“I still saw Kissy instead of Davey when I looked at my reflection.”

Part 3 - Hollywood

Chapter 13 - Closet

Mom’s plans wouldn’t have her home before late so I had plenty of time to get out of the stuff Marjorie had dressed me in. Once in our apartment, I went directly to my room, threw the big green hat on my bed and kicked the low heel shoes I was wearing toward my closet.

I stripped off the jewelry and left it in a pile on my dresser, then pulled the little black dress off over my head. It was stretchy and had no snaps, buttons, zippers or ties, so it just came off like a t-shirt. The pantyhose were more of a problem, but I got them off without snagging them on anything.

And there I stood in front of my mirror, wearing nothing but padded underwear and a corset. I still saw Kissy instead of Davey when I looked at my reflection. I looked cute, sexy and very much a girl. I don’t know how long I stared.

I took the dress to my closet, found a hanger, and hid it in the very back, behind the warm clothes I wore when we visited Big Bear in the winter. I turned back toward my image in the mirror, stuck out my tongue at her, then put my hands up to ruffle my hair and finger comb it into a semblance of the pixie cut look Marjorie had achieved.

Close, I decided. I put a hand on one hip and looked at myself sideways. The only girl I knew close enough to talk to who looked half as good as I did was Marjorie herself. “Shit,” I said.

Mom wouldn’t be home for hours, if she’d been coming right home she’d be here by now. I had time to experiment without—without Marjorie sticking her thumb in.

I looked through some of the drawers of my dresser, finding a yellow t-shirt from an anime con I had attended a few years ago. The shirt had gotten too small but now I pulled it on and—well, it looked good. I found a pair of jeans in my closet that had been getting tight in the waist and I pulled those on. They were tight in the seat now but fit well enough.

I looked in the mirror. I was wearing padding but the outer clothes were mine and I still looked like a girl. “I should—I don’t—crap.” I was talking to myself, a bad sign. But I looked good. Even with no makeup….

I started putting stuff away. My yard-work costume went in the hamper. Mom’s hat I hung on one end of the mirror, near the door, to remember to take it back to the utility closet where she kept it. I put the big green hat with it, it could go out there, too. No place in my room to put it where it wouldn’t be seen or maybe damaged.

I hid the two larger makeup kits in a bottom drawer under my extra blankets. Some miscellaneous stuff like sunblock was destined for the bathroom.

But I discovered that Marjorie had slipped into my bag a package of panties and another padded panty, as well. My face was red while I hid those as well as I could under my warmer pajamas. Damn her. The two pair of pantyhose went there too.

I debated digging out my phone and calling Marty Bosch to go on over for the game tonight. Thursday night gaming was almost sacred in our geeky crowd. I discovered I was making a face while thinking about it. Apparently I didn’t want to go.

“Those guys—” I said aloud, looking at myself in the mirror. If I showed up looking like this, what would they do? I giggled. Yikes. But it was true, they’d fall all over themselves if they saw me, even if they knew it was me.

Gamer girls were the unicorns they pursued at every con they could manage to attend. The idea of teasing them threatened to cause a whole case of giggles. Maybe do a minimal amount of makeup and just show up like I was now? Okay, that would be funny but not a good idea.

What would it take? I booted my computer and found a ton of YouTube tutorials on makeup. I surfed away from them but bookmarked the search.

Sitting at the keyboard reminded me that I still had my nails painted. I had honestly forgotten. Maybe I could find nail polish remover in Mom’s bathroom or dresser, though I hated to enter her room to look for anything. With my current mood, there was too much temptation in there.

What was going on in my head? I had no clue. This was so messed up. I should get out of the rest of Marjorie’s stuff and burn it or something. Figure out how to take the polish off my nails.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in—uh—seven hours or more. I could find something to eat in the house, even cook something myself — I did more than half the cooking anyway, since Mom had a regular job and I didn’t.

