***FYI This is the third of only three chapters that will be shared here on BC***

CHAPTER THREE

Caroline clearly wasn’t waiting for permission. Not this time. Though to her credit, I wasn’t exactly resisting either. After all, I willingly agreed to be her hair model for the day and though this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, I was having a nice enough time to keep going with the flow. Plus, I sensed Caroline wanted to repay me for sticking around, and this was her way of saying thank you.

And so I let her do as she pleased.

The first thing Caroline did after freeing my hair of its bobby pins was give it a thorough, much-needed brushing. And I do mean much-needed, as she was happy to keep reminding me.

Caroline stepped back as the brush hung in my hair, stuck in some kind of knot. “See? This is why you brush regularly!”

Her plan was to work through the entirety of my hair using a combination of three brushes. The first was what she called a ‘detangle brush’, best for removing knots and working through any snags that may have built up over time by ‘failing to properly care for my hair’ – her words, not mine. Once it was back to a suitable evenness, she gave it a second go-around with a cylindrical ‘round brush’. This one, she explained, is the go-to for my medium-thick hair. It smooths out the hair as a whole and helps distribute the natural oils. She also implemented some unique pulling, twisting, and rolling techniques I’d have never thought to use.

I found it amazing that with only a couple brushes in the hands of a hair wizard, my hair already looked significantly better. Not overwhelmingly different, but improved.

Still, Caroline had a third brush in her arsenal, but before using it, she fetched a small bottle from one of the cabinets and squirted something into her hands.

“Uhh… What’s that?”

“Hair oil,” she said. “Keeps your hair healthy and helps it shine.”

Without further discussion, she rubbed the oil on her fingers and began distributing throughout my hair, starting at the scalp and working it down to the ends.

The hair oil gave off a sweet vanilla scent. Quite enamoring, though undeniably feminine. I assume this is a problem men with long hair run into all the time. We’re such a small part of the market that, naturally, we wind up using the same stuff as the ladies. So I decided not to object.
Caroline did a quick, final run-through with the wide, rectangular ‘paddle brush’, intending to distribute the new vanilla-scented oil more evenly and give my hair maximal shine and smoothness. And it worked. Beautifully.

“Well?” She began, stepping back from the chair and allowing me an unencumbered look. “What do we think?”

Honestly, my hair looked better than ever. Well, at least healthier and better cared for. My light-brown locks, while not in terrible shape, were in general, flat and lifeless. But somehow, using only a few brushes and some hair oil, my hair had transformed into something fuller, shinier, and yes, girlier.

“It’s… Well, it’s definitely pretty,” I said, unsure if I should mention the added femininity.

Caroline clapped and leaped. “Oh, good, good! I’m so happy you think so!”

I wanted to tell her that making my hair ‘pretty’ wasn’t exactly my goal, but I knew her brushing and styling session was her way of saying thank you. So I thanked her, praising her talent. Hey, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful to a new friend.

“Well, I know I can’t keep you forever. Still want me to walk you out?”

After well over an hour of sitting and getting pampered, I rose from the chair and followed Caroline to the door.

“Wait!” She stopped short. “One last thing.”

Caroline grabbed my hand and led me back over to the mirror. “Now that your hair is all sleek and shiny… Do this.”

She proceeded to push her own hair in front of her shoulders, leaning forward just a little bit. Then, with her hands beneath her long ginger hair, flicked the strands in a one-two motion behind her head.

“Toss, toss!” she narrated, whipping the hair back behind her back. “It’s fun, try it!”

I hesitated for just a moment, not sure I wanted to emulate such a feminine motion with my already feminine hair. But I reluctantly obliged.

“Toss… Toss...” I matched her motion and verbiage.

Caroline shook her head. “Too clunky. Try it again. Quicker.”

I reset my hair, pushing my locks to the front. “Toss, toss!” I said, this time with a little more flair.

My stylist looked on proudly, cheering and applauding my efforts. “Yes, Girlie! Yes!”

She skipped on ahead, out the door, and up the stairs toward the main Goulet hallway. I was fully ready to follow her, eager to get back to my new apartment, meet the movers, and get settled for good. But I couldn’t help but pause for one extra second.

Girlie… Did she just call me… Girlie?

========

Growing up, my dad was the kind of guy to always seek out the newest, trendiest company to invest in. No, he wasn’t a stock trader or banker or anything like that – day trading was merely a hobby – but damn did he funnel a lot of money into it. In fact, he was so obsessed with stock-picking, that he’d pressure me to research companies so I could invest as well. “You’re a numbers guy,” he’d always say. “This should be right up your alley!” But the investing bug never bit me.

