Tony had a wild night at Lads’ Night and by the end he didn’t want it to finish. So much so that Tony, when invited, slept at Jess’s place as Toni. Now it’s a new day, and the only clothes Tony has is a fancy date night dress and killer heels. How the hell is Tony going to get home? Maybe, just for now, it has to be Toni going home...

That’s up to Tony, though. But does this newfound fun really have to end? Can Toni continue, at least in the privacy of Tony’s home; at least once he gets there? Whatever happens Tony seems to have found two new friends in Jess and Sally, the problem is they don’t know Tony. Sure, Jess and Sally know he technically exists, but Toni is their friend. And what happens when they want to see her again? These are questions for another day, though, right?

---------------------

Waking up I roll over and look at Jess sleeping next to me. She opens her eyes and says, “Back to sleep, girl. It’s the weekend, it’s early, and you have a whole new life ahead of you, if you want it. You need your rest.” So I close my eyes and settle back into the warmth of the blankets.

I don’t know how much later it is when I finally wake up for real but the light is coming from a totally different position outside the windows and Jess isn’t lying next to me.

I drag myself out of bed pulling down the nightdress that’s ridden up on me and sleepily walk over to Jess sitting at an outcrop of counter, placing myself down opposite her.

She holds a finger to her lips, picks up her phone and dials a number, then places it back in the centre of the counter. After a few rings someone picks up. “She’s awake!” Jess says.

“How are you feeling, babe?” the woman asks.

It’s Sally.

“Tired,” I say.

“Well Big-G would tire any girl out,” Sally says with a laugh.

At that comment I feel blood rush to my face, pins and needles all over and it’s like my body has caved in.

“She’s blushing,” Jess says.

“With the screaming I heard she’d want to be, the little slut.”

“Can you please stop,” I say, breathlessly.

“OK, what’s the plan for today?” Sally asks.

“I have to study in the afternoon, catch up on some things,” Jess says. It dawns on me that this is ending. All of this is ending. I’ll be going home and it’ll be normal again. It’ll be normal and boring.

“I’ll call you this evening, then. Toni, give Jess your number and I’ll get it from her. I would usually say something like it was a pleasure to meet you but we’ll be running riot again soon so it’s unnecessary. Anyway, you already know all this.”

“I...” I say. What does she mean Again? Soon?

“Toni’s lost for words,” Jess says.

I force myself to speak up but all I can say is, “I had fun.”

“Yeah, we know. You’re one of us, now. Jess, get her sorted.”

“Sure thing,” Jess says.

“I’ll call tonight,” Sally says, then hangs up.

Jess stands and takes a few steps. “Coffee?”

“Please,” I say. As I watch her pour the coffee and move the milk and cup to the counter I realise my mind is all static, me unable to pull a single thread of thought from the seeming thousands ricocheting inside my head.

Jess pushes the cup in front of me and sits down, crossing her legs. She looks completely different in an oversized t-shirt and no makeup. Twelve hours ago she seemed out there, kind of wild, forceful, but caring. Now she just seems, I don’t know, regular? Tired maybe?

“Thoughts?” she asks. “Questions..?”

“What happened?” I say, without even thinking.

“What do you think happened?” Jess says.

Images flash through my mind from last night that don’t really form a story, more a feeling, but it’s a feeling I can’t identify. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, please. You’re not stupid, and you’re not some ditz of a girl. Think about what happened last night.”

“I really don’t know,” I say.

“No, you don’t want to say it. To put it in words,” Jess says. “And that’s fine. But just think about it. Permit yourself to know it.”

I lift up the coffee, then place it back down again without taking a drink. “When did you know? You know? Know me? That I wasn’t..?” I ask.

“What? That you weren’t playing? And that you are who you are?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess.”

“Instantly,” she says. “Never,” she continues. “I still don’t really know.”

That rocks me. How can she not know who I am? The person sitting opposite to her? The, well, a kind of, sort of... A kind of ‘wants this to go’ on person. A person she helped create.

“Come on. You’re thinking something big.”

“I...” I can’t say it.

“You’re thinking the big question, so I’ll ask you. Do you want Toni with an i to end?” she says. “It’s out there now, so straight answer.”

“No,” I say, snapping the word out in an instant, as if to put it out of its misery. Then I sigh. It feels like I’ve emptied my chest. Like it’s hollow.

“Then that’s that. Decision made. Simple, really.”

“It’s not simple,” I say.

“Oh my god, Toni! It’s so simple! Just let it happen.”

“But I’m not a girl,” I say.

“Who cares?” Jess says, which is not what I want to hear. I do not want Jess to be telling me I’m not a girl.

“But if I’m not a girl?” I say.

“But what if you are? What does it matter what I think? It’s about what you think. It’s about who you are,” she says. “It’s about what you want.”

“I want to...” I say, trailing off.

“Yes, you want to be you. And to answer your original question the second you walked through that door, into the living room, in all your beauty, I knew this wasn’t a joke. That chances are you weren’t playing a game, you weren’t just living up to a silly bet. Your head was held high, and you looked happy, and proud. You were just you.”

“I wasn’t,” I say, but I feel uneasy saying it.

“That’s the impression you gave off. And every moment of last night, every interaction, everything you said and did confirmed that you were exactly who I saw you were. I didn’t know if you were just playing a game, playing it exceedingly well, so I can only go on what I see, and hear, and my own instincts, and Toni, from what I can tell, and trust, is a woman I want in my life. You seem like an honest person. So you’re my new friend, one who’ll be with me a long, long time. If you want.”

“How do I do this?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this,” Jess says. “But you have the internet. Start googling. What I can do is be your friend.”

“Start googling,” I say, and think of my computer at home. “How do I get home?”

“Get a taxi,” she says. “And there’s a few buses that stop outside. Walk? How would you normally get home?”

“I can’t wear what I was wearing last night,” I say.

“No, you can’t. I don’t want people seeing someone do the walk of shame from my front door if I didn’t even get some,” Jess says. “It’d be cruel on me.”

“I mean, what do I wear?”

“Look around you, Toni. What do you see?” Her studio is mostly wood laminate on the floor with a rug, a futon with coffee table before it, a bed, the kitchen area, the counter we’re at, and rack after rack of clothing, which my eyes keep turning to.

“Yeah, I like fashion,” Jess says. “And I don’t like giving my clothes away but you’re my favourite person in the world, at the moment, so what do you want to wear?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Oh my god, Toni. You have words. Use them. Try and please string a cohesive sentence together without me dragging everything out of you. I know it’s hard, I know this is new, but what do you like? What style do you want? Who do you want to be?”

“I liked what Sally was wearing,” I say. Then try and force something more out of my mind. “I don’t know. It looked warm. Cosy almost. But, you know, it showed her off. She looked put together. And it was, I don’t know. It was of a time.”

“Sweater dress, boots, easy,” Jess says.

“Boots?” I ask. “What if they don’t fit?”

“Oh, I put on your heels last night. They are divine! And expensive. And we’re the same size. Which is the obvious reason you’re a woman. No man would have such dainty feet as you.” Jess laughs.

“We’re having a pedicure next weekend?” I ask.

“Yes! We are! You remembered.” And I think back to the start of last night, in Steve’s room, imagining someone nibbling on my toes. “You drink your coffee and I’ll pull some options out for you,” Jess says, as she stands and walks between clothes racks.

I’m drinking my coffee, all up in my mind about how this isn’t actually over when Jess says, “Come on, babe. I’ve picked two outfits for you.”

I stand and walk to Jess. On the bed are two sweater dresses, the same length, both full sleeved. One is white wool, and a little fluffy, by design. The other is a tight machine knit, black, with mirrored, horizontal stripes across the chest in orange, blue and grey.

“Which do you like?” Jess asks.

“I love them both,” I say.

“You can’t have both. I told you, you’re not raiding my wardrobe whenever you feel like it. This is just necessity. But a necessity I’m happy to give into, this time.”

“The white wool would look, well, pretty powerful with my bob” I say, thinking of the black, angular wig. “But the black one, I don’t know, it looks more ready.”

“You don’t have to wear the wig,” Jess says.

“What? Of course I do!” I say.

“No. Not at all. You pick the dress you want, don’t think of your hair and I’ll make you look like a total hottie going about her Saturday business.”

“The black one,” I say, thinking of Jess making my man hair into something. I do like the black one that bit more, anyway.

“Done!” Jess says.

“Do I just—”

“Yeah, you just!”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, you just get dressed, like any other woman on a Saturday morning. You just go about your day. You probably have some errands to run, and you probably need to look up a few things online. You probably need to catch up on sleep after a busy week at work and tiring night out. You just!”

“Yeah,” I say.

Jess picks up and hands me the black, knit sweater dress, then goes to a drawer, rooting around. “Some everyday panties,” she says, handing me a multipack of underwear. “Yours must be sickening by now, and some pantihose. The boots come later. Wash up, get dressed, and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

I clutch the clothes Jess gave me along with my own bra and I look in the mirror in the toilet, trying to take stock. This all just seems, I don’t know, normal? But vibrant, somehow? Like I’m energised but this is the kind of energy I was missing from my life, until now. Sure, I’m tired, and my brain has completely emptied, but why wouldn’t that be the case? It’s a Saturday morning, I had a great night last night, along with great sex, for the first time, I’m at my friend’s apartment and I have the rest of the day to unwind. I have the rest of the day to maybe process what’s happening, with no distractions.

As I walk out of the toilet, fully dressed, I stop and raise my arms to the side to show myself off to Jess. “Yeah, that’s it,” she says. “Just a normal, everyday Saturday every woman has. Now pass me the old panties and your nightdress.”

I hand them over and Jess busies herself with something on her bed with her back turned to me.

I sit down on her futon, mind completely empty.

I’m staring off into space when I hear Jess say, “Hello? Toni?”

“What?” I say.

“What were you thinking about?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Come-on. I thought we were stopping the whole reticent, obtuse, not talking thing.”

“No, really. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was just sitting. Feeling normal. More normal than I usually feel,” I say.

“That’s good, I suppose. Normal is good,” she says. She hefts a sparkly yellow, hardshell suitcase onto the floor. “I’ve packed your bag, well, my bag. I want it back. It has wheels. I hate to rush you out but I have a professional exam coming up in a few weeks and I really need to study.”

“Of course, yeah,” I say.

