Roy And The Road To Renee - Chapter 3.
By Pentatonic

Monday, October 6, 2014:

Immediately after I came home from school on Monday afternoon I changed into my girl clothes, to connect with my experiences. That had been Becky’s suggestion. I then re-read my journal and started on the essay. I noted the stereotypes which were relevant to my experience, and decided to limit my essay to just those points. According to the instructions, Mrs. Benson wanted the essay to be at least one thousand words. My first draft was twice that. I set it aside to polish it over the next few days. I changed out of my girl clothes for supper, to avoid any snide comments from my sister although something in me was saddened when I did.

At that point I realized that having let my feminine side out, she wasn’t going to go away without a struggle. I decided to keep the name Renee for my feminine side.

Friday, October 10, 2014:

Friday was the due date for turning in the essays. As suggested, I included my journal with the essay, since I made a lot of references to it. It made a thicker than usual essay, and Mrs. Benson smiled with approval.

Friday was also the day before the Homecoming dance, but the buzz of excitement at my lunch table covered the fact that my essay was a whole lot longer than everyone else’s.

Saturday, October 11, 2014:

The Homecoming dance was held in the school cafeteria, rather than in the gym. I thought that the gym would have been more appropriate, given the sporting event theme, but the basketball coach had refused to let the school use the gym, because, as he said, “I don’t want a bunch of stupid girls ruining the floor with their idiotic high heels.” I, for one, couldn’t care, but I wished that I could have included his comments in my journal and essay.

The lunch tables had paper table cloths in the school colors, and streamers had been hung from the ceiling. Some of the tables and chairs had been moved out to make room for a dance floor. It actually looked pretty nice.

Becky and her friends had really dressed to look very pretty, and us guys were all decked out in coats and ties or suits. We moved two tables together so all of us could be together. Our presence was noted. The captain of the football team came up to our table. “I didn’t expect all of you to come. I guess that you aren’t as nerdly as I thought,” he commented. From him that had to be high praise. We traded dances with each other, and genuinely had a good time.

When I took Becky home, she said that my getting all of us together for the dance had been a great idea, for which she rewarded me with long and lingering kisses before she went inside. I didn’t go in with her, since I knew from experience that I had traces of her lipstick on my face, and didn’t want her parents to see it.

I was not so fortunate at my house. My sister had been at the dance and she and my parents were in the living room, waiting up for me. The comments about the traces of lipstick were accompanied with giggles and outright laughter from my sister. “It looks like you had a better time than I did,” she commented.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014:

On the next Tuesday, Mrs. Benson commented that she had read the essays over the weekend, and while she usually picked three essays to be read in class on Friday, there was one essay which really stood out, so she was going to dedicate a whole class session to reading and discussing it on Thursday, and have three other essays read on Friday. Her comments caused Becky to look at me and smile. She was sure that my essay was the ‘special’ one.

Thursday, October 16, 2014:

She was right. On Thursday, Mrs. Benson announced. “Roy’s essay is based on his personal experiences, his ‘research,’ as it well may be described, he recorded in a journal. He refers to his journal in his essay, to support his conclusions, so I am asking him to read the journal first, so you can see what he did. As you will hear, he cross-dressed as a girl, to experience what a girl would be expected to do and feel in certain situations. I know that you all want to snicker about Roy wearing a skirt, but let me tell you that some serious research has been carried out in like circumstances, so you have to understand that Roy’s motives were purely scientific. Remember that Becky was an integral part of the research and nothing more should be inferred as to his cross-dressing.”

Boy, I thought, if only she knew how much I liked dressing as a girl.

After class, Mrs. Benson called me aside. “Your essay was way beyond what I expected, and I am dutifully impressed. I have a friend who is a university professor, and I’d like to share your journal and essay with him. Your observations and conclusions come from a 16 year old boy and not an adult. For that reason, it has great value, since very little has been written from your viewpoint. May I send him a copy?”

“Sure, I guess so,” I responded. I then told her about the basketball coach’s comments, and how I wish I could have included that in my journal and essay.

“Write them us as appendices to your journal and essay, and I will include them with what I send to the Professor,” she said.

My method of research caused some commentary among some of the students, but Becky helped explain why it was done. The fact that she participated in the research helped quell any adverse reaction.

