with you, but they said no, I should keep an eye on your stuff, and that they'd make sure you were alright. I'm so sorry. I should have done something!" Mel was quite distressed. Eric's frustration at not being able to publicly console me was evident.

"It's okay, Mel. The gals were right. It's a big crowd. They know the layout here; you don't. It was safer for you this way. I know you wanted to, dear. That's all that matters and thanks." I gave her a warm hug, and she cheered-up. "Give your brother a hug for me." I whispered. The smile on his face after was almost as good as hug ... almost.

* * * *

A security utility cart came up minutes later. "Are you Ms. Joan Brown, better known as Joanie the singer?”

"Yes.”

"Come with us please?”

"I’m responsible for Mel and Eric here. I can’t just leave them. Have I done something wrong, officer?”

The officers looked confused. They called into their radios for instructions. "You’ve done nothing wrong. We’re instructed to bring you to the Team offices. Your two young friends are welcome.”

"What about our seats and our tailgating friends?”

"This shouldn’t take long, and we’ll escort you to your seats when necessary. Bring your guitar and amp please.”

I gave my sister a set of spare keys to my truck so she could lock it, if I didn’t get back in time.

* * * *

We were driven to the ball park and led to a VIP elevator, one of those you need a key for. Security guarded my instrument. We got to the executive level and were escorted inside.

"Ms. Brown this is an unexpected pleasure. Given the controversy with Summerfest, I am surprised you are in town. If you're wondering why you are up here, one of the security cameras in the parking lot caught your impromptu concert, and we sent the officers to check it out....”

I recognized the man, the former majority owner, and current Commissioner of Baseball.

"I’m from the area and was visiting an old friend. I was invited to the tailgate, because I have accounts at the bank, and I am friends with one of the tellers.”

"Would you like to perform for us tonight?’

"No. I’m here to watch game with two of my best friends in the world. I do love performing, but this is their vacation *you* are interrupting, and it bothers me. I’m sorry to seem cross, but I feel like you’ve imposed on them. This is their vacation as much as it is mine. If it was just me, it would be different.”

"Mister, what do you want Joanie to do?” Mel asked, the little politician-in-training that she is.

"There is the Star Spangled Banner, and we often have a celebrity first pitch.”

"Joanie wouldn’t miss any of the game, would she, and would we have help finding our seats?”

"You could sit in the owner’s box.”

"It's a generous offer, but I think Joanie would want to sit with her friends from the bank. Cutting out on them would be rude,” Mel added.

~~ You are the daughter of a politician, Mel. That was a slick move and nicely done too.~~ If it had been up to me I would have castrated the man for spoiling my day -- either that or fucked him to death. The close proximity of Eric had me so wound up. having the object of my desires at my fingertips, yet unable to act on those desires, had me very high strung. I think I know how a drug addict feels. Eric was my drug, and I so needed a *fix.* I forced myself to remain calm.

"Eric, what do you think? This is your and your sister's vacation after all.”

"I think you should sing. You’ll sit with us after, right, Joanie?”

"I’ll do it so long as someone will let the tailgaters know we’ll meet them in our seats.”

"We can do that. Anything else?”

"We’re missing out on a tailgate.”

"We can get you a variety of our best concessions food.”

"That will do. My friends here are teenagers, and you know how they eat."

"We'll make sure they are well taken care of, Joanie"

"I’d like to practice a bit, both the song and the pitching? I know singing in a stadium is very different than in a theater, for instance. Plus I throw like a girl!”

Mel giggled; Eric tried not to laugh but failed miserably.

"That can be arranged,” the Commissioner added, then made a few phone calls.

* * * *

Eric and Mel were offered a choice to tag along with me or go on a VIP tour of the place, then be escorted to their seats shortly before game time. They chose the tour; hey, it was with the Commissioner.

One of the pitching coaches took me to the bullpen and showed me how to throw. They didn’t expect anything hard and fast. I doubt they expected me to get it to the plate on one hop. A catcher got in position. I noticed they had a radar setup and readout for training purposes. There were several video cameras as well. But then baseball is big business these days. Anything that gave the team an edge was a potential money maker.

"It's a lot further to the plate in the pros than most realize," the catcher said as he handed me the ball. "Think you're up to it?"

"I’ll give it a try.”

I threw a simple, overhand fastball, but not all out. I wanted accuracy and to shock them. Okay, I wanted to show off, satisfied? After a few tries I was getting it to the catcher with ease.