“These are the boots I’ve picked, just a little wedge on them. I don’t want you tripping over heels.”

“No, a hospital trip would not be good like this,” I say. I unzip one of the knee high black boots and set my foot in it, zipping it up again.

“Do you have a plan on how you’re getting home?” Jess asks.

“The bus? I guess. I think you’re on the same route as me.”

“Good good. But please message me when you get there. I want to know you’re safe,” she says, before coming into me for a hug. “Oh shit!”

“What?” I ask.

“I said I’d do your hair. Your wig is packed away.”

“Fuck! I nearly forgot.”

“You’re too good at this woman business, Toni. I didn’t even notice. Sit down again, it won’t take long.”

I sit and Jess messes with some mousses and gels in my hair, primping and teasing, turning my head this way and that. It really isn’t long before she says, “Yeah, that’s done.”

I stand and go to the toilet door to see myself in the mirror and I look like a perfectly normal woman. My hair isn’t that short, but it’s not long hair by any stretch. Business respectable, and lacking style, normally, but Jess has made it into a woman’s short tousled look in an almost 60s way, like I’d see on a model from those days.

“Right! We can’t have you staring at yourself all day. Time for you to go home and start googling, making plans, calling doctors, etcetera, etcetera.” And this time she does give me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, which I reciprocate.

“I’ve packed your suitcase with your clothes from last night, you have your purse, your phone, your keys and your money. Anything I’m forgetting?”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Yeah, of course,” Jess says.

“No. For everything.”

“It was my delight. And you can get me a drink next time we’re out,” she says as we’re walking towards the front door.

Jess opens it, and I stop on the threshold for a moment, before taking a step outside, wheeling the suitcase behind me. Before I realise it the door is closed and I’m hearing a security chain being put in place.

I take the elevator to the ground floor, an elevator lined with mirrors, and seeing myself I look happy. Not smiling. Not grinning like a fool or anything. Simply content. This is fine. I look like me in the mirrors. Me going on forever in reflections reflecting back on each other.

Leaving the elevator I go past the mailboxes, and step onto the street. Me, a normal kind-of woman going home on a normal Saturday, I tell myself. I assure myself. I shout inside my mind. I guess I really am Toni, at least for today, at home, and tomorrow, too, probably.

I walk towards what appears to be a bus stop, to check out the routes and schedules, and while I’m making my way there people pass me by, mostly paying no attention. Well, that isn’t quite true, men look at me, I guess, glances mainly, but some of the women, especially women my own age, flash me a quick smile. It’s barely noticeable but it’s definitely there. The third or fourth time it happens I smile back, and by the time I reach the bus stop knowing I am on a route that brings me home I decide I’ll instead take the opportunity to walk. It’s not hugely far, an hour or so, but I like being smiled at. I like being seen. No-one’s ever paid a blind bit of attention to me before. Why shouldn’t I appreciate this?

Eventually I’m approaching my building but I’m a little sweaty, and I was definitely sweating last night. I probably stink. If I shower my hair will be ruined so I need some of the gels or mousses Jess was using. And I’ll need some proper deodorant. My tummy has been growling for the last thirty minutes or so, too, so I need something for breakfast.

I pop into the little store just a minute from my apartment block before I think of the workers who might recognise me. Then I decide Fuck it! They’re not my friends. I’ve never said more than Hello and Thanks to them, what do they care about me?

I walk towards the front of the store where the small selection of hygiene products are and look for the mousse Jess used. I can’t find it, but there are some that say they’re mousses. I pick one up that’s not too expensive, well, it’s expensive enough, along with a gel, a scented body wash, then some roll on deodorant. As I’m picking up a pastry and a banana I think about the roller on the deodorant getting stuck on my pit hair and know I’ll need a razor to get rid of it, but I can’t see any razors.

I walk up the counter with just me and the worker in here, a guy I vaguely recognise, assuring myself he doesn’t give a hoot about me, and quietly say, “Razors?”

“We keep them behind here,” he says. “Theft, you know?”

I place my items down and say, trying to remain calm, “Yeah, of course, makes sense. Some razors, please. Decent quality, not the single blades.” He turns behind him, takes a pack and places some pink women’s razors down after checking them into the till.

“You look very nice today,” he says, looking up at me. I smile, a proper bright eyed smile. This is the first real compliment I’ve had. At least from someone I don’t know, even if he is just being pleasant. “Back from travelling?” He points towards my suitcase.

“No. I was with a friend last night,” I say.

“Lucky man,” he says.

I blush. “Female friend.”

“Well she’s very lucky then,” he says, with a dip in his voice.

“Oh! Not like that. No... Just somewhere to sleep after a party.”

“I’m Ro,” he says.

“Toni,” I say. He smiles and begins packing my items into a paper bag, something he’s never done for me before. I watch him as he does it, and he’s stopping and glancing at me every few seconds, with a cute smile, and I notice I’m smiling back, and a little turned on. Well, more than just a little. A bit, maybe.

“I hope you had a very enjoyable shopping experience, Toni. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” he says handing me my items.

“Yeah...” I say, as though I’m dreaming. “You’re nice...” I take the paper bag and leave the store as if I’m walking on a cloud.

I’m not thirty seconds down the street, still in cloud cuckoo land, when I hear my name being called out. I turn to the voice and it’s Ro chasing after me. I stop, concerned. Did I forget to pay?

He slows down as he gets close to me and holds out a card. “This is the security company the store uses, along with a few of the other stores around. Some of the women around here have their number too, in case, well... It’s not the safest neighbourhood at times. If you feel unsafe at all, ever, or anything happens, just call them. They’re on a shared contract.”

“Oh! Wow, thank you,” I say. I didn’t even think about safety. Certainly not for women. I just thought about, well, me. I look up and see him smiling at me and think I should give him a kiss on the cheek, as thanks, but that’d be way too weird. I can’t do that.

He turns and walks back to his store with me left standing, staring at the number for a security company. I guess that’s a real risk, now. I should probably start thinking about it more.

I turn the card over to see if there’s more info, and on the back and hastily written in pen is the name ‘Rohit’ with a phone number next to. My eyes open wide and I desperately want to turn around and see if he’s watching me but I’m far too afraid. There’s no way he means... He was just being friendly. He’s definitely not watching me but then I think What if he is?!

I smile to myself, feeling like I could dance, and more or less skip my way to my apartment.

Walking through my door I see nothing has changed. It’s the same as ever. I don’t really know why I expected it be different just because I’ve changed. Then I think to myself if I have changed? Am I different? Do I really feel different? I don’t know what I feel. Happy, I guess.

I flop back into my ratty couch and think about how I feel different, and if I really am different, when my phone beeps. I should probably charge it. Plugging it in I see a notification. I pull it up, “Please message Jess when you get home. She worries. Then message me you’ve done it. Sally.”

I guess this is just what women do? Ro did say the neighbourhood can be unsafe. I message Jess that I’m home, I took the long way back to enjoy a walk. Then I message Sally that I messaged Jess. I suppose Jess really does worry.

I fire up my laptop then figure I should really, really shower. First I unpack the suitcase with my clothes from last night. I’ll have to figure out how to wash the dress. Probably dry cleaning. Nothing I own needs to be dry cleaned, but that dress is fancy, wow! I place my heels down next to my bed, next to my man shoes. Yeah, they’re definitely way prettier. And I take out what else Jess packed. My disgusting, stained thong and pantihose I throw in my laundry basket with a smile, remembering. I can’t believe I’m smiling over that. Then I take out the night dress I wore last night that Jess must have packed for me, along with the multipack of coloured, cotton panties.

Everything placed away, I carefully take off all my clothes, laying them on my bed, I’ll be putting those on again right after I dry, before taking my newly bought hygiene products and putting them in the little shower stall.

I’m normally a fast showerer, in and out, but this time the hot water feels soothing, like I’m washing away a lifetime of worries. Even as I shave my pits, with the small amount of hair washing away easily I don’t feel like this is all functional, like it’s just getting clean. It feels invigorating.

I turn to my crotch, running my fingers around there and I realise what a wild night I had. Despite water flowing over me for what must be at least twenty minutes my pubes are still caked in cum. My cum, sure, but it’d be easier if there was less hair, wouldn’t it? I pick up the razor and start cleaning away just a few stray hairs, but then I go further, and a little further. If I don’t stop now I’ll be completely hairless down there. I’d like running my hand through a man’s pubes I think.

I haven’t of course. Ever, I think, startling myself out of a daydream. I didn’t actually do anything with G last night, which I think back to. I didn’t actually touch him. I wouldn’t mind, though. Being honest with myself I guess I wouldn’t mind. Just to try it. Just the once. And Rohit is cute, I suppose. He’s... And I notice I’m leaning back against the tiled wall, massaging myself. I remember back to smiling at Ro. I have a handful of myself. It was like a dream. I said, “You’re nice...”

My god! I said, “You’re nice...” grinning like a fool. He must think I’m an idiot! Some kind of dribbling buffoon. I cringe with the memory in my mind shouting at me.

And now my dick is as soft as a wet noodle. I guess that’s that! I don’t deserve anything after saying, “You’re nice...”

I finish up my shower, quickly, put on my red and black striped bathrobe and leave the water closet.

Sitting on my couch, still thinking of acting like a dopey, smitten schoolgirl in front of Rohit I pick up the mousse to distract me. It says apply to damp hair, which is just about what mine is now. I take it to my toilet sink and look in the mirror above it, testing my hair, teasing it into place. I style it with its moisture to sort of how Jess had it. It’s not as good, nowhere near as good, but it’s OK, I guess, for a first time, just for at home. I’ll get practice at this.

Sort of happy with how it looks I rub the mousse in, twisting it into shape a final time, securing it properly. I hope I used enough. Or not too much. I have no clue really. I sigh thinking if I had been a girl as a teenager I’d already know all this.

Looking at myself I check all over my face. I really need makeup, if I’m going to do this. And my eye catches on my upper lip. At the shadow there. Some fuzz! How long have I been walking around like this? Was that since this morning? I don’t have much facial hair but it’s not none. And I last shaved yesterday! I’ve been walking around in a dress and hose and boots with beard hair on my face! I feel sick.

I groan and close my eyes, my head falling forwards. I really do feel sick. My stomach rumbles again and I know I should eat. I walk to where I left the banana and pastry, taking a side trip to look at the clothes laid out on my bed but I turn my head away when I think of me walking around with a moustache while wearing them.