That evening, I related the events of the day to my parents and sister. My sister couldn’t help not making some snide comments, for which she earned a rebuke from Dad, “You should respect what Roy did. I’m willing to bet that you wouldn’t even think of putting so much effort in class work, and I have your grade reports to prove it.” This silenced my sister.

Friday, October 17, 2014:

The next day Becky read her essay in class. Her essay was connected with mine, although a lot shorter. She wrote about her feelings and conclusions from the events in my journal, some which differed from mine. Mrs. Benson was actually excited about our joint effort and said “You heard Roy’s essay yesterday. Becky’s essay relates to the same events, but with a different viewpoint and some different conclusions.”

Becky was excited about our essays. On our way home from school she said, “Mrs. Benson told me that they are almost one work with two authors. She said that my participation has earned both of us an ‘A.’ Now that all of your friends know that you have cross-dressed makes selecting your costume for the Halloween party a lot easier.”

“Let me guess,” I responded, “it has to me dressing in a skirt or dress, doesn’t it?”

“Now that you mention it, it does,” she responded with a big grin. “I was thinking of an opera theme for us. I could go as Brunnhilda from ‘Die Walkyrie’ and you could be the Queen of the Night from ‘Die Zauberflote,’ How does that sound?”

“Okay, I guess,” I said, “but putting together the costumes may be difficult and expensive. Don’t expect me to sing any of her arias,” I added.

“You don’t mind wearing a dress, do you?” she asked.

“Naw, it’s okay,” I told her. I didn’t say that I would really love to wear a dress. My feminine side was reasserting herself.

“Let’s see what we can find at the thrift store, for starters. Since we will be in the women’s section and you will be trying on dresses, you might want to wear a skirt and top. Maybe you can bring your clothes from your house, get dressed at my house and then we can hit the thrift store tomorrow.”

Saturday, October 18, 2014:

On Saturday morning I used the hair remover again, since I was going to be changing into a skirt at Becky’s house. For the drive over I decided to wear panties and pantyhose under my jeans for two reasons. First, I would be wearing a skirt when shopping, and Second, just because I wanted to. My feminine side was active. I wore regular socks over my pantyhose, packed up my girl clothes along with what makeup I had and drove over to Becky’s house.

Becky’s Mom answered the door when I rang, and when inside I could hear strains of Wagner coming from the CD player.`”I’m excited about your Halloween costumes. I love the opera, especially Wagner. Becky told me to send you upstairs to get ready for some shopping.” She paused for a second, and then asked, “You don’t mind it that my daughter has you wearing skirts and dresses on occasion, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “It’s almost like you are her full sized Barbie Doll.”

“It’s okay,” I responded. Then my feminine side asserted herself and I added, “I wish I had Barbie’s figure.” Becky’s Mom had a peculiar smile on her face when I said that, and she pointed to the stairs.

Becky was laying clothes out on her bed when I entered her room. “I think that this plaid skirt and a button up sweater are appropriate for today.” Rather than going into the bathroom to change, I took off my jeans in front of her. What started as a concerned look on her face dissolved into a broad smile when she saw that I was wearing panties and pantyhose under my jeans.

“You told me that girls don’t mind getting undressed in front of each other,” I said, to justify what I had just done.

“Do you consider yourself to be a girl?” she asked with a surprised look on her face.

“When I’m wearing panties and a skirt, the answer is yes.”

“Oh,” was her only response.

“Let me explain,” I said, “when I had to get in touch with my feminine side, it wasn’t a mere touch. My feminine side grabbed on tight and won’t totally let go any more. I call her Renee and she is always in the background.”

“Well, then, let’s get Renee ready,” she said with a bright smile.

When fully dressed we went out to my car. “Aren’t you afraid of someone recognizing your car and seeing you get out in a skirt?” she asked, referencing my prior concern.

“Not anymore,” I said, “Renee won’t let me be concerned,” referring to my feminine side.

“Will Renee allow you to kiss me?” she asked with some concern in her voice.

“Renee has nothing to do with kissing you,” I said, “that’s exclusively Roy’s province.”

“Good!” she said, “now prove it!” I did, and it seemed to please Becky. But, I wondered, does my Renee side want me kissing boys? That was more than I wanted to think about at that time, so I pushed that thought into the back of my brain.

