Diva in Disguise Chapter 2

It was always hard to gainsay my agent’s logic and as ever, I fell in with her line of thinking. For one thing, my inheritance from my mother’s legacy wouldn’t become available for some time. When it did, Rachel and I planned to buy a property in the nicer part of our adopted town, but in the meantime ready cash was in short supply. The earnings from the modelling work that Pete had set up was doubly welcome right now, in lieu of my usual income from employment at the salon. The day after she’d left, therefore, I roused myself out of my lethargy to follow her instructions.

I’d decided it would be better to visit the studio and see how the land lay rather than merely telephone. I donned my blonde wig and spent a good hour with my make-up, ensuring that my transformation was as thorough as years of experience with cosmetics could make it. Wearing a sleeveless top and smart skirt I set out for the given address. The day was warm, the sun shone encouragingly and though I’d brought a jacket, I left in in the car when I parked. I pushed the doorbell and waited, trying to calm some butterflies performing energetically in my stomach as I did so.

When the door was answered it seemed that my doubts had been altogether justified. The face of the diminutive figure who stood before me was all too familiar. Before I’d left the town, Tam Burnett had been a regular member of the small circle of cronies surrounding Madeleine and I’d often been in company with them. I stood like a rabbit caught in the headlights, while I waited to hear from his lips the words of recognition which could be expected to follow. Incredibly, they never came! Instead, his greeting served to dispel most of my fears.

“You must be Mistie!” he smiled. “I recognised you straightaway. Don’t look so nervous. I don’t bite! Well, not unless you want me to!” he giggled. “My dear. I’m so pleased to meet you in person. I’ve been a fan of your work for ever!”

He pointed to one of the magazines on a side table. It lay open at a full-page commercial displaying my image. I recognised the shot as one which had been taken in a photo session the previous year. So far it seemed that the little man hadn’t made the connection between that and the real me. Perhaps I might be able to keep it that way.

I began to recover my poise and to help things along, I sought to lay on some charm. “The honour is all mine. The reputation of your studio is well-known, believe me.”

“Simply too kind!” he simpered.

This was going well. Was it too much to hope that my incognito might remain intact?

Now that the pleasantries had been exchanged Tam and I got down to business. Pete had already discussed the outline of the projected shoot with him, but the fine detail of poses, props and what I would wear required some further elaboration. There were no difficulties to speak of, however, and once we had reached agreement there only remained the question of when.

“Let me fetch my appointment book.” The little man was about to disappear through an inner door when he paused. “I hope you don’t think it impertinent but… you really remind me of someone. I can’t quite put my finger on whom.” As he made his exit he called “Don’t worry! It is sure to come to me.”

Actually, that was what I was most concerned about. I had been feeling pleased with the progress I’d made until this point. The man’s mind now appeared to be running in a dangerous groove. How long, I wondered, would it be before he remembered who I was? I was tempted to run away. Just behave normally, I admonished myself.

Uneasily, I checked my reflection in the full-length glass on the wall. No! I couldn’t see any trace of Jennifer there. One thing was amiss, however. The top of one of my stockings was showing below the hem of my skirt. This lapse fell far short of the standards of dress to which I aspired and was the kind of sloppiness which would have outraged my mother. Automatically I stooped and raised my hem to adjust the offending item of hosiery.

I was busy repositioning my garter tab when I became conscious that Tam was standing in the doorway, obviously reluctant to re-enter while my legs were so exposed. I let him remain there for a while longer, seeking some means of distracting him from his train of thought. I was well enough aware of the man’s persuasion to know that he would not be physically attracted but I was desperate.

“It’s all right. I’m decent again!” I smiled disarmingly but delayed letting my skirt fall some moments longer. The ruse was a feeble one. It seemed to be completely unsuccessful.

“I still can’t recall the name.” It was as if nothing had taken place.

“The name?”

“Who you put me in mind of. It’s bugging me.”

Red-faced, I covered the confusion I felt by consulting my diary. “When...?”

“How would a week on Saturday at 3pm suit?” he ventured. “Carl, our photographer, can have everything ready for you to start as soon as you arrive. Everything will be just so, believe me! We never keep a model waiting around unnecessarily.”

I was okay with the proposal, even if less so with the idea of returning there at all. The risk of recognition was starting to weigh heavily on my mind. Regarding the date suggested, I would still be in the locality then and probably a further week thereafter, as finalising the sale of Mom’s house was taking forever. It was with relief that I bade Tam goodbye and made my escape. On the drive home I had a lot to think about.