I walk to the kitchen, make a coffee and sit down and eat my breakfast. My stomach gurgles the whole time and after I finish I’m still hungry. I don’t know if I’m still sick thinking of walking around with a beard.

I look at the clock and it’s mid-afternoon, well past lunch time. I guess I’m just hungry. No wonder I’m so hungry!

As I’m making some instant ramen I hear my phone ring. Looking at the caller ID it’s Sally. I pick up, “Hello?” I say, with a sigh.

“Do you know Light Avenue?”

“What?” I say.

“Light Avenue? It’s the café bar.”

“The gay bar?” I ask.

“Well, no. It’s not an LGBTQ bar, it’s just, you know accepting. They don’t tolerate intolerance, everyone is welcome. Friendly and safe...”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I say.

“Can you be there in, say, ninety minutes?” Sally asks.

“Go out?” I ask, perking up.

“Yeah, 90 minutes.”

I think of my moustache. “I can’t,” I say, groaning.

“Oh no! What happened? Did someone say something? Did something happen?”

“I was walking around with a moustache!” I whinge.

“What?!” Sally says.

“Yeah, a moustache right across my lip, since this morning. And me wearing a dress, and looking like an idiot.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sally says. “There’s no way Jess, master at disguises, would have let you leave her studio with a moustache.”

“I saw it!” I say.

“Sorry, if anything it’s a little fluff. Emphasised by whatever particular light you caught yourself in.”

“I can’t go out like this,” I say.

“If you said you were busy doing research online, or you were thinking things over from last night I would have said fine, and we’d meet tomorrow. But now I know you’re being down on yourself I have to see you. I’m not letting you mope all night.”

“But my—”

“Just shave it,” Sally says.

“I have no makeup,” I whine.

“There’s time enough for that, we’ll talk about it when you get here so meet me at Light Avenue in ninety minutes. You know where it is?”

“Yeah...” I say.

“You’re worrying over nothing. You’re gorgeous. Ninety minutes. I’ll be here.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. I did have a moustache on my face but my facial hair is blonde, so only those people on the street saw me. And Rohit... My stomach turns thinking of Rohit seeing me with a beard. I suppose he still gave me his number, I guess. I can shave it off if I’m going out again. Sally said we’d talk about makeup which will actually cover this kind of thing in the future. I decide I should eat my noodles before worrying about all this. Maybe I am just hungry?

Nowhere near ninety minutes has passed, even allowing for the coming ten minute ride to the bar when I’m outside my apartment block, freshly shaved, hair styled, in my dress, boots, and Steve’s jacket. He’s way way bigger than me so I guess it looks like I’m wearing a boyfriend’s jacket. I think of people thinking of me as having a boyfriend and it feels OK, at least with how I’m dressed now.

A taxi pulls up and I sit in. “Light Avenue, do you know it?” I ask.

He recites the address, in a rather friendly tone. “That’s it,” I say, with with a wobble in my voice.

Pulling out into traffic he asks me, “Have you been to this bar before?”

“No, never,” I say.

“My niece likes it. She goes there fairly often, says she feels very safe there. You’ll be fine,” he says.

I nod, and smile, feeling better about myself.

I pay the driver, and he says, “Have fun!” I thank him, get out, look up at the sign above the door of the building and pull down my dress before walking in. For a café-bar it’s much bigger than I expected. Much bigger than the outside would indicate. Much deeper I guess. The lighting is low once you get beyond the now retreating sunlight streaming through big glass windows at the front, intimate but not date-nighty, and the air is warm.

I’m about to walk into the hideaway of the back and find a seat when I hear my name. I look in the caller’s direction and Sally is sitting on a low couch with another couch opposite it, both perpendicular to a terracotta wall in an alcove. There’s a sturdy, dark, wood table between them and small, white candles set on it in a row.

Sally stands and hugs me. “Did you find the place OK?” she asks.

“The taxi driver was nice, he knew here,” I say.

“That’s good. What do you want to drink?”

I look at the table and Sally has an almost empty, big glass of red wine set in front of her, so I guess we’re drinking. “Just a beer for me, please,” I say.

I sit on the opposite couch while Sally gets the drinks and I keep looking around. There’s some people at the bar, and others on high stools with high tables, as well as some low partitioned, cushioned bench seats with tables and more chairs in front of them. Everyone in here is stylish, really. And an equal mixture of men and women. It’s diverse, not just in race but in, well, everything. It’s metropolitan, but not business-y or formal. I haven’t been in a bar like this pretty much ever.

As I’m people watching I notice I’m staring at one particular woman, further back in the bar. A trans woman, a good few years older than me. She glances at me, and I quickly look away before looking back but she’s returned to her conversation with the woman she’s with. I hope she didn’t see me staring, I think, as Sally places a beer in front of me and sits down with her fresh glass.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m early though, and you’re already here.” I glance back at the woman who caught me staring.

“Yeah, I had to come early to get these seats,” Sally says. “But how are you, Toni? Toni with an i! We meet again.”

“Yeah,” I say, and smile.

“Oh, I’m so happy you’re here,” Sally says, squeezing her whole body up.

“I am too.”

“How was your walk home?”

“Jess worries?” I say, thinking of having to message her.

“Yeah, she’s a worrier. For all her bravado she’s really quite delicate. You’ll get to know,” Sally says, waving her hand as though she’s dismissing the thought. “If you’re with her just always, always message her once you’re home safe. Do the same with me but especially her.”

I nod. Not really knowing what to think, but Sally’s staring at me, and I look back at her, confused. “So?” she says.

“So what?” I ask.

“You’re a woman, now. What’s new? What’s different? What have you noticed? How does it feel? Are you happy?”

“Nothing’s different,” I say, a little shocked at myself.

“Nothing?” Sally asks, sounding a little incredulous.

“I mean, I’m terrified every minute someone’s going to laugh at me and call me a freak, or worse. I’m constantly on edge and have to force every fear that’s bubbling up down into my toes. The whole thing is all wrong but I feel fine with it. I don’t know...” I say, trailing off.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” Jess says. “The whole thing’s all wrong?”

“I’m all wrong,” I say.

“How?” she asks.

“Well, I’m not actually... You know. I’m not a real... Woman.”

“So? Anyway, don’t think that. You look fine to me.”

“It’s not just about looks,” I say. A thought I didn’t realise I was thinking.

“OK, alright, that’s beyond my ability. Did you have time to go on the internet?” Sally asks.

“No. I just showered and ate. I really did take a long walk home,” I say.

“Tomorrow then, or tonight if you can’t sleep, do some searches. There’s doctors and the like who can help. The woman’s clinic I go to has—”

“No. I can’t—” I say.

“Has therapists you can talk to,” she continues. “About things like gender, and sexuality, and what it means to be a woman like you.”

“I’m not a...”

“You’re not what? A woman? Do you really think of yourself as a some smelly boy?”

“I like the smell of some boys,” I say. A little joke, to change the subject.

“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable!” Sally says, rolling her eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, fear rising, but this a sharper fear, a less existential one.

“You were flat out denying you’re a woman fifteen seconds ago then you immediately pivot to saying you like how boys smell. All the while you’re sitting in a dress and boots, hotter than the sun, checking out every man who passes by. You’re as woman as me, if not more so.”

“I’m not checking out men!” I protest.

“Don’t deny it! I can see you. I’m doing it too. Everyone’s doing it. It’s one of life’s great pleasures.”

“But I’m really not,” I say.

“You were doing it last night!”

“What?!”

“Your eyes were sucking down Big-G!”

“I... Well...” She’s kind of right.

“You just did it again!”

“What?”

She emphasises with her head towards the man with a short and thick, but maintained beard, lumberjack shirt, flared, jet black jeans and black, detailed cowboy boots, but they don’t look like an affectation on him. He does look hot. Strong, I suppose. Masculine. And he has a package.

“You might as well be sitting in his lap!” Sally screeches.

“No. I just... I just looked him,” I say. “He was passing.”

“Yes! That’s what I’m saying. You’re checking out men. You’re doing it now. You’ve been doing it since you arrived. You were doing it last night.”

“Maybe. What if I’m gay?” I say.

“You’re sitting in a dress with your girlfriend. Jess fingered you to a screaming orgasm last night. But most of all, deep down, do you think of yourself as a gay man?”

“I need to use the toilet,” I say.

“Then go,” Sally says, pouting, but also laughing.

“But which do I use? The men’s or the...” I ask.

“I’m not helping you with this one. If you’re a man, use the men’s. If you’re a woman, use the women’s.”

“OK, fine! At least tell me where they are?”

“Nope, not saying a word,” Sally says, folding her arms across her chest, turning away from me.

“I got the message,” I say, and stand, and walk to the bar a little way towards the front.

It’s sort of early and relatively peaceful but I still stand a little way away from the counter until the most stunningly attractive, roughly thirty-five year old woman I’ve ever seen sees me as she’s mixing a cocktail. “Toilets?” I ask.

“At the back. To the left, hun,” she says, distractedly.

I try to focus on how hot she was, letting whichever toilet I use just come in a split second with the distraction, but as I’m walking towards the back, then down to the left I decide I’ll just use the men’s. It’s easier, it won’t offend anyone. It’s zero hassle. I won’t have to worry.

Getting to where the bartender said I look around and can see the women’s but can’t find the men’s. As I’m searching for them a woman opens the door from the inside and holds it back for me, with a smile. I guess I have no choice now. I go in, do my business, and quickly wash my hands. Thankfully no-one else is in there when I’m in there so I get away safely.

I walk back to our table, feeling relieved for that to be over with, and actually relieved, wondering what me and Sally were talking about.

“At the back, to the left,” Sally says.

“What?”

“Is where the women’s is. The men’s is at the back to the right.”

“I didn’t... The bartender sent me—”

“Yes, because she saw a woman. Because you’re a woman.”

“Why is everyone being so nice!?” I plead.

“Not everyone will be, not everyone is.”

“But...”

“Why do you think I picked this bar?” Sally asks.

“Because it really is an LGBTQ bar. And I’m—”

“No. It’s not. It’s a modern bar. With accepting people. I feel safe. Me! I feel safe here, and you should too. That’s what matters.”

“What about me?” I ask. “What about me feeling safe in me?”

