Thank you for reading Wildcat Summer. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

       Terry leaned against the tile and felt the hot water soothe his stiff muscles. They’d just finished an hour run on the road and through the Pennsylvania state forest.
       As they finished up, Zoe had pulled him aside.“What’s up? You seemed out of your comfort zone yesterday.”
       Terry nodded his head. “Yeah. I’m still all nerves. I’m spooked over imagining the Wildcats as a top-tier band filling arena. I know that’s what you guys want, but the ‘what-if’s’ keep making my brain spin too hard to focus.”
       Zoe was grinning as she gave Terry a sweaty hug. “You do love to worry. It may be your creative juices flowing. Maybe your inner voices are worried. My suggestion is to write some lyrics. Let it out and stop trying to keep it all in.
       Terry listened. “Good idea. I guess I was thinking about fear and danger. Maybe I’ll do some poetry.”
       Gina overheard them talking and joined in. “Oh, Honey-Bunny. Writing poetry is great as long as your lyrics end up in a new Wildcats song. We’ve got no time to be standing around while you’re writing pretty words for your sweetie. Warner’s awaiting.” With a grin on her face, she pretended to crack a whip. “Back to work, Bunny. Swing that sledgehammer! Break those boulders into tiny pebbles, prisoner. No time for thinking sophisticated stuff. Remember, yer just a guitar player in a rock band. Stay in your lane.”
       Tiffany stopped to listen in, then turned to Gina. “And you’re just a moronic drummer sticking your nose in private business and running your mouth. I keep wondering how you ever got into Mensa.”
       Gina went to give her a hug. “Aw, Tiffany. You know you like being the hammer. C’mon, baby. I’ll be your nail! Pound away!”
       Tiffany made a face! “Get your sweaty body away from me. God! What does Grace Goldman see in you, anyway?” Tiffany pretended to be grossed out. “Where you hiding dem smarts? Probably in the fat ass of yours!”
       “Don’t go critiquing my Italian shape; you stick your body. You should thank the heavens you got a gorgeous face 'cause nobody would turn to see you strut by.”
       Terry was laughing hard. “Ladies, settle down. We’re supposed to be helping me get over my ‘what-if’s’. You’re supposed to be worried about my well-being, not going all Jersey on each other.”
       Gina stopped and looked into his eyes. “Go ahead and list them, those ‘what-nots’. I want to hear them.”
       Terry took a deep breath and let it fly. “Well, ticket sales in Atlanta. And strangers stalking us on this tour. Worried if our songwriting’s gonna dry up. Interviews with strangers asking me personal stuff.” He took another deep breath and wiped his eyes. “And having dinner tonight with our high school friends. I know they’ll take one look at me all Tasha’d out and start laughing. I mean, these are the guys I grew up with. They’re horn dogs who’ll be sexualizing me 'cause I’m looking like a girl!”
       Tiffany grinned. “Looking like a pretty young woman. And walking, talking, and acting like one, too. Face it, Little. It’s all over for you. Call Amy and tell her to come pick up her little girl. No more sleepovers for you! Back to your four-poster bed and all your dolls. Maybe we can try again when you turn ten years old.”
       “What?” Terry looked puzzled.
       “Ignore her. She’s trying to lighten things up with a joke at your expense. She’s trying to cover up her own ‘what-if’s’ like Mike falling out of love with her.”
       Terry couldn’t let it go. “It’s still not funny. Everything seems to be crashing down on me at once. It’s like I can’t breathe.” Terry felt his face turning red. He wasn’t going to cry because he was getting angry.
       “Actually, it is. Like no one else has any self-doubt? C’mon, pea brain. You’re eighteen and feeling eighteen. All that shit’s still there in my head, too. And I’m twenty-four!” Tiffany gave him a sweaty hug.
       Gina started laughing. “Yeah, Tiffany’s mind never fully developed 'cause she’s been fucking her brains out since she was fourteen, and there’s not much left!”
       Zoe shook her head. “Enough. You ladies made your point. I think Terry just needed to let it all out. When will you see Grace again?”
       He shrugged. “Thursday. My weekly session. And I promise not to miss it.”
       Zoe hugged her hard. “Stop bottling all your worries up. Don’t wait until it freaks you out. All tours have security. That’s standard operating procedure cause there’s lotsa money riding on us. Warner’s can’t afford to be playing around. We’re the diamonds in this crown. And you won’t run out of songs cause that’s who you are. And I’m playing the role of Paul McCarthy to your John Lennon.”
       Gina smiled and nodded. “We’ll send Tiffany along with you tonight. Your buddies will be too busy staring at Escort Barbie in her transparent glitter top, micro mini, and six-inch stilettos to even notice you.”
