It's inconceivable until it happens. But everything can change in a heartbeat.

I hardly ever do this. This is maybe the fourth time in my 20-plus years. I just couldn't take it any longer. I had secluded myself in my little bungalow far from town, doing contract coding. My only real contact was with the delivery folks, and even they usually left stuff at the door. My nearest neighbor was miles away, so I had plenty of privacy. I lived on the edge of nowhere. On the cusp of the grid. And that was the way I liked it.

I had no problem with the 'outside world' or the people in it. I had a problem with me. I had never been comfortable in my own skin, and I used to hide under it. 85 pounds overweight and obscured by a sea of frizzy hair and a beard that grew like kudzu, I'm sure I resembled two eyes buried inside a bristly dandelion. There was a definite 'mountain man' vibe when I interacted with the world. People kept their distance, and I was relieved.

But this time in public, I was utterly unrecognizable. I had become so sick of the self-loathing that I decided I must do something. Suicide was one option. That would stop the pain. I knew there was another option.... a real long shot... one that I'd avoided all my life. I decided to take the hard road, knowing that if things didn't work out, ending it all would always remain an option.

Thanks to the internet, everything I needed was at my fingertips and I didn't need to explain myself to anyone. With my slowly growing self respect, losing the weight and getting in shape was surprisingly fast and less difficult than expected.

I liked becoming who I finally decided to be and it was a joy seeing all the work pay off. The beard was gone, the hair was trimmed and in a ponytail. I always ate healthy and had good skin. Growing up I was often told with barely hidden scorn, that I had inherited my mom's features. The countless online makeup tutorials were profoundly helpful and my skills had become adequate. Some brutally effective body shapers rounded out my hips and behind, conveniently cramming away the troublesome bits, while cinching my middle and supplying an adequate imitation of what nature had neglected up top.

I put on my peg leg jeans, low heel leather boots, a crew neck top and suede bomber jacket. I deliberately dialed down the femininity. I didn't want to look like a cross dresser going to a DAR meeting in my wool skirtsuit and pearls. I wanted to look like an ordinary woman, in sensible but stylish clothing, going out for errands and to get her hair done.

When I drove into town, I didn't expect anyone to recognize me as the burly mountain man. That was 80 lbs and an acre of facial hair ago. I did worry that I'd still look like a dude in ladies clothes, so I was really quite stressed. Especially at the prospect of walking into the hair salon.

I needn't have worried. If they did clock me as a male, they didn't let on, and were happy to sit me down and take my money. It was the best money I'd ever spent.

I tried my best to wrestle my unruly hair into a ponytail before visiting them. I didn't want to trim or do anything to it, because I wanted them to have the most raw material to work with.

While initially a bit shocked when they saw what they had to work with, they quickly got it washed, rinsed and detangled and came to share my view that all that now-lustrous hair gave them much more styling latitude. They cut and styled it, and I immediately embraced their suggestion to do something with the coloring. A deep bronze with foil highlights made me feel a bit like Jessica Rabbit.

They were nearly as stunned with the outcome as I was. I tipped them so generously, I think I became legend. If not for the mousey tomboy they turned into a stunning diva, then for my 100% gratuity.

They strongly suggested I go next door to their affiliated salon for a mani-pedi. I was reveling in the moment, so I jumped at the suggestion. My 'girls day out' was going far better than I dared hope. I had initially dreaded it, but the further I went down the rabbit hole, the more confident and believable I felt - and the less I worried about being read.

Then it all went to shit.

I had spent a few carefree hours shopping for shoes and clothes, getting some really helpful makeup advice and another bag full of cosmetics & fragrance. I was looking and feeling more like who I was really meant to be after each stop & mini-makeover on my shopping spree.

Waiting to cross a busy street, a van blocked the crosswalk when suddenly I was grabbed from behind by a couple of big guys in hardhats and sunglasses wearing utility worker coveralls.

They threw me headfirst into the van where the doors shut behind me, and a someone threw a sack over my head, cinching it tightly at the neck and plunging me into darkness. I was immediately groped by a sea of hands. I thought was this some twisted trans-bashing cult? Am I about to get the living shit kicked out of me – or worse? They yanked my arms behind my back and ziptied my wrists and ankles, then bound them to each other. I had been hogtied with zipties. It was still pitch dark, so I couldn't see how many there were. We got tossed around as the van sped to its destination. I instantly knew I'd better keep my voice as feminine as possible because a masculine voice could only make things worse. “What the FU...” I started to say when someone wrenched my head back and lifted the hood enough to slap duct tape across my mouth.

“Tell renops we got her.” someone said to the panel separating us from the front seat.

“Copy that.”

“Yeah... we got her GOOD” another chuckled. As he forced the burlap hood back down and tightened the collar around my neck.

“You didn't think you'd evade us forever did you? You of all people should know our eyes are everywhere.”

“Who are you and why would I even want to evade you? I was just walking down the street minding my own....”

“Cut the shit Eve. Do you think we're stupid? You elites think you're so much smarter than the rest of us”

“How do you know my name? Elites? What do you mean 'elites'?”

“All you computer types with your fancy college degrees, decadent morals and wiseass attitudes looking down on the rest of us.”

“You have me tied to a chair, I have no idea where I am or even who the hell YOU are, you hold all the cards in this situation.”

“Damn straight”

“So why are you so neurotic?”

He had been pacing like a tense animal, his hands clenched into fists like he wanted to strike out at something, but that was when he completely lost it.

“I'll have you know you arrogant bitch, that I went to college too!” He bellowed, pressing his nose against mine and covering my face with his spittle. “Ever heard of Quantico?”

I raised an eyebrow and looked him straight in the eye, I couldn't imagine this volatile man cutting it in the FBI. “You graduated Quantico?” At which point his face turned so red I thought his head was about to explode... which I took as my answer. He said 'went', not 'graduated'.

He turned his back to me and addressed his minions with menacing calm. “Get. That. CUNT. Out of here.”

“Hey!” I said, my indigence suddenly overriding my fear. “I don't need to take that kind of abuse!”

Suddenly his fury was replaced by something much much darker... malevolent humor, as he turned back to me with the most chilling smile I'd ever seen.

“Yes. Yes you do. Lady, you don't know the meaning of abuse. But you're about to get a graduate course.”

“Don't I get a phone call and a lawyer?”

This question truly caught him by surprise and he laughed with unexpected delight.

“Who the christ do you think we ARE? The fuckin' COPS?” At that he motioned with his hands and his two goons dragged me off.

OK. It wasn't the police, or the FBI, but there was something cop-like about them. Maybe more like the Gestapo or other old school secret police. They photographed and fingerprinted me like real police, then they held me down while they swabbed my cheek for a DNA sample. They then took me to my 'hole' a 3 by 3 concrete room with a very crude sink/toilet contraption in one corner and a ccd camera embedded in the ceiling. They forced me to strip but let me keep my underwear. Fortunately, I was well tucked and had covered my silicone breasts with makeup to better blend into my own chest. They hadn't realized I wasn't actually female. But it was inevitable. And I knew with these goons, it could only make things worse.

I don't know how long I was in the hole. There was no light, so I had to grope around to find and use the toilet-thingy which would have been foreign enough had I actually been able to see it. I was sure the ccd camera was infrared capable and that my captors could see everything at all times. I took great pains to conceal my secret for as long as possible while trying to sort out who these people were, and who they thought I was. I was not wearing well. I could already feel slight beard growth and knew it was just a matter of time.

“LADY Eve!” the voice boomed from somewhere in my tiny cube. I raised my head.”Time for a chat”. I guess they ran my prints. I was made. The lights came back on and two goons hauled me out again. I was marched back to another interrogation room, this one seemed more like a walk in refrigerator, with a large metal door and some kind of thickly insulated metallic walls. My tormentor was back. Pacing like a pleased predator deciding just how he was going to strike.

“Yves Guillaume Derosiers 21. Born St Albans VT to Marie and Laurent Derosiers. Only child. Parents deceased. CS degree RPI, abandoned graduate studies and disappeared 2 years ago. Actually all of this fits the profile we already had worked up on you.... except for this.” He pointed to a blow up of my drivers license with the M circled repeatedly in red sharpie.

“See? I told you you had it all wrong.”

“You were right. We never took your boyfriend for a fag.” he smiled “his LADY Eve was a dude all along”

“I still have no idea what you're talking about. OK. You caught me. I'm a crossdresser. But you know everything about me, I quit school because I got too many good offers to do lucrative contract coding. I figured I could go back to school later and be better able to afford grad studies. I'm sure you've run my tax returns and know this. So I'm not who you think I am.”

“Well, we didn't know you were a male. That was a surprise, but everything else still fits the profile. Of course you would forge a solid cover while you were collaborating with your terrorist boyfriend.”

“Terrorist boyfriend?”

“Don't play dumb with me bitch.... I, um, mean buddy.”

I don't know why, but I took the fact that he still had a hard time addressing me as male as a small victory.

“I really don't know who you're talking about. Just assume, that I'm not who you think I am and explain to me all the details that you think the real Lady Eve should already know. What leverage would you lose?”

He thought about it for a while.

“OK. We know you have been collaborating with Aaron Cohen in his repeated acts of treason and subversion of U.S. interests domestically and abroad”

“Who the hell is Aaron Cohen?” I sighed.

“I suppose that with you people, he might never have told you his real name.” He suddenly had a thought that made him laugh. “Hell, for all I know, somehow you managed to keep him from learning that you're a fucking guy!” His distant stare indicated that he was filing away that notion for later. “OK. Maybe your boyfriend never told you his real name and you only knew him by his hacker name..... 'R00tkid'”

“Holy shit. The grayhat who leaked the bank records of the payoffs to financial regulators?”

“We're going to get him back”

“What is this, the Federal Bureau of Revenge?”

“Look lady... er... just look... if you actually don't know who we are, it's because you're not cleared to know, so just shut the fuck up and keep it that way.”

“So you think I'm R00tkid's girlfriend?”

“Don't THINK”

“Got THAT right” I smiled.

“Shit. What if it really isn't his girlfriend?” one of the others said.

“The recognition engine made a 98% match. It almost never scores that high, even in tests”

“Yeah, well it told us to abduct a GUY.”

“Does that look like a guy to you?”

“Well, a little bit more now with the 5 O'Clock shadow”

“What if it isn't his girlfriend?”

“What if he isn't a fag?”

“The plan doesn't change. The recog says 98%. He'll run it and think we've got her. Then we'll have HIM”

“So, I'm BAIT?”

“This isn't going to work, he's looking more like a dude all the time.”

“Yeah... We're going to need outside help.”

They held me in the metal room they called the thermos, which I later surmised was some kind of super secure sound & vibration proof faraday cage. Apparently the 'outside help' they called was the black ops version of a style channel makeover team. I was waxed and preened, and when they were through, I looked better than I'd ever been able to do on my own. They also gave me a couple of jabs in the buttocks. When I asked, I was simply told this would help with the beard growth problem since they were too busy to attend to me daily. My tormentors also did a little work between my legs, securing things up inside and gluing the scrotum skin into something that really did resemble a labia. They arranged things so I could still pee, but due to the geometry, I would have to squat and wipe. I just shrugged, thinking I always struggled with the desire to be female, and here under these draconian circumstances, I had come closer than I'd ever dreamed. After my “makeover” my tormentor – who I heard someone call “Lynch” returned to inspect their work.

“Damn. You look good enough to fuck. ….If I were bent that way. I get what he sees in you.”

“You still think I'm his 'girlfriend'?”

“Doesn't really matter what we think. Doesn't matter whether you are or not. Only matters that HE thinks you're her, and that we've got you....which we certainly do”

“So I'm just bait?”

“Let's see if he takes it.”

...to be continued

It didn't take long for the darknet to buzz with news that the goons had grabbed 3V3.

Someone posted surveillance footage of the abduction and backtracked it to the nail salon, the hair stylist and other errands. The real surprise was that she was being so open, since she was usually so cautious and discreet, and there was a bit of surprise that she appeared in the Catskills, but then someone posited that it would be the last place anyone expected to look.

The Catskills... Aaron Cohen thought. Who was monitoring the grid in the godforsaken Catskills? He knew SIMon would easily expand to cover the entire surveillance grid, and no doubt, the goons had managed to implement full extensibility. He was a little surprised that another hacker had gotten the footage, presumably through SIMon. Well, he reflected, the Surveillance Intelligence MONitor I designed for the powers that be is not my baby anymore. It's out there working for others, my adversaries for sure, but others too. I can't believe it pegged 3V3.

He tapped into the SIMon stat system and ran the logs. Holy crap. 98% make? That's incredible. 'I can't reliably get a 96% make on myself two days in a row', he thought.

Then he stopped thinking about the obvious flaw in the recog engine that could generate such a strong false positive and rewatched the footage, the raw data being much higher resolution than what was posted on the darknet. Others may have cracked into SIMon, but he could still play it like a virtuoso.

The footage was incredible. This girl was a dead ringer for 3V3. No wonder SIMon 'made' her. And no wonder the goon squad snatched her as soon as she was made.

That poor girl. She has no idea what deep dung she's fallen into.

Aaron didn't have to look too hard to find the ransom notes. The encryption was laughably poor. Presumably they wanted everyone to crack it, so the whole community knew the goons were holding R00tkid's girlfriend and were going to smoke him out ...or any other unwitting scriptkiddie who took the bait.

Then he wondered, did they deliberately use bad encryption or were they just more incompetent than even he thought. No matter. The effect was the same. The battle lines were drawn and armies and alliances were coalescing. The Helen of Troy scenario was running and there was no stopping it.

To be continued...

The sparring had begun. R00tkid posted an 'open letter' to the community - using a stronger encryption key - explaining that the whole 3V3 thing was a setup and the goons were setting a trap in their own clumsy way.

He urged everyone not to fall for it. As proof, he posted a vid of himself and Lady 3V3 together reading his statement, with the hi-rez surveillance vid and cable news running in background monitors as a timestamp. They both explained that she was safe and where she had always been, and that this was just a trap by the goons.

Then the discussion turned to whether they actually had a prisoner or had managed to synthesize the likeness of Lady 3V3 for their 'leaked' surveillance footage.

“I know these guys.” R00tkid posted “They're not that good.”

Everyone quickly agreed. Adding that no one was.

'Almost no one' thought R00tkid as Lady3V3 left his side and walked off camera. He discreetly terminated the overlay and concentrated on the remainder of the videoconference.

“OK. They can't fake this. But the REAL Lady 3V3 is still with R00tkid. So they must have someone. I wonder if she has any idea what's happening to her.”

“Doubtful.” R00tkid replied. “These guys don't explain themselves like a Bond villain.”

“So what do we do? She may not be Lady 3V3, but they still have her. And we have to save her. Anyway, she's really hot!” Everyone eagerly echoed their agreement on that.

“We do nothing for now. They won't hurt her. She's of no use to them damaged... she will just have to marinate until we come up with a plan. If we go off impulsively without a plan we're no better than they are. And we MUST be better – much better – if we want to succeed.” No one was happy to wait, but neither was anyone able to make a compelling argument for a better plan of action, so the troops gathered in wait.

“What the hell is IN those shots you keep giving me?” I asked the guard as he dragged me out for another series of injections. He just shrugged. Curiosity was not in his job description. I imagine it would be considered a grave liability. “Well, could you ask? ...for me?” I really began to worry if they were some sort of psychotropic, because I was gradually feeling much edgier and raw. I had been able to tough out the first few days, but as time went on, I would find myself overwhelmed with despair and loneliness. I was becoming very emotionally fragile. I was never very emotional, but that had changed, and these were the most vivid, overwhelming emotions I'd experienced. I seriously thought the only way to escape my situation was to kill myself, but my captors took away every means to achieve even that goal. I was bereft and inconsolable. Which seemed to really please my captors. I knew they were constantly watching me on the security cameras. I wondered if anyone else was watching too.

The live feed from the pen had become a permanent window in Aaron's display. SIMon's internal diagnostics were just as capable of monitoring the secure intranet as it was the public grid. They must have known that because they kept her in camera sight nearly all the time. He had no doubt she was not a clone of HIS Eve. She was not a sim. He was watching a flesh and blood human. And it caused him increasing distress to witness her emotional unraveling.

I had lost all concept of time. There was no day or night, so consequently there were no days or weeks or maybe even months. There was me in my box, and the occasional 'hygiene breaks' which really meant time away from the unblinking eyes of the surveillance cameras. Hygiene really meant being put up against a wall and sprayed with ice water by a pressure hose, which took all of 5 minutes, then 20 minutes of 'debriefing' where they would always ask me the same senseless questions that I couldn't answer. Then 5 more minutes of being restrained and subjected to another series of injections and blood drawing. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it, yet after long enough it became a familiar ritual, and as the only ritual left in my now unanchored existence, became a singular source of perverse comfort.

During one of our pointless 'debriefs' I momentarily gained the temerity – and lucidity – to ask what happened to my “real” life. I mentioned that even though I was not close to anyone, at some point, someone would notice that I was missing, and that they had better seriously consider this. The nameless man who always asked me the same pointless questions broke from his routine long enough to write down some notes. Maybe my questions got his attention. Maybe he was forwarding them to someone and I began to hope against hope that someday I would get an answer. I never dared hope for them to let me go, but I was so despondent that even the most terse answer to my most simple question would have been like crumbs of bread to a starving man.

I think it was 2 or 3 times after I'd conjured up the courage to ask my rhetorical questions, when I finally got my answer. My regular interrogator was joined by agent Lynch, who thanked me for pointing out a loose end. He informed me that my cabin had been raided very conspicuously by an anti-terrorist SWAT team, who proceeded to blow up my home and burn the ruins to a charred pit. They then let it be known to all my neighbors and local authorities that I had suicidally detonated all the explosives I was making when my terror campaign to outdo the unabomber was thwarted by the SWAT raid. They also claimed that I was funding my terror by cooking meth, and it was the presence of all the toxic drug-making chemicals that forced them to quarantine an acre in every direction and post guards to keep nosy locals away “for their own safety”.

Lynch was quite pleased to inform me that my “real” life was gone, and thanks to my convincingly staged suicide, Yves Derosiers was now dead - officially, as well as virtually. With that he nodded to the two guards who dragged me off for my forced injections. Only this time the injections were different, as I felt consciousness quickly falling away, I thought “it is done. They are finally free to kill me.”

I always was an optimist.

Aaron was getting worried. 'Actual EVE' – he had started thinking of her as that, to differentiate from his own 'Virtual 3V3' had disappeared from the scans on schedule for the 30 minute shower period, but this time she failed to return. With a mix of curiosity and alarm, he searched the logs of the holding facility referred to as 'the basement' and often pronounced 'debasement' by The Enterprise – the rogue black ops organization, ...and his ex-employer.

They didn't see it that way when he unilaterally severed his contract. Had they realized how good he really was, they never would have hired him. They probably would have killed him so that no one could hire him.

He designed all their systems of surveillance and control. He knew better than anyone how powerful they were, and when he saw how his tools were being used – most sane people would say abused – he walked away and went underground.

Of course it wasn't as simple as it sounds, and he never sought revenge. No point in aggravating such a powerful enemy. His intention was merely to rebalance the ecosystem.

It was only when they went after him that it became personal, and this hostage business took it to a whole new level.

He protected himself and those close to him skillfully and effectively. He never thought to protect the Lady 3V3 because she never actually existed anyway. She was untouchable.

He never dreamed that they would mistake an innocent stranger and use her as a pawn. Or deliberately use an innocent stranger as a pawn. They were that evil but they weren't that creative. He was nearly certain that they believed that this actually was his partner, and therefore there was nothing they wouldn't do to her to get to him.

Since he singlehandedly coded all their ops systems, getting back in was not an issue. He had never been out.

The times they brought teams of contractors in to replace pieces of his code, the system spiraled into cascade failures. No doubt they told themselves that he had trip-wired the system to fail at interference. In truth, his code was just so lean and delicately balanced, that when a chunk of it was replaced by clumsy bloated contractor code, the fragile dependencies of his macrosystem quickly collapsed and collateral failures spread like shockwaves.

They had no choice but to keep his original system intact until they came up with a complete rewrite of the entire system, which he reckoned would take decades, years if they got AI assistance, and require hardware many orders of magnitude beyond their already vast – yet insanely efficient and codependent massively parallel network mesh. He never messed with their net. He was loath to deface his own work, Anyway, he didn't want to harm it. He just wanted to continue to use it. And since he understood its capabilities far better than those who hired him to build it, it was always far more useful to him than to the enemies who actually built it.

There was no clue in the system logs to explain the prolonged disappearance of Actual Eve. Scanning for anomalies, he did turn up requisitions for an atypical amount of med supplies including a lot of blood. Clearly the emergency surgery was in use, but unless there was a firefight and heavy casualties, that would never register an anomaly on a logscan. He searched for any instance of casualties and only came across one line. Prisoner remanded medsurg post incident.

The prisoner had to be Eve. But what incident? There were a lot of surgical supplies used, and the power monitors showed the surgery in use for over 8 hours. Personnel lists showed 18 med tech and related outside staff temporarily on premises. Something had happened. But until she got back on the grid – or god-forbid on the morgue log, he could only speculate.

I don't know how long I struggled to wake up, it seemed like a long time I tried to organize my thoughts. Who was I? Where was I? What was going on? Finally, slowly, things began to come into focus. And I instantly regretted my returning awareness. I tried to howl from the pain but all that came out was a hoarse rasp. I tried to writhe from the agony, but I felt as if I had been sewn down.

“Hey, she's coming to.” said a voice from somewhere.

“Isn't it too early?” said another.

“Fuck it. What's she gonna do about it?” said someone. A handful of voices laughed.

True. What could I do about it? I closed my eyes and tried to die.

Eventually I managed to at least pass out from the pain.

When the group escorting ...no, this time they were literally dragging Eve to her pen appeared on survnet, the motion detector bots woke Aaron immediately.

He quickly wondered why the Motion monitor triggered but the recog bot didn't.

Then he saw her.

She lay in the corner of her pen, propped like a ragdoll placed to face the camera.

The slits in her swollen face completely obscured her eyes, her face was so bruised and bloated he couldn't tell if she was conscious. Looking at her mangled bandaged body, he prayed that she wasn't.

What the hell had happened? What had they done to her?

Had she tried suicide? If they wanted her dead, she would be dead. They must have wanted her alive, but she had other plans.

She looked like she had been hit by a bus. She was bandaged like a mummy from her neck to her knees. The way her limbs splayed, he wondered if they were all broken. One thing was certain, none of them had been set. It was as if they had completely removed the bones from her limbs, leaving her limp as a ragdoll. Again, he would not put that past them, but he didn't really think they had, simply because they weren't that creative.

His heart ached for this poor girl. Still, there was nothing he could do at the moment, so he increased the sensitivity on the motion alarm, and returned to bed and a nightmare wracked sleep.

“You look like shit” Lynch laughed as he stuck his head into my tiny cell. I tried to turn my head toward him and failed. Any movement was excruciating. It even hurt to blink. Finally, I was able to muster the energy to get out one, whispered syllable,

“why?”

“....because we can.” the bastard laughed. “Get up, bitch.”

I still didn't move. I couldn't.

“I said get UP!” he motioned to the guards who stood to each side of me as I remained curled in the corner. “Kidneys and thighs only. Don't want to damage our fine work.” Then they began their kicks interlaced with screams of “UP!”

After about 5 minutes of this, they either realized this was not working or they just got bored. One of them reached down and grabbing a large rope of my hair, yanked me off the ground. As soon as he let go, I collapsed onto his feet.

“Oh Christ. This is pointless” he muttered as he again grabbed my hair and dragged my limp body from my cell.

Aaron watched this all as he fed the live videostream out to the others in the hangout.

Their gasps and sobs only reminded him how hard he himself had become in dealing with these guys. He was neither surprised or appalled. He had come to expect exactly this sort of thing from his old employers.

Once she disappeared off camera, dragged to the unmonitored interrogation wing, he addressed his colleagues.

“It's not clear that she is in any shape to travel.”

Many nods as people fought to regain control of their emotions.

“But it is clear that she can not stay any longer where she is. So we must act soon. Acting puts her at risk, but not acting guarantees that her fate will be worse.”

And with that, the plan was hatched.

The team began removing the bandages and changing the dressings. One of them gave me a shot of morphine before being yelled at by one of the guards. Apparently this medical team was not part of my captor's sadistic group, because they kept treating me with human compassion until yelled at not to.

Turns out that my 'injuries' were actually surgeries. Since they destroyed my real life, I no longer officially existed, and they decided they would do anything they wanted with me.

What they decided they wanted was to actually, surgically turn me into they hostage they originally wanted.

After years of crossdressing and wondering what life would be like had I been born female. These psychotic animals had surgically transformed me into their Lady Eve. They also laced scars up and down my limbs and neck to resemble suicide attempts. 'Sweetening the bait' they called it.

After years of longing and dreaming, I had perversely achieved my hearts desire under the most sadistic dehumanizing circumstances. I managed a bitter laugh through the pain.

It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered. The battered soul inside was irrelevant to my captors. All that mattered was the shell. I was just a piece of bait, and if I stood any chance to survive this – which I doubted – or however long I managed to endure, the best thing I could do for myself was to try to disassociate from the physical world as much as possible. Catatonia may not have been achievable, but it was the only goal I could imagine, so I tried with my entire being.

The medical team replaced the dressings, examined the healing tissue, repacked everything and sent me back to my box. This repeated 3 or four time over what must have been several days. I had become an inanimate object, and eventually the guards stopped physically assaulting me to obey their commands. I think they just got tired of wasting their time. I was dragged around by the hair like a toddler's doll. I registered all this, but none of it mattered. I was slowly learning to tune out anything happening in the physical world.

Aaron had fed the security feed to the darknet, so when the next phase started, the outrage from the net was nearly as quick as his motion detectors to alert him of this latest change. The bandages had been removed and Eve's scarred and battered body was splayed naked before the camera displaying all the sutures and bruises. No doubt her captors wanted to show off their handiwork, so she was no longer even permitted underwear. It didn't seem to matter to her. Her eyes remained as lifeless as they had been since her injuries. He wondered if they had lobotomized her, but could see no evidence of cranial scarring.

Maybe it was an extreme defense mechanism, he wondered. If so, it was the only defense possible. When the guards gathered and began the gangrape, Aaron threw his careful plan out the window, and activated the detention wing's fire suppression system.

As the doors autolatched and the speakers blared their automatic halon warnings, Bill Lynch watching from the surveillance hub chuckled to himself. “Now we've got you, you little prick.”

Modesty was never one of Lynch's shortcomings. His absolute confidence in his ability – however misguided – had gotten him far in government service, especially dealing with superiors who knew less than he did and mistook confidence for ability. R00tkid and his “rogue army” had no such misconception. They counted on Lynch's clueless hubris for their plan to succeed. And as always, he more than met their expectations.

The guards quickly left the detention wing for the emergency exits at the halon alarm. If they thought about it, they would know the likelihood of fire just as they were about to begin their gangrape for the security camera was next to impossible, and was just a ploy to distract them. But they weren't paid to think. In fact, years of training had conditioned them to not think and simply, blindly, follow orders. And their training was, at the halon alarm they had less than 30 seconds to get to safety before all breathable air would be replaced with toxic fire suppressant gas.

In just under 20 seconds, the detention wing was deserted. Except for the one detainee. Still slumped like a ragdoll in her cell.

Lynch quickly ordered the guards to fortify the perimeter of the detention unit, knowing they would be coming for her soon. He also monitored the facility entrance, wondering how they were planning to storm that.

Nikolai Yeshenko never imagined himself as a ninja. He was a nerd. Far more comfortable decompiling an algorithm than slogging through utility tunnels like some hollywood action hero. Still, he was probably the most fit of the group, and with his childhood filled with martial arts lessons, school sports, and ballet training his mom insisted were as grueling athletics as any of the sports his dad insisted upon to get him away from his computer, he had a diverse and oddly suitable skillset for this mission. But he knew they really chose him because he was crazy enough to do it and succeed.

R00tkid had him and his team holed up in a motel near the facility while they devised a plan. When the GO came, it seemed a little frantic. He didn't know what had changed, but that just raised the stakes and made it more of a rush. He felt like he had just been bonused a level, and knew the adrenaline rush would raise him to the challenge.

Lynch and his team scoured the monitors, waiting for the strike. But everything was normal. “We're dealing with a bunch of punks, not trained commandos. It may take them time to get their assault on.”

“Maybe they're waiting for a bus” someone said. Everyone laughed.

“It took us weeks to set this trap. I'm not going to fuck it up now by being impatient.” Lynch bellowed to the team. That shut them up.

Aaron wondered if they would notice that the live surveillance footage was suddenly replaced by playback from the loggers. If he had time to do it right, he would make sure that each camera showed the same combination of personnel from the last time they all worked the same shift, but there had been no time. He had to count on them not noticing. He needn't have worried. When he signaled his gopher team to begin their final move, he fed his stream into the surveillance hub. Suddenly everyone noticed as the internal monitors switched to outside feeds from dozens of surveillance cameras around the country.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Holy shit. That's my parent's house” exclaimed one guard as on the monitor the SWAT team surrounded it readying their assault.

“Where's that?” asked another.

“My ex wife's house” Lynch laughed. As the terrified woman and 4 screaming children were carried from the house by another SWAT team.

“Your kids?” someone asked.

“I only have HER word for that” Lynch sneered. “OK. That little prick has gone too far. Lock us down.”

“No response.”

“Call the gate guard.”

“No response.”

“What the fuck? He's just sitting there!”

“Wait, Cooper's on post. I saw him when I checked in. That's... is that Braden?”

“It's a fucking playback! How long?”

“No idea”

“Sound the general alarm”

“No response”

“Fuck.” Lynch darted over to a handscanner on a wallplate and a weapons locker opened. “Grab a piece and come with me”. The door was locked, but he expected that and keyed in the override. As soon as they began to open it, the Halon gas began to pour in.

“Fuck! Shut it!” He scowled and paced it. “I told you to disable the Fire Suppression” he screamed at a tech.

“I did.” He was meek but adamant. “It must have been reenabled ….and triggered”

“No SHIT!” Lynch spluttered.

It was masks on and into the breach as Niko and his two companions undid the service panel that led into the facility. The Halon cloud was so thick, they couldn't see a thing. But R00tkid was watching everything through the surveillance systems and he caught the three heat sigs the moment they left the service duct. “To your right and 30 meters. I'll have the door unlocked by the time you reach it. And he was as good as his word. Each door opened at their request until they were deep inside the detention compound. When the cell door finally opened and Niko saw the limp figure he had become so obsessed with on his monitor, he was momentarily overwhelmed. He looked for a flash of recognition in her blank unfocussed gaze. He imagined he saw one, even though he would later admit it was probably his imagination. He wanted her to realize that her deliverance was at hand. Acting as if she had acknowledged his entrance to her cell, he flipped up his mask and grinned stupidly.

“I'm Luke Skywalker and I'm here to rescue you! …..I've always wanted to say that!” He searched for some response on her blank, bruised face, but saw none. His disappointment was shortlived.

“Stop screwing around and GO!” R00tkid yelled through his earpiece.

Back on mission, Niko took a mask from Lisa, his number two, and placed it over Eve's head. He picked up her limp body and draped it over his shoulder.

“Christ. She weighs nothing! Jesus... IS she just a fucking doll?” He poked at one of the scars to see if it felt real, and heard her let out a little groan. He blushed, allowed himself a nanosecond of remorse and then got them the hell out of there.

I had hoped I'd never wake up again. And for a while I thought I was getting there. Things became more distant and unreal and it was a relief. But now I felt the fog lifting as I slowly slid toward consciousness. The more I tried to resist, the quicker I became lucid. So I just relaxed back and waited for the wave of pain.

And I waited.

I finally began to entertain the notion that for once, the pain was not going to come. Which is when I expected to be overwhelmed by it. Still nothing.

I finally realized that I must be awake by now. But I felt no pain. In fact I didn't feel anything. Or see or hear anything. No. I heard my heartbeat and blood coursing through my veins. But I couldn't see anything. As I lifted up my arm with considerable difficulty – had I really become that frail? - I felt for my body. I was here. And seemingly full of needles and tubes. What the hell were my tormentors up to now? After what seemed like ages, I heard a stirring outside my....wherever I was... and a lid slowly opened above me. A sea of faces were silhouetted against the blinding light, as I heard one of them say “Welcome. To the REAL world.”

Another elbowed him and he let out a yelp. “Quit with the movie quotes. This is serious!” she said. “I'm Lisa. You're safe now. This is Niko. And Jose."

“We rescued you!” said the younger voice.... Jose?

“No. We just got you out.” Lisa said. “HE rescued you!” and the three faces pulled back to reveal a fourth silhouette leaning over my...wherever I was.

“Jesus Christ!” he muttered quietly... as if to himself. Then he quickly regained his composure, and as I tried to focus my eyes, I saw his warm smile. “Hi. I'm Aaron.... I didn't rescue you. I got you into this mess.”

“R00tkid” I managed to hoarsely whisper. He smiled sadly and nodded.

“And you, it would seem... are the REAL Lady Eve.”

I tired easily and they were very lenient with me, letting me rest after every exhausting conversation. I'm sure none lasted a whole five minutes. Over time I learned that I was in a saline suspension tank which they felt would speed my healing and avoid any jarring sensory stimulation. It felt like being in a big old womb, and I welcomed it. I felt like I had been in there for weeks, but apparently it was only days.

I had a brief conversation with Lisa, who it seems in her 'real' life was some sort of hotshot medical researcher. She expressed some concern over my bloodwork and asked when I was expecting my next period. I laughed bitterly and told her that wasn't going to be an issue. She took a good look at my scars and asked if my captors did that to me. I replied with a feeble smile that I hoped I'd look good on the application papers to adopt, because that was the only way I was going to be a parent now. She went pale and shuddered, and said she'd add hormonal supplements to the other therapeutics they were pumping into me.

I was getting I.V. drips of all sorts of things... nutritional supplements, painkillers, anti-inflammatories and, I was told, some mild psychotropics.

I probably should have been alarmed, but after what I had been through at the hands of my last captors, I felt protected and coddled. I was surprised to find that I was actually feeling a little more human each day. My previous experience began feeling like a terrible nightmare, fading as I progressed toward wakefulness.

I was told that this was the psychotropics. Apparently my new protectors knew as much about assuaging trauma as my previous captors knew about inflicting it. It was probably the drugs, but these people made me feel more than protected. I felt cherished.

I got out of the tank after about 10 days and gingerly rejoined the human race. Lisa loaned me some yoga pants and a cami, and generously donated some brand new underwear. “We can send someone for your old stuff. Just tell us where to get it.”

I explained how my previous captors, beginning to wonder if they had abducted the wrong person, covered their tracks by destroying my home and faking my own death, disguising it as a terrorist suicide bombing. Everyone seemed shocked by this – except R00rkid.

“I will admit I am surprised. But not by their ruthlessness... only that they were clever enough to cover their tracks.”

“I may have said something that gave them the idea” I admitted sheepishly. He smiled sadly and nodded.

“Well. You can't go home. You don't even have a life to go back to. What now?”

“I'm too emotionally exhausted to be vengeful. But these people can't be allowed to go on doing these things. They must be stopped. I'd like to help.”

R00tkid smiled. “Welcome to my world. I know exactly how you feel. And welcome to our team.”

“So how can I help?”

“I'm sure there will be many ways as we get to know you and learn about your skills and talents, but for now, I'd like you to do one major thing.”

“What?”

“For the moment. Could I ask you.... would you permit.... um, I need you to... no I'd LIKE you to...”

“Would you just come out and SAY it?”

“Be Lady Eve?”

That was the last thing I was expecting to hear.

“You want ME.... to be Lady Eve?” He nodded.

“I'd like you to meet my crew. Some people. My associates. Maybe attend some events together. Give interviews together to trusted bloggers?”

“As some sort of distraction? As some kind of decoy or ringer?”

He shook his head. “No ringer.”

“What about the REAL Lady Eve? How will SHE feel about this?”

He smiled guiltily and cast his eyes down to the floor. He fished a thumbdrive out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Ask her yourself.”

“O.K.” R00tkid said sheepishly. “Now you have me. You know my darkest secret. Something no one.... I mean NO ONE else knows.”

“There IS no Lady Eve? - There never WAS??”

“Well. There IS.... she's just.....”

“Virtual.”

He blushed.

“There were a lot of reasons behind it. It started out as an exercise in scaling the uncanny valley.... which is..”

“In my former life I was a programmer and an avid gamer. I get it. But you actually DID it? She was that believable?”

“You be the judge.” he said, taking the flashdrive and plugging it into his dock. Suddenly I was looking at my own reflection.... without all the scars.

“Christ....”

“Yeah.” R00tkid blushed again. “It's no wonder they picked you up as soon as they saw you on the grid.”

“So you knew all along I wasn't real... since there is no Lady Eve.”

“On the contrary. I knew you WERE real. Which is why their little stunt worked and they smoked me out. One of the many points behind the enigmatic, reclusive, stunningly beautiful Lady Eve being virtual is that I could finally have a public partner that I wouldn't endanger. They couldn't use her to get to me because there actually WAS no “her”. I was feeling pretty smug. I made a sim that totally fooled my adversaries – which admittedly is not that hard and nothing to brag about, but which also was believable to my colleagues and associates.... who are very, very hard to fool. None of them still know.”

“But no one got suspicious that they never MET Lady Eve?”

“Not until they helped me rescue you” he smiled.

“So these goons abducting me, supplied you with a real Lady Eve.”

“I had never imagined such a scenario. In fact, when I designed Eve I vetted her against a copious image base to filter out accidental false positives. You never showed up anywhere. And my database isn't just culled from public image bases but from a store of surveillance data you can't imagine. It's like you suddenly appeared out of ….”

“...Out of the ether?” I smiled sadly. He nodded.

“Well, I didn't always look like this. You see, I have a dark secret too.”

I explained everything to R00tkid. And for the first time since I met him, I saw genuine surprise on his face.

“I can't believe it. You're actually a GUY?!?”

“Not anymore” I shook my head sadly. “Thanks to your brutal friends. Once they destroyed my old life, they felt free to do whatever they wanted. And this is what they did.” I said passing my hand up and down my bruised, scarred, but completely female body.

“But why?”

“I think they were confused. They were beginning to doubt that I was really who they wanted to abduct, so they made me into her.”

“I thought I was hardened enough that nothing they did could surprise me. I was wrong. Oh my God. I'm SO sorry.”

“For what? You did nothing. This was all them. Yes, it was a tragic coincidence that I resembled your virtual ...girlfriend”

R00tkid went crimson

“...but what happened to me was all at their hands. Your only involvement was stepping in and saving my life.” I began to tear up.

“But I'm responsible for stealing your life ….your....manhood”

“Nonsense!” I stopped sniffling. Sentiment being washed away by indignation. “Those bastards stole my life. And my.... “

“manhood”

I smiled sadly. “It's not like I was doing much with it anyway. Hell. There's a reason I was walking around town looking, as it turns out, like a dead ringer for Eve. I was never comfortable in my skin for as long as I could remember. When I was 3 I had no clue what gender identity was. While I couldn't conceive of the problem, I still knew there was a problem. Always was. I kept to myself, not wanting to lie to people any more than possible. I let them believe what they wanted, which was that I was an antisocial guy. I just kept to myself. Then one day, I decided life's too short. I have the money and the internet resources, it's time to explore the part of me I kept shut away because I didn't know what to do with it. I began to nurture it and feel the beginnings of a self-respect I never felt. I discovered other transgendered folks online and realized that while not just like everyone else, I was far from alone. I finally got enough self confidence to step out in public as the outer manifestation of the inner person.... and it all hit the fan.”

“So you actually always wanted to be a woman?”

“I actually always felt I had a feminine spirit ...a female soul. And I dared to think one day, somehow, I might bring the body to match the soul. ….But I sure as hell never imagined it would happen this way!”

“I'm still sorry I got you involved in all this.”

“Yeah. Well, what's done is done. Again, I don't blame you in any way. You were as much a victim of unexpected circumstance as I was.”

“But you're the one they tortured. You're they one they scarred.”

“Physically, yes. But I'm hopeful someday I can do something about the cosmetics. Mentally, I'm surprised at how it seems like something that happened to someone else. I expected to be much more traumatized by what I'd been through. But while I recall it all vividly, it's... an intellectual... dispassionate memory. There's no visceral emotion attached. I find that really odd. But not unwelcome.”

“Um. That may have been us.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You were in that tank for quite a few days. And while we set your bones and worked hard to heal your physical abuse, we also tackled the psychological abuse. We pumped you up with a lot of drugs”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, the DOD has some very covert research on antipsychotic drug regimes for troops repeatedly sent into the field. The aim is to erase symptoms of PTSD so they can send refreshed troops back into battle. It's pretty brutal, repairing the psyche just so you can send it back to be assaulted again. But we siphoned some of their research, and as a one-time salve for a brutal trauma, it worked far better than we had dared hope. You were near-catatonic when we found you.”

“I remember. The only option I could find was to detach into myself.”

“Right. So we had to treat all that mental scar tissue and heal the underlying trauma.”

“May I ask what you pumped me up with?”

R00tkid blushed again. “It sounds very ...Walter Bishop... he was the..”

“I'm familiar with 'Fringe'” I smiled, sensing what was coming.

Well, it was a mixture of sedatives, psychotropics, and a hefty dose of MDMA.

“Roofies, acid and E?”

“I wouldn't put it THAT way.... but in essence, yeah.” He smiled sheepishly.

“So much for my body as a temple” I smirked. “But I can't argue with the results. Thanks.” I leaned over and gave him a tight hug. Which made him very tense.

“OK. What's that all about? Are you freaked that I just thanked you for using me as a lab experiment? Or that I used to live as a boy?”

“I don't know. Maybe all of it. It's a lot to process.”

“We both have a lot to process. Would you have rescued me if you knew?”

He didn't hesitate. “Of course! I got you into this mess. I had to get you out.”

“OK. So what's the problem? You asked me to pretend to be Lady Eve. Since I have no life to go back to, I can do far more than pretend. If you'd like, I can join you in your quest to take down these bastards. After all, it really is my quest too now. No pretending about that.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You'd do that?”

“Where else am I going to go? I no longer exist in the 'real' world. But are you ready to retire your original Eve?”

He fingered the thumbdrive. “Well, she doesn't have to retire. We could tweak the algorithm to give her your scars.”

“Or you could help me get rid of mine.” I smiled.

“This will be easier for now” he smiled holding up the thumbdrive. “But we will work on the other part” he stopped and turned to me “Um... one other thing.... people think you're my....”

“Girlfriend. I get it. OK. THAT we can pretend.”

He let a relieved grin out and resumed walking away.

“So you think I'm hot?”

He turned to stare at me, blushing.

“I mean you could have made your Eve look like anything, but she looks exactly like me. So you think I'm hot.” I smiled. He went crimson.

“You know you're kinda cute too. When you blush.” Which he did. Again. Deeply. Then quickly scurried away.

“Shit. It WAS her! That sonofabitch. We had him by the balls and you let him get away.” Bill Lynch was addressing the troops at an all hands meeting at the compound.

The image of R00tkid and Lady 3V3 giving a live interview via Skype to Sky News filled the far wall of the briefing room.. They were going on about “shadowy pseudogovernmental forces” wrecking havoc with legitimate governments and organizations across the globe, leaking evidence of financial tampering, rogue 'revolutions' that were staged shadow coups, and showing surveillance footage of Eve's rendition and heavily edited scenes from her detention.

Lynch could tell by the scars, that this was indeed the prisoner they lost. He was apoplectic that their pawn had become his enemy's Joan of Arc, rallying the feuding factions of the other side against them. He berated his minions mercilessly, completely ignoring the fact that they strictly followed his flawed orders.

They took it unflinchingly, as trained. There was no risk of dissent here. This was his pack, and he was the undisputed alpha dog. They had to regain the upper hand, and he would make sure his people didn't rest until they did.

It felt like the post millennial underground railroad. Traveling across the country, and even across borders covertly. Meeting with hacker groups at flash meetups. When you're the one who designed the surveillance grid, you know best how to get around it.

My favorite meetup was the flashmob dance party in Greenwich Village's Washington Square. We handed out headbands and glowsticks to the crowd, each covered with flashing LEDs and many IR LEDs that gave everyone wearing one a 'halo' like a flashlight being aimed at the surveillance cameras. We held our meetup in public, surrounded by hundreds of dancing strangers in their headbands, unaware that they were our cover. After our brief meetup, the maker who designed the headbands keyed a sequence into her iPhone that made all the bands pulse in unison, which ignited the crowd to a joyous roar... Unaware that the pulses were spelling out “R00tkidFTW” into the surveillance cameras, followed by a sequence that forced a buffer overflow and caused the entire surveillance network to reboot. Harmless. But a reminder that we still pwned the grid.

I never had imagined how vast the darknet was. Or how revered Lady Eve was. I needed little coaching to play the part, and soon Aaron stopped even giving me pointers, often just complimenting me for an inspired improv.

Like the time when someone confronted me, asking why I had been so reclusive and now was in everyone's face. I replied that what I had endured was a brutal awakening that there was no safety in stealth, so I decided I had nothing left to lose by taking the opposite approach and becoming as mainstream as possible.

I conceded that I wasn't really a 'people person' and enjoyed my previous reclusiveness – which seemed to resonate with the crowd – but that I had to get over that and become more public because the threat was too big to hide. Only risking exposure by shining a light on these shadowy activities of our adversaries, could we demonstrate to decent, honest people across the planet how they were being manipulated to their own peril, by this pernicious evil.

It brought the crowd to their feet, and I finally began to believe I was making a positive contribution. I was beginning to feel like I wasn't entirely a faker.

Over time my old life began to feel like someone else's. It was as if I had read a biography, and could recall every event intellectually, but there was no emotional attachment. I don't know if it was a post-trauma defense, an effect of the 'healing' process and all the mood-altering drugs I'd been pumped with to prevent emotional scarring, or just the fact that who I now was and the world I now lived in was so profoundly different from everything that came before it, but I really felt that Yves Derosiers had died when they assaulted and destroyed my home and life. I still wasn't sure who I was, but it became more clear every day who I was not.

Aaron kept my 'Dark Secret' and I kept his. Any stumbles I had becoming Lady Eve were attributed to my well documented mistreatment and psychological torture. No one knew, that despite always wondering if I'd make more sense as a a female, the intricate details of being in the world AS a female, without the lifetime of preparation inherent to those born and raised female, was a bit daunting.

I eventually stopped consciously thinking “what would be the feminine way to do this” and just started trusting my instincts. My growing self confidence served me much better than any conscious attempt to “act female”. I realized that everyone had subtly different ideas of 'appropriate behavior' and that included femininity. I just needed to learn to be comfortable in my own skin, and own myself. The more comfort and self-confidence I showed, the less anyone questioned anything about my behavior. I can't say I became Lady Eve. Maybe Lady Eve became me. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. But eventually, I never questioned who I was. Neither did anyone else.

The 'girlfriend' thing proved awkward. It was pretty useful when I did get hit on, which actually happened a lot more than I'd have expected. I had no idea how much unwanted attention women had to fend off. Fortunately, I seemed to have a natural knack to derail or defuse amorous advances. A few other women commented on how effortlessly I'd managed to dissuade admirers without having to bruise their egos excessively. I smiled and dismissed it as a remedial task, since I was dealing with geeks who were predisposed to getting shot down. I assured them that dealing with Wall Street sharks, politicians or other alpha males who only heard the sound of their own voice, I would have to resort to the pepperspray like everyone else.

I bonded surprisingly fast with the other women in the grayhat community. We were a niche within a niche, and we watched out for each other. I will admit that not all the passes I fended off were from the guys. I was equally gracious in demurring from the ladies, claiming that, while flattered, I really couldn't see myself with anyone else, but if that ever changed, for them to know that they had made an indelible impression on me. So far, that worked every time.

As for the 'not seeing myself with anyone else' part, I never actually said Aaron and I were an item, but it was strongly implied.

It was my disingenuous way of keeping up appearances with R00tkid, who, being the only one to know my 'dark secret' obviously had as little amorous attraction to me as I did to him. Or so I thought.

One night in Portland after a local meetup, we were settling into a loft secured for us by one of the gathering's organizers. Since we were 'a couple' we often found ourselves sharing accommodations. It never bothered me, because Aaron had seen me at my absolute worst and knew all my secrets. Not to mention that whole 'saving my life' business.

I was completely comfortable around him and thought he felt the same about me. I guess if I had to describe it, I thought of our relation like maybe brother and sister – without the sibling rivalry. Or maybe old married couple without the years of pent up annoyance over idiosyncrasies. In other words, I felt we got along well, and were completely comfortable with each others company. Which was rare for two loners thrown together.

One thing I never felt was 'sexual tension'. Maybe I was just blind. Maybe he was just drunk. Undoubtedly we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally.

As I was getting undressed, ready for my ritual hot shower and preparation for bed, I felt his eyes on me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is?” he asked. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I tossed off one of my usual glib responses.

“Don't worry. I'll save you some hot water, and I'll leave the lotion by the shower” I laughed.

He didn't.

“I'm serious. Do you have ANY idea? I've known you for what, going on a year now? I remember when they brought you in, bruised and battered. I wasn't even sure if you would live. I wasn't sure you even wanted to.”

The lightness of our usual banter was gone. I was overcome by the seriousness of this conversation as well. “Neither was I” I admitted. “But you wouldn't let me die. You took extraordinary measures to bring me back. Then you gave me a ready to wear life, when I no longer had one of my own.”

“It fits you well” he smiled. “I never could have imagined how well”

I smiled. Uncomfortably. I was not sure where this was going, but it made me uneasy.

“Have you ever wondered where Lady 3V3 came from?” He asked, staring right through me. He tapped his index finger to his temple. “Right here.” Then he lowered his hand and started tapping his heart like a repentant Catholic. “And here.” He kept staring.

“I think you need to move much lower” I quipped. He laughed bitterly.

“Shit.” His expression was really pained. “You were my fantasy girl. I knew someone like me would never meet someone like you, even if you really did exist. So I made you.”

“That wasn't me.”

“That's what I kept telling myself. It was just an amazing coincidence. The goons never knew you weren't real, and thanks to their ignorance and brutality, they actually MADE you real.”

“You know who I really am.”

“I know who you were. Can you tell me in all honesty that that person is not dead?”

I lowered my eyes and stared at my painted toes. I shook my head. “But I am not her. I don't know WHO I am.”

“You are you.”

“Yes.”

“And who YOU are …. IS her.”

“No. That's just a convenient ruse.”

“I kept telling myself that. Well, actually, I..” he tapped his temple “kept telling...” he tapped his heart. “But I don't even believe it myself anymore. You are more Eve than 3V3 ever was. In so many more ways and more intricate detail than I could ever fabricate.”

“That's because I am real. Reality is full of intricate details.”

“Exactly. 3V3 had been my fantasy for years. And now you are more Eve than 3V3. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Confused?”

“There's an understatement.”

“Conflicted?”

“Not as much as you think. I know who you were. I know who 3V3 was – I programmed her. Both of them are gone. Replaced by you. And you are greater than the sum of both parts.”

“I never knew you felt this way.”

“Of course you didn't. I never told you. Until now.”

“I should have seen this coming. Should have picked up on it.”

“Don't start knocking your 'woman's intuition' “ You're very perceptive. But I'm a hell of a poker player.”

“Well, thank you for showing your hand. But you know I don't feel the same way.”

“I presumed as much. But I had to be honest. You already know my secrets.”

“As you know mine.”

“Now you know another. Look. I know this life... in that body... was kind of forced on you. But think about what you're going to do with it. Don't you ever get lonely?”

“You mean horny.”

“Same difference.”

“No. It's not.”

“Maybe it's a guy thing”

“No. They were always different things. Even when I was a guy.”

“I'm not sure you ever really were a guy”

I had no response to that.

“Look” I said lapsing into my stock turn down. Something I never dreamed I'd be using with Aaron. “I'm very flattered you think of me that way. But please know I don't feel the same way. If that ever changes, I promise you'll be the first to know. But don't dwell on it, because in all honesty I can't imagine the circumstances that would lead to that happening.”

“Had you ever imagined the circumstances that led you to where you are now?”

Again I had no response.

“I'm taking a shower. And I'm NOT leaving you any hot water. You need a COLD shower.” I smiled. I hoped my levity would defuse the situation. Still, as I headed for the shower, I wasn't sure it had.

The next morning Aaron was really quiet. I don't know if it was his terrible hangover or the aftermath of our too-candid-for-comfort conversation the night before. Maybe it was a bit of each. I kept trying to defuse the awkwardness by being more light and playful than usual. Only later did it occur to me that he might have thought I was taunting him.

Our relationship had changed. Up until now, it was light and airy, we enjoyed each others company and felt completely at ease together.

All that was gone. Replaced by tension. ….Sexual tension? I didn't know, but I sure hoped not. I never thought of him that way. Then again, I never thought of anyone that way. Not even in my old life.

I began to question myself. Was I some kind of freak born with no libido whatsoever? What kind of life would that be? A lonely one, for sure. Could I fake it? It sure seemed easier to do so now than it would have been before. Maybe I could do it, but would I want to? That seemed so unfair to whoever I faked it with. I couldn't ...no, wouldn't con someone into thinking I had feelings for them just to keep from being alone.

It hit me that I had never even thought about this in my old life. I guess at that point I was so desperate to get away from my own company that I never thought of bringing someone else into it. While Aaron was busy avoiding me, I spent a lot of time in introspection. I had always felt I made more sense as a woman. Isn't part of that becoming engaged with the world and letting others in? Figuratively and literally? I had a lot to sort out, and decided I'd squandered too much time already.

I tried to think of Aaron that way. He wasn't a bad looking guy. He kept himself in exceptional shape for someone who spent much of his time indoors in front of a keyboard and monitor. He was trim and fit. If he resembled any sort of athlete, it would probably be someone who ran track.

I smiled at the thought that he could outrun any potential bully. And if he was cornered, he would probably surprise any predator. While not bulky like a bodybuilder, he was wiry and muscular like a wrestler. He looked unassuming, but I'd never bet against him. He was graceful and had a subtle confidence that hinted that he was not to be underestimated.

Many of the other girls I met at the meetups expressed a bit of envy that I'd found myself one of the good ones and asked if he was as hot as he looked. I kept up the pretense and always hinted at his prowess and attentiveness in bed. The grayhats looked up to him, but I was helping to build up his cred as a romantic superstar as well.

I was happy to do it. I enjoyed making this stuff up and telling stories that had the other girls salivating. I think I just liked captivating my audience and never gave any thought to what deep, suppressed part of my psyche came up with these electrically erotic tales.

Until now.

Maybe the best way to explore those feelings was through stories... written strictly for myself. I'd channel that part of me that came up with this intricately detailed erotica, then put on my readers hat and try to get lost in my own story.

Something told me that normal people could just disappear into their reverie in one step, but it seemed like I had to pull it from one compartment and consume it into the other. I began to think maybe I did have a libido, but had kept it buried for so long, I could no longer access it directly. Maybe this two step process could reopen that channel.

Writing sexually charged erotica was, to my surprise, something for which I showed a prolific facility. I wove thousands of words of graphic, steamy scenarios that made E.L. James seem like Mother Goose.

I thought for a moment about posting them anonymously to adult sites to see what kind of reception they got. Then I remembered my original point. To get in touch with my own passions and desires... not to get the rest of the web more hot and bothered than it already was. And if I was to post these, I'd have to be sure to go through and change all the names.

Since I was writing this strictly for my own consumption and exploration, all the characters bore a startling - if supercharged - resemblance to real people in my life. Down to the names.

A tip to those who don't already know better. When you're living with a hacker, don't write anything on a computer that you intend to keep private.

File under “Duh”.

We were riding in the back of a van to a meetup in Sacramento when Aaron slid closer and regarded me for an uncomfortably long time.

“What? Do I have something hanging form my nose? Arugula in my teeth? What?” He just kept grinning like an idiot.

“Nothing. I was just thinking....” I knew by now, that always meant trouble. “Things between us have been.... strained... the past few weeks.” He paused and searched for a reaction. I gave him nothing. “I feel like I'm to blame.”

“Ya think?” I tried to be lighthearted about it, but not let him off the hook. His unprompted confession of his feeling was the thing that put this wedge of awkwardness between us.

“They say confession is good for the soul” He smiled apologetically.

“Maybe YOUR soul.” I snorted. “It made me feel VERY....”

“...Objectified?”

“I was going to say self conscious. But now that you mention it. Yes. That too.”

“I really am sorry. I never intended this.”

“You're a bright guy. You shouldn't have been surprised at an equal and opposite reaction.”

“In hindsight, I'm not. How can we go back to the way we were?”

“How do you feel about castration?” That got a bitter laugh. But at least I made him laugh.

“I was hoping for something a little less....drastic. I miss your friendship.”

“I miss you too.”

“Well, at least we have that in common. It's a start. Truce?”

“It was never a fight.”

“OK. An awkward standoff, anyway.” I couldn't deny that, and I nodded in assent. “So. Friends? Compadres? Pals?”

“More than pals. I'll at least give you that.” I smiled.

“Good!” He broke into a broad grin and gave me a bear hug. As he pressed up against me, it became clear his feelings hadn't changed, but he was willing to put those aside. As I felt him press into me, I was beginning to wonder if my reticence was softening as he was doing quite the opposite.

“Of course we have it all under control.” Bill Lynch was barely able to hide his contempt for the political appointee on the other end of the phone. 'Stupid little pissant' he thought to himself, 'you'll be back at some candyass ivy league school as soon as these current clowns get voted out, and I'll still be keeping the world safe for ingrateful little limpdicks like you.'

He forced a sharklike smile. “They only seem like they have unfettered media access and travel access. We want them to start believing they're untouchable, so when the hammer falls “BAM!” he shouted so loud and violently he could hear the person on the other end jump back and drop his phone. This gave Lynch immense satisfaction, knowing that even over a poor voice connection he could still scare the living SHIT out of a so-called superior.