“Do you think I’d hurt you?” Sally asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Well now I really am offended,” Sally says, with actual annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, stop that!” I say, sitting up in the couch. “I only met you last night. I have no reason to believe you’d hurt me, and you’ve given me none. But you might, even unintentionally.” I pause, but Sally doesn’t seem to want to interrupt this time. “Even unintentionally I’d be the one hurt, and I don’t want that, for me. This is all new to me, and I’m figuring things out. And anyway, I could know someone else for two days, and judge them completely wrong, and actually be hurt, be really hurt, or worse. I need to keep myself safe.” As I stop I realise I’m sucking in breath.

“Oh, wow, that was good. Our first fight. How do you feel?” Sally asks.

“What?” I ask, still with my chest pounding.

“You’re right. You have to look after you. But you also have to trust people. And you’re right not to immediately trust, to keep yourself safe. I didn’t think of how vulnerable you must be feeling, and how new that must be to you, when it’s a way I’ve felt most of my life. And it has been most of my life. The same for most women. I guess I’m a little jealous, and annoyed at you.”

“I do trust you,” I say. “And Jess. I’m scared too. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of what you go through. What women go through. What I might have to go through, if...”

“Please, please Toni! Look up a therapist! You’re going to have to learn all this so fast. Or you’ll learn a hard lesson. I’ll take you to my clinic if you want. They’ll be much better at this than me,” Sally says. “I can’t give you all the help you need. It wouldn’t be fair on you or me. I’m just doing my best, trying to be your friend.”

“You are my friend. Still? I hope?”

“That was a baby fight. But I want to avoid any more for tonight,” Sally says. “But it does bring up something Jess said to me.” She opens up her purse and takes out a pen, before grabbing some napkins. “Jess told me you asked her when she first thought you were a woman. Now that’s a boring question, because we’ve established you are a woman.”

“No, we—”

“For the purposes of this you’re my friend who’s a woman. I can’t help you with every bit of the trans stuff, because I’m not trans, and have never been friends with trans anyone, so most of the time I’m going to treat you like my female friend because that’s who you are to me.”

“I see some problems with this but I’ll go with it for a while,” I say.

“Detente, on it then. A temporary accord, for the sake of the children,” Sally says.

I nod.

“So I know you’re my friend and I’m going to be bold enough to say you thought of me as your friend pretty quickly. I want to know when you first thought that.”

“How do you mean?” I ask. I uncross my legs, lean in over the table, looking at the napkins and pen sitting between us.

“You asked Jess when she first thought you were a woman. I want to know when you first thought of me as a friend. I’ll answer the same question about you and we’ll both write down our answers and swap them.”

“Like that couple’s gameshow?” I say.

“Now I know you watch terrible TV,” Sally says. “But yes.”

“I thought you didn’t want another fight?” I say. “Because this seems like it’ll—”

“I bet it won’t,” Sally says.

“OK,” I say and pick up a napkin. Sally keeps hers hidden while scribbling then hands me the pen.

“Let me think,” I say.

“Take as long as you need,” Sally says.

I pause for a few seconds then write on the napkin, in big letters, In Steve’s toilet.

“Swap,” Sally says. I fold the napkin over and she folds hers over and we exchange them. “OK, open.” And I open up the napkin, but look away feeling sick. Like this is going to be the reveal of the trick. Steve is going to jump out and laugh at me for being a small dicked man, or some kind of tranny. That I’ll be stuck here, in a dress, with everyone knowing my shame. Everyone thinking me disgusting. That Sally will have written, I’m not your friend.

“Go on, look,” Sally says and I see she’s already unfolded my napkin but her tone and face reveal nothing.

I force myself to look and see written down, Toilet!!! with two hearts drawn after, along with some Xs and Os.

“See?” Sally says, as I feel a weight lift off me, and actually quite loved.

“Why?” I ask. “Why there?”

“No, you go first.”

I’m biting my lip, trying to think back to what I felt when I was in Steve’s. What I felt when I was in the toilet.

“I know it wasn’t when you looked in the mirror,” Sally says.

“No. It was after,” I say.

“Same for me,” Sally says.

“I was amazed at myself, in the mirror. I saw the person I want to be. And you and Jess shared in that with me. But it was more than that. It was support. And... I don’t know. I guess it just felt natural. I didn’t feel ashamed, or confused. I was really there with two friends. And the moment I actually felt I was with friends was when I sat down to pee.”

“What? Why?” Sally asks. “Was it this big I’m peeing with women thing?”

“No,” I say. “It has to do with why I was in a dress. Why do you think I was actually dressed like that?”

“It was the bet, I suppose,” Sally says. “And there was a part of you that secretly wanted it...”

“I think there was a part of me that wanted it,” I say. “But the most forward reason was, well, you saw how big, or really how small I am. You know, in the department...”

“Your little, itty bitty clitty?” Sally says.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Oh...” Sally says. And thinks. “Oh, OK! You agreed to wear a dress, and thong, and heels, so people wouldn’t see your thingy and judge you?”

“Yeah, as simple as that. And I didn’t care with you. It just felt fine. It didn’t matter. You weren’t going to laugh at me or think any worse or lesser of me, or hold it against me. I really didn’t care because I could trust you. You were my new friends.”

“For fuck sake, Toni,” Sally says, shaking her head and giving me a slow blink.

“What?”

“You’re saying you’re now a woman, given everything that happened since the start of last night, because you wanted to avoid people thinking of you as less of a man.”

“Yeah. That’s it. You get it,” I say, and smile.

“I need a drink after that one!” Sally says.

“Let me get them,” I say.

“No, it’s your birthday,” she says.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“You’re right, it could have been last night. You need to decide, though, while I get a very stiff, celebratory drink.”

While Sally is at the bar I’m mulling over in my head if I’m a woman because I’m not a man, or if not being a man is enough to make you a woman. Before I’ve even really formulated the question properly Sally is back down. “A shot and a beer,” she says.

“What shot?”

“Whiskey, of course. A warrior’s drink.” She holds her hand cradling the shooters out to me while she places the beers down, I take one, then we clink glasses and both knock them back.

Sitting down she asks, “So, which day is your birthday?”

“Technically it is today but I decided I deserve a birthday weekend.”

“Why today? Why not last night?”

“Last night I would have done anything to keep all this going,” I say.

Sally nods, “I’m with you so far.”

“But today I realised it’s up to me to keep it going if I want, I realised I’m allowed to keep it going. And I can keep it going, maybe.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not all drinking in bars,” I say. “And checking out men.”

“True,” Sally says.

“I have to go to work on Monday.”

“No work talk,” Sally says.

“Agreed,” I say, imagining myself being normal Tony on the bus to work on Monday morning. “Now you answer the question.”

“What?” Sally asks.

“When? Me. Friend. Toilet.”

“Oh. OK. Yeah, it was partly the mirror thing. That was when I knew you weren’t pretending at this. For real, I mean. There was no way you were playing a game, with that. Your reaction was all genuine.”

“It was,” I say.

“So then I knew you were a woman, which ties into the friend part. You’d just cum on my friend’s knee.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, but at least I don’t blush. I am cringing, though.

“No, Jess enjoyed it. She needed to get some, it’s been a while. And Jess didn’t care. She did enjoy it. Which made me happy. And because you made my friend happy, making me happy, you became my friend. It was just all around happy vibes. It was natural, and chill, and there was no edge to it. It was just friends, togetherness. Jess trusted you, so I trusted you and we were just being ourselves with no worries. Like, absolutely no worries at all.”

“So it’s literally because I got Jess off?”

“Well, she didn’t get off, really, but she had fun. So I suppose you could say you did. Sort of?”

“Who knew the secret of making women your friend was getting them off?” I say, feigning shock.

“That’ll rock the world if people find out!” Sally says.

“Is that how Jess made you her friend?” I ask. “When she...” I make the face I vaguely remember making when Jess made me cum. Then I cringe again picturing what I look like to everyone in the bar.

“Jess has never gotten me off,” Sally says, looking indignant.

“But you said—”

“We say lots of things. The one about bisexual Jess getting her straight friend off is saved for big occasions.”

“I guess I should feel privileged.”

“We’re retiring it now. For marriages, births and deaths only. And I hope there’s none of them for a long time.”

“It was a birth last night.”

“Oh, that’s a good bit to add to the story,” Sally says. “You’re being promoted to the straight friend who the lesbian friend got off role, and if we told people it was a one off birthday present it might add something. I don’t know, we’ll have to workshop it.”

“I wonder if I am straight?” I ask, thinking out loud.

“Well you definitely like men,” Sally says.

“No, I mean if I’m straight instead of bi. I can’t be a lesbian.”

“No...” Sally says. “Probably not with you screaming Big-G’s name. And I believe Little whore, or something like that.”

“What is Big-G’s deal?” I ask.

“He’s one of the nicest, most decent men you’ll ever meet,” Sally says, and as she says it she looks kind of calm. Almost like she should be backed by a meadow full of wildflowers and lambs. “Go get us another round of shots and I’ll tell you what I know about The G.”

“Fair deal,” I say and walk to the bar, thinking of Big-G.

At the counter there’s a bartender in black pants, white shirt and black tie, with little black waiter’s apron tied around his waist already waiting to take an order as I get there, “Two shots of whiskey, please,” I say.

“I think I need to see some ID,” he says with a smile.

“Oh. OK,” I say. I didn’t think of this, but besides anything else my voice gives me away. Obviously. And he knows. He must do. Everyone can tell. “Just a second...” I say, fidgeting with my purse.

“I’ve got all day,” he says, and I look at him and smile. He smiles at me, looking me up and down and I feel kind of weird. Not nice at all. I dismiss it. I’m just unable to get my damn purse open.

“Tom!” a stern voice says, causing me to twist my head around.

“Yeah?” the bartender serving me says.

“They need you in the back,” the stunning looking blonde woman from earlier says. She’s wearing tailored black slacks, a tailored white blouse, opened down a little, and has a silver stud in her nose. Earlier I thought she was one of the hottest women I’d ever seen but now she looks like one of the most formidable.

“I’m just checking this—” the bartender begins.

“Now, please,” the woman interrupts. “I’ll take this order.”

I’ve got my ID out as she stands next to him, seemingly moving him back and away with sheer force of presence. I hold out my license, “It really is me,” I say.

“I’ve been running bars long enough to know you’re old enough, just about,” she says, still looking quite stern. “Two shots?”

“Whiskeys. Please,” I say, afraid I’ve annoyed her.

