What happened next? Well before Clay and I could go on our date, I needed to change out of my bathing suit. I mean I could have wrapped a towel around my waist, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and called it all good and ready to go. But that looks only suitable for the beach and not a end of the summer carnival. And going home and getting changed was kind of out of the question. Heck mom and dad had already headed off to find a secluded place of their own. I honestly think mom and dad were trying to rekindle the love of their marriage or something. I mean since coming out as a girl, mom had been more open about her love life. And from time to time, I could hear the rustling of  bed sheets, the sound of them kissing and the soft groans of pleasure coming from their bedroom. 

Anyway, with mom and dad gone I really had to think quickly on my feet. So reaching down and taking Clay be the hand I started toward one of the many consignment shops that dotted the downtown area. I kind of went into the nearest one I could find. It was called “The Treasure Chest'' and it was filled with antiques and vintage items. All of them though were covered in a good two inches of dust. The air inside was stale and smelled like moth balls. There was no order to everything, everything seemed to be just piled in.

Above the door an old brass bell hung and as soon as I entered the door caused the bell to ring out. The owner, a bald headed man with wrinkled skin and deep gray eyes, looked up from an old newspaper and peered out at me and Clay. Puff's of gray smoke swirled around his head as he peered at me. In front of him was an old beat up ashtray that was overflowing with used butts.

“Can I help you two?” He said as he peered toward us. “Better have a damn good reason for coming into this shop dressed like that young lady too.” He added as he took notice of what I was wearing. The red bathing suit from before and a pair of slip-on plastic saddles. The suit had dried at this point and so I decided it would double as underwear. 

“Yes I need to buy a dress or something.” I said quickly. Clay just peered at the man. 

“Dresses in the back. Changing room back there too. Mind the clutter. You break it, you buy it. Cash only, no credit card, no bank card, no personal check. And none of that script they passing off as money. Just cash. Price is what the tag reads. No haggling. Don't like it, you can get your ass out of my shop and go somewhere else.” He said in a commanding tone of voice. I knew then what I was dealing with.

You see in the south we have the remains of a generation that wish things had remained the same. Old men and women who remembered when there were still “White Only” signs hanging up in the bus stations and barber shops,  cafes and hotels. Who fondly remembered a time when white attended one school and blacks another school, those same people desired a return to those times. Those same people, would have me horse whipped within a inch of my life and then raped if they knew I was transgender. Heck that might even decide to lynch me.

If I had a choice, I would have walked right out of that place. But the other shops were closed or too far away.  I nodded my head and started to pick my way through the clutter, the tiny shop was a jumble of items. Cheap paperback books overflowed from an old cardboard box that  had a piece of paper attached to it  that read. “All Paper Back Books One dollar each.”

Now I'm a book lover, and part of me wanted to go over to cardboard box and start digging around like a mole. But upon taking a closer look, I noticed half the covers were missing and most of the books smelled like rotting paper. The pages had turned to a sickly yellow color and green mold was growing on about a dozen of them. This was no treasure chest, this was a junk shop.

“What you looking at boy?” I heard the owner call out as he peered toward Clay. “Better not be thinking about picking my shit.” He growled. “Been in this business for almost forty years. I know a pickpocket and a thief when I see one. And boy you look like one. Going to be keeping my eye on you. You and that girl, strange people running around this damn town nowadays. I remember, back when I was your age, the Klan ruled this town and we were all the better for it. Kept the streets clean. And our policemen. Jesus they would knock the shit out of ya before locking yall ass up if you dared cause trouble.” He sneered.

“I remember a time when the town's council and mayor reported directly to the White Citizens Council and that kept things running smoothly here. These folks would never have voted to have an event. They were the good old folks.” He added with a sigh as he returned to reading. 

Now, I have some pretty thick skin, but hearing this old man's rant kind of flanked my amour if you will. I mean I know I'll encounter people like that sooner or later. But I soon found the dresses, and his selection to choose from was very limited. Like maybe three or four old, dated, sundresses. But beggars can't be choosers, and time is of the essence. And so swallowing my pride I picked out the best looking one of the lot, a spaghetti strap sundress that was pastel pink. The price tag read “Four Dollars”. 

So I paid for the dress, changed into the dress and the date resumed. I felt a lot better, you know, wearing something that looked a bit more suitable. I'm going to be honest with you guys, I gambled. I mean yes I should have tried the dress on, but the changing room smelled and was dark. So I kind of hoped it would fit. And it did, it fitted me like a glove.