“You just leave this operation to the Big Boys, and we'll hand you this cocky little bastard's head on a platter, and round up so many of his circle jerking minions that you're gonna need to build a shitload more prisons.” Lynch crowed.

His icy laugh sent a shudder down the secretary's spine. Preston Thatcher always fantasized about a prestigious political appointment. He never imagined that he would become the ersatz supervisor of the most feared man in the halls of power, not just in Washington but across the globe. This man was undeniably dangerous, and containing his reckless ambition and capacity for brutality to forestall a major government scandal, was the seemingly impossible task with which he was commissioned.

“Well Bill, just keep me apprised before you take any action.” Tucker said, whith as much authority as he could muster.

“You expect us to ask permission before dispensing justice?” There was no longer even the pretense of hiding his contempt.

“I just want... NO... we need to be in the loop on this. I don't want to find out about another one of your stunts by seeing it on cable news, We're a team. We communicate. Am I clear?”

“Sure thing bossman. I have your number. Just wait for my call.” And with a snort he ended the call and threw the phone against the wall, watching with animal satisfaction as it exploded into a thousand pieces.

“Um... I'm not so sure about this.” I confessed.

“Hell. I haven't been sure about anything for months.” Aaron replied. “The one thing I am sure about is that ignoring the elephant in the room wasn't getting us any closer.”

“Closer to what?”

“Closer. To each other. To sorting this shit out. Tell me you don't feel it too.”

“I didn't.”

“But now?” ...I blushed.

“I know you feel it too.”

“How do you know?” My eyes locked with his. He blinked. Then he blushed.

“Oh my God. You read my stuff. My PERSONAL.... PRIVATE stuff!”

“...information wants to be free” he squeaked in a timid voice.

“GREAT! I didn't think I needed locks on my doors... figuratively or literally. You already knew my darkest secrets.”

“I didn't know ...that” he volunteered meekly.

“That was nothing. Just a psychological exercise.” I glared at him. How much longer could I feign 'righteous indignation' before I was overwhelmed by the embarrassment that Aaron had read my most private, uninhibited desires and fantasies.... all involving a fictional hero I named after him?

“I was just... just...” he stammered.

“This conversation is over!” snapped. I wasn't actually angry. I was frantic. There was no way I could think of to get myself out of this, so I just feigned fury & unilaterally terminated the conversation. To my amazement ...and relief...it worked.

After a long, awkward silence, I couldn't take it any more. Someone had to speak. I guess it was going to be me. I tried to find a subject we could agree on.

“Just wondering. When do we stop parading me around to rally the troops and actually bring Lynch and his storm troopers down? And do you have any idea how?”

Suddenly Aaron's eyes gleamed. “Soon my love. And yes... I've been thinking of little else.”

“So suddenly I'm 'little else'?” I smiled.

He rolled his eyes and smiled ruefully. “I just can't win, can I?”

“With me.... we'll see” I smiled. “With your former employers... we're all counting on it.” I squeezed his hand and impulsively gave him a peck on the cheek.

“No pressure, eh?” he laughed. Then he got serious. “I won't let you down. While you've been meeting and greeting, I've been twining the threads of the trap. Payback will be epic.”

No one would call R00tkid humble. But he never bragged, because he never had to. He had a grasp of things few could match. He could hold staggering amounts of details in his head and see how they counterbalanced and interacted with each other.

That was why he was so valuable to the goons. He gave them the surveillance tool they scarcely dreamed of. And when they realized how bright he really was, they knew he was too dangerous to live.

Fortunately , he was always dozens of moves ahead of his employers. He knew they would eventually realize that their greatest asset could be their worst nightmare if he were to fall into the wrong hands. He also knew they wouldn't dream that he figured out their plan, so they would keep him around until he delivered every tool they asked for. SIMon was fully operational, but they didn't know that. And the even more ambitious LILITH his Logarithmicly Iterated Layered Intelligence for Transactional Heuristics would be able to monitor global money and commodities markets, geopolitical tactics and strategies and other complex systems projecting the near-immediate future with a staggering degree of accuracy. It couldn't tell you what was going to happen more than a hundredth of a second from now, but it was so accurate within that 10 millisecond window, that it seemed that reality had a built-in latency, and wherever it went, LILITH was already there.

This instantly gave the organization access to essentially unlimited funding. They could skim in the ebb and flow of any market they analyzed, in such small amounts that it was never perceived as more than faint background noise to guardians and regulators, yet the combined effect of these countless tiny threads was staggering.
Lynch now had all the tools to achieve his will to power. SIMon quickly compiled juicy dossiers on his political enemies, and LILITH could manipulate markets with such subtle finesse than it could make – or break – anyone financially.

Aaron explained his background with The Enterprise to Eve because it was necessary to explain how he built these powerful tools to understand how he intended to turn them against their alleged masters.

R00tkids real claim to fame wasn't ambition or audacity, though he possessed both in abundance. Those who really grokked his reputation, knew it was his subtelty, attention to detail and seemingly infinite patience that made him such a formidable force.

The plan had been gestating even when Aaron was working for the goons. Simon was riddled with rabbit holes, and LILITH's higher functions were not even dreamed of by its operators.

“The problem is, doomsday devices and tripwires. Lynch was always a big fan of cold-war style assured destruction”

“You mean Mutually Assured Destruction” I corrected.

“No. He never understood the mutual part. He is incapable of grasping that. That's one of the things that makes him so dangerous. He would bring the world down out of spite.”

“Isn't that a bit hyperbolic?”

“No. Not at all. He may not be able to imagine the power of the tools at his disposal, but he won't hesitate to wield them as a weapon. Trillions in capital could disappear in an instant. All digital records... financial, deeds and titles, hell, even simple personal identification could disappear like that.” He snapped his fingers. “It would be instant anarchy. Civilization would lurch back three thousand years in the blink of an eye. Even I can't imagine the scope of the damage, and I pride myself on my imagination.”

I just stared at him trying to grasp the scope of what he was describing.

“Bringing him down is child's play. Always was. Preventing him from unleashing any chaos on the way down is what's taking so much time and planning. But we have a plan that we're sure is as bulletproof as we can make it, and the trillions of tiny pieces are almost in place.”

“Trillions? I don't want to call 'Hyperbole' again”.

“So don't. You've heard of 'the internet of things'? ”

“Of course” I nodded. “The latest media buzzphrase.”

“Old news. Really old news. You're a geek. Remember what Bill Gates and Paul Allen were working on before the Altair put visions of Microsoft into their heads?”

I nodded. “Some sort of automated traffic control system.”

Aaron smiled. Suddenly I felt really proud of having my 'geek cred' validated by the legendary R00tkid.

“Really just a precursor of the 'Internet of Things'... do you have any idea how many semi-dumb devices are networked? Thermostats, streetlights and office lights, temperature and moisture sensors, motion detectors, baby monitors, aquariums, smoke alarms and radon detectors, the list is staggering. And how many of them do you think have spare cpu cycles available?”

“Nearly all of them?”

R00tkid smiled. “Getting access to such a vast and heterogeneous ecosystem was non-trivial. What we've done makes Stuxnet look like the original Morris worm.”

I had to smile. This was as close to a brag as I'd ever seen Aaron come. “But you did.”

He nodded.

“To what possible end?”

He looked me in the eye and said quietly. “When that madman Lynch tries to crash the modern world, the modern world is going to fight back.”

Preston Thatcher was running late for his first meeting with members of the homeland security oversight committee. He dashed into his usual bistro, hoping Natalie would start his half caf machiato as she saw him walk through the door, and get in line.

Instead, another young woman in the familiar brown polo and green apron pressed a steaming to-go cup into his hand as he walked through the door.

“Just in time. Congratulations, you've been upgraded to our psychic service circle. Aren't you late for a meeting?”

He was somewhat nonplussed, but as he vetted the familiar aroma and confirmed with a small sip, he smiled and relaxed his guard.

“Time?” The woman tapped her watch, and Thatcher got back on track and headed for the door. Only to see he was being accompanied by the woman from the coffee shop.

“Don't you have to work?” He really didn't know what to make of this odd behavior.

“I am working, and we're both on the clock Mr Thatcher.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Who ARE you and what is this about?”

“First, let's keep walking. It will take us just over 2 and a half minutes to get you to your meeting, so I don't have much time.”

“First of all, who ARE you. You look familiar.”

“I should hope SO.” she laughed.

“Wait, are you some reality star? One of those prank shows?”

“I suppose you could consider me a reality star, in a very perverse way. I'm known to the public as 'Lady Eve'” She tugged at his arm as he stopped dead in his tracks. “Will you KEEP WALKING? We don't have much time!”

Thatcher resumed walking, trying to pay attention to the tsunami of information she was overwhelming him with, all the time reeling from being approached in public by America's most notorious escapee. ...or was that kidnapee? Even he wasn't sure anymore. He did pick up snippets of conversation. Rogue ops. Financial Armageddon. Congressional blackmail. And 'stay out of this' until the cleanup.

He also heard Patriotic Hero, Vice Presidential shoo-in, and Lynch on a meathook. He didn't understand much of what this girl was saying, but he liked what he was hearing.

“Well, THAT was fun!” I said half-facetiously as I rejoined Aaron and his crew. I was still on an adrenaline rush after my first time unaccompanied in “the real world” since the 'incident' in Prattsville.

Aaron gave the nod to return SIMon to real-time data and the surveillance grid covering the district seamlessly returned from 'the sandbox' to its usual live-feed.

This was equal part proof-of-concept and performance art.

I was the 'performance art' portion, trying to convince the bureaucrat that we were on the same side, and we were as good as we boasted. We were counting on him being bright enough to test our claim.

As for the proof-of-concept, Aaron was certain that he was able to feed near-realtime simulations into the grid, so that while I was walking in broad daylight with the director of counter-terrorist operations, the grid would be showing him traveling across town with an uncanny simulation of one of his aides, who he presumably met and acquired at the coffee shop. Nothing at all suspicious.

When Preston Thatcher thought to call up the log tapes and saw the grid coverage of himself walking to his meeting with Colin Fitch, a member of his personal staff, he was duly impressed. He began to think the outrageous claims the girl had made were more than idle boasts.

Maybe the psychotic mister Lynch wasn't so untouchable after all.

The pieces, methodically and patiently placed over the preceding three years, were all falling into place, and having laid dormant, were apparently still undetected. The end game was ready to begin.

Over the months Aaron and I had spent many long nights discussing the situation, and I was beginning to truly feel like the partner and co-collaborator that everyone always presumed the fictitious Lade 3V3 to be.

I learned a little more about my mysterious knight in shining armor. The guy I thought of as the one who saved my life... and who thought of himself as the one who recklessly put it in danger in the first place. One thing we both agreed on. He changed my life completely. And, strange as it may seem, I can't imagine life as that shell of a human being living a solitary ….subsistance.... in his isolated cabin.

I had barely allowed myself to daydream of life as a woman. Nevermind working with a staggeringly gifted collection of software and hardware engineers, neuroscientists, statisticians and financial analysts, cryptographers and assorted geniuses and legends in their various fields. It seems, the cream always rises, and when it does the best of the best have their individual – and universal epiphany. Suddenly they all saw the puppet strings controlling the world as they knew it. And they all traced it back to the puppetmasters. And the same insight that allowed them to see the truth hidden in plain sight, also allowed them to see and recognize each other. They came together by mutual attraction and a shared vision and obsession.... to fix what was broken. To 'patch' human society.

As people shared their stories with me I was struck by how individual they were, yet how they fused seamlessly into the big picture. Like threads in a tapestry, or individual instruments in a massive orchestral symphony. The 'origin story' that resonated with me the most, for obvious reasons, was Aarons.

He was the typical atypical. Diagnosed as a problem child with all sorts of presumed mental deficiencies by bureaucrats who noted that his development wasn't where it should be and presumed that it meant he was behind, never even imagining that he was actually lightyears ahead and battling profound boredom and frustration. He kidded that he was lucky he was born when he was, where he just got shipped off to a mental health facility and not in a time where he would have simply been hidden or possibly killed for possessing blasphemous gifts. The doctors at the psychiatric hospital quickly figured out what was going on and wanted to keep him as a lab rabbit, but Aaron's parents quickly withdrew him from the care of the doctors – and the public school system, and managed to get him scholarships for the gifted to a number of private institutions. He finished his Doctorate at fifteen and a half and was immediately offered an 'advanced study' program at an elite think tank. Which turned out to be government run. He was courted by various three letter agencies – including NGOs – when mysteriously all offers but one were withdrawn. He didn't mind the lack of choice, since the one remaining was the one he was likely to take anyway. The opportunities they were offering a sixteen year old were too amazing to pass up. So he ended up going to work for 'the goons' – or as they referred to themselves 'the Enterprise'. He thought it was a sly Star Trek reference, but he quickly realized that there were no trekkies remotely involved with these folks. They just envied the way CIA referred to itself as 'the Company' so someone found a thesaurus and they became 'the Enterprise'. His first few years were a heady rush. He'd been assigned extremely daunting – some might say impossible, tasks. This was exactly the challenge he was looking for and he marveled at how his employer always gave him expectations that forced him to always push himself and be his best, which he loved after a lifetime of coasting with facile tasks that bored him to depression.

His first project was Cornerstone. The grid network and collaborated processing architecture that would support all his other projects. He was surprised at how his employers did not even blink at the staggering costs and scope of his initial project. And how they didn't seem the least surprised or excited that it worked flawlessly the first time this fractal mesh of edge-shattering technologies was actually powered up and tested.

Emboldened by his Cornerstone success, Aaron quickly got to work on Rosetta, the decryption UI that quickly sliced through to the order in any entropy and made the world's secrets an open book. It also had a welcome side effect of creating encryption that was unlikely to be cracked by any other technology to be developed in at least the next 50 years using current encryption paradigms. So, his bosses could read everyone's files and no one would be able to read theirs for at least half a century.

His next assignment was SIMon, and he practically salivated at the opportunity to create a network that fed nearly infinite inputs into a neural net, which he patterned after the brain of an insect with a myriad of eyes, to quickly wring order from the chaos of an impossibly expensive and pervasive network of surveillance systems as well as covertly leeching data from existing networks owned by individuals, corporations and even other nation states. SIMon could simultaneously process information from single cameras and the entire meta-network. Paired with impressive and ever improving pattern recognition, little happened in the world that SIMon wasn't aware of , and paying at least subliminal attention to. Aaron used to joke that he wanted to call SIMon SANTA because it knew when you were sleeping, it knew when you'd awake, it knew if you were bad or good.... etc.

After every 'impossible' task, his employers managed to raise the bar even higher. His next – and what was to turn out to be his final project, was the most ambitious yet. It was an A.I. Running atop Cornerstone, aided by Rosetta and SIMon, which would monitor markets. Not just financial and commodity and currency markets, but 'news futures' as well, which political or religious or social power structures were rising, which were due for a downturn, and predict – with astounding short term accuracy – economic and geopolitical currents. It also had a component that combined with its uncanny predictions, managed to add a few microseconds of latency into financial markets, enough to allow its own transactions to effectively 'jump queue' and benefit principally from any change of state. Like harvesting the tides whichever direction they were flowing. The transactions were infinitessimally small, and myriad. A few dollars profit on a transaction of hundreds of millions was pretty much noise-level to regulators and other monitoring interests, however when applied to hundreds of billions of transactions worldwide, this microskim resulted in such a windfall that his bosses need never had to worry again about congressional appropriations. They had essentially become autonomous. His latest creation was the mother of all A.I.s, which is why he chose to call it LILITH. The Logarithmic Iterated Largely-intuitive Interpreter of Transactional Heuristics. He had already begun unwinding by reading creation myths of various cultures, and he was quite familiar with Genesis from his own, reasonably secular yet seriously intellectual upbringing. He worried that people might think it was hubris on his part, that he was getting some sort of 'god complex' but he was really just curious to see how people tackled such profound yet fundamental issues as the nature and purpose of existence.

It was while he was finishing work on LILITH and wondering what his next project could be that he was approached by the ones he jokingly referred to as 'The Elders'. I guess most people would immediately think Elders of Zion or something equally lofty, but I immediately smirked when he said it, thinking of 'The Elders of the Internet' – an old joke from BBC's 'The I.T. Crowd'. He gave me a smile and said..... “you got I, didn't you?” I smiled back and nodded, then shuffled uncomfortably when I remembered other aspects of that particular episode. I saw Aaron's expression change at nearly the same instant as mine, and knew without a doubt we were having exactly the same thought... as we did alarmingly often.

He coughed slightly and shuffled a bit. “Well, they reached out to me as an intriguingly subtle anomally in a dataset that I quickly recognized as ….the first in a series of breadcrumbs. It was actually a quickly realized obsession as I detected and worked through the escalatingly obtuse puzzle that brought me into contact with ….them. It was a sort of a test. Although it quickly became clear that they had no doubt I'd pass, but seemed surprised by how quickly I'd progressed to the end and found myself deep down the rabbit hole. It was also a method of protecting themselves – and me. By the time I had dug my way down to the end, it was extremely unlikely that anyone – or anything, with the possible exception of LILITH, would be able to track where I was or what I was doing. They explained themselves a little. They watched over the world. Shifting balances of power and fortunes. Their only mission, they claimed, was the protection of modern civilization.... from nuclear war, financial collapse, religious upheaval by forces who villainized and vowed to 'cleanse' millenia of human progress, and other 'existential threats to human progress'. I thought it must be some kind of prank, but it was far too elaborate and too complex to be a joke. I asked what their interest was in me, and they claimed that they had been aware of me for quite a while. Usually, 'recruits' reached a certain point in their development where they became aware of and reached out to 'The Elders'. But for the first time they were reaching out... to me... because of the gravity of the threat. They followed with considerable interest... and I later learned, a bit of awe, as we deployed Cornerstone, Rosetta, and SIMon. That all turned to dismay when they learned of LILITH. They pointed out to me all the ways the powerful tools I crafted for my employer could also be used as weapons. Which I had never even imagined. They gave me proof that that was in fact their principal use. They also opened my eyes to the devastating power of LILITH, and how it would make my employers virtually invincible. At which point, I would be of no further use to them. Since I could offer no additional benefit and posed an immeasurable threat should my 'big brain' fall into other hands, it had already been decided that the moment I delivered LILITH that the asset – me, would be retired – killed.

This came as a shock to me, but I quickly came up with an idea which 'The Elders' vigorously approved. I would continue 'work' on LILITH, all the time building in additional hooks – modeling them after cellular protein receptors – in the machine code. I did the same to Cornerstone, Rosetta and SIMon too – explaining that I needed to 'evolve' the codebase to interact seamlesly with LILITH. This passed muster with their code inspectors, who.... not to be snide about it, were like a bunch of fourth grade arithmetic students proofing Fermat's Theorem.

So, once LILITH was finished, but not reported, I arranged one of the 'day trips' I sporadically took to clear my mind when I was working on an especially tough problem. With help from my new secret friends and a bit of the new functionality I build into SIMon, I was able to 'drop off' the grid. My new benefactors suggested that we move quickly on a distraction and a strategy to disarm my former employers. I was shuffled around in a covert human network, I guess others would call it an 'underground railroad' but that seemed a bit too 19th century, so I started referring to it as the 'undernet' and I guess people liked it because it caught on. I was surprised by how many of us there were, but we all remained anonymous. Something learned from French resistance fighters and many other roots-up groups. It seemed sound mesh architecture to me. Each puzzle piece knew only its adjoining pieces. Still, it was decided that this loose affiliation needed a face or at least a figurehead. I was approached with the idea of being the public face of the unseen movement, since I seemed to have by far the greatest means to protect myself – being the only one with access to the tools I built for my former employer. So, R00Tkid was born ...or hatched. I quickly found that while it was originally just an iconic identity, the image and I were quickly becoming the same thing....”

“Tell me about it” I laughed. Aaron smiled knowingly.

“So... R00Tkid. Grassroots organizing, getting the germ of the idea of what we would do. Lots of preliminaries and small steps... baby steps... laboriously designing the DNA of each and every seed we would plant in this vast jungle.... this entire ecosystem of taps and hooks and hacks and levers to rebuild the weapons of oppression as the tools of liberation and cut the strings of the sinister forces manipulating global events. Sure enough, R00tKid distracted the goons, who had already discovered that LILITH was complete and enabled her. Chasing me would preoccupy them while we laid the framework for deploying our ….patch. But, I was kind of tired of being the only face of the movement, so I dug into my old skillset and brushed up my VR chops. I had become pretty adept at A.I. after all my work for the goons, so crafting a photorealistic, semi-autonomous companion wasn't all that challenging. To my relief and satisfaction, not even my most elite associates twigged to the fact that The Lady 3V3 was ….not of this world. Until the events of which you are all too familiar.” He smiled. “Which brings us up to now. So where do we go from here?”

“Do you ever miss her?” I asked.

“Who?” He genuinely didn't know.

“3V3. Your EVE. Not.....” I scowled and looked down at my body “this pretender.”

“Wait wait wait wait....hold ON.... YOU are no pretender. It's uncanny how much you're like her.”

“Yeah, I know. ...Except for the scars...” I grimaced involuntarily.

“No, NO! The personality construct.... when... when you came into our... my... life.... as I got to know you I decided that it would be prudent for you and 3V3 to be as congruous as possible. So I dove into the A.I. Code to tweak her personality... her behavior, her tastes and temperment... and I found the required tweaks to be....inconsequential. OK, your sense of humor is far more developed and...um... she is more unreservedly fond of me.... at least openly fond....” I blushed as he eyed me quizically “...but yeah, she was already pretty much you. Just... kind of 2-dimensional.”

“Are you calling me FAT?” I glared. He went beet red and started moving his mouth like a fish. I couldn't hold my poker face and burst out laughing. That brought a slight scowl.

“As I was saying about her sense of humor. Anyway, 3V3 is now pretty much you. In fact, she's kind of your biggest fan. Her A.I. monitors all your activity...” Aaron caught himself “I mean PUBLIC activity.... emails, interviews, every appearance you've done. Everything you do becomes part of her memories. She is your shadow, your echo, your reflection in the virtual world. And because she is essentially you, yeah... she's your biggest fan and supporter.”

Aaron addressed the group in the Alt-TOR-net hangout.

“The dominoes are all all in place. Thank you all for your focus and perseverance. This is a payoff that's been a long time coming. Yet I feel as positive as I ever have about anything, that our insanely thorough – read complicated (laughs and nods from the crowd) – mousetrap ...no RAT trap... will meet and quite likely exceed our expectations. I can't thank you all enough for your contributions to this undertaking. Once this begins, we will have no further contact – for everyone's safety. I only wish you all good luck, godspeed, a happy life, and maybe I'll see you at the reunion when and if the statute of limitations for what we're about to do expires. (more laughs and solemn nods)

“The first domino is actually just 126 bytes of code to a traffic control system in Nogales, but my ...partner in crime...” Aaron nodded at me and grinned, a delighted and mischievous twinkle in his eye “The Lady Eve... convinced me that the beginning of the rebalancing sequence – which she also helpfully named 'operation gordian knot' should be more symbolic.... more.... “ he glanced at me and I knew what he wanted.

I stepped in front of the camera, placed my arm around his waist and said “Ceremonial. A little bit of performance art. If you're not capturing this stream already, you should start now!” I smiled and handed Aaron 'the Gizmo'.

He smiled at the theatrical absurdity of it, but I think he was a bit tickled to have this little bit of ceremony, that - if all went well, they could one day show on cable news and future history classes as 'the moment change began'.

It was a deliberately absurd prop: An old Staples “Easy-Button” Painted with a yellow circle and slash, fitted with a usb cable to Rootkid's hackbook. The crowd laughed out loud when Aaron held it up to the webcam, and with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician, ceremoniously pushed the 'Not-Easy' Button and declared “Time to reboot the world”.

“It has begun.” he smiled to the hangout. “No stopping it now. I strongly recommend you begin your disappearance protocols right now. It will take them at least 20 minutes to notice anything is up, but once they do, they will be swift, brutal and sloppy. You need to be so far gone that they can't even get you by accident with their inevitable carpet bombing. So be well, stay stealth and see you on the other side.”

No one really knew how long it would take for the goons to notice something was up. The hack really was a slow boil. The comandeered devices began seeking and attaching to each other. The model was suggested by Lisa the medical researcher, and modeled the formation of the brain in a living embryo. Pathways would form and bond and increase exponentially... not just for communication but for shared processing. The purpose was twofold. To find and exploit “leaks” ...communication channels that could bypass the traditional routing system and circumvent any attempt to thwart the process by shutting down routers that could dam off compromised parts of the network. Second was to apply massively parallel processing to change the keys on all the goon's resources. In essence, to lock them out of their own systems and to decrypt and distribute their files – the digital evidence of every one of their dirty tricks and blackmail to the subjects of those files. Not making them public, Just handing control of the information to the victims it had been used against. And releasing general records of their sordid operations to news organizations and legitimate law enforcement agencies across the globe.

The call was unexpected. Bill Lynch was never surprised, but he was going to have to get used to it.

“Just checking in on the ...search for your misplaced item.” Preston Thatcher inquired with a hint of a smile in his voice. Lynch was unused to being addressed with anything other than respect or fear, so the snide tone of voice went completely unnoticed.

“Things are always progressing but that's none of your concern. I told you earlier, when you need to know something I will contact you.” he hissed with menace.

“Riiiight....” Thatcher replied with a gleam in his eye, trying his best to sound like the passive-agressive boss from 'Office Space' and betting that Lynch had never seen it. He was now certain his encounter with the Lady Eve had indeed been completely off the radar. His confidence was bolstered. “You see, the thing is.... technically.... I'm the director... and you're a division chief.... so.....” and he held the vowel waiting to be interrupted by his volatile subordinate. He didn't have to wait long.

“Don't pull that org chart bullshit with me!” Lynch roared. “You're just another political hack playing musical chairs, and you may think you can fuck with me because technically you're my boss” ...Thatcher could hear the air quotes... “but long after you return to being an ordinary civilian tar...” the words were so conjoined in his experience, Lynch had to catch himself mid-phrase. “...long after you're just another face in the crowd, I'll still be here... running this. You do NOT want me as an enemy”

“Why, Mr Lynch, an ordinary ...civilian ...whatever...” he grinned “might interpret that declaration as a threat.” He paused as long as he dared. “But we're all professionals here and I understand that it was a candid tactical assessment.” He waited for a response, but just heard hard breathing on the other end, so he went on. “I understand the ramifications to having you as an enemy. I also understand, unlike so many.... that not everyone is your enemy....” he paused again. Still no response. “Aside from enemies, you also have …tactical assets...” That was met by a snort from the other end of the line.

“So, keeping in mind that we both have a keen interest in the situation with your ...missing asset... being resolved, I'm trying to be a good administrator and keep on top of the situation... So, nothing to report?”

Lynch had checked his rage and returned to his stock, menacingly icy demeanor. “Nothing warranting escalation up the ...command tree...” Thatcher smiled as he imagined the bitterness of those words in Lynch's mouth. “We'll contact you when the situation warrants.”

Feeling uncharacteristically cheerful, having gotten all he came for and knowing that Lynch was utterly unaware of the shifting power dynamics, Thatcher was upbeat and magnanimous. “Good to know. I'll let you get back to things until I hear from you then. Carry on.” Lynch merely hung up. Thatcher was certain at that moment, that it had been their last direct conversation. He sat back, steepled his fingers and wondered what disruptive mischief the Lady Eve and her cohorts had up their sleeves.

“I don't care if he's meeting with Jesus Christ himself! Interrupt him and tell him the goddamned head of the goddamned intelligence committee needs to speak to him NOW!”

John B Forrest was famously unrufflable. In his long sordid political career he'd had to be. The stunned aide had never seen him like this. It was as if decades of suppressed fury were unleashed in one pinpoint moment. Apoplectic didn't even begin to describe him.

“Mr Chairman. This is ...unexpected.” The icy Mr Lynch said over the speakerphone.

“I just got a call from 'The Guardian'. They wanted my reaction to release of 'the dossier'”

“Dossier? What dossier? What did you tell them?”

“I can only imagine it was your fucking dossier. The one you're always holding over my head like a fucking sword of Damocles. I always thought you were bluffing, because you only hinted at things, but they came right out with it. The blood diamond mines, Mexican zeta connections, dosing that ACLU asshole before the televised debate, even the goddamned cheerleader! You never mentioned that but this HAS to be your file! What the FUCK???”

“Are you on speakerphone? ….are you calling from your office?” a few clicks from the other end of the line and it was evident Lynch knew exactly where the call originated and everywhere it was being routed. “Jesus CHRIST.” click.

Forrest was beside himself that the chief of the black ops division, for whom he had done so many favors.... well, actually with whom he had so many mutual ….business interests... had brusquely hung up on him. He was furiously trying to decide how to react to this unexpected rebuke when there was a slight shudder and the entire office was plunged into darkness. His aide stuck her head through the door. “I just looked into the hallway. I think the whole building is...” when she was interrupted by the flashing strobes and klaxons of the fire alarm.

They both knew the drill, so he motioned for his aide to start out while he gathered some sensitive papers and would join her at the designated area outside. Once she was gone, he sealed his safe, locked his computer, grabbed his secure Blackberry and made his way to the secure evac corridor known only to a handful on the succession list.

He was met in the sub basement corridor by a few colleagues who seemed as in the dark as he was. A uniformed guard met them halfway down the corridor and escorted them to electrical carts for travel through the miles of tunnels connecting the capitol.

“What happened?” Forrest asked as the guard shrugged.

“Have to assume the worst. Terrorist device, and work it back from there. May end up just being a transformer explosion at a power substation. You know the drill.”

Forrest nodded. He'd helped write the protocol. Assume the worst then back it down as facts warrant. He knew the guard was escorting him to a situation room while his colleagues were headed for safe locations.

His reaction to the guard turning on him with the taser would be an unnecessary pun.

When he came to, he tried to grab his splitting head, only to find his arms tightly lashed to the gurney. As he slowly gathered his wits, he heard the wail of the siren and recognized the inside of the ambulance. While dressed as EMTs, the two lurking above him looked more like soldiers.

“He's awake.” One said to the driver.

“Minutes away” came the response through the partition. The two sets of eyes regarded him closely, but dispassionately. Like researchers staring at a specimen.

The vehicle turned off its siren, then quickly negotiated a series of turns followed by ramps. They were headed down. Deep. But that was no help. They could be anywhere around the district or the greater control zone. The vehicle lurched to a stop and the back doors flew open as Bill Lynch stormed inside.

“What the FUCK were you thinking???” he bellowed, his spittle showering the face of the still restrained Intelligence Committee Chair who wanted nothing more at this instant than to wipe his face.

“I was blindsided by that goddamned newspaper. I was too shocked to even bluff, so they'll probably take my hanging up on them as confirmation. I knew that had to be your shit-file because it was so thorough. I wanted to know why you sold me out and at that point figured I was the walking dead, so I didn't really care about discretion or security protocol.”

Lynch instantly became calm. His change in demeanor was so drastic and so sudden, it was deeply unsettling.

“We didn't ….I didn't 'sell you out'. I don't know where they got that information. We're tracing logs to see if anyone else accessed our files.” He smiled to himself. “Not very damned likely.” Then he stared at the congressman. “By your reaction to ...preposterous and unsubstantiated allegations... you sold yourself out. And by your insecure call on a public telecom network you implicated US.” He frowned, regarded the congressman for a moment, and a slight grin formed. “You were right about one thing.”

The congressman stared up at him from his lashed gurney, and tried to read his eyes. They were expressionless. And terrifying.

“You are the walking dead.” Lynch turned and left the ambulance, calling over his shoulder “ICE him!”

John Birch Forrest had not lived an exemplary life. If it were to flash before him in his final moments, he expected all of his dirty tricks and strategic betrayals ...or at least the highlights... the planted kiddie porn found in the car of that former school teacher who ran against him for city council... What a feather in the cap of the officer who made the routine traffic stop for the 'broken' tail light. His star rose too and eventually he became head of the state highway patrol and a very useful ally. The young campaign aide who became even more useful when he was able to pin her underage pregnancy and eventual suicide on that irritating minister who tried to rally community groups to oppose his state senate race. The former ACLU lawyer and peace corps activist who ran against him for congress and tripped his brains out during a live televised debate. The strategic alliances he made on getting to the capitol, proving that he understood the game and well understood the concept of 'the enemy of my enemy'. It had proved more lucrative than even his oversized ambitions could have imagined. And it appeared his elaborate jenga tower of deceit and betrayal was about to crash down on him. He wondered, surprised by his calm resignation, how they would dispose of his body. So he asked.

His 'handlers' laughed. One turned to him. “You've been watching too many movies congressman. We're not going to kill you. ….you're just... well, speaking of movies... do you remember what they did to the guy in Star Wars? Kind of vacuum packed him for storage?” Forrest nodded. “That's what we mean by iced. Just stored away safe. Only we don't have that sci-fi stuff...”

“...Carbonite” the other muttered.

“Yeah. Like that. We just have to do it the old fashioned way.” And with that he turned the valve on the I.V. and the world went away.

“What do you mean we can't access the logs? Of course they're encrypted, it's a seclayer5 system. What? Re-encrypted? How is that possible? Well it's your job to find out!”

Lynch slammed his phone down. They would be back at C&C in under 10 minutes. If that pencil neck didn't fully grasp how unacceptable the situation was from the phone call, Lynch would make it painfully clear in person.

It should have taken them 10 minutes to return, but every traffic light turned red just as they arrived at the intersection. Lynch had noticed but not thought anything of it at first. After the sixth light turned red only moments after turning green and just as they arrived at the intersection, Lynch took notice.

“Someone's fucking with us” he said to the driver. He looked around at the empty intersection and motioned to the driver. “Fuck it. Run it.”

No sooner had they passed through the intersection than they heard the blip of the siren. Lynch was roiling with disbelief. The driver eyed him in the mirror and he nodded. “...pull over”

As the motorcycle cop walked up to the drivers window, Lynch rolled down the rear window. “Didn't you see the plates?”

The officer stopped and regarded him. Expressionless.

“You DID make the plate. Yet you still pulled us over.”

The officer unbuttoned her holster and turned to Lynch. “I owe you no explanations. I'm doing my job and this fleet vehicle was reported stolen minutes after an ...incident... at a congressional office complex...”

“I'm well aware of the incident. We're just returning from there with critical data. Something's up. Something big. First the explosion... and then the stolen vehicle report....” Lynch fished for his credentials. The nondescript DOD credentials he kept for outsiders. The officer took it and nodded. “Whoever is doing this is up to something BIG. We don't know how big yet, and they're trying to stop us. First the stolen vehicle APB, and...” he pointed to the traffic light which had resumed normal functioning. “did you notice how that light turned green and seconds later when we got there it turned red again? Somebody's fu... excuse me... someone is tampering with the traffic control system. And I'm certain with the surveillance camera network too. I know, because that is MY network. I'm trying to get back to our command and control center with vital information about the congressional office explosion and you are tying us up with this stop. You are being PLAYED officer. We are BOTH being played. And I want to know by who.”

The cop listened calmly and gave no indication on whether or not she was buying this when her radio cackled 'all available units backup requested Wyoming and K. Shots fired. Officer down.'

The cop startled and looked around at the placid intersection of Wyoming Avenue and K Street. She turned to Lynch. “We ARE being played. They'll come in with guns blazing. Get the hell out of here and try to get to the bottom of this. I'll try to talk them down when they get here.” She gave the fender two hard thumps and the driver sped off.

Those little shits overplayed their hand. They're not as bright as they think.

His smugness was shortlived as it became apparent that they were being monitored by SIMon and the police and national guard were waiting for them everywhere they turned.

Triggering a possible terrorist incident at the congressional office complex seemed like a handy way to get Forrest alone for rendition, but it also activated all the security protocols, so they were not just being pursued by police, but military forces as well.

Their vehicle was well protected against police rifles, but Lynch did not want to face down anti-armor weaponry. His driver was the best. He managed to thread the needle and avoid the tightening security net. Lynch had himself let off in a back alley so quickly that it seemed that the car had rushed through to avoid main streets. He had instructed the driver to avoid capture as long as possible and when that was no longer possible to drive into the fussilade inflicting maximum damage and buy him time while they pored through the wreckage. The driver was well trained. He gave just the slightest nod of acknowledgment at the order of his suicide mission. Lynch scanned the alley to confirm the absence of cameras, and jumped into a nearby dumpster, burying himself under the bags and formulating his next move.

The “Subject:” line was my idea, And Aaron seemed delighted at the suggestion.

“The truth will set you free. ...But first it will piss you off” he grinned.

“One of my personal favorites from the ever-quotable Gloria Steinem” I smiled back.

“Eerily appropriate. OK. We'll have LILITH re-encrypt the dossiers, ship them off to their subjects with your wickedly droll cover letter and a one-time decryption key that only they could know.”

“How can you use a key that only they can know, when they're not expecting this email and can't possibly know the key?”

Aaron gave me a sly smile and his eyes did that twinkle they did when he was really proud of something. “Deep data mining my dear. LILITH will ask them something that even they didn't know they knew!”

I know he chided me on constantly giving him 'the Spock eye', but I couldn't help raising my eyebrow at this claim. I knew him too well to doubt it, but I still couldn't wrap my brain around how he was going to do it.

He snorted at my raised eyebrow and skeptical face, Then, as I knew he would, he explained. OK, I had really set him up to boast how he did it, which he would be too modest to do unless I challenged him with the Spock-eye.

“Everyone who has a dossier has something to hide. Some of it is scandalous, but the goons data mining is so thorough, most of it is boring but not widely known. So, we mine the mundane and arcane to stitch together a 'clue' to a one-time password that only the recipient has a likelihood of discerning.

Let's find an example...” he sat at his hackbook and queried LILLITH.

“OK. Here's a clue for one recipient 'Four fields. The password to your unlisted account at Bank Geneve followed by the middle name of your illegitimate child, the year and make of the car your father first let you borrow when you got your license, and ….oh LILLITH you have outdone yourself!.... your oldest living aunt's childhood bestfriend's older brothers nickname.”

“How can LILLITH know any of this stuff?”

“I did mention that the network is ….thorough.... didn't I?” he beamed “...but this... this is even more than I expected. And I know better than anyone what LILLITH is capable of.”

“OK. But the Aunt's friends, brother's ….what the hell?”

Aaron twisted his face a bit still grinning. “Yeah, that one surprised me too. The clue was supposed to be the most mundane and arcane bits LILITH could find... but... that... let me dig....” and he turned back to his hackbook. A few moments later he raised his head beaming with ….pride?

“Oh Eve, you're gonna LOVE this! LILITH did a search through genealogical records of the recipient's family tree, cross referenced relatives with phone and email records of the recipient. It turns out he has an elderly aunt who emails him at holidays from her AOL account. So she's still alive, and he knows how to reach her. Digging through her records, it came across a phone conversation she had years ago with her oldest childhood friend who was in hospice care across the country...”

“Wait. LILITH accessed an old telephone conversation?”

“Off topic.” Aaron waved his hands. “Old long distance calls were multiplexed microwave or maybe satellite, Any hop across borders or outside of ….domestic airspace.... constitutes an 'international connection' and domestic surveillance restrictions come off.”

“But!...” I started to protest, wide-eyed at this casual revelation. He quickly waved me off.

“Off...TOPIC!”

I bit my lip.

“So, the aunt is reminiscing with her dying friend and talking about the crush she used to have on her older brother Tobias when they were girls....” he grinned.

“So the recipient will call his old aunt ask her this crazy question and find out the piece of the decryption key is ….Toby?...” I nodded. This WAS impressive.

Aaron grinned widely and his eyes lit up as he shook his head. “Spanky!” he clucked.

“Spanky?”

“Apparently young Toby fancied himself the ladies' man and he was notorious for swatting his sisters prettier friends on the behind as he passed. They reminisced about that in their conversation.”

“The DOG!” I gasped. But couldn't help but laugh.

“Good luck to ANYONE else who thinks they will be able to break THAT key!” Aaron howled. “Like I said, the one time keys are things only the recipients could know... and even THEY don't know that they know them!”

“Arcane and mundane! R00TKID, you're a genius!” and without thinking, I bent over and planted a huge kiss on his cheek.

I'm not sure which of us blushed more, but Aaron got suddenly shy again. “It wasn't really me. It was LILITH and SIMON” he peeped.

I refused to break my smile. “And WHERE exactly did LILITH and SIMON come from?” I put my hands on his shoulders, and held him in front of me, holding his gaze. “You must be such a proud papa!”

At that he broke into a wide smile and clutched me to him in a hug so tight I nearly had the breath squeezed out of me.

That went on for an awkwardly long time, until it was clear that his pride had been replaced by another emotion. And I wasn't sure I was quite ready for that.

So, as I always do, I changed the subject.

“OK. Blackmail dossiers are going out to their subjects. Collaborators' dossiers are going to the media. Goons' encryption keys are being changed so they can't access their own records. Financial market siphons are being redirected to recompense their former victims. Now it's time for the really fun part.”

“Operation fingertrap” he grinned.

“I still wish you had let me call it operation 'roach motel'”

“Hey, spygirl... you're lucky I let you call it 'operation anything'” he grinned.

“Hey. We all voted. Your people liked my idea. Democracy dude.”

“Hmmph. The Lady 3V3 never turned my troops against me.” he mock scowled.

“Maybe you just never gave her the opportunity” I petulantly shot back. “Maybe like LILITH she would have surprised you.”

He turned to me. Took my hands in his and said softly. “She already HAS....”

I think we both grew up on too much TV, because I knew he too was thinking 'fade to black ...annnd... commercial....”

Instead there was this awkward cough, breaking touch, shuffling, and getting back to helping the goons self-destruct.

It had been at least a half hour and no one had come looking for him. Bill Lynch pulled himself from the dumpster and wiped the filth from his tailored suit as best he could. He fished the secure Blackberry from his jacket pocket and rang C&C.

“Operator.”

“Raptor. Code 6. S-I-X. Sector C. Charlie. NOW!”

click

“Operations.”

“Dayton. What the fuck is up?”

“Sir? ...umm... secure?”

“Jesus Christ! Of course secure. I'm in field and being pursued. What the fuck is up?”

“No idea sir. Everything here is nominal. We were beginning to wonder where you were.”

“Being hunted. Like I SAID! ...fuck... S.I.Monitor's compromised. You saw nothing?”

“No sir. Just the usual ordinary.”

“We 're being fucked with. They rigged every traffic light. Put false traffic on secure police channels. Put a fucking A.P.B. out on us. ….No... On ME..... that little fuckstick is coming after ME personally.”

“Who sir? And why would anyone go after you?”

“Well, he's not going to get away with it. Him and his pencil neck army.... and that goddam bitch of his.” Lynch laughed bitterly at the thought that it was him who made her his goddam 'bitch'.

“Activate RenOps. Protocol Alpha. I repeat ALPHA. I need a grab 10 fucking minutes ago.”

“Alpha. Yes sir. Target?”

Lynch laughed. “Me.”

The RENdition Operations team was well trained. They were the elite of the elite. Nothing phased them. But when the order came for a Protocol Alpha sortie, they all looked at each other.

No one spoke. They were too well trained. They knew Protocol Alpha as well as any of their missions. Still, they had never done it outside of drills and training. They wondered if this was just the most realistic drill yet. They would know soon enough. If any of them returned alive.

Protocol Alpha was the plan in the playbook designed for renditioning high-profile, heavily protected targets.... hostile heads of state, religious leaders, drug kingpins.... the top of whatever organizational pyramid it was used against. It was designed to provoke mayhem and raise the noise level, distracting defenses so that when the actual, targeted action went down, security and defense forces were too overwhelmed and distracted to react in time to prevent it.

Put simply, it was designed to create maximum collateral damage.

As they scattered to their separate unmarked vans, the commander yelled out after them the mantra they already knew so well.

“Remember. Maximum casualties, minimum kills. Injured take a team, bodies just take a bag.”

As the sea of vans pulled out of the nondescript office parks that littered northern Virginia and southern Maryland, and details of the mission were given to each team as they headed for their positions, they listened intently and said nothing. As trained. However every man was thinking they could never actually envision circumstances in which protocol Alpha would be triggered. And they couldn't begin to wrap their minds around the fact that it was being used on home soil, as government commandos were being unleashed to wreak violent mayhem on the nation's capitol. They were too well-trained to be distracted by such deeply alarming thoughts, so they focused on their individual roles in this elaborately choreographed exercise.

“So, he's hiding in a dumpster in DC... with all the rest of the vermin.” I chuckled. “What's next?”

“We let him go.” R00tkid said quietly.

“What?” I couldn't believe what he was saying, much less the quiet, emotionless way he said it. Then I realized... he was methodically extrapolating this chess move.

“We've rattled him. That will make him even more reckless. Now we let him get back to Command and Control …barely, and he will be sure by his own wiles and wits. It will make him even more cocky and he will construct an even bigger noose for us, which he will slip himself into without even realizing.”

SIMon's pattern alarms turned our attention to the multiple windows showing white vans streaming from corporate parking garages ringing the district. It looked like something out of those old 1960s movies... or Mike Myers' parody in the first Austin Powers film. Multiple windows on large monitors all showing seemingly the same thing... scores of unremarkable white vans streaming onto highways and connectors headed for the city.

“What the hell is he up to? This is BIG.” R00tkid rubbed the back of his neck.

“Is he planning some kind of diversion?” ...it was the only thing I could think of, yet still it made no sense.

“That would be like starting a forest fire to hide the fact that you were littering. It's insanely disproportionate.”

Then Aaron's eyes got distant and I could see he was deep in thought.

“Sonofabitch. That's exactly what he's doing. Insanely disproportionate is his trademark!”

And with that he ran to his hackbook and started querying Lillith.

“Holy shit. I think this is protocol Alpha!”

“What's protocol Alpha?”

“It's this ridiculous wargame scenario that makes all the military boys breathe hard. It's like something out of a bad Tom Clancy knockoff... or Dr Strangelove. I think it goes back to when certain think tanks were tasked to come up with insane schemes to kidnap and brainwash Stalin... then they updated it for Castro... Qadaffi, Hussein, Kohmeni... you name it they have a variation. Basically it involves throwing an insane amount of covert commandos into a hostile theater to create total confusion while the leader is snatched & bagged. This is like porn for pentagoners. Like global thermonuclear wargames, no one would actually DO this.”

“Except for our rattled and reckless friend.”

Aaron nodded solemnly. “ I believe so.”

“So what's the point? Who is he kidnapping?”

“Well, there was that whole hoax at the Senate office building, but they already nabbed the committee chair. SIMon logged that. I can't think of any other targets valuable enough to warrant this extreme an action....”

R00tkid furrowed his brow, obviously searching for an answer that fit, no matter how unlikely. Suddenly he burst out in the widest grin I'd ever seen.

“Hahahahaha” he cackled with glee. “It sounds ridiculous, but I think there's only one target he would consider important enough to provoke this extreme rendition offensive.”

“Who?” I was lost... I could usually almost keep up with Aaron, but this time I had no idea where he was headed. “Who the hell could Lynch want to grab badly enough to unleash US commandos on the damned capital?”

Rootkid beamed the most menacing grin I've ever seen and replied quietly “Himself”

I was stunned. We planned to rattle him, and I thought we had succeeded, but this was mind boggling.

“You mean he's having hundreds of guerrilas randomly attack Washington DC just to get himself out?”

“Looks that way.” R00tkid smiled. “I guess he scares much more than we thought.”

“That WEASEL!” I was beside myself. My fury was uncontrollable and I had no desire to control it. Words can't describe the ….contempt... I felt towards this evil sociopathic ...coward!

“How many people are going to be injured or killed by this stunt of his?”

“No telling. As many as possible, that's the point. Maximum distraction.”

“We have to stop this!”

“No kidding. I'm still working on how...” Even while he was talking with me, explaining his theory about what was really going on and why, Aaron was already frantically working his hackbook, planning a dozen moves ahead. As always.

“They're still about 10 to 12 minutes from their marks, when they will deploy and start raising hell. We don't have much time.”

I had a thought. “We don't have an army of our own, but we do have the grid. What if we tamper with traffic signals and cause accidents to block their path? I know it's dragging random folks into the battle, but it seems they will do worse.”

His face was somber. “Yeah. Much worse. That's the point. I hate to stoop to their tactics, but it may be the best option. Wrecked cars and exploded airbags beats a deliberate massacre. Time to create some surgical collateral damage to prevent massive collateral damage. Eve, you're brilliant!” He smiled. I blushed. And I hoped my spur of the moment idea actually worked.

It didn't take long to find out. It's amazing how people will proceed into a busy intersection just because the light tells them to, ignoring cross traffic that shows no signs of slowing, let alone stopping. I guess that's why some people follow their GPS devices into lakes and over cliffs.

Yes. My crazy scheme worked. And R00tkid sweetened it by tampering with natural gas regulators and electrical transformer controls to cause spontaneous explosions in utility tunnels, the end effect was launching heavy manhole covers like projectiles as the target vans passed on the roads overhead. I marvelled at how quickly R00tkid conceived of this plan, worked out how to implement it, and put it into action, becoming quite precise amazingly fast. It was like watching a virtuoso gamer instantly pick up a difficult game moments after first encountering it. His face was an odd mix of intense concentration and deep satisfaction at his quick mastery. I knew that he was keenly aware this was no videogame. Still, the skills he had honed as a geeky kid, served him well in protecting countless scores ...perhaps hundreds of innocent bystanders from getting caught up in Bill Lynch's savage wargames.

I helped by disrupting communication channels. The goon's command center had no idea that their plan was rapidly falling apart. The only chaos actually unleashed was on them. None of the strike teams could get through to report failure of their prime objective and seek alternate orders. And these folks were not trained to show initiative or think for themselves. In fact they were brutally conditioned NOT to think for themselves. So, barring any orders, they just waited. Harmlessly.

The one mission that DID get through was the prime team sent to retrieve the target. Only they didn't lose communication. They just had their communication – and their orders – adjusted. By us.

The original orders were to 'nab' the target, but they were to specify that this was not in fact a hostile, but the Director. Making this not a kidnapping, but a rescue. The mission would remain the same until contact. At that point, the Director would be treated as a valuable recovered asset, not a prisoner. However R00tkid and I decided to 'tweak' the orders. The rendition team was informed that they were grabbing an enemy hostile who had infiltrated the organization by being a doppelganger for the director. He was to be renditioned 'with extreme prejudice'.

Maybe I should have felt hesitation, or at least ambivalence about lowering myself to his level, but after thinking about what that son of a bitch did to me. Destroying my life and God knows how many others, any trepidation lasted less than an instant. I felt no desire for vengeance. But I was completely bereft of any sympathy or compassion for this brutal sociopath.

“Sir. Supplemental orders.” The young man sitting next to the van driver handed the LCD back through the panel.

“About time.” The commander keyed in the decryption code. “Son of a BITCH!”

He addressed the 5 commandos riding with him in the back.

“Looks like we've got ourselves a mole.” He scowled.

He explained about the imposter masquerading as the director. How he didn't know his cover was blown, and would act like the actual director. How C&C uncovered the deception, and how he was to be brought back for extreme debrief at all costs. The rest of his crew simply nodded. No matter how outlandish their mission, they were trained and drilled to follow orders. Understanding things was above their paygrade.

Bill Lynch saw the plain white van turn into the alley so he stepped out from behind the dumpster and flagged them down.

“Jesus. TOOK you long....”

“ON YOUR KNEES” the commando bellowed.

“What the FU..” Lynch began to berate them as the other commando jabbed his rifle butt into the base of Lynch's spine, collapsing him like a folding chair.

“I'm gonna FRY your as..”

“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!!!” the third commando screamed as the tazer pins deeply pierced Lynch's chest from extremely close range.

While the seizing body convulsed in on itself, special forces commander Joaquim 'Jock' Montillo turned the body over with his foot, rolling it into a shallow puddle, which sparked and sizzled from the tazer leads. He took a good look at the mole, who was the spit and image of the director, and wondered what the bastards had done with the real director. He wondered if they'd ever get it out of the mole, who seemed to be choking on his swallowed tongue. A swift, hard kick in the sternum with his combat boot and the mole's face exploded with a burst of air, his mangled bloody tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dogs.

“Get the traitor in the van and let's get out of here.” he barked.

Aaron intercepted the 'Package acquired' message and stopped blocking the communications to the rest of the Alpha team, who immediately began calling in and receiving their updated orders, which amounted to 'mission accomplished - return immediately.' They needed the open channels to coordinate the retrieval of all the disabled vans and the teams within. Quickly SIMon indicated the deployment of sizable fleets of Black Navigators and Escalades from the same parking garages to the sites of every disabled van. If any bystander did see the teams in their full combat gear and weaponry, Aaron felt sure it would be explained away by the response Lynch himself triggered with that stunt at the Senate office building.

'The roaches are all returning to the motel' Eve chuckled to herself. No matter if Aaron wouldn't let her publicly call it 'operation roach motel' … to herself, she could call it whatever she damned well pleased.

When the van arrived at the sealed loading dock, Clark Dayton recoiled in horror when the back door burst open and Bill Lynch's broken body exploded from the back as the commandos hurled him like a sack of rice into the steel pillar.

“What the fuck?” Dayton just glared at the commander. “What the FUCK????”

Jock Montillo beamed at the duty officer “Got your package sir. Nice and tidy.”

Dayton just stared at him.

“What the FUCK?????”

“Sir?”

“What the fuck happened to him?”

“Well sir” a corpsman smirked. “ he might have slipped and fell.”

“...or injured himself trying to escape” smiled another

“Jesus CHRIST! You were under specific orders.....”

“Yes SIR!” beamed the commander. “Apprehend with extreme prejudice.”

“Apprehend?.... but.... NO!.... What the FUCK???? This is the goddamned director!”

“No sir. That's the mole we were sent to retrieve. Does look just LIKE the director though, don't he sir?” he grinned.

“No. Nonononononono NO! ….oh fuck.... oh christ... there IS no MOLE.... this is the goddamned DIRECTOR! ”

“No sir. Our orders were to apprehend the mole. Damn good copy, huh? He even acted just like...”

“That's because he IS the goddamned director, you stupid sonofabitch!!!!” Dayton was frantic.

“No sir.” he smiled indulgently, pulling the LCD with the orders from his pocket. “He's a mole. Our orders specifically state...”

“Goddamit, there WERE no orders! There IS no mole! This is the Goddamned director! Jesus Christ. We're all royally fucked!”

“No sir.” the commander was unflappable.... as trained... “our orders....”

“There WERE no orders! I give the goddamned orders! And I sure as HELL didn't give any goddamned orders about any goddamned MOLE! Your orders were to retrieve the director....”

“Sir?” The commander respectfully proffered the LCD again. Dayton yanked it from him and threw it hard against the steel pillar, where it shattered into countless pieces.

“Goddamit. Don't you GET it? Someone's FUCKING with us. You just beat the living SHIT out of the goddamned DIRECTOR!!! Jesus.... we're all fucked.”

“Oh shit sir.” The commander's face fell as he finally got it.

“For fuck's sake, don't just stand there.... get him to the infirmary!!!”

The commander sprang to action and barked at his corpsmen “GO.. GO... GO!!!!!” as they picked up the limp moaning body and ran to the elevator.

It was about 40 minutes later when Bill Lynch staggered into C&C. He was barely recognizable. He walked up to Clark Dayton and stared at him through saucer sized pupils.

“Jesus Christ I'm sorry sir. I had no idea. Goddamn, I was just following your orders. I sent the message exactly as you said. Someone must have...”

“That pencil dick little cocksucker” Lynch spat out in a rasp. “Fuck him. Fuck him and his whole goddamn fucking nerd army. Time to take that little corpsefucker down. He wants to bite the big dog, huh? Well fuck him. Fuck them all.”

He staggered to a console and leaned in for a retina scan. Which failed. He punched the camera into the console and wiped his now bloody hand on his shirt as he placed it on the biometric scanner. When the secondary log-in came on screen, he pounded in his credentials and waited while the screen quickly flashed page after page of security protocol overrides.

He leaned into the console and with his one unbroken finger stabbed in “ROOT. SYS. RUN: Damocles”

The screen flickered for a few minutes more and then everyone's console winked out for a moment and resumed. Except the one Bill Lynch sat at. It simply displayed LILITH.ROOT.SYS.\ RUN Damocles | Are you SURE? {Y/N}

Bill Lynch screamed so loudly the entire room stopped and turned “Fuck YES I'm sure!” and let out a wail as he stabbed the “Y” key.

Once again, all the consoles in the room winked. Only this time they all refreshed to display the same message.

LILITH.ROOT.SYS.Damocles. - executing

“Oh ho HO!” Aaron exclaimed, glancing from the alarm that chirped on his monitor.

“He did it! That dirty evil slimy dirtbag actually DID it!!!” He jumped from his chair and pumped his fist in the air.

“He DIDN'T???” I exclaimed. I wanted to believe it.... and Bill Lynch was by far the nastiest excuse for a human being I'd ever encountered, but even I ….after all he'd done to me.... couldn't imagine that he was capable of triggering the end of the world as we knew it. Or at least thinking he did.

“Oh, dammit.... I would so LOVE to be there to witness this!” He shouted triumphantly.

“I wouldn't want to be within miles of that place when all this goes down.” I shuddered.

“Yeah. Actually you're right. It's going to get really ugly, really fast. Put out the word, we've got to get all our resources on line immediately!”

So I sent the GO code. A seemingly simple tweet from a dormant account, directing all our scattered colleagues and their resources ...personal or comandeered... to fortify the mesh net running the Damocles sim.

“What just happened?” Clark Dayton said to Bill Lynch. Who stared right through him with his saucer like eyes. “What the hell did they give you sir?”

“Something for the pain” he gargled out past his sutured tongue “Not fucking enough” and he motioned for his minion to follow him as he walked from Command and Control and turned down the corridor that led to the detention wing.

They arrived at the detention wing where Lynch and his number 2 were waved through and he strode – as much as his broken body would permit, to a cell containing his 'retrieval team'.

The commander turned to him with a stricken face and said “Jesus Christ sir! We were just following....”