She goes to shelves and pours, walks back, and brings the shots and two napkins down before me in a smooth motion. “Sorry about that. We have some new staff this week and now is the only chance we’ll get to show them the keg room before it gets busy.”

“Of course, thanks,” I say, but I’m actually quite unsure. “How much?” I really shouldn’t stiff this woman on a tip lest she hate me more.

“They’re already on your new friend’s tab,” the woman says.

I mutter, “Christ, Sally,” under my breath and put my ID away. Carrying the shots back to the table I wonder how she knew I was Sally’s new friend.

“Sorry,” I say to Sally, setting the whiskeys down. “She’d already put them on your tab before I could pay. I’ll settle up with you straight.”

“Not tonight, you won’t. It’s your birthday weekend. I’m buying. And you’re going to have a lot of expenses very soon, so don’t do anything stupid like buying a bottle of champagne on the sly to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah, expenses. Purchases! You were going to explain makeup to me, or at least my beardy lip,” I say rubbing it, wishing I hadn’t.

Sally spends the next ten minutes on various makeup products and basics to me. I’ve actually heard most of this before, I just hadn’t thought about it. There’s still a few nuggets in there, though. Finally, she inhales deeply and says, “But like I’ve said about ten times already, it’s all on youtube and you’ll just have to put in the practice.”

“This is going to be expensive,” I say. “Especially as I have no clue what suits me.”

“It will be, so put off buying anything until you absolutely have to, once you start buying there’s no going back. Get as many samples as you can. Go in with a suitcase, find a friendly cosmetologist, ask them to load you up.”

“Where do I go for these?” I ask.

“Some department stores are fancy, therefore expensive, so a pharmacy will be better. The literal store brands and brands you see advertised to teenagers won’t really do testers, so you’ll have to go a little upmarket, but not too much. The big pharmacies will have somewhat affordable stuff, and enough samples you could fill a truck with them. You know the giant one on Ross?”

“Yeah, they have a big enough branch near me. But I won’t be buying anything, though. You just said. Why would they give me loads of samples?”

Sally looks struck by something. She rubs the side of her nose as if it’s a compulsion and her eyes are wide as though she’s having flashbacks to Vietnam. She begins to speak like she’s far way. “The workers there are strange, strange women,” she says. “Some are total bitches, some are the nicest people you’ll meet. If one is nice, for whatever reason, they woke up on the right side of bed, sucked enough blood, you literally cannot know or predict until you’ve built a relationship with them... But if she’s the right one in the right mood, she knows if you get hooked on their particular brand of juice you will be buying that brand for the rest of your life. That company will make back from you the cost of what they give out in samples, and this is no exaggeration, literally thousands of times the amount with what you buy over your lifetime.”

“You’re making this sound like some big screen fantasy film where evil is women’s fashion.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Sally nods, and rubs her jaw, still in ‘Nam. “Maybe you’ve been exposed to some of it with the latent woman in you, but now you’re part of the machine. Women are a goldmine for businesses. They prey on us. And we enjoy it. You’re two days into this and already asking about makeup.”

“I suppose. And I need clothes. Jesus!” I say, and rub my knee. “At first I thought this would be terrifying. Then I thought there might be some fun parts. Now I’m thinking I’m going to be destitute.”

“Don’t forget the waxing. And threading. Nails. Your hair. Razors. Perfume. Shampoos, soaps, face cleansers, moisturisers, and on and on. I think you end up taking some of the same medication as me, which is another cost. But you don’t have to worry about hygiene products, which is a definite saving, unless you have a night with Jess again.”

I laugh at that, then blush.

Sally smiles a sweet smile and tilts her head. “Awww! That was your first giggle. You’re so cute!” she says, like she’s looking at a puppy, but she’s still kind of distant.

“Please! I’ve definitely giggled before. That certainly wasn’t my first.”

“Don’t take this one from me, bitch!” Sally says, finally breaking out of her war PTSD.

“We’re onto calling each other bitch already, are we?” the blonde bartender from earlier says, standing above the table and holding a tray.

“Oooh, presents!” Sally says, doing a seal clap and bouncing in her seat.

“It must be someone’s birthday today. Their 21st I’m guessing.”

“How did you know?” I ask.

“Well, I haven’t seen you here before. And Sally seems to live here. So unless you really are a completely new friend the only logical conclusion is Sally was respecting me and the near infinite tolerance I afford her by not trying to sneak in an underage cousin. But now you’re 21, so she brought you straight here for your first drink.”

“That’s exactly it,” I say.

The bartender looks at Sally, and says calmly, “Sally has also promised her cousin’s parents that she’ll have her cousin home by twelve and won’t allow her to go home with any strange men.”

“Her parents didn’t mention the 12am business but strange men are always out,” Sally says.

“Men are out for Sally’s cousin,” I say. “At least tonight. And I don’t think I’ll even make it to midnight.”

“You say that now but I’ve met one or two 21 year olds, and some of them can’t be stopped, then they’re back in here crying. Or worse, they never come back. Do you hear me Sally?”

“I hear you,” Sally says.

“Now you ladies can tell me what you think of these.”

“New?” Sally asks, as the woman places the tray on the table as she crouches then stands with her knees cracking.

“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” I ask the woman, seeing her shake out her leg.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet. I’m really OK. I’m well practised at this. I’m just old,” she says, stretching out her other leg. “And really I came over to apologise for earlier. New staff are a pain in the ass and I had a face like a bitch. I don’t want to scare away a potential new whale.” Now she’s cracking her back. “Anyway, come up to me later and tell me what you think of the cocktails.”

“Steph?” Sally asks, stretching Steph’s name out and with a sing song in her tone.

“Haven’t I done enough for you?” Steph, the bartender, says.

“Remember I’m a whale,” Sally says.

“One who’s getting two big for her boots and might not be worth the hassle. But, yes? What? Dearie!” Steph says quickly switching between faux sternness, and innocence and sweetness.

“Can I store two bags in the back?”

“How big are they?” Steph asks, brows furrowed.

“Huge!” Sally says, stretching her arms wide.

“Are they gifts for me?” Steph asks, looking brighter.

“They’re gifts,” Sally says.

“OK, Trevor will take you back in a minute. He’s just getting ready for his shift. Don’t forget them later tonight!”

“I won’t!”

“I’ll throw them out if you forget them!”

“I promise you these will not be forgotten.”

Steph narrows her eyes and glares at Sally. Then turns away, looking fully professional again. “Enjoy the drinks ladies. And happy birthday,” she says over her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re telling people it’s my birthday,” I say.

“I told you Jess made me orgasm.”

“Yeah,” I say. “And I believed you.”

“People believe things.”

I shake my head and reach for my cocktail wondering if Steph brought them down thinking it really is my birthday.

“Now the gift cat is out of the bag I might as well tell you,” Sally says. “I spent this morning clearing out my closets, picking the nicest clothes that don’t fit me and might fit you.”

“Me?” I ask.

“Yes, who else?”

“Why didn’t you give them to Jess?”

“Are you looking that horse in the mouth?”

“OK, you’re right! Can I look?”

“They’re behind the seat, and nearly bursting. No unnecessary movement. You can look tomorrow when you’re hungover, feeling miserable and need cheering up.”

“Just the first few things? From the top.” I say.

“Really, really bursting. There’s three layers of plastic and it was all I could do to get them here.”

“Fine,” I say. I take a sip on the cocktail through the straw. I have no clue what it is, other than alcoholic. Very alcoholic. I never really drink cocktails, not that I’m typically in bars that serve cocktails. But it’s nice.

“What do you think?” Sally asks.

“It’s nice,” I say.

“You can give me more than that.”

“There’s a lot of alcohol in it,” I say, taking another sip, trying to figure out more.

“What juices are in it?” Sally asks.

“No clue.”

“So when Steph asks you what you think of her hand-crafted, self-created masterpiece you’re going to say it’s nice and it has alcohol in it and you don’t know what juice is in there? And she will ask.”

“What do you think of it?”

“It’s nice,” Sally says.

“Oh, you hypocrite!” I take another sip, almost without thinking and place it down on the table so as not to finish it all in one go. Unlike Sally’s which has been completely demolished. “You’re a whale here?”

“I suppose,” Sally says.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m here fairly often, and being here often I spend money here.”

“So you know quite a few people here?” I say, looking around the bar.

“To talk to. They’re not really friends. I don’t know them as well as you.”

As I’m looking around I notice a small old man, dressed in all black, with grey hair and an earpiece in his ear walking around sort of painfully to tables, talking to most, sometimes checking IDs. He notices me looking and smiles, so I smile back. Then he waves, and I wave. Then he’s back to walking to tables.

“Who’s that?” I ask Sally.

Sally turns in her seat to see where I’m looking then turns back. “That’s Trevor. You’ll meet him in a minute, unfortunately. I’ll get more drinks.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I say, waving my hand over the one in front of me. “I still have my cocktail.”

“Well I’m getting one. I’ll need one with Trevor, so you’re getting one. It’s your birthday and we’re going to have fun,” Sally says as she stands.

“You can have more fun if like. I don’t usually have this much fun and I’m already feeling it.”

“I’ll put it in front of you and if you don’t want it you don’t have to have it.”

“No! Please? Sally?” but she’s already gone.

I’m watching Trevor when Sally comes back, expecting her to have a shot for me, but she actually has two each. “I can’t do this, Sally,” I say, and push the nearest shot to me towards the middle of the table. “I didn’t go out much as a boy. It was mostly Friday nights with Steve and them. I don’t have practice at this.”

“Well now you can practice,” Sally says.

“I’m not a boy any more, so I’m not giving into any machismo idea of matching you drink for drink. Just because you buy them for me doesn’t mean I’ll go at the same pace as you, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll drink them all.”

“Of course. If you don’t want them I’ll have them. No-one’s forcing anything, Just see how the night goes,” Sally says.

“He’s coming,” I say.

Sally looks over her shoulder, turns back, picks up a shot and knocks it back. Shot gone, she cranes her neck to where his face, of course, appears, and says, “Hi, Trevor!”

“Hello, Sally. How are you tonight?”

“I’m good, Trevor. How are you?” she says, all sickly sweet and polite.

“I’m in very good spirits, the same as every night, but not so great in the legs today. I still have to make the rounds though. Say Hello.” He stops for a moment as though he’s in pain. “No Jess tonight?”