And Clay, he could not take his eyes off me. I was starting to enjoy that feeling you know. It was a kind of nice feeling, I can't put it into words, but walking down that crowded street, the wind blowing through my still damp hair, the sun kissing my skin and having a cute boy walking by my side. A cute boy that admired me that in a way wanted me, just made me feel special, like I was princess or something, no scratch that, it made me feel like a queen. 

“Mind if swing by the dunking booth?” I asked, “I just want to see who's turn it is. Then maybe we could get something to eat. I'm getting kind of hungry.” My stomach decided to weigh in on the conversation at that very moment by making a very loud growling noise. A reminder that I had skipped lunch and breakfast that morning had only been a small bowl of bland, tasteless grits. And those grits had long since left me.

 “Sure.” Clay said, smiling a little. “How about this, once you've checked out the dunking booth. We can do a little window shopping then maybe we can hit up some of the food trucks. I think even Cock of the Walk is even offering their famous fried catfish platters. We could split it.” He then paused. “Or I could buy you one.”

Now like any good southern belle, I was brought up on catfish, or tender strips of catfish fillets that had been battered in a seasoned cornmeal batter and once they were evenly coated fried till they were a golden brown. Served along with a pan of sweet cornbread that was dripping sweet cream butter. And don't forget the regional classical side dishes that included Collard Green, slow simmered till tender and stewed with bits and pieces of bacon. Okra, soaked in a egg wash then breaded in the same seasoned cornmeal batter as the fish and then flash fried, crispy on the outside, and tender on the inside. Mustard Greens, like their cousin the Collar Green's only with a bit more kick to them. And to wash it all down with an ice, cold coke-cola. 

And for dessert, pecan pie, and a cup of strong coffee. Southern cooking at its finest and as a southern woman, my mom had taken it upon herself that I should learn the art of cooking. The fact that I had once been a boy had been forgotten, vanished to some shadow realm, put out of mind and sight. I was her daughter and as her daughter I was to learn how to cook, clean and transform a house into a home for the day I was to wed, too a hopefully a well learned, well bred Episcopalian gentleman of the old Planter Class. That last part was a joke.

Anyway the talk of catfish had my mouth watering, so I was tempted to skip the dunking booth and go straight for the food.  But in the end my curiosity got the best of me and before long Clay and I were weaving through the maze side-shows, games of chance, booths selling all manner of knickknacks, and all the normal sights and sounds  of a small rural celebration that was one part county fair and one part giant flea market. 

It took us a good fifteen minutes of fast walking to navigate the twist, turns and dead ends. All the while we could hear people shouting and hawking their wares. The sun was now starting to dip below the building and a cold northern wind was blowing down the streets. The coolness of the night was slowly advancing and the heat of the midday was starting to wear away. The wind whipped around my ankles and caused me to shiver a little. I was glad that my shift had already ended. 

And soon we were standing before it. A big smile crossed my face the minute I drew near. Because climbing up the ladder was the girl before. I could clearly see the blush on her face. Blushing she twisted her bottom around and eased down upon the drop seat. She then smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, crossed her legs and placed her hands down upon her lap. It was a stunning display of demure behavior.

Without thinking twice I fell in line. I was third in line and stepping up to the throwing line was a little boy wearing a super hero t shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He had a ball cap that was pulled back and was chewing what I'm going to assume was a big wad of chewing gum. I know I come from the south, and dipping is just as common as smoking But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the morals of Benton are not so lax that they would allow a kid to dip. I was right, because at that very moment the kid spat up a huge oyster on the ground, no doubt mincing those baseball players of old as he reached down and picked up his first ball.

A second later that ball was flying down. Another second later that ball struck home. The smile on my face spread from one ear to the other as I watched the seat give way, dropping Lily into the freezing cold water below! Let me tell you something, it was so rewarding to see that little loudmouth floating around the bottom of the tank. She swam around for a minute, lost like a goose before popping back up. As soon as she popped back up a gust of cold wind came blowing down from the ridge line that surrounds the town and smacked her straight in the face.