Lynch swung the Glock from his holster and blew a hole through the commander's larynx.

“Shut the fuck up!” he rasped. The commander, sprawled against the wall and gushing blood from his severed carotid artery just gazed at Lynch through wide, glassy eyes. The other three commandos instantly sprang to their feet, despite their arms being shackled behind their backs.

“You!” Lynch whispered and shot one through both kneecaps. “That's for the rifle butt.”

His comrades looked straight ahead as their brother collapsed to the cell floor. These guys were WELL trained.

“Like your little taser asshole?” He spat as he shot the next soldier in the groin. And smirked at the howl before he punched him in the throat, crushing his windpipe and silencing him.

“Thanks for not letting me choke on my tongue motherfucker” he said to the last soldier as he pressed the barrel under his ribcage and aimed up for the base of his skull through his torso.

Clark Dayton swallowed hard. He knew the director was tough as nails and intolerant of failure, but even he hadn't been able to imagine what he just witnessed.

Bill Lynch turned to him and gurgled through his swollen, sutured tongue. “I'm not the sadistic motherfucker you all think. After all, they were just following orders.” and he quickly shot each one between the eyes, abruptly ending their misery. Then he turned back to his second in command “...YOUR orders...” and delivered his last bullet through the brain.

Command and Control was in a frenzy. No systems were responsive, yet they were able to monitor SIMon and their media taps, witnessing the havoc taking place in the world outside the bunker. Nuclear powerplant meltdowns, planes hurtling from the skies as their autopilots quickly aimed them at the ground or into buidings. Crude Oil tankers discharging their cargoes in the middle of the ocean. Satellites de-orbiting speading supersonic schrapnel throughout air corridors and raining bits of debris like machine gun bullets onto major cities, Power grids collapsing, Hydro dams opening their gates, sweeping away surrounding communities in a wall of water, internet backbones shutting down, virtually killing all communications since everything these days touched the internet somewhere. Absolute havoc and pandemonium everywhere... but this was no cyber attack... not even a worst case scenario from a wargame. This was happening everywhere. In every nation that could be monitored. All at once.

It was only a matter of time. Everyone knew this. With all the other hell that was breaking loose, no one was surprised by the final development. The contrails were unmistakable. Arsenals had been deployed while they still could be. Whether by the same malfunction that had sabotaged everything else, or as a deliberate action by someone with the authority who panicked when everything else went to hell, the missiles were in the air. Confirmed both incoming and outgoing. Who fired first was irrelevant. Everything was going to shit incomprehensibly fast. Within three hours, four thousand years of human progress would be seared away. Those who tried to call their loved ones found all outside communication lost. Despite the psych evals, some of the staff actually became so disconsolate that they used their service weapons on themselves.

The others huddled to see how long they could survive within the sealed bunker before venturing out into whatever was left of the world.

Imagine their surprise five months later, after using every means necessary to survive – including using the quickly preserved carcasses of the suicides and prisoners as food stock, when they finally broke the seal of their bunker to face the devastation they had created and were greeted by a squad of federal marshals.

Bill Lynch was a survivor and damned proud of it. Let those damned lemmings rot in their living crypt. He was heading for the hills. He made it out of the bunker before the Damocles safety protocols would have sealed the place. He still thought it likely that Damocles was actually executing, but if that dog-blowing little poindexter had managed to tamper with even Damocles, at least he wouldn't be caught in the trap when the damned cops raided the damned bunker.

It took weeks, and every resource he had, but Lynch was nothing if not thorough. He had scattered enough survival resources in enough places that he could get anywhere he needed to be. He knew within a day that Damocles had failed. That did not deter him from his omega plan. If anything, it strengthened his resolve. His resources got him across the border and off the damned grid. He made his way from safe house to safe house as he worked his way further south.

They were expecting him when he finally arrived at his final destination. The former FARC commander brought him to the hut that had been prepared for him and congratulated him on his escape from the jaws of the imperialist dog impudent enough to turn on its master. Lynch nodded his assent. The abscess on what was left of his tongue made it too painful to speak casually. Instructing the guerrillas became an exercise in willpower and discipline, and every student recognized the effort the master put into teaching them his brutal arts. They were recruited from all over... Asia, Africa, the Middle East and the Balkans, throughout South and Central America and even 'citizen-militia' brigades scattered across the northern plains of the US and Canada. They came to learn from the master. They came to be tested and tempered, and those who survived his savage combat school, could name their price in mercenary services anywhere in the world. They were the best of the best. The most brutal of the brutal.

The commandante congratulated his old benefactor on a job well done. There was not a drug gang or separatist group in the world who would not pay top dollar for these first-rate human weapons. They had proved their worth by surviving his training. By enduring the torture and abuse he used to 'temper and tutor' them. He assured the commandante that he taught them everything he knew.
The commandante nodded and addressed the 'graduating class'... congratulating them on surviving their ordeal and proving themselves worthy. They would be sent into the field as soon as they finished their final test. Demonstrating everything they had been taught on their old teacher to make sure he wasn't holding out and had indeed taught them everything he knew. If he had any secrets left, he would surely divulge them by the time they were through with him. Or they would be lost forever.
With that, four 'students' began to draw and quarter Bill Lynch while another set the oil to boil and the last sharpened the flaying knife.

While the goons were panicking in their sealed bunker watching the convincingly real doomsday simulations, and Lynch was slithering his way toward the southern border, R00tkid and Eve turned their attention back to the national news media.

Bloomberg and CNBC were reporting turmoil in the futures markets as seismic waves were rippling through petroleum and grain exchanges after the leak of confidential reports regarding the actual state of oil reserves and harvest estimates.

Monetary exchanges were reeling when massive debt attributed to non-aligned countries, forcing drastic currency devaluation, was revealed to be the result of faulty financial algorithms. Economists would spend weeks sorting through the forensics of the analytic code, but trillions in debt to world banks and international financial organizations vanished from the books like a mirage at dusk.

The political channels were ignoring these headlining events because they were dealing with an avalanche of revelations of their own.

The Guardian blog about Senator Forrest started a frenzy of fingerpointing among parties mentioned in the expose, while Senator Forrest himself remained elusive, no doubt in hiding while his organization formulated some approach to spin control.

The search for the evasive Senator itself was overshadowed by the tsunami of 'leaks' involving multinational corporations and hostile nation states, human trafficking and outright slavery in third world manufacturing compounds, massive environmental contamination and veritable laundry lists of corrupt officials tasked with keeping these violations quiet.

Then there were the reports of the private 'think tanks' covertly fomenting and funding religious and ethnic extremist groups to incite genocides, effectively removing uncooperative parties, and once the extermination was complete, procuring extensive (and lucrative) military support for the war against the 'genocidal extremists'.

There weren't enough news channels or talking heads to cover the fire hose of revelations that seemed to be gushing from every imaginable source.

“My only real concern is information overload” Aaron confessed to Eve. “This iceberg's been building for so long, I worry that by exposing the whole thing, people won't be able to wrap their heads around the enormity of the corruption and manipulation. If people just close their eyes to the truth we expose, nothing will have changed.”

She took his chin in her hand and turned him to look her in the eye.

“Even if that does happen ...and I'm not convinced it will.... You HAVE rebooted the world. That iceberg you mentioned... all those shadowy secrets... all that corruption and duplicity and manipulation... all those diverted funds have been returned to those from whom they were stolen. Every corrupt official stands naked in the sunlight to anyone who chooses to look. The puppet regimes and terrorist groups have had all their strings and connections made visible. Honesty and integrity may not trump corruption and deceit... but you have reset the game. Both sides are starting from scratch. The white hats with the resources that had been stolen from them, and the black hats without their ill-gotten gain. It's up to people to give a damn, and open their eyes, and see the shadowy world you have exposed, and decide, now that we're restarting from a level playing field, if they want to do things differently the next time around.”

“And if they don't?”

“Don't take this the wrong way lover...” she smiled “but though you're the most ….gifted, courageous, decent human being I've ever met.... you won't be the last of your breed. Who knows? Maybe one of your heirs will pick up the torch if it's needed.”

“I won't have any heirs. Haven't you figured it out by now? There's no one for me but you. Never had been. Never will be. I never imagined you'd be a real flesh and blood woman.”

“Or that I wouldn't be without you?”

Aaron laughed hard and bitterly. “I will never make peace with myself over that.”

“You must. I have. Without knowing. Without trying. You made it possible for me to live the life I never thought possible.”

Aaron stifled a bitter laugh. “At what cost? I destroyed your old life.”

“Wasn't doing anything with it. Not missing it.”

“I put you through hell.”

“You didn't. THEY did. And it's far enough behind me ...thanks to YOU Doctor Bishop...” she smiled

Aaron grunted morosely.

“...that I can say that the scars are stronger and more resilient than the original tender flesh.”

“Don't start quoting Nietsche on me...” he chuckled ruefully.

“No need to tell you what you already know. You were consumed by the system too. And like me, you turned your tribulation into strength and beat them at their own game.”

“They did it to themselves.”

“Wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Or you.”

“Or her.” Eve pointed to the thumbdrive with the 3V3 overlay.

“You wouldn't be here if not for her.” R00tkid whispered softly into Eve's ear.

“And I will be eternally grateful to her for that. And for the other thing...”

“What?”

“She will be the one who will give you the heirs you need to keep up the good fight. They will be your legacy... her offspring.... with you.... and maybe a little help from uncle SIMon and aunt LILITH...” she winked. “They will be the ones to guard against what you set right ever going wrong again.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Well, I can't be jealous of 3V3 for giving you what I never can. Still, I hope she won't become jealous of me if I can give you something she never could?” Eve said, wrapping her arm around his back and snuggling her head into Aarons chest.

“How could she possibly be jealous? You know, she's your biggest fan....”

I don't know what possessed me to do it. I never go out alone. Well, I never go out clubbing alone. But try as I might, I couldn't talk any of my girlfriends into a spontaneous night on the town. It probably didn't help that it was a Thursday and they all had work in the morning. Still, I had been working all day and I desperately needed a change of scene. So I made up my mind, tucked my pepper-spray into my purse, and decided to check out that new place that I'd been hearing about.

St@t!c was right on the edge of the north village.. In a kind of DMZ border zone between the hip gentrified tourist trap of oldetowne and the row houses that once housed the families of shipyard workers, but were now mostly off campus housing for students from the art college to the west and state tech a few miles east. It was an interesting social experiment, throwing the sports obsessed civil engineering and agriculture majors together with the design and drama kids from UAE - the loftily named 'University of Aesthetic Endeavor'. The students kidded that UAE really meant 'Unemployable Absolutely Everywhere'. But they all fought hard to be admitted, and no one ever thought of transferring. So a few blocks from this social stew of art nerds and blue collar jocks, in a neutral zone of a few blocks still mostly made up of muffler shops, nail salons, strip mall bail bondsmen and walk in law offices, someone got the brainstorm to turn an old neighborhood gin mill into a sports bar. And when that failed, they tried to lure the art kids by turning it into an EDM club called St@t!c.

I'd heard interesting things about it, mostly that it showed promise but probably wouldn't last the month before the fickle owner gave up and turned it into a tiki bar or something else that seemed trendy. So I knew I had to act fast.

There was more of a line than I expected when my cab pulled up, but from the look of the people waiting, they hadn't got the memo that it was no longer a sports bar. Much to my surprise, I was beckoned by the door guy. On my perplexed look, he smiled and pointed to the handmade "Ladies Night" sign by the door. I returned his smile. Business wasn't great so they had to stock the club with bait. The moment I stepped from the cab alone, I caught the door guy's eye and was fast-tracked inside. The night was off to a promising start.

It was really loud inside. Or maybe it wasn't so much loud, as the sound system wasn't very good and the EDM was rather painful and rattle-y. It was also quite dark. I think they were trying to pass it off as atmosphere, but my suspicion was that it was really to hide the fact that it still mostly looked like a sports bar, only now all the big screens were pulsing with swirling graphics that were loosely synced to the music.

I found my way over to the bar and ordered my usual - especially for nights when I was out on my own, and tried to check out the crowd through the dim haze.

"First time here?" the voice shouted at me over the music.

I smiled and nodded. "Does anyone ever come back?" I yelled back.

She threw her head back with a laugh that looked loud but was inaudible over the music.

"Really!" she grinned over the distorted beats blasting from the cleared area that passed for a dance floor.

"I really wanted to check this place out!" She hollered.

"Me too!" I shouted back. And shrugged with a smile. "Now we know!"

She laughed silently again, over powered by the music. "I guess my friends were right! None of them would come out with me!"

I smiled in sympathy. "Yeah. But it IS a Thursday... and they probably have work or school!"

She nodded. "I have no Friday classes... AND I was feeling frisky... so I figured What The Hell?"

As I was about to speak, a bunch of big guys in letter jackets loped up to us.

"HEY BABES!" one of them said waving and staring goofily. It was immediately apparent these guys were all one jagermeister shot away from an ER visit for alcohol poisoning.

The girl beside me flashed a finger wave and a polite if not enthusiastic smile.
"Where you boys from?" she mouthed pointing at their jackets.

"STATE!" one of them bellowed. "WE KICKED YOU GUYSES ASS! AN' NOW WERE ON A PUB CRAWL!"

They all nodded as one.

"I hope this is your last pub. You boys better crawl home or maybe to the ER at Saint Barnaby's to get your stomachs pumped!" I hollered helpfully.

"PFFFFFF..... S'FINE.... WE'RE JUST GETTIN' STARTED. GONNA SEE THE WHOLE TOWN!" another yelled.

The beefy guy with a buzz-cut leaned in to my new friend, squinting and moving his head like he was focusing a lens.

"HEY! Y'KNOW YOU'RE REALLY CUTE! THAT'S A REALLY ROCKIN'..." and he leaned in as if he was about to face-plant in her cleavage, and ....EXPLODED!

Obviously these guys had done more than drinking. Chili and nachos with cheese had apparently been their insurance against excessive alcohol. Well, that plan backfired. Literally.

My companion leaped back startlingly fast, but she was not fast enough to completely avoid the appetizer eruption.

"JEE-SUS!" she spat and shot a glare at the guy who seemed just as stunned and still not quite aware that this fountain of disgustingness was still spewing from him.

"HEY!" I waved my arms to the bartender, who snapped to and beckoned some burly guys to swoop in and spirit our 'frat-pack' outside.

I grabbed my still stunned companion by the elbow and rushed her toward the ladies, but not before signaling the bartender that I wanted another drink.

I swooped by the bar on the way to the back corridor and mouthed that I'd square up on the way back. He gestured 'on the house' with a rueful smile as we rushed to the restroom.

As soon as we got inside I grabbed some paper towels and spun to the sink.

"Damn. You're fast!" I laughed as I handed her some damp paper towels.

"Not fast enough" she said tight lipped, balancing anger and mortification.

"Anyone else and we'd be picking chunks out of her hair and burning her shoes!
That guy exploded like a vile pinata. You have mad ninja skills!" I grinned.

That finally brought a laugh. And a sigh.

"Shit. This was a brand new top! That's kinda why I wanted to come out tonight. I just bought it, and I thought it was super sexy, and maybe could be a lucky top. I thought I'd see if it could attract...."

"It sure DID attract!" I interrupted with a laugh "...more like totally absorbed!"

She shot me a pout. "And now it's, like, totally ruined!"

"Yeah. You'll probably have to burn or bury it." I teased. "I thought maybe I could get the stain out, but...."

"What are you dabbing?" she glanced at my drink. "Is that vodka?"

I shook my head as I squeezed the dripping citrus wedge over a stain. "Club soda... always the safest drink on a night out ....and SO versatile!" I grinned as I dipped more paper towel in and continued squeegeeing the goo off her once-pretty top."

"Oh, God. I can't go out there looking like this!" she scowled at her badly stained top."I don't even want to catch a cab home wearing this!"

I dug around in my purse."I think I can help." I muttered as she shot me a perplexed look.

"What do you have in there that can help THIS?" she almost whined staring down at her ruined top.

"Contraband!" I grinned wickedly, and thrust out my hand.

She tilted her head and slowly reached out for my hand. It took her a moment as she unfolded it muttering to herself 'contraband?'

"They're illegal in this town now." I beamed to her. "That's why I always carry my own stash."

I saw the recognition slowly develop across her face like an old Polaroid photo as she unfolded the disposable cellulose shopping bag. Finally she smiled at me.

"Put THAT in there" I directed pointing to her shirt and the bag.

Her eyes went wide as she prepared to point out the obvious, but I cut her off.

"Annd..." I said quickly peeling off my bomber jacket and handing it to her. "Put this on."

Her eyes stayed wide. Only now I think it was at the fact that a near total stranger was giving her the shirt ...well, jacket... off their back.

"Oh my god. Really?" She asked with a tinge of disbelief.

I smiled and nodded. "And if you plan on staying, zip it down a bit. That's a really cute bra and it would be a really hot look."

She blushed and shook her head. "No. I just want to go home and shower until dawn."

I nodded and smiled.

"I can't believe you gave me your jacket!" she gushed.

"Well, you couldn't very well go back out there in only your bra." I smiled. "Besides. I've got a little more coverage"

"Not much" she grinned.

I twisted and regarded myself in the mirror. The white halter bodysuit was a bit much. Or more accurately a bit not-enough. The front was full but thin as film and showed every goose-bump, and the back was cut so low it disappeared below black jeans, exposing the band of my thong. I scowled, pushing the underwear down and trying to tug my jeans up when my new clothes companion gasped.

I turned to her knowing what was coming.

"Is that a... did I just see a peek of.... um...."

"...'Tramp stamp' is cool. That's what it is." I sighed. She blushed. "Let's just say that Absinthe and I are no longer friends." I sagged a bit. She came closer.

"Not to be nosy... but may I see? I've never seen a real one on a real...."

"Tramp?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and sardonic smile.

"Oh, God NO!" she flustered. "I mean I've seen them in pictures and thought they were kind of cool, but I don't know anyone who was bold enough.."

"..or DRUNK enough.." I interrupted with raised finger. She blushed again.

"I've just never seen a REAL one!" she gushed. Then got really shy. "....may I?...."

I reached back and tugged down the waist of the jeans to expose the full tat.

"Oh, Wow! It's really pretty!" she said softly.

I shrugged. "Thank God all my friends are artists, so even if they would let me get blind drunk and get a tramp stamp, they would NOT let me get a bad one."

"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly.

"Everyday" I admitted.

"But it's so pretty!" she looked at me SO earnestly. "And it's not like everyone will see it. Only someone special"

"Like a stranger in a bathroom?" I snarked, She turned crimson and I suddenly felt terrible."OK. I'll confess. I really like it too." I smiled and she seemed to relax a bit. "But it really complicates my life. If the wrong person saw it by accident...." I blanched at the thought. She mercifully changed the subject.

"When you said stranger in a bathroom, I realized I never even introduced myself" she smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Tina"

"No worries" I smiled back."even if you told me out there" I tilted my head toward the door "I wouldn't have heard you anyway. Chloe."

We shook and Tina gushed. "God, Chloe, I'm SO glad I met you! If I hadn't... oh God.... " she eyed the bomber jacket up and down "...I don't know what I'd have done!"

"Well, if you'd been alone, maybe you'd have met a nice guy who wanted to meet the cute girl in the sexy top" I teased. "...instead of that pack of drunken doofuses."

She smiled and said "Give me your phone." I thought I knew what she was up to and was right. She rang herself and entered my name in her contact list. I entered her number from my call log into my own contact list.

"I'll get this dry cleaned and call you when it's ready." she smiled.

"That's really not ness...." I began to wave my hand dismissively but she cut me off.

"Nonsense! I'll call you in a few days. But right now, I just want to get home." she flashed a weary smile.

"Me too." I smiled.

We both called cabs from the ladies and waited there until they arrived. Tina was nice enough to wait with me since I did not want to hang out in the noisy club in my bodysuit that looked painted on, flashing my trampstamp. We walked with arms around each others waists and maybe people thought there was something going on there, but really it was just Tina's brilliant ploy to cover my tat with her arm in the bulky jacket sleeve. I was quite grateful for that and thought that any favor I did loaning her my jacket was more than repaid by her covering my immodest ink.

She smiled at me as she got into her cab. "Surprisingly, this was a good night."

I cocked my head quizzically.

"...Not remotely what I had intended... I got barfed on in a crappy club, and I didn't get CLOSE to getting laid..." she grinned. "...but I think maybe I made a friend." and she shot me a radiant smile I couldn't help but return.

"Hmmph.... I guess it was a good night." I agreed.

She flashed a finger wave and ducked into her cab.

As I got into my own cab and tried to ignore the drivers fixation on my too thin top, I thought to myself. "Maybe we both made a friend tonight. That's gonna complicate things."

***

Tina called a couple of days later. I was standing in line at Starbucks and saw her caller ID. I had to let it go to voice mail.

I called her when I got back home.

"Hey, Chloe! I have your jacket as promised. I thought maybe we could get together for lunch or coffee or something. Oh, wait. I have no idea where you live. Are you close to the U?"

"Not that far. Sure. Where did you want to meet and when?"

"How about 'Freshies'? Do you know it? It's that salad place on Carver Court? Or is there someplace you'd prefer?"

"No. Freshies sounds fine. Never been there but I'm sure I can find it with my GPS. What time?"

"Does 4 work for you? My classes get out by 3:30 so I can...."

"4 is fine."

"Oh, there's indoor and outdoor seating, if I get there first do you have a preference?"

"It's a nice day. Are you OK with outside?"

"Sure! I've spent all day cooped up in classes. The fresh air will be nice."

"So. Fourish at Freshies. See you then."

"I'll be outside if I get there first. Just look for me." she chirped.

"OK. See you then." I said in my most pleasant voice. She was definitely going to get there first. I had to handle my entrance carefully.

Freshie's was easy to find and Tina was sitting at a table by the hedges that bordered the sidewalk. I told the hostess I was meeting someone who I already spotted from the street, so she waved me thru to meet my party.

I walked around to Tina's table. She paid me no attention as I snaked through the tables on the patio until I was nearly at her table. Only then did she shoot me a confused glance. Her look got really confused when I pulled out a chair and seated myself.

"We need to talk" I dove in instantly in my 'business voice'.

She stared at me with furrowed brow. "Excuse me? Um this table's taken."

"I know, Tina." I smiled. Pointing at the bagged jacket hanging from the empty chair.

"Are you a friend of Chloe's?" She shot me a curious look and then stared me up and down like she was scanning a counterfeit bill. "Are you related? Is she your sister? I can see the resemblance." she began to relax.

I smiled. "No. We're not.... she's not my sister." I laughed at my near slip. This only confused her more.

"Oh. But she sent you to pick up her jacket?"

I nodded.

"We really need to talk. Shall we do it over food?"

Tina nodded distractedly. I ordered a kale salad with an unsweetened iced tea. She quirked an eyebrow.

"They have a really hearty vegan chili. And onion soup. ....and nachos...."

I shook off her suggestions. "I'm good with the salad." I smiled. She then ordered a Cobb salad and iced chai and our server dashed off.

"I'm surprised you can even say nachos... let alone suggest them" I smiled. She went crimson.

"You KNOW?" she looked mortified.

"Kinda hard to forget." I smiled. She shot me a blank stare.

"Chloe told you? She must have gone into lurid detail because even you look freaked." she whispered

I let out a heavy sigh. "I thought I knew how I was going to do this, and played it out in my head all the way over here..."

Tina continued the blank stare.

I stood and held out my hand. "Hi Tina. I'm Tom. Tom Saville." She shook robotically.

"Are you Chloe's boyfriend?"

The laugh caught me by surprise, exploding before I could stem it and causing all heads to turn. I felt my own face flush.

"Not even close." I finally managed to gasp out through my stifled chest heaves.
I scratched my head. My original plan was totally derailed. I needed to improvise. Suddenly I had a flash. And a flash it was.

"This isn't working." I smiled to Tina. "I thought I knew how to do this. But I don't. I think I need to tie my shoe." I shrugged apologetically.

I pulled out my chair and also untucked my shirt tails and tee. I turned to Tina and said quietly "Apologies in advance" and turned away to raise my foot to the chair, bending over to untie and carefully retie my shoe. I also took the liberty of scrunching up the back of my shirts, my back to Tina who I really hoped did not think I was about to moon her. Still, it was a really rude gesture, and I thought I'd screwed it up until I heard her little gasped 'eep'. I sat back in my seat and calmly addressed the saucer-eyed Tina.

"Now do you get why I regret that tatoo?" I smirked.

She went pale and continued to stare. I said nothing. Just giving her time to process.

The server came with our drinks and salads. I politely thanked her and proceeded to mix in my balsamic dressing.

Tina remained speechless. I could not read the expression on her face, but it was fixed. The only thing that moved were her eyes, which continued to scan me up and down, stopping now and then to really bore into something.
I calmly ate my salad and sipped my tea, giving her as much time as she needed.

"I... uh.... Oh my God.... you're so different!"

"Only on the outside." I smiled quietly.

Tina continued to stare.

"How.... how long?"

"All my life." I smiled.

"No. I mean.... how long since you.... God... you knew all your life?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Oh, god. When you were little......"

I shrugged. "Yeah. It was pretty confusing.... and kinda rough at times...." I understated.

"Oh my God. I can't imagine! When.... when did you finally ....ummmm... is Come Out the right word?"

I nodded. "Sure. I get what you mean. Well... obviously.... I'm not completely.... out."

Her eyes went wide again. It was obvious in hindsight. The other night she met Chloe. Today she was sitting with Tom. I was far from fully out.

"It must be so ....hard!"

I nodded. "It's at least ...complicated...."

"Ohmigod. So do you... do you work?"

I nodded. "They know me as Tom."

She swallowed. "And where you live....."

"Yeah. That's one of the complications. I have roommates I've known since I was a kid. They have no idea."

She stared at me. "How can they?.... Um, DUH!...." she smiled. "I had no idea, and even when you flashed me...." she gave me a look of uncertainty about her choice of words.

I smiled. "Thanks for not saying 'nearly mooned me'"

She relaxed and laughed. "Even then, it took me the longest time. And I have to be honest.... I'm still having a hard time seeing it.... you're so.... different!"

"Only on the outside" I repeated with a smile.

"And your family....."

I winced. Which said it all. "It should have been obvious to them since I was about three..... but they remain stubbornly clueless. And I have no idea how to talk to them."

She reached out and put her hand over mine. I gave her a brave smile as she gave it a squeeze.

"They're pretty heavily invested in the fiction. Since they created it when I was a baby and just keep doubling down whenever they start to see through the facade." I sighed.

"Oh, honey!" she said softly, then caught herself. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "Tom may be embarrassed by that outburst, but it warmed Chloe's heart" I flashed a conflicted smile.

"So. The other night, I thought to myself 'girl, you may have got puked on but maybe you also met a really cool friend.'" She said quietly staring at me.

I slumped in my seat, eyes boring into the ground, waiting for the rest.

"But I guess I was wrong."

I hung my head lower, hoping she would only feel disappointed and not outright betrayed.

"Looks like I made TWO friends" she grinned goofily.

***

Over the next two weeks, Tina and I truly did become friends. She called a few more times and always caught me at work, which meant she always got 'Tom'. But she seemed OK with that. I'd catch a smoothie and salad with her if she didn't have classes when I got my lunch break. Sometimes I'd meet her straight from work for a coffee or light snack & always lots of conversation.

I mentioned to her that I felt that we really were becoming friends.

She beamed and said I was her best friend since she moved to school.

I raised my eyes slowly, wondering if I wanted what I just heard so badly that I deliberately mis-heard. Tina's grin assured me that I heard her right.

The wonder and relief on my face must have been obvious because her grin erupted into a beaming smile as she reached out again and gave my hand a long tight squeeze.

"So 'Tom'..." I could hear the air quotes in her bubbly voice. "...tell me about yourself. You said you work as Tom..."

I nodded. Still a bit dazed.

"So where do you work?"

"I'm um.... a bike courier... and I work part time at office oasis...."

She nodded. "So you're a salesclerk."

I shrugged. "I work the custom printing desk. Business card design, banners, logo decals...." I flashed an embarrassed smile "four years of art college to sell people logo doodles for their corolla".

Tina smiled back. "Hey, at least you're using your skills."

I scowled a little. "Kind of like Professor X working as a strip mall fortune teller."

Tina lit up. "You're a comic book guy!" she crowed.

I reflexively tensed. This was something I learned long ago not to brag about. But while I expected the usual contempt, she seemed genuinely pleased. I quickly calmed.

"....AND a comic book girl" I said quietly.

Her eyes sparkled as she regarded me. "You're like a special edition! Same content but two collectible covers!"

I don't know whether it was her unrestrained enthusiasm or her unexpected analogy, but her glee was infectious and I returned her joyful smile.

***

So my good deed went unpunished for a change. And the stranger I let use my new jacket returned it, freshly dry cleaned. And she expressed an interest in being friends, even after learning about Tom.

I don't honestly consider myself a pessimist, but it's been my experience, when everything is going perfectly, the universe is often setting you up for a 'gotcha'. So I was wary and never took this budding friendship for granted, even after Tina texted "Hey! I'm out of classes. Any dinner plans?"

I texted her back that I was working, but if she was still interested by the time I got off, I'd love to.

I gave myself time to ride home and shower, but Dale and Colin were home, so I just rushed out, still kinda damp haired, to meet Tina.

"Hey you" she waved as I approached the restaurant. I smiled. I wasn't sure who she was expecting, but she seemed OK with it.

"Hi." I smiled as I squeezed through the ornamental barriers that separated the terrace from the street.

"I hope you don't mind Al Fresco again" she smiled. "You seemed OK with it the last time, and it's a beautiful evening."

I shook my head with a smile. "Not at all. It IS a beautiful evening. Why waste it?"

I sat down across from her looking for a reaction. If she had one, I couldn't read it. So I just came right out with it.

"I hope you don't mind catching a bite with Tom." I semi-whispered.

She shook her head with a smile. "No. It's all good. I figured it was 50/50 either way, but I'm good. You're good company ....however you...” she shrugged. I smiled. That was the nicest thing anyone had said to me in ages.

Still, I felt the need to explain - or was it an apology?

"Well, I came right after work.... and my roommate situation is ...erm... complicated." I flashed a conflicted smile.

Tina's eyebrow went up. "So they don't know?"

"Oh GOD no!" Chloe exclaimed far too loudly. Heads turned. I froze and felt all the blood leave my face.

Tina just burst into the widest smile I've ever seen.

I tried to turn invisible. But staying still seemed to work just as well. The crowd looked around to see where the outburst came from, but seeing only me and Tina, they just kept scanning. I felt their attention linger and move on. Tina gave nothing away.

"Oh wow. That is so amazing!" she whispered to me. “The way you were just... it was just...."

I was mortified. I said in a near mutter. "Sorry. Sometimes Chloe just slips out if I'm distracted or startled or...."

"Get caught off guard?" she smiled quietly.

I nodded with a shy grin. She got it. I don't know how, but she immediately got it.

"God, that must be so hard!" she said in the very hushed tone our conversation had taken.

I shrugged. "Not so hard anymore, I've been doing it... like, forever... but still really complicated. I just have to stay focused and always keep my guard up."

"And your roommates don't know.... so you never really have any downtime... not even at home.... That must be EXHAUSTING." she gave me the most sympathetic look.

"It's necessary" I sighed. Then smirked "At least until I win that MacArthur Genius grant ...or the lottery I never play. Still, at least I found a couple of jobs. I may be one of the few people in my graduating class who didn't have to move back with their parents."

Tina smiled. "Yeah. That sucks. I'm still in the dorms, and that has its own ....issues..." she grinned "but a least I'm not living at home or with roommates from hell."

"Mine aren't from hell.... just from.... my past. They know me one way and I'm not sure they could ever fully let go of that. They're OK but we're not really close, so I don't feel any need to even try to get them to see the ....complicated reality... of my situation. I just let them believe what they believe and we all leave each other alone."

She nodded. "Still, wouldn't it be nice if you had a place where you could just relax and be yourself without the need to pretend?"

I thought about it and maybe zoned out a bit at the blissful thought. Tina snapped me out of it.

"Looks like I hit a nerve." she smiled.

"Just a wall. I can't get there from where I am now."

"Sure you can. I've seen that confidence. You can eas...."

"It's not... not confidence. It's cash. I work two minimum wage jobs six days a week, sometimes seven if I get the chance, and sometimes both jobs in a very long day. Still I just make living expenses and not much more to bank for my dream place." I smiled sadly.

Tina nodded. "Or you could find cool roomies"

I laughed. "I could also track a leprechaun to steal his gold, or win a TV reality show. Both are more likely." I sounded mean and dismissive. I shot her an apologetic and forlorn look.

"How hard could it be?"

I smirked. "What, just put an ad on Craigslist: Transgender girl seeks cool people to move in with?"

She grimaced. "Yeah. I see your point."

"My living condition is...tolerable... my roomies aren't nosy and I keep a really low profile. Lucky for me they're kind of party fiends, so I usually have nights and mornings to myself. I can do this for a while."

Tina nodded. "Yeah, we have some hard partiers at the dorms too. I think you may have more peace and quiet than I do."

"Sounds like you're the one in need of a new place." I grinned.

"Someday" she said wistfully. "I'm starting training as a barista this week, and I have a few applications in at the mall. Maybe I can do that work too hard thing you do and scrape enough to afford my own place."

"Will it hurt your studies?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm on pretty solid ground. Most of this semesters classes I could ace in my sleep."

"You go to UAE?"

She shook her head. "Tech."

"Are you going to be a farmer or a petrochemical geologist?"

The laugh was so hard she sprayed little bits of food, then looked suitably mortified. "Oh, God no. English lit and marketing. My parents think it's so I can land a career in advertising or something, but I really want to write and market my own stuff... create my own brand."

I nodded. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't go to arts. They have a lot more creative writing and dramaturgy courses...."

"I'm comfortable with my creative." Tina smiled. "Maybe I'm too full of myself, but I really want to know how to push my brand, find my audience and carve out a liveable niche."

I nodded. "Yeah. Tech's business and marketing courses are probably better for actually making a living as a writer... provided you already know how to write."

Tina just pursed her lips into a thin smile. "I think I'm on solid ground in that department."

We finished our dinner and Tina asked if I was up for a movie. She really wanted to see this Lilly Tomlin movie about an old hippie who goes on a road trip with her pregnant granddaughter. None of her friends from school wanted to see it. She said they were more into movies like Bridesmaids & the new Ghostbusters.

"Sounds like a heartwarming relationship movie." I muttered.

She nodded.

"Translate: Chick Flick."

Tina rolled her eyes. I just gave her a little shoulder bump and a grin. "I'm in."

It was a good movie, even if we had to bus to the other side of town to see it at the art cinema in Park Vale. On our long bus ride, I learned a lot about her family and her background. She was the youngest and the only girl in her family. Her dad was ex military and all her brothers had or were currently serving too. It was a big thing in her family, going way back to WWI when her immigrant great granddad signed up to prove his patriotism. Her dad did his 20 and mustered out. He still had a lot of connections and was working as a security consultant. He dealt with a lot of corporate espionage stuff and had old special forces buddies who he farmed out as bodyguards for CEOs & celebrities.

"Your Dad sounds a little like Tony Stark." I teased.

"More like Nick Fury. He's more like the ringmaster than the aerialist or lion tamer" she laughed.

"So does he miss the service?" I asked.

Tina shrugged. "I don't think so. He still has lots of close contacts. I think the hardest thing for him is staying in one place for so long. I don't think he ever really got used to that. I know he did it for me. He couldn't do it for my brothers, but by the time I was old enough for school, he had done his 20, so he could muster out and settle down. I got to go to the same school and hang with the same kids for my entire childhood."

"That's not always such a good thing" I grinned.

Tina shot me a sympathetic look. "I guess so. But I was lucky. I made some good, close friends. We all grew up together. We shared so much. Which is what made moving away to college so hard. I know people here, but we don't have that history. I don't actually feel like I have any real friends here." she said quietly. Then her tight lipped expression melted to a smile as she squeezed my hand. "Well, almost none" she smiled and crinkled her eyes.

I melted, and squeezed her hand back. Then I made the patented 'Tom move' I came up with ages ago when I'd start to tear up. I feigned something going down the wrong way and coughing as my face went red and my eyes ran. I think Tina knew what I was doing because her concern quickly turned to a suppressed grin as she handed me a water and I pretended to fight the reflexive coughing.

***

We really did become close friends over the ensuing weeks. She got the job as a barista, which kept her busy most mornings and afternoons she didn't have classes, so we got together a lot more evenings. Which meant much more hanging with Chloe than Tom. But not always.

I met her at this tapas place we both wanted to try, and when I turned up as Tom, I quickly explained "roommate complications". She nodded. Dale & Colin were both home, in fact they invited buds over to watch a MMA pay per view so the place was ...bro-verflowing. I might have been able to sneak past one or both of my roommates. I'd done it before, although it was always risky. I'd carry my heels and pad to the door like a ninja, yell down the hall that I was leaving and loudly slam the door. They never even turned from the screen when I'd walk through the living room. Their eyes were usually glued to their X-Box game, sports or the occasional porno. Chloe sneaking out was usually pretty easy. But not tonight.

"If you want to put the tapas off to another night, we could go to Chili's or something." Tina smiled.

"Why would I want to do that?" I cocked my head, slightly perplexed.

"Well, Tapas is kind of ....grazing.... I just figured Tom would prefer a steak or something.... heartier." she whispered.

I smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but it all goes to the same stomach." I patted my sides gently "AND the same hips! I'm still up for tapas."

Tina nodded and we waited in line. When we sat, she whispered to me.

"Your roommate situation reminded me. How do you feel about moving again?"

I scowled. "Frustrated. It would make things easier, but I don't see how...."

Tina lit up. "I just may have a way! This girl Zoe where I work. We got to talking and she mentioned that her Dad is a real estate developer and has offered a few times to set her up in one of his former model homes, but he has a few conditions. One of them is that she has to have roommates." her eyebrow raised. "She asked me if I was interested and if I knew anybody." she beamed.

Now it was MY turn to raise an eyebrow. "You mean ME?"

Tina scowled. "Ummm.... Chloe actually. I guess Zoe is a bit of a wild child & her dad wants to get her to ditch her loser boyfriend and move out. He's holding the house out as a carrot, but he wants to approve of the roommates." she cleared her throat, seeming a bit uncomfortable. She shrugged. "I think he'd flip if he met Tom... he seems to want to get Zoe some ....responsible role models. I think if he met Tom, he'd assume Zoe was sleeping with him. Or would keep trying to. ....but I'm sure he'd love Chloe!" she smiled. "....if you'd actually do it..." she gave me big pleading eyes.

"Do what?" I was confused. "Move? ....or meet this guy...."

"Mister Boecher"

"Meet this mister Butcher guy... as Chloe?"

"Both" Tina smiled with a shrug.

I was stunned "Wow. I'll have.... I'll have to think about this.... there are a million..."

"..complications?" Tina smirked.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I think you were teasing, but it's true.... What about this Zoe? How do you think she would be with...."

Tina cut me off. "When she asked me, I told her I had a friend who might be interested. When I told her it was a transgender friend, she actually smiled and said 'cool'."

"Really?" I asked. Tine nodded vigorously. "Is she ....cool.... with it, or is she like, really into it? Because that could really compli...."

"ENOUGH with the complications!" Tina laughed. "Zoe's kind of ...edgy... I didn't think it was any kind of ....interest.... so much as she's seen and done so much already, that living with a trans girl would just be one more thing on the list."

"Um. Can I MEET this Zoe?"

Tina nodded enthusiastically. She knew I was interested, and I think she saw this as one more step closer to her getting out of the dorms.

"When can you set..."

"She's closing tonight. Care for a nightcap after dinner?"

"You want her to meet Tom?" I was feeling reservations.

"Well, soon enough she'll meet you both, so what's the difference?"

I shrugged at the realization. So, on our way home, we stopped for a latte.

The barista behind the counter was very dark... almost goth. Kind of vampiric and asexual.

"Hey Zoe!" Tina waved as we stepped through the door. The barista looked up and nodded, smiling as much as her facial muscles probably allowed... kind of a slightly concave razor thin line.

"Hey T." The girl muttered in a voice that made me blush since it was much deeper than my own and kind of smoky. "What'll it be?" she said to me.

I motioned for a single espresso, feeling really self conscious about my own voice. She didn't seem to notice. Or care.

"Remember that thing we talked about? About your dad, and the ....arrangement?" Tina leaned in and asked her quietly. Zoe nodded.

"...and I said I think I know someone.... that I had a friend....?" Zoe nodded again and I felt her eyes go to me with a look of uncertainty.

"Zoe? Meet Tom." Tina whispered.

Zoe stared intensely at me as she made my espresso.

As she handed it to me, I held out my hand, she gave it a shake.

"Fuck." she muttered.

"Not really" I shrugged with a shy smile.

She laughed. And quickly caught herself. Dragon Tattoos girl wasn't going to break character and laugh in public.

"You're shitting, right?" She said to Tina. My heart sank.

Tina furrowed her brow. "No." Zoe just glared at her. Tina seemed flummoxed,
"What?"

"You know you guys have to meet my father."

"Already have" Tina smiled and batted her eyebrows goofily "he loves me!"

Zoe scowled and cocked a thumb in my direction. "He has to meet you BOTH. He'll never...."

"He'll ADORE Chloe!" Tina gushed.

"Chloe?" Tina raised an eyebrow and turned to me. I just flushed deep crimson and tried to melt into the floor.

"Trust me." Tina almost crowed. "He'll love her. You will too. You guys have to meet."

"We just did" Zoe scowled.

"No!" whispered Tina with a little heat. "You and CHLOE!"

I just smiled weakly, still trying to be absorbed into the floor.

"Hey. When are you working next?" Tina grinned.

"Opening day after tomorrow. Damn, this job is ruining my social life." Zoe grimaced.

Tina swept me into a huddle with Zoe. "Here's the idea. Maybe day after tomorrow, Chloe and I could come by for our morning coffees? I have a morning class, but I can blow it off. This is more important." She turned to me with a querulous look.

I shrugged. "I guess I can blow off work. I can act progressively sicker tomorrow so when I call in the next day, they're not surprised. I'll make it seem contagious so they're glad I'm away." I broke a hesitant smile.

Zoe looked at us both. "Suit yourself. Still, I don't see how it will make any dif...."

"Trust me" Tina grinned.

***

I didn't have to fake impending illness the next day at work. Nerves had me in a kind of cold sweat and from what people said, looking rather pale and greenish. I had gone out during the day as Chloe, but the goal was always to blend in and disappear. I would be attracting scrutiny, at least from Zoe. I didn't worry about the guys. Dale worked at the delivery service depot and he was loading trucks by 5AM. Colin worked at MAACO and he was out the door by 6:30.

I went over and over my makeup and what to wear. I just wound myself up into a bigger bundle of nerves. Finally I realized that if I was just a random office worker grabbing a quick latte on her way to work, I would be fresh off the subway, a little disheveled, in my tennies, carrying my heels along with my bag or briefcase or portfolio or whatever I needed for work. That helped. Instead of passing the time stressing about the encounter, I spent it making up a life and backstory for Chloe the harried paralegal on her way to hand deliver documents to the courthouse on her way to work at the renovated waterfront rowhouse complex that housed the prestigious law office.

I had the character. Choosing the pencil skirt and taupe silk blouse was suddenly a snap. Appropriate leg wear and my most corporate heels completed the look. The La Perla bustier and tap pants were an indulgence I chose to cement my character. No one would see them, but I would feel them, and knowing they were underneath it all would give my character the confidence she needed to exude.

Some tastefully understated jewelry, and a trace of Dior cologne completed the package. I put the last coat of finish on my flawlessly lacquered nails, grabbed what I called my 'Jackie O' wool coat and knock off Gucci bag, and strode off to meet Tina for coffee.

I felt my phone vibrate on the bus, but it was so crowded I couldn't fish through my purse until I got off at my stop a block and a half from the coffeehouse.

"Damn." I quietly cursed as I read Tina's text.

OMG. Comparative lit quiz today. Can't miss. Too much of my grade. Kill me later. SO SO sorry! :-(

I scowled. I was less than 10 minutes away. After all I went through to get ready, and the 36 hours of nerves leading up to this moment, was I really just going to turn around and crawl home? I screwed my face into a determined grimace and plowed on to the shop.

Zoe looked a little less scary in the crisp morning light. I thought to myself, 'if Wednesday Addams grew up and got a job as a barista, she'd probably look just like this.' That thought made me smile, and I couldn't dampen my smile when a very businesslike Zoe turned to me efficiently.

"Miss?" she asked automatically. She looked right through me.

"Tall decaf macchiato. Skim milk." I said cheerfully. She gave no reaction and spun to prepare it. There was a line behind me, so I just grabbed my drink and a biscotti and scouted out a seat.

The crowd died down after about 10 minutes. I looped the bag on my arm, and stirring my biscotti in my coffee, I approached Zoe, wiping down a machine at the counter. She sensed me and turned.

"Miss?" She asked. Her fierce look now just seemed very austere and businesslike.

I realized by her quirked eyebrow she was waiting for my request or complaint.

That brought a smile. I shrugged her off.

"Oh. I'm good." I laughed. That just seemed to perplex her. Why was I bothering her?

I frowned. "Tina texted me on my way over. She forgot she had a test and couldn't blow off class...."

Her look remained blank. She heard and understood me, but hadn't yet pieced it together. I put down my coffee and extended my hand with a smile.

"Hi. I'm Chloe.... I know Tina wanted to...."

"FUCK ME!" she exclaimed and jerked back slightly. All eyes in the place turned to her. If she wasn't so naturally pale, I'm sure she would have blushed. She waved her hands dismissively to the customers and said. "Sorry. Sorry." and stared each one of them down until they went back to what they had been doing.

Then she turned to me.

"No Shit?" At least she muttered it quietly to me this time.

I just nodded and flashed a meek smile.

Her startled expression gave way to an intense gaze. It felt like she was giving me a CAT scan with her eyes. Finally, she gave a near imperceptible nod and her expression changed from one of satisfaction with her inspection to a slight, sly grin.

"Tina was right. My dad's gonna fuckin' LOVE you!"

****

When the morning rush subsided, Zoe took her break and sidled into my table.
She shot me another hard look, only this time a stupid grin was plastered on her face.

"So what did Tina tell you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Just a little. She said it was a place of your dad's in a nice part of town, but your dad required you to live with roommates."

Zoe smirked. "His exact words were 'at least two other girls'..." then she snorted "OTHER girls" and she shook her head grinning.

"Look, I don't want to be a joke or a prank on your dad. I seriously need a place to live.... one where I don't have to ....hide myself.... so if this is just about you punking your dad...."

"No. No.... It's cool. I wasn't laughing AT you..." she said under her breath. "I was laughing at myself.... when Tina said she had a TG friend, I said I was cool with it. And I was... I mean I AM.... but I was sure my father would blow a nut."

Her look bore into me. I gulped, swallowed and nodded. I got it.

Then her look softened. "But I was NEVER expecting you! God, T was right... he's gonna fuckin' LOVE you!"

I finally relaxed.

"You still want to do this? Cuz I can call him right now and we can set up a time."

I nodded. More resolutely than I felt. I was about to step from the familiar into the abyss of the unknown.

"Can you stick around? I can call him and let you know."

I nodded. "Sure. I'm out of work. Sick. Remember?" I smiled. She nodded with a grin.

I grabbed a scone and a mint chai and nursed both while I waited for Zoe's next break. I saw her sneak behind the espresso machine to make a quick call. She nodded to me when she swung back behind the counter. I nodded back, trying to calmly wait to find out when Tina and I would have our 'audition'.

I took the time to text Tina.

Hope ur test was OK. Met Zoe. She seems cool. Talkng 2 hr dad now. Let U kno.

I was putting my phone back in my purse when I saw this 50ish guy who looked like everyone who ever sold personal investment services on late night TV take his coffee from the counter and walk my way.

"May I?" he asked, already pulling out his chair. I scowled as I looked around at all the empty tables.

"Actually, there are plenty of other empty tables." I said rather coldly.

His smile didn't waiver. "Yes, but I hate drinking alone."

"I rather prefer it," I said with what I hoped was a disapproving look.

He was undeterred. He just extended a hand, smile still plastered on his implacable face.

"Frank. Frank Boecher."

Did he say Frank Butcher? Why was that familiar?

He cocked his head toward the counter. "Zoe's father."

I nearly peed myself. Or maybe that was just the blood leaving my face and rushing to my bladder.

He laughed. "I gather she didn't tell you." His eyes sparkled with mirth.

I just shook my head. I finally found my voice, dry and shaken as it was. "She just.... just said she was going to call you and arrange a meeting..."

He smiled. "I was just leaving a meeting not far from here when I got her call, so I had my driver swing by. If I had known she was working this morning I would have done so anyway. Any chance to see my girl." He smiled with pride. "...that's probably why she never tells me when she's working" he chuckled.

I smiled, and finally noticed his still-extended hand. I took it and he closed around my fingertips.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't intend to be rude Mr Butcher. You just... You just caught me by surprise." I stammered still gathering my wits.

He smiled. "Oh I totally understand. I never intended to ambush YOU miss...."

"Saville. Chloe Saville. Just call me Chloe" I smiled.

"And just call me Frank" he smiled back. "Especially since your German is ....not so..." he wavered his hand. On my confused look he grinned. "It's Boecher" he gave me a look I could best describe as 'parental' ...it was correcting but not scolding. "There's a kind of vowel sound there that ....you don't have in English.... but Butcher is close." he grinned.

I blushed.

"Sorry my dear. I didn't mean to correct you. And I certainly never intended to embarrass you. I really only wanted to say, please... call me Frank."

"Not Frrrrrank?" I said, rolling my 'R's and meekly looking up at him with the trace of a grin.

He slapped his hand on the table and bellowed to the counter in front of everyone "I LIKE this girl!"

Zoe looked mortified. Everyone in the shop looked confused. I probably just looked startled. I shot Zoe an apologetic look but she shrugged it off. I guess she was used to being publicly embarrassed by her father.

We talked for about 10 minutes. Mostly about me. And I told him the truth. Mostly. Just substituting Chloe for Tom. I told him about my schooling and my jobs and how I met Zoe through Tina, whom he had already met and pre-approved. So I guess I passed the audition.

Frank clasped my hands, expressing his pleasure at meeting me, and bade me goodbye until next we met. He was an absolute gentleman and a charmer. I could see why he was such a successful bigwig. He went up to the counter, exchanged some quiet words with Zoe and waved as he left to his waiting limo.

Zoe shot me a smile and a nod. I probably could have left then, but I had all day, so I lingered until her next break.

"You're in." She smiled. “As Tina and I both expected, he fucking loves you."

I smiled. Relieved.

"So when do you want to do this? My dad says the place can be ready by next week?”

Suddenly things were moving very fast.

***

Dale and Colin took it well. REALLY well. Apparently they knew this guy Toby who was way more into X-Box and MMA and surfing nasty homemade porn than I was, so they were more than happy to trade me out for him. They hadn't had the heart to kick me out... especially since I always had my portion of the rent on time and always covered for them when they didn't. And I was the only one who ever cleaned around the apartment. It wasn't altruism. It was enlightened self interest. I was not going to die of salmonella, botulism or toxic mold just because my roommates were incorrigible slobs. Once I agreed to pay my share of next month's rent as a 'severance fee' they were all 'have a nice life'.

So, I raided my meager savings and rented a van. It's not as if I had much to move anyway. I didn't have much space at my old place, so it was just one of those Japanese sleep cushions, my PC gear and art supplies, then clothes and accessories. It hit me that 95% of my possessions apart from my bed, computer and art gear, were Chloe's. Truth be told, Tom didn't need much. A half dozen logo tees, one pair of jeans, a pair of dockers and collared shirt for 'formal' occasions. Two pairs of athletic shoes and 'good' leather shoes for previously mentioned formal occasions.

It only took three trips to get everything moved. As the junior roomie, I got the bedroom left over after Zoe & Tina chose. Still, I was delighted. It was over twice the size of my old room and had the most decadent walk in closet with a pull-out shoe rack that would have made Imelda Marcos weep.

The 'model home' was the first built on the development and represented the no-holds-barred luxury model with all of the options. It seemed good sales technique to show people the ultimate, then make them choose which amenities to deprive themselves of to pinch a penny or two. Now that the development was fully sold, the model home was no longer needed. Still, for complicated zoning or permitting reasons, it was un-sellable without major renovations. And, Tina told me Zoe's dad got major tax advantages by having a company presence on site. So, technically the model home was a corporate site office with live-in caretakers... us.

Tina also confided that Zoe's dad really didn't approve of his daughter's wild child lifestyle and wanted to get more stabilizing influences in her life. Zoe had been rebellious from around age eleven, and recently moved in with Zack, her current boyfriend. They lived in an apartment over his tatoo and piercing shop. She mostly did it to piss off her dad, but it got to be too much for even her. Zack, she finally realized, was a meth head. He and his friends partied constantly when they weren't working downstairs. And sometimes even then. When Zoe caught Zack cooking, she reached her limit. She swallowed her pride and took her dad up on his offer.

I was the first moved in, and since I had the van for the rest of the day, I offered to help Tina move too. An offer she gladly accepted. Since I was doing the moving in 'Tom mode', Tina got lots of lewd comments from the other girls in her dorm. I found it funny because Tom was no stud. 5 foot 6 with a gymnast's body, Tom never got second glances from the ladies. Or anyone. Except bouncers. No one believed my I.D. wasn't a fake. I had far less trouble with Chloe's genuinely fake I.D. I think the dorm girls were doing it not because I was remotely studly, but because Tina was so embarrassed by the teasing. They kept joking that Tina was moving in with her sexy hot sweetie. Me. ….Tom.... I couldn't squelch my grin, because in a way they couldn't imagine, she was.

I thought that since it had been her dad's place, and she had been sofa-surfing since walking out on her meth-head boyfriend, Zoe would be the first to move in. But there still wasn't a speck of her stuff.

She was waiting at the house when Tina and I pulled up in the van.

“So.... Tom....” she couldn't say it without smirking. Need to work with her on that. “..how long do you have the van?”

I shrugged. “I'm supposed to have it back in the morning. 9AM.”

Zoe grinned. “So you have it all night?”

I nodded, wary of where this was going.

“Wanna help a girl move?” she asked wickedly.

“Why is my spidey sense tingling?” I smiled. “Sounds like you're planning a heist?”

Zoe got serious. “It's not a heist! It's MY goddamn stuff. He's being an asshole about it. I've gotta get it back before he sells everything.”

“So you are planning a heist.” I grinned.

“We're NOT stealing anything! It's my stuff!” Zoe was getting really wound up.

“Chill. I'm messing with you.” I smiled. “But I'm guessing that the only way you're getting your stuff back is by taking it.”

Zoe nodded angrily. “Shithead got all 'fuck you bitch' when I stopped bankrolling him and his loser friends.” She crossed her arms and her body language was a mix of ferocity and deep, deep hurt and betrayal.

“So are we talking Mission Impossible spidering down through the ceiling here?” I grinned. It worked. Her mood lightened.

“That would be cool.” she smirked. “I'm hella into ropes and pulleys and shit....”

I just shot her a look, trying to wrap my head around her twisted sense of humor.

She sighed. “But all that shit, and the rest of my stuff is in shithead Zack's place.”

I was beginning to sense that she wasn't entirely joking.

“I figure we can eat, watch a movie or two, prep and do the deed.” She said as casually as if she were discussing her grocery list. “T.... you in?” she called out. Tina nodded yes.

“Why do I feel like someone in a caper film where they're planning the big heist?” I asked with a worried smile.

Zoe smiled back. “It's not a heist! I told you bitch.” She grinned, then shot me a scowl. “Oh. Sorry bro.”

I laughed. “I'll take bitch over bro any day.”

Zoe nodded, relieved, and got back on track. “As I was saying... It's not a heist ….bitch” she shot me a smirk “....it's a fuckin' repo. That's all my stuff. And that asshole and his scumbags aren't going to sell it on me!”

The fire in her voice was impressive. This was someone you did not want to get on the wrong side of. I found myself wondering just how short her fuse was and if I had made a terrible mistake.

“So, I figure we get some food and supplies, watch a movie or two to get psyched, plan out the operation, then go do it.”

“Still feels like a caper movie.” I said to her, expressionless.

She glanced at me with mild annoyance, obviously trying to figure out how to sell me, since I had the van.

I cracked a goofy grin. “I've never been in a caper movie before. Day one and already my life is way more interesting with you two!”

From across the room, Tina laughed. Zoe just looked relieved.

We went out for Indian take-out, swung by Home Depot and marveled as Zoe tore through the place like a commando on a raid. Tina was less surprised. She knew Zoe. I was somewhat stunned as she filled the cart with 'supplies'. Both Tina and I were impressed at Zoe's sheer focus. Then we swung by Zoe's parents house. It was way out in the posh burbs and I had to top the tank in the van to be sure we didn't get stranded coming home from Zack's.

Tina put her hand on my forearm and whispered “you should probably wait here.” I nodded, as that was my intention all along. Tina and Zoe went up to the house and I saw them greeted by a woman I presumed was Zoe's mom. They were inside a while and maybe I zoned out or fell asleep, but I was startled alert by the sound of the van doors opening. I saw the silhouette hauling stuff into the van, so I got out to help and spun around to nearly collide into him.

“Let me take that.” I said, relieving the older guy of the overstuffed box.

“Thanks.” He said and passed it to me. I fitted it into the van and turned back to face an ashen Tina, Zoe and...

“Frank. Frank Boecher. …..Zoe's dad.” He thrust out his right hand. “And you are?....”

“uh...Tom sir. Tom ... uh... Saville.” I replied, startled.

He raised an eyebrow and gave me a curious look.

“Chloe's brother!” Zoe blurted.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

“Cousin actually. First cousin. Uncle Don asked me to help her move... and then these two stop-lossed me and I got roped into their missions too.” I smiled.

That seemed to satisfy Frank, who turned to his daughter.