“No, she has to study for an exam so she’s tired.”

“At her age? She’s too old for school!”

“No. They’re professional exams. For work. She’s looking for a promotion.”

“Good girl, good girl. Well wish her luck from me if I don’t see her,” he says. “And the most important thing is to get proper sleep. For both health and study, but fresh air is just as important.”

“I will, Trevor. Thank you, Trevor. Have you met my friend Toni, Trevor?” Sally asks.

“I don’t believe I have. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Toni,” Trevor says.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” I say. “But Trevor and me shared a smile and wave.”

“That was you?” Trevor asks.

“That was me,” I say, fully amused by Trevor. “You don’t remember me?”

Trevor stops for a moment, and seems to be thinking, eyes looking upwards. “Ah yes, of course. The girl with the friendly wave and pretty smile.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice this weekend.”

“A smile can give a lot of confidence,” he says.

“The other way around works too, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?” He asks. And pauses again. “Maybe it does? I think that works. A bit of confidence can get you a pretty smile.”

Sally rolls her eyes at all this and while her eyes are in the back of her head Trevor winks and at me and seems to stand a little taller.

“You’re a flirt, Trevor.”

“Guilty!” Trevor says proudly. “Now Sally can show me where these big black sacks are then she leads the way. She knows it very well.”

“They’re behind the seat, Trevor,” Sally says. And he goes behind the couch and carefully slides out two rather large black plastic bags. He positions himself between the two of them, twists up the top, bends at his knee and lifts them with ease.

“Sally is getting away but if she’s too fast for you, Toni, I’ll direct you.”

“I think I can follow her,” I say. “And I have no doubt you can keep up.”

“It’s just past the toilets, so you know the way already.”

“At the back, to the left.”

I walk down to the women’s toilets, pausing for Trevor once or twice, who is playing it all up, and find Sally just around the corner on an empty corridor apart from a door marked private and an emergency exit.

“In you go,” Trevor says. Sally pushes open the door and we’re in medium sized room. There’s bare plaster on the walls, and it’s cluttered, with cleaning supplies, paint cans and brushes on shelving, along with light bulbs and tools. Broken chairs and tables are stacked up on top of each other. The room is a mess. A working mess, sure, but still a mess.

Trevor places the sacks down theatrically, with a gasp. “Safe and sound,” he says. “And you know where they are, so come and find me when you’re going home, and if I’m not already at home in bed I’ll bring you back here.”

“Thank you, Trevor,” Sally says.

“Off with you before someone clears away your drinks. Your friend won’t know her way around if I don’t give her the tour.”

“Have fun, Toni,” Sally says, wiggling her fingers in a wave at me.

Trevor nods his head as if counting, and I know something is going to happen. This is all too suspicious. Trevor is far too suspicious.

“Please don’t mention this room to anyone unless you’ve seen them in here. If you think someone should be in here we don’t know about then let me know. Or let Steph know.” Trevor says, demeanour almost completely changed.

I laugh with relief, or I think it’s relief.

“Oh, don’t laugh. You lot always see through me, no matter your age. Now, follow me up.” He opens a thin whitewashed, battered, old wardrobe door set into a wall and up a step but once you really look the door is pretty much fully person sized. It’s just hiding in plain sight.

Stepping through I see it leads up some stairs covered in cheap red carpet with gold flecking, and red painted walls and ceiling, thickly painted on.

Trevor gingerly walks up, so he’s not all play acting. Stopping a few steps from the top he reaches out, knocks on the opened door a little way above him, and calls out, “Anyone home?” before turning to me and saying, “Sometimes people forget to check in with someone downstairs.”

He waits a moment and goes in.

When I step in I see the same carpet, the same red painted walls and ceilings, and a hanging lamp that seems to be on a dimmer. At the opposite side of the room are mirrors with lightbulbs like you’d see in a classic dressing room for the theatre or a showgirls review, with low, spinning stools from the bar floor in front of them. On another side of the room are what looks to be individual changing rooms, with red curtains hanging from rods. In the corner is a fridge. There’s a random assortment of screw together armchairs and couches, along with cushions and throw pillows all over.

I look back down the stairs to where I came from and back into the room to centre myself, to remind myself this is real and to keep from hysterics, and as I do see to the right of me is a notice board, with a few posters, home printed advertisements, and notes pinned to notes, but most importantly I see that hand painted on the door are the words Trevor’s Room.

“Do you like it?” Trevor asks.

“I love it!” I say.

“Thank you. I decorated it myself. Years of memories and people went into it, and not just the looks.”

“But what’s it for?”

“Sit yourself down so I can rest my bones.”

I do as I’m told.

“Remember, don’t tell people about this room unless you’ve seen them in here. It might be difficult to keep up it with some people, even if you know they know and they know you know. I also know secrets are hard after what must feel like a lifetime of them. Slip ups happen, but just gloss over it and we might have a word with them if you let us know.”

“This room is for trans people,” I say.

“All kinds of trans people. Men and women, although the men tend to use it less. Sick of listening to women, most likely. Personally I think you’re great, always have. But it’s all kinds. There’s some kinds of your lot still being discovered, and discovering themselves, and if I find them, and they’re not lunatics, I’ll probably bring them up here, especially if they’re struggling.”

“You’re a treasure,” I say. “And are you a boxer?”

“I was,” Trevor says. “A lot of security were.”

“No, are you still a boxer?”

“I try to train a little, keep in good health. How did you know?”

“You have shin splints,” I say. “From skipping. And boxers skip a lot, on hard floors.”

“Aren’t you a sharp one!” he says. “But I’m sharper, and you’re trying to change the subject from you and your kind. Standard deflection from someone still not comfortable in who they are.”

“Why?” I ask, lifting my hand to the room.

“I’ve been around the LGBTQ community for almost two of your lifetimes, at a guess. I’ve always loved it. Every minute of it. And most of all I’ve loved women like you. I’ve worked security in LGBTQ bars in multiple cities, across the world, and you’re the most vibrant, interesting, heartbreaking creatures I’ve ever met. I’ll never be bored around you. And I mean that in the best way. Not only that but you’re always teaching me things. I’m always learning with you.”

He grimaces, rubbing his legs, then continues. “I could go on forever but let me get the introduction out of the way. If you want to come up here check in with me, or Steph, or whoever’s in charge of security at the time, then the on duty manager, then anyone at all on security. Then we’ll want to watch the door in the hallway because there’s no cameras up here. And that goes for anyone. Don’t take pictures up here, don’t take a selfie even if you know you’re all alone. If it’s just you and your best friend there’s still no recording. Don’t take a picture of the noticeboard to remember something, if you need something to write on and there’s nothing up here go downstairs and ask someone at the bar”

“If you ever feel unsafe, in here or in the bar, even on the street outside, find me if you have time, if not find Steph, if not literally anyone in security. Nothing too bad ever happens here, mostly, but we’re a big bar, we can’t see everything, or really guarantee anything, and we’d prefer to be informed and ready even if it’s nothing.”

“You’re the head of security!” I say.

“I’m not,” he says.

“If you give an order it happens,” I say.

“Well, that would be correct. So don’t get on the bad side of me.”

“No. I will not.”

“Anything else?” Trevor says to himself. “The fridge... In the unlikely event you put food in the fridge please take it with you at the end of the night. I really don’t like cleaning it and I’m the only one who does. But yes, you can put drinks in there. Yes, you can bring drinks from outside the bar in here, but please don’t abuse it, the bar is still a business. It’s one of the few ones with morals, in my opinion, but still a business. That’s the general rule, you’re all mostly smart women and men, and know right from wrong, so don’t be completely silly. Don’t abuse what we’re trying to do for people who need it.”

“Mostly, though, don’t be afraid to use this room. It’s hidden away, but it’s hidden away for you. If you need a bit of peace on a night out you can come up for fifteen minutes, or the whole night. If you notice your nail polish is chipped and want to fix it up in here, that’s fine. Most people use it for the noticeboard, you’ll find out a lot from it. If you want to chat with me because you have a thing for old farts, or need someone to listen, I’ll find a few minutes. That’s what I’ve been doing my entire working life, just talking to people, and listening. But mostly come up here because you might meet a new friend.”

“I think I have met a new friend,” I say. “I could talk to you for hours.”

“You are a very nice young woman, and if you want to talk about anything there’s not much that needs me right now. You look like you have a lot to ask.”

Sucking on my teeth, considering it, I say, “I should really get back to Sally, if not much is happening she’s probably bored.”

“You haven’t been out with Sally much, have you?” Trevor asks.

“I met her last night,” I say.

“Let me check on her.” He leans down to his mic hanging on a wire and says “Blonde Sally?”

I giggle and Trevor is staring off into nothing. Thirty seconds go by and he nods. “She’s in the smoking area, catching up with some old acquaintances and having bundles of fun.”

“Do I get a call sign?”

“You have to be either very good or very bad to get a permanent call sign, and you remain to be seen.”

“I know which Sally was.”

“So you should go down to catch her in full flow,” Trevor says. “Confirm your hunch, because I’m not saying.”

“What was it like when you first started working in gay bars, Trevor?” I ask. I pick up a cushion from next to me and hug into it as Trevor smiles at the decision I’ve made.

I sit for what seems like hours listening to Trevor tell old war stories from his career, hearing things I didn’t think possible, with him just taking the odd break to say a few words into his mic, when I hear him say something about Blonde Sally.

“Is she OK?” I ask, realising I must have been ignoring her for an age.

“We don’t snitch on people. If someone is in trouble we’ll help, but as a general rule we don’t tell friends who did different things what the other friend has been doing. And more importantly you shouldn’t worry if you hear a name you recognise. We could just be laughing at someone who lit their last cigarette backwards.”

“But she is OK?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s been told her next drink has to be a glass of water or she’ll regret it in the morning.”

“Will you tell me where she is? So I can find her? And try to get her home so I can go home?”

“I’d guess she’s out for the night, now. You should go home if you need rest. Go up and say Goodbye to Steph first, though, please.”

“Where’s Sally?” I ask.

“Back of the smoking area. The very back. It’s quite big, and busy at the moment, more of terrace really. But if you don’t do the smart thing and go home to bed then at least have a wander about and chat to people. You never know what interesting people you’ll meet.”

I make my way out to the smoking area, in a rush, and it really is jammed. And noisy. I think of Trevor telling me to chat to people but I can’t imagine it out here, not like this. I push my way into it while getting jostled around until I make it to an alcove at the back, where Sally is, of course, knocking back a shot and swaying.