       Thinking about all of that made him smile as he began to wash. Scrubbing with a body wash, then doing his hair and face, he instinctively ran his fingers along his skin to see if he needed to shave his legs and under his arms. Deciding he should, he grabbed the pink razor and the shaving gel.
       After touching up his bikini line, he laughed. Who am I kidding? He’d long ago crossed into the female line for the bathroom. Woman’s bathroom. Woman’s everything.
       And while he’d never say it aloud, he liked his life. He liked looking attractive and being part of a successful rock band where people looked up to him while he played. It was the first time he felt essential and belonged to something extraordinary.
       And Jenn. For as long as he could remember, he used to worry that she’d reject him. She'd dump him if she found out his boy equipment didn’t work and he never got muscles like all the other guys. Terry worried the most beautiful woman he knew would laugh and walk away. But instead, Jenn gave him as much crazy love as he had for her.
       As he patted himself dry and rubbed in moisturizer, he looked at his painted nails. The dark green color contrasted nicely with his pale skin. Slipping on a nude thong and matching bra, he used the palms of both hands to adjust himself in his underwear. Since his last surgery, tucking had given him a very flat front.
       Recently, Jersey Girl had been sending him lightweight and comfortable leggings that looked like jeans. Today, he picked out black ones and slipped them up his legs. Turning and looking at the mirror, he stared at himself. The high, narrow waist drew attention to his growing hips. They made his butt look soft and round. He picked a sleeveless white cotton top showing off his flat stomach. He made a note to get a piercing. After all, he had that tough girl image to protect.
       Terry had gotten used to the body-hugging clothing and swallowed as he realized how sexy he looked. He took a few deep breaths. This look definitely made a statement. It was one thing to hide in the shadows and curse his fate, but this look said that wasn’t happening.
       After straightening everything out, he turned to his hair. Using a little product, he carefully combed everything, revealing his shaved sides and piercings. He touched up his mascara and rubbed a bit of color stain on his lips. Staring straight at the mirror, he wondered if this was what the guys should see tonight. Would he bring Tasha into the rest of his life? Is this what he wanted?
       He tried to picture Joan Jett's appearance as if you had seen her out to lunch. Does Lady GaGa go everywhere looking like she does on stage? Did Madonna get in the carpool line in her stage clothes? He saw a video of Adele unpacking her groceries, wearing workout clothes, and with her hair pulled back. You wouldn’t have given her a second glance. He wasn’t Gaga but wasn’t trying to look like a twelfth grader named Terry Nelson who had attended Allentown High School.
       He decided to call Jenn for advice. He started by taking a video and sending it to her.
       While he waited for her to call back, he thought about the guys. They represented his past life and his high school buddies. What would they be thinking when they saw him? He wondered what dinner conversation would be. Terry recalled Tiffany and Zoe handling Bill Wiggins’ son and his friends. The two women smoothly kept the ball in the young man’s court, encouraging them to talk about themselves. Those boys loved talking, trying to impress the beautiful women.
       While manipulating his old friends seemed wrong, well, maybe the circumstances had changed. He wondered if he’d ever be able to completely relax and be his old self again. But how could he be his old self when he was having trouble figuring it all out?
       He went down two flights and saw Lisa back in the studio with Richard and Phil. They were looking through Terry’s song notebook. Seeing him walk into the rehearsal studio, Lisa waved for him to join them.
       “Hey!” He walked in and smiled.
       Richard was the first to speak. “We’ve been looking through your songbook, and you have enough material here for two more albums. How about filming your rooftop concert? We can post it on your website. We’ll just have to ensure you don’t step on Warner’s toes with any songs from the album.”
       Terry nodded. “I’m not sure if we should record it. We’re looking to show off a polished band playing hit tunes right now. It might be nice to throw a couple of videos up there, but we don’t want to take away from selling live and studio sides on our first album. Maybe just give our fans a taste of what’s to come.”
       Richard grinned. “Excellent! I see why the rest of the band gets excited with your suggestions. And now I realize why Bill Wiggins wants to hire you away to work for Warner’s when you retire your guitar.”
       Terry just nodded, knowing that he’d never stop playing. If Mick Jagger rocks Madison Square Garden at eighty, so could he. It was a nice compliment, but he didn’t want to work for anyone.
       He used to see himself fronting a guy band where Terry Nelson would sing his original songs and play guitar. But now, that thought couldn’t hold a candle to what the Wildcats were doing this summer. He had to admit that his life was changing, but he did his best to follow the flow. He was a Wildcat and had the tattoo to prove it.