“That freezing!” Lily shouted at the top of her lungs. “Nobody told me the water would  be freezing!” She said, turning to a collection of girls all huddled up together. All of them had towels draped around their shoulders like shawls.  And all of them seemed to be nursing Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, their shivering fingers wrapped tightly the cups for warmth. None of them seemed to bother responding to Lily's cry. I guess they were too busy with their drinks.

Lily's lips curled into a pout.  She just had enough time to settle herself; she once more found herself dropping into the water, much to the delight of the gathered onlookers, who all hotted, hollered, yelled , whistled, and clapped.

I watched with mild amusement as Lily climbed the ladder, eased her bottom down upon the wet seat and once more folded her legs and placed her hands in her lap. I could tell she was trying to endure the dunking booth the best she could. Not that it surprised me, she came from one of the oldest families in Benton. One of the oldest, most well connected, most powerful, most prestigious, and most wealthy. Well that is if you believe half the talk that goes around this one horse town. Or the gossip that fills the  beauty salon down on old Benton Road, that old concrete road that connects Benton with Yazoo City. If you believe that then I believe you don't have two pennies worth of common sense to rub together. 

Anyway enough of me rambling about. It was now my turn. I placed five dollars down and picked up my first ball. Clay was standing beside me, blushing a little. Well right now his arms were wrapped around my waist and his head was resting on my shoulder. I could feel his strong hand resting upon my hip and his strong arms wrapped around my slender waist. And I could feel his hot breath on my naked neck. All of these feelings sent shivers down my body and awoke some primitive feeling deep inside me, I think it was Lust. 

“Oh its you.” Lily said as she peered toward me, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a date or something?”  She said in a tone that was just a few decibels from a yell. I heard her well enough though. It still seemed she was a little pissed. 

“I do.” I said pointing toward Clay.

“So he's your rent-a-boyfriend for the evening?” Lily said as she peered toward me. 

“I have no idea. I had no idea you could rent a boyfriend for an evening. Then again is that how you get all your dates? If so, I bet your on their reward card program.” I said smirking as I reached down and picked up a yellow and white tennis ball. “Is it like those frequently  traveled miles the airlines give away? Only for every ten dates you rent out you get one free? And I bet they have different colored cards for different levels.”

At this point our little exchange had drawn the attention of the other girls who had already endured their shifts in the dunking booth or were waiting their turn. All seemed slightly amused that somebody was putting the girl sitting above three hundred or so gallons of freezing cold water through the mill. 

Lily said nothing, she only peered at me.

“For your information.!” She never got to finish that sentence. Because at that very moment I let my ball loose and by sheer luck it smacked into the center of the target, sending Lily down into the freezing water below!

“Girl!” Lily shouted as she climbed up out of the tank. “You were supposed to let me finish!” She growled as she climbed up and pushed the seat back. Once she was seated, I tossed my second ball, again my second ball smashed into the metal target, sending Lily dropping into the freezing water below. Her dress billowed and she forced herself to push it down as she climbed back up. She spat a stream of cold water out of her mouth and onto the ground in front of the tank. 

“I don't think I like you very much.” She said as she climbed up and took her seat again.  I dropped her a third time, and then I turned away. I mean I turned away from the dunking booth. And because I felt playful, I kissed Clay on the cheeks and much to my amusement he blushed and blinked and his ears turned a bright red. 

I then blew a kiss to Lily who was splashing around the tank. Shouting up a storm. It sounded like she was shouting a mixture of Gaelic, Irish and a bit of German at me. With some Spanish thrown in for color and taste. In short it was a string of nonsensical words that she had linked together. I just smiled and reached down and took Clay by the hand as I guided him away from the dunking booth.

“What was all that about?” He asked as he peered toward me. I could tell he was a bit confused by the scene that had just unfolded in front of him. 

“Handling my business. Come on honey, we're gonna set this town on fire tonight.” I dared another kiss on the cheeks. I felt like I had seen him before. I could have sworn I've seen him before. My mind brought back a memory of me and a boy that looked like Clay sitting on the sugar white sand of Orange Beach, my hair wet from the showers, and still smelling like tomato sauce, the warming, gentle, lustful feeling of his arms strong as bars of iron wrapped around my waist as he pulled me closer to him. The sound of the waves crashing down upon the sandy beach, and the cry of the gulls as they circled overhead.

“Something tells me I've seen you before.” I said, fighting down a blush as I led him away from the dunking booth.

“Same.” He said blushing he then laughed. 

To be finished in Chapter 5