We were lucky at the thrift store. After a lot of searching, we found a long black formal dress which actually fit me. The skirt part was slightly gathered at the waist, and the whole skirt would spread out if I twirled. It also had a slit up he left side of the skirt which came up to mid thigh. The bodice was not tight, and the neck line was square cut. It was sleeveless but had wide shoulder straps. A further search produced a long sleeved, high neck chiffon blouse with a small ruff around the neck. “You can wear this under the dress,” she told me, “maybe we can make a high collar in back and attach it to the blouse.” The dress and blouse were purchased. “I hope you know that everything you wear underneath will also have to be black, so we’ll get it at the mall. I think that you will also need ample breasts, so you want to think about breast forms.”

For Becky, we found a long formal gold skirt and a silver sleeveless top. The housewear section of the thrift store had some metal bowls which we could make into an armored chest-piece. We also found a blond wig which would be long enough to make into braids. The helmet with horns was a problem, however.

We found a solution in a man’s hat with a rounded top. We could cut off the brim, and spray paint it silver. We did some research on the internet, and found that some Brunnhilda costumes had wings, and not horns, on the helmet. We decided to use wings, which we could cut out of cardboard and painted.

After our thrift store adventure, Becky and I returned to her house to drop off our purchases and have a bite to eat. We then left for the mall, and more shopping.

On the way to the mall, Becky went over what we needed to buy. “We need black panties, black bra, black slip, black pantyhose, unless you want to wear a garter belt and stockings.” The last comment brought a wicked smile to her face. “We need some costume jewelry, and I think that we need some sequins to decorate you costume, since you are the Queen of the Night. So where do we start? The department store or Victoria’s Secret? Oh, you need some black shoes with heels. We’ll play the rest by ear when we get to the mall.”

Upon entering the mall, the first place we saw was an earring kiosk. Becky immediately saw a set of crescent moon earrings. “Ohhh!” she exclaimed, “You definitely need those.”

“But they’re for pierced ears,” I complained.

“That’s an easy problem to solve,” Becky said in rejoinder. “Piercing is free if you buy earrings.”

“We’ll buy the crescent moon earrings and a set of small gold studs for her to wear until the holes heal,” Becky told the sales clerk. The clerk called over an older woman, who brought over what had to be a medieval torture device, used to pierce ears and who knows what else.

After some pain to my ear lobes, and some minor pain to my cash supply, Becky and I proceeded down the main aisle.

As we approached a ‘fashion jewelry’ store, Renee said, “The Queen of the Night needs jewelry!” and we went into the store. In keeping with the Queen of the Night motif, Becky found a pewter necklace with a man in the moon face. “You absolutely need this,” she said. She saw a plastic tiara and some cheap, but gaudy, rings, all of which were purchased.

“You need some makeup. What you have just won’t do it,” Becky said. “Black nail polish, blood red lipstick, heavy eye shadow, false lashes, and some dark blush, definitely. We can get this at a cosmetic counter in the department store.”

As luck would have it, Victoria’s Secret was on the way to the department store at the far end of the mall. “Let’s see what they have,” Becky said as she pulled me in the store. She then reached into her purse and pulled out a list of measurements which she had previously made.

“What size panties are you wearing?” she asked. “Panties are always a good place to start.”

I didn’t understand the logic of her last statement but let it pass. It wasn’t hard to find the right sized panties; it was the style which concerned me.

“I think that Renee will want the sexiest pair possible,” Becky said.

“Remember, I have to tuck something back, so we have to consider that.” I said.

“Well, okay,” she responded, and found an appropriate pair.

“We can buy cheap pantyhose at the local drug store, so we don’t have to get them here,” she said, “of course, unless you want to wear a garter belt and stockings. Then this is the place for them.” Becky picked up several black garter belts in different styles and sizes, and we went to the changing rooms. She entered the changing booth with me. Facing me, she reached around and unfastened my skirt which fell to the floor. She then fastened a garter belt on me. After trying several, she made my choice for me. “Ohh, that is so sexy,” she said. “It makes me want to kiss you,” which she did. She then looked at my face. “You need to fix your lipstick,” she said.

“And so do you,” I responded, and we did. Becky then selected a pair of black nylons for me.

After the garter belt and stockings, Becky said, “Now you need a slip, because your gown is not lined. I think a full slip would be best, but we only want a peek of lace to show in the slit in your gown. Maybe a slip with a lace edged slit on the left side, same as the dress. That way when you twirl, you might give a glimpse of garter and hose.”