I’m about as different of a person from my parents as possible. They were and still are pretty serious socializers. Their weekends were always filled with plans, morning, noon, and night. Partying wasn’t really my bag. I wasn’t the kind of high schooler to sneak out at night to meet up with friends, and even in college I mostly kept to myself. A good book and a warm cup of tea was my kind of thing.

Every kid is like this to some degree, needing to be the opposite of their parents. They partied, so I didn’t. They didn’t take academics seriously, so I did. They enjoyed a tantalizing, speculative investment, and so I tended to avoid the world of risky bets.

But hey, one investment I have absolutely zero regrets about was the decision to hire movers. And damn it if it’s not already paying dividends!

Shortly after getting home from The Goulet, the moving truck arrived and two enormous men hopped out. Within just a few hours, every single one of my possessions had been loaded into my condo. Even better, a different pair of guys showed up the next morning to help move things around, unpack boxes, and make sure I barely needed to lift a finger in pursuit of setting up my new home. What can I say? I’m an engineer. I’m all about efficiency!

Now I’m sure there are some who’d criticize me for outsourcing the most laborious tasks. And admittedly, I’m a bit ashamed I’m not strong enough to lift heavy boxes. But every human is built differently. It’s not my fault I’m 5’6” with the body of a twig.

However, as part of my ‘reset and regrow’ mindset, I’ve leaned into a new, healthy hobby: cycling. From the moment I arrived in Las Vegas, I’ve been waiting for a cool morning to take my bike out for a nice, long ride on the desert roads.

Cycling was something I tried a couple times during my final days in Rhode Island, and from the moment I hopped on the seat, I knew it was for me. And like anyone who’s recently picked up a hobby and quickly became obsessed, I’ve been researching and ordering all the latest biking gear and gadgets to make the most of my new favorite form of exercise. Today, it all arrived.

Brand new bike shorts, a sleek, sweat-wicking bike jersey, a bright-white aerodynamic helmet for both style and function, and several other gadgets like a biking watch, special shoes, and sunglasses designed for the road.

With nothing on the calendar and a whole day ahead of me, I decided to put on all my new gear this morning for a casual 30-mile ride. Thankfully, everything fit great and exactly as advertised. In fact, one thing in particular felt better than expected.

I should note that since seeing Caroline, for better or worse, I’ve been paying much more attention to my hair. I mean, it’s hard not to, considering how soft and smooth she made it just from some oil and minimal brushing. But much like getting your car washed, you do everything you can for the next few days to keep it from getting dirty again. Or at least not right away.

Helmet hair became an obvious concern, so instead of my usual practice with a hat or helmet – bunching it up and shoving it under – I googled what would be the best way for long hair to fit under the biking helmet. Turns out that for this particular helmet style, something called a ‘French braid’ made the most sense.

And so I spent a half-hour on YouTube learning how to braid my own hair. A task I’d never thought was necessary or even possible turned out to be quite simple after some practice. Hell, it even looked kind of good. I was this close to taking a mirror selfie and sending it to Caroline, but got nervous and reconsidered.

With my helmet snug and secure and my confidence sky-high, I took off for Nevada roadways.

========

I understand that the majority of people come to Las Vegas for the shows, hotels, and casinos – they’re an obvious draw. But take one bike ride around and you’ll learn that the views come in a close second.

The Midwest and the East Coast have their own charm, but there’s something about the vast, arid desert that is uniquely beautiful. Gigantic cacti on the side of the road and mountainous vistas in the distance reinforce the region’s sheer scale, and remind you how open and free we can feel if only we go out and explore.

Hitting the five-mile mark, then ten miles, then fifteen, I felt freer and freer, happier and happier exploring my new home and soaking in the local nature. It was a beautiful, affirming experience and an early sign I might just be in the right place.
I had a solid hour of zen until, eventually, my mojo was interrupted. Someone was calling me, and my earbuds promptly announced ‘Incoming call from Caroline Schwartz’.

I clicked a button on my watch to answer. “Hey Caroline,” I said between steady, even breaths. “What’s up?”

“Oh,“ she cut herself off. “You sound busy...”

I was busy, yes. And I had no idea what she wanted, but getting a call from a friend – especially when I have no others out here – gave me a little jolt of excitement.

“Just finishing up a workout,” I said noncommittally. “Everything okay?”

“Well… I just got into work and found a note from Molly. She wants a bunch of shit redone on her wigs and… well, I was wondering…”

I smirked. “You need my head?”

“Please!” she exclaimed. “Any chance you can be here in an hour?”

“Hmm…” Knowing I’d traveled around 15 miles in one hour, it’d take at least that long for me to get home. “Sorry. Think I’m too far out. I won’t be back in–”

“Wait, but are you near The Goulet?”