“Zoe. How come I know your housemate is an only child and you don't?” It sounded like an accusation, but by the tone of his voice, it was clear this was the sort of chiding he always did, and Zoe's discomfort was proof that it worked.

“Jeez Dad.... I didn't grill her for her life story. I just needed to know that Tina swore she's good people, you approved, and that she could make rent.” Zoe nearly whined, suddenly seeming nine years old. I knew this was mortifying for her so Tina and I acted distracted, as if we weren't noticing this awkward father daughter interplay.

“So where is Chloe?” Frank asked. The question didn't seem addressed to anyone in particular, so I jumped in.

I shot him a wicked smile. “As payment for the ….moving service.... uncle Don and aunt Phoebe requi....requested she join them for dinner at home and they spend the evening until I got back with the van.” I shot Zoe a grin. “....which looks like it will be a lot longer than she bargained for.”

Frank let out a hearty laugh. “I daresay! Well, good. I'm sure her parents will be delighted by her extended, probably all-too-rare visit. ….And she'll survive... despite what she may think.” And he shot a smug look at his own daughter. Who just squirmed.

I was then brought into the house where I met Zoe's mother Marjorie and joined the group for coffee and snacks. I know it was intended as polite small talk and not an inquisition, but since I had already told Frank the truth about my life, just telling it as Chloe's life, I was kind of forced to pull an alternate bio out of thin air. I made Tom and Chloe first cousins who were born a day apart and whose families were quite close. I hinted that because of the physical proximity and closeness of our families, Chloe and I were raised practically as siblings. And since our ages were so close, we were in many ways, effectively twins. That allowed me to keep much of the broader fabric of Chloe's story for my own, and just pepper enough detail to give Tom a separate, if parallel, life.

I survived the inquisition. Although a few times, I thought the expressions on the faces of Tina and Zoe were going to blow everything.

Zoe's folks were either polite or oblivious. I presume they were polite.

As we were walking back to the van with her parents looking on from the open door, Zoe punched me in the arm.

“Way to go romeo.” she sneered. “....now he's probably gonna want me to fuckin' date you!”

I turned to her with alarm. That HAD to be loud enough for them to hear. She just stared back at me with the dirtiest grin. She put her hand into the small of my back and thrust me forward, almost tripping me. I just turned my recovered near-stumble into a run and sped toward the van, Zoe whooping behind me in pursuit while Tina just laughed from now far behind.

It was quiet on the ride home until Tina broke the silence.

“Well. That went well.” she said primly.

Zoe and I both exploded in laughter.

“Oh, God, I thought I was so dead!” I confessed.

“YOU??? That was MY fuckin' father. I almost shit wondering what he would do to me!” Zoe cackled.

“So now, just like Zoe, her dad has met Chloe AND Tom!” Tina chirped.

“And he fuckin' loves you both!” Zoe rolled her eyes.

I couldn't help but laugh. Mostly from relief.

We got home and unloaded Zoe's care packages from home.

She got to setting up the TV and DVD player while Tina and I set the table and unpacked our Indian take-out.

Over dinner Zoe explained that for the raid on her old boyfriend's place to repossess her stuff we didn't need a plan so much as the right attitude and willingness to improvise in the moment. That was why our 'planning' was to be old heist movies.

Sure enough, we plowed through nearly a dozen movies, never getting to watch them all the way through. Zoe would just skip to the heist part and comment on things she liked or disliked in their burglary technique.

When she popped in the DVD of Disney's misguided “Mr Magoo” movie, I thought she made a mistake. But she shushed Tina and me as she fast forwarded to the heist scene.

When I saw Kelly Lynch in that 'sexy ninja' getup flying down from the ceiling of a cavernous museum like an elegant spider descending on her web, I knew I had triggered this image flashback in Zoe's mind with my earlier joking reference to the original Mission Impossible film.

“THAT is how I want to see you do it!”Zoe grinned at me from ear to ear.

“How high IS this guy's ceiling?” I asked, unable to hide my amusement. “...AND... I'm presuming he has a skylight.... or at the very least an HVAC junction box nestled into a dropped ceiling....”

Zoe pouted. “No. Just a stock shithole apartment over his shop on Tanner Ave. It's only a three story building , so we could drop through the ceiling. But we'd have to cut a hole through the roof....” Suddenly her eyes sparkled. “Did you ever see Terry Gilliam's 'Brazil'?”

I smiled and nodded. “Merry Christmas, Mr Buttle!” I laughed.

“God, that was my favorite movie as a kid!” Zoe got a faraway look for a moment then refocused.

“Um. That wasn't a kids movie.” I gently corrected.

Zoe smiled from ear to ear. “I know. My parents just saw it was a movie from that guy who did 'Time Bandits' so they thought 'for kids' and shoved me the video to keep me out of their hair.” She laughed.

I was beginning to better understand why my new housemate gave off a grown-up-Wednesday-Addams vibe

Then Zoe's face fell again. “That's how I'd LIKE to do it. Leaving a gaping hole in ass-brain's fucking ceiling. But we're probably better off just going in from the fire escape.”

We watched Zoe's movie playlist 'to get psyched for the job' she insisted, but it really helped us pass the time until it was late enough that all the stores on the old retail block would be closed and the people who lived in the apartments above them were too drunk, passed out or otherwise messed up to notice our little guerrilla 'repo action'.

When I asked Zoe if she ever did any performance art, she startled and asked why I would ask such a random question. I smiled and told her the outfits she had chosen for the 'operation' seemed a bit theatrical. She insisted that the all black outfits were extremely practical. I agreed, adding that they were practically theatrical. She just scowled and began ignoring my playful teasing.

I suggested the reason she wanted Chloe along on 'the heist' as I tauntingly referred to it, was because she had a Charlie's Angel's script playing in her edgy little mind. She shrugged it off, but didn't bother with a rebuttal.

“The reason I want Chloe along, is if we DO run into trouble, it will probably be easier for her to bat her eyes and talk her way out of any incriminating situations.”

I nodded. I did not want to get caught, but I figured getting caught as Chloe was the lesser of two evils, and I was more likely to talk my way out of something sketchy. Especially since I felt infinitely more comfortable and confident as Chloe than Tom.

We drove to the near abandoned part of oldtowne where 'dirtbag Zack' had his shop. It was within staggering distance of a few dive bars, but the streets were empty.

I pulled the van into the alley behind the building, squeezing in behind an overflowing dumpster and a loading dock stacked with empty wood pallets. This hid the van from anyone peering in from the street.

I thought we were going to climb the fire escape, but instead, Zoe told us to wait with the van and walked around the corner to the street.

About 5 minutes later she called to us from a third floor window. Tina and I clambered up the rickety fire escape and joined Zoe in dirtbag Zacks.

I nearly climbed back out the window instantly.

“Oh my God! What's that stench?” It burned like ammonia.

Zoe gave a bitter smile. “He's been cooking again. I opened all the windows to air the place out, but it will take a while. Meanwhile, use these.”

Tina and I stared at her as she handed us a pair of rather severe looking gas masks.

“Wow. You really thought of everything.” Tina laughed.

Zoe shook her head. “Nah. They were with my stuff. That idiot never even noticed them. He probably burned out half his lungs cooking his shit before he had the good sense to leave.”

“So how did you get in so easy?” Tina asked. “I remember your fight at work where you threw your housekey at him and nearly took his eye out.”

Zoe cocked her head and gave Tina a look that seemed to say 'Seriously?'

My laugh just slipped out. Both turned to me. Tina with curiosity. Zoe expectantly.

“Have you ever been to a locksmith?” I smiled. “Or even the hardware counter at WalMart? Zoe was not going to give away her only key when all her stuff was locked in here.”

Zoe nodded, pleased that she didn't need to explain.

“I figured that shitbrain wouldn't think of that.” Then her grin got positively wicked.

“Even better.... I have some pricey shit in those bins, and this isn't the greatest neighborhood, so I insisted on installing a security system. Ass-hat Zack figured it would keep his shit safe too.... even before he got the idiot notion to MacGuyver his own methlab.” Her humor was turning to ire, but she pulled it back and grinned again. “Thing is, he has NO fuckin' clue how it works and never cared. He let me do all the installation and learning how to program it. He just wanted to know the keycode.” Her eyes crinkled and she beamed a grin that was so out of place on her austere face. “....which I just fuckin' changed!”

Tina and I grinned at the thought that she didn't just break into her exes apartment, she changed the codes so that HE couldn't get into it without summoning the police.

Since it was apparent that Zack had left until the toxic stench dissipated, we knew we had time to leisurely and carefully move Zoe's stuff.

Zoe had a LOT of stuff. Mostly packed in plastic storage bins and some in metal road cases like a rock band or traveling theater company.

“What on earth is IN all this?” I asked rhetorically after moving the I-lost-count-long-ago travel case.

“If you're really nice, maybe someday I'll show you.” she purred with a twinkle in her eye that sent a wary shiver down my spine.

We managed to get everything out before sunup and barely got the van emptied before I had to get it to the rental place.

I topped the tank and parked it in the return area. I brought my paperwork in to the guy behind the desk and he shot me a long hard look.

“Where is.... Tom Saville?”

Oh crap! I was so exhausted I totally spaced. I rented the van as Tom, but after moving all night I just touched up my makeup and wearily returned the van.

The adrenaline cut through my fatigue like a welding torch to butter. I frantically fished around in my purse and pulled out my fake I.D.

“I'm his sister Chloe.” I smiled apologetically. “He was helping me move. We just finished a few hours ago, and the poor guy was so exhausted, I didn't have the heart to wake him. And I didn't want him to get penalized for bringing the van back late... so I figured after all his help, the least I could do was return the... um....”

“Only the individual who rents the vehicle is supposed to drive it.” he said sternly. “There's an extra fee and paperwork for additional drivers” He again looked at the license in his hand, turning it over and seeming to examine it. It was a good fake so I wasn't too worried. I think he was just being dramatic. He closed his hand over the license and took the keys I'd just handed in, slipping from behind the counter.

“Let's go examine the vehicle.” he said curtly, shoving my paperwork onto his clipboard and marching out to the lot.

He did a thorough inspection. A really thorough inspection. I felt like a cadet at a military school. I think all his officiousness was just for show.

He wrote down the odometer, checked the tank - which wasn't full when I got the van, but was now topped. I gave him a weak smile and got a nod for that. He walked around and examined it inside and out. This guy was thorough. He'd have made a great doctor or police detective. Finally, he stopped, harumphed, and beckoned me with his head tilt as we walked back inside.

“Everything seems to be in order.” He said curtly. “Still... there is the matter of the third party driver....” He shot me a slight scowl.

I blushed and shot him an apologetic look. “I didn't know. I was just trying to do a favor..”

He stamped the paperwork and handed me the customer copy while adding his pile to a stack.

“This never happened.” He said to me with a blank expression. I returned his pokerface with my own grateful smile. “And don't let it happen again.”

I nodded. He finally cracked the smallest of smiles.
“Have a nice day Miss.”

I nodded back, returning a smile of relief and quickly hurried out to catch the bus home.
When I returned, the place was littered with Zoe's 'tour cases'. Suddenly the once empty house didn't seem so cavernous. I shuffled to my room like a zombie and face planted in my bed.

When I finally woke to the sounds of constructive cacophony, it was past 4PM.
I staggered downstairs to see Tina barely able to control a giant floor buffer that seemed to have a mind of its own while Zoe was power-drilling into the walls and pounding in mounts for a huge flatscreen.

Both stopped their noisy activity when they noticed me staggering down the stairs.

“Afternoon sleeping beauty.” Tina teased.

“WHO slept in their makeup?...” Zoe taunted.

I just wiped the sleep from my eyes. Or maybe it was caked mascara. “...So shoot me...” I groggily replied.

They both laughed and warned that as soon as I was caffeinated and showered, I was being conscripted to the Martha Stewart brigade of the domestic goddess squad.
I gave a weary grin and went to wake myself fully. I was actually looking forward to helping. It was my place too now. I wanted a say in how things were set up.
**
We made a lot of progress. The place looked ...settled... as if we had lived there for years. The kitchen was all set up and I offered to cook us dinner. I hadn't cooked since I left home. Colin & Dale were greasy takeout guys, and our community refrigerator was an oversized beer cooler. Any time I'd try to put actual groceries in the vegetable crisper or the freezer, I would return home to find it unceremoniously tossed and the space taken with more beer or frozen bottles of Jagermeister.
It was a joy to cook again. I found I had missed it. After querying my roommates on their dietary restrictions - or downright quirks – I made a quick grocery run and tore into the kitchen.

Since our new home was in a posh development, it was a 'duh' moment to realize how close we were to Trader Joe's and Wholefoods. We would eat well and healthy, for less than my old roommates spent on pizza and hotwings.

The pan seared tilapia fillets and caramelized shallots, in my own secret braise – which actually came from a botched curry attempt, was a big hit. Perhaps too big a hit. Zoe proposed that I be the 'official chef' of the household. An 'honor' which I deftly dodged.
I was more than happy to make the first dinner in our new home, which I owed to the generosity of my housemates. And they seemed delighted with my ….unorthodox... approach to 'conventional' recipes. But I was not going to be immediately branded the Rachael Ray, Paula Dean, Barefoot Contessa or whatever foodie stereotype of our domestic triad. I would gladly share the cooking duties, and in fact I loved experimenting in the kitchen – which my housemates may come to rue – but I was not going to be the “Hi Honey, what's for dinner?” member of this household, and I made that clear in my own passive/aggressive way.

Tina was instantly cool with it. Zoe pouted a bit and warned us if we insisted on sharing the cooking duties than we waived our right to bitch about her choices on the nights it was her duty. Tina and I both laughed and readily agreed. I could politely pretend I wasn't hungry if Zoe tried to make a point and serve us something truly foul.

Tina cleared the table with me and helped with the dishes. Zoe fled immediately after espressos and gellato to go to her room and unpack her (re)posessions.

“So how does it feel?” Tina asked. I shot her a look, not quite sure of the question. “You're home now. Zoe and I both now about Chloe and Tom, so you're free to be yourself.”

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. It's great. It will take a while to sink in.... so many things have changed....but it is a relief.”

Tina returned my smile. “So take advantage of the freedom. Relax. Be yourself.”

“....I think I am relaxed.... aren't I?” I smiled uncertainly.

“No. I mean be yourself.... be your real self.” she smiled warmly.

I'm sure my confusion showed. She regarded me for along moment, furrowed her brow, and finally let out a long sigh.

“Go be Tom.” she smiled warmly.

Now I was certain my perplexity showed. I just stared at Tina for the longest time until I finally processes it.

“Oh God. You think I'm F2M?”

Now it was Tina's turn to look lost.

“You think Chloe's been struggling her whole life to become Tom?” I'm afraid my smile may have betrayed my wry amusement.

Tina just stared at me blankly. She was now as lost as I had been moments before.
I couldn't suppress my laughter. I tried putting my hands over my mouth to cap it like an oil well, but I could not stop it.

“Oh God. You think I was born and branded female and struggled all my life to be Tom?”

Tina was really confused and I could see the emotion welling up on her face.

“Oh, God sweetie. NO!..... but thank you so much for the accidental compliment.... I'm not F2M.... female to male..... I'm M2F.... I'm trying to shed Tom and build a life as Chloe!”

Tina just stood there. Stunned. Processing.

“You mean you were born Tom... and grew up as Tom... and Chloe is...?”

I nodded. “The real me.”

Tina shook herself. “I thought.... I thought you were....”

“...A trans man?”

She nodded. “I mean. I've met some trans men. And when I met Tom and you showed me the....”

“..Tramp stamp.” I sighed.

“Yeah... I thought you were a genetic woman in the early stages of transition to male. I mean physically... you're pretty feminine....”

I nodded, smiling.

“...but your ...attitude... as Tom... it was a really convincing masculine attitude...”

“I've had a lifetime to practice.” I sighed.

“So, I saw this really masculine demeanor coming from this small, slender body... and when I realized Chloe and Tom were the same person.... I thought... Trans Man.” she blushed.

I smiled. I had never knowingly been mistaken for a Trans Man, but found it oddly flattering.

“So I had to live as Tom with my housemates, who I knew since middle school. And at work, since all my paperwork is Tom's.... except my fake I.D.” I winked. “And they weren't jobs I wanted to keep for a lifetime. They could last as long as Tom did. Which I hoped was not too terribly much longer.”

Tina nodded. The blush was fading.

I squirmed slightly. “So, does this change anything?” I asked with grave uncertainty.

Tina took a moment and shook her head. “No. I guess not. I'm surprised.... but I don't see how it should matter....”

I relaxed a bit.

“Zoe and I are both cool with Tom AND Chloe. So it's no big deal if we see more of one as time goes on.” Tina said with a warm smile.

“Well, Tom can do things like rent moving vans, so he won't be going away any time soon.” I said with mild distaste.

“And Chloe is a crazy good cook, and a badass bitch in her black catsuit doing B&E. ” she grinned.

I rolled my eyes. “I can't believe I let Zoe talk me into that.”

“You saw the movies she was watching to get in the mood to raid dirtbag Zack's.” she laughed. “After both Charlie's Angels and Heroic Trio did you think she was going to let you come on the raid in a frilly sundress? I've known Zoe a lot longer than you but you must know once she fixates on something, there's no talking her out of it. Just be thankful it was only that silly pleather catsuit.”

I snorted and shook my head. It was my first day in my new home and already my housemate was becoming a bad influence.

We quickly settled into our new routine. Tina had classes and study groups and hanging with her friends and working at the coffee shop. I had my two jobs and otherwise raced home to get back into Chloe mode. I had hoped to find the time to get back to my artistic ambitions, but household chores seemed to take more time than I expected. It's not as if my housemates didn't share the workload. Well, at least Tina did. And even Zoe was a substantial improvement over Colin and Dale. She didn't really help clean up, but at least she didn't actively contribute to the squalor, like my previous roommates. This place was far bigger, and far nicer than my old stag housing, so it required a lot more maintenance to keep it up. I did find the time to set up my PC and digital easel, but never made the time to actually put them to use. Somehow I felt like I was waiting for the muse.

Meanwhile, I got manic Martha Stewart around the house.

Zoe's dad showed up one day unannounced. Thank God I was in Chloe mode when he just used his key and entered.

I had to remind myself that this was 'his house' and we were technically caretakers, paying under-market rent in exchange for upkeep and squatting privileges.

I heard him come in and loudly say 'Hello?'. Tina was out and I hadn't seen or heard Zoe all morning. I assumed she was out as well.

“Hello?” I yelled back from the kitchen. I was a bit startled, but relaxed when I came (still discreetly carrying a large kitchen knife) to the foyer to find Zoe's dad.

“Oh, hey Mister B.” I smiled.

“Hello Chloe.” he smiled. “I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop in and see how you girls were settling in.”

I suspect his real agenda was a surprise inspection, to confirm that his plan was working and the two girls he vetted were indeed being good influences on his wild daughter.

I smiled apologetically. “I'm sorry. Zoe and Tina are both out. Please come in. Can I get you anything? ...coffee? Tea?”

Frank Boecher smiled and waved me off.

“Thank you dear. No. I only have a moment..... I just wanted to swing by and find out how you girls were settling in....” he said as he casually walked from room to room, clearly inspecting 'how we were settling in'. I was suddenly grateful for all the time I had invested getting the place tidy and together. I had not expected this surprise inspection, but found great relief knowing that our home looked quite presentable.

Zoe's dad nodded approvingly as he ambled from room to room. I sensed surprise on his part. Pleasant surprise. I volunteered to show him my upstairs room but explained that I obviously couldn't show him what Tina and Zoe had done with their personal spaces. He seemed to understand and waived off a tour of my room, saying he just wanted to see how we were settling in and if there was anything we were clearly in need of. I got the feeling he expected to find sleeping bags and inflatable furniture.

Finally, he made his way to the rather messy kitchen. He looked around and inhaled deeply.

“You caught me preparing tonight's dinner” I smiled apologetically. “It's my night to cook, and I wanted to make curry.... it takes a bit of preparation....” I smiled and shrugged.

“You're making it from scratch?” He regarded me with faint surprise.

I shrugged and nodded.

“Is this a regular thing?” he asked.

Again I shrugged. “Well, we all take turns... and we all have our ...particular styles... but today is my turn, and I had the day free, and everyone was cool with Indian, so I figured I'd make fresh curried veggies, palak paneer and lamb vindaloo.”

“And Zoe eats all that?” He asked.

I nodded. “We always clear it with others when it's our turn to cook. No one's too picky, and thank goodness no one has any food allergies.” I smiled. “So far we've been pretty much able to cook what we like, and there haven't been any complaints. So far.” Then I shrugged a smile “Then again, it hasn't even been a whole week.”

Frank laughed.

“I'm glad to know Zoe's eating well. Since she was about eleven, she wouldn't touch anything that didn't come in a greasy takeout sack.” He smiled.

“Oh, she still does that too.” I laughed. “Usually when it's her night to cook.”

Frank and I chatted amiably for a while longer and he politely left so I could get back to my 'chores'.

I think he was satisfied at his spot inspection, and relieved to find there were no 'girls gone wild' shenanigans going on. I doubted we'd be having any other unexpected visits anytime soon.

I told Tina about Frank's visit when she got home. She read it the same way I did. We were both curious for Zoe's take. When we finally saw her.

It was days later at about 6AM. I was sleepily shuffling downstairs to make coffee and get ready for work when I saw Zoe come out of her room headed for the upstairs bathroom. She was just in a robe, but looked like she'd been awake for hours.

“Hey stranger. Where you been?” I smiled.

She smiled back. “Nowhere. Work. Here. Work. Here. My social life sucks.” she grinned.

She didn't seem too upset about it.

“We missed seeing you. You even missed dinner the last few days, and Tina made her famous risotto!” I smiled.

She stopped and gave me a piercing look. “I'm a private person. Deal with it.”

“Sorry!” I stammered. “I meant no offense or imposition... it's just... we missed you.”

Zoe softened. “S'okay. Sorry I snapped at you. I just.... There are times I just.... keep to myself... sometimes for long stretches.” She scrunched up her face a little and I got the feeling she was going to say something but thought better of it. Then she got back that wicked Zoe gleam. “So don't worry about me. If you don't see me for stretches... it's just because.... I'm a wicked fucking hermit.” she smirked. “So unless you smell rotting corpse after not seeing me for a week or more, don't fucking stress about it.”

I shot her an uncomfortable look.

She just waved me off with a smile. “It's all good. Just leave me my space, OK?”

I nodded. She nodded back with a 'that's that' face and continued to the bathroom.

When Tina came down for coffee I told her about my Zoe encounter. I was relieved that she seemed as disturbed by it as I did.

“My cousin Jerry is bipolar. Until they knew what it was, he really freaked out the family when he first began manifesting.” She said.

“Do you think that's what it might be? Could it explain why her dad wanted her to live with others?” I asked.

Tina pursed her lips in thought. “Could be.... If so, I wish he... told us.”

“You were going to say 'warned us'...” I smiled. She nodded with an embarrassed smile.

“Maybe that's WHY he didn't tell us? He thought we might get scared off?” I mused.

Tina shrugged. “Look, we don't really know the first thing about Zoe's situation. I just knew her from work, but she seemed cool. A little wild... but cool at the core. That hasn't changed.”

I nodded. “True. I don't want to jump to conclusions. Let's just take this as one thing. She seems to be a recluse. She stays in her room for days at a time and doesn't even come out for meals. Doesn't have to mean anything more than she just keeps to herself.”

Tina seemed to agree. “If she really did have ….issues.... like my cousin Jerry.... there's no way she would be able to hold down a job without meds. And she's only missed work a few times... and every time she's mentioned beforehand what a wild night she had planned. That doesn't sound like mental illness.... just partying too hard. That happens to everybody sometimes.” she cracked a guilty smile.

I smiled back politely. Actually it had never happened to me, and I couldn't see that changing.

And so, life went on. And for me, for now, double life went on. I let Tina use my old Hyundai to get to classes and anything else she needed. And for her part, Tina got Tom to and from work. I could duck down when we left the garage and only pop back up when we hit the highway, so the neighbors never saw 'that guy' hanging out at the house full of girls.

Once in a while Zoe would grab me at work. I think it was less about Tina being busy than Zoe being bored. She would always show up looking like a badass biker bitch from some 70s exploitation flick... all leather, chains and ripped denim and say stupid stuff to me in front of others like, “C'mon baby. Time to ditch the Clark Kent and get back to the fortress of solitude... mama needs some tamin'....” with a wicked gleam in her eye.

My coworkers at office oasis were totally afraid of her. I tried to tell them she was a friend of Tina's with a twisted sense of humor, but I think they wanted to believe the dark and outrageous stuff she made up more than my lame and boring explanation.

The guys ...and women... at the courier office weren't freaked at all. They were intrigued. “Oh, yeah.... I've always had a thing for bad boys.... and behind all that mild mannered bike messenger disguise, this one's the baddest I've ever met!” Zoe would crow.

I knew what she meant by 'bad boy', and I could tell by the gleam in her eye she meant my coworkers and I to take it two different ways. I protested that she was making it all up and not to bust me for it. But the more I protested, the more she insisted that the boy scout act was just cover and that I was a raunchy wolf in sheep's clothing. As at my other job, my coworkers wanted to believe the more lurid story.

“Why do you DO that???” I asked in an exasperated whine once we got onto the highway and I could drop the Tom facade.

“Because it's fuckin' FUN!” Zoe gave me a wicked grin. “I can't believe these people even believe you're fuckin' TOM, let alone the crazed sex fiend bullshit I say. No matter how thick I lay it on, they just lap it up!” she cackled.

“Hey! YOU bought the Tom face the first time we met.” I protested.

“Yeah, cuz I hadn't met Chloe.” Zoe grinned.

“Yeah. And when you DID meet Chloe, you never made the connection.... until I made it for you.”

Her face got thoughtful, no doubt recalling our first meeting. She smiled. “Yeah.... that was before I fuckin' knew you. Now I do, and I can't believe anybody buys the Tom bullshit. You're Chloe. Acting all slouchy and emo boy, but it's all bullshit. I can see that now. I can't believe they all buy it.”

“Well they DO. And I like working..... and paying my part of the rent. So PLEASE stop messing with my coworkers?”

“No! It's fun. Maybe next time I should come with bruises and make some comment about the sex getting a little rough....”

“Oh God. PLEASE??? WHY do you have to mess with my friends?”

“I'm not fucking with them.” She said matter of factly, then she turned to me as I clenched, wishing she'd keep her eyes on the road. “I'm fucking with YOU!” she grinned.

I begged Tina to lie and say she was nearly there anytime Zoe said she would pick me up, explaining the stunts Zoe pulled and how my coworkers were starting to treat me in a new, unwelcome way. I liked being 'invisible boy' at work. But now people were coming up to me and saying outrageous things. Clarisse at the courier company invited me to check out her dungeon and one of my bosses at Office Oasis invited Zoe and me to a 'swap party' at his weekend cottage. Dianne the dispatcher slipped a recordable DVD into my courier bag and told me she'd love to see any vids Zoe and I wanted to share.

Tina just laughed nearly as maniacally as Zoe, but she shot me a warm sympathetic gaze.
“That's what you get moving in with a wild child!” she cackled. Then she put her hand on my forearm. “OK, sweetie. I'll try to keep her away from your work.” she soothed.

I thanked her profusely and explained that I liked Zoe and was totally cool with whatever her thing was... or things were.... but messing with my workmates was not funny to me.
She nodded and got it. Then she snickered and wondered if she wasn't allowed to play with me if she might start messing with Tina's schoolmates.

I laughed. “That's what you get moving in with a wild child!” And we laughed trying to imagine what kinds of sordid stories Zoe could make up to shock Tina's schoolmates.

Fortunately, Zoe remained scarce around the house. If she was in her room or not we could never tell. She was super private and we respected her privacy. Occasionally we would see her head out on a Friday night with what looked like a lot more than an overnight bag, and when we heard her sneak in, in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, the rather large rucksack made sense.

Meanwhile, Tina managed to go to school, keep an impressive GPA, work at the coffeeshop, a hipster collectible shop called 'Nostalgia Nook' that sold everything from vintage 'beat' era fashions to Esquivel and be-bop LPs, used books and items like 1964 worlds fair postcards and souvenirs. I don't think she worked there for the money, but because it allowed her to meet so many unique and eclectic people. Her writers mind was always working, and everyone she met provided material for her creative process.

One day she sheepishly asked if I'd read over some stuff she was kicking around. It was a story ...or maybe a serial... called “Contagion”. It read like a lurid 1950s pulp, and seemed like a fairly standard zombie tale. Only the more I read the series of seemingly unrelated vignettes, the more I saw the pattern unfold. It read like a zombie story, but I realized it was told from the point of view of the zombies. Only they didn't know they were zombies. Just that it was slowly dawning on them that somehow they had become 'other'... and no one in the 'real world' wanted any interaction. As I read on, I realized these zombies were once ordinary citizens who had somehow slipped through the cracks and become outsiders, shunned by 'decent' society. Soldiers who, as idealistic young people did the patriotic thing and enlisted, only to find themselves witnessing ...and sometimes doing... things that would change them forever, and when they were finally used up and sent home, they found themselves wandering through a country they could no longer recognize and shunned by the people they enlisted to protect. Other zombies were single moms with young families living on the street after financial or domestic catastrophe, elderly people who had lost everything to swindlers, entire social groups – people of certain ethnicities, refugees from particular countries, LGBT folk, and others who suddenly found themselves branded 'outsiders' and 'threats to the status quo'. These social outcasts were the new zombie army. Feared and despised by 'the normals' because ordinary people recognized themselves in the outsiders, and the presence of the 'zombies' made ordinary people realize how close they themselves were to this sort of spreading dis-inclusion.

After about a week, she couldn't take the wait. Tina cornered me and asked if I read it. I admitted that I read it multiple times and got more out of it... actually more into it with each rereading. She hesitantly asked whether I thought it might work as a book, or maybe a series of short stories.

Rather than answer her, I held up a finger, asking her to wait while I dashed up to my room and got my tablet.

I showed her some stuff I'd sketched out and meekly suggested that I saw her story as a powerful graphic novel. Only I changed the title from 'Contagion' to “Plague Diaries'.

Her eyes went wide as she saw my interpretation of her story. How, when the story was told from the point of view of the 'zombies', it had a bleak 19th century woodcut, Edward Gorey look to it. And when told from the point of the 'normals' it had more of a Norman Rockwell feel to it. And how when a character or group was slipping to the 'darkside', their P.O.V. would slowly morph from the rosy style to the bleak style.

The more we talked about this, the more excited we got about collaborating on her story. Tina's powerful tale was the inspiration I needed to finally pick up my stylus and rediscover my own inspiration. It also gave Tina an opportunity to test her ideas about marketing her work.

Her ideas were sound. It didn't take too long for 'Plague Diaries' to generate buzz. We'd tease out installments on the web and made full tales, each a self contained short story set in Tina's rich world. It reminded me of an anthology series set in the same fictitious world.

She worked out a deal with small publish on demand services and offered her tales on epublishing and physical books that were a vague mashup of a comic book and an old 1990s style self published zine. Neither of us dreamed of quitting our day jobs, but the modest returns from our little collaboration was a tremendous validation that people actually seemed to enjoy the stuff we made.

We even got a few inquiries from people who claimed to be interested in publishing or syndicating our work. While flattered, we put them off, claiming this project was just beginning, and suggesting that if they were still interested later on, we should stay in touch.

Tina did make one deal. Working with a large publisher of magazines distributed throughout the world in a variety of languages. She ran it by me and of course got my approval, since I always considered it her story and I was just interpreting it through my images. I would send the publisher the master artwork for a story completely stripped of text and Tina would send the story notes in a separate attachment so that versions could be customized for each market and language.

Much as my old roomies would get lost in their first person shooter games and some of my coworkers became completely immersed in world of warcraft, Tina's world attracted a surprising number of fans. Or as she called them 'enthusiastic immigrants'.

I always gave all the credit to her. It was her world, her story and her imagination. I just put a tiny little Prince-like glyph which was a convoluted graphic jumble of 'Saville'. I remained blissfully anonymous for the longest time, but eventually Tina mentioned to some fan that she didn't do the art, and chose not to volunteer any information before talking to me.

The buzz over the 'mystery artist' snowballed the more I tried to protect my privacy. I enjoyed being an enigma. Who I was in people's imaginations seemed much more interesting than my rather mundane real life.

One day at Office Oasis I handed a customer his logo decal so he could write off his Fiat 500 as a 'company car'.

“Hey!” he seemed indignant.

I shot him a confused and querulous look.

“This looks like that ….thing.... like from those Plague Diaries...”

I didn't have to act surprised.

“For chrissakes, be orginal” he sneered. “Anyway, you suck at it!”

I could only smile. And nod. And apologize - offering a free re-do, while laughing inside at this idiot. I guess our little project went more viral than I thought.

Tina gave me a page on her P.D. site for sketches and artwork. I used it to workbook stuff and got encouraging feedback. We even got a number of private messages asking if our 'originals' were for sale. Tina and I exchanged blank stares. Her originals were .docx files, and my originals were done in sketchup and Photoshop. Did they want us to ftp them our data files? We laughed at the thought of analog fans in a digital world.

Finally, we decided to throw together 'collectible' packets, with Tina's hand scribbled notes and my pencil sketches of how I thought her scenes should look. We would send this, along with 11-17 mock ups of our finished pages I printed on the good printer at office oasis. I made sure that we never repeated 'originals' and only offered bits we hadn't previously sold, so in a sense they were one-of-a-kind originals... only our actual process involved her sending me a word file and me sending her a graphic file. There was never any actual physical copy until someone wanted to buy 'the original' and we 'etsy-d' a physical copy to sell as a collectible.

It was becoming a lucrative side business, but was still more of a labor of love. Neither of us was ready to 'quit our day jobs'. Tina still had college and work, and I had my two part time jobs and my fabulous social life. Which was made much easier since I could freely be Chloe.

One day as I was breezing out for dinner and clubbing with friends, Tina asked me about my friends. I stopped and had to think about how to respond.

I raised a finger and smiled. “That's a simple question with an answer that's surprisingly..”

“...Complicated?” Tina rolled her eyes with a laugh.

I returned her smile and nodded. I promised her the full story when we had the time.

That time came a few weeks later. Tina was heading back home for the wedding of one of her cousins. She was muttering about bus schedules when, impulsively, I offered to drive her.

She was stunned at the offer, but almost instantly took me up on it. I used the excuse that I was in need of a change of scene and that I had never visited South Carolina. I could go and act all touristy while she hung with her family and childhood friends. Then we could meet back up for the ride home and she could tell me all about the wedding.

I had already scouted out a B&B near Greenville that had good online reviews. I would drop Tina at her folks' and go off to see the sights.

It was only a few states away, but it was still a long enough drive for Tina to grill me on my often mentioned, never seen friends.

“Are these real friends, or imaginary friends?” She needled me with a smile. “I mean, are they like ...umm Nina's friend Binnie on Just Shoot Me? Or Niles' wife on Frasier? ….Do they really exist? And then, why haven't I met them?” She smiled.

I indulged myself an eye roll then focused back on my driving.

“They most definitely DO exist!” I laughed. “And you haven't met them because....” I thought long and hard. Then I quietly smiled. “Yeah. You really should meet them. But first, there's some things you should know.”

And since we had the time on the long drive, I took the long way on my story. Talking about my early life. How I remember being a happy little kid. Mostly due to cluelessness. How I thought I was just an average kid, even though I was the only little kid in a neighborhood full of elderly people. I was never lonely. I had a good imagination and could entertain myself. On bad weather days I would happily curl up and read. I explained to her how I loved comics from the first one my mom ever bought me. I was instantly hooked on the stories of people who seemed so mundane in their daily lives, but in the secret parts no one could see, they were special in their own way. On nice days I would live outside. Wandering the neighborhood visiting the old folks who I realized later, sort of adopted me as a surrogate grandchild. I also got along with other kids, since my parents would often visit their friends, all of whom had kids around my age. I always took great pains to be a good guest. Knowing that they didn't ask to be thrown together with me while our parents hung out. I always acceded to what the other kids wanted to do, knowing it was their home and I was just – from their perspective – an uninvited guest. I was as involved or apart from their activities as they wanted. It seemed to work, because before too long we all became genuine friends. That was the case universally, with all my parents friends and their children.

Tina listened patiently as I spilled my entire backstory.

“Only later did I realize there was tension because we all got along so well. I hadn't paid any attention to the fact that all my parents friends happened to have only daughters. But my father did.

Eventually my parents started hanging out with new friends. Who had boys. I took small consolation that the relationships seemed to go as badly for the adults as it did for us kids.

So I wasn't totally surprised when I started school and almost instantly became the outcast. The girls wanted nothing to do with me, not just because I was a 'smelly boy' but because, even worse, they thought I was mimicking them.

The boys wanted nothing to do with me either. Until it occurred to one of them, that I might be fun to play with. As prey.

So that defined my early school years. By middle school I had learned to mimic the boys and stopped being such a target. I simply became invisible. Which was an improvement. In high school, I fell in with another group of self-defined outcasts. The art kids. I enjoyed art and seemed to have a bit of a talent for it. But it was really just being part of a group – even if it was a group of outsiders – that appealed to me. As we got to know each other, I realized that I was even an outsider among the outsiders. Most people assumed I was gay. So I got propositioned a lot. Mostly by peers. Occasionally by teachers and other adults. I always tried to be nice about it, but made it clear I personally had no interest... not in them, not in anyone. I didn't tell them that I found the male body vaguely repugnant... including my own. Soon the word got out that ...even if no one believed I really wasn't gay... that it was pretty clear that I wasn't interested.

The one relation I kind of had was with Grace Coolidge. She was one of the drama kids. We got to talking one day and we just kind of clicked. She would sit and talk while I listened and sketched. I got to know every freckle and laugh line on her face. And for my part I would help her as much as I could. She did makeup and wardrobe and helped with set design. She was also a comic girl and a budding cosplayer. I would help her sketch costume designs, makeup looks and even stage sets for Drama club. I also helped her turn her favorite characters into patterns for her cosplay projects.

One day she asked for my help. She and her friends wanted to talk Mr Dunwoody the drama teacher into an idea. The Drama department was going to do another Shakespeare play – The Tempest, and Grace and her drama friends were rolling their eyes. I made a crack that they should do it as a live action comic with banished superheroes since people were always doing crazy reimaginings of the bard. I was just being snarky, but Grace got all excited and quickly sold some of her other drama club friends on it. The hurdle was getting it past Mr Dunwoody. So her friends Caleb and Jen started reworking the book into more Stan Lee than Bill Shakespeare, Jared and Glen worked up sets that looked more manga than marvel, but they really popped. I sketched out the ideas they described and slowly the idea didn't seem like as much of a joke. We began to think we might be able to get Mr Dunwoody as excited about 'breathing new life into the bard' as we were. But we also had to sell the actors. We figured the easiest way to do that was giving them scenes and lines they would kill for, and a look that would turn heads. Grace was totally inspired. She finally got to mash up her cosplay passion with her drama club side. We worked together on the costume sketches and, yeah, they were spectacular. She just had to actually make them. And sell the actors on them. The person she was most anxious about convincing was notoriously high strung, so she didn't want to go in with a work in progress. She asked me if I could be a stand in while she tweaked it. I of course agreed.

Courtney Matheson was the diva of the drama club, but she was also far more talented than the rest of the drama department combined. The problem was she knew it. So she was insufferable. If we couldn't pitch her on our reimagined Miranda, the whole plan would implode.
When Gracie asked me to help her with Courtney's new look I just rolled my eyes and sighed. Of course. Everyone already thought I was gay. And I had delicate features and a short, slim build. So of course she would want me to be the stand in for Courtney's wardrobe fitting and makeup test. I sighed. Grace was my friend, so of course I would do it.

Grace noticed Courtney and I were physically nearly identical. That is something I had managed to NOT notice until she had me in Courtney's costume while she placed pins and clips and made marks for her alterations. She then spun me around and did the manga makeup she wanted for Courtney's Miranda.

When she finished, she just stepped back and regarded me with this ...look... on her face. Finally, she got it together, swallowed hard and nodded and walked me to the full length mirrors.

I saw the same expression on my own face. Only it wasn't my face. It was someone else. It was a stylized flesh and blood manga character. 'Mangiranda' we had laughingly nicknamed her. She was surreal and hyper-feminine. Yet she was me. I recognized the features. I swallowed hard and recognized something else. Suddenly... and shockingly... I realized I was ….home.

I hadn't realized until that moment that I had been spiritually homeless all my life. I never recognized it until I suddenly and inexplicably saw the reflection in that mirror ...and found myself... truly saw myself... for the first time.

That day. That moment changed both of us. Changed both our lives. We both clearly saw what could not be unseen. Grace saw me and suddenly the friendship we thought we had was shown to be what it always was subconsciously for her. She was crushing on the girl she sensed in me. All of her gay thoughts had been brutally suppressed her entire life, but her attraction to me had slipped by her defenses because I was a guy, so it was 'normal' and therefore OK. And because she thought I was a gay guy, it was also safe. But the moment she saw me as I saw myself in the mirror, there was no denying it. The feelings had already slipped past the guards in her psyche. Now she had to face the fact that they were always for the girl we now saw in the mirror.

As for myself, it was no less shocking. I saw myself and grudgingly admitted that it was myself that I was seeing. And recognizing. For the first time. The person who would eventually become Chloe. Suddenly so many things in my clueless past made sense.

Grace and I quickly drifted apart. There was no acrimony. Just a shared, painful awkwardness. We had both awoken something in each other that neither of us had expected.

Over time I made my peace with my revelation and decided that I must be a crossdresser. I quickly got over any shame. It never felt dirty to me. Just at most a little rebellious. When I moved away to school, I was determined to explore being Chloe.

I learned of a local group of crossdressers. I guess it was a kind of social club. They were quite discreet and guarded their privacy fiercely. I reached out to them and was eventually granted an 'interview' at a local coffee shop. I guess I said the right things and passed the audition because I was quickly granted access. It was a joy to be with others like myself in a safe, accepting environment. I quickly made many friends, and nearly as quickly realized that I was as much an outcast there as I was among the art kids. I was not as into the wardrobe aspect as many of the other girls. We would often go out to dinner or clubbing – mostly to gay bars, where we felt safe from harassment. Ironically, I would almost always be mistaken for one of the supportive wives or girlfriends of my club mates. Over time, I realized I dressed more for comfort than excitement. I wasn't the only one, but we weren't the majority at the club. Over time, we all drifted away from the club scene but kept in touch with each other. Those are the friends I hang out with that you never see. Some live fulltime. Some just do it when they can. Some have very masculine frames and are obviously transgender, and have to deal with that daily. But they all are living their lives as they feel is right for them, and they are all loving and lovely people and dear friends. And.... they're my girlies.... And I'd love for you to meet them, because you're my friend too.”

Which earned me an 'awww' and an arm squeeze from a visibly moved Tina.

“I just have one question.” she grinned.

“Only one?” I smiled, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Whatever happened to The Tempest?”

My laugh was so loud in the tiny space of the car that it was painful. “They got an ambivalent OK from Mr Dunwoody and the actors. It was as amazing as we hoped. And the reaction was ...passionate.” I grinned. “The purists and the PTA hated it, but the students and more ...open minded... audience members, totally loved it. It quickly spawned a skirmish in the culture wars at school. The traditionalists won.” I shot her a quick wink before gluing my eyes back on the road. “Still, even Mr Dunwoody admitted that they put on a show no one would ever forget, and in its own controversial way, kind of became legend.”

“So it changed lives?” Tina grinned.

I nodded. “Two that I know of and probably more.” I laughed as the thought hit me. “I think Mr Dunwoody will be stuck doing Our Town and Music Man until he retires.... but I bet if he had it to do over again, he wouldn't change a thing.”

I felt Tina's eyes on me. “And if you had it to do over again. If you had a redo on agreeing to that costume fitting?”

I shook my head. “Stay ignorant? Not discover myself? Not a chance.”

Tina squeezed my arm. “Good. Because I can't imagine my life if I never met Chloe.”

I smiled. “Probably a lot more normal.”

“And a lot more boring.” she laughed. “I wouldn't take a do-over on any of it either.”

We both settled into a cozy silence as we drove the short distance left to her home.

It was very suburban. A modest brick house with hedges and a small front yard with tidy lawn and a flagpole. The driveway ran beside the house to a small garage in the back, but it was filled with cars.

I parked on the street and helped Tina with her bags. She let herself through the front door and bellowed into the house “Bellboy!” with a broad grin.

Very quickly a small army of people descended on the front foyer where Tina and I stood holding her bags. A large guy with graying hair who reminded me of J.J. Jameson without the cigar and moustache swept Tina into his arms and hoist her off her feet, spinning her around in their hug.

There were two other younger guys, each looking like newer clones of the older guy. They were all well over six feet and looked like linebackers. Or Call of Duty characters.

“Bambina” he exclaimed while he spun her around. Tina's joy quickly turned to self consciousness as the guy continued the hug rather longer than she did.

“How was your drive?” he asked, and before she could answer the woman beside him asked “Are you hungry?”

Tina beamed. “I just want to unpack before anything. But first, Mom, Daddy... this is Chloe.”

Her father raised an eyebrow and said ominously “The infamous roommate.”

I squirmed a little and smiled. I hoped he was kidding.

Tina just smiled, so maybe that was her father's sense of humor.

“Maria and Ken Aldoni” Tina waved towards her folks. “And my brothers Frank and Sal.” The two big guys smiled.

“Is Mike still deployed?” she asked. Her parents both nodded. Her brothers continued smiling at me, and I shifted self consciously.

“It was really great meeting you all..” I said putting down the bags “...but I'm sure you have lots of catching up to do... and wedding stuff... so I don't want to take you. I'll just be off to my..”

“Nonsense!” Tina's mother said. “We have all weekend to catch up. You can't run off without a bite to eat.” I could tell from the tone of her voice that it would be a major insult if I refused her offer.

“That's really not neccess...” I began and saw her face begin to cloud “...but it's awfully generous of you. Thanks.” Clouds dissipated. Storm averted.

“Besides.” Tina's dad said, fixing me with a look. “We have to find all about our little girl's roommate.”

Her two brothers just nodded, smiling. I didn't like their hungry look.

I don't know if Tina's dad caught my hard swallow.

Tina's mom reheated some manicotti and fixed a fresh garden salad.

Tina's dad handled the grilling.

“So how long have you two known each other?” He stared at me.

“It feels like a lot longer that it's actually been” Tina laughed. “It's really just been over a month, but it's like we've known each other forever. Sometimes someone comes along and you really click.... you know?”

Tina's mom nodded smiling. Her father almost hid his grimace.

“You met at work.” He said dryly.

I shook my head. “Oh no. We met before Tina started at the coffee shop. We …..uh...” I had walked full-speed into a corner. I seriously doubted Tina wanted to share with her mom and dad the 'lucky top' encounter. Thankfully, I was rescued by Tina's interruption.

“We bumped into each other at a local ….restaurant.” She blurted. “Chloe rescued me from a bunch of jocks....”

“The bod squad” I smirked.

Tina snorted and nodded.

“Bunch of blowhards.” I muttered. Tina lost it, knowing my true meaning and went red in a fit of giggles.

Her parents gave us a puzzled look. I tried not to catch Tina's contagious laughing, and mostly succeeded.
Tina waved dismissively as she tried to compose herself.

“There's a longer, ...funnier, story there. And I'll tell it when there's time....” Tina smiled, then quietly added “..and some distance.”
Her mom nodded with a small, knowing smile. Her dad scowled.

“So you knew each other before....?” He let the question hang. We both nodded.

“And then the opportunity to move in together came up and we seized it.” Tina beamed.

“It was a great opportunity for both of us.” I interjected. “Tina is SUCH an improvement over my previous roommates.” I gushed.

Tina gave me a warm smile and hand squeeze. Her father caught that and I saw his brow begin to rise before he caught and stifled it.
Tina seemed oblivious to this fleeting interaction. Maybe that was for the best. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in her father's gun-sight.
Tina's mom interrupted the awkward moment.

“Chrissy. Becky Lundquist called and wondered if you were coming back for the wedding. She wants you to call her.”

I mouthed 'Chrissy?' to Tina, who jut rolled her eyes with a slight smile/grimace.

“Thanks mom.” Tina smiled politely. We seemed to be off the inquisition of Tina's roomie, which seemed much more ominous than the chat with Zoe's parents. Who, looking back on it, just thought of me as Chloe's cousin who got roped into moving the entire household. So maybe there was less emotional involvement.

Tina instantly whipped out her phone. Her dad seemed annoyed at this 'inquistion interruptis”. He scowled slightly and got up, leaving the kitchen, but stopping at the door and shooting me a glance.

“We still need to talk... one-on-one. I want to know all about my little girl's roommate.”

I felt the blood leave my face as my mouth went dry and I could tell from his menacing smile, my eyes saucered.

Tina chatted animatedly on the phone for a few minutes, then put it back in her purse and turned to me.

“My friends want to meet up. Any chance I could catch a ride?”

I smiled. “Sure. I want to check into my B&B, but I can drop you on the way” I smiled.

Tina gave a little pout. “Oh. I was hoping you could meet my friends. And that they could meet you.” she said with a slight trace of dejection.

I shrugged. “Well, sure.... but it really will have to be a quick 'Hi' and 'Bye'... I really have to check into my room.

Tina brightened a bit. “OK. You don't have to stay long. I just want you to meet them and for them to see I'm making fabulous friends while I'm off at school.” she smiled with a wink.

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I saw her father stiffen.

“I'm just going up to my room to change. C'mon. Let me show you my room.” She smiled and reached out for my hand.

I could sense her father looking daggers at me. I didn't know what he knew, but until I found out, I would play it safe. I pulled my hand away with a polite smile.

“I'll just wait here.” I said cheerfully. I felt her dad relax ever so slightly. “Don't be long.” I smiled. Really hoping and praying she would NOT be long.

Ken sat back at the kitchen table and gestured for me to sit. It was probably just hospitality, yet I still couldn't shake the feeling I was being interrogated. And he definitely vibed 'bad-cop'. I guess that would make Tina's mom 'good-cop', but she seemed unaware of her role or anyone elses.

Tina's dad just reclined into the chair back and steepled his fingers on the kitchen table. He stared at me. Expressionless. Unblinking. Not saying anything. Just.... staring. If he was trying to make me uncomfortable, he was wildly successful.

“So, Sue...” He finally broke the silence. “Tell me about this place you share with my baby girl.”

From the tone of his voice, I knew he intended to rattle me. But instead he just confused me. I blinked at him trying to process. And when I failed, I just asked.

“Um. Did you just call me Sue?”

He just sat there. Expressionless. Studying me.

“Why did you call me 'Sue'?” I was really confused.

He just stared.

“I'm, uh... Chloe.”

“Of course you are.” he said quietly, eyes still boring in to me.

I think he was trying to intimidate me somehow, but he was really only getting me more perplexed.

“Tina introduced us when we arrived.” I reminded him. No response. Just that damned stare.

Finally I fished in my purse for my wallet. “Don't you believe me? Do you need to see my license?” I began to open the wallet, ready to show him my never-questioned fake I.D.

He just waved it off.

“Put that away. Did Christina tell you anything about me? Anything at all?”

I nodded.

“Didn't you think when my little girl calls and tells us she's met someone and is moving out of the dorms to move in with them, that I wouldn't at least attempt to do a background check?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. Oh crap. Her dad, the still connected security guy ran a background check on me. I always took great care to leave as few footprints as I could online, but I knew he was ex military and no doubt still had friends in homeland security.... and now that he was a private security guy, he might also have access to people in ...other, sketchier groups who could snoop in places the 'proper authorities' were not allowed. He probably knew all about me. But I was going to make him tell me. I was not going to spill anything. And if he was such a super sleuth, one thing still bothered me.

“So why did you call me Sue?”

I was certain he did it to rattle me, but it backfired. My continued confusion was winding him up.

“Enough with the innocent act. I have a dossier on you as long as my arm. I have no idea how you managed to keep such widespread and public behavior a secret from your own parents. Maybe they're clueless, but I doubt that. Your father's too sharp to be clueless. I presume they're just turning a blind eye. But still, I can't understand how anyone, unless he was clueless, could supply you the means to seduce and corrupt my daughter.” His voice was quiet and menacing as he glared at me.

All I could do was furrow my brow and tilt my head. I knew this guy was trying to be scary, but it wasn't working.

“You're making no sense.” I said, making no attempt to hide my bewilderment. “I must be missing something here because I have no idea what you're saying.”

He narrowed his eyes and regarded me. “Really?” He finally said, nearly under his breath.

It was clear he was trying to out-bluff me. But I wasn't bluffing. I truly had no idea what on earth he as talking about.

“Why can't I believe you?” He said through a tight and ominous smile. “You get your father to set you up in this big house.... far too big for one person... and then you lure my daughter to move in with you.... to seduce her? ...to recruit her?” He near whispered. The quiter he got the more menacing he became.

I just sat there staring at him, confusion on my face. His reaction told me he noticed instantly when I had the 'ah-ha!' moment. Although I don't think he was expecting my wide smile.

I couldn't resist my chuckle. Super-spy did his due diligence, but his intel was faulty.

“My father didn't set me up anywhere.” I tried to dampen my grin, but I was enjoying this.

“I don't know whats in that 'dossier as long as your arm'....” I made gleeful air quotes. “But I'm guessing it's on Zoe....”

Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Zoe Butcher?” I smiled. “Tina's other roommate.... I mean our other roommate? It's her dad's place. Tina told me about it because she knew about my ...less than ideal... roommate situation and she was eager to get away from the dorms. She knew Zoe's dad wanted her to have at least two other roommates, so she asked me.”

Tina's dad just stared at me. Only this time it wasn't that intense inquisitor's stare. He looked like a really disoriented golden retriever.

“It's an easy mistake to make. Chloe. Zoe. God, we sound like members of a 1970s pop group!” I grinned. “Let's start from the top...” I pushed my chair back and stood, extending my hand to the still-sitting Ken.

“Hi. I'm Chloe. Chloe Saville. Ti....Christina's other housemate.”

“Chloe... NOT Zoe....” He kind of muttered. I nodded, and continued beaming my friendly smile, although inside I was wondering just what this guy's game was.

“Chloe.......?” He was still rather perplexed.

“Saville.” I repeated. Still smiling.

“S-a-v-i-l-l-e?” He spelled it out. I nodded again.

“Very good. And on the first try.” I grinned. “Did you ever work for a dictionary?”

He just looked at me. The confusion was fading quickly, and once again the scary face was returning. I was sure before the day was out he was going to have his spies digging up everything they could on ME. And I was hoping I had covered my tracks as well as I tried.

This guy was still creepy, but I wasn't as intimidated as I had been. All his snooping and he seemed completely unaware that his daughter had TWO housemates. So he wasn't infallible. Suddenly I felt a lot more confident that I might be able to keep Chloe apart from Tom.

He regrouped.

“So the three of you live together?”

I nodded.

“What do you know about this ….Zoe...?”

I could hear the air quotes in his voice. I played a hunch.

“You mean Sue?”

His eyebrow shot up and his eyes narrowed. He nodded.

I smiled.

“Ha! I don't know much at all about her. Tina met her at work and told me about the roommate thing. Zoe's dad insisted. She's kind of …..edgy. I got the feeling he wanted her to have positive role models, since from what little I know about her, she seemed to be really bad at finding her own. As for the Sue thing.... I don't know a thing, but you used the name when you thought I was Zoe.... so I figured there was something in that 'dossier as long as your arm'.... so why don't YOU tell ME?” I grinned.

Instantly his body language got very defensive. He leaned into himself crossing his arms and scowled at me. He did not like having the tables turned. He said nothing.

I waited a while, and when it became clear he was not even going to acknowledge anything I said, I plowed forward.

“I'll take that as 'no comment'... whatever...” I smiled dismissively. “I'll just find out for myself. Let's see if my intel is better than yours.”

He twitched. This guy was not happy. But after the way he treated me, I could not care less.

Tina bounced back into the room, looking much younger and more carefree than I was used to. I don't know if it was something unconscious about her being in her childhood home, or if it was deliberate before meeting her old high school friends, but she looked about 17.

“All set! Let's go.” she said breezily as she swooped in to give her father a peck on the cheek. “Bye daddy.” She chirped and spun to her mother who was sorting stuff in the refrigerator, although I really think it was her way of being present but not a part of the room during the conversation between Ken and me. “Bye mom. I'll be back in time for supper.”

Her mom turned to smile and opened her mouth to speak, but Tina cut her off with a grin.

“I promise. I will NOT spoil my appetite.” Tina's mom instantly calmed.

Tina ducked in and grabbed me by the hand. “Let's go!” she chirped as she nearly skipped out of the room with me in tow.

“So what did you guys talk about while I was upstairs getting changed?” Tina grinned. “Did daddy grill you for all the dirt on our 'girls gone wild' house?” She laughed.

I smiled back.

“Actually, he didn't. All he seemed to want to talk about was ….me.”

Tina grimaced slightly. “Sorry. I should have warned you. He gets a little ...overprotective. I don't know whether it's because I'm 'the baby' of the family...” I caught her air quotes in my peripheral vision “...or because I'm the only girl.... but he's always been like that.” Then she laughed. “Oh, God... some of the stuff he did to my dates in high school.... just be thankful you're not a BOY!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye as her hands clapped over her mouth. I could just imagine her mortified expression.

“Oh, GOD!” she exclaimed. “I'm SO.... I mean... I never meant....”

I laughed, which seemed to calm her fluster.

“T....” I said, not realizing at the time that I had never used Zoe's nickname before. “S'okay.” I chuckled. “I get it. And yeah, I'm sure it would have been brutal.... but weirdly, better in ONE way....”

THAT distracted her. I gave it a moment, focusing on my driving.

“....At least he wouldn't have confused me for Zoe.” I laughed.

Now she was really confused. And the more confused she got, the funnier that whole uneasy encounter began to feel.

“What? He thought you were....”