After buying the slip, Becky and I went to the bra counter. “How can I help you ladies?” the clerk asked.

“A black bra with lace. C cup,” Becky said, and she gave the clerk the appropriate measurement.

“For you?” the clerk asked Becky while looking at her chest.

“No,” Becky replied, “for her.”

The clerk shifted her attention to my chest. I had the start of ‘man boobs’ but nowhere in the C cup range.

Seeing the clerk’s expression, Becky added, “She’ll need some inserts too.” In response, the clerk gave me an odd look and shrugged her shoulders, which I ignored. After looking for a bra, sexy and lacy enough to satisfy Becky, and full enough for the breast forms, the clerk, Becky and I repaired to a cubicle for me to be fitted. At last, we had what was needed. I was slightly embarrassed with my encounter with the clerk and I was relieved when we left the store.

At last we made it to the department store, for cosmetics. Becky steered me to one of the counters. “This is my favorite brand,” she explained. The clerk smiled when she saw us, and I remember hearing that the cosmetics clerks were on commission. Since we needed to buy a lot of cosmetics, she had reason to smile.

“Renee here is going to a Halloween party as the Queen of the Night, from the Magic Flute.” The clerk looked puzzled. “From the opera,” Becky added, but it still didn’t seem to register with the clerk. A catty remark from my Renee side came to my mind. She probably only likes acid rock, I thought.

Becky came to the rescue. “Think evil witch. Black nails, blood red lipstick, dark eye shadow, false lashes, and anything else you can think of.” This brought a smile of recognition to the clerk’s face.

“How are you set for your regular cosmetics?” the clerk asked me. “We have a special on complete kits in different colors, and I know we have what is exactly right for you/ Do you want to see it?”

Becky pulled me aside and whispered, “It may be a good idea if Renee plans on hanging around, otherwise not.”

“Yes, I’d like to see it,” I said.

“Very interesting,” Becky commented, as if I had answered a question, which, in fact, I had. This pleased my Renee side.

After trying some of the cosmetics, I said that I would buy the set. We then concentrated on the Queen of the Night makeup. When done, I looked in the mirror and saw what looked like an evil prostitute. “Excellent,” Becky announced. “We’ll buy them.”

We left the Queen of the Night makeup on as we went in search of shoes. When I saw people staring at me I wondered if they thought the makeup too dramatic or that I really was a prostitute. The Renee inside of me didn’t care, but she did like the makeup.

The clerk at the shoe store tried to steer me into buying strappy shoes with dangerously high heels, I was finally able to prevail on the heel height,

When we got to the car, Becky suggested that I put on my heels, to practice driving in them.

At Becky’s house, her Mother loved the Queen of the Night makeup. “Can I see what else you bought?” she asked. She liked what we had bought, and had a lot of suggestions for my costume. She even approved of the garter belt and stockings. “They’ll really get you into the part,” she said.

We started work on the costumes immediately. Sequins were found and attached to the chiffon blouse. The helmet was started, and cardboard wings were made. Of course both Becky and I had to model what we had bought. When I stripped down to put on the dress, Becky’s Mom noticed that I was wearing panties and pantyhose. “Good idea, it puts you in the right spirit,” she said.

When I sat down to put on my heels, Becky’s mom noticed the slit in the skirt. “You’ll have to be careful with that, or you’re going to give everyone a peep show,” she said with a chuckle. “If you want, I can sew that closed.”

“No,” I said, “I like it the way it is.” That was Renee talking.

“I figured that you would,” she responded. I wondered if Renee was sending out signals.

Becky’s Dad liked both operas, and as his contribution had made a spear for Brunnhilda and a magic wand for the Queen of the Night, “I thought that I should contribute something,” he said.

Sunday, October 19, 2014:

Becky’s mom had suggested some alterations to make the dress fit better, and had suggested that I come by on Sunday afternoon to try the dress on to make sure that everything was right. That morning I had run out to buy some extra black hose to wear to the fitting. I decided to wear the black panties, slip and bra along with the breast forms under a skirt and sweater which I borrowed from my mother. “Just remember, this does not mean that you can raid my closet whenever you want,” she warned.

“But mom, this is only for the halloween party,” I responded.