I thought about it for a moment, performing my best mental navigation. “Actually… yeah. I kinda am.”

“Ooh! Then can you come straight here?” Caroline pleaded over the phone. “Bailey you’d literally be saving my life. Not to mention my job. I’d owe you BIG time.”

Cutting my bike ride short wasn’t ideal, but the chance to be there for a friend in need is, in a way, its own investment. And an investment I’d really love to see grow.

“I’ll be there,” I told her, braking and turning around. “See you in 20.”

========

Pulling up to a Vegas hotel on a bike felt odd, considering the town is pretty strictly a walk-or-drive kinda town. But an eager, frantic Caroline was already waiting outside.

“Hey! Where should I lock my–”

“Just bring it inside,” she said.

I looked at her unsure, not entirely believing it was kosher to bring a road bike into a hotel. But then I remembered how crappy the lobby looks already.

I shrugged. “Maybe tire tracks will be an improvement.”

She had little time for chit-chat as I followed her across the lobby, wheeling my bike through the hotel’s labyrinth-like hallways – left, right, right, and two lefts – eventually reaching the mini lobby outside the Goulet Theater.

“Leave it out here,” she directed, referring to my bike and gear.

Finally, after a quick jog down the stairwell and into the dressing room, Caroline let out a long, loud, anxious sigh.

Jesus… The poor girl was stressed as all hell, pacing the room as she gathered her tools and wigs. It’s hardly fair that while I get to enjoy the open air and weeks off work, she’s stuck in a windowless room making wigs for an impossible-to-please boss.

“Wait!” she stopped in her tracks. “Shit shit shit!” Caroline frantically dug through drawers searching for something. “Fuck!! I left them at the store!”

“Left what?”

Caroline gestured to what must be the wig du jour – a poofy, dark-haired piece, half of which was curled and the other half still straight with two ponytails sprouting from the side. Definitely unfinished.

“The bows. I gotta finish curling that wig and then tie like a hundred little bows in it. But I forgot them at the store…” she snatched her keys from the counter. “You mind waiting?”

“Uh, I guess so,” I remarked, removing my helmet. I guess I’ll be here a while.

I watched as Caroline did a double take on my hair.

“Did you…” she mumbled as a little smile crept onto her face. “You braided your own hair?”

I blushed and clutched the braid bashfully. “I mean… Yeah. For the helmet. It helps for riding.”

“Well it looks very cute,” she said, more like her usual self. It’s as if seeing my braided hair lifted her spirits just enough to keep going.

But that favor didn’t last long. Caroline took one step closer to me and her nose immediately scrunched. “Ooo… How about you, uh, wash up while I’m gone… Pee-yew!” she teased. “Sweaty boy!”

I blushed even harder this time. “Hey, you asked me to come…” However, I politely took a few steps back to reduce the scent. “Well, where is it?”

She gestured to the door. “Through there. It’s a mini-locker room. Molly hates it, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Caroline hurriedly led me into the room where, sure enough, lived something in-between a locker room and a master bathroom. It wasn't glamorous, but the fact the dressing room had its own private bathroom of a reasonable size felt like a plus.

She grabbed items from the rack and handed them to me. “Here’s a towel, a washcloth if you need it…”

I paused for a moment, realizing something. “And… for shampoo?”

Caroline peered into the shower, focusing on the caddy. “Just use Molly’s. I know she’s not here today. She gets in from New York tonight.”

Again I hesitated. Not only was she telling me to use her boss’s shampoo, but shampoo that's objectively for women. Not to mention the body and face wash, waiting for me in their own bright pink bottles.

“I guess so…”

“And hey,” Caroline continued. “Might as well use some conditioner while you’re at it. Keep that hair nice and pretty, right?”

My voice wavered. “Heh, you got it!”

“Ah! You’re the best, Bailey. Back soon!”

And just like that Caroline was gone. I’d officially been left alone in a pop star’s dressing room, instructed to make myself clean with her girly-scented shampoos, all so I could help out with a wig-styling. Not exactly the manly workout day I had in mind.

Nevertheless, I stripped out of my cycling gear, now soaking wet from exercising in the hot desert sun all day, and hung them up to dry. As I set them aside, I got a whiff of my own stink – a taste of what made Caroline insist I shower and change. For the best, I might add.

But then it hit me. My cycling clothes. They’re wet, gross, and definitely unwearable. They’re also the only clothes I have. Either I put those back on, or…

My eyes peered around the dressing room.

…I wear something of Molly’s.

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Sadly, that's the final chapter I can share per the Amazon restrictions. Thank you as always for giving my work a shot! Plenty more is in the works :)

With love,
Jennifer

AMAZON LINK:https://www.amazon.com/Youd-Make-Cute-Girl-Feminization-eboo...