“Apparently he didn't know you have TWO housemates.” I interrupted.

I could feel her staring at me.

“What exactly DID you tell your parents?” I asked.

“Um. I always talked to mom. My dad's not a big phone person. I told her.... I thought I mentioned.... I MUST have told her.... ….didn't I?.....” she muttered to herself.

I caught her shrug in my peripheral vision.

“Well, I don't know whether it's like a game of....” I chuckled at the irony “...telephone...” I grinned “...or what, but your dad seemed to only know about Zoe. And apparently he knows a LOT about Zoe. Or thinks he does.” I grinned.

Tina groaned. “I told him to STOP doing that!” She nearly growled. “Oh, God. In high school I was nearly undate-able! He went all 'background check' on guys who asked me out and freaked the hell out of them. Soon word got out and I was untouchable. I finally came right out and asked a guy who I KNEW liked me. I figured I had nothing left to lose. Finally, he admitted the stories he heard from other guys. I was nice and all, so they weren't talking about me. But the things they said about my dad.... and I knew they were all probably true. Maybe exaggerated a little, but then again maybe not. I could totally see him doing all those things. And at other times and circumstances, I had. My brothers are all still kind of afraid of him.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. He sort of freaked me out at first. But when I realized he thought I was Zoe and had no idea you had another roommate, I realized he was NOT infallible.... and... kind of turned the tables.” I said the last bit almost under my breath.

Tina gasped. “You DIDN'T!!!” I could hear the glee in her voice.

I nodded with a grin. Eyes still on the road. “I don't think he was expecting THAT.” I chuckled.

“Ohmigod! What did he DO???” She laughed.

“Didn't really have time to do much. That's about when you popped back into the kitchen and spirited me away.” I smiled. “But at least now he knows you have two housemates.”

I sensed her nod.

“...And I presume at this moment he's probably preparing his background check on ME.” I smiled.

Tina started to chuckle, which was interrupted by a sharp gasp. “Oh, shit!”

I reached out and squeezed her arm. “Yeah. But don't worry. I spent my life building a firewall between Chloe and Tom. ….And he proved by mistaking me for Zoe that he's not perfect. So I have no reason to doubt that it will hold.” I tried to reassure her. And myself.

We got to the Applebees by the mall and Tina recognized some of her girlfriends cars. I dutifully followed her in and met Becca, Lauren and Susie. Which reminded me. I leaned into Tina and whispered. “Remind me to ask you about Sue.”

Tina gave me a perplexed look as her eyes darted to her friend Susie.

“No. Another Sue. Not here. Something your father said. Remind me later.” I whispered.

Tina nodded and I got to chat with her friends awhile before heading off to my bed and breakfast and getting all touristy.

I settled into my bed & breakfast, which was just as charming as it seemed online.

I met Charles, the proprietor and his mom, Mrs Claypoole. After I got settled, they invited me downstairs to share tea. We chatted and I got an interrogation every bit as thorough as Tina's father. Only this was amiable and seemed based on genuine curiosity. It was also 'full duplex' as my father the engineer would say. I learned at least as much about them as they did about me.

Charles loved to travel, and during the year between high school and college, he decided to 'see the world' with his mother's blessing. Charles, it seems, was an only child and was always close to his mom. Mr Claypoole seemed to have been out of the picture nearly forever. When I brought him up, mother and son just brushed it off. It didn't seem to be a painful or secretive part of their past, he just seemed... incidental and inconsequential.

So, doting mother and precocious adoring son, stayed a tight unit. I remembered the relationship between son and mother in 'Garp' – which I read in high school. And I got a similar vibe from these two strong, supportive souls.

When Charles informed his mom that he wanted to 'repurpose' his college fund to continue traveling and learning about the world, I was not surprised to learn that she enthusiastically agreed.

Charles actually did continue some informal studies at various schools in countries he visited. He would teach English as a second language, and as part of his arrangement, was permitted to audit various classes. So in addition to traditional learning, he was also learning about cultural variations, studying history, literature, social studies and even touches of philosophy and medicine, all from distinctly 'foreign' perspectives. He described it using a musical metaphor. Equating his domestic education as learning to play in a standard 8-note scale, with conventional rhythms and time signatures. As he traveled the world, he learned new instruments and tonal structures and beat patterns, expanding his ways of looking at the world.

I smiled and nodded. Charles truly was a gallivanting ex-pat, a cultural nomad, roaming the world and soaking up different cultures like a sponge. He loved people, he was gregarious and quickly disarmed most of the folks he met who were inherently suspicious of strangers. He was a do-it-yourself cultural ambassador without portfolio... as curious to learn from the people he'd meet as he was to share his own stories of the other places he'd been and people he'd met.

Then his world changed when word finally reached him that his mom had taken ill. She had suffered a series of strokes and was in a nursing home. She was in the custody of social workers who were scrambling to find her next of kin. In a lucid moment, his mom had communicated enough to the social worker to put them on the right track. He was contacted by someone from the U.S. Consulate, and rushed home immediately.

It was clear from the moment he arrived, that his mom was not doing well, and may not ever be able to go home. After a thorough briefing from her social workers, Charles stepped up and began managing her affairs. She was alarmingly close to losing her house and having all her assets impounded to cover her escalating nursing home expenses. It took a good bit of wrangling with bureaucrats and a large dose of trust from the social workers on his mother's case, but eventually he was able to get everyone to come around to his plan. Since his mother wasn't getting any better in the nursing home, and the bills were just piling up, Charles finally got reluctant permission to get her released and taken home in his full-time care, with regular visiting nurse and social worker schedules.

The powers that be may have agreed to it as a form of home hospice care, yet within weeks it was obvious that returning to her own home under the full-time care of her doting son, Mrs Claypoole had not only stopped declining, but was slowly beginning to get better. The change in environment, and attention of a loved one, had seemingly resuscitated her will to live. Or as Charles laughingly put it, his mother got her 'mojo' back.

While she was getting steadily better, and eventually the time came when visiting nurse and social worker calls were no longer necessary, everyone knew they could not go back to their old pre-stroke lives. His mom could not live alone, and Charles could not walk away from her. They put their heads together, and came up with their plan. They would turn the home into a B&B. Charles would take care of it and his mom would help as she could. The income would help pay down the medical bills and she would no longer be in danger of losing her home. And Charles could still meet people. ….only instead of gallivanting the world, now he would have to draw the interesting people to visit him.

Charles was charming and loquacious, and his mother was gracious and mostly quiet, but every once in a while she would chirp up and add something which made a delightful garnish to our conversation. This spry and lucid little old lady was a far cry from the description of the stroke victim wasting away in the nursing home. I had no doubt that her son's personal sacrifice not only saved her life but restored its quality. They were captivating company, and I was stunned to realize how much time had passed while we chatted over tea.

I wanted to see the town, but it was already well into the evening, so I decided to get a good night's sleep and 'do the town' well rested the next morning. As I went to put my phone on its charger, I noticed a text from Tina.

“Thanks for meeting my friends. They love you and say I did well ;-)”

I grinned at texted back. “Glad to hear. I thought they were great too. …..Could any of them talk with your dad? :-)”

I woke to the aroma of bacon and coffee. I imagine I sleepily floated down to the dining room like one of those cartoon critters wafted on the vapors of that amazing olfactory bouquet. In reality, I likely staggered into the kitchen like a zombie.

“Morning sunshine!” Charles chirped. “This isn't really part of the package, but after our delightful chat last evening, I thought you might appreciate a home cooked breakfast.”

I flashed a groggy smile. “I thought 'Bed & Breakfast' implied a cozy pace to sleep and maybe cheese and a muffin in the morning.... You really shouldn't have.” I halfheartedly protested. Charles shot me a grin. “...but I'm glad you did.”

He happily turned back to his stove and flipped the slices of bacon sizzling in the pan.

“While bacon is maybe my first true love, we're.... spending some time apart.” I smiled patting my thighs. “Although I'm sorely tempted to ask you to put those slices in a bag so I can huff the aroma.”

Charles laughed loud and hard and nodded with a smile.

“Please don't tell me you don't do coffee!” He mock pleaded, pouring a fragrant cup and handing it to me.

I let out a theatrical sigh and accepted his cup, addressing it in a very Blanche DuBois delivery. “I know you're no good for me and will someday bring me to ruin.... but I just can't quit you!”

Charles laughed. “So, if you don't mind me asking, what are your plans for the day?”

I cradled the coffee cup in my hands and gazed into space, considering his question, mindlessly drumming my fingers on the coffee cup.

“I've never been here before. I guess I'll explore the town... you know, artist spaces, galleries, performance venues... that sort of thing. I guess I'm on a quest for culture.”

“Godspeed, Margaret Mead!” Charles laughed. “May I suggest a few spots? Just to save you some time thrashing through the cultural ….underbrush?”

I beamed at him. “That would be most appreciated.”

“Not that the thrill of discovery isn't delicious, but I know all about poking around relentlessly until you find something worthy of your time and attention.” he smiled.

I nodded, then said quietly “Do you miss it? Roaming the world?”

Charles smiled. “I loved every minute of it. But my mom needs me now. The world will always be there.”

I reached out and squeezed his hand. “You're a good son. She's lucky to have you.”

“And I'm lucky to have her. When I hear some of the stories from friends....” He involuntarily shuddered. “....well.... I guess we're lucky to have each other.”

I nodded. “So what do you do when you're not ….minding the manor?” I smiled.

Charles shrugged. “The usual. Nascar. Pool Halls.... Titty bars.” He deadpanned.

I lowered the coffee from my lips and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He couldn't hold his poker face. Charles erupted in a guffaw, then got serious again. “I help some friends who have a gallery downtown.... I won't say which one, but it's one of the ones on your list.” He grinned.

“I'll just have to ask everyone if they know you.” I grinned back.

“Oh girl, they all know me. How do you think I made you that list? All us art outcasts know each other! I'm also involved with the local community theater company and I help now and then with the drama department at our local community college.”

“Orchestrator? Choreographer? Lighting director?” I queried.

Charles smiled. “Set designer. Once upon a time I fancied myself an artist don'cha know.”

“You still are!” I smiled. “This place is the quintessential B&B. It's like the master from which every other one was copied.”

Charles blushed. “You are too generous in your praise mademoiselle. Keep that up and soon I'll suspect you're trying to charm me out of the deed to my momma's property!"

I giggled. “Not a bad idea. I could copy this place and franchise clones around the world as 'Mrs Claypoole's Original American Bed and Breakfast' I'd be the Disneyland meets McDonald's of B&Bs!”

Now it was Charles' turn to raise an eyebrow at me.

“Y'know” he said quietly. “That's not half bad..... A lot of the places I've been.... it would be a welcome novelty.....” and his attention turned from me to gaze into space, lost in thought.

I finished my coffee and gathered my things. “Thanks for the list.” I smiled. “I'm off to see your fair city.”

Charles' list turned out to be invaluable.

I was stunned by the creativity and adventurousness I saw in the venues he recommended.

I might have expected this in New York or Paris.... but in Greenville? It was such an advantage to have a skilled curator overseeing your explorations...

I saw some amazing art installations and some very ahead of the curve performances. It truly was a treasure trove of culture. When I spoke to the artists and curators they all laughed.

“Oh, honey.... don't give us swelled heads. We're just an odd distraction to the primary art forms in this city.” Lisa & Bo, a couple of really amazing performance artists gracefully dismissed my gushing.

When I shot them a perplexed look, they'd laugh. “Line dancing. Cover bands. Sing-along bars....”

“You mean Karaoke?” I asked. They shook their head emphatically.

“Too 'forrin' ...good-ole all-american sing-along bars.” They said with a look that made their feelings crystal clear. “THAT's the real art scene in this town.”

“So why don't you move?” I asked. “What I've seen looks like it would be right at home in New York or L.A. ….or Paris or Madrid.”

They shrugged. “Those places are all great. And they all have great art. Cutting edge stuff. Attitude changing stuff. We'd just be... at best.... more of it. But here... even if hardly anyone cares.... here... we're all of it.... our stuff stands out more here... has a chance to make more of a difference here... than it would in a city that already has plenty of world changing art. And, we love the people here, even if they really don't exactly love us back. They may not get us, but they let us do our thing, and they're at least gracious about the fact that they don't really get us. It's a comfortable climate... weather-wise and socially... nice people and affordable housing.” Lisa said.

“We may be on the outskirts of the art world, but for some of us who don't really need to suffer for our art, it's a comfortable place to be. And every now and then a nice stranger happens along and seems to really get us... and that makes it all worthwhile.” Bo grinned.

I blushed. “I must confess.... I had outside help. ….actually more like inside help.” I smiled and waved the piece of paper Charles gave me. Lisa took the list from my hand and looked it over. A look of wry amusement crossed her face.

“Charlie Claypoole.” She grinned to Bo, who nodded with a knowing smile.

I nodded sheepishly. He didn't even have to say 'I should have known'.

“He really is a one man chamber of commerce” I smiled. Bo nodded grinning.

“He should have a blog or something.... 'Hidden Greenville'.... a guide to the amazing art hiding in plain sight.” I muttered offhandedly.

Lisa lit up. “Yes. Yes he should! He's a charming storyteller. He should have a blog.... or a podcast.... he could tell tales of his world travels and intersperse them with interviews about interesting things going on around his current home base....” Bo was nodding enthusiastically, really liking this as the idea developed.

“And...” I raised a finger, getting caught up in the enthusiasm, “...he could talk about things going on around the vicinity of his new home base... Mrs Claypoole's B&B.... conveniently close to all of Greenville's hidden artistic treasures!” I grinned.

“So the blog and podcast cast a light on Greenville's undiscovered art scene and the perfect spot to stay when someone comes to see for themselves what they've read about on the blog or heard in the podcast!” Bo's eyes widened as if the words he was speaking was a revelation from somewhere else.

I grinned and nodded. “The blog & podcast are about the city and its undiscovered art scene, but the raconteur narrating it and the B&B he runs, are inherent product placement!”

“Ohmigod. That's brilliant!” Lisa gushed. “I can't believe none of us ever thought of that before!”

Suddenly Bo got silent, pulled back almost subliminally, and shot me a look.

With raised eyebrow he quietly muttered “....are you a muse?”

My laugh startled and disarmed him.

“God NO! I'm just an artist.”

I moved on to the next gallery on my list and was surprised to see a collection of very contemporary pieces... many of which seemed quite familiar. I'm sure many of them were from the 'deviant arts' website, but these all looked like original pieces. The exhibit was called “Gone in 60 nanoseconds – Ephemeral art and the sublime cloud” with an image of a sky with clouds shaped like Michaelangelo's Sistene chapel 'Creation', Mickey Mouse and Elvis.... all portrayed as cumulus Rorschachs. I got the premise immediately. Internet art was at once instantly pervasive and utterly ephemeral... like the image seared on the retinas of a crowd for a brief moment of time by a camera flash.

I was really enjoying the exhibit and the conceit behind it when I was jarred out of my reverie by one unexpected piece.

A zombie's-eye view of shoppers at a mall, all conspicuously ignoring the observer, whose perspective is the subject of the stark black and white woodcut-type image.

It was one of our “collectible” pieces from Plague Diaries. And it had a small card attesting to its source. Along with the asking price.

$500.

I couldn't resist. I whipped the phone out of my purse and shot a picture of the display card and price tag when I was immediately accosted by an officious gallery guy.

“No photographs! This is a gallery NOT a roadside attraction!” Bernard, the gallery owner glowered. “If you want it, BUY it! You can't just steal it to your iPhone!”

He was SO snooty, I couldn't completely suppress my smirk. He was like a cartoon of an art snob.

“Oh, PLEASE!” I replied haughtily and caught myself mimicking his demeanor. It was too easy to fall into that lampoonish caricature. With great effort, I damped it down and continued in my own tone of voice. “I'm well aware of most of this art. It's ALL available online in much better resolution than I could get on my phone!” I turned the screen to him, pointing out how I had focused on his description card and price tag. “I was just photographing the information card and price to send to my ….partner.”

Instantly his demeanor changed and he transformed from haughty offense to the model of unctuousness... though he was still haughty.

“Intriguing, no?” He whispered. “”A new artist from an exploding new internet serial.... are you familiar with 'Plague Diaries'?” He said quietly and ominously as if he was sharing directions to the fountain of youth, or the zipcode of the lost city of Atlantis.

I tried to suppress my smirk and nodded.

“Quite familiar.” I croaked, still trying to squelch my mirth.

“It's a sensation! Such brilliant storytelling.... it seems like another ordinary zombie tale.... zombies are all the rage right now.... but look deeper and there's so much.... subtext.... and those images.... like this.... the people at the mall.... all oblivious.... but all so subconsciously ….colluding.... to willfully ignore the truth staring them in the face daring to be seen....” he drew in a breath. “Powerful.... Groundbreaking. $500 is a steal! When this hits mainstream.... we're talking Warhol or Roy Lichtenstein prices.”

“Who is this next Warhol or Lichtenstein?” I inquired struggling to keep a straight face.

“His name is right here. The stories are by Taldone. He puts his name on every issue, but he let slip in an interview that he doesn't do the art. This is the artist's logo right here.” and he pointed to the nearly subliminal purple glyph on the otherwise stark black and white print.

“What does that say?” I asked the expert trying to sell me a $500 print from the good printer at office oasis.

“It doesn't say anything. It's a logo. The artist's imprint.”

“A glyph? Like Prince, when he was the artist formerly known as....?”

“Exactly!” He nodded enthusiastically. “It's like a brand. A trademark. An icon.”

“So. Not a name....” I said dejectedly.

He shook his head. “No. The artist guards his privacy above all else. That's why he only signs his work with this ….glyph... as you called it.” The guy was beginning to sell himself on his blustering sales pitch.

“How do you know it's a 'HE'?” I asked innocently.

“....Well..... just look at the starkness.... the ….brutality.... of this portrayal.... it's a graphic novel for chrissakes..... Alan Moore.... Frank Miller.... Art Spiegelman.... Daniel Clowes... Venditti.... obviously Taldone wouldn't hire a girl to bring his haunting story to life.”

“So, Taldone's a guy....” I said, with a hint of a question in my tone. He nodded.

“....Who hired this mystery artist to illustrate his story...”

“More than illustrate. The art and story are greater than the sum of their parts. There's an artistic symmetry that raises this beyond mere storytelling. This is epic. Prophetic. This is Homer. Orwell. Salinger. Gibson. This will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

It was a good sales pitch. He pretty much had me convinced.... at least convinced that he believed that hyperbole he was spouting.

“Next big thing, huh?” I asked rather skeptically.

He nodded emphatically.

“$500?”

He nodded again. I think he was beginning to believe there might be a sale here.

“Worth every cent. And sure to appreciate. This is just beginning to blow up. Soon people will be clamoring for these pieces.”

“But it looks like it was just printed on a giant industrial printer. It could be one of millions.... or just an internet file infinitely reproducible on giant printers.” I opined.

He shook his head. “Yeah. No. Sure.... it's possible... the files are online... but this is signed by the artist. Look. That's your guaranty of originality.”

I crossed my arms and regarded the piece. I had this guy on the hook and was savoring it.

“Mmmmm....” I muttered ambivalently. “Do you have a business card?”

He reached into his jacket and quickly proffered one with the speed of a gunfighter.

I fished into my purse and found my purple gelpen. I quickly jotted my logo on the back of his card and handed it back to him. His initial confusion at receiving his card back was compounded when he turned it over and stared at the back.

“It's not a logo. Not exactly. It's my last name. Very stylized... but my name. Saville. See?” and with the tip of my purple gelpen, the very same one I had used to sign the piece he was trying to sell me for $500, I pointed out all the letters stylized and stacked atop one another.

He shot me a look of profound incomprehension. It was a delight watching the clouds clear and seeing the slowly dawning realization bloom on his face.

“Taldone?” I said matter of factly. “That's my partner. T Aldone. Tina Aldone. Actually Christina, but she prefers Tina.... so T.... Aldone. Her story. Her world. I just give her world its images.”

His look was a mix of bewilderment, incomprehension, and a vague sense that he was really in the wrong place at the wrong time and had really stepped in it. Only he couldn't quite grasp what 'it' was. His profound disorientation had a surprisingly relaxing effect on me. I felt far less defensive and much more generous at bringing this poor schlub up to speed.

I reached into my purse and produced my wallet, letting it fall open to the clear pocket showing my fake I.D. I extended my hand.

“Hi. Chloe. Chloe Saville.” I smiled. The guy just continued to stare.

I smirked. Then regarded his $500 display piece. I shook my head with a grin.

“We've only been charging $35 each for these....” Then it occurred to me to shoot the guy a look. “Yes. Each is a one of a kind. The originals are all digital files from paintshop, but once printed and hand signed, I check it off my list. There are no two copies. Not originals anyway. And clever of you to notice they're all hand-signed in ink” I wiggled the gelpen in my fingers. “To validate originality.”

I turned back to regard the piece on the wall, or actually, the card under it with the description and the price.

“$500? Do you really think anyone will pay that kind of money for ….this?” and I waved at the piece.

He nodded, regaining his composure.

“Absolutely.” He deadpanned.

“Tina Aldone will be really mad when I tell her what we could have been charging for these....” I put on a rueful pout. “You wouldn't believe how I had to twist her arm to charge $35.... which barely covers materials and postage.” I shook my head sadly.

The guy got ...a look. I could tell he felt that he was being punked. What were the odds that the 'mystery artist' would show up at his gallery.... in Greenville of all places... and that this 'next Warhol or Lichtenstein' would be... gasp.... a woman! I could see on his face as he talked himself out of everything I was saying.

“So, I take it you're not interested....” He said icily.

“In paying you $500 for something I drew in an afternoon and printed for $18?” I smiled.

He shot me a cold glare that said 'give up whatever scam you're trying to pull, I'm on to you missy'. “Suit yourself” he said, dripping with contempt and turned to leave.

“This really is an impressive collection.” I said, “...That piece notwithstanding...” I grinned and cocked a thumb at the Plague Diaries print. “What inspired you to do an exhibit of internet art?”

“It was a decision by the gallery board. This is an explosive movement in the art world. The internet makes it both easier for patrons to find great art and makes actually collecting and compiling the works far more elusive since it's all so....”

“...ephemeral” I muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“So it was decided by ….the gallery trustees.... to obtain as many unique physical artifacts as possible and offer them for sale to discerning collectors.”

“The gallery trustees?” I raised an eyebrow, Bernard simply nodded. “You mean like a boardroom full of investors? They hardly seem the type to make aesthetic....”

Bernard began shaking his head vigorously. “No. No no no NO! ….The trustees are a select group of principals with a financial investment in the gallery, the physical real estate, and a longtime patron of the arts and world traveler with impeccable credentials as a discerning judge of a myriad of art forms.”

I nodded. It sure sounded like Charles.

“Well, I must agree, your patron of the arts has a really keen eye. And it must be refreshing for a world traveler to avoid jet lag and find such a diverse and captivating selection from the comfort of the computer in her own den.”

“HIS own den” Bernard corrected ….haughtily.

I nodded solemnly. He took my bait and chomped down hard.

“Good luck with the exhibit.” I finger waved as I began to walk toward the lobby. “And if you find someone to pay you half a kilo for that....” I cocked my head to the P.D. print, “Don't worry about an empty space. Tell Charlie Claypoole to ring me up and we'll get you another piece pronto.”

Bernard began to chase after me, but then stopped. He probably realized he'd have no idea what to do if he actually caught up with me. As I made my way out of the gallery and onto the street, I sent the photo to Tina with the caption “You'll never believe what I found.”

She texted back almost immediately. “OMG! You're pranking me, right? Where ARE you? Come join us!”

“Doing galleries in Greenville. Where are YOU?”

“Olive Garden.”

“Now YOU are pranking ME! Does your mother know????”

“Hahaha. I know, right? My friends like it. So yeah. Join us.”

“Save me a breadstick. ...Directions?”

“...across from the MALL....duh!”

“Duh. :-D On my way.”

By the time I got to Olive garden, Tina and her friends were working on dessert and Tina was nursing an espresso. I raised an eyebrow at Tina the part time barista. She read my mind.

“Just checking out the competition” she smiled raising her demitasse cup to me.

I nodded back with a smile.

“So Chloe... where you been keeping yourself girl?” Tina's friend Lauren asked.

“Oh, I was just exploring Greenville....” I smiled.

“Ooooh. City mouse!” Suzie chuckled.

“Oooh. You've got to go to Beau's...” Becca added “...they have line dancing on weekends...”

I smiled politely.

Suzie nodded. “....Great line dancing....”

“...GREAT line dancers...” Lauren leered.

Suzie went beet red, but nodded shyly.

I caught Tina's tiny eye roll and smiled.

“Beau's. Got it. Thanks guys.” I smiled.

“Oh, don't thank us now....” Becca grinned

“....Thank us LATER” Lauren finished her sentence with a lewd smirk.

Tina's grin said it all. These were the friends she grew up with. No wonder she felt lonesome in the dorms.

Lauren placed both hands palms down on the table and swept her gaze across us like an expectant coach. “Alright. Are we through here?”

Everyone nodded resolutely. The mood seemed quite serious. I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was about to line up and hurl themselves from a plane like paratroopers in some old black and white war movie.

“Chloe. Are you with us?” Lauren asked, a serious expression carved upon her face. I felt the rest of the group regarding me intensely.

“That depends....” I said equally seriously, although inside my only emotion was mild confusion. “I can't shake the feeling that you're all about to rob a bank or kidnap a politician or something.” I said with a slight smile and a cocked head.

That had its hoped for effect. The mood instantly lightened.

“No silly!” Suzie giggled. “We're going shopping!”

Tina gave me a playful elbow to the ribs and leaned in to quietly mutter in my ear “But by the time we're through, you may wish we all had robbed a bank.”

The grin on her face was so relaxed and so filled with youthful glee, I understood why she had to return to reconnect with her lifelong friends.

I smiled and shrugged to the group. “Where do we start?”

I now understood the strategic importance of the gathering at Olive Garden. Tina said it herself and I hadn't picked up on it. 'Across from the MALL... Duh.'

I suddenly recognized the brilliance of everyone who placed their chain restaurant across from, or within, a mall.

We took two cars. Tina's friends piled into Lauren's Acura while Tina joined me in my Hyundai and we drove the 1500 feet or so across the state highway to the mall.

It wasn't a prestigious mall. There wasn't a Nordstrom or Nieman Marcus, or even an Apple store. But there was a J C Penney and a Kohls at opposite corners and and a dark shadow at the third. Tina caught my glance and mouthed 'Sears'. I frowned and nodded, turning my attention to the well lit sections of the mall.

While I was scoping out the mall, Lauren, it seems was scoping out ME. I caught her clinical gaze and wondered for a moment if she hadn't suddenly become possessed by the spirit of Tim Gunn. She made little tsk clicks with her tongue as her eyes scanned me up one side and down the other.

“I can work with this.” She finally muttered to Tina, who shot me a conspiratorial smirk. “But it will take an army.” And she flashed me a sly grin.

Becca and Suzie immediately flanked her and saluted. “Here sir!” They beamed in unison.

From the evil grin on Tina's face I realized I had just been conscripted into a ritual that went back a long time for these four childhood friends.

“Where did you get those shoes?” Lauren demanded, her voice dripping with disapproval. “They're so.... sensible...”

I never knew 'sensible' could be a curse word until that moment. I opened my mouth to explain that I spent the day walking around Greenville, but suddenly her face changed and she looked genuinely contrite.

“Oh, God. I'm sorry. …..are they...” her voice fell to a stage whisper as she slid her hand to her mouth as if trying to block distant lip readers “...orthopedic?”

I flushed crimson and saw Tina's evil smirk. These were her friends. And in a twisted catty way, I had just been baptised into the group.

I opened my mouth again to explain, trying to push down my blush. “I just....”

“...came from church? ...had your shoes robbed and had to roll a hobo?....” Lauren inquired with breezy contempt.

I glared at her and she broke into a grin. Apparently satisfied that her needling finally got its desired reaction. She waved her hand airily.

“Nothing we can't fix.” she said as she spun and quickly strode off into the heart of the mall, her minions scrambling to catch up with her.

Tina looked over her shoulder as I still stood in mild shock, giving me a 'hurry up, catch up' gesture as she grinned wickedly.

I rolled my eyes and quickly caught up to the group, thanks in no small part to my despised 'sensible shoes'.

Lauren and her flock breezed into the designer shoe outlet as Tina waited for me by the door.

“Hi Darren!” Lauren said loudly to a clerk who was waiting on another customer. The young man smiled and waved while the middle aged woman he was with scowled at the interruption.

He quickly wrapped up and sent the woman on her way, much to her obvious displeasure and scurried over to our group.

“How may I be of service today m'lady?” he asked with a smile and a gleam.

Lauren pouted. “We're having a fashion intervention. We need your expertise.”

Darren looked at Tina's feet and pursed his lips, bringing his curled fingers to his lower lip, lost in thought. “I don't know....” he muttered skeptically.

Lauren slapped his arm. “Not HER.....” she snapped. She grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me in front of the young man. “THIS one!”

“Heyyy!” I began to protest, but Darren made a 'tssst!!!' sound and put his finger to his lips. His brow furrowed as he regarded my entire outfit, stopping at my feet. Finally he lifted his eyes to mine.

“Did you come here straight from Lillith Fair or did you escape from the convent?” he deadpanned. Lauren snorted. Becky and Suzie giggled and Tina just shot me a contrite smirk.

My embarrassment was quickly fermenting into resentment. I stiffened my spine and squared my shoulders, glaring at this snarky young man.

“Never knock comfort.” I protested.

“Oh. You want comfort?” he snarked. “Crocs and Cargoshorts Outlet is at the other end of the mall, next to Sears... no, wait... there's nothing in that wing anymore but darkness and despair.” He folded his arms and gazed at me with disapproval.

“I was having a good time wandering around Greenville when I got a call to meet up with this bunch.” I shot an annoyed thumb at the four friends. “I have NO idea what they have planned, but I'm pretty sure I want no part of it.”

Darren backed away as if he suddenly realized I wasn't part of this bitchy tradition he obviously shared with the others.

Tina quickly rushed in to calm things down while Lauren just folded her arms and shot me a look of irritation that I wasn't following the script.

“OK. OK. OK. Let's just all calm down here!” Tina said excitedly. She stopped, regrouped and took a deep breath. Then she put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “I just said come join me and my friends at Olive Garden.” She was looking at me, but I was sure she was addressing the group.

I nodded.

“I didn't say anything about our other plans because I wanted it to be a surprise.” She cracked a sheepish smile.

“Success.” I quipped. I tried to look annoyed but my amusement may have shown underneath.

“So..... we were thinking about.... of maybe.....”

“We're going clubbing.” Lauren declared, stepping between Tina and me.

“And THIS.... will not do at ALL!” She waved her arm from my calves to collarbone.

“You could have told me!” I protested. “I could have....” I faltered

Tina cut me off. “Oh sweetie. You didn't pack anything appropriate. You'd just stress yourself out trying to make something work. This ambush is better. Trust me.”

I snorted. “That's worked out great so far.” I muttered, grinning.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So now you know the plan. Just trust the experts.” she gave me a parental look. Over her shoulder I saw Lauren puff up a bit while her other friends beamed.

I sighed. I thought protesting about not having a fashion budget would get me out of it, but Tina was ready for that.

“It's on Daddy.” She grinned. At my raised eyebrow, she explained. “Well, actually he told me to treat myself. ….and since we're the same size, and friends share....”

I cocked my head querulously.

“So we're shopping for ME. But you're my.... 'Style Test Pilot.' So shut up and strap in!” she grinned.

I rolled my eyes at her convoluted logic. But still, I couldn't suppress my smile. I was getting a style makeover at the hands of her very assertive friends, and it was all being paid for by her father, the grand inquisitor. I just relaxed and held my arms, palms up, slightly spread in an 'as you wish' gesture. At which point Becca and Suzie squealed with glee and Darren and Lauren got down to business.

We tried on a number of shoes. I thought this 'surprise' was about me, but quickly realized no one was going to let me hog all the fun. Tina and I collaborated and chose a number of styles in size 8 that we could both agree on. Darren had to point out that we weren't exactly the same size, since my feet were slightly longer and hers just a little wider, but we agreed that I'd put up with slightly crushed toes if she would tolerate the pinched instep. When Darren slipped on the open toe stiletto sandals with gladiator wrap ribbon Lauren declared our quest was over and everyone instantly agreed. Even if I hated them, I was out-voted. In truth, I loved them, and the open toes got around my long, skinny foot issue. Lauren glanced down and smiled patronizingly.

“Don't worry about those ugly toes. By the time we're through, your feet will be as stunning as your shoes.”

I wasn't sure whether to be reassured or insulted. So I scowled and shrugged it off. And we turned to finding stunning shoes for Tina.

I was amused that every time she considered a style, she would turn to me and ask “What do you think? Would ask to you borrow these?”

At first I wasn't sure what the right answer was. Did she want shoes that I wouldn't pester her to borrow? Or was my desire to borrow them some sort of approval of the style? While I was quite comfortable in the world as Chloe, my time spent in intimate circumstances with a group of lifelong females was, I realized, shockingly limited. I was navigating blind in uncharted waters. I just decided to trust my instincts, hoping that if I really messed up, I could remind Tina when we were alone, how new I was to these types of social situations, and heal any bruised feelings.

It turned out I had little to worry about. Trusting my instincts served me well. Tina did in fact want me to be envious of her choices and eager to borrow her acquisitions. When I hesitantly chose 'want to borrow', she smiled coyly, said 'maybe', and bought the shoes.
We tore through the mall like an invading army, pillaging spoils everywhere we went. I did indeed get a pedicure and polish that was a complementary contrast to my pewter sandals. Against my protests 'Tina's dad' bought a black halter dress in a metallic thread type fabric with a hem far too short for my comfort level. Lauren insisted that with the high hem and gladiator sandals I looked positively fierce. I countered that I looked like a hooker from the future.

“Not yet.” Lauren grinned, but by the time the woman at the Mac store had finished the makeover, after being briefed by Lauren, no one could deny I looked like a hooker from the future. And judging from the looks I was getting from people in the mall, I felt like one too.

I took solace that I was not the only one getting stares. Lauren and her friends were already dressed to kill, and Tina's transformation was completed as well, only she looked like a rich party girl whose private plane was forced to land in this conservative, salt of the earth burgh. She had a burgundy satin bandeau dress that was every bit as short as mine, yet somehow looked infinitely more elegant and infinitely less 'hooker-ish'.

When I pulled her aside and shared this observation, she just laughed and shrugged it off.

“Oh, please! I'm rocking this look because I can pull off the up-do. But you...once we got your hair blown out, we all knew this was the look for you. And you're drop dead stunning!”

“Well, you certainly are.” I semi-whined.

“We both are!” Tina laughed, hooking her arm in mine and walking back to her gaggle of friends.

Lauren looked us all over, from Tina to me to Suzie to Becca. She gave a curt nod and spun toward the exit. “Get a move on ladies!” she pronounced, her back already to us.

Suzie grinned at the three of us. “Oh there are going to be many broken hearts tonight!”

“And many, many blue balls.” Becca leered.

Tina snorted a laugh. I just felt myself go crimson and had to command my legs to move.

We drove into Greenville and ended up at a bar in what Becca called 'the suit district'.

On my raised eyebrow she explained it was where all the bankers and lawyers worked.

“And other suit people....like you know.... advertising... import export...”

“Isn't that just code for 'drug kingpin' or 'spy'?” I teased.

Suzie shook her head. “Oh, no. It's a real thing. ….like what Chrissy's dad does.”

I shot Tina a contrite smile. She just squirmed and returned my smile. The other girls were oblivious.

“Let's get drinks.” Lauren said and made a beeline for the bar.

Once we arrived, she waved off the bartender. She led us all to three open seats and directed Becca and Suzie to stand with us. The bar hadn't yet been cleared and she grabbed an empty glass and held it. Tina laughed and shot me a glance. Almost instantly the bartender approached her, a knowing smile on his lips.

“What will you ladies be having tonight?” He cocked his head in the direction of a table of guys in expensive looking suits. “Complements of table twelve.” He smiled.

“Strawberry Skyy and redbull” Lauren replied instantly. Tina shot me a 'this is what she does' grin. “Just a cosmo for me” she smiled to the bartender, he nodded and looked at the rest of us. “Me too.” Suzie said. Then, a beat later “ a cosmo I mean.” and she gave the bartender a daffy grin. “I'll have a glass of your house chardonnay” Becca said and the bartender turned to me. “Club soda with a twist.” I smiled to disapproving looks from the others.

Lauren was looking the most annoyed, so I addressed her.

“I'm feeling dangerous enough in this dress. I'm not adding alcohol.” I tried a reassuring smile.

“God, Chrissie said you never have any fun. Now I know why.” she said dismissively. “But if you think you're designated driver forget it. No one drives my Lexus but me.”

“I can cab home.” I smiled.

“If you cab home after all we did getting you looking this hot, there is no God!” Becca laughed.

I think only Tina caught my panic response before I tamped it down, quickly replaced by a polite smile.

“Another Skyy and redbull for Laura Ingalls here.” Lauren commanded the bartender cocking a thumb at me. “....Only.....” she hesitated while he hung on her sentence. She regarded me with a slight scowl and furrowed brow, which quickly relaxed to a bitchy grin “....make it a vanilla skyy....” and she shot me her queen-bee contempt-i-stare “definitely vanilla.” she smirked.

I drew back reflexively and felt my posture change. I instantly understood the expression 'get your back up'. My shoulders drew back, tensed, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just been verbally bitch-slapped, but couldn't figure what to do about it except to stare daggers at Tina's friend. Which only seemed to feed her evil glee.

Fortunately we were quickly distracted, because I had no idea how to respond.

“Good evening ladies...” said dapper guy number one, leading the pack of expensive suits descending on our tables. He turned to address me “Miss Ingalls was it?”

I heard Tina snork. I tried to retain my composure. I managed a courteous smile and nod. “Just call me Laura.” By this time even Lauren was fighting to suppress a snicker.

“And who are your lovely friends Laura?” Another suit asked?

I glanced at my companions and they all stared back at me. I could tell they were trying to send psychic shouts 'No Names! ….at least not yet!'

I acted oblivious.

“Oh, how rude of me. Let me introduce my friends.” I smiled inside when I felt them flinch.

I turned to my group who had plastered polite smiles on their faces but were trying to kill me with their eyes.

“This is Elizabeth....” I said gesturing to Becca. “....but we all call her 'Liz'.... Bennet.”

Becca smiled and nodded. I caught her confusion. And Tina's smirk.

“My good friend Anne Shirley.” I motioned to Tina who made no attempt to hide her smile.

“Beth... Elizabeth... March” I motioned to Suzie, who plastered on a pleasant smile yet still could not completely hide her bewilderment.

“Now you understand why they're Beth and Liz.” I smiled to the gentlemen while gesturing to the slightly confused Becca and Suzie.

I felt Lauren's glare boring into me, I had better make this one good. When the 'lightbulb moment' hit me I'm sure the glow shone on my face.

“And this...” I beamed to our gaggle of suit-ors “is Cathy Gale.”

Lauren shot me a glance of disapproval and surprise. She was not happy at being a 'Cathy'. She quickly regained her composure and plastered on the beauty queen smile. I looked forward to our inevitable confrontation over this later.

“Beth, Liz, Anne, Laura, Cathy” alpha suit repeated, pointing at each of us as we nodded. Not only did it help him and his group remember our 'names'.... it was a quick refresher for us as well.

“I'm Chip. Chip Stevenson.” he quickly volunteered. “And this is Alan, Blake, Reg and Geo.”

“Like the car?” I asked deadpan. The guys all grimaced and looked at each other, but Geo smiled and shook his head.

“Sorry no. It's short for Giovanni. My mom Mercedes and my father Tiguan were adamant that I would not be named for a car. Although my sister Porcia used to call me Thing.”

I couldn't help but smile. “Name dropper.”

Tina tittered, but her friends just stared at us as if we began flirting in Esperanto.

“So what brings you girls to town? We've never seen you here before.” Blake asked our group.

“So, you troll for girls here regularly?” Tina asked, the innocence on her face contrasting her sharp vocal barbs.

The guys shuffled nervously, glancing at each other. Their suave act was crumbling quickly. I was about to toss them a lifeline when Geo stepped in.

“We work nearby and come here to celebrate when we've had an exceptionally good day. So....” he turned to grin at his companions. “I guess we DO come here fairly often. And if you ladies had ever been here, we definitely would remember. So, is it your first time?”

This guy was slick and I couldn't hide my smile at how smoothly he saved his friends.

Suzie and Becca shook their heads. Lauren ….I mean 'Cathy' cut in.

“We only come here for special occasions. Our friend is getting married in a few days, so we wanted one last girls night out.” She turned to me. “Last chance to get wild before happily ever after Laura. You already bought the white dress, you are NOT walking down that aisle still a virgin if it's the last thing I do!” she grinned wickedly.

I felt my face, no, my whole body burn as I'm sure I turned redder than a boiled lobster. I fumbled for words, yet again before I could respond, Geo stepped in and saved the day.

He reached out and took my hands, turning me to him. “No? Really? Wow. That's amazing!” he said with admiration as he looked me in the eyes with what I could only read as wonder and respect.

I felt my blush begin to fade as I shot him a shy, embarrassed smile. He had turned the tables and made me the object of sympathy instead of ridicule, and he made Lauren look like a mean bitch. I nodded ever so slightly, still quite embarrassed that the topic of conversation was my alleged virginity. I was in fact still a virgin, for reasons far more complicated than anyone, save possibly Tina, could possibly imagine. Still, Lauren's snarky barb hit a bullseye she couldn't know existed, and my mortification was genuine.

Geo was gracious and gentlemanly. “I am impressed and amazed especially since you're.....” and he faltered, realizing he had walked right into the middle of a minefield.

I smiled as my own mind finished his sentence 'since you're dressed like a hooker from the future'. What I actually mumbled out was an embarrassed “...this isn't actually my dress...”

“Actually it's mine...” Tina interrupted “...but no one wears it better than... Laura... so I insisted.” She smiled.

I cracked a shy smile, still acutely embarrassed at being the center of attention.

“Well, I can't imagine anyone looking as stunning as you.” Geo smiled. “Still, you would light up the room in a burlap sack.”

“That's pretty much what she was wearing when we found her” Lauren sneered.

“Hey!” I reflexively exclaimed. Then I quickly realized she just kept digging herself deeper.

Lauren was unfazed. “So, are you going to stand here all night trying to get up the nerve, or are you going to ask us to dance?”

Blake broke into a grin. “Absolutely.” He reached out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

She took his hand with an 'about time' look, a quick hair toss and began striding to the dance floor Blake behind her as if she were leading a horse. She turned to flash us an over-the-shoulder '….well?' glare, and quickly our crowd scrambled to catch up. Geo immediately grasped my hand with a chivalrous nod and a smile, while our six other companions quickly paired off to join us.

Tina caught my panicked look. I had danced publicly a few times, but it was always with friends, and usually in the comfort of familiar night spots. There was no tension, social or sexual. It was just dancing with friends... as carefree and innocent as a childhood sleepover. This was different and I was struggling to remain calm. I held up a finger to Geo as our drinks arrived just before we headed to the dance floor. I smelled the vanilla and knew it was my Skyy Redbull... I tossed it back like cough medicine and remembered my grandfather calling it 'liquid courage'. I hoped it was. And for good measure, I quaffed Lauren's strawberry Skyy Redbull too. Bitch owed me.

The dance floor was pretty crowded, so there wasn't much room for my small and awkward movements to betray my self consciousness. Geo was a real gentleman. The comfort he projected with my awkward attempts at dancing counterbalanced my extreme social anxiety. I don't know whether it was the exertion of dancing or the fact that I only had a breadstick and a cup of coffee all day, but quickly I could feel the vodka wash over me like a warm mist, dulling the sharp edges of my self-conciousness. Geo seemed to notice it as well. I felt him relax as I relaxed and my dance moves felt more ….fluid.

I took his grin as relief that I was finally relaxing and getting into my groove, letting the music take me, and enjoying my gracious dancing companion.

I had no idea where this would lead. And at the moment, I didn't care.

We became comfortable with each other surprisingly quickly. At least I was surprised. Well, maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise. Geo caught a server's eye and got refills for our entire table. Still a bit nervous, when he wasn't looking, I stole Lauren's Strawberry Skye again and when he was looking, I demurely sipped my own Vanilla Skye.

It was only a short break. Geo divulged nothing about himself, and I continued to let him think I was Laura bleeping Ingalls and he told me nothing about himself or his real family.

That was fine. It was just harmless flirting, I kept telling myself. And it was fun. Nothing Laura Ingalls did ….nothing slightly tipsy Laura Ingalls did at the club, could possibly come back to haunt Chloe Saville.... so I told myself.

Or maybe it was just the Skyy/Redbull whispering in my ear.

We went back to the dance floor. I was feeling completely comfortable with the situation by then. Geo was a gentleman. He wasn't trying anything or taking advantage of the situation. Could he even tell how much I was feeling the alcohol? Did I show how much I was feeling the alcohol? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that that nagging voice in my head that always told me 'no' was blissfully quiet.... and I was really enjoying dancing for the first time in my life.

The DJ started playing a remix of Fallout Boy's “Uma Thurmann” and I was struck with images of Pulp Fiction in my head. I started grinning like an idiot and doing the 'Bat-usi'.

Geo instantly locked into my vibe and found his inner John Travolta. We were SO in sync apparently even the DJ noticed, because when he finally finished the fallout boy remix, he found a very EDM version of Chuck Berry's 'You Never Can Tell'.

We weren't the only people on the dance floor, but we were at most vaguely aware of everyone else. We were having so much fun, the rest of the crowd at the club just faded to extras in our minds. The Wolf of Wall Street and the Hooker from the Future were the stars of our own little rom-com. The music slowed and we pulled much closer. I swear I could feel the pounding of Geo's heart against my breast.... or maybe it was just my own heart.... the scent of his musk in my nostrils was definitely him. He leaned down and I looked up to see his own nostrils flare... was he inhaling my pheromones? It didn't matter. As he leaned down, I leaned up and our lips met as he plunged into my open lipped kiss. I was swept away by the moment and the strong embrace of this exotic stranger I had just met.

….Until Tina grabbed me by the elbow and yelled over the music “bathroom break!” And before I knew it I was whisked away, facing Tina in the ladies' and trying to explain myself.

I couldn't.

“What the hell? Have you lost your mind?” Tina demanded.

I shrugged and cracked a meek smile. “No biggie. He thinks I'm Laura Ingalls for heaven sake! ….Thanks, Lauren.” I smirked. “No real names. No numbers. No harm, no foul. Just a little fun.” I said ….or maybe it was the vodka talking.

“No.” Tina said adamantly. “I let my friends tart you up like some kind of space-slut.... but I'm not going to let you act like one!”

“I'm not....” I lamely protested, but ran out of steam before even finishing the sentence.

“Yes... you were!” Tina insisted. “You were about a minute away from spiriting away to a stall and giving him what he was after!”

“I was NOT....” I thought about it and realized Tina might have had a point. And I was so swept up in the moment, I may have done what he wanted without a moments thought or hesitation. The realization stunned me and suddenly I felt a lot more sober.

“Oh, God.” was all I could whisper as my eyes went wide with the truth.

Tina smiled. “My friends are a bad influence, I should have warned you.”

I shook my head. “It wasn't them. It was me. This is all on me.” I scowled at my recklessness. “I knew they were just having fun and I was their Barbie.... I went along with it.”

“...Because they were MY friends...” Tina said. I nodded. “And I was having fun too.” she admitted. “But you weren't just their Barbie.... you were their slutty Barbie..... they were setting you up.... and I let them..... because.... I know you.... and I knew you wouldn't lose control.....”

I looked at the floor with a shy grin of embarrassment.

“Well... I didn't think you'd lose control....” Tina grinned. “And when I realized my bad influence friends were setting you up to go off with that guy and shag your brains out, I realized you had no idea what you were up against.... I've known these guys for years and
seen them set others up.... I don't think it's mean.... it's just they want to set up others to do all the slutty sex-fiend stuff they don't have the guts to do themselves.... I've seen them do it for years.... I never dreamed you'd fall for their trap.”

I hung my head. There was nothing to defend.

Tina gave me a shoulder squeeze. “So. Intervention successful? You're not going home with that guy?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Or even going down on that guy?” she smirked.

I felt my cheeks flush crimson and gave a vigorous head shake.

“Good.” she smiled and gave my forearm a quick squeeze. “Just watch out for Lauren and her minions. If they get their way you will need a wheelchair and witness relocation by tomorrow morning!” Tina grinned wickedly.

I smiled and tried to hide my shudder. I was feeling a bit more sober. And a lot more chaste.

We returned to the dance floor and I returned to Geo a lot more in control. He shot me a sheepish grin as I took his hand and led him back to our table.

“Let's sit this one out.” I smiled. He nodded. I suspected he too was realizing how quickly things had spun out of control. He seemed a bit shy and chastened.

We chatted about his job and his friends. He talked a bit about his real family, and their real names. He did have an older sister. Sonia actually. And he really did know how to behave like a gentleman. All it took was me separating him from his friends.

“I have a feeling your friends are a lot like my group.” I smiled. “They have mischief in their hearts, and when they get together they can be a bad influence.”

Geo nodded and returned my grin. It was hard to tell in the dim lights of the club, but there may have been a slight blush there too.

Lauren and her pack stormed up to our table. Apparently once she noticed Geo and I were no longer on the dance floor, they ditched the guys there and honed in on us.

“C'mon bitch. We're behind schedule.” She said all businesslike as I tried to give Geo an apologetic look. He seemed amused, since we had just been discussing headstrong friends. The rest of the girls followed Lauren and I like the wake of a speedboat. Or a school of fish. I grinned as I wondered to myself if piranhas travel in schools. Tina caught my grin and gave me a smiling 'yeah, these are my friends' shrug.

As we were leaving the club and practically speed walking to Lauren's Lexus, I took the relative privacy of the street to question her.

“Why the sudden exit? I thought we were going clubbing?”

I could sense Lauren's eyes roll although she kept looking straight ahead and didn't even turn to address me. “God.... get with the program! Night on the town! One club is NOT a night on the town.”

“OK. But still..... I thought we were having fun. Did we have to leave so...”

“You were having fun.... until for some reason you decided to sit down and get all chatty.” She snapped scornfully.

I was at a loss for a response. Lauren seemed cool with the club while I was dirty dancing out on the floor getting closer and closer to crossing all sorts of lines... but once Tina staged her restroom intervention and I regained my self control, Lauren pulled the plug on our clubbing.

“Well, did we have to leave so.....”

“We did what we came to do. Those guys were so horny they could barely still dance.” She said with a nasty smile. I exchanged glances with Tina, who gave me a 'yeah, she does that, welcome to my teenage years' grin.

“Onward bitches!” Lauren shouted into the night, raising her arm like an invading general. Behind her, Becca Suzy and Tina let out a Xena war whoop that quickly devolved into gales of laughter.

We drove into what seemed like a rather sketchy part of town. I couldn't shake the memories of when Tina and I had helped Zoe steal back her stuff from her ex's place. This neighborhood was even bleaker. There wasn't a dive bar or check cashing store in sight. Just large asphalt spaces with the occasional squat industrial building. Lauren turned a corner and suddenly we stumbled upon signs of life. Well, sort of. It was just as bleak and surreal, with the harsh amber glow of sodium lamps illuminating the dozen or so parked cars and black limo-buses in a sort of sepia-tone haze. The building across from the lot full of cars had no markings on the outside, but there was a faint glow from a dimly lit door, and a silhouette of a single guy backlit in the glow. Even from a distance, it was obvious this guy was huge. His shadowy outline against the faint light from the door showed he was standing, feet apart and arms folded. He gave off a sentry/bouncer vibe. Even from a distance.

Lauren parked her Lexus and began briskly strutting toward the building. She glanced over her shoulder just once, to confirm that we had all exited the car and were following. She flashed her key fob over her shoulder, and the car chirped as the doors locked.

“Keep up sluts.” She called out again, not even looking back at us, but zeroing in on the shadowy figure backlit by the door.

“McLaren. Party of five.” I heard her announce to the door guy as she held up her hand with something between her fingers that the guy grabbed, examined and nodded her through. Since she was ahead of us and just a backlit shadow too, I couldn't tell what she flashed at the guy. At first I thought it was an I.D. Or credit card, but the way he took it made me think maybe it was cash?

We followed in Lauren's wake as closely as we could and the guy nodded us through. Up close he was way more imposing than even that sturdy silhouette across the parking lot. He was dressed in a black suit like a limo driver or bodyguard. I presumed he was some sort of bouncer and that we were headed into some sort of nightspot that was so cool it could be completely unmarked in the middle of the industrial district. I wondered if any of the scrapyards or chemical depots around us had any idea of what went on after dark.

As soon as we stepped through the inner doors, the sound became deafening – and visceral. The bass resonated in my skeleton and we hadn't even ventured into the outer lobby area. Lauren was ahead having a heated conversation with the woman at the inner door. While I tried to read their lips over the noise Tina bumped me with her elbow. When I turned to face her, and her two friends devilishly grinning behind her, she mouthed 'SORRY' with a shrug and a look of embarrassed remorse.

At which point I was grabbed from behind by Lauren and snapped to her side while the woman she had been arguing with tore like an ice breaker through the crowded club and deposited us at a front table directly at the end of a runway.

Oh. My. GOD. ….it was a strip club.

I turned to Tina who appeared genuinely embarrassed, then noticed Lauren Becca and Suzy were beaming wickedly at me. Lauren sat beside me and leaned in to shout over the din “Let me guess.... first time?”

I nodded, shell shocked. Which seemed to please her no end.

“This is gonna be SO much fun!” She shouted, though I barely could hear her and had to resort to reading her lips. Still, her evil grin was unmistakable.

“Ladies ladies ladies” the voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Let's give a rousing patriotic welcome to our men who serve....” and the curtain parted to show a line of guys in single file marching onto the stage in camo costumes that looked more like harem slaves than uniforms.... bandoleers over bare chests, low slung gunbelts and what looked like parachute pants – only in camo – with boots that shone so much they looked like patent leather.

As they split off from the line and spread to the individual runways the P.A. voice introduced them.

“From Smackover Arkansas” as he said it, the beefy guy tore off his camo pants and slapped the back of his glistening metallic speedo “Corporal punishment!”

The crowd went nuts... shrieking and hollering in a frenzy. I had only seen this hysteria in old movie footage of Beatles concerts in the 1960s. And these women were not 13 – they were adult's for God's sake.... but they were acting like frenzied teens on a hormone rush.

“From Yankton South Dakota” the announcer leered over the shrieks of the crowd as the beefy guy ….handled.... himself with a smug look and a jutted jaw “Private Partee!.....” the guy dropped to the runway and started doing one armed push ups, which drove the crowd even wilder.

“From Woodville Florida” - at which the next guy made a lewd suggestive gesture which the crowd ate up “Major Hunk!” He started doing calisthenics – jumping jacks and borderline obscene squat thrusts ….to the delirious delight of the crowd.

“And finally, at the top of the pyramid.... from Plowville Pennsylvania... General Catch!”

At which the guy whipped off his mirrorshades, flung his hat to the ground, ripped off his breakaway camos, revealing the same metallic speedo as the other guy and snapped to attention.... giving a ...umm... non-traditional salute... let's just say everything was at full attention.

Then the speakers started blasting some chest-pounding percussion and these guys all went into their moves. They added little pseudo-military touches to their routines, but it still seemed like standard stripper moves. Well, what I imagined standard stripper moves might be. They were thrusting and gyrating and women were coming up to the runways and jamming bills into their speedos. I guess I was just staring, open mouthed at this whole frenzied scene. I had not imagined anyone doing this sort of thing for their.... job... or that hordes of strangers would claw over each other to stuff money into their underwear.

I guess my open mouthed, wide eyed stare probably looked like something entirely different to Tina's friends, because when the guys finally hopped off the runways and started 'working the floor' ...going from table to table and nearly thrusting themselves into people's faces, Lauren got a wicked look and tried to lure one of the shiny, sweaty strippers over to our table.

I slumped with relief when the music ended and the guys went backstage before getting to our table. Lauren seemed annoyed, but quickly recovered and ordered a round of drinks. I didn't hear what she ordered, but she didn't even bother asking any of us what we wanted. I could tell by her gestures that she took the liberty of ordering for the whole table. I glanced to Tina, who just gave a weak smile and a shrug. I presumed this was just standard Lauren Queen Bee behavior.

Lauren turned to me and shouted. “Are you just loving this?” she beamed.

I felt the heat and am sure I went bright crimson. That seemed to be what she was looking for, because she just grinned wickedly and turned to Tina.

“Screw Donna and her bridesmaids. We don't need a stupid bachlorette to have fun! You are gonna flip at this next act.... I can't wait to see your face!”

I took some comfort that I wasn't the only one Lauren was torturing tonight. Sure, I know I was a friend of a friend, so they were going to test and judge me. Since I never imagined I would ever see them again, I didn't worry much about making a good impression. I just didn't want to do anything they would enshrine forever in their mean girl hall of shame.

Lauren ordered another round of shots and I tossed mine back as if it was a vaccination... from shame and self consciousness. It burned my throat as it went down.

“What are we drinking???” I yelled over the blaring music to Tina.

“Fireballs!” She shrugged with a resigned smile. She must have noticed my lost expression. “....Cinnamon whiskey.” She then tossed back her own shot. It was clear there was no way to escape the gravity well of Lauren the Queen Bee.

The review of sweaty guys who bounded onto the stage to do a really lewd routine to that goofy 80s song 'Can't touch this' got me grinning. Maybe I was loosening up. Maybe I was remembering the old Jimmy Fallon routine about every 1980s pop hit being singable to 'can't touch this'.... maybe I was tickled at the thought that, God, I didn't want to touch this! And watching the sweaty guys taunting the very aroused crowd trying to touch it. It was surreal and hilarious. At least to me.

Or maybe it was just the fireballs.