One immediate difficulty facing me was how I should care for my younger brother. Until the school year had ended, I would be responsible for him. After that he would take up my father’s offer to go and live with him and his second wife. It had been Thomas’s own decision to go. That they would invite him to live with them was a matter of surprise to me. If I had been cynical, I might have entertained the notion that the terms of my mother’s will had something to do with the arrangement. Though Thomas’s share of the inheritance would be held in trust until his majority, once the house had been sold it would amount to something.

Our father had put in only a brief appearance at the funeral before hurrying away, but he and Thomas had stood together at the graveside in silent sympathy. His relationship with the kid had always been closer than his with me, and all I’d got from him was a brief acknowledgement and a hesitant compliment. “Hi er… Rob… er… Jennifer. You look… swell”, but that was as much as I expected. I was well aware what a disappointment my adopting a female persona had been to the macho guy.

Until school was out, therefore, I had to take charge of my younger sibling. The age difference was more than two years, though the youngster was already taller and broader than me. In terms of life experience, my view was that there was no comparison between us, but while confident that I was much more streetwise than my cosseted younger brother, I knew that Thomas wouldn’t see it that way. However, I wasn’t about to shirk my duty in this regard, even if less than confident how successful I would be.

My influence over my younger brother was called into question almost immediately. When he returned from school on the Monday following the funeral his demeanour was more than usually sullen. The way his face was marked also provided evidence of an activity I knew I had to disapprove.

“Thomas, you’ve been fighting!” I could see that the knuckles on one of his hands were raw.

“What if I have?”

“You know that isn’t how you’ve been brought up to behave” I scolded. I didn’t openly remind him at this early stage that Mom would have gone ballistic if she’d still been here. I sensed that I had been dealt a weak enough hand so was determined not to play my strongest card so soon.

My rebuke was greeted with a leaden silence.

“There is always a better way than taking the law into your own fists, you know.” This was one of my parent’s favourite maxims. “What was this fight about?”

“You don’t want to know. Someone was giving me a hard time, that’s all. Forget it.”

I knew I couldn’t let the matter drop that easily. I was pretty sure how our mother would have handled such situations.

“Who was it? I’m going to go see his parents and sort things out.”

“No, no, Jennifer!” Yes, he actually called me ‘Jennifer’!

“No, you mustn’t do that. Honestly! For your own sake.”

“Why for my sake?”

“Because it was about you. It was Denzel Rafferty. You remember the Raffertys.”

Only too clearly did I recall the troubled family.

“Well, he kept making out how you were… I won’t say what, and in the end, I couldn’t stand it any longer. Something snapped and I laid into him. He won’t be calling you that again any time soon.”

Suddenly I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Not only was my usually cheeky younger brother using my femme name as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but he had stuck up for me at some cost to himself.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Really, there was no need.”

In the event, my gratitude turned out to be a little premature. “Yes, there was. Mom was so proud of you and how you’ve turned out. I did it more for her.”

Really! Mom was proud of me!

“Well, thanks anyway, but no more fighting, got it?”

He nodded. I ruffled his hair and that was that.

When I lived at home Thomas had been a constant thorn in my side. A variety of snide remarks and witty epithets continually came my way from his direction, reminding me of my enforced feminine status. Mom had never seen fit to reprehend this behaviour. She just would smile that annoying smile of hers and remind me how women had to put up with this and worse from the opposite sex.

“Get used to it, honey” she would chide. “Being a girl isn’t all about wearing pretty clothes and making yourself look nice for the boys. You need to learn these life lessons. They will serve you in good stead when your husband is giving you a hard time. Remember that men only ever seem to have one thing on their minds, and we women are expected to smile and take it!”

What she alluded to revolted me. The very idea! Eww!!

What she would never admit was that my being brought up as a girl had been entirely her idea, and my submission was only due to my stupid desire to be in the good books of at least one of my parents. Small chance of that! Her words provided little comfort and only served to conjure up images that filled me with a sense of foreboding. What might my future hold?

Still, she was my mom and occasionally there were moments when we enjoyed a special kind of closeness. Though I’d been entirely reluctant over being raised as a girl, I wouldn’t have traded those precious times for anything, not even for the boyish pursuits that had been denied me.
There was a photograph of Mom and me above my bed which served as a powerful trigger for memories of such intimacies. It had been taken on one of my birthdays. Much effort had gone into arranging my hair that day and the experience of being treated to make-up and nail polish had made me feel like I was being pampered. Receiving that amount of attention was so novel that I secretly enjoyed it. On this occasion I even looked upon the pretty skater style dress I’d been told to wear in the same way as Mom did. Though I hated to make the admission, it was my crowning glory!

All I can say in my defence is that… at least I had good taste in clothes!