2

I awoke with anything but that deep, languid, contentedness that comes with a good nights sleep. Meg and I had been up most of the night talking, accompanied by a large bottle of vodka and too many cigarettes. My phone was ringing it seemed far more loudly than usual. It was Rachel.
“Hello?” I croaked blearily.
“Hi. You ok, sweetie?”
I grunted. “Yeah. You?” It wasn’t like Rachel to call when she was over in LA – we might exchange an odd text, but this was the first time she’d called me from there.
“Yes, everything’s fine here. Can you talk?”
I sat up in bed. “Yeah, fine. Go ahead”
She started, enthusiastically. “So we’ve been approached to come in on a new series; it looks fantastic! It’s about a private detective and his assistant. Set in Los Angeles. They pick up a case about a missing waitress from a chinese triad-run casino. Assistant goes undercover as a waitress. Only thing is, he’s a bloke.”
“OK, that’s novel.”
“I thought that might pique your interest…” I could almost hear her grin. “As the series develops, he finds that he’s enjoying it rather more than he expected. And his boss too. And they start to develop a bit of a thing…it’s a bit tricky explaining it over the phone like this, but the screenplay’s really rather good. It’s kind of like an LGBT Moonlighting.
I was silent.
“Hmm. I suppose you’re too young to remember that? Cybill Shepherd and Bruce Willis?”
I stayed silent.
“Anyway, it’s a great screenplay. Mike Williams is signed up to direct, and most of the cast. The plan is to start shooting the pilot in a fortnight – there are studios booked and everything, but there’s been no luck with finding an actor to play the assistant role…”
I’d been rather half paying attention up until that point, but now I was properly awake.
“So, the actors unions have been insisting that we cast a trans actor - I’m kind of ambivalent about all that stuff, but hey ho – and we’ve auditioned lots of t-girls but they’ve all been, how do I put this, too far gone to be able to play the role of the guy before he starts undercover. They’ve tried doubling up with two actors, one male and one female, but that hasn’t worked either. So, to get to the point. We came on board just last week. I had my first meeting with everyone today. I suggested they might want to audition you. What do you think?”
“When’s the next flight?”
She squealed. “Fabulous! I can get you booked on a flight tomorrow. Audition on Monday?”

I spent most of the flight reading the screenplay that Rachel had emailed over. She’d been right. Before reading it I thought the idea of making some kind of transgender on/off romance with a noir detective slant was a really bizarre mash up, but the screenplay was great. Mike Williams had a fantastic reputation as a director and it would be him I’d be meeting at the audition tomorrow. Rachel had also said that Ryan Nichols, who had been cast as Mark Ryman, the lead private eye, was also going to be attending so there was a chance to see if there was any chemistry between us. I’d not heard of him before – he was mid 30s and had been around playing bit parts in several film and tv series for a while, but this was his first big break. I googled him. I could see why he’d been cast – he had something of Robert Mitchum about him. He wasn’t classically good looking, but the fact that the proportions of his face were slightly ‘off’ lent him a cragginess that suited the noir theme.

My character, Paul Jones, is first introduced as a young, clean cut intern seeking employment at Mark’s firm. I’d had a few ideas about how to approach the audition based on what Rachel had said about some of the previous auditionees struggling to play the initial male role. I’d been back to Rachel’s salon yesterday, had the extensions removed and my hair cut shorter. Not quite so short that I couldn’t put extensions back in again in due course, but short enough not to have to wear it in a pony tail. I was travelling ‘in drab’ – my passport in the name of David Ross made that a necessity, but I also intended to arrive at the audition in character as Paul Jones. I saw him as a preppy type, and I’d fished out from my wardrobe a pair of beige chinos, a button down collar oxford shirt and a slightly ill fitting sports coat that completed my picture of him. I’d also packed enough of Sue’s things for her to make an appearance if needed to as well.

I grabbed a taxi at the airport – Rachel had given me directions to where she was staying. It was dark by the time I got through passport control, but the air outside the climate controlled building was still warm and humid. We drove for about an hour out of the city, climbing steadily up into the hills that overlooked Los Angeles from the north. Rachel’s house was exactly what you’d cast if you were auditioning homes for a Hollywood film producer. All steel and glass and cantilever. I trundled my suitcase past a slab of iridescent turquoise swimming pool en route to the entrance, taking care not to fall in as I was distracted by the twinkling of thousands of lights in the city hundreds of feet below us.
Rachel welcomed me inside. “Wow. Look at you. I’d almost forgotten what Dave looks like.”
It was the kind of flippant comment that might usually have been balanced by a grin, but none was forthcoming. Away from my conventional habitat I felt awkward.
“Listen. Thanks for setting this all up. I really appreciate it. It could be a big break for me.”
“It could be a big break for Sue.”
“What do you mean?”
“it’s Sue that’s auditioning remember - T-girls only. Are you sure that’s what you want?” She paused. “I’m sorry – you don’t need to answer that. Where are my manners? Let me get you a drink and you can drop your suitcase in the bedroom and get changed. You must be tired after the flight.”
We sat on the terrace with a scotch and talked about the audition. Up in the hills, the overpowering heat of the city was tempered by the altitude and a gentle breeze that rolled down from the summit of the mountain behind us. It was quiet, the only accompaniment to our voices the chirruping of insects in the arid scrublands beyond the house.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. Seeing you as Dave for the first time in ages took me back to when we first met. You’re not a bad looking bloke, you know. I know you enjoy being Sue, perhaps more than you’re prepared to admit, but if you get this job tomorrow. You’re auditioning as a trans girl. That means living that life full time, at least as long as you’re working here. Is that what you want?”
I looked back at her but didn’t reply. She stood up, took my scotch and set it on the table, and led me back into the house and into her room.
“Make love to me now. Please? Like we used to when we first met? Before whatever happens tomorrow?”