As the whole scene became less threatening and more just goofy and absurd to me, I began to relax and let my hair down.

….or maybe it was just the shots... because I don't remember much else about that night.

...or anything else until I woke with a fierce need to pee and a taste in my mouth that made me wonder just what I'd eaten ….or at least put in my mouth.... the night before. Which I was having a really hard time remembering.

As I struggled to sort out just where I was, I realized I was under bedsheets. In just my underwear! My slowly rebooting brain became aware that I was being spooned from behind. 'Panic attack' is an understatement. I flung back the bedsheets and heard a reflexive groan from behind as I extricated myself from the 'spoon'.

It was a relief to hear the creaky groan was in a female register. I rubbed the film from my eyes and focused on the still sleeping body of Tina. I heaved a sigh of relief as I struggled to sort out just where I was ...where we were... and most importantly, where the bathroom was.

Looking around with my still very fuzzy brain, I began to wonder if this was Tina's room. There seemed to be no bathroom attached, so I figured I was going to need to venture into the hall. If this was her home, it was filled with her parents and her two brothers. I was not skulking down the hall in bra and panties! I was able to fire up enough of my brain to locate a robe, holding it wrapped with my hands as I tiptoed into the hall to search for a bathroom.

“Rough night?” Tina's dad startled me from behind. I spun around, totally forgetting that I was holding the robe together, and flashed him before I quickly realized and re-wrapped myself. He raised an eyebrow and I caught his eye do a split-second inspection as he raised his eyes back to mine.

I could feel from the heat that I went bright crimson. He just smiled, surprisingly gently.

“You were out with Christina's friends?”

I nodded mutely. Still mortified.

His smile became more generous. “I'm surprised she didn't warn you about them.”

I finally managed to croak out “...at some point she tried....”

He nodded. Grinning. “...But by then it was too late...”

The wave of heat I felt pass through me was the only response, aside from another mute nod. Tina's dad got more magnanimous. He put his hand on my back, then pulled it back. Did he feel he was crossing a line? I just took it as a reassuring gesture. He regrouped.

“There's one in every crowd.” He smiled.

I must have given him a lost expression. I wasn't sure who 'the one' was. He picked up on it.

“Lauren.” He smiled gently. “It's just her nature. She'll always test. She'll always tempt. Well, Christina got you back in one piece, so I imagine you passed the test.” he grinned. “....or at least thwarted Lauren's more sinister schemes.” He smirked.

I continued to give him a blank stare. I was struggling to process all this. He just smiled.

“Chrissy's a good girl. She's a strong girl. She keeps it under wraps, but I've seen her with her pushy friends. She can hold her own. She wasn't going to let the wolves get you.” he said quietly, the pride obvious.

“Who did she get that from?” I smiled. Ken just returned my smile.

“Both her parents.” He chuckled. Then he refocused on the present. “second door on the right” he grinned jutting is chin in the direction.

I smiled, remembering how my bladder was about to burst, and scurried down the hall.

When I got back to Tina's room she was still sleeping. I crawled back into bed – avoiding the spoon - and tried to go back to sleep myself, hoping I would wake refreshed. It didn't work. I couldn't get back to sleep. My mind kept churning, trying to reassemble the night.

All I could get was glimpses. Random flashes. Even the tiny snippets were disturbing enough.

I heard Tina's groan and knew she was reluctantly waking. I feigned sleep. I heard her groan. She must have looked at the clock. I heard her leave the room. I guessed shower.

Even with my eyes closed, the fragrant floral scent when she returned confirmed my earlier hunch. I went through the motions of being awakened by the sounds of her moving around the room and stirred beneath the sheets.

“Morning skankypants.” Tina cooed. I just groaned a reply.

“Where am I?” I fumbled with the covers. Tina didn't know that I had already figured that out.

“Safe house” she grinned. “After last night you may need to lay low for a while.”

“?????” I made a quizzical sound & shot her a confused look.

“When Lauren & the girls dropped us off at your car, there was no way I was letting you drive, so I took us home.”

I just gave her a baffled, unfocused look.

“You're in my room.” she finally shrugged. “....in my bed.”

I bolted from under the bedsheets as if I suddenly discovered the bed was filled with fire ants. Then realizing that I was standing in just bra and panties, quickly yanked a sheet around myself. I believe my apparent surprise convinced Tina. She just laughed.

“Where are my clothes?” I gasped.

“Your clothes are in a shopping bag in the car.... my dress and heels which I let you test-flight are hanging to air on my closet door. Where they belong.” she grinned.

“oh.” I said in a tiny voice, trying to collect my thoughts. “Um, regarding that uh.. test flight...”

Tina's brow went up and she regarded me with a sly smirk. “......Yes?”

“...ummm.... how did it go?....” I think my state of mind was all over my face.

“You tell me.” Tina replied, the smirk growing.

I tried to concentrate and realized I was really knotting my brow.

“How much do you remember?” Tina finally asked with a cat that ate the canary smile.

I shook my head. “...uh, I remember doing shots of ….firebombs....”

“Fireballs.” Tina corrected.

I nodded. “Uh.... I remember.... the soldier guys...”

Tina nodded supportively. “...And the construction guys...”

“Construction guys?”

Tina grinned. “Builder Bob and the erection set?”

My deep blush and shudder betrayed my startled embarrassment.

“Really?” I finally managed to croak out. To Tina's nasty grin.

“Oh Yeahhhh” she nearly purred. Then her expression faded to mild disappointment. “...you don't remember the hard hat dance?”

I shook my head. I had this unmistakable feeling that not remembering was a blessing.

“....shame.... You really impressed my friends.” Tina grinned wickedly.

Oh, God. THAT can't be a good thing.

“So, I'm guessing you don't remember bananaman either.....” she trailed off.

I felt the heat as I'm sure my face flashed crimson. All I could do was shake my head.

Tina's grin got positively evil. She walked over to her bag and fumbled with her phone. Finally showing me a dark and grainy video. It was terrible quality, but it was clearly me. I was positively blasted. Taunting this dancer with a banana in his speedo. A huge, mutant banana. Where do they even find those things? Do they have some produce supplier who raises super-bananas for them to use in their lewd routines?

My mind snapped to the video as the guy had removed it from his trunks and was waving it around, practically grinding in my face. I was grinning lewdly and kind of snapping at it, to his apparent amusement. Then as I watched in total mortification, I grabbed the stem of it in my teeth. The guy seemed startled, but went with it. I then watched in horror as I peeled the thing with my teeth and did exactly what you would expect any drunken horny girl at an erotic dance club to do. For a moment I forgot I was watching myself. It was surreal. Was this girl a porn star? Did she even have a gag reflex? Even the dancer seemed transfixed as she kept eye contact while lasciviously servicing his massive musa. Then with a gleam in her eye, she snapped her teeth shut, biting the banana at the base and seemingly swallowing it whole! The dancer snapped back startled, and as I watched Tina's phone I felt my neck do the same, to Tina's delighted snort.

Oh my God! How could she DO that? How could anyone do that without choking? I was fully expecting the next thing to be someone performing a Heimlich maneuver, but there was just the drunk girl with the devilish grin and the ripple down her throat as she dispatched that thing as a snake would a mouse.

Tina shut off her phone and gave me the oddest grin.

I just looked up at her. I had no words.

After a long, awkward silence, Tina just grinned and popped the phone back in her bag.

“To say you impressed my friends is an understatement.” she chortled. “You are now freaking legend.”

I just stared back mutely. I had no idea how to react to this revelation.

“And I....” she puffed up “...am kind of legend too... for finding someone like you and becoming friends!” Her smile betrayed amused delight.

I shifted uncomfortably. “You're ….welcome?”

Tina let out a roar of a laugh, so hard it ended in a snort. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself trying to stifle the outburst, which finally ended with a cascade of hiccups.

“....so maybe not remembering much of last night is a good thing?” I said quietly.

Tina nodded. Still grinning. “Probably.... for you.... but the rest of us will never forget.”

“....or let me forget?” I asked sheepishly.

Tina shook her head. “I wouldn't do that to you sweetie.”

At the relief on my face, she grinned. “....on the other hand Lauren and her bitches brood....”

My face fell. “Oh, God. That phone video. Tell me you didn't share it.”

Tina shook her head with a scowl. “Not my phone. Becky took it. And sent it to me.”

I must have gone pale. Her look softened.

“I told her my battery was dying and borrowed her phone later. I deleted the video.”

The relief on my face made her frown.

“No guarantees she didn't share it with anyone else.” Tina said quietly.

I scowled.

“Even if she has it, Lauren won't share it.” Tina smiled. “I told her not to dare. ….and she knows I have a lot of dirt on her I never used. It's insurance.” she grinned.

I nodded. “Was there....anything else... I should know about last night?” I hesitantly inquired.

Tina's grin went broad. “Oh. LOADS....” then with a twinkle in her eye, she purred “...but your head might explode.... I'll tell you everything.... over time.” she winked.

My displeasure showed. Tina softened but didn't back down.

“Time and distance will make it easier to hear” she said quietly.

I swallowed hard. And nodded uncertainly.

Tina blessedly changed the subject. “YOU... need a shower.”

I scowled and raised my arm leaning my head toward my armpit. Tina laughed.

“No, no... you're not gross.... it's just... I know where you've been...” and with a mischievous grin “...and what you've done... anyway... it's morning... so go shower! I'll go down to the car and get your non-slut clothes.” With a smile she tossed me a robe.

“Down the hall, third door on the right. Oh. And even if it's empty, stick your head in first to make sure it's OK.”

On my puzzled look, Tina smiled. “I have brothers.”

I smiled back, remembering Dale and Colin back at my old place. I nodded and padded to the bathroom.

Tina knocked and without waiting popped her head in. Dropping some items on the counter next to the shower. She shouted through the curtain “Bodywash & a fresh pack. Take it back to my room when you're done or my stupid brothers will use it all up.”

As I heard the door close, I poked my head out to see a bottle of floral bodywash and an unopened 3-pack of jockey for her cotton panties. Tina was the best.

I felt much more human when I emerged from the shower. Quietly padding back to Tina's room, I nearly collided with Tina's brother as he burst out a door like an ejecting pilot.

“Whoa! Sorry.” He blurted as he placed his hands on my shoulders to steady me, since he nearly bodychecked me into the wall. He quickly caught his reflexive 'handsiness' and withdrew his grip. With a blush he repeated “Sorry.”

I smiled weakly, unsure what else to do but just wanting to escape to the haven of Tina's room. I was standing in the hall, still slightly damp, wearing just thin cotton panties under my robe, towel around my hair and these flimsy mule-like slippers that I'm sure Tina must have swiped from a hotel. Her brother was fully dressed in tight jeans and a rugby jersey that betrayed his fit physique by its drape. There was a really unbalanced power dynamic here. Only compounded by the fact that this was his home, and I was a stranger who barely knew her way to the bathroom. He seemed to get it. Or maybe my reaction got it for him. He backed off, leaving me a bit more personal space. Then with an awkward smile he said “You're Chrissy's friend....”

“Chloe.” I reminded, still not feeling the least bit confident by this encounter.

“Frank.” he smiled. He must have read my mind “....Franceso actually... but nobody calls me that... if they value their life” he laughed.

“Frannn.....” I began and saw his brow raise “....k” I smirked. He grinned. “I remember. And your brother's Sal.”

He nodded, apparently pleased that I remembered.

“So. You guys have fun last night?” He smiled.

I blanched. His grin got bigger. “Wh.... what did you hear?”

By now it was a full blown 'shit eating grin'. He held up his hands. “Nothing! Honest.” But his smile persisted. “I'm guessing you went out with Chrissy's friends.” His smile said it all. Lauren and her crew had a long established reputation.

I could only nod sheepishly.

“Well, you woke up here and not in jail or a public fountain, so I'd say the night went well.” Tina's brother grinned.

I edged away with an uncomfortable smile and tried to excuse myself.

“Uh. Thanks. I really have to....” I cocked my head in the direction of Tina's room. “I really need to....” as I was awkwardly trying to excuse myself, Tina rounded the corner, bags in hand.

“Frankie. Stop hitting on my friends!” Tina barked. Her older brother shrunk back like a great dane cowed by an angry chihuahua. As she swept past us, Tina grabbed my elbow and towed me along.

Frank smiled sheepishly and said “See you later?”

I just looked at Tina who rolled her eyes theatrically. Then turned to Frank with a conflicted shrug and a smile as Tina yanked me into her room.

“God I'm sorry.” Tina sighed. “I can't bring a friend over without my horndog brothers hitting on them.”

“It was OK really. I was just coming back from the shower when he burst through his door and nearly flattened me.”

Tina gave me a look. “Still. Sorry.”

I shrugged. “It's OK. He's cool. Your whole family is cool. I have to admit I'm a little envious.”

Tina shot me a look of surprised curiosity. “Really? Your family must be really messed up then.” she laughed “...although you never talk about them....”. Upon my expression she backed off. “...sorry... not my business....”

She quickly changed the subject. “Hungry?”

I gave her a look. “I don't know. After that coffee and the breadstick yesterday, and the vodkas and all those firebombs....”

“Fireballs” she laughed. “Right. Let's get an omelet in you.”

We went down to the kitchen and Tina gave me a serious stare.

“Not a word to my mom about this. She's very ….territorial.” Tina forced a grin.

“Where is she?” I wondered aloud.

“Hairdressers. Then nail salon. She is not going to my cousin's wedding and hanging out with my dad's family without looking absolutely perfect.” Tina grinned. “They've been married 36 years, and she still feels like his family is judging her.”

I smiled and nodded. Then Tina surprised me. She did a thing with her face and turned to look me in the eye. “She's probably right.”

I reflexively grimaced. “Tough crowd.” I muttered.

Her grin was fierce. “You have NO idea... welcome to my world.”

I smiled politely and watched Tina prepare our omelets. She barely looked at what she was doing. She continued chatting with me and making eye contact while she deftly diced the bell peppers, chopped the cilantro and scallions, sliced the chorizo and whisked the eggs. It was like muscle memory and I made no attempt to hide my awe.

“You are really amazing! I know from nights when it's your turn that you can cook... but I had no... this....” I gestured to the items in her workspace... “I had no idea!....”

Tina shrugged. “Growing up with my mom, you either learn to keep up or you never hear the end of it.” This was no big deal to her, but I was impressed ...and a bit stunned.

We were enjoying our leisurely brunch and casually chatting. Truth be told, I was savoring mine, but it seemed to make Tina self-conscious, so I damped down my effusive praise of her kitchen skills.

“What are your plans for the day?” Tina asked innocently.

I shrugged. “Back to my B&B. Knock around Greenville. Yesterday was a rather mad dash down the 'things to see' list. There are a few places I'd like to revisit and linger."

Tina nodded absentmindedly. “Would you mind terribly putting all that off for another day or so?”

I cocked my head quizzically. She wanted something, but I couldn't imagine what.

“Wanna crash a wedding?” she grinned.

“Seriously? You want me to go to your cousin's wedding?”

Tina nodded. “C'mon. It'll be fun.”

“I don't know.... I just met your family and I'm not sure they've made up their mind how they feel about me... I don't want to storm into your cousin's wedding....”

Tina held up a finger. “First. You won't be 'storming in' I RSVP'd for myself and a guest.”

“I presumed you already had a guest....”

She smirked. “I did. More on that later. So technically, you're not crashing. You're my plus one. Second...” she raised another finger “my family has made up their mind about you ….well, at least my brother Frank. And Sal too I think. My mom's a sweetheart, I'm sure she already thinks of you as extended family....”

“But your Dad....” I held my own finger and gave her a wry smile.

“Oh, Daddy will be fine. You threw him by that whole Zoe thing. He's not used to being wrong. And he's sure not used to people turning the tables on him!” she beamed. “He'll brood and sulk for a while, but he'll get over it.” she laughed “actually I think he'll end up respecting you more for setting him straight... and not being a bitch about it.”

I held up a finger “IF my firewall holds and he doesn't connect Tom.” I grimaced.

“True.” she agreed. “And if he eventually twigs after getting to know you as Chloe, he just might end up being impressed by your skill at separating Chloe and Tom.... it's the kind of sneaky spy stuff he revels in. If you play it right, when the time is right, after he's made up his mind about your character, it could even end up a plus.”

“I don't see that happening.” I laughed. “I think I'll just work extra hard on the firewall.”

Tina nodded her agreement. “Best plan for now. Still, I don't think he hates you or anything.”

I nodded. He seemed more personable when I bumped into him in the hall earlier. He may not have decided I was OK, but he didn't seem to actively think I wasn't OK.

“Maybe.” I said uncertainly. “OK. They'll be cool. Maybe. But why on earth do you want ME to go with you to your cousin's wedding?”

Tina waggled her head. “Well, you are my friend.... and after last night, I feel I owe you... and after RSVPing with a plus one, showing up alone would be ...just pathetic.” She smiled weakly.

“What happened to your original plus one?” I inquired as gently as I could.

Tina scowled. “He never really committed. But then again, he never outright said 'NO'.” She blushed. “We kind of had an unrequited thing in high school... I mad crushed on him since sophomore year.... and finally I heard he had a kind of crush on me too, but he was freaked by the stories of the things my father did to boys who did try to date me.” She scowled “...most of which were true ...mostly.” Her face fell slightly. “...so... we never did happen in high school.... But when I got my invitation to Tony & Donna's wedding, I figured 'what the hell?'. I called his house and talked to his mom. I found out he was still living in the area and wasn't seeing anyone as far as she knew. She promised to pass along my invitation. ….I never heard from him, but his mother seemed to think he wanted to and promised to keep on him until he gave me an answer one way or the other.” she sighed.

“Still. He never called. I had already RSVP'd my plus one, but I didn't hear from him.”

I gave her a sympathetic look.

“....until last night.” she grimaced.

Upon my befuddled look, she smiled, but there was melancholy there. “The reason my friends dragged us to that strip-club wasn't to embarrass you...” she hesitated and flashed me a conflicted grin “...that just ended up being a bonus.”

Her grin faded at my wince. “They wanted me to see Carpenter Scott and his amazing toolbelt.” She grinned without joy.

“...so Carpenter Scott....” I began. Tina nodded.

“Scott Miller... my unrequited high school crush. Everyone in town knew he tried, but couldn't get a football or hockey scholarship... and he couldn't afford college without it, so he went to work for his step mother's construction company putting up drywall.... and before long, supplementing that income by dancing around in a toolbelt, construction boots and thong. Everyone who went to school with him knew. Hell... everyone in town knew....” she sighed.

“....But you had LEFT town.... so you didn't know....”

Tina nodded with a blush and a sad smile. “I finally understood why he never called me back.... he didn't know what to say....”

“But there was no way he was going to your cousins wedding.... with many of the people he went to school with.” I said gently. Suddenly I found myself feeling awful for the guy. For all we knew he may still have a thing for Tina... but at this point he was NOT going back to his hometown and embarrassing her by being her wedding date in front of everyone who knew what he did for a living.

Tina nodded sadly. “You should have seen his face last night when he saw me in the audience, and he knew I knew.... Well... you DID see it... but you don't remember it.... maybe all for the best.... wish I could forget the look on his face... but I know I never will.” she said quietly.

I squeezed her forearm “it sounds like he still has feelings for you..... and from the way you're talking, I don't sense you getting all judge-y and disapproving... seems like there still something there for him.” I said gently.

She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. ….yeah.” she cracked a self-conscious smile “...still, dragging him along to meet my extended family is something I'm sure neither of us thinks is a good idea.” she flashed a bitter smirk.

“SO... wanna be my replacement plus one?” she forced a grin.

I smiled. “Since you put it that way... How can I say no?”

Tina gave me a quick hug and instantly became all business.

“Good. Now we have to get you respectable.... don't take this the wrong way, but you kind of look like the poster child for 'the morning after'.”

“Is there a right way to take that?” I smirked.

Tina shrugged it off. “First, we have to do something about your hair.”

“What's wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing.... if you're going out clubbing ...or even going to the mall... but for a big event with my aunts and uncles and God knows who else will be there?.... It's way too.... twenty first century.”

“Um... it IS the 21st Century?” I reminded her. She just grinned.

“Not where we're going.” her smirk was wicked. “....let me get my curling iron....”

When Tina was finished I felt (and probably looked) like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing.... which was supposed to be in, what, the 1950s? Pre-Beatles early 1960s?

The previous night's gray and silver metallic look 'hooker from the future' makeup had been replaced by muted earth tones which I felt much more comfortable with. Still, I felt I looked like a church-lady from 1961. ….read: '35 year old virgin'.

I thought the ring curls were a bit much, until I saw the peach A-Line dress Tina handed me. It had subtle pleats and looked like something your mom would wear to a PTA meeting. She then handed me the mock-pearl necklace and matching earrings and the jacket that went with the dress.

I shot her a 'You're joking, right?' look when she turned back to the closet and held the knit taupe twinset to her own torso with a 'you're not alone' resigned look.

I nodded sadly and began transferring my stuff to the June Cleaver purse she handed me. We got ourselves ready in relative silence. Tina would occasionally offer tidbits of what she considered helpful advice.

“My Aunt Rose is completely deaf and has no idea. Just smile and nod whatever she says. ….and don't blanche if she says really politically incorrect things. She's really sweet, but totally clueless. I don't think she's ever even met a Jewish or Asian person... So know anything outrageous she says comes out of an insulated but benign cluelessness. She really doesn't have a mean bone in her body, but don't try to set her straight, because she's hopeless ….and utterly deaf... so don't waste your breath....

….if any of my cousin Tony's friends try to hit on you, just remind them they all have girlfriends.... and after Tony & Donna's wedding, they are all under pressure to pop the question. Remind them that their tomcatting days are over and kids and mortgages are just a heartbeat away. THAT should quench their hard-ons and get them off your case.” Tina smiled wickedly.

I just nodded, trying to take everything in and thinking that shortly I was going to be wading in the shark pool with scores of strangers who thought I was just a single, pretty girl ...who, given the usual wedding dynamic, was feeling especially lonely and vulnerable and therefore a ripe prospect for any unscrupulous horndog. Suddenly I was glad I looked like an uptight second grade teacher and not like I did the night before.

I was beginning to regret agreeing to being Tina's plus one.

As Tina handed me the 'mom pumps' to match the outfit, I teased “what, no matching gloves?”. She shot me a thoughtful look, which upon seeing my face, morphed into a sardonic grin, once she realized I was being sarcastic. Whew. I just dodged a bullet. A self-inflicted one.

We all took separate cars to the church. I'm sure Tina's folks didn't expect any of their grown kids to ride with them, and I'm equally sure Frank and Sal took their own cars in case they scored at the reception, so Tina and I hopped into my humble little Hyundai and headed for the church.

On the way, I called my B&B and got Charles on the second ring.

“Hi Charles. It's Chloe Saville. I just wanted to give a call and say thanks for the list of things to see around town. I hope you're in when I get back this evening, because I'd really like to chat with you about some things.” I said brightly.

Charles laughed. “The pleasure is mine. And since I notice you didn't return last night, should I presume my list was better than I thought?”

I laughed back. “I hooked up with some friends and got hijacked into clubbing. By the time we all got back, it was easier to just crash with a friend.”

“Well, I didn't think you got abducted.... we got a grip on our lonely mountain man infestation years ago.” he chuckled.

“Good to know." I grinned. "I just wanted to call and say I hope we can catch up later today or this evening.”

“Another busy social calendar?” I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“It looks like I'm on my way to a wedding.” I laughed.

“Oh, my!” He replied in a dead-on George Takei “Please tell me there are no shotguns involved.” he chortled.

“Not on my part.” I laughed. “I'll let you know about the rest later.”

“Thanks for the update sweetie. Not that I'm the kind to wonder about a pretty stranger wandering around a town she's never been....”

I chuckled. “No. I'm sure you wouldn't. Still, I just wanted to call and say thanks for the list and I hope to see you later today.”

“I look forward to it” he said warmly.

Satisfied that I quelled any anxiety or curiosity about my failure to return to my B&B the previous night, I followed Tina's directions to the church.

We sat way near the back, which seemed to be Tina's idea, since the only family members who acknowledged us were the ones rude enough to crane their heads 180 degrees to glare at the latecomers. I noticed Tina's respectful nods of acknowledgment when glared at by members of her extend family. For my part, I just tried to project an aura of 'don't know, don't care.'.

It was a little hard to catch everything the priest was saying, but I quickly twigged that it wasn't English.

“Is that Italian?” I whispered to Tina, who smirked. Then nodded.

“In a way, I guess.... really old school. ...Roman.....”

Upon my confused look, she grinned “It's Latin.”

I made a face. I thought the Catholic Church stopped using Latin at about the same time Bing Crosby stopped playing movie priests.

“My family has this ….thing.... about tradition” she whispered. Then, giving me a cat that ate the canary grin “....in case you hadn't noticed.”

I smiled back. “So are they 'old school' or 'parochial school'?” I whispered. That caught Tina by surprise and her quickly clamped laugh came out as a loud sharp ...blip... as if she stubbed her toe and quickly stifled her outburst. Still, as it echoed through the cavernous church it was enough to cause a number of nosy heads to turn. I just continued gazing passively at the priest and happy couple as if I hadn't heard a thing. Tina stared down into her open hymnal so that all anyone could see was the top of her bowed head and not her beet red face.

It was a lovely, if vaguely confusing, service. I had been to Catholic Mass before, but always in English. Sometimes there were folk singers or other slight variations, but this seemed very different. Maybe this is how it was done in the last millennium. The very early days of the last millennium... like 1100 A.D.

'Old School' indeed!

When people started lining up for communion, the evil glares began in earnest. It was as if every member of her extended family and everyone else at the service was staring daggers at Tina, who made no hint of moving. She just sat there beside me and stared straight ahead obviously aware of all the disapproving glares but pointedly refusing to acknowledge them. When one older lady actually leaned into the pew, slapped Tina on the arm as if scolding a disruptive toddler and angrily cocked her head toward the crowd lining up for the front of the church, Tina finally broke her forward stare. She turned to the woman, mimed an eating gesture and shrugged. The woman shot her a disapproving scowl and irritatedly returned to the line.

Finally the service ended and before anyone had even stirred to move, Tina grabbed my elbow and leaned in. “Let's get the hell out of here.” she whispered.

We snuck out a side door. Tina obviously knew all the exits in this church. Or was it a cathedral? It was huge and ornate. It seemed to have all sorts of halls and passages and alcoves, yet Tina knew it like Indiana Jones.

We slid out a side entrance and worked our way around the side until we sidled into the crowd filling up the front of the church. As layer upon layer of wedding guests built up into the crowd swelling the front area, Tina had managed to maneuver us once again, into the very back... placing us staring at the backs of the heads of the entire wedding crowd.

It was then that I realized Tina's clever strategy. I shot her a smile and a nod. I think she realized that I finally understood her stealthy strategy, because she looked pleased as she returned my smile and nod. If we stayed where we were, the entire church would have had a chance to stare down Tina and her unfamiliar friend as they filed out. Tina had completely upended the dynamic and again it was we who were staring at them... well, the backs of their heads, and neither of us seemed to care about looking at any of them... just that they weren't looking at, staring, appraising, judging... either of us.

We stayed around long enough for Tina to be certain that she ….actually, we.... were in the background crowd of at least a half dozen wedding photos. Apparently satisfied that she had visual proof she had attended, she again grabbed my elbow and leaned in to whisper.... but I beat her to it, quietly smiling “Let's get the hell out of here.”

She beamed a grin and nodded, spinning quickly and striding with great purpose in the direction of my parked car.

Once we were in the car, Tina smiled. “We have some time... want to grab some takeout before the reception?”

I shot her a curious look. “Won't there be food at the reception?”

She nodded. “Something that tastes like chicken. And probably some kind of salisbury steak thing.... and something that's supposed to be some kind of fish.... but still probably tastes like chicken.....”

“You know the caterer.” I smiled. She grinned back.

“My uncle Angelo. I don't think he's really an uncle, just some old friend of the family's. He always caters these things. He has a.... well, he's not really a ...caterer... he does food service at a bunch of nursing homes and Saint Jerome's.... that's a home for retired priests... and he does some events at the KofC hall....” She explained. Then with a twinkle in her eye, she said “Let's pre-load on takeout.”

I nodded. I presumed she was trying to warn me that the food was mediocre middle school lunchroom.

“And refreshments?” I smiled as we made our way to this place she remembered.

“THAT... will be no problem.” Tina grinned. “My cousin Carmine always handles the bar. His family runs a wine and spirits distributor. And he knows people at the local bartenders school. They treat these events as graduate exams. I guarantee you will get whatever you want. I love playing stump the bar guy at these things. I almost never can.” she grinned.

“After last night, I think I'll stick with diet Sprite.” I smiled.

“Suit yourself.” Tina said. “But after a few hours with my family and Donna's friends, you may change your mind.”

I smiled politely, but she wasn't finished.

“If you find yourself ordering a double zombie and wanting to rip your own brain out by the end of the night, I won't judge.” Tina laughed.

I smiled politely wondering just what I had gotten myself into.

We had a surprisingly good meal from 'Pangs' – apparently the only Asian take out place in town – which explained the really diverse menu. When I saw it I presumed it was equally mediocre from Szechuan to sushi... but I quickly admitted I was being a prejudiced food-snob. Tina recommended the Gyoza, and she was so right. Still, I couldn't resist mixing it up, ordering everything from sashimi to bibimbap to find where they came up short.

I had to admit, they excelled at everything I ordered, from Kung Pao to Kimchee. I ended up ordering way more than I intended to eat because the menu was so diverse and I wanted to try almost everything. So we wound up having Asian Tapas! We each nibbled a little of everything and bagged most – except the sashimi – for leftovers.

After we had procrastinated as long as we could, Tina sighed heavily and directed me to the Knights of Columbus Hall.

The reception seemed well underway, yet a quick sweep of the crowd yielded no trace of the happy couple.

“They may be off changing” Tina said unconvincingly. Then with an evil grin added “...or bonking.”

At my look she grinned. “...which means they haven't changed at all!”

I grinned back.

No one seemed to notice, or care, that the happy couple weren't among the partying crowd.

Tina found our table, it was empty at the moment but there were drinks and random items indicating a number of seats had already been 'marked'. We did the same. I draped my jacket over the back of a chair. Tina examined a water glass, apparently deemed it 'virgin' and brought it to her lips, not actually drinking anything, but leaving large lipstick marks on the glass and placing it in front of the seat next to mine. She then turned to me with a wicked grin.

“Let's mingle.”

We had not traveled 50 feet from our table when a loud voice cried out “Christina!”

Tina turned and plastered on a smile. “Auntie Vera! So great to see you.”

This 50-ish woman in a rose wrap dress was storming through the crowd like a coast guard icebreaker headed straight for us. While utterly ignoring me, Vera wasted no time sizing Tina up. She placed her hands on Tina's shoulders and twisted her from side to side.

“College agrees with you.” she smiled. “What happened to the 'freshman fifteen'? You look even skinnier than you were in high school.” She seemed slightly perplexed. Then her face got a wicked gleam.

“Did you meet a boy?” she almost-leered.

Tina blushed and shook her head. “Aunt Vera, I'm a sophomore. ….and even last year, I never picked up the freshman fifteen. That's just an urban legend.” she smiled politely.

Vera wasn't buying it. With a devilish gleam in her eye she clucked “I understand dear. College is like Vegas. What happens there stays there.”

Grinning, Tina shot back “That's not college. That's uncle Vito's lake house.”

Vera seemed nonplussed for a moment, unsure how to react. Then she chose conspiratorial mirth and joined Tina's laugh.

“I see you still have your grandmother's tongue.” she laughed.

Tina reached out and grabbing her aunts elbow, turned her to me.

“Aunt Vera, I'd like you to meet my friend Chloe.”

I smiled politely, unsure of the protocol.

Vera's eyes quickly scanned me toes to top, she plastered on a polite smile and extended a hand.

“Chloe. ….is that.... French?” She asked ever so politely. She may as well have been politely asking “your gown.... is that real burlap?”

I smiled and nodded. “I believe so. Saville. Chloe Saville.” I said, channeling every Bond film I had ever seen and kind of wishing at the moment that I had a license to kill.

“How interesting.” She said with disinterest. “You know Christina from school?”

Tina quickly interjected. “Chloe was nice enough to give me a ride so I didn't have to spend a day on a bus.” she forced a smile, determined to keep it perky and superficial.

“So she drove you all the way here?” her eyebrow elevated. “And she's your date to the wedding?” Vera was beginning to look daggers at Tina.

“Oh. God, no.” Tina laughed nervously. It sounded very forced. “I asked..... well, um... that's not important.... he bailed on me and I had RSVP'd for two... so I figured as payback for driving me all the way here, I'd..”

“Introduce her to your entire family at your cousin Anthony's wedding?” Vera snipped.

Tina blanched, suddenly realizing what a misguided idea this was. For my part, I was remaining motionless ...like those kids avoiding the T-Rex in Jurassic Park.

“I should go..” I began to say, not knowing what else to do. Vera shot me a 'stay out of this French girl' glare and commandingly put up a 'stifle' hand.

Turning back to Tina, Vera leaned in. “You know these people. There will be talk. I can't believe your father let you.... wait... he doesn't know!.... this was your mother's idea!”

That did it. Tina's back stiffened and she looked her aunt in the eye with a ferocity I've never seen. She said quietly, kind of menacingly, in a near whisper. “This. Was. NO one's idea. I'm a grown woman and I make my own choices. I brought my friend here for moral support. I wanted someone to have my back because I knew the event would be filled with moments like this.” she nearly spat the last word. Her imperious aunt suddenly seemed a bit less haughty.

Backing down she replied quietly. “I'm only looking out for you dear. People will talk. You never dated all through high school. And now you're off to college out of town and you show up at Anthony's wedding with a girl as your date?” I felt the swipe of her eyes momentarily darting my direction.

Tina was not backing down. “How could I date with my dad running profiles on every boy who even said hello to me?” she whispered, the agitation unmistakable. “Talk to Tony. Hell, talk to Donna! NO one would even talk to me, because everybody knew about him!”

Vera chuckled. “Now now. I'm sure it wasn't that bad.”

Tina cut her off, still full of fury. “Yes. It WAS. He should've just locked me in a goddamned bubble. It would have been easier for all of us!” Suddenly Tina's eyes went wide, realizing she'd gone way over the line.

Vera looked ready to slap her down for cursing at her, but seeing Tina's expression, knew that Tina was already well aware and mortified at her own outburst. Vera softened slightly.

“I'm just saying.... you never dated in high school. And now you show up to your cousin's wedding with....” and she made a dismissive gesture in my direction. “...people will talk.”

Tina scowled. That scowl slowly morphed into an evil grin and I braced myself for whatever scheme she was cooking up.

“Well, I can't go around the reception being all loose and flirty.” she said to her aunt. “God, that would be incestuous and wrong! …..But Chloe can make it crystal clear that she is a very, very, straight girl.” And she turned to me with a mischievous smirk.

Oh crap.

As we broke away from the orbit of her aunt Vera, Tina plunged into the crowd, presumably with a goal in mind. I sidled up to her and leaned in to discreetly plead my case.

“You are not really planning to use me as a distraction to keep your family from asking why you don't have a love life. ….Are you?”

Tins shook her head. “No. Nah.... I just said that to get my aunt Vera off my case. ….still.... after last night we know you can make a spectacular distraction.” she leered.

“Oh God. Are you ever going to let me live that down? I never would have been in that situation..”

“As if there was just one” Tina laughed.

“Fine! ….any of those situations if you hadn't recruited me to join your friend Lauren's ….slut squad!”

Tina barked a laugh then quickly regained her composure. “Ohmigod. That's perfect! I'm going to have to tell her that one.... slut squad....” she chuckled to herself.

I put my hand on her shoulder and stopped walking. She had little choice but to stop too and turn to face me.

“I agreed to go out with you last night because we're friends. And even after all that, I still agreed to be your plus one at this reception.... because we're friends. But I have to be honest. You're really testing our friendship.” I tried to soften the harshness of my words with a smile, but I didn't want to soften them too much, because it really was how I was feeling.

Tina looked surprised, then very quickly her expression changed to repentance.

“Sorry if you felt I was using you. That was never my intention. It's just.... you're good company and things are just more fun when you're along.” She shrugged and flashed a shy smile.

Damn. I couldn't stay angry at her, and I'm sure she knew it. My harsh expression softened.

“Anyway.... if you intended me to get all flirty and tease-y with your extended family, why on earth did you insist on dressing me up like a librarian at a bible college?” I grinned.

She regarded me for just a little too long, then broke into a goofy grin.

“Y'know, you could be a NAUGHTY librarian....”

I rolled my eyes.

“...nothing sexier than some unbridled passion in the stacks.” she leered.

“Oh, puh-leeeze!” I lamented theatrically. Still, I was unable to completely squelch my smile.

We proceeded to wade into the crowd. Suddenly Tina grabbed my elbow and swerved.

“Tommy! Eddie! Who invited you?” Tina shouted across the crowd with a big grin on her face. Two big guys. I mean really big. They looked athletic, but curiously not that physically fit. One was quite stocky and practically bursting out of his tux like an overstuffed sausage. I immediately imagined him more at home in a letter jacket on his way to football practice. The other one was much skinnier. Tall and gaunt with reddish blonde hair and a face that looked like a partially cooked pizza. He kind of reminded me of the actor Michael Rapaport ….only taller, skinnier and with a terrible complexion. This guy had the worst acne I'd ever seen, and seemed to also be suffering from rosacea.

“Oh, hey Chris.” the ginger haired giant smiled. His stout friend just shot us a slightly perturbed look.

“We're ushers Chrissie... which you would have known if you bothered to go to the wedding.” stocky guy sneered in a put-upon voice.

I caught the gleam in Tina's eye. Obviously messing with these guys was another of her childhood traditions.

“Ahhhh.” she smiled. “....that would explain the... uh.... matching....” she vaguely pointed her hand waving over their tuxes, which really were about as far from matching as possible. Yeah, they were both gaudy and looked like they came from the clearance bin at the prom rental outlet. But the one on the tall guy draped like a tarp, while his stocky friend looked to be trying to burst out of his at every roll and bulge.

“Duh!” bulge-y guy said, while his friend just glanced down at him with a forlorn look, sensing full well that they were swaggering into a minefield. “What did you think it was?” he asked with a really annoying whine.

“When I saw the two of you standing side by side? …..All I could think of was 'gay wedding cake'.” Tina grinned. The tall one burst a laugh that sounded like a braying donkey before he could stifle it. He shot us a grin, no doubt heightened by his friends annoyance.

While stocky-guy fumed, no doubt fumbling mentally for a snappy retort, gangly guy smiled down at us.

“Geez, Chris. You look great! College sure agrees with you!”

Tina broke into a smile. It was honest and relaxed. “God, thanks Ed. Yeah. I really love it. How about you?”

“Doing some stuff at community college & tech classes.... HVAC training.” He smiled.

Tina nodded. “Cool.” Then she blushed. “....no pun intended!”

They both laughed. They seemed to be old comfortable acquaintances.

Then beefy guy spoke up. “Who's your ….friend?”. I turned to notice he was staring at me. Well, at my chest actually.

Tina shot me an apologetic look. I wasn't sure if it was because she failed to introduce me or because she had tried to avoid getting me involved and failed.

“This is my friend Chloe.... from school....” she lied. “Chloe, Ed O'Rahilly...” gangly guy bowed slightly with a smile “...and Tom Barrone...” stocky guy nodded with what sounded like a snort. “Chloe spared me a brutal bus ride and is exploring Greenville for the weekend. After all that, the least I could do was feed her and let her meet my friends”

“...and your family...” beefy guy snorted. I got the feeling that instead of a tux, he should be wearing a t-shirt with 'certified tool' printed on it. Then again, he didn't need one.

“They're your family too.” Tina shot back.

Turning to me, the slight pain obvious on her face, she shrugged an apologetic grin. “We're cousins.”

“Tom is. I'm not. No relation.” Gangly guy interjected with raised finger and a grin.

“You look altogether too happy about that.” I smiled. His face fell as beefy guy shot him a glare.

“I... uh... no... I just mean....” he stammered.

I never knew skin that pale could turn so bright red. I suddenly felt terrible.

“Just teasing.” I smiled. “Obviously you guys are all old friends. And aren't friends really the extended family we get to choose?” I hoped I was wriggling out of the corner I worked myself into.

He relaxed and smiled. The blood began to leave his face, which made me relax too. He had looked like a blister ready to pop.

“I never thought of it that way.” he grinned. ...at Tina.

Oh there was definitely something there. I hid my own wicked grin.

“We all went to school together.” Tina explained as if it weren't obvious.

I smiled and nodded.

“Since middle school.” Gangly Ed said, still giving Tina a warm gaze which she either didn't notice or acknowledge.

“So. What's your deal?” Beefy Tom asked, still kind of glaring at me.

“Say what now?” I asked, suddenly sounding very Texas and having no idea where that came from. Still, it worked. The response seemed to throw him too. At least long enough for Tina to butt in.

“I told you. I met Tina at school.” She quickly tried to turn the conversation from the dark place it was obviously headed from the tone of his voice.

“What are you. One of her teachers? You look like a teacher.” Tom was undeterred.

I shot him a smile. I was going for arrogant confidence. Not sure I succeeded.

“Ti... Christina.... you didn't need to tell me you two were related.” I turned to him “Mind if I call you little Ken? You are SO like your uncle.”

He went red. Not as red as his reedlike friend. Just average human-blush red. His fuming made my smile broader.

“No matter if you DO mind. I am SO calling you little Ken!” I beamed. He fumed.

“Christ! You college bitches are so pushy.” He muttered.

I shot him a glare, raised two fingers in his direction and loudly clucked my tongue. “Language, young man!”

To my amazement, it worked. He instantly backed down and lowered his eyes like a scolded dog. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Tina's surprise. ….and delight.

Tina seized the opportunity to get us moving.

“You two... behave!” she grinned. “This reception is filled with vulnerable women dreaming of romance and their own happy ending. Don't go taking advantage.” she teased.

Stocky Tom broke out into an evil leer as if Tina had just pointed out a buffet table. Gangly Ed just grinned, smiling down at Tina. It was clear to everyone (except possibly her) that he only had eyes for one person at the reception.

“Maybe we'll see you la...” he raised his hand to wave when Tom grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him away.

“Hey toolsack!” Tom yelled across the room at someone and Ed made an apologetic shrug to us before being pulled away to join his boisterous mate on their rounds.

“Sorry about that.” Tina offered a sheepish smile.

“No worries.” I smiled back with a shrug. “Families.... we all have them.” And I fought back a reflexive wince as I thought of my own.

She relaxed and we continued to mingle. She introduced me to a lot of the folks she went to high school with, though they were all the bride's friends and not hers as they took passive aggressive pride to make crystal clear. They didn't have to expend that much effort. It was obvious to me from what I already knew of Tina that these phony, catty girls and clueless, tool-ey guys were not the kinds of people she would hang out with... in high school or ever. I sensed Tina's stress level rising a bit. It was like a convention of all the reasons she moved to another state to attend college.

“You OK?” I gently grabbed her hand.

She nodded yes. But 'not really' was in her eyes.

“Must be a trip to come back and see how much has changed. ….and how much hasn't.” I smiled.

She let out a small snort as the grin began to grow on her face. “....yeah....” she nodded, surveying the hall.

“You're practically a tourist here yourself at this point.” I said brightly. “Just passing through for a few days then you're off again.” As I had hoped, framing it that way seemed to cheer her up. “But unlike me, you know your way around.... all the places to visit....”

“...and avoid.” She finished my sentence for me and gave my hand a squeeze. “...wish I had thought to add this place to that last list.” she sighed.

“Probably not an option” I smiled shaking my head slowly. “Some things you can't get out of ….or really shouldn't.... like weddings, funerals, jury duty....”

Tina laughed. Her anxiety beginning to fade.

We circulated a little more and Tina introduced me to more of her relatives and old schoolmates. The entire crowd pretty much broke into those two categories. There were the extended family members who greeted “Chrissy” like the prodigal returning from the inconceivable foreign land... and always being reminded by Tina that she was just back for a visit. Then there were the high school acquaintances – admittedly, the bride's friends – who treated Tina like a social cold-sore that had suddenly flared up again just in time for the yearbook photo. Tina conceded that it wasn't just because these were Donna's friends. She reminded me that she was the 'quirky chick with the crazy dad', and that while she maybe wasn't exactly an outright pariah in school, she was the uncool girl that most classmates gave a wide berth. That was OK with her, since she seemed to have a mutual contempt for the majority of her classmates.

The band stopped playing and a guy got to the mic asking everyone to take their seats as the happy couple had finally returned from ….wherever they had been... and the festivities were about to officially begin.

We found our way to our assigned tables. We were seated with a number of older people, I suppose that made sense since this was Tony & Donna's wedding and their friends. Although there were many people Tina's age at the reception, it was clear that none of them was her friend. I presumed even the one guy at the table near our age was a relative given the reflexive head nod between the two.

I found the chair where I'd draped my jacket and Tina sat beside me.

“Chloe, you already know my Aunt Vera... this is my uncle Lou....”

The older guy next to Vera gave a head nod from across the table.

“Who else is here?” Tina asked the couple. Lou shrugged. Vera scowled.

Before we could get an answer, we were joined by the other two at our table.

“Father Shaun!” Tina yelled to the incredibly elderly priest who pulled out the chair next to a scowling Vera.

He looked up, confused. “What?” he addressed the general table.

Tina leaned across the table and held out a hand. “Nothing. I was just saying hello. It's been ages.”

He looked warily at her hand, then at her. Eventually he just snorted and loudly plopped into his chair.

“Old friend of the family.... going way back....” Tina whispered to me. “I think my grandfather was an altar boy for him.”

“I think 8 of the 12 apostles were altar boys for him” grinned the guy who slid into the seat between Father Shaun and myself.

Tina shot him a look, Vera made a loud 'tsssst' sound. He threw his hands up with a smile. “Forget about it. He can't hear a thing. He probably doesn't even know where he is.” he grinned.

Vera gave him a disapproving scowl. Tina seemed almost as annoyed as her aunt. With a face that looked like she just caught the scent of something fowl, she looked at the guy, who seemed about our age, and said “Chloe this is...”

The guy instantly shot out of his chair, which was wholly unnecessary since he was sitting right next to me, still he stood over me, hand extended.

“Jerome. Jerome Rossi.” He beamed. “You know.... like the saint?”

“Ah. Saint Rossi.” I nodded politely.

“I like her.” He said to a still scowling Vera. “She's funny.” Then he turned to me. “You're funny!” he grinned.

“And you're Jerome.” I smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

He just continued to grin. “Way more than nice. This is epic!”

I darted my eyes to a very unhappy Tina. I had no idea what this guy was saying, but whether it made sense to her or not, Tina seemed to be growing more annoyed by the second.

Tina and Vera both looked like they wanted to speak, but we were all interrupted by someone tapping a spoon on a wine glass, and soon all eyes were on the happy couple and the wedding party as the festivities began.

They got through the rituals, from the awkward toast by the best man – which may have rated – as Jerome would say – epically awkward. To a father of the bride dance that seemed inappropriately ….carnal, a cake cutting ceremony which I was sure was going to erupt in a flat-out food fight among the entire hall, a garter ceremony that should have required clearing the hall of minors, and other rituals that somehow seemed some alternative (and R-rated) universe version of established traditions. I've never been to Mardi Gras or Carnivale, but after this reception, I feel I've come as close to the experience as I'd ever care to.

As soon as the 'festivities' were over, Tina pushed back her chair and turned to me with a relieved smile. Before she was even fully out of her chair, her aunt Vera had shot from her own and was whisking Tina away by the arm. Although honestly, from the expression on Tina's face, 'abducting' would not be an inaccurate description.

The moment the two women were away, Jerome leaned towards Lou and Father Shaun and shouted over the now-blaring band. “You two chat among yourselves.” He then turned to me with an ear to ear grin and shouted. “Let's dance!”

Before I could even respond, he had one hand on my elbow and the other in the small of my back and I found myself catapulted towards the middle age moshpit that served as the Knights of Columbus Hall's 'dance floor'.

Fortunately Jerome wasn't a terribly tactile dancer. He just stood a few feet from me, hopefully just out of striking distance, and began writhing and flailing like someone who had just stepped on a high tension cable. His Joker-like permagrin belied the fact that he was having any sort of seizure, despite what his jerking body and twitching limbs would indicate. There was something about his 'dance' that I could not place. When I thought of Elaine's dancing on Seinfeld, I failed to suppress my smirk. To my dismay, Jerome took this as approval of his dance skills and brought everything up a notch. I backed a bit further, as far as I could in the crowd. No one seemed to want to get too close to the dancing dervish so I found myself pressed into a wall of people going through their own motions of dancing, all the while taking in the spectacle of my dance partner with a mixture of dismay and malevolent fascination. The attention only seemed to feed his energy. I fully expected at any moment that he'd break into a full split and begin writhing around the floor in an energetic 'Worm'.

To my great relief the Springsteen song the band had been playing ended and the room fell silent. People began to quickly evacuate the dance floor. As the crowd ahead of me slowly tricked off the dance floor, I wished they'd move faster so I could leave too before the music ...oh, crap!

Jerome caught the attention of the band. They all grinned wickedly back at him and broke into an ear shattering rendition of Mambo Number 5. I felt as if I was nearly free when I felt Cthulu wrap a tentacle around my ankle. OK, it was really just Jerome's hand around my wrist, but the dismay was the same.

We had the dance floor to ourselves. My first thought was that the other dancers had fled when the music stopped. But I noticed they were now ringing the dance floor watching us with reactions from evil glee to the look of people who are compelled to stare at a grizzly accident. It reminded me of nothing more than a scene out of West Side Story where everyone was watching two people about to go at it in a knife-fight.

Before I even had time to panic that I was not really a dancer... Well, I liked to 'shake it on the dancefloor' as much as the next girl, but I was no dancing-with-the-stars athletic performer with choreographed moves... In fact, I didn't really have any moves. But that didn't seem to matter as Jerome flung me around like a rag doll to the music. He pulled me in tight and shot me away, firmly gripping my wrist so that when we got to full arms length I was painfully snapped back like some sort of human yo-yo trick. I quickly stopped worrying about having any 'moves' and devoted all my energy to the struggle of maintaining my balance and not sprawling onto the floor while being wrenched around like a passenger on some criminally unsafe carnival ride.

I quickly became so dizzy and disoriented that there was no room for embarrassment. I simply wanted to survive this 'ride'. I'm pretty sure that I was virtually tossed head over heels. It was fast and startling - like a judo flip. I found myself rolling down Jerome's back and somehow managed to land on my feet as he spun back to face me and the wild ride continued. The few times I did actually lose my footing was when I was dipped so violently toward the floor, I fully expected my snapping head to bounce off it like a handball. I will have to give this to Jerome. He seemed like an out of control carnival ride, but he always pulled it back before things fell apart. Against all expectations, I avoided a concussion. Although I had a strong hunch that within a day or two, whiplash might be a serious concern.

It seemed like hours, but if I recall, the song is only about 3 minutes long. Then again, as I recall, so is that really scary part of re-entry of a space capsule. When the song ended, Jerome took a deep bow to the hooting crowd and before I knew it I was spun off my feet and his deep bow had transformed into a deep dip as he jammed his tongue down my throat in front of the rowdy, whooping crowd.

My gag reflex came to my rescue, and I think Jerome suddenly thought I was going to throw up into his mouth. He jettisoned me like someone lobbing a grenade and finally my head did bounce off the floor. Still, possible concussion seemed like a preferable fate to the intrusion by the amorous anteater.

The crowd laughed as I remained splayed on the floor. I was dazed and disoriented. The room was still spinning as I tried to gather my wits. I thought it was more residual dizziness from the ride I just endured than anything from the hard contact my skull just had with the floor. Still, I wanted to stay down as long as they'd permit me while I collected my composure and caught my breath. I looked up and noticed Jerome had already moved on. The rest of the crowd were watching me expectantly. I wanted to announce 'Nothing more to see here. Move along.' but before I could, a hand reached out from the sea of smirking faces.

It was Tina. A very contrite Tina. As she opened her mouth to speak, the world's loudest wedding band jumped into a Bruno Mars tune and I could only watch her lips mouth 'I'm SO sorry!'. I smiled, recalling that night I met her at St@t!c and mused that if one of us couldn't have read lips, we'd never have struck up a conversation.

I reluctantly gathered myself to my feet and sensed that the impatient people wanting to dance were thinking 'about frickin' time'. Tina held my arm and wrapped her other 'round my waist, which was a relief because I still didn't feel too steady on my feet. We made our way back to our table, where Vera was watching us approach with a perma-glare. Before we arrived at our table but after we got far enough from the band to barely hear each other, Tina shouted “SO sorry I ditched you! Aunt Vera pulled me aside to warn me that she thought Jerry might be off his meds.” She scowled. And the lightbulb went off over my head. She read it on my face and flashed me a conflicted smile. “Yeah. And by yanking me away, she left you there like a rabbit in a wolf den.” Tina shook her head angrily. “As she began to tell me, I knew we never should have left you alone. By the time I got back, it was just Uncle Lou and Father Shaun. While I frantically scanned the room I heard Mambo Number 5 and knew it was already too late.”

I shot her a confused look. “You heard Ma....”

She cut me off with a conflicted smirk. “It's his patented move. Especially when he's off his lithium. When he was five it was cute. He was kind of like hyperactive Webster and grownups couldn't get enough of it. Eventually they did, but he didn't. As he grew older it got less and less cute, but it didn't matter to Jerry. Turns out he doesn't do it for the attention... at least not any more.... he just does it because he loves doing it. And there are some people....” she scanned the room with a scowl “....who think it's hilarious to encourage him.”

“Tony & Donna's friends” I ventured. Tina shook her head.

“Tony's friends don't because they know they're related, and Tony would beat them senseless if they encouraged his cousin to make a spectacle. …..as if he would need encouragement....”

“But Donna's friends....” I cracked a slight smile.

“Yeah. Did I mention that she's an evil bitch?” Tina smirked.

“I recall you saying something about that.” I grinned.

“Well, they run in packs. So, yeah... her friends would encourage anyone not in their clique to publicly humiliate themselves.”

“Which I just did.” I scowled.

Tina made dismissive gestures. “No. Nah. Not really. It was all Jerry. You just got sucked into the tornado.”

“Well, judging from the looks I'm getting, I still feel like I made a public spectacle of myself too.”

Tina shot me a concerned look. I think she was trying to figure out how to dispel my embarrassment. I put her out of my misery.

“Good thing I don't know or care who any of these people are and will never see them again.” I grinned. Tina relaxed as we reached our table.

“Christina!” her aunt Vera snapped. If looks could kill, I guess this would be considered a warning shot.

Tina gave her aunt a puzzled look. I saw Vera's eyes locked on Tina's hand around my waist before she did. I pulled away and took my chair.

“Thanks for helping me back. I'm still so dizzy, I'd probably still be weaving though the crowd trying to find my bearings.” I smiled to Tina.

She returned my smile. “It was the least I could do. I'm SO sorry we left you alone without so much as a warning.” I caught her return her aunt's glare. Vera backed down instantly and seemed knocked off her high horse.

“In all fairness, you were NOT left alone with Jerome.” Vera turned to look at Lou, who refused to make eye contact and gave a slight shrug. He was NOT going to get dragged into this. Realizing it was futile, Vera turned to scowl at Father Shaun. She got no better satisfaction as he seemed to be asleep. Tina and I exchanged glances. I knew we were both hoping he was merely asleep.

“Have some water.” Tina smiled as she handed me my glass. “Let me know when the dizziness passes.”

“I think it's gone.” I smiled. “But I think I might like something a little stronger than water.”

Tina laughed. “I TOLD you! Let me introduce you to my cousin Carmine.”

In the end, I settled for a Proseco & Aquafina. It was enough to calm my nerves but not to trigger an unpleasant flashback of the night before.

“I am SO pissed at my aunt!” Tina said. “She pulled me aside to say she thought Jerry had stopped taking his lithium. As soon as she said that I realized that we ditched you at the table alone with him. I could have killed her on the spot for that.”

“...I wasn't entirely alone....” I shrugged.

“Father Shaun and my Uncle Lou? You were essentially on your own. Father Shaun hasn't known where he is since the 1980s and Uncle Lou has carried 'minding his own business' to insane extremes for years. After being married to auntie Vera for 40 years, he counters her snoopiness with his own extreme indifference. You could burst into flames in front of him and at best he'd mutter 'someone should do something'.” Tina rolled her eyes. “Still, I'm surprised you agreed to dance with my cousin Jerry.”

I smiled sardonically. “Agreement had nothing to do with it. The band started playing, his eye got a gleam, and next thing I was being yanked by the arm like a toddlers bear and found myself on the floor with ….the dance demon....”

Tina laughed. “God, I'm going to have to remember that. That's perfect. Yeah, it's my cousin Al's band. He knows the songs that just set Jerry off and can't resist pushing those buttons.

I rubbed my head. “I hope I don't have a concussion.”

“Trust me” Tina laughed. “If you got away from an encounter with Jerry with only a concussion, you're ahead of the curve.” Then she got serious. “Do you want to go somewhere and have it looked at?”

I shook my head. I hadn't really hit the floor that hard. I was more startled by it than injured.

Tina's face suddenly broke into a smile. “I have an idea.” She lifted onto her toes and began craning her neck into a sweep of the hall like a searchlight. Suddenly she found what she had been looking for. She dropped from her toes and grabbed my arm. “You need to meet Enzo.” She tore across the hall to a prematurely bald guy chatting to one of the bridesmaids. Tina tore between them like a bouncer breaking up a fight.

“'scuse me... medical emergency.... flirt with him later Angie...” and she practically body-checked the extremely annoyed bridesmaid, who took a deep breath and was about to rebut... but Tina never gave her the chance.

“Enzo. Hi. Sorry to interrupt.” Tina made an apologetic face, then turned to the bridesmaid with an expression that wasn't at all apologetic. In fact, if I had to caption it, I'd probably choose 'why are you still here?'.