“Sally,” I say. “Sally?”

She turns to look at me but instead of saying anything, although it looks like she’s trying, she just smiles, holds her hands in the air and begins to dance.

“Sally, I want to go home,” I say.

“And you’ve come to say goodbye! Give me a hug!”

“I want you to come home too.”

“I can’t go home with you. We’re both straight!”

“Sally, please. Just tonight. I won’t ask any other night, just tonight. It’s my birthday,” I say.

Sally begins to sing me Happy Birthday, slurring most of the words as she’s spilling the random drink she picked up from the table, and a few of the people she was just talking to join in half-heartedly, apart from the one guy bellowing the song.

“Happy Birthday, to my favourite person. My favourite person who is having their birthday,” she says, hands back in the air again while she slowly spins.

“So please, let’s go home.”

Sally sighs a crackling sigh, obviously after a smoking a lot, and says. “OK, because it’s your birthday I’ll finish my beer and cigarette and meet you at the door.”

“Fifteen minutes, please. Promise?” I ask.

“Promise. One beer, one cigarette. Fifteen minutes.” Sally is waving her arms around like a drunk airplane now, then stops, looks at me with half closed eyes and a serious look. “Maybe two beers, but no longer than two fifteen minuteses,” she says. Which I do not believe at all. I’ll try again in a thirty minutes.

I tug my dress and down and a guy stands up in front of me. “Happy Birthday,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, not even looking at him. I’m looking to figure out a path through the crowd, and if it’ll be easier the next time I’m out here.

“Is it really your birthday?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I say, standing still but half practising my jinking past people. Then I am actually pushing past people, getting inside, grabbing Steve’s jacket which is stuffed down between the armrest and the wall where we were sitting, I really have to tug to get it out, and I make my way to the now empty front of the bar and perch myself against a bench seat, waiting for Sally. And I know, I really know I’m going to be back in the smoking area soon, trying again to convince Sally to go home.

“You can’t sit there, hun,” Steph is saying to me from behind the bar. “Up here, to me.”

I walk, without hope, to near where Steph is standing behind the counter, right up to a red rope blocking off a little cutaway area with a few stools and some tables hidden away inside it.

“Go past the rope. Then sit. Up against the bar!”

I squeeze past the rope then place myself on top of a stool.

“Once I can break away from here I’ll take you home in the minibus,” Steph says.

“What about Sally?” I ask, raising my head to look up at Steph.

“I’ll take her home when she’s ready. It’s a pain in the ass to get to her place but she usually sleeps in the back while I take other people home first. Most people sleep on the bus. On a good night.”

“You take people home? You do this often?”

“If they’re in a bad way. And yeah, every night of the week. There’s a rota of drivers.”

“So I’m in a bad way?”

“It really is your first night out and your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “First everything.”

“So what actually is the celebration? You accepted yourself a year ago this weekend? You first went out in public? You came out to special people a year ago? I don’t think you’re on hormones a year, although maybe, you are pretty. It probably is just a one year celebration though. You’re too energetic and open to be older, although that could be your actual youth. It could be a two year celebration, at a push.”

“I came out this morning,” I say. “I guess I was born today.”

“And how long have you been dressing? How long have your friends known?”

“I didn’t know yesterday morning.”

“You’re confusing me. Yesterday morning, Friday morning, you weren’t trans anything?”

“No. Well I suppose I was. I was always, I guess.”

“No. You’re wrong. That’s not an answer someone who was never trans gives on their second day of being trans.”

“Before yesterday evening I’d never trans anything’d. I’d never thought about it. Never wore any of these clothes, never nothing. I guess it was all repressed because I don’t think I could have picked up all this without listening from some deep, hidden away level.”

“It could have been all repressed, but no actual actions or thoughts? Not even of men when you were alone?” Steph asks.

“No,” I say. “But let me go on.”

“Yeah, please do,” Steph says, and she’s completely focused on me now and looking a little intrigued.

“Last night I lost a bet in my friend Steve’s apartment. I had to put on a dress, which I did. Then I met Sally and Jess for the first time there. We had fun. Lots of fun... And Jess told me to sleep at her place. So I did, not wanting the night to end. The dress, and the fun, not that fun I mean, it was just new friends, and I felt OK, good. And it was fun, but I thought it was just enjoyable, new, not actually trans yet.”

“So I woke up this morning at Jess’s and had no clothes to wear home apart from that really nice dress I was wearing but it’s a kind of date night dress, really fancy, and I’ve never had to dry clean anything but that gorgeous dress is a mess now. And Jess gave me this outfit then I walked home.”

“You walked home in the dress Jess gave you? The one you’re wearing now?”

“Yeah. And women smiled at me, you know. Just in passing. No-one ever really smiled at me before. It felt good.”

“I bet,” Steph says.

“I showered, I ate, I noticed fuzz on my lip which is disgusting because I was walking around with literal fuzz on my lip. People actually saw me like that so I’ll buy some makeup tomorrow, but anyway...”

“Sally phoned me and said come down here. I did, and I was having a great night, but I’m really tired. And I want to go home, but Sally won’t go home because she’s really drunk but I’m not going to leave her. She means the world to me and I want her to get home safe, but she’s drunk, so I’ll be back out there again and again trying to convince her but I don’t really like drunk people. Or I’m not used to drunk people. I haven’t been around crowds of them”

“You’re really tired, and you don’t like crowds of drunk people, and you’re now a trans woman?”

“Yeah. I’m trans, I guess. But I’m not really a woman. And I don’t think I can be. Not a real, you know? I just won’t be. And I know I’ll learn to accept myself, with time, and therapy, and medication. But what if I don’t? What if I can’t be happy? What if I always look like and actually am a boy?”

“I do not want to cry about this. I cried last night, but Jess was there and I wasn’t in public. I don’t want to think this, and I don’t want... I just don’t...”

“Oh sweet Jesus!” Steph says. “Now Toni, please listen to me. I know there’s a lot going through your mind right now but you stay here and I’ll bring both you and Sally home as soon as I can fish her out of there. It could take a while, but you’re safe here, and Sally is safe here no matter how drunk she gets. And we will get you home. If Sally, for some insane reason does come out here don’t go off with her. I will take you both home. Only me. And Trevor will be keeping us safe.”

“Have I done something wrong?” I ask.

“No. God no! You’ve done nothing wrong. I just want to make sure you and Sally get home OK.”

“I’m a bit thirsty, can I go get a drink?” I ask with a sniffle.

“What do you normally drink?” Steph asks.

“Just a few beers.”

“OK. One will be up to you in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

I rest my head in my hand, mind screaming at me, and close my eyes and a minute or two later I hear the gentle rattle of someone carefully placing a bottle on the counter. “Thanks,” I say. “And for being so quiet but I wasn’t really falling asleep.”

“You’re very welcome. Happy birthday!” the woman says before she turns and walks back down the bar to where the people are still having fun.

I take a few sips and it gives me some energy, being so cold, so I slowly tip away at it.

When Steph comes back she’s with Trevor, who draws some black, velvet, floor length curtains across the opening between the main bar area and the front bar we’re in.

“Toni, will you indulge my questions for a bit while I have a drink with you?” Trevor asks.

“I asked you so many questions earlier it’s only fair,” I say.

He pulls a table out from against the counter in the cutaway, moves some stools around and soon we’re all sitting around it.

“Just to be clear, when you told Steph you never thought a trans thought before last night you weren’t exaggerating? And you’re not hiding anything because you’re ashamed? We won’t be angry and we won’t ask you tell us what if you were. That’s for a therapist you trust.”

“No, I’m not hiding anything, not that I know,” I say. “But I am thinking about it a lot since last night. Like, I liked looking at girls, and maybe I was looking at them deep down thinking I wanted to be one? It’d make sense, wouldn’t it?”

Steph puts down two glasses, one in front of me and one in front of Trevor. The bottle opens with a squeak and pop as the cork comes out and she pours some very big measures.

“But you never thought of yourself as them?”

“No.”

“And did you have girlfriends?”

“A few.” I take a sip of the whiskey, and it’s really nice. Smokey and smooth, but that’s what everyone says about whiskey.

“And what happened when you fooled around? When they touched you, you know?”

“I am very small down there, so I wouldn’t let them.”

“Did you get hard?”

“Not really, but I don’t even now. I suppose I did last night, with... Well... I don’t know...”

Trevor is nodding at Steph as he asks me this, while Steph is looking a little less frazzled.

“Did you ever kiss a boy, or even think of boys?”

“Never,” I say. I take a big gulp of whiskey this time and feel it fire across my chest. “These are all questions I’m asking myself, but I don’t know what my answers mean. And Sally and Jess aren’t trans so they can’t really help. I know it’s a lot to expect answers so quickly, but it’s eating me up, really badly. Last night was just so, I don’t know. It was a big night. Like I can barely think of it.” I sigh and take a small sip of whiskey, just to feel a burn again.

“Will you not hold me to what I tell you? I’m not an expert in this just a curious security worker with some experience, and promise me you’ll go to a therapist when we find you a good one.”

“No, of course I won’t hold you to it. Everyone’s figuring things out. And I’ll try to get to the therapist but this will all be so expensive.”

“Don’t worry about expense, for now. Just worry about who you’re going to be. I think you’re on track to all this already, but a stab in the dark is you did repress all this, for whatever reason, and that’s for the therapist to work with you on. You might have low testosterone, you might be intersex of some variety, or you might have been a normal man. Combine all that together with the lid being blown off in one big experience last night, when you had been pushing all this deep down inside you, now include the fastest transition I’ve seen in a long time it just means you’re someone we want to make sure is OK, and who we’re paying special attention to.”

“Am I normal?”

“No-one in this entire bar is normal, Toni,” Steph says. “Don’t worry about that. In fact we’d probably kick them out if they were.”

“And I can drink to that,” Trevor says, knocking back half the whiskey before Steph tops up both our glasses again. “But you’re perfectly normal for the kind of person you are, just a bit complicated.”

I think to myself I can be complicated even if it’s less than ideal.

“Now just a few final questions. Then we can chat while we wait for Sally to exhaust herself,” Trevor says.

“Sure,” I say.

“Did you take any drugs last night?” Trevor asks.

“No, I just had a few beers and some white wine.”