I was making a face again, I saw. I didn’t want to cook. I wanted to go somewhere and do something. I sat on the bed and looked at my nails again. Why wasn’t I disgusted to be wearing such obviously girly nails?

I’d just thrown a fit on Marjorie for manipulating me into dressing as a girl, against her wanting me to be her girlfriend. And here I sat, most of the disguise she had talked me into intact.

What did I really want to do?

Four blocks away, there were a dozen fast food places and a few real restaurants in the strip malls along Hollywood. There was a Rite-Aid where I could buy polish remover.

Holy shit!

I got up and looked in my purse. Yeah, there was the $500 Marjorie had given me. Plus $50 from the yard work and the twelve dollars in bills I had had before. I should put that—I should save it—spend it—give it away….

There was a bank ATM next to the Rite-Aid where I could deposit the cash in my debit account. I’d have money for the fall to buy books for school. That’s why I’d been mowing lawns. I didn’t want a McJob and Mom had not pushed me into getting one.

She had promised to pay the low tuition cost to go to community college and to buy me a bus pass. All I’d need was money for books and maybe some food. Clothes…. Damn. I’d just caught myself thinking that I only had one dress!

I paced the room glancing at my closet door from time to time. From that to the mirror and back again. Pretty obvious to me, now—I didn’t want to give up being Kissy.

I felt my face go red. What a name Marjorie had tagged me with. I’d been called that before—how much more obvious an embarrassing nickname could you come up with for someone with my last name?

But—but—but this, but that….

What better chance would I have for experimenting with being Kissy on my own? I went and put the low heel—pumps? court shoes? whatever they were—in the back of my closet under the shoe tree and dug out a pair of unisex looking maroon deck shoes. I didn’t need socks with deck shoes.

I dragged my computer chair over and sat in front of my dresser. I took the small makeup kit out of my purse and contemplated what I needed to do. My contacts were still in, so green-eyed Kissy with her face bare looked back at me.

With the eyebrow pencil, I filled in and extended my brows. A touch of brown eyeshadow at the inner corners of my lids. Some blush on my cheekbones. Carefully, doing it slowly like I’d been shown, so it would dry as more was being applied, I brushed my lashes with mascara. And last, a dab of coppery red on my lips, blotted and reapplied.

“Hi, I’m Kissy Davis,” I told the mirror and it was true.

I looked at the bottle of eau de cologne in my purse and decided that if I put a little on my wrists, I wouldn’t risk a burn since they had not been waxed. It still smelled sweet and flowery, something a girl might wear every day.

I put the kit and bottle back in my purse, added a couple of cheap bracelets and my necklace with the chipmunk charm to my look, and I was ready to walk down to the corner to put money in my bank account, get a cheap burger and buy some nail polish remover. How hard would that be?

I brushed my hair again until I realized I was stalling. I grabbed my purse, and on the way out of my room, the big green hat. It was after six but the sun wouldn’t go down until almost ten and no use taking chances with my tender, freshly waxed hide.

I caught a last glimpse of myself in the mirror. It was entirely appropriate that the anime characters decorating my shirt were Ranma-San and his red-headed female self, Ranma-Chan.

Outside, I checked that I had my keys and made sure the door was locked behind me. Out onto Vermont and around the corner to Hollywood, it was less than a five minute walk to the ATM. Making sure no one was watching, I put $540 into my debit account, leaving me plenty of cash for walking around money.

So far, no one had paid the slightest bit of attention to me, not that there were many people around. As I finished my banking and turned around, a car pulled into a nearby space and an older man got out. Noticing me, he took two quick strides to the door of the Rite-Aid to hold it open.

I smiled and shook my head, pointing across the parking lot at the hamburger stand. He shrugged, smiled and went on into the drugstore.

I hoped I hadn’t been flirting with him, he must have been at least my dad’s age, but he hadn’t had any doubt that I was a girl. I still had a few of my own, but I was enjoying myself, and wasn’t that strange?