Tina yanked me in front of Enzo and went on, not even taking a breath to let Angie get a word in. “This is my friend Chloe, and I think Jerry may have given her a concussion.”

Enzo's brows furrowed and he made a face. He did not seem happy. Then again, neither he did he seem surprised. He quickly pulled me to him and lifted my head to him.

“What exactly happened?” He asked as he continued to move his hands over my head and face. His fingers surveyed my scalp, presumably for bumps or something. He took my chin in his hand and swiveled my head from looking left to looking right as the fingers on his other hand felt the tendons in my neck muscles. I tried to answer him, but it wasn't easy as he kept moving my head every which way.

“Um. He dragged me to the dancefloor and, um....” I wasn't sure exactly how to describe it.

Enzo's face got a bitter smile. “Ah. I heard Mambo Number 5.”

That seemed to explain everything so I cut to the punchline.

“Then he swept me into a deep dip and let me go. My head bounced off the floor as he walked off the dancefloor and into the crowd.”

Enzo scowled. He tilted my head back and had me open my eyes wide. Apparently not wide enough because he gently lifted the skin above my lids and had me roll my eyes around. He tilted my head toward some lights in the ceiling. Then he had me follow his finger with my eyes. He seemed satisfied with my response to his quick exam.

“Your responses all seem fine. I wouldn't stress about it.” He smiled.

“Thanks doc.” I smiled. And caught Tina's wince as Enzo raised his fingers.

“Oh, I'm not ….exactly... what you seem to be thinking.” He chuckled. “I don't know what Christina told you.”

“Um. She just said 'You need to meet Enzo' and dragged me to you.”

He nodded. Then startled. “How rude of me. Enzo. Enzo Cestaro.”

“Doctor Enzo Cestaro.” Tina held up a finger.

Enzo shrugged. “I run Noah's Ark-Aid..... it's a veterinary clinic in Cobb's Landing.”

“So he IS a doctor....” Tina struggled to spin it.

“I'm a vet.” He smiled shyly. “But I'd still trust my prognosis. I played rugby in school and I'm no stranger to concussion.” He smiled. “Just don't ask me for any pain scrips.” His grin was devilish.

“I was going to say 'thank you and a pleasure to meet you'...” I mused. “Maybe I should just give you my paw.” I grinned and proffered my hand like an eager pup.

Enzo threw his head back and barked a laugh. Turning back to me with rosy cheeks and his smiling eyes glistening with the trace of a tear of laughter he fought to hold back, he chuckled “THAT's the kind of gratitude I got into this career for.”

Suddenly his eyes darted into the crowd. Enzo abruptly grabbed my hand and with a forced smile said “Let's dance”. Which clearly annoyed the bridesmaid who had been chatting him up.

As I was kind of dragged to the dance floor I groped to understand what just happened. I faintlly managed to blurt out “Is this another concussion test?” With an ambivalent smile.

Enzo gave me an apologetic look. “More like a prophylactic reflex to avoid future concussion. I saw Jerome coming at us like an RPG."

I winced involuntarily. “Thanks for the rescue.” I smiled.

“Least I could do. He's only a third cousin, but I find I often end up dealing with the result of his antics at family gatherings. Did Christina ever tell you of the time he 'freed the lobsters' at a big 50th anniversary party in a very posh restaurant?”

I tried to keep a straight face and mostly succeeded. But I was sure I would not be able to hold back the giggle, so I kept my lips tight and simply shook my head.

“Oh, the stories I could tell. He's a good guy actually. But when he's off his meds, which happens rather often actually..... I can't entirely blame him, I'm sure the chemical straightjacket is terrible.... still, when he 'goes clean' and gets manic, consequences no longer register with him and he becomes a bit of a danger to himself – and others – like you."

I nodded. Enzo and I were dancing fairly close to a slow song when I felt the strong tap on his shoulder through his physical contact with me. It wasn't a tap so much as a violent poke.

“Cutting in!” The voice said.

Enzo released me and spun around. “No Jerry. Find your OWN dance partner.”

Jerome darted around him and grabbed me, yelling at his cousin “No fair. Cuts-ies are allowed!”

Before Enzo could even get a word out, Jerome yanked me deeper into the dance floor and wrapped around me like a python.

“Hey baby. I thought I lost you.” he leered as he dove in at me with his mouth open and his tongue out like ….well, like a snake.

Before he was able to assault my face, I felt another tap through his body. But this wasn't a tap. It was a rough shove. Jerry spun furiously to face the 'tapper'.

“Cutting IN.” Tina's dad said with steely resolve. Jerry scowled and fought to suppress his fury, but even in his fugue state he had enough sense to realize the futility of this encounter. He spat an epithet and stormed off the floor.

Ken held me in a polite yet almost close manner and continued the dance to the slow ballad.

“You seem to be the most popular dance partner at this affair.” he grinned. “I'm surprised you have any room left on your dance card.”

“I fear I will have to turn it in for a fresh one like an overused passport.” I smiled.

“Or maybe you should just sit the rest of this party out.” Ken grinned.

“Fine by me. But others seem to have their own ideas.”

“I'll take care of Jerome. Were you and Enzo.....?”

I laughed. “No. Ti... Christina introduced us after Jerome nearly gave me whiplash, and he dragged me to the dancefloor to escape a storming Jer....”

“I saw it. Enzo's a good guy, but he's too polite to handle Jerome when he gets like this.”

“Thanks for the rescue.” I smiled. “I seem to be needing a lot of them recently.”

Ken chuckled. “Of course you do. You're one of Christina's friends.”

I cocked my head and gave him a quizzical look.

“You met her friends last night and her family today” Ken laughed. “Is it any wonder that Chris.... that Tina and her friends need routine rescues?”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you.” I whispered into his year. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Ken smiled and nodded. “No problem mystery girl.”

I could feel the blood leave my face. Already Ken had started snooping. And apparently he hit my firewall.

“I.... I should get back to my table.... I'm sure you have lots of family to catch up with.” I blustered, trying to extricate myself from this awkward encounter.

Ken nodded. The expression on his face was unreadable, but I got the impression that his ambivalence about this large family gathering was nearly as strong as Tinas.

“Don't be a stranger” he smiled ….ominously?... as he headed back into the crowd.

I roamed the crowd of wedding revelers until I spotted Tina chatting with a bunch of bridesmaids.

“Hey!” I greeted as I approached them. Tina turned with a smile. “Hey yourself! Did Enzo finally decide it was safe for you to go 'free range'?”

I shook my head with a wry smile. “Not exactly. Jerry cut in on the dance floor.”

At the mention of his name, I noticed the group scowl on the bridesmaids. Apparently Tina's cousin was legend.

Tina grimaced at my news. ...and was perplexed by my sudden grin.

“But then I was rescued....”

Her eyebrow raised.

“...by your Dad.” I smirked. The gaggle of bridesmaids collectively startled. Then grinned.

“HE was the one who decided it was safe for me to wander on my own.” I grinned.

Tina shook her head slightly, trying to process what I just told her. The bridesmaids were not so nonplussed.

“If Chris won't introduce us, I guess we'll just have to tell you ourselves” the tall, perky one on the left pronounced. “I'm Heather. This is Scarlet, Amber, Violet and Rose.” They all finger waved with a well polished plasti-smile. It was instantly clear that these were not Tina's friends. They were her schoolmates and Donna – the bride's – friends.

I returned their reflex-smile. “Pleased to meet the whole spectrum.” I heard Tina stifle her snort. A momentary look of 'what just happened?' flashed in their faces as they caught Tina's stifled snort, then they dismissed and went on.

“So, you know Chris how? ….Are any of you related?”

They collectively snapped back as if I had tossed my drink on them. I was beginning to think of this collection of bridesmaids as a single thing... a hive mind... a multi-headed hydra. This amused me so much it was making this encounter almost enjoyable.

“GOD no!” Amber exclaimed so loudly that nearby heads turned. When they noticed where the sound was coming from, they went right back to ignoring us all. Rose cut in. “I see how you could think that....” she said as the others stared at her wondering how anyone could think that. “...we're all friends of the bride... most of the ushers were with her cousin Anthony's family.” The rest of the hydra looked at her, clearly processing this, which apparently hadn't even been noticed by them before, and gave a unitary nod.

“We all just went to school together.” Heather said icily. The hydra nodded.

“We were all catching up on what everybody's up to.” Scarlet said, then felt the need to bring me up to speed, holding out her stunningly manicured hand and counting off on fingers. “Rose is temping.”

I smiled and nodded.

“I'm going to school to be an aesthetician.”

“Cool.” I replied, wanting to seem supportive.

“Amber is working at shady oaks as assistant events coordinator.”

“Is that some kind of rest home?” I inquired innocently and was met with daggers by the hydra and a snort from Tina.

“It's only the most exclusive club in the county.” Amber spat.

“Her dad is on the board.” Scarlet replied helpfully, to Amber's glare.

“Cool.” I smiled, trying to look impressed and calm the hydra.

“....and Heatherrrrr.....” Scarlet proclaimed gesturing with her arms like a prize presenter on a game show “was about to tell Chris about her fabulous job when you ...uh...”

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted. But please go on. And Heatherrrr?” I said tilting my head and putting a crisp Kardashian fry on her name. I felt Tina poke me from behind.

“Heather is the new director of corporate sales for Sofa King.”

I had vocally backed myself into Kardashian corner, so I figured the quickest way out was the Hilton exit.

“That's HOT.” I gushed.

“Sofa King Hot!” Tina murmured. It was my turn to stifle a snort.

The hydra seemed oblivious.

“Well, it IS her father's company..” Scarlet began and was quickly cut off by Heather.

“Daddy was looking to open a corporate sales division to leverage the hospitality market, but could never find the right person to head it up, but it had been a dream of his for years. When I came on board, I convinced him I knew the market and landed the position.”

“She can land all the positions” Tina whispered in my ear. I kept the permasmile plastered. “And no one knows the hotels and motels around these parts better... and all the managers!” she continued to whisper. I fought down my smirk.

“What?” Heather said as the hydra glared at us.

“Ti... Chris was just informing me of the time. I'm her ride and she really wants to give her regards to the happy couple before we have to leave.” I lied. She nodded.

“It was really nice to meet you all.” I smiled. They reflexively smiled back like flight attendants rushing to diplomatically hurry the herd off the plane.

As we launched back into the crowd, Tina said “Thanks for the rescue. I don't know who was more thankful you got us away, me or....”

“..the Hydra?”

She stopped walking and stared at me. I simply shrugged. “I instantly got the impression I was dealing with something with one mind and five heads."

The grin erupted on Tina's face as she nodded her head vigorously. “Oh, girl.... I am SO using that.... and you're going to have to find a way to draw it!” she cackled.

While working our way back to our table we did in fact run into the 'happy couple' fending off well wishers. Only they didn't strike me as terribly happy. They seemed more overwhelmed.

“Hey, congratulations!” Tina leaned in for a requisite hug with her cousin and a much more ginger near-embrace with the bride. It was like the full body version of an air-kiss.

“All done.” Donna dripped with content.

“Bitchiotti” Tina shot back instantly with a head nod. Then she pulled back and got a thoughtful look. “Guess I can't call you that now that you're married.” Her cousin Tony looked at the two. He was not happy, but he didn't seem surprised either. “Don't worry, I'll come up with something” she smiled as the bride scowled.

“That was a beautiful dress!” Tina gushed. Donna began to relax slightly and as the proud smile began to form Tina continued “...you couldn't see a thing.” she gently touched Donna's belly. The bride jumped back as if Tina had poked her with a cattle prod, spun on her heels and stormed off into the crowd, arm stiff and straight over her head, a single manicured finger turned in our direction.

Tina chuckled. “You're going to have your hands full with that one.” she smiled to Tony.
“…..but she'll make a great mom..... she's like a lioness.”

Her cousin flashed a conflicted smile and ran his hand through his hair. “God, I hope so.”

“Oh, God. I'm so rude. Anthony Rossi.... this is my good friend and plus one Chloe Saville.”

I smiled politely and shook. God his hands were sweaty. I don't know if that was from running them through his hair or he did that to try and dry them. Whatever. It didn't work.

“So how do you know Chrissy.... Christina?” he corrected.

“We live together.” Tina said.

At her cousin's raised eyebrow I added. “With another girl in an awesome 3 bedroom house her dad arranged.”

His expression calmed. “Sounds like a sitcom setup.” he smiled.

“No wacky neighbors. ….that we know of.” Tina smiled.

“Or a horror movie....” he mused.

“No creepy neighbors.” I volunteered.

“THAT we know of....” Tina said with a raised finger and a wicked grin.

“...or maybe some other kind of movie....” Tony grinned “how well do you know the pizza guy?”

Tina gave him a playful – but strong – slap. “Get your mind out of the gutter you perv... you're a married man now. No more thinking about that!”

“Well, now only thinking.” I grinned. Tina and Tony both laughed.

“Still. Not about that. Not about US!” she warned Tony.

“Oh, GOD no!” he startled, clearly as creeped out by the thought as his cousin. That was a relief.

“So where you guys going on your honeymoon?”

Tony shrugged. “Nowhere yet. Donna's really been feeling.... well, she doesn't want to travel. She says we should wait till after.... till she's feeling like herself again.”

Tina and I both smiled politely and nodded. Something told me, and I knew she was thinking it too, these two aren't going to get to honeymoon until they're in their forties and their kids are on their own.

We made a little more smalltalk and turned him over to the next well wisher.

“Are we done here?” Tina asked.

“Are you asking ME? This is your thing.... your family.... are you done here?”

“So done here.” Tina grinned. “Just let me hit the ladies before we jet.”

“Good idea” I nodded.

It wasn't too crowded and Tina and I quickly finished our business. While touching up at the mirror, I noticed the last stall, which had been occupied when we arrived, was still shut. I got the feeling that something was up and tapped Tina on the shoulder, motioning to the closed stall. She quickly picked up on what I was thinking and slowly walked over to the door, stepping back and eyeing the shoes.

“Mom?” she asked hesitantly.

“....Chrissie? ….is that you?”

“....and my friend Chloe..... you remember? From the....”

She sniffed a laugh. “Hi Chloe.... oh God... this is so embarrassing....”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about mom.” Tina said gently. “...is everything OK?”

Another sniffed laugh erupted from within the stall. Tina rephrased the question.

“....are YOU OK?”

There was a stirring from the stall and the sound of flushing.

“GODDAMMIT! I hate these goddamned things!” her mothers voice echoed on the tile walls.

Tina shot me a shit-eating grin. “Yeah.... she's OK.”

The stall door opened and Tina's mom emerged with an expression that was equal parts mortification and pissed offed-ness. She was as angry as a cat in a car wash. She twisted around to try to catch a glimpse of her own backside, then moved to the mirror to see if that could work. Tina and I surveyed the damage.

“It's not really that bad.” Tina tried to cheer.

“It will probably dry quickly.” I volunteered.

Maria Aldone scowled at her reflection. “It will probably leave a stain or at least a ring.” Who thought putting those evil things on toilets was a good idea? Even if someone's too uncivilized to flush, the next one in can do it. We don't need ….machines!” she said through gritted teeth.

I smiled. “I always keep a small cloth pouch in my purse, I put it over those things like a knit cap and they behave until you take it off.”

Maria tilted her head and regarded me. She was beginning to calm. “Why didn't I think of that? That's very resourceful dear. What gave you the idea?”

I shrugged sheepishly, recalling the 'inspiration'. “...once burned....” I smiled.

“...or doused!” Tina laughed. Then she turned to her mom and looked mortified.

Maria laughed. “Lesson learned.” Then her expression got bitter again. “...this is just the cherry on the sundae...” she muttered. Turning to Tina she said “I was hiding from your aunts Vera and Sophia.”

Tina nodded solemnly. “Was it anything I....”

“Just the usual sweetie. Some things never change.” she said with a sigh “I just was really not in the mood for it today....”

Tina nodded then glanced my way. “We were about to sneak out. …..Wanna come?” she grinned.

Maria regarded us both for a moment, then her face erupted into the same grin I knew so well from Tina. “More than you know.”

We were in the car headed back to Tina's family home when she turned to me.

“You in any hurry to be somewhere?” she inquired with a smile.

I shook my head. “Probably should check into my B&B before they file a missing person report and sell my stuff on ebay.... but otherwise, no. What are you thinking?”

Tina glanced to her mom in the back seat. “Mom? Are you in a hurry to get home?”

It was clear from her mother's expression that she was most definitely NOT. She shook her head, holding eye contact with Tina.

“Chrissie?.....” Her mom asked, the slight curls of a smile beginning to form... “What ARE you thinking?”

Tina smiled wickedly. “Well, since we never get the chance.... how about a girl's day out?”

The smile erupted on Tina's mom Maria, accompanied by a vigorous nod.

I just laughed and held up a finger. “But NOT like our girl's night out yesterday!” I grinned then immediately clenched, catching Maria's querulous expression in the rear-view mirror. I instantly glanced to Tina in my mortified contrition. She just smiled, and twisting to her mom in the back seat, proceeded to give a – highly sanitized – but still mostly accurate recap of our previous night on the town. Including the run in with 'Carpenter Scott'.

Tina's mom seemed to be wrestling with amusement over Tina's retelling, which certainly was Moth-stage-worthy, and the notion that she should be the disapproving parental role model. She finally relaxed and mirth won out.

“Oh, Chrissy. I never knew you had a thing for that boy in high school.” She then paused a beat, and as I glanced at her in the mirror, it was clear she was choosing her next words carefully. “.....or any boy.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Remember what happened to the few boys I did bring home?”

Her mom's face betrayed a smirk, and she nodded slowly, the humor in her eyes unmaskable. “....but that was all when you were a freshman... you never brought a boy home since.”

Tina gave her mom a 'Duh' expression. “Any wonder WHY?”. She and her mom exchanged a look and Maria shook a contrite 'No'.

“I even tried NOT bringing them home!” apparently now that this vein was tapped, it was not going to stop until the pressure was released. “Daddy found out anyway, and ended up …..'bumping into them'... and scaring the hell out of them and I was alone again! Is it any wonder why Lauren and the gang were my only friends all through high school?” She was really agitated. I reached over and put a calming hand on her arm.

“I had to run away to college in another state before I could even go out with a boy without Daddy throwing me into protective custody!”

Maria's brow furrowed. She quietly said “Honey. You know he was only looking out for you.” But her tone of voice made it clear she was echoing the 'company line' and probably thought Ken had overstepped as well.

“Well, it's good to know you like boys.” she soothed. Then upon hearing her own words, looked like she desperately wanted to take them back and rephrase.

Tina just laughed. “Always did. And now they're free to like me back!”

“Except Carpenter Scott.” I couldn't resist butting in.

Tina put on a mock pout and her mother actually laughed out loud! I had never seen her so relaxed.

“Oh, God. Your father.... if you brought home.....” she struggled to find mom-appropriate words.

I could say what she felt she couldn't. So I did. “A stripper.”

Tina glared daggers at me. Her mom just went red and snickered.

“OK. OK!” I laughed, walking it back a bit. “An exotic dancer.... a carnal cabaret performer... an erotic..”

Tina slapped my arm HARD. Her exaggerated disapproval an obvious mask over her own amusement.

“Enough! He was..... is...... a skilled tradesman.” She lost her battle to hide her own smirk.

“....well, at least he has a trade....” her mom said primly from the back seat.

Tina and I erupted. “And half of Greenville can attest to his skill.” I snickered.

OK. Whatever icy distance or role-appropriate posturing there was between Tina and her mom... it was utterly dispelled. We were just three silly people, in relaxed company, headed.....

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked.

“Greenville?” Tina suggested. Her mom shrugged 'sure'. And Tina shot me a smile. “I want to meet this hunky B&B guy you've been telling me about.”

“I did NOT call him 'hunky'!” I protested. Tina simply smiled wickedly. “Didn't have to.”

I scowled. I did not call Charles 'hunky' and I never implied that he was. Still.... from a certain perspective, he was. He could be a cover model on a mountaineering magazine or an R.E.I. ad. I ground my teeth and shot Tina an annoyed look. She beamed back. “OK. It's settled. We're seeing Chloe's fabulous B&B and doing Greenville!”

“NOT like last night!” I smiled with an upraised finger.

“NOTHING like last night!” Tina laughed.

From the backseat, Tina's mom smiled, seemingly up for anything, but mostly I suspected, relieved to be away from that reception hall filled with her in-laws.

When we arrived at my B&B, Charles was delighted to see us. He truly was an avid people person and quickly got Tina and her mom into a rapt conversation.

“Enough about my world travels. I'm bored listening to my same old stories. I want to know about you. How did you and Christina's dad meet?” Charles inquired with a smile. As Maria gathered her thoughts to answer, it was clear from her expression that even Tina didn't know this tale.

“I was in Rome with my family, taking a year between high school and college. My father was an executive with SDS data systems and overseeing the installation of a new mainframe at Banca D'Italia and the training of the local I.T. staff. Mom & I were along because he knew it would be a long project and held out for his family to accompany him on this project. Mom & I were both excited. She had never been to Rome and I had never been....anywhere. I made some friends. Mostly ex-pats.... diplomat's kids and other outsiders.... but also a few bored locals who took to strangers as the next best thing to being able to afford to travel themselves.

I was with some girlfriends on a weekend trek to Naples. We wanted to see Pompei and see if all the stories we heard about Salerno were true. We met some boys. Some local boys.... or so we thought. We tried to convince them that we were all from Rome. ….well we were but we tried to convince them that we were all Rome natives. Lucia and Gia were, of course but Sofia was Serbian, Mona was Irish, and I was just a girl from Brazil.”

Upon Charles' raised eyebrow Maria let out a nervous giggle. “Oh, God no. Not Brazil the country! ….Brazil Indiana! Couldn't be less like Brazil the country.” She paused a moment as if it was the first time the thought occurred to her “yet my family is Portuguese ...and we settled in Brazil.” She barked a laugh. “Obviously the wrong Brazil!”

I caught Tina's rapt attention on every word her mom said. This was obviously the first time she heard any of it. Thank you Charles.

Tina's mom took a moment and composed herself. “So.... we convinced these boys we were all Italian.... which should have spilled to us that they obviously were NOT because they should have seen right through our stories.” She smiled to herself. “Obviously neither of us saw through the others bluff.”

Maria smiled wickedly. “I still remember...... They were Don – Donatello. Leo – Leonardo. Mike – Michalengelo. And Rafe – Raphael.”

I snerked. Maria caught it and nodded with a wicked smile. Charles caught it too and shared a wicked grin with me.

“Turtles all the way down.” I grinned. Maria nodded with a wicked smile.

“Not quite all the way!” She grinned. “The boy I fell for instantly was Rudy.” She cocked her head and shot me a “get it?” glare.

I just returned a puzzled look. Like Tina. Though something told me Charles had an inkling.

“Rudolpho.” She smiled at me. I continued returning a bewildered glare. “...Laspari....”

Charles snickered. Something was tickling my brain. Tina's mom was generous. She gave me time to get it.

“The greatest tenor since Caruso.” I grinned. She blushed.

“I had no idea.” She smiled. I nodded with a grin. Obviously she was not raised by a TV showing old Marx Brothers movies. Thanks mom & dad.

“So we all convinced these 'local boys' that we were sophisticated city girls from Rome come down to explore the ruins of Pompeii..... and take in ….the local culture” she grinned wickedly.

Charles clucked a smile and I caught Tina's disbelieving stare out of the corner of my eye.

Maria laughed. “Eventually it all fell apart.... I don't recall who broke first.... but we all kind of twigged that everyone was full of bluster... and we were too.... and started telling our real truths..... They were all American G.I.s on leave and ….trying to fit in....” she grinned. “We laughed at the fact that we all tried to bluff each other. Turns out we were all OK with the actual truth. ….well, no surprise that Rudolpho was actually another American... a boy from Delaware named Ken. Ken Aldone. He accompanied his friends down from Ramstein because they were his friends.... and for adventure.... but mostly because he wanted to explore his 'ancestral home'. Even when I told him my real name, he assumed I was Italian.... and I didn't correct him.” she grimaced.

“We kind of hit it off and exchanged contact info. We became pen pals for a few years. At some point my Dad located to St Louis. Ken wrote and mentioned that he was currently stationed in Kansas. Things got pretty heavy pretty fast, and soon enough we were married with a baby on the way.” she smiled. “....Sal.”

My mind instantly turned to Tony & Donna at the wedding and I just as quickly shoved those thoughts aside.

“So I was suddenly an army wife with a growing brood traveling the world....” the sense of ….the overwhelming nature of this realization swept across her face. “.....eventually Ken retired. Did his 20. Took his pension and we planted roots. ….Here....” she said with what I took as ambivalence.

Charles smiled. I stole a glance at Tina. It was as if she never even knew her mom. She was processing it all.

“...And how do you all know....” Charles shot me a glance.

Tina smiled. “Chloe and I met at a really lame club. She rescued me after a drunken jock on the make barfed all over me. She loaned me her jacket and instantly became my friend for life!”

Tina's mom raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She simply smiled and nodded. Something told me she was not unaware of similar situations.

“My cousin was getting married and Chloe offered to drive me home. She's never been here before and figured she'd do Greenville while I did family stuff.”

“And thanks to Charles, I did get to do Greenville. The cream of Greenville – thanks to a great list by a discerning curator!” I grinned. Charles blushed.

“But I do have to take you to task over one thing.” I smiled. Charles gave me a puzzled look.

“The 'Gone in 60 nanoseconds' collection at BeauxArtes?” I scowled. He shot me a concerned look.

“Who on earth is this Bernard guy?” I grinned.

Charles blushed. “Did he give you a hard time? Accuse you of loitering? Demand that you leave?” Obviously he was well aware of Bernard's …..people skills.

I smiled. “Not quite. He merely accused me of attempting to 'steal' artwork to my iPhone.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Please let me apologize on his behalf. He..”

“No need.” I grinned and thumbed through my phone, finding and displaying the photo of the descriptor/pricetag. “I WAS taking a photo. But only of the price tag. Not the print.”

Charles flashed an apologetic smile.

“No real need to snap the print, since the original's still sitting on my hard drive.” I smiled.

As expected, Charles shot me a look of incomprehension.

“It was a collectible print from Plague Diaries.” I smiled and nodded to Tina. “My housemates saga.”

Tina blushed. Her mom just gave her a look. A 'what's going on here?' look.

“She wrote it as an anthology.... then I got the crazy notion to turn it into a graphic novel..... mostly because I was captivated by it and wanted in... but I'm no storyteller... just an art school grad. So she let me do the graphics.”

Charles just stared. Processing. He reached into his pocket and snatched his smartphone. After a few minutes poking, he returned his eyes to us.

I smiled and gestured to Tina. “Tina Aldone. T.Aldone.” And as I had done on the back of Bernard's business card, I fished for my gel pen and scrawled my 'glyph' on the back of a scrap of paper.

“Saville. Chloe Saville.” I said in my best – but still utterly lame – Sean Connery as I traced the letters on the glyph with the tip of my pen.

Charles just stared at us. As did Tina's mom.

“Are you famous?” She asked quietly.

“In some circles” Tina replied even more quietly while Charles simultaneously muttered “Not yet.”

They exchanged glances. Tina nodded to Charles. He went first.

“It's still very niche. Very avant garde. But the buzz is growing. It's searing and unforgettable, and slowly people are beginning to take notice. It's poised to become really big.” He said with what seemed like a touch of reverence, shooting skeptical glances to Tina and me.

“Oh God no.” Tina laughed. “It was never intended to be something BIG.... it was just an itch that I needed to scratch..... and then Chloe read it and came to me with these ….sketches.... and it became more. Still.... it's just.... scratching an itch.... not much more than a hobby....”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “It's much more than that to the people who have been sucked into its world. It's a parable. A paradigm. A different way of seeing the world. It's changing your readers view of reality.”

I saw Tina blanche. “Oh God. I just wanted to tell a good story..... I never intended to..”

Charles smiled. “Funny thing about art. Doesn't much matter what the creator intended. The ultimate value depends on the one who consumes it.”

Tina blanched and raised a finger to make a rebuttal.