“Yeah, right,” she replied sarcastically.

Becky and her mother had laid the entire costume on Becky’s bed. Neither made any signs of leaving the room while I changed. When I took off the skirt and sweater, both commented on the black undergarments. “I’m glad to see that you made the effort to make sure everything is correct,” Becky’s mother said. She checked the slit in the slip. “Good, you can see the top of her stocking and the garter strap.” Renee liked this, even if Roy was a little embarrassed.

I put on the chiffon blouse to which the sequins had been added and Becky and her mom helped slip the gown over my head, and zip it up. When I sat down to put on my shoes I found out that no matter how I sat, the slit in the skirt fell open, displaying the top of my hose. This caused Becky’s mom to laugh. “You’re going to have to work on that, unless you like giving everyone a bit of a show. “Of course, I could sew it closed if you wish.”

“No, don’t,” Becky said, “I think that she likes giving a glimpse of stocking.” Renee agreed with her.

“Why don’t you keep it on for the rest of the afternoon, and practice sitting and walking in the heels,” Becky’s mom suggested. “While you’re doing that, Becky and I can work on her costume.”

It was then that Becky’s dad came up from the basement with the metal bowls, having fastened them together with leather lacing, which was Brunnhilda’s armored chestpiece. Becky and her mother made adjustments with the various parts of the costume, while her dad and I just watched and admired. When they were done, a very credible Brunnhilda emerged. Becky’s dad had worked on the helmet, and it was fitted to Becky’s blond wig.

Becky’s mom then said, “Let me get the black wig for the Queen, and let’s have pictures.” There were a lot of pictures, which Becky’s mom emailed to my mother. Due to the wonders of the internet, they arrived at my house before I did, much to the delight of my sister.

“Oooh” she commented, “are you really sure you’re a boy? You look so adorable,” she said, and dissolved into gales of laughter.

Monday, October 20, 2014:

While I no longer tottered when wearing three inch heels, I decided I needed more practice, so when I came home after school I asked my sister if I could borrow a pair of knee high stockingsfrom her. “Okay, if you promise to wash them when you’re done, and don’t run them,” she said.

So I spent the afternoon in heels, while wearing my jeans and a sweatshirt. I caught my sister looking at me. “That just doesn’t look right. Those shoes don’t go witht the baggy jeans and sweatshirt,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to look right,” I retorted, “I’m just practicing walking in these shoes.”

“How about dancing?” she asked.

“I donno,”

“Maybe you better practice dancing. I’ll help you but not if you look like that. Come up to my room, and let’s see what can be done to make you look better.”

Once in her room she commanded me to strip, which I did, down to my underpants. “Get rid of those too,” she ordered, and handed me a pair of her panties. “These should work,” she said, “If you’re embarrassed, change in the bathroom and come back in here.”

I changed into the panties, and when I went back into her room, she handed me a bra. “Do you have your breastforms or are they at Becky’s?” she asked.

“At Becky’s,” I replied.

“No problem, we’ll find something to stuff them with,” she said. “Put on the bra.”

After I had put on the bra, hooking it behind, she commented, “you’re getting pretty good at that.” She handed me what I recognized as her skating skirt, maroon with contrasting panels, and very short. “It’s not going to bite you, put it on,” she commanded.

This was followed by a top with a very low scoop neckline and adorned with spangles, which I dutifully put on. “Come here, and let me do something with your hair,” she added.

After she had put my hair in a french twist, she grabbed a lipstick, and applied a coating to my lips. I turned around and looked in the mirror, Renee liked it.

“Okay, let’s go into the basement and dance,” she finally said. She grabbed her CD player and some CDs and headed to the basement.

For about an hour we practiced various dances, after which she said, “You’ve got those pretty well down, but now you have to learn some slow dances.”

We had only started on the slow dances when my mother called down the stairs, “Are you down there, Roy? Joe’s here. I’ll send him down,” after which I heard him coming down the stairs. When he saw my sister and me, one could see the surprise on his face.

“Whatcha guys doing?” he asked.

“I’m learning how to dance,” I said.

“As a girl?”

“Yeah, for the halloween party.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to learn,” ignoring part of the question.

“Nice outfit,” Joe said.

“Give Joe a twirl,” my sister commanded with a wicked smile.