“Definitely no MDMA?”

“No, definitely.”

“Did anyone there?”

I think back but I don’t even really need to think, the answer is obvious. “Not ever when I’ve been around them. It’s not that kind of group, really.”

“That might change,” Steph says, pretty much to no-one. “For some of you, at least.”

“Have you taken any before?” Trevor asks.

“I’ve smoked weed a few times, but nothing else.”

“Do you think anyone slipped you anything? Like do you know them well enough to know they didn’t? Think hard on that one. Did anything taste off?”

“I trust them all, but one person did act differently, kind of.”

“OK. That’s important. Who was that, and in what way did they act different?” Trevor asks.

“There’s a guy called Big-G, I’ve known him a little while but he definitely changed.” Trevor leans back on the stool and seems somehow more interested at this.

“Big-G? Sally and Jess and Big-G, Big-G?” Steph asks.

“Yeah, that’s him. Sally really likes him. I like him too.”

“How did he change?” Trevor asks.

“He was always really gruff, and strong. Like he’d bark at people, but last night I noticed it was only really at men being douchey.”

“Big-G barks at the bad men,” Trevor says, with a smile. “Toni’s far too sharp for her own good. And in all the wrong ways.”

Steph laughs. “Big-G’s a guard dog?” she asks.

“Yeah, a little like that,” I say. “He was always really nice to me when it was just me and him but I didn’t understand that. He’d get quieter. I actually felt singled out. Then as soon as anyone else was around he’d be back at his barking.”

“And did he bark at anyone aggressively last night? Or ever?” Trevor asks.

“No, it was always funny, like he was relaxed, or playing,” I say. “He toyed with Steve more last night.”

“He toyed with Steve or barked aggressively at him?” Steph asks, and it seems as though she’s curious about this guard dog idea.

“Neither. He was spurring me on as I teased him. He interrupted Steve a few times, but mostly he just piled onto something after I went at Steve with it.” I say, taking a drink. “Having fun.”

“You’re going to have to update Big-G’s file, add a few pages,” Steph says. “And do me up a Powerpoint on guard dogs. I feel I know but I’d like some bullet points.”

“Do you mind if I give him a call, Toni? Ask him to come down for a drink, if he’s around.”

“Big-G? That’d be great!” I say.

“You have Big-G’s number?” Steph asks.

“I have so many people’s phone numbers,” Trevor says. “And it’s always good to have a non-affiliated but friendly guard dog’s number in your contact list. Did I never teach you that?”

“I’ll remember it,” Steph says.

Trevor takes out a phone, an old style one without any smart features and almost as soon as he’s held it to his ear he’s talking. “Yeah, Trevor from Light Avenue... You’re what? ... Really... Why is that? ... Yeah, a few more details, please... Do you mind if I...?” Trevor stays quiet for longer than before, and as I lean in to try and hear what Big-G is saying I notice Steph is too. “No. The front door... There’s someone on it... OK, yeah. See you soon. Bye-bye.”

“You know? You kids are alright.” Trevor says.

“I don’t know what’s going on, now,” Steph says.

“It may be taking some of them longer to get there, but when they do they’re so much better at it. They’re basically playing games with us without realising. It’s at an instinctual level.”

“Trevor, you’re going to have me drinking and driving if you don’t speak up,” Steph says.

“It’s Sally who’ll need a few more pages in her file, while Big-G is getting a bigger folder. It turns out it was Big-G who told Sally to bring Little Miss Virgin Birth here...” Trevor stabs his thumb towards me “...to this lovely establishment. Because she’d feel comfortable here. Sally’s been under strict instructions to phone young Gary-”

“Gary? No wonder he goes by Big-G!” I say.

“Yeah, his name’s Gary. You don’t know everything, do you?” Trevor says, and sticks his tongue out at me while making a face.

I shake my head and reach for my whiskey.

“So anyway, Sally was told to phone young Gary if anything went wrong or Toni felt upset or worried or scared. I don’t think Toni had even fled the smoking area by the time Big-G was hurrying down here, the whole thing explained by Sally in seconds. Now Sally’s upset she was mean to her friend, and can’t build up the strength to face her. Big-G is going to find both Toni and Sally and sort it all out, taking them both home with him if he has to.”

“Fuck! They are playing games with us. Toni’s finding friends like that before she’s even in a dress. And they’re regular folk?”

“Big-G isn’t a civilian,” I say.

“A civilian?” Trevor says. “A civilian!? You must be on drugs!”

“I think he’s straight, but a little kink. Really open minded at least,” I say.

“What am I then, Mrs. I Don’t Do Drugs?” Trevor asks.

“You were civilian but now you’re paramilitary.”

“OK, close,” Trevor says. “What about Steph?”

“I don’t know if I want to hear,” Steph says.

“I won’t say anything then,” I say, and take another drink.

“I don’t know if I should give you more whiskey but I am interested in seeing what happens. But go on, what am I?” Steph asks.

“Even if you don’t hold a rank, you can be treated as if you do. And that usually comes from being part of the resistance. High up. And there’s always a chance a woman is a member of the resistance.”

“I don’t know whether to bar you from this establishment for endangering it, or give you the keys to it because you’ll obviously own it some day.” She tops up my glass, pretty much filling the tumbler to the rim. I pick it up, being sure to keep my hand steady, and slurp a little down.

“We’re obviously telling, Toni,” Trevor says. “She’s been open with us so I think she deserves it. But I think we should tell Big-G, too.”

“Why Big-G?” Steph asks.

“A guard dog crossed with a pointer? And one who’s doing it because it’s the right thing to do? A civilian? as Toni put it.”

“I understand guard dog. What do you mean by pointer?” Steph asks.

“A hunting dog that points in the direction downed animals are in is the technical explanation, I think, but I mean he’s finding and pointing out people who might be hidden away. Although I suppose he’s more of a retriever because he’ll actually bring them right to your feet.”

“OK, sure. I’ll let you take lead on this. You have the history on places like this,” Steph says.

“I was never an academic, I just know folk tales.”

“And Toni let you tell her some, on her first day.”

A woman’s head pops through the split in the curtains. “Sorry, Trevor. Your radio’s off.”

“I’m having a drink,” Trevor says, lifting his glass.

“That’s not happened in a while.”

Trevor shrugs. “Anything big happen?” he asks.

“No, the usual. Nothing that’s not being handled.”

“You’re here about Blonde Sally?”

“Yeah, in the toilet check.”

“She wasn’t asleep?”

“No. Crying. With seven ladies in waiting around her.”

“Lucky number tied as usual?”

“There was someone fanning her face, which was the tie-break”

“There always is with seven,” Trevor says. “I don’t even want to know who won the pool. I do want to know if the fan was a purse, magazine, hand or something else. That’ll come up again. What’s she doing now?”

“She’s cross legged on floor, refusing to come in here in case she’s in trouble. Demanding her friend come out so she knows it’s OK. Eyes closed and silent protest now, sleep very soon, if not already.”

“Do we know what she wants to be OK?”

“Just generalised blubbing,” the woman says.

“That’s all the info, Toni. Now it’s your turn,” Trevor says.

I stand and push the stool back. I take a few steps, holding the table for as long as I can to pick up confidence and make sure I’m not too drunk. As I approach the curtain the female security guard holds it back and I see Sally sitting on the ground, looking like a mess.

“Oh Sally! I’m so sorry!” I say.

Sally’s head bounces down, then she raises it, opens half of one eye and looks like she’s about to burst into tears, or possibly throw up, as she wails, “I’m sorry, Toni, it’s all my fault!” I reach down to hug her.

“No, it’s not,” I say, lifting her up with help from the security guard. “Trevor kept me on the tour for so long I couldn’t find you.” She rests her chin on my shoulder and I feel her face all wet on mine. Her body is almost limp in my arms. I start walking backwards.

Sally snorts. She has her feet under her now, mostly, with the security woman doing most of the lifting while I steer. “Trevor didn’t even show me the smoking room for two hours.”

“Bench behind you,” the security guard says. “Sit her down, then her lie down.”
I place her onto the bench as she’s wobbling around.

“Oh no! He’s here now too,” Sally whimpers, arm raising towards Trevor, as if to ward him off.

“Sit back and close your eyes and you won’t see him.” I say as she slumps sideways.

“Let me lie down next to you, hun. I want to get away from him too. He’s awful.” I say, and the security guard nudges me out of the way and with her hand cradling Sally’s head lays her down on the bench, and starts to stroke the top of her arm. She holds a her finger up to her lip, telling me to be quiet.

What feels like an eternity passes with no-one saying anything despite Sally being blind drunk before the security guard says. “Yeah, she’s fine now.”

“Thanks,” I say to her.

“How did Toni do?” Trevor asks.

“Fine, yeah. It was easy. Sally was happy to see her, which helped. And before you ask we don’t know who the He she mentioned was, just some boring guy she met, we think.”

“We’ll need your help when we’re getting her out, Ana.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Anastasia, would you ask someone to put a six pack and a bottle of whiskey in the minibus, please?” Steph says.

“No problem,” she says. And she walks out pulling the curtains closed.

I’m not even fully settled in my seat before I hear tapping on the window like keys. Trevor stands, and pulls back the curtain on the front. He unlocks the door and let’s in Big-G.

“Hi, Gary, come on in.”

“How’s Sally?”

“She’s asleep on the bench,” I say. “She’s fine.”

“How are you?” G asks me, putting an arm around me and pulling me into him.

“I’m OK,” I say.

“Trevor? How is she really?” G asks.

“It’s been a non-stop emotional wave for hours.”

“Since last night,” G says.

“Why are you all so worried?” I ask.

“Let us care if we want to care,” G says. “I’ve known you a while now, and you’ve gone through more emotions in the last thirty hours than I saw in you for the six months prior.”

“He’s good,” Steph says, and Trevor nods.

“I’ll sleep on your couch, tonight, Toni, but before that you’ll sit next to me on it. And you’ll cuddle up to me. And we’ll drink a few beers while you just sit, being held, not having to experience anything, nothing new, nothing to distract you, just sitting. And if you fall asleep I will carry you to bed, but you will have some peace and rest,” G says, squeezing me into him. “Is that OK with you?”

“That’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“And then, tomorrow, you’re taking things seriously.”

“Sit down, G,” Steph says. “We’ll let Sally sleep a bit then take you all home. I’ll pour you a drink.”