"How fast was that?”

They smiled at me thinking probably 'Let’s humor the pretty gal'; that and 'Look at the rack on her.'

"Try again. We have the radar on."

"How was that?” I saw the readout; 70mph, a nice speed ... for a change-up. A fastball it was not.

"You're not bad, Ms Brown. Try a few more.”

I was getting used to it, so I started throwing harder. That and their humoring me had rubbed me a little raw.

"That was excellent! 85 miles an hour.” He sounded impressed.

"Can I do a couple more?”

I threw one hard. They looked at the readout, then me, then at the readout again.

"Was that any good?”

"We’re not sure the radar was working right. Try one again, as hard as you feel comfortable with.”

I threw as hard as I could. -- THWACK -- The catcher's mitt emitted an audible *pop*. He shook his hand afterwards; I think it stung a bit. Part of me wanted to shout "Hard enough for you?" I could see their shocked expressions, as they looked at the readout.

"Well, how did I do?”

"Have you ever considered pro ball, Joanie?” the pitching coach asked.

"Huh?”

"That last pitch was 116 miles an hour and in the strike zone.” He was dead serious.

"But I’m a mutant and a girl; there must be rules about it.” Their change in attitude had me off balance.

"I’m not telling anyone; you’re not telling anyone, are you?” the coach asked the catcher who shook his head and grinned. I gave them hugs for being sweet and only staring at my breasts for a little while. So they weren't perfect gentlemen, but who cares? Plus the catcher had a really tight ass. Probably from all that ... crouching. Hands up everyone who thought I'd say something like "ball handling"?

* * * *

As the game was about to start, the PA came on. "Welcome to Miller Park. Tonight, we have a former local girl who in less than one year has make a big name for herself. Please join with Joanie in singing our national anthem.”

I walked out onto the field to solid applause; when they flashed my name and image on the fiber optic screens, the applause became much louder. There were a few boos, but that’s to be expected, with my being a mutant and their being ass-holes -- I mean misinformed individuals. They had equipped me with a pair of radio ear buds and a wireless mic, so the echo from the sound system wouldn’t confuse me.

"In the key of G everybody. Please sing with me. Don't be shy!"

I sang, ignoring the reflected sound and that of the forty-thousand plus fans in the stands singing in forty-thousand different keys. I concentrated on the music in my ear buds. I stopped to the sounds of ”Play ball!” and deafening cheers. It was a warm day, and I was dressed with a lot of skin showing, but I think they were applauding my performance. I do have a nice figure, but at that distance you can’t see much *detail*. We skipped doing the first pitch, but they kept it in mind for another time. I was escorted to my friends in the bleachers, to the astonishment of people we passed. A few extra police hung around to discourage people crowding us. I noticed they were all female.

"Where did you get the caps and team jackets?” Eric and Mel each had a Brewers cap and were holding team warm-up jackets -- real ones, not the cheap printed Tyvek shells.

"The equipment manager got us these,” Mel said grinning. I noticed all the tailgaters had caps.

"They gave us caps and coupons for free beverages, in apology for disturbing us,” my sister explained.

"All I had time for was a plate of waffle fries with nacho cheese sauce and a Coke. I feel deprived,” I giggled ... "Where is my guitar?”

I was getting worried. Oh, I knew they’d return it but when? ~~ Sit back and watch the game. Worry about that later. It’s not like you can’t replace it, except for all those unreleased music tracks on the ... ~~ Now I was worried.

* * * *

The game went well. We won, though our best pitcher went out with yet another injury. A hang nail or was it rising damp... something serious. An officer returned my guitar and amp to me and apologized for not doing so earlier, She got a hug and a kiss; she was cute. Most of the bank gang were going to a sports tavern after the game, so we said our goodbyes and headed off for our motel -- well to find one. I mean, how hard is it to find a motel at nine-thirty at night on a Saturday? We ended up at my dad's. He was glad for the company and was leaving early the next morning for my uncle's cabin up north, so it was no big deal, We promised to lock up for him, and that was that. I slept in my old bed dreaming of when I was a little girl and this yucky boy Eric kept teasing me, until I suddenly got older and I started teasing him. I have weird dreams. You want to hear about the one with Sigmund Freud holding this huge banana? Or am I remembering an old comedy skit?

* * * *

To be contiued soon.

Chapter 12 should be complete in three more posts.

Please comment. It's the only way I'll learn.

-- GRIN --

John in Wauwatosa