I did as I was told, which caused the short skirt to flare out, exposing my panties. Joe gave a whistle.

“As long as you are here, you can help by dancing the boy part,” my sister commented. Joe did not need any further encouragement, and took me into his arms.

“Just remember, I’m a boy,” I warned him.

“Doesn’t look that way right now,” he responded.

The more we danced, the closer he held me. I could feel that he was getting aroused. “Back off, buster,” I whispered, “I don’t go for boys.”

“You could fool me,” he whispered back.

After about a half hour, I asked Joe, “So what brought you over in the first place?”

“I need you to look at something about my car,” he answered.

“Let me change, and I’ll be with you,” I said.

“Naw, it won’t take long, and I like the way you look.”

I put on a short jacket and we went outside. “What seems to be the problem that can’t wait until tomorrow?” I asked.

I suddenly felt Joe’s hand under my skirt and rubbing my behind. “Stop that immediately!” I commanded.

“Why? Don’t you like that?”

“No, not at all.” Well, maybe Roy didn’t like it, but Renee did. “I’m getting cold, let’s go back inside,” I said.

Friday, October 31, 2014:

On the night of the party, Becky and I got dressed at her house. Becky’s Mom had taken pictures of my Queen of the night makeup which the cosmetics clerk had done, and did a credible job of reproducing it.

The party was held in the rec room of Cathy’s house. There were black and orange streamers everywhere, and black chiffon covered the few lights which were left on.

We were nearly the last to arrive, which was good, since we could make a grand entrance. Most of the people in our crowd were not opera lovers, so we had to explain our costumes. I think that nearly all were impressed with the effort we had put into them.

A little later Joe sidled up to my left side. “A dress,” he said. “You must like wearing dresses and skirts. What gives?”

“Remember the game of miniature golf?” I said. “Remember the wager, remember that I lost to Becky?”

“Oh, yeah, That.”

“Yes, that,” I responded, and moved a step away, revealing the mid thigh slit.

“Oh, wow!” Joe exclaimed when he saw a glimpse of the lace at the bottom of my slip and my black nylons. “What else do you have under there?” he asked with a crooked smile on his lips.

“You asked the same question the first time you saw me in a skirt. The answer is the same. I’m not telling or showing,” I said.

“Be that way,” he said, but I could feel his hand on my behind before he went to graze at the buffet table.

I really had to be careful how I moved, and especially how I sat and how I crossed my legs. It was difficult not to show a lot of leg and a lot of the lace on my slip. Later on, Becky and I sat down on a love seat, with Becky to my left. I could feel her hand move into the slit of my dress and rub my nylon covered leg. “Feels good?” she whispered. I nodded my head.

The girls had picked out some party games, most of which caused me to reveal more that I wanted, including the fact that I was wearing nylons and a garter belt. Some commentary and whistles followed. Joe, on the other hand, just announced, “I knew it!” I gave him a dirty look.

A while later, I pulled Becky aside. “Did you have any part in choosing the games?” I accused her.

“Of course I did. You should feel honored, since a lot of the games were picked just for you and your nice under things,” she answered. “I thought that your Renee side would like them.”

I had to admit to myself that my Renee side was a bit of a tart, and to further admit to myself that I enjoyed it.

On the way back to Becky’s house, she suggested that we stop for a few minutes where the trees shaded the streetlights. She leaned toward me and gave me a lingering kiss. “I really had a great time, and thank you for being such a good sport. I’ll bet that none of your pals would have shown up in a dress.”

She paused for a moment, and then said, “Answer me truthfully, you don’t mind wearing girls’ clothes, do you?”

“I don’t mind,” I answered.

“In fact, you like the way they feel on your body, don’t you?”

“My Renee side does,” I answered evasively.

“But both your Renee side and your Roy side actually like to cross-dress don’t they?” she demanded to know.

“Yes,” I said softly.

“And sometimes you wish you were a girl, don’t you?” she asked.

I nodded my head and asked. “Why do you suspect that I do?”

“Your essay,” she responded. “Some parts of it were not a boy imagining being a girl, they were all girl. I don’t think that anyone else noticed, but I did because we shared the same experiences.”

With that we exchanged another long and lingering kiss. She looked into my eyes and commented, “I think you were right when you said that Renee wasn’t going to go away without a fight.”

In the end it was a moot point, since Renee never went away.