I cut her off with a (forced) carefree laugh. “Whoa. We didn't come here to get all heavy and navel gaze-y. We came here to escape the family minefield that is the wedding reception.” I turned to Charles with a forced smile and a 'help-me-out-here' look in my eyes. I could tell instantly he read me right. “What's good to do for three ladies looking to 'do the town'?”

~~~

Beau's was just as Suzie described it. It was like walking into the set of a 'Farmers Only' dating app commercial.

Tina's mom lit up. “Oooh. Look at how fancy everything is!” she beamed. Then she glanced at all the guys scoping us out. “Oh.” she gasped somewhat under her breath.

Tina and I exchanged a glance. ...and a smile.

Charles shot Maria a glance. “I take it you approve?” he grinned.

Tina's mom blushed slightly. “Everyone seems.... it seems very nice.”. I think she was going for an 'approving mom' delivery, but none of us were buying it.

I smiled to Tina. “Tell your friends they were right about Beaus.”

Maria turned to me. “What did Chrissy's friends say?”

I glanced to Tina then back at her mom. “Just that I needed to check it out when I explored Greenville. I guess they agree with you.” I smiled.

She returned an uncertain smile. I don't think Tina's mom was comfortable sharing an opinion with her daughter's notoriously rowdy friends.

Charles rescued us from this uncomfortable moment.

“We didn't come here to chatter. Let's DANCE.” He beamed and grabbed Maria's hand.

Tina and I exchanged grins.

I'm not really a big dancer. I'm usually too self-conscious. And being dressed like a second grade teacher from 1972 out on the floor with everyone else in their denim minis or super tight jeans and cowboy boots didn't help. Still, the fact that line dancing was more like the chicken dance we did at the reception than the dirty dancing I did last night with that guy Geo at the club helped calm my nerves. All I really had to do, I told myself, was match and mirror... a talent I mastered early in my life, for survival.

No one shot terribly scornful glances as the two girls who looked like they escaped from an abstinence meeting took to the floor. Tina didn't seem to care what any of these strangers thought, but for some reason it still mattered to me. I got over it quickly as the crowd courteously made room for us on the dance floor. I had never line danced before so I just mirrored Tina like the clone brush on my paint program. No one seemed to notice and I soon relaxed. Tina really seemed to be enjoying herself. Then I caught her eyeline and understood why. She was looking at her mom, about six ahead and a row over, laughing and dancing and occasionally ducking in to exchange a word with Charles. Her body language was more relaxed than I'd ever seen it, and she looked a decade younger.... carefree and letting her hair down for a night on the town.

Tina caught my glance and flashed me a grin. She seemed to be enjoying her mom's 'girls day out' as much as Maria.

Break

We eventually took a break and went back to our table. ...when we immediately were accosted by two guys.

“Hey ladies. Here alone?” Guy in a foam trucker cap asked.

I glared at him as Tina shook 'No'.

“We're here with my....” she suddenly faltered, realizing she had just built herself a semantic plank to walk.

I nodded to the dancefloor. “Maria. In the salmon chemise with the ecru....” They stared at me as if I was speaking Klingon. “Pink top. Brown skirt. With the guy in the sweater” I dumbed down.

They nodded.

“Your older sister?” foam cap guy asked Tina.

She gave a slight nod and a smile. Sister. That would work.

“She's showing us the highlights of Greenville” I smiled/lied.

Tina quickly got on my wavelength. WE were the tourists, being shown the town by the 'older sister'. She grinned enthusiastically.

“Well, you've come to the right place.” Flannel shirt guy said.

“Right place for what exactly?” I raised an eyebrow cracking a wry smile.

I guess he didn't expect the question. He looked lost. Then foam cap guy rescued him.

“Good music. Good dancing. Good people.” He grinned.

I just stared back at him until he realized his oversight.

“I'm Joe by the way. Joe Blake. And this is my buddy Glenn.”

“Glenn Davis.” flannel shirt guy leaned in and awkwardly offered his hand.

Tina reached out to take it and introduce herself, but I cut her off.

“Janet.” I smiled. “Janet Wilson.” I tried to choose a name that seemed as bland as my outfit. Tina shot me a glance and a quick smile. She was on my wavelength.

“Lisa.” she smiled as she took the guys hand. “Lisa Vaughn.”

OK this would work. Foam cap guy and flannel shirt guy could comb the earth looking for Janet and Lisa and we'd still be safe.

“Pleased to meet you ladies.” Joe said. At least he had the good manners to tip his foam cap. His pal smiled and nodded. “Can we buy you a drink?”

Tina shot me a look. I smiled and said “That's very generous. A lemonade if they have it. ….or maybe a pop? Something without caffeine?”

Tina butted in. “A sprite or something maybe?....”

“We're about to leave on a mission and ….Mary...” I nodded my head in the direction of Maria still tearing up the floor with Charles. “...wanted to leave us with good memories before we began our obligations.” I smiled.

The two guys shot each other a glance. I think they noticed the two cute girls alone so they came over, but now they were looking at our ….conservative.... outfits and realizing this was not going to go remotely they way they expected when they approached us. Still, they were gentlemen about it.

“Certainly ladies.” Glenn said politely – if not enthusiastically. “No alcohol. No caffeine. Are you Mor.... um LDS?”.

This guy was good.

I shook my head “Heavens NO!”. I exclaimed and gave him nothing more.

Tina shot me a glance with a gleam in her eye. She was enjoying this.

Joe looked at Glenn and shrugged. Glenn went on. “Adventist?”

Scowl.

“Jehovas Witnesses?” He tool another stab.

I shot Tina a scowl. “Coming here may have been a mistake.”

She shrugged. “We didn't have much choice. Mary's guests. Mary's choice. ….she meant well.”

I shrugged back and turned to the guys. “It's not important. Thanks for the beverages. Are you going to ask us to dance next?”

They looked at each other. It was clear both were lost. I could tell Tina was enjoying this as much as I was.

“Um.... do you... can you... I mean are you allowed to dance?” Foam cap guy asked.

“Are you asking?” Tina raised an eyebrow.

The two guys gave very conflicted, less than enthusiastic nods.

“Well let's find out if we can dance.” I smiled and grabbed bewildered flannel shirt guy by the hand, leading him to the dance floor followed closely by Tina and foam hat guy.

They were clearly caught off guard. This was not going anywhere near the way they expected when they approached us. We had somehow taken control of the encounter and were leading the interaction. Their confusion tickled me, and I got the sense Tina was feeling the same way.

We moved onto the dancefloor and sidled next to Maria and Charles.

“Hey you two!” She beamed. “About time you joined us.” She raised an eyebrow and addressed Tina “who are your friends?”

Tina grinned. “Joe.” Foam hat guy tipped his truckers cap again. “...and his friend Glenn.” she nodded to me and my dance partner. Flannel shirt guy gave a polite micro-bow.

“Did we mention that we never line danced before?” I leaned in and whispered to Glenn.

He seemed unfazed. “No problem. Just watch and copy.” he smiled graciously. He nodded to Joe and Tina who already seemed to be in a groove.

I smiled back politely. I had been matching and mirroring most of my life. I could do this in my sleep. But he didn't have to know that. I deliberately messed up a little to seem like a beginner.

Glenn got a little 'handsy' putting his hands on my waist and 'directing' me to follow the moves. I didn't take it as copping a feel. He seemed to genuinely be trying to correct my (deliberate) mistakes. I shot him a glare as he ….maneuvered... me. His contrite look and instant removal of his hands put me at ease. He really wasn't trying to pull a move. He just inadvertently crossed a line and, catching it, instantly withdrew. I smiled to reassure him there were no hard feelings and fell into the move as if his direction was what 'corrected' my technique. Really just dropped the beginner mistakes to prevent him from physically ...correcting... me again.

We danced to a few songs before Charles & Maria dropped out, giving us a wave as they made for their table. Tina and I exchanged a glance. These guys were pleasant enough dance partners, but we didn't really want to hang out with them. This was about Tina taking her mom out for a day on the town, not about us flirting with boys. After a few minutes, I glanced in the direction of Maria and Charles then motioned to Tina, who seemed ready to end things too. I leaned in to Glenn and said “Thanks for the dance. It looks like Mary and Reverend Ricky want a word with us.”
Before he could respond I darted in and gave a quick cheek peck – actually it was more like a lip-bump to his cheek. I reached over to Tina and gave her a 'ready?' look. She scowled, and turned to Joe with an apologetic shrug while I grabbed her hand and yanked her off the dance floor.
“Smooth move.” she leaned in to my ear as we made our way back to the table. “What did you tell them?”
I smiled. “I just said it looked like Mary and Reverend Ricky wanted a word with us.”
Tina snorted. “Reverend Ricky?”
Well it wouldn't do for a righteous lady like Mary to be carrying on with a heathen.” I grinned.
Tina laughed. “I want to see you explain all this to Charles and my mom before those two tomcats follow us to our table.”

Charles and Maria took it as well as I'd hoped when I explained our cover story and their aliases. I didn't really expect Glenn and Joe to come after us, and they didn't. Still, I figured briefing everyone on the ruse was the prudent thing to do. Charles and Tina's mom were as amused as I'd expected.

“Where in the world did you come up with a crazy story like that?” Charles chortled.

Tina and I exchanged glances. “It just seemed to fit our outfits and to signal from the start that it wasn't even worth dipping their hook in the water” I smiled.

Charles grinned with a nod as Maria laughed. “Oh God, you're wicked! Once Ken gets to know you, he's going to adore you!”

Charles shot a perplexed look between Maria Tina and me.

“Rudolfo” I started to say as Maria said “My husband” and Tina blurted “My dad.”

Even through that verbal collision, Charles got the message and smiled with a nod as a waitress arrived with a tray full of appetizers.

“We ordered while you were still dancing.” Maria explained.

“We didn't know what you wanted, so we got a little of everything.” Charles smiled.

“Chrissy's never been a picky eater, so I know these are good choices, and I hope there's something here you like dear.” Tina's mom smiled to me. I returned her smile.

“I like to think I'm easy to please. It all looks delicious.” I smiled back. Then out of the corner of my eye I noticed Charles rolling up his sleeves. I quirked an eyebrow.

“In case your eager suitors are still looking, I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep up appearances.” he whispered.

I bit back my grin as he made an elaborate pantomime of shaking the bottle of cider vinegar over our french fries and seeming to bless the food while the three of us bowed our heads behind clasped hands. The easier to hide our snickers.

When Charles took a deep fried pickle chip and raised it up over his head I gave him a kick under the table. He quickly brought his arms back down and shot me a guilty smile.

“Thank God this isn't a kosher meal because we have a big ham at the table.” I grumbled with my head down. And felt Charles' foot return my gentle kick.

Once the theatrical saying of grace was finished, we started passing around appetizer plates in a round robin. I saw Tina blanche at the plate of fully loaded nachos and snerked. Tina's mom caught this.

“Chrissy? What's wrong? You always loved nachos?”

At which point Tina decided to tell the full story of how we met, avoiding just enough graphic detail to not ruin our appetites. Still, that plate of nachos remained pretty much untouched for the rest of our stay at Beaus.

“Chrissy? What's wrong? You always loved nachos?”

At which point Tina decided to tell the full story of how we met, avoiding just enough graphic detail to not ruin our appetites. Still, that plate of nachos remained pretty much untouched for the rest of our stay at Beaus.

We eventually made our way back to my little Hyundai & squeezed everyone in, when Charles tapped my shoulder from the back seat.

“Could I trouble you to make a little detour?”

I reflexively nodded. “Sure. Where to?”

He shot Tina & her mom a wicked grin.

We had no trouble parking practically in front of the Beaux Artes gallery, because at this time of evening on a weekend most of the little mom & pop merchants were closed and off enjoying their weekend.

Charles motioned for us all to follow him as he walked up to the front door of the gallery, and, pulling a keyring from his pocket, proceeded to let us into the closed gallery, quickly keying in the alarm code and hitting the lights with one hand while pulling out & dialing his mobile phone with the other.

“Hey. It's me. Yeah, I stopped by the gallery because I had some ideas on presentation and arrangement I wanted to try out. So, yeah when the alarm folks call, tell them it's cool. OK. Ciao.” he shoved his phone back into his pocket as he keyed a sequence into the alarm keypad on the wall.

“Bernard?” I quirked an eyebrow at Charles. He smiled & nodded.

“We're lucky to have him. He has no life outside the gallery, so 24/7 when the alarm company calls him, he's here in under 20.” Charles smiled ambivalently.

“...still.... we don't want him crashing in while I'm escorting my special guests on a private tour” he smiled and gave Tina's mom a playful nudge.

He walked us through the gallery giving us a captivating recollection of how he came to be one of the directors.... initially expecting to be no more than an enthusiastic fan.

“They're lucky to have you” I smiled. “You have exquisite taste and an eye for the next big thing” I said waving my arm across the spectacular presentations adorning the walls. “....with only the occasional lapse in judgement” I smiled as I walked up to our P.D. print.

Tina's eyes went wide seeing this all-too-familiar image hanging on the wall next to the stunning pieces that took our collective breath away.

Her mom stared for a moment, then leaned in to read the description card – and stare at the price tag.

“This is YOURS?” Maria asked Tina, the awe in her voice unmistakable.

Tina shrugged. “Chloe's actually. She's the artist.” and she shot me a self conscious grin.

“Oh please. I just give form to Christina's vision.... her prose is so striking....”

Charles cleared his throat and gave Tina and me a chiding scowl. “It's a collaboration.... an artistic ….synergy.... the whole vastly exceeds the sum of its parts.... both of which are staggering in their own rights. It's gained a massive following...”

“Cult following....” I corrected with raised finger as Tina nodded.

“Initially.” Charles shot back. “But not for long.... word IS getting out... and soon it will be as mainstream as a Marvel property.” he smiled.

I caught the look in Tina's eyes. The dawning realization that maybe she had set in motion something that was about to overwhelm and devour her. I had to calm her down.

“We'll see about that.” I cynically said to Charles. Tina began to calm.

“Yes, we WILL...” Charles smiled back as Tina's growing calm evaporated again.

Meanwhile, Tina's mom was just staring at us wide-eyed. Her pupils following our conversation as if it were a tennis match.

“Anyone up for a nightcap?” I asked desperately hoping to change the subject.

“It's barely after dusk....” Charles started to say before I derailed him with my glare.

“....I have just the place.” He smiled conciliatorially to me.

It was a delightful cappucino bar, Even Tina's mom approved, and I figured she was a tough sell.

“People slag Greenville as a one-note boring backwater.” Charles grinned. “They should be bright enough to see that there's more to it than the most popular Yelp review.”

I raised my coffee cup in a mock toast. “To the best kept secret in these parts.” I grinned.

Charles ambivalently returned my toast. “Still, I wish the puzzle was easier to solve.... sure it's great that discerning tourists get it...” He mock toasted us. “But this city and the amazing people in it deserve broader recognition.”

I elbowed Charles, recalling my talk with Bo & Lisa the day before. “We need to chat about that.” I whispered with a grin.

Tina's mom smiled and lifted her mug. “To line dancing AND ephemeral arts.”

Charles chuckled. “I guess we're big enough to envelope both.”

We finished our dessert coffees and I dropped Charles off before bringing Tina and her mom home.

I queried Tina quietly. “Are you going to get in any trouble for.....”

“Going AWOL?” Tina smirked at her mom, who scowled.

Her mom shook her head. “No.... nah... not likely.... in fact they're probably relieved that they don't have to deal with me....”

Tina grimaced. “You have every right to be there. You're family.”

Her mom flashed a bitter smile. “Not blood. Just marriage.”

Tina grinned. “That may be a good thing.... aunts Vera and Sophia would be even harder to get away from if you were blood.”

Tina's mom barked a bitter laugh. “Good point!” She got quiet again. “I don't think the boys will be home till late...” she smirked “....and your dad....” she looked at Tina.

“If anyone gets it Daddy does. Just tell him you ran away with me and Chloe.” Tina smiled warmly.

There was ...a moment... between her mom and Tina. Maria gazed at her daughter with the warmest smile.

“As usual.... you're right.” she beamed.

I dropped Tina and her mom home and begged out of coming in. I think we all were done with this day, each for our own reasons, so there wasn't too much pressure. As I headed back to Greenville, I had a thought. An inappropriate thought. 'Better act on it before reason kicks in' I thought. I picked up the phone and called Charles.

“Hey Charles... it's Chloe.... I know this is utterly random and I'm asking you upfront NOT to overthink this.... or even think of it at ALL....” I blushed to myself. “....I don't expect you to know this.... but I don't know who else to ask.... and you seem to know everything and everyone in Greenville.....” I tamped down my embarrassment and soldiered on “.....the other night.... um... last night..... my friend Tina's friends took us to..... I guess you would call it an all-male review.... in the middle of nowhere....”

Charles chuckled into the phone and I could picture his eyebrow raising. “So THAT'S why you didn't return last night....”

“I plead the fifth!” I interrupted with a laugh, trying to keep it light.

“And you already want to go BACK?” His tone was amused yet vaguely lascivious.

“It's NOT what you think!” I vainly protested “....I.... have some, um... unfinished business.....” my discomfort was interrupted by a thought “....IF you can even help me find the place again.... Tina's friend Lauren drove and I..... wasn't paying attention to the route....”

“I'll bet you weren't” I could hear his lewd grin through the phone.

“....so.... do you have any idea what I'm talking about and where....”

“Sounds like Dante's.... in the old stockyard district... middle of nowhere, right?”

I nodded, then caught myself. “Um, yeah.... lots of industrial buildings...”

“But no neighbors to disturb?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah.” I replied in a small voice.

“Exit 34 off the interstate. Follow the signs for the recycling center.... then drive about a half mile beyond the turnoff for the landfill... you'll see a large industrial park on your left. I imagine Dante's will be the only lit structure this time of night. By the way... I think they have different theme nights.... it may not be... what you remember....” I could hear the grin in his voice.

“I don't remember much.” I reflexively responded and heard his snort. I flinched.

“....well... I just wanted to warn you.... different nights... different themes.” Charles said quietly.

“Thanks for the heads up. I just have to do a quick errand.”

“Oh?”

“I'll explain later.” I said as I saw exit 34 approaching.

“Yes you WILL. That's the price for using me as your personal GPS.” Charles laughed.

“OK. Gotta go. Thanks for the help!” I blurted and ended the call as I made for exit 34.

As I pulled off the highway I recalled Charles description of the area and thought to myself 'anyone who accidentally took this exit at this time of night would immediately turn around and high-tail it back to civilization'. Bleak and ominous doesn't begin to describe it. This seemed like an area where after dark nothing good or respectable happens. Then I shook my head with a guilty smirk as fleeting glimpses of the previous night tickled my brain. Charles was right. Dante's, while still quite discreetly lit, was the only sign of life in this industrial park.

I noticed the cars parked in the lot were quite different from what I remembered from the night before. No Beetles or Nissans or any of the makes cluttering every suburban mall. There were vans and crazy stretch limos, some of those airport shuttle type vehicles in stealth-black onyx outfitted with reflecting windows, which I guess would better be described as a 'party bus'. OK. Different night. Different crowd.

I made my way around back and looked for an employee entrance. The low pressure sodium vapor light cast the world in an other-worldly sepia. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was Dorothy, about to open the world and get her first eyeful of Oz. I made my way to the back door and looked for a bell. I finally settled for pounding on the metal door, which was quickly opened my a mountain of a man, intimidating but not threatening. He just seemed like a fearsome ogre protecting something of value.

“Entrance is around front.” He immediately said upon seeing me.

I smiled as obsequiously as I could and said. “Hi. No. I'm trying to find one of your ….staff.” I began to wilt as I heard how lame and vaguely stalker-ish that sounded.

He began to fold his arms and put on his well-practiced condescending gaze when I continued.

“.....Scott Miller? …. he was working last night?”

He regarded me for a moment. “No crew from last night is here. This is fetish night.”

I nodded as if what he said made perfect sense.

“OK. I didn't really expect he'd be here.... I just need to get in touch.... it's ….um... well I didn't realize he worked here. I only knew him from high school and had lost touch” I lied, presenting Tina's truth as my own for simplicity's sake.

“I just wanted to get back in touch...” I said as I distractedly fished into my bag and pulled out a small notepad and pen, quickly jotting 'Call me when you can. Christina Aldone's housemate Chloe.' and scrawled my mobile number.

Can you see that he gets this? I asked while I nervously folded the paper and wrote Scott's name – and his stage name in parentheses – on the outside.

He reluctantly took it. “No guarantees.” he said sternly.

I didn't know if he meant no guarantees Scott would get it, would answer it, or that the guy would even try to pass it along. I just flashed a sad smile.

“It's a hail-mary play, but it's worth a try. This is the closest I've come since we lost touch after school.”

The guy conceded a grin. Maybe using the sports metaphor scored me a point or two.

He shrugged, but actually wished me luck before turning back and closing the heavy steel door behind him.

On the drive back to my B&B I tried to convince myself that I had done the right thing.

Charles was waiting up when I arrived home. His mother had already retired, he clearly was waiting for me. I felt a pang, imagining myself in high school, if things had been different, arriving home after a date, lingering at the front door and finally slipping through to find parents awaiting a debriefing. I quickly brushed that thought from my brain and got back to the matter at hand.

I explained, perhaps in more detail than absolutely necessary, my 'girls night out' with Tina and her friends, to Charles' lurid delight. The bitchier the detail, the more he seemed to relish it, chuckling and shaking his head with a wicked smile. I took the tale as far as this morning, Tina's recap of what I missed 'while I was out' and her confession about Scott.... and how I ended up being drafted as her Plus-One at the wedding.

Charles' face melted into a warm gaze at that point, so I added the addendum explaining my errand this evening and asked him if he thought I did the right thing.

He kneaded his chin for a long while. He was seriously processing this question, and whatever his final opinion, I knew I would be grateful for the thought he put behind it.

“Too soon to tell.” He finally said, to my chagrin. I was hoping for a thumbs up, braced for a thumbs down, but unprepared for such an ambivalent response. “Your brash, meddlesome move could end up being the spark that finally kindles the relation that smouldered for years but never found its igniter.”

I smiled, buoyed by the thought. Then he continued.

“Or you could just have reopened and old wound. Brought up unrequited passions that finally faded to a vague background ache with the passage of time, but are now just as inflamed, and impossible to act on as they ever were.”

I scowled. “But Tina knows and doesn't seem to care. The warmth when she talked about Scott indicated she still has feelings.” Then I preempted my own rationalization. “Then again, the awkwardness when she described the moment they recognized each other.... I'm certain it's not disapproval.... but yeah, it's an awkward thing that they will have to work around..... But I have no doubt they can. ….the way she talked about him.....”

“Well, maybe they will be able to get around his ...choice of career... You did say you gave him your number, NOT Christina's, right? That way you can sound him out and see if it's even worth sounding her out.....”

I nodded, relieved that Charles approved of at least something I did.

“Well, you already tossed the match.... only time will tell if old embers ignite.” He smiled. “It's past my bedtime, so if you'll excuse me milady....”

I smiled and grasped his hand. “Thanks for staying up and giving me an ear to bend. I really hope I did the right thing.”

“The pleasure was mine. I hope so too.” And he rose, heading upstairs singing quietly 'matchmaker matchmaker make me a match....'

I looked around for a pillow to throw, and finding nothing, resigned myself to bed. Tina and I had another long drive in the morning.

~

I woke early to the sweet aroma of bacon and coffee downstairs. This time I didn't deny Charles' tasty temptation. As I explained to him with a smile, so many taboos were shattered this weekend that a slice or two of bacon and a buttery biscuit and gravy were the least I would have to atone for.

I profusely thanked Charles and his mom for their hospitality and everything over and above that made my Greenville experience such a memorable occasion. They both thanked me for being such a delightful guest and urged me to come back soon, which I sorely hoped I could. I replied that if they ever found themselves in my neck of the woods, they'd have to let me return the favor and show them around my town.

Mrs Claypoole reflexively assured me that they would, but I knew she was just being polite and had NO intention of traveling nearly that far. She had everything she needed or wanted just outside her front door and we both knew it. Charles, on the other hand got a ….look.... on his face, and I suspected someday when his wanderlust returned I just may hear from him.

After saying my goodbyes to the Claypooles, I swooped by the Aldone homestead to pick up Tina. I thought it would be a quick duck in, pleasantries and swiftly on the road.

Tina's mom had a big breakfast waiting for me. ...my second breakfast in as many hours... but I knew it was her 'thank you' for rescuing her from the in-laws at the wedding reception and our little 'girls night out'. So there was no way I could politely demur.

So while I sat at the table, wondering if I could maneuver my top and hoodie to cover an undone button on the waist of my jeans if it came to that, I smiled big and politely dug into this Aldone family breakfast.

Tina, Frank, Sal & Maria all kept the table talk light and breezy. Ken's tone was quite a bit more …focused.

“YOU Miss Saville.... are quite the enigma....”

“How so?” I asked, really not wanting the answer.

“It seems like you didn't even exist 5 years ago.” Ken said with a grin.

I forced a laugh and hoped it came out light. “Oh, I assure you.... I existed... my entire life.”

Ken regrouped. “Let me rephrase that. You have no online presence.... no social media or anything more than 5 years old.... and even much of that is....”

“...pretty barren, right?” I grinned. I had to appear breezy if I was going to sell my firewall to Tina's dad.

“Yeah. When I finally got online, I planted my flag on as many hills as I could.... mostly so no one else could claim it and pretend to be me.... I had that happen to some friends and swore I would NOT let that happen to me..... but yeah.... Facebook, Twitter, SnapChat, Instagram.... I claimed my name everyplace I could.... even if I quickly determined that it was a haven for trolls and deliberately neglected it.”

“Yet no AOL, Geocities, My Space, Friendster.... nothing older than 5 years.” Ken seemed skeptical.

I scowled. “I couldn't really start an online presence until I left home.... my parents were...” I seemed to squelch a grimace “...my parents were definitely not the social media types....”

Ken raised an eyebrow. I began to think I was going to be able to sell my cover story.

“They're kind of under-the-radar folks..... others might say paranoid.... but they're my parents and they raised me and I love them unconditionally.... so I'll just say they were... more wary than most... they were not big fans of 'the system'” I said making air-quotes with my fingers.

Ken just sat and waited ….so I would've had to expound even if I hadn't planned to.

“Both their parents were anti-war protesters back in the day, and I think that changed the way they viewed the world.”

As expected, that instantly grabbed the attention of everyone around the table of this ex-military family.

“They saw friends of their folks come back from the front and saw the damage.... and saw the way the system treated them when their service was through and they were now just burdens on the systems.... how they were made to feel guilty and greedy for seeking assistance fixing the damage they endured.... Their parents raised them on stories of friends in the movement who turned out to be government plants, deliberately trying to stir things up and agitate people into committing arrestable offenses.... how at some point they became so jaded they just dropped out and joined a commune where my parents grew up.... and when that fell apart, they just stayed underground on their own.... or as they would say 'off the grid'.”

“I had no idea growing up that we were 'off the grid'. I was home schooled, but I presumed everyone was. My folks would take me to be tested and chat with some curious people who would grill me on my education and ask too many questions about my home life. I had no idea what they were doing, but they did. Eventually, I ended up getting my GED and meeting other kids at the exam. It was only then that I began to realize how odd my upbringing was. I wanted to be average, but that was denied me until I turned 18. Then I left home and started acting like everyone else – which my folks never forgave me for ….including getting onto social media. So yeah, I guess as far as the internet is concerned, I didn't exist until I sprang, seemingly fully formed, everywhere at once a few years ago when I was trying to make up for lost time.” I shrugged.

Ken sat back, processing it. I'm not sure he bought it, but he couldn't come up with an instant rebuttal, so he just steepled his fingers and nodded ever so slightly.

“I'm surprised.... after such a ….unique.... upbringing, you turned out so ….unremarkable...”

Tina and her mom (thank God!) both burst a laugh. This genuinely took Ken by surprise. Her mom stifled her amusement and made dismissive hand gestures, Tina just grinned and said “UN-remarkable? Daddy... have you MET my housemate?”

Ken quickly regrouped. “I mean.... homeschooled.... children who have never been properly socialized.... are usually....”

“WHAT.... about Chloe screams 'usual'?” Tina shot back at her father, with her mom nodding in the background. I had not expected this rally around …..me ….and my firewall.... but I was unspeakably grateful.

To my utter shock, and the rest of the family's pleasant surprise, Ken backed down.

He held up his hands. “Please! This is NOT an attack! I'm just.... it's just so... unusual.” His voice lost volume ..and conviction.. as he faced down everyone else around the table.

I began to entertain the hope that I would get us out of here with my firewall intact. For the moment.

I think Ken realized that his skeptical impulses were alienating his whole family, so he backed down. To my surprise and delight.

“No offense intended.” he offered in his own non-apologetic apology. Hands raised and conciliatory expression on his face. “...it's just so... peculiar and unexpected....” he floundered.

My snort relieved him of his awkwardness. “Tell me about it!” I agreed.

Suddenly we were back on the same side. He let it go, and I was glad to concur and move on to more banal chatter.

Eventually we were back on the road. Headed home.

“Oh my God.... I'm so glad THAT's over!” Tina confessed.

“Tell me about it! I was sure your dad breached my firewall.” I laughed.

Tina turned to me. “Oh, God. I wasn't even thinking about that. I just meant... heading home. Sleeping in my old room. Hanging with my old friends.... and apologies for dragging you along.... but thank you thank you thank you for coming out with us!...”

“....because I distracted attention from you?” I smirked.

I caught Tina's blush in my peripheral vision while I focused on the road.

“Well... that too... though it was never my attention to...”

“I know. Glad I could help. But next time, let's try and avoid the alcohol.... by now you know I'm....” I hestitated.

“...a cheap date?” Tina smirked. “Sorry. I didn't know how low your...”

“I only had a breadstick and cup of coffee ALL day!” I defended. “I am NOT that ….cheap.... a date!”

Tina snorted. “Explain again how you ended up with that back tat?”

My forced grimace couldn't completely mask my amusement. I figured 'ideal time to change the subject'.

“So your mom seemed to enjoy our little escapade.” I volunteered.

Tina nodded with a grin, tacitly agreeing with my change of subject.

“She doesn't get out much on her own.” Tina said quietly.

“Then I'm glad we could kidnap her from the wedding.” I laughed.

“....me too...” Tina said. There was no humor in her voice. In fact I'd have to describe her tone as ….introspective. “....SO glad.....”

I reached over, keeping my eyes on the road and she guided her hand into mine, which I gave a warm squeeze.

“So when is your next class?” I tried to change the subject to something less awkward.

“Not til noon tomorrow, thank God. So I get to sleep in.”

“I'll try not to make too much noise when I'm up at six getting ready to grease the wheels of commerce and head out to the first of my jobs!” I mock pouted.

Tina laughed. “What time does Office Oasis open?”

“9. And the custom print desk doesn't open till 10, which gives me all morning to play bike messenger before taking time out for job TWO and bailing at 3 to go back and do the evening runs.” I grinned.

“Oh God, I'm getting exhausted just thinking about it!” She laughed. “Now I'll have to sleep in extra late.” she smirked.

I rolled my eyes. It would be a long day, but after this rollercoaster of a weekend, I was looking forward to returning to the familiar. Though I would have been fine with a few hours less of it.

“I wonder how Zoe's been enjoying having the house to herself?” I grinned. “I haven't seen her for ages, do you think she even noticed we were gone?”

I caught Tina's nod out of my peripheral vision. “I'm sure she noticed. No half pot of coffee left in the kitchen. No leftovers in the refrigerator to nibble on. I don't think I see much more of her than you do, but I notice signs of her presence.”

“Like a mouse.” I laughed.

“Wow. I doubt anyone has ever compared Zoe to a mouse before!” Tina laughed. I nodded.

“I just hope she didn't notice we were gone and decide to prove to her dad why he insisted on her having housemates.” I grinned.

Tina groaned. “Oh God. Now every awful teen comedy is running through my head. I hope she hasn't thrown a rager and trashed the place. Have you met some of her friends?”

I shook my head. So Tina filled me in. “I've met a few at the coffee shop. Let's just say dirtbag Zack was the only one she felt comfortable moving in with.”

“What does that say about the rest?” I grinned.

“Exactly!” Tina laughed.

I was silent for a few miles thinking about this. Tina must have been mentally off somewhere too, because it was minutes before I broke the silence.

“After the drama of her breakup with her ex..... and the heist.... even if it was her own stuff.... do you think Zoe would let her old crowd even know where she's living now.... let alone invite everyone over to a rager?”

Tina thought a while. “Good point. I think she may be seeing this as a fresh start... kind of a reset... I'll bet her old crowd doesn't know where she's living now...” Tina's voice trailed off, then exploded in a laugh. “....especially after that stunt she pulled with the alarm code!”

The laugh that burst from me caught me by surprise. I had totally forgotten how she changed the code so Zack couldn't get back into his own apartment turned meth lab without summoning the cops. Yeah. There was no way Zoe was going to let her old crowd know where to find her.

We both agreed that Zoe was seeming to mellow just a little, though neither of us was so bold as to presume our influence had anything to do with it. Still neither of us was prepared for what we returned home to.

~

When we first arrived home we thought Zoe was nowhere to be found – as usual. When we turned the corner into the living room, we were both startled at the sight of Zoe, barely clad in just black boyshorts and sportsbra, mangled and sprawled on the floor.

“JESUS!” Tina exclaimed and jumped back with a start, nearly knocking me over as I dragged our bags close behind her.

Both our hearts skipped a beat, then were equally startled by Zoe popping to her feet like some spring-loaded toy and spinning to face us.

“Shit! You scared the hell out of me!” She spat.

“YOU?” I shot back. “Oh my god. When we saw you on the floor you looked like you'd been dismembered!”

Zoe's anger instantly transformed into glee as a mischievous smirk erupted on her face.

“Really?” She grinned? “Dismembered?” …She was enjoying this way too much.

“Well...” Tina cut in, “at least like every bone in your body had been broken and someone pretzeled your corpse!”

Zoe's delight just grew. The harder we scowled, the more tickled she became. There was a long, silent standoff. Finally she waved us off.

“It's nothing...” she dismissed. “I'm just ….really limber.” she said with an intensely wicked grin.

“What the hell were you doing on the living room floor?” Tina demanded, still rather rattled.

Zoe was completely back in control. She shrugged it off.

“Yoga.” she said, pointing to the wall mounted TV displaying a woman in sports bra and yoga pants doing some seriously advanced poses ….in 96 inch 4K splendor.

Zoe shrugged. “I usually just do it in my room.....” then she shot us a glare “....but when I noticed you guys apparently ditched me for the weekend....”

Tina & I both blushed.

“....I figured 'what the hell? I've got the run of the house'.... so I made the most of it.”

“I didn't know you did yoga.” I blurted. Mostly for something to say.

Zoe shrugged. “There's a LOT you don't know about me.” She stared at me with an evil smirk. “So now you know one thing. Congratulations.” And with a nasty wink she rolled up her yoga mat and trudged back upstairs, to the privacy of her room.

All I could think of was Tina's dad's mistaken interrogation of me... and how he presumed I was Zoe. I wondered what he knew that we didn't.

Tina and I would soon find out.

As much as I adored meeting the Claypooles and staying at their charming B&B, as well as the refuge of Tina's room after my vaguely remembered but utterly mortifying 'girls night out' with her friends, it was heaven to return to the comfort of my own bed.

The bliss was short-lived as I quickly returned to the crushing routine of Tom's workday. I struggled through the first day back and slowly settled into my groove ….or was it a rut?....

Things were slowly returning to normal and I was getting back into my comfort zone with my crazy double life... working as Tom at my two jobs and quickly returning to Chloe in the rest of my life.

I had a rare one-gig day. It was a quiet Monday half-holiday. It wasn't an official national holiday or “bank holiday” as other countries called it, but many businesses were still closed for the state-observed holiday. The courier office was running a skeleton crew – of which I was not a part. So I frittered away the middle of my day at the dead zone that was Office Oasis' custom print desk. Our regular business clientele were off having a long weekend, but that didn't occur to our national management, so I got paid to staff an absolutely dead department. I passed the time by pulling out my Surface and working on some roughs for Plague Diaries. Tina had written Charles and his mom in as characters, and I chuckled at her little easter-egg as I struggled to do justice to them both. I also took the liberty of making one of the more vile characters in her latest tale into the best caricature I could muster of Bernard, the snooty gallery guy. Normally I wouldn't dare do personal stuff at work, but Gavin our manager gave himself the day off and as the 'tenured' member of the staff (I wasn't sure if my seniority was a badge of honor or proof that I could do no better) I was de-facto in charge. At least that's the bluff I came to work with and everyone seemed to buy it. I was a bit surprised that it worked and wondered if Kevin, Jess and Dave would have accepted it without question if Chloe had pulled this brazen move. Anyway, they bought it and I didn't abuse it. I just handled what few issues came up and were brought to me as if I was a manager. It was not rocket science.... it was a dead day at an office supply store when most businesses were closed. Still I was happy for the hours, and I'm sure the others were too.

So, when I finished my 'personal project' and got the latest panels of P.D. roughed out, I was eager to show Tina, who was working at the coffee shop and sharing a rare shift with Zoe. I will admit, curiosity about seeing my two housemates working together, having to be all businesslike, kind of tickled my curiosity. …especially since I would be a customer... and the customer is always right.... I didn't plan to abuse my privilege, but still the …possibilities.... made me giggle to myself.

I did allow myself time to head home, ditch Tom mode, and quickly head back into town to harass my housemates at their workplace.

Unlike Office Oasis, Cool Beans was really busy by the time I got there. I just stood in back of the crowd watching Tina & Zoe fly like some choreographed team as they dispatched the crowd with stunning efficiency. Eventually, the crowd dwindled and I was the only one left in line.

Tina smirked as she turned to the counter and saw me. “Yes miss? How can I help you?”

I raised a curled finger to my lip, studying the alarmingly crowded menu board. How on earth did Zoe & Tina manage to make all these variations?

“I think I'd like a half-caf Kona macchiato with almond/soy milk blend with half stevia half corn syrup and a shot of bubble-tea.”

Tina grinned as Zoe came up from behind her and thrust a small to-go cup at me.

“Fuck you. Folgers to go. Bitch.” she grinned.

I returned Zoe's evil smirk and gladly accepted the cup. I proffered my debit card as I saw Tina and Zoe's faces cloud.

“Is there a problem here?” This nondescript middle aged guy in polo shirt and dockers came up beside me and challenged Tina & Zoe.

“Relax Dave. She was just busting us.” Zoe scoffed.

The guy regarded me for a moment and saw the smile I shared with Tina and Zoe.

“Dave. This is Chloe. Our other housemate.” Tina smiled.

I smiled to the guy and accepted his handshake,

“And you are?” I raised an eyebrow.

He raised a finger and was about to speak when Tina & Zoe blurted in unison “Our boss.”

I smiled and nodded. “So you're the manager?”

He shook his head with a grin. “No such luck. I own the place.”

Tina smiled politely while Zoe rolled her eyes. Dave seemed unfazed.

“Well, congratulations.” I smiled, surveying the packed place and also scouting out a place to sit. “Business seems to be hopping.”

Dave shot me a grin. “Don't be fooled. This place makes beans.”

Zoe actually groaned and walked away while Tina held up a finger and excused herself to serve a customer who was clearly still making up her mind. They obviously were familiar with Dave's 'dad-jokes' and had a low threshold by now.

Dave caught me scanning for a seat.

“You can sit with us....” he offered, motioning to a table where a tall woman wearing scrubs under her jacket was sitting placidly, regarding us. Upon our gaze she smiled and gave a small wave.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt....” I began, but Dave cut me off.

“Nonsense. There are no free tables, so you'd have to sit with someone. Now, do you want to take your chances with strangers you don't even know, or sit with someone you go back 30, 40 seconds with?” He gave me a goofy smile and in that moment reminded me of nothing more than every dad in every sitcom.

We walked to his table and he introduced his 'better half' Andi, who smiled and offered a friendly handshake. We sat and Dave and I made smalltalk while Andi merely watched. She seemed involved in the chit chat from her facial expressions and eye contact, but she didn't participate at all. After a few minutes, Dave excused himself to do the quick paperwork that was the original purpose of this visit, promising me that soon I would have squatter's rights to our entire table. Andi smiled politely as he gave her a peck on the cheek and promised to be back asap.

He was only gone for ten minutes or so, but it felt like ten days. Andi seemed nice, but it was excruciating making smalltalk with her.

“So, Dave referred to you as his better half....” I flailed for conversation. Andi rolled her eyes and gave me the same weary smile Tina and Zoe did around Dave. It was a mixture of indulgence and exhaustion. Dave was Dave and all three women were resigned to this. “So.... are you....”

At this, Andi held up her left hand and flashed a modest stone and simple gold wedding band. I smiled and nodded. “How long?” I inquired merely to keep the conversation moving. She thought a moment and held up two fingers, which she quickly changed to three.

“Going on three months?” I deadpanned. Upon her scowl I could no longer hide my grin. “Yeah. I knew years.” She smiled back. I scrambled to keep the one-sided conversation going. “Any kids?” I asked innocently.

Her face clouded with pain and I instantly knew I stepped on a mine. “Ah. You're practically still newlyweds... there's plenty of time... especially since I imagine you have enough on your hands with....” I motioned to her scrubs. Andi seemed relieved to be off the subject and nodded with a weary smile.

“Where do you work? Saint Barnabys? ...or...”

Andi quickly peeled back her jacket more, revealing her name badge.

“Oh. Wow. UMC.” I said, making no attempt to hide my awe. University Medical Center was the teaching and research facility and had a reputation as by far the place you wanted to go when you had to go to a hospital.

I was floundering for further conversation when Dave rescued us by returning to the table. “Almost ready to go hon?” he beamed to Andi who gave him a look like a non-swimmer just tossed a life-ring.

“Thanks for the table.” I smiled, as relieved for the reprieve as Andi clearly was. “It was great to meet you.” I smiled politely as I shook both their hands.

“Great to finally meet you Chloe. I feel like I already know you the way the girls go on about you....”

Andi caught my blanche and tugged Dave towards the door. “We'll have to do this again. Soon!” he shouted across the place as Andi spirited him out the door.

When I turned to retake my seat, I came face to face with a grinning Tina and smirking Zoe.

“So, now you've met our boss.” Tina beamed with glee.

“And his.... better half.” Zoe snarked.

“He uhh... seems like a nice boss.” I struggled for something polite to say.

“He really is.” Tina smiled warmly.

“And Andi?” Zoe needled. I hesitated, grasping for a diplomatic response.

“She doesn't talk much....” Tina volunteered.

“Or AT ALL!” Zoe laughed.

I relaxed. “OK. I thought it was me.”

“Not you.” Zoe gave me a sly grin.

“You know.” I confronted Zoe. She just held that snarky grin. “....but you're not going to tell me.” I scowled.

“Where's the fun in that?” Zoe grinned.

I turned to Tina, who just shrugged. She seemed as clueless as I was.

“I've only met Andi a few times. She seems nice..... …..Quiet....”

Zoe snorted. Tina shot her a glare and continued “....maybe kinda shy....”

“SO not shy.” Zoe muttered.

“I don't know any more than you do.” Tina shrugged to me. “Zo's been here a lot longer than me.”

“....long enough....” Zoe muttered, that disturbing grin still on her face.

“Good luck, clue crew” Zoe laughed as she waved us off and went to attend the customer walking toward the counter. Tina quickly made her goodbyes and scurried to get back to work. I nursed my coffee and thought about Andi the silent spouse. And Zoe.... the gleeful keeper of secrets.

So life quickly snapped back to its routines after our weekend adventure and easing back to ritual on the Monday local holiday. Tina returned to classes, Zoe returned to hermiting in her room and I got back to my two jobs and dual life...... Until Tina accosted me on my way out to work in the middle of the week.

“So.... in the car on the drive to my folks, you mentioned your friends and said I really had to meet them....”

I stopped dead in my tracks, recalling the moment of unguarded honesty. I just stared at her like a deer in headlights.

“So when are we going to do this?” she asked innocently. I wanted to read menace into her simple question, but her total lack of guile denied me that paranoid privilege.

“Thurs... um, tomorrow night?” I blurted. It was my usual get together night, and I just made Tina my plus one. It seemed like karma after her cousin's wedding.

“Can't wait!” she beamed and breezed out of the kitchen.

Damn. I had just reflexively invited Tina to meet my friends. I didn't really have many doubts they would all hit it off, but suddenly I was about to put that hunch to the test.

All day at work I obsessed about my stupid reflexive invitation..... I reminded myself that Tina had let me meet her circle of friends.... and that seemed to go rather well... they seemed to accept me.... even if they did get me blind drunk and encourage me to make a slutty spectacle of myself....

I tried to reassure myself that my friends would adore Tina. I had already gushed about her to them, so they would be quite open and accepting if ….when.... I dragged her along with me.

“Have you ever been to Sous-Vide?” I asked as she slid into my Kia.

Tina shook her head. “Never even heard of it.”

“It's kind of a ….niche.... establishment.” Then I thought about my obtuse statement and sighed “....it's basically a gay club.... mostly guys Tuesdays Fridays and Saturdays and lesbians mostly on Wednesdays Thursdays and Sundays... nothing official... that's just the ebb and flow we've observed.”

“We?” Tina raised an eyebrow.

I think I blushed a little. “My group. My gang.... My ….coven” I flashed her a wicked grin. “My friends from the club I mentioned who wanted to ….branch out.”

“And just WHO are these 'girlies' of yours?” Tina asked with a smile that betrayed her impatience.

“You'll meet them soon enough.” I grinned. “Let's save the introductions for then.”

Tina was impatient and bursting with curiosity, but I let her stew in her own anticipation, blithely driving us to the club. And the meeting.

When we got to Sous Vide all my apprehensions were instantly dispelled. I texted Heather that I was bringing the infamous Tina – who was legendary to my group of friends ...as they were to her. So by the time we arrived, they were all dying to meet the fabled roomie.

As we walked up to the table, I immediately took over the diplomatic duties.

“Tina. This is my band of.... my strand of....” Oh crap. “These are my closest friends.”

I got a group 'awwww' and quickly set about the introductions.

“Lindsay Parker.... internet gazillionaire” I beamed.

With a disarmingly awkward smile, Linds extended her hand. “Not gazillionaire, but I was in the right place at the right time and knew when to cash out. Now I'm just a woman of leisure.”

Tina raised her eyebrow. “If you were driven enough to create an acquisition-worthy startup, I can't see you resting on your laurels.”

Linds shot me a radiant smile. She instantly approved of Tina.

“You're right.” she grinned. “When I sold the business, I was Parker Lindsay. Suddenly I had the money to become.... who I should've been all along.... and now that I'm Lindsay Parker ….'Internet Gazillionaire'....” She made air quotes and shot me a wicked smirk “....I'm taking my time enjoying my life and deciding my next move.” she smiled to Tina... who nodded appreciatively.

“And this is Violet.” I beamed and she beamed back. “My very first friend at the club.”

“Well, you were just there by yourself and seemed so ...alone” she blurted.

My face flushed as I recalled the day and Violet's enthusiastic introduction and loving acceptance of the ….'newbie'.

“Violet is the sweetest person you'll ever meet!” I gushed as Violet blushed bright crimson.

Tina offered her hand hesitantly. My heart sank a bit at her less than enthusiastic response. Violet was.... well... Let's just say nature didn't gift her with the most … feminine ... of presentations. At her best, she looked like one of those old Soviet farmfraus... very stocky... with a Madeline Albright face and a Bea Arthur frame. Still, she was one of the most feminine spirits I've ever known... Her empathy and selflessness are unmatched in my experience.

While keeping Violet a complete secret from her ultra-conservative family, 'Carl' did everything possible to keep the extended family harmonious... which some would argue was a futile ambition.

When brother Ron was killed in Afghanistan, Carl took in his widow and their three kids and became a surrogate dad. No one knew the toll it took except for Violet's 'girlies'. We ached for the sacrifices Carl made to cobble together a family for one torn asunder.

Julie, his sister in law, and his nieces and nephew ...also god children.... were a bit bewildered by Carl's munificence. Yet it was obvious they were also thankful for the safe haven while they struggled to get their lives back together.

So, Violet took a back burner ….except for our Girls Nights Out.... and Carl toiled away at his HVAC business and saw to the well being of his ….her... sudden extended family.

I flinched at Tina's reaction to the jarringly unfeminine Violet. I only hoped she would quickly notice the feminine soul residing in this incongruous frame and accept and embrace her as wholeheartedly as the rest of us did.

I cringed when Tina extended a wary hand and a polite, diplomatic smile. “So, you're a crossdresser?” she asked, to the smirks and eyerolls of my friends.

Violet immediately replied with a solemn nod “All my life.”

My friends glanced at Tina then back to Violet, expectantly, suppressing their smiles.

After the requisite beat, Violet flashed Tina the warmest smile. “I've been dressing up like a boy for as long as I remember.”

Like a crowd at a tennis match, all eyes swiveled to Tina.

I think it took her less time than they were expecting before she broke into a warm grin and her eyes sparkled as she nodded. She got it. She suddenly saw Violet the way the rest of us did.

Violet turned to us with a melodramatic sigh. “Why do people always ask that?” She theatrically, threw the back of her hand to her forehead – to the collective chuckles of the table.

“No. The real question is why do you always give that answer?” Jeannie asked with mock exasperation.

“Because it's a great line.” Heather laughed.

Violet smiled and nodded.

“...and it's true...” Lindsay muttered quietly.

Our little group – Tina too - grew solemn... with nods and warm smiles toward Violet.

Tina was much more relaxed when I introduced her to Heather. I had a moment's hesitation during my introduction, because I realized that in her guy mode, Heather was a professor at Tina's school. Much to my relief, they didn't seem to know each other.

Unlike Violet, Heather was extremely feminine in appearance. In fact it had been noticed many times by many people that she bore an uncanny resemblance to the actress Patricia Heaton. While transitioning to full-time Heather mode would be dead-simple, she resisted it, saying the deck was already stacked against her as a middle-aged, unmarried, already underpaid academic, adding gender-bias to the mix would only make her daily existence more of a struggle, so she kept up the male facade at school and in all aspects of her life except for the time she spent with us.

She talked with Tina about school and seemed to recognize some of the professors Tina dished about, but gave nothing away.... simply nodding with a knowing grin. The gleam in her eye when she glanced at me reassured me that Heather wholly approved of my previous buildup of Tina when she was merely folklore through my stories to my friends. Even if Tina didn't realize it, I knew she now had a guardian angel at her school, where Heather would quietly work behind the scenes to 'protect the unicorn'.

Just returning from the dance floor with a girl I didn't know was Jeannie – my oldest friend in the group. Even though I introduced her to the group. She was a classmate of mine at school and seemed unaware of the crossdresser club where the rest of us met. She was already fully transitioned and attending class as Jeannie. For reasons that I never questioned, she once cornered me – in Tom mode – and quietly whispered “don't take this the wrong way, but we are studying sketching the human form..... and I must say.... I... I've been kind of glancing ….okay... studying... you... and I think you would make an absolutely stunning woman.”

My reaction was NOT what she was probably expecting.

“Tell me about it!” I laughed. And then, gauging her reaction, I whispered “Actually, I DO.”

Now, her reaction was not what I expected. She lit up. “Really? Oh my God. I'd LOVE to see! Um, I mean..... do you ever.... is there any chance I could meet....”

“Chloe.” I smiled. She nodded. The name fit. I somehow got great satisfaction at her approval of the name without ever meeting the girl.

“Hey, I work at Yvonne's over on Court after school and on weekends.... Any chance Chloe could....?”

I smiled and nodded. “I'm due for a trim.” I said as I tugged at the ponytail tucked into my button down. Jeannie smiled. She noticed instantly that I already knew of Yvonne's salon. “Any openings Saturday?” I smiled.

She frowned. “Probably not. That's the crazy day. I'm working tonight and Friday after classes.... three to eight.” she scowled.

“Any openings tonight?” I asked with a smile. She startled.

“”Seriously? Tonight? That's not much time to,,,,”

“I don't need much time.” I cut her off with a smile. “7-ish?”

She hesitated. “Um. Probably fine. I won't know until....”

“I could text you to confirm.” I offered and held out my phone. She took it and dialed her own phone.

“OK. Oh God.... so tonight.... ….Chloe....” she stammered, suddenly this whole conversation hit her.

When I got to Yvonne's I was confronted by a locked door and a decal that listed their hours as ending at 6PM. In my confusion I texted Jeannie a pic of the decal captioned “WTF?”

She instantly texted back “Sorry. Forgot to mention. Around back.” with a smile emoji.

I found my way around to the parking lot behind the retail block and counted the doors until I thought I'd located the back door of Yvonne's. Which was unmarked – and also locked. I scowled until I noticed the button subtly marked “after hours” in sharpie marker. I pressed it, my patience quickly evaporating.

A middle aged woman glared at me through the still closed door.

“Yes?” she asked impatiently.

“I ...uh.... came for a trim?” I was getting increasingly sure I'd gotten things terribly mixed up.

“Hours are 9 to 6 weekdays and posted on the front door. This is the delivery entrance.” she stated with barely contained contempt.

I furrowed my brow. “But Jeannie Pirro said 7PM. And she just texted me when I mistakenly went to the front door!” I nearly whined, my confusion snowballing. I held up my phone to the door. The woman coldly stared at it. Then her gaze rose to me. She scanned me like a laser.... a scowl still on her face. Finally I think curiosity trumped suspicion and she unlocked and opened the door.

“Jeannie told you seven?” the woman asked skeptically, walking me to the front reception area and opening an appointment book.

I nodded mutely. She was facing away and probably didn't even catch it. It didn't seem to matter anyway.

“....I could come back if there's been some mistake.... I don't want to keep....”

“Your name miss?” She cut me off, staring at the book.

“Saville. Uh.... Chloe Saville.” I blurted feeling like the worst James Bond ever.

She peered at the book. Then at me. With a raised eyebrow she said “this way please.”

We walked back into the salon. There were a few stations busy with customers, so they weren't actually closed. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I noticed that all the customers were guys.

“Jeannie?” The woman called out. Jeannie appeared from nowhere and shot the woman a curious look. She glanced at me, furrowed her brow and looked back to the woman.

“I believe your seven o'clock is here?” The woman said with a mixture of haughtiness and curiosity.

Jeannie scowled and stared at me. I flashed a meek smile and a finger wave. “If this is a bad time I can....”

“Holy SHIT!” Jeannie exclaimed, turning every head in the place. She instantly blushed. “Holy shit!” she now whispered quietly to the woman and me.

“Thanks Yvonne. Yeah.... this is …. my..... this is Chloe.... yeah.....” she fumbled. “Thanks.”

The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow that said 'this is SO not over' but only said quietly “Very well.” and turned to go, giving me one last glance that seemed like a scan from a spy satellite.... somehow I knew the raw data would be processed and chewed until it resolved into some sense.

Jeannie took my hand and stared me up and down. “Holy shit.” she muttered.

“Deja vu.” I muttered back. “I think that's, like, the third time you said that. Got anything else?” I grinned.

She swallowed hard and stared at me. “And I just said I think you might make....”

“....way ahead of you....” I grinned. “So now you know. This will be our little secret?” I asked sternly.

Jeannie instantly nodded. “Oh god. Of course.... I would never.... especially since you could....”

“Spill that you work at a salon that caters to crossdressers after hours? Puh-leeze!” I said dismissively.

Jeannie looked at me sheepishly. “Spill that I'm not only the president, I'm also a client?” she grinned, echoing that old Sy Sperling Hairclub ad all over late night TV that all us misfits saw as kids.

I gave her a lost look. She grinned and squeezed my hand.

“I didn't transition until I left home and went to school. The school was cool with it, but my folks.... not so much.... suddenly my college fund was withdrawn and I had to scramble to stay in school.... my counselor and I had a heated discussion when I thought I would have to drop out.... she suggested I contact Yvonne and said she would put in a good word. Yada yada yada.... here I am.... still in school ….and telling YOU that as a student of the female form.....” she grinned.

I grinned back. “You're my new hero. I still haven't figured how to show the world....”

“Jesus, girl. You're amazing! What the hell's stopping you?”

I wilted. “So many complications. School. ID. My roomates.... My parents!” I sagged. “....I'm just not ….there... yet. I've made my peace with my true self.... but convincing all those I've lied to – or at least upheld their self-deceptions my entire life.....” I said with the deep ambivalence that I never actually lied to anyone.... simply danced around the truth, awkwardly phrasing things so that they could believe their misguided notions while I technically never lied to them.... I just euphemistically supported their misguided notions.

Jeannie shook her head. “Girl, you're crazy. It's so CLEAR......” she bit her tongue, obviously worried that she'd gone too far.

“God, I wish I had an atom of your confidence.” I sighed.

“I can't for the life of me understand why you don't.” she muttered. “Maybe an awesome hairstyle will help!” she grinned, leading me to a chair.

“Just make sure it's something I can comb back and tuck down my shirt for school tomorrow,” I whined.

“Buzzkill.” she muttered. Then sighed. “....Fine...” with a mock pout.

Jeannie was as good as her word and we became fast friends at school. I finally told her about the crossdressers club I belonged to but she already knew of it from her – after hours clients. She had no interest. After our little sub-group split off to the Sous Vide regulars, I was able to talk Jeannie into visiting us and everyone instantly hit it off. So she's my oldest friend yet one of the newest members of our little coven.

Now, her friend I don't know.” I addressed Tina but smiled at Jeannie and the new girl.

She smirked and offered her hand “JoAnn.... Tavares....”

I leaned in to shake and she nearly twisted my arm off. Noticing my wince, she eased up with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry.” she smiled.

“I should have warned you. JoAnn plays a little rough.” Jeannie smirked.

“A little rough?” Violet laughed. “She nearly snapped my wrist off when we first met!”

“I.... arm wrestle....” JoAnn smiled.

“Guys.... in bars.... ” Heather laughed. “For MONEY.”

JoAnn just shrugged. But there was a hint of a gloat there. “Girl's gotta eat.” she smiled.

“You are such a hustler....” Heather grinned.

JoAnn shrugged it off. “I'm just a mythbuster. I help guys get over their macho delusions.” she smiled.

“So she hustles strangers in bars... arm wrestling, darts, pool” Heather laughed counting off on her fingers.

“Hey. I'm not a mercenary. I'm just naturally athletic.... and good at what I do. I can't help it if guys egos insist on putting money on the line.” Her smile was evil. “Anyway, it's not all about the money.” she weakly protested. “I skate and god knows there's no money in that. That I do for the love of it.”

Jeannie laughed. “Yeah, the love of the speed and the clobbering.” she cocked a thumb at JoAnn. “We're not talking Michelle Kwan here.... grace on the ice..... JoAnn does derby.”

Tina grinned, but I just stared blankly.

“Roller Derby? Mayhem on wheels?” Jeannie grinned.

I nodded. I'd seem some vids on social media.

“No. May Hem retired.” JoAnn corrected.

“No!” Jeannie laughed “I meant mayhem... chaos... like a barfight on a racetrack.”

JoAnn nodded with a grin. “I like that description. I'm stealing it.”

“But JoAnn doesn't play competitively.... she's management.” Jeannie leered.

JoAnn shrugged it off. “Yeah, actually playing on a team would cause a shit-storm.... so I coach and practice with the teams.”

“More than one?” I was confused.

“Yeah. There's Hells Belles.... my girls.... Perp Squad, Rolling Plunder, Whiplasses, Debu-taunts and Brawl-busters.” JoAnn grinned. “....badass bitches all....”

Tina shot me a smirk. I knew she instantly took to JoAnn..... much like she instantly took to Zoe. I wasn't so sure, but I trusted Tina's judgment, so I gave Tina – and JoAnn – the benefit of the doubt.

Everyone seemed to hit it off. JoAnn really wanted to get back to the dance floor, but Jeannie wanted to hear all about my Greenville weekend. Tina was determined to get her version of the story told too, so she took a raincheck when JoAnn tried to drag her to the dancefloor. So finally she badgered Violet into going with her, and while they danced, Tina and I danced around our weekend adventure.

Tina was amazingly discreet when discussing our 'girls night out' with her friends. She only mentioned the kidnapping and makeover, pulling out her phone and showing them a picture of me on the dancefloor, in the hooker-from-the-future dress, doing the batusi.... to my surprise and mortification.

“Oh my GOD!” Jeannie squealed at me. “Who ARE you? Why have we never met?” she teased.

I held up my hands “That is so NOT me.....” I cocked a thumb at Tina “This one and her friends decided to make me their Barbie.”

Tina held up a finger “our slutty Barbie” she grinned wickedly. Then she got serious and turned to my friends “My dad handed me his credit card and told me to treat myself. He didn't say how....” she smirked. “So my friends and I decided to go clubbing, and since we kind of kidnapped this one...” she shot me a smile “daddy helped me get her ….presentable.”

“Can I be your friend?” Jeannie teased.

“Sure.” Tina smiled. “But we're not the same size, so you won't be breaking in items destined for my closet.”

“Who's the hunk?” Heather turned from the phone screen with a raised eyebrow.

“Haha... some banker bro....” Tina started to say.

“He's, um, an asset manager actually.”

“Maybe I could get him to keep an eye on MY assets” Linds leered.

I slapped her playfully on the forearm and was met with a wide grin.

“They were just some finance guys who seemed to frequent the place.” I tried to dismiss.

“Scanning the market for hot prospects.” Tina laughed.

“So, you and this finance guy....” Jeannie leaned in expectantly.

“God guys. It was just dancing! ….OK, and we talked a little....”

“Did you get his number?” Heather smiled.

“Look. It was just bumping into some suits in a club. A little dancing.... and it's 2 states away!” I protested. Still my beet red complexion outed me to my friends.

“She SO did!” Jeannie beamed at Linds. Who smiled and nodded with the same Cheshire cat grin as Heather.

I needed to change the subject.... and fast.

“We weren't there for very long.... it was just our first stop....” I stopped cold when I realized where my story was headed. Tina rescued me.

“Then my slutty friends dragged us out to an all-male review.”

All jaws dropped as I could sense my friends' eyes all lock on me. As I felt my face begin to burn, Tina again rescued me.

“They knew a guy I crushed on in high school worked there ….as a dancer.... and they wanted me to see what I had missed.” she grinned laconically.

Suddenly all attention was off me. Tina just took a bullet for me and I could not express my relief.

Of course the chamber wasn't entirely empty.

Linds laughed. When the others turned to her quizically, she just said “I'm trying to imagine our little girl scout at a Chippendales!”

I felt the crimson return.

“Oh, she was fine” Tina waved a hand. “We got a few drinks in her and she relaxed.”

“YOU drank?” Heather laughed.

“I drink.” I protested.

“Yeah... maybe a Franzia with a full glass of water chaser.... or that soda dressed up to look like a real drink.” she smiled.

“It's not fooling anybody.” Linds smiled. “Rumour's going around that you're secretly Mormon or something.” Her grin was wicked. She turned to Tina. “So what was she drinking?”

Tina looked my friends in the eyes and flatly replied “Fireballs.”

Lindsay slapped her palm on the table, Jeannie let out a reflexive whoop and Heather just slapped both hands to her mouth to hide her exuberant reaction.

“My friend ordered them for the table and kept them coming.” Tina said in a matter of fact way. “It's what she does.”

“Ohmigod. I would pay to see this one even slightly lit!” Linds laughed, her smiling eyes riveted on me.

“How many did you have?” Jeanie grinned.

I shrugged.

“You don't know or you don't remember?” Heather smirked.

I shrugged again, my face burning from my obvious permablush.

“Six or seven. I think seven.” Tina smiled. “So don't ask her how the show was. She doesn't remember. But the rest of us do. And aside from my friends humiliating me – and the dancer who recognized me and knew I recognized him..... everyone else seemed to have a good time.”

“I'll bet.” Linds snerked. Jeannie gave her a light elbow jab and her smirk faded to a polite smile.

“So how was the rest of your weekend?” Heather threw me a lifeline to change the subject a bit.

“Good.” I reflexively replied, trying to figure out what to tell and how much from Tina's cousin's wedding.

“Chloe met some of my family, then we kidnapped my Mom and made a day of it.” Tina smiled.

“Her mom's the best.” I said absent mindedly. “Actually her whole family's cool.”

“Especially her DAD.” Jeannie said in a no-duh inflection.

I shot her a puzzled look. She just stared at me as if whatever was going through her mind was obvious to the world. She turned to Tina.

“He gave you his Black Amex and told you to indulge yourself?”

Tina laughed. “First. It wasn't a Black Amex. Second, he didn't say indulge... he said treat.... he knows that I know what that means. My dad's not loaded.”

“Not loaded. Just a modest house in a quiet neighborhood. Just a working stiff like everyone else.” I said to back up Tina. “Good guy.” I nodded. Tina shot me a grin.

“You didn't think so when you first met him!” she laughed.

“Well, he thought I was ZOE for crying out loud.” I defended. Then I turned to my friends “He apparently didn't know Tina had TWO housemates and thought I was our other roomie.”

“He does corporate security consulting and stuff.” Tina explained. “Apparently he did a background check on Zoe and didn't like what he found.” Tina shrugged.

“So he spanish inquisitioned me until he realized I was not the droid he was looking for.”

“You need to get out more.” Linds laughed.

“Have you Googled Zoe?” Jeannie asked. Tina and I both nodded.

“Nothing to see. High school yearbook picture. Some stuff from when she went to Arts.”

“She went to arts?” Jeannie blurted. I nodded.

“A few years before us. I think she dropped out. There's really not a lot about her online.” I shrugged.

Lindsay tilted her chin down and looked me straight in the eyes. “Sometimes what you can't find says more than what you can find.”

I shrugged. “Meaning?”

“Maybe this housemate of yours has another life. A secret life. Lurking in the shadowy corners of the darknet....” She gave me an ominous look.

“Bwah ha ha!” Heather exclaimed rubbing her hands together like a supervillian.

Linds couldn't keep up the ominous pretense. It collapsed with a snort and a honked laugh.

Still, Tina and I exchanged glances. Zoe WAS a giant box of mystery.

“Well.... she's hardly ever home.... and when she is, she hermits in her room....” I muttered.

“Yeah. She is SUPER private.” Tina added. “I see more of her at work than I ever do at home....” she sounded like she was thinking out loud. “And there was all those cases of stuff we had to get back from her exe's” she stared at me.

“So she's making bioweapons? Suitcase nukes?” Heather laughed.

Tina and I both shook our heads.

“Girl doesn't vibe terrorist. Or even bunny-boiling stalker.” I dismissed.

Tina nodded her agreement to my friends, then she turned to me as she addressed them “....still..... she does seem to have an awful lot of secrets.”

Linds reached out and took my wrists with a grin. “Now that we've met the unicorn....” she smiled to Tina “...we definitely HAVE to meet the Gorgon.”

Tina bonded hard and fast with my friends at Sous Vide and they all exchanged phone numbers and social media handles. I will admit I felt a little jealous that she fell in with my friends so quickly, but I was the one who built her up to them, and them to her. They just proved to each other that all my gushing wasn't hyperbole. I felt a little jealous knowing that Tina and my girlies could now connect directly without me as an intermediary. My head knew I was being foolishly insecure, but my heart still twinged at the thought that they could all hook up and do things without me being involved at all.

My head finally won the argument, knowing that when my friends did want to do things, I was often hobbled by at least one of my jobs. If Tina went to a movie or the beach or whatever with my group, at least I would get a detailed rundown of what I missed while I was working. Thinking of it that way made me feel a little less jealous. She would be my eyes & ears when I couldn't be there.

Of course Tina's schedule was at least as hectic as mine. She was still going to classes, so her two part time jobs ate more into what little time she had than mine ever did.

I made the mistake of dropping in on her at Nostalgia Nook. Twice.

The first time was in Chloe mode. I was met with contempt from the hipster chicks who instantly dismissed me like a Mary Kay rep at a Goth Fair. The hipster dudes were far worse, all sidling up to 'the mundane chick' and offering all sorts of unsought advice on how I had the potential to 'become cool' with serious effort and the intense attention of a 'personal mentor'. I tried to talk to Tina, but was constantly interrupted and 'corrected' by the hipster a-holes. Though I could see it on her face, Tina couldn't say anything.... these were her customers.... even if they mostly loitered and got into arcane arguments with each other over some minutia or other. I was immediately reminded of the time I went in Chloe mode into a comic book store I'd frequented often – and invisibly – as Tom. It was not a pleasant experience and I vowed never to make that mistake again.

Yet I did.

I don't know why I thought a 'niche boutique' like Nostalgia Nook would be any different than a comic book store.

So the next time I visited Tina, I made the extra effort to do so as Tom.

That didn't go any better. Just a different kind of bad, as all these territorial hipsters kept passively aggressively challenging my 'hipster cred' in a misguided effort to protect their turf. At least I had no problem with the hipster women. They just instantly dismissed me. Something I was quite used to as Tom. But at least there were no evil stares as Tom was deemed utterly inconsequential.

After those two miserable attempts, I stuck to visiting Tina at the coffee shop.

In my frequent visits to Cool Beans, I had a few more encounters with Dave & Andi.

I don't know if he was just being polite, but Dave mentioned how impressed he was with Plague Diaries, once Zoe outed Tina as a “secretive cult artist”. He asked what I was working on, so I dutifully pulled my surface from its bag and showed them. Dave's interest seemed polite, but Andi seemed really intrigued.

“She's a real fan.” Dave told me in a stage whisper. Andi just blushed and tried to kill him with her glare. Dave was oblivious. “When I mentioned it after I found out, she went online and stayed up way too late.” he grinned.

Andi just shrugged and smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah. Tina weaves an intricate tapestry.” I smiled. Andi just stared at me disapprovingly.

“That she does.” Dave agreed. “Still, your images give it.....” he turned to Andi, seemingly at a loss for words. She just narrowed her eyes and gave him a 'you know this' look. He seemed to remember. “Oh, yeah.... a whole added dimension.” He turned to Andi for confirmation and she nodded ever so subtly. I got the feeling she had a lot to say, and it was Dave's job to figure it out and say it. Something told me they were both old hands at this.

Dave again excused himself to retreat to his office and 'grab some homework', leaving me alone again with Andi. I had quickly learned not to try engaging her in conversation and usually just pulled out my tablet and surfed or scribbled. But this time I had a notion I had to test.

“So what do you do at UMC?” I signed.

Andi startled. She cocked her head and I thought 'perhaps I played this wrong'. Then she signed back. “Emergency Room.”

My eyes went wide and she couldn't help but read the awe on my face “That must be intense.”

She nodded. “Why are you signing? I'm NOT deaf.” She signed.

I shrugged. “But you sign.”

“So do YOU.”

She had me there. I just shrugged & grinned.

“Why?” she signed.

I shrugged again. “It was an elective at school.” I said while signing at the same time. “I thought maybe if the whole starving artist thing didn't work out, I could find work as one of those people in the little circle on TV, signing during political speeches and public events.” I grinned.

Andi smiled. “Good to have a backup plan.” she signed. “But after seeing your work, I don't think you'll need it.”

I gave a polite head bow and smile. “So if you're not deaf......” I left it hanging there until she nodded in acknowledgment. “Why do YOU sign?”

She paused a moment, formulating her response. “Same as you mostly. It's a second language. And it can be useful at the hospital.” she signed.

I nodded. “I can imagine. A good skill to have.” I smiled.

She returned my smile and nodded. I was trying to find a polite way to inquire why she could hear but never spoke, when Dave lumbered up to the table.

“Sorry to hold you up, but we'll get you to work on time.” He grabbed Andi's elbow and nearly swept her from her seat. She smiled apologetically and waved as Dave was already out the door.

As I turned my gaze from Andi & Dave at the door, I noticed a presence in my peripheral vision.

“Not deaf.” Zoe grinned. “Still, good guess. I didn't know you knew ASL.” she quirked an eyebrow.

Finally, a chance to give her a taste of her own medicine. “There's a lot about me you don't know.” I tried to deliver in Zoe's own deadpan. Zoe just snorted.

“Yeah. Right.” she laughed and walked back toward the counter, but over her shoulder she taunted “you're still no closer to figuring it out!”

“I'll just ask Tina.” I smiled.

Zoe scoffed. “Good luck with that. She's no closer than you.”

'Maybe I should just ask her dad' I thought to myself snarkily. Then quickly thought about something else. Even as a joke to myself I didn't want to go there.

A number of weeks later, we had a real holiday. A national holiday, or as they call it in some countries, a bank holiday. Nothing was open. Including Tina & Zoe's coffee shop. Dave announced he was closing the shop & invited Tina, Zoe and the rest of his crew to a cookout at his place. He also instructed Tina & Zoe to drag me along too.

Dave was in full on 'dad mode' in a tacky barbecue apron, being the jovial host and keeping the party as stirred as the coals in his grille. Zoe took it upon herself to bring our collective contribution – a neon green concoction that I quickly learned were her homemade margaritas.

“I always bring Mezcal Maggies” she grinned. At my raised eyebrow, she smiled and raised a finger “Mezcal not tequila.... grand marnier not triple sec.... and juiced real limes – none of that sugary sweet stuff.”

I nodded. It sounded potent. I would be avoiding Zoe's 'Mezcal Maggies'

“Andi loves them, so I always bring a batch.” she grinned wickedly. Then she pulled Tina & me into a huddle and whispered “Only thanks to you guys, I improved the recipe.”

Tina & I exchanged perplexed – and alarmed – glances.

“I call these Viva Muerte Margaritas.” she grinned wickedly.

“Zombie juice.” Tina snorted. Zoe just beamed.

Then Zoe shrugged. “I just added Everclear. Upped the octane.”

I glanced to Tina, who turned to Zoe. “Why, exactly did you ...up the octane?”

Zoe just flashed us a fiendish smile.

At which point Dave interrupted us. “What's with the empty hands ladies? EAT! We've got dogs & burgers and chicken and burgers and ribs and burgers....”

“That's a barnful of choices.” Tina laughed. Andi quickly came up behind Dave with three small plates with barbecued cobs of corn, and what looked like homemade coleslaw and potato salad.”

“Well, at least you have offerings from the field as well as the barn.” Tina laughed.

Zoe turned to us. “You guys have to try Andi's potato salad. It's really unorthodox ….in the best possible way!” And she shot us a look that practically commanded us to accept the plates and take a hesitant bite.

We both turned to each other with big grins. Then turned to the anxious Andi awaiting our reactions.

“Ohmigod. This is amazing!” Tina gushed.

“I'm tasting an almost subliminal hint of chinese hot mustard and tumeric and ….do I taste curry?”

Andi lit up.

“Looks like you cracked it.” Zoe grinned. “I just know it's fuckin' awesome.”

Then she turned to the tote she brought and pulled out her neon green jug. “And speaking of awesome....” she grinned to Andi, whose eyes went wide as a kid on Christmas morning.

Andi accepted it with a big smile as Dave laughed “and now the party really begins!” he leaned in and gave Zoe an uncomfortable hug. “I knew there was a reason we keep inviting you back.” he grinned goofily.

Andi had slipped to the kitchen and quickly returned with some plastic margarita glasses. She offered them to Tina and me. We both smiled and held up our red party cups. Mine was filled with Sprite and I suspect Tina was doing something similar.

“More for us.” Zoe shrugged to the beaming Andi. They clinked plastic glasses and imbibed. Andi knocked hers back quickly and gave Zoe a big grin, quickly refilling her glass and having a demure sip. Zoe nursed hers gingerly and walked off to a quiet corner of the big room off the backyard patio. Andi followed her like the pied piper.

“Well, those two are set for the rest of the party.” Dave laughed. “C'mon out back while I prod my breasts.....” he paused a beat “...and my wings and drumsticks.... they should be ready to turn by now” and he snapped his barbecue tongs like an angry lobster, goofy grin on his face.

Tina and I exchanged eyerolls.

“Anyway, you have to meet Wayne and Vanessa from down the street. They're really fun and they have two boys in college.... twins....” he leered.

Tina winced and shot me a glance. I just smirked. “That'd be great, for later? I have to catch up with that guy....” I motioned with my head.

Tina caught on and bailed me out. “Zack.”

“Yeah. Zack. He challenged me to a game of horseshoes and since he finally got the court, I'm going to take him up on it and school him.” I grinned. Dave nodded, unconcerned that we shunned his plan and seemingly just happy to see us 'mingling'.

The party went on well past sundown, and gradually guests trickled away after realizing they all had work or school in the morning.

We lingered and offered to help clean up, which Dave eagerly accepted. Zoe and Andi were still in a far corner of the spacious living room seemingly huddled in heated conversation.

After I got everything bagged and binned and the dishwasher started, I ambled over to notice the nearly drained neon green bottle between Zoe & Andi.

“Looks like you two are having a party of your own.” I grinned.

“For your information, we're having a serious conversation.” Zoe raised a slightly wobbly finger. Andi nodded.

I raised an eyebrow.

“And none of your stupid sign language bullshit.” she added. Andi nodded absentmindedly.

“I really CAN talk you know,” Andi declared. Startling me. “I just hate the sound of my damned voice.”

I stood in stunned silence. She sounded almost exactly like Harvey Fierstein.

“OK.....” I said. Mostly for something to say. She glared at me.

“SEE???” she held an accusatory finger at me. “THAT'S why I keep my damned mouth shut! That look.... that ….look.... you're giving me.”

“Sorry.” I muttered. “It's just ….so.... I was taken by surprise.”

Andi snorted. “Tell me about it.... story of my damned life.”

“OK.” I said again just for something to say.

She brushed her hand in the air tipsily. “It's a loong story.” she scowled.

“Wanna hear it?” Zoe grinned wickedly. Then she turned to Andi with a pleading look like a dog begging for table scraps.

Andi regarded her for a while. Blinked a few times, then seemed to remember Zoe's request. “....fine.” she sighed. At which point Zoe lit up and beckoned Tina to join us.

I quickly suspected the high-octane margaritas were never intended as a hostess gift. They were Zoe's not-so-secret weapon to loosen Andi up. Dave had pretty much confirmed that. When Zoe beckoned Tina over, he shooed her with a grin and said 'thank God she's finally talking.'

“Hey slowpoke. C'mon....” Andi called out to Tina slapping the sofa cushion next to where she sat, legs folded under her. “I'm NOT telling this twice!” she grinned.

So Andi spilled her story.... which was wilder than anything I made up to throw Tina's dad off my trail. I made a mental note to steal some of this to bolster my own cover story.

Her parents were genuine off-the-grid types. Not hippies apparently. She didn't go into much detail, but they seemed more like right-wing survivalist types. They were really into Nietzsche ….and it seems, Mary Baker Eddy. They were NOT into doctors.. believing that the way we got to the top of the food chain thousands of years ago is because our species was the best of the best and every challenge overcome made us better.

Those were the people who raised – and home-schooled - Andrea. She didn't go too much into her childhood, but I got the sense from her relaxed demeanor that it wasn't really traumatic. Not to her. Since her parent's worldview was the only one she knew. She seemed to have a surprisingly uneventful and emotionally nourishing childhood.

Until she was eight.

That was the year she apparently caught a cold... nothing unusual... until it seemed to become a flu.... then maybe strep... and kept getting worse.

Her parents were very supportive, convincing her that she had the resources to focus her own innate immune system to vanquish this illness and thereby strengthen her immune system. She believed – and still does – that they were sincere in their beliefs and confidence that she would defeat this illness once she learned how to harness her innate strength and channel her body's resources to smite this attack.

While she quickly conceded that her parents were well-intentioned – but deluded – and it's amazing that she didn't die, she stated for the record that she believed to this day that they never intentionally placed her in jeopardy.

Their own faith in their beliefs were sorely tested when Andi apparently lapsed into a coma. Her face twisted with ambivalence as she described their anguishing over whether to bring her to a hospital, certain that it would mean social services wrenching her custody from them.

While they were still wrestling with their dilemma – three days later – Andi's fever broke.

The recovery was long and daunting. Her parents upturned their lives and devoted themselves 24/7 (actually 8 hour shifts each around the clock) to Andrea's recovery.

It took well over a year for her to feel this daunting ordeal was behind her. Her parents showed infinite patience – and more than a little guilt – as Andrea slowly crawled back the long road to recovery.

The ordeal took its toll. Her parents tried to spin it as 'war scars'.... her proof that she had prevailed over a near-fatal illness. Andi never bought that rationalization, yet saw no point in arguing the issue since things were what they were and she just needed to learn to deal with them.

For one thing, she was mute.

If you've ever had laryngitis, you will understand. It 's baffling, the first time it happens, that suddenly you can't make a sound beyond the woosh of your breath.... In time, you accept it, because.... it just ….IS. Eventually.... with a relief and newfound appreciation of precious things heretofore always taken for granted - your voice returns.

Andrea's recovery was slow. Eventually she recovered a whisper.... which over months evolved into a ghost-like rasp. When something that could be generously called 'a voice' eventually returned – along with an early puberty – Andrea was nearly ten.

The fact that her quirky parents had recused her from the public education system by home-schooling her, spared her from a lot of the awkwardness of her long recovery. ….And the eventual restoration of the voice that grew back.

She was a seemingly inconspicuous ten year old, who, when she opened her mouth, sounded like Darth Vader with a headcold.

Her parents did their best to make light of it and spare Andrea of any self-consciousness. Still, she was mortified by the sound of her new 'voice' and chose instead to revert to muteness – to her parent's everlasting chagrin.

Another surprise – whether related to the hormonal havoc instigated by her illness or just something that was always in her DNA... was the profound effect of puberty on the precocious tween.

She burst into young-adulthood with alarming alacrity. Her parents struggled to appear nonchalant and supportive, yet it was clear to Andi that they were nearly as distressed by the physical changes as she was. By the time she was actually a teen, she had sprouted to over 5'11” and had filled out into a frame that could be euphemistically described as 'Amazonian'. She was fiercely athletic with an imposing muscular frame. Ironically, as her folks long told her, her illness seemingly left her far stronger. Literally. However, by the age of 15, she looked like a 29 year old transgender woman.

When she turned 18, she fled the nest. She bore her parents no ill will and still had a strong sense of appreciation and complicated affection for her parents, who she viewed as always trying to do what they considered best. They were worlds apart in their world view, and the gulf only grew wider as Andi made her way in the outside world. Still, she made it clear that she bore her parents no animosity or ill will, and while she profoundly disagreed with their philosophy and life choices, she respects that when she turned 18, they let her go without a fight.

She got her GED, made her way through community college working under the table and low skill jobs, slowly making up for the 18 years of cultural isolation. She still remained an outsider of sorts.... remaining mute to the outside world. She learned American Sign Language in community college and that proved an immense help in 'mainstreaming' her life. Over time and much struggle, she made her way through college and med school.... where she researched her own past and speculated that based on her hazy recollections she was likely hit by a bout of scarlet fever or Kawasaki Syndrome..... She ultimately earned her L.P.N. eventually landing a coveted job at University Med Center, where her cool head and quick mind earned her a prime slot on the emergency room crew.

That's where she met Dave.... which she glossed over diplomatically... only saying that he ingratiated himself to her with his goofy charm and insane doggedness until eventually she found herself where she never allowed herself to imagine.... in a loving committed relationship with a guy who got her, knew her baggage, and had no problem with it.

I felt a pang at that, as when I allowed my mind to even go there, I couldn't imagine where I'd end up ....let alone with whom... always presuming my paradoxical gender-straddling existence would guarantee a life spent alone. The only question I ever dared to let myself wonder was, in the end, when I stopped straddling, which side of the metaphorical line would I end up.

“I knew you two bitches would never figure it out on your own.” Zoe cackled. The she got serious. “But I also knew it was important that you did.” and she flashed an uncharacteristically warm smile to Andi ...who returned it.

Then she glared at me “so no more of this sign language bullshit!”

“It's NOT bullshit!” Andi and I both blurted out simultaneously... then turned to grin at each other. The first of many such moments.

Zoe rolled her eyes “whatever..... do you know how fucking hard it is to eavesdrop when you're both just playing fucking charades?” she groused. Then her gruff face faded and she gazed at us sincerely. “Walls are down. No more games. OK?” she smiled.

Andi eyed me with a nod and beamed back to Zoe. My response was slightly less enthusiastic, but I hoped Andi didn't catch it. Her walls were down, but mine were still intact, and she didn't even know they existed.

Once the ice was broken, Tina and I quickly warmed up to Andi. She was sharp and funny and had a huge heart. Despite all the stuff she went through growing up and the tension and drama she saw daily working as an E.R. Nurse, she had the most cheerful outlook of anyone I'd ever known. Maybe knowing how tense and bleak life could be, she had a better appreciation of the micro-joys of each ordinary day.

A few days later I got a text from a number I didn't recognize. But I had a hunch.

“Hope you don't mind. I got your number from Zoe. What are you doing?”

I texted back “Not sure whether I mind or not. Who IS this?”

“Andi! I was chatting with Zoe and she said I should call you and hang out. :-) ….if that's OK?”

“I'd love to hang out. ….but I'm at work and Zoe KNOWS that.”

“Oh. OK. Sorry. Hope you don't mind me texting you, but I need to do a few errands at the mall and Dave is insufferable when I take him shopping.....” She didn't need to use an emoji. Her disappointment was palpable.

“I'm through in about an hour. ….can I meet you there?”

“I can pick you up. Where do you work?”

Crap.

“No worries. I don't want to hold you up. I can meet you at the mall.” I countered.

“So an hour?”

“That depends. Which mall?”

“Four Oaks?”

“How about 90 minutes-ish?”

“Text me when U get there and we can meet up. :-)”

I exhaled a breath of relief. Then I tore through my last deliveries and headed home to 'Chloe-up'.

Fortunately, that's a really quick routine of stripping off Tom. I got to the mall almost exactly when I said. When I rendezvoused with Andi, she still shot me a glare.

“I was THIS close to giving up on you” she signed holding thumb precariously close to her forefinger.

“Sorry.” I sighed, thinking I came almost exactly when I predicted. I guessed it seemed like an eternity to Andi... which I somehow found flattering. “I... doesn't matter.. sorry.... Thanks for waiting....”

Andi shrugged and cut me a pass.

“So. Are we good to go?” she signed. “I've already had waay too many coffees.” she leaned in and whispered with a grin.

I smiled politely and understood why 90 minutes seemed like an eternity. Andi shrugged and stepped up and out of her seat. “Time's wasting. Shall we go?” she signed.

“Of course.” I said.

Andi shot out of her chair and through the door. When I caught up to her on the busy sidewalk she quietly said “Maybe the coffee....s got me too wired... but I have a lot on my list... you in?” She turned back to regard me.

I nodded. “Totally.”

We tore through shops like an invading army.

Andi's idea of a “shopping spree” was not what I was expecting. Unlike any of my other friends, there were no visits to Neiman Marcus, Saks or even Lord & Taylor. Andi was the epitome of ….sensible.... Target, Kohl's and Gap were her mainstays.... and I think more than half of the stuff she bought was for Dave. When I asked her about it, she pulled me aside and whispered.

“I always heard women at work grousing about the ordeal of taking their boys shopping for back to school..... I realized with Dave that they never outgrow that.” She shot me a smirk. “I know his sizes, so this is just easier.... And now that I have someone to shop with, a lot more fun.”

I politely returned her smile. I could not see how she could wring fun out of a supply run to Target. “What about you?” I smiled. “We're here. World's our oyster.... Anyplace you want to go.... just for YOU?” I was somewhat stunned that I was the one trying to coax Andi into some self-indulgent splurging.

She shot me a guilty look. “Well.... there are some things I've been thinking about.... but they're really not necess....”

I cut her off with a gentle arm slap “We're here.... Mall's our playground.... Just trying something on doesn't mean you have to buy it. God, girl.... live a little” I urged with a grin.

She shot me a guilty grin. “OK. You twisted my arm.”

….so we went to the one 'specialty boutique' Andi always wanted to visit, but never did.

Work 'N Gear.

I smiled and shook my head. This girl was going to need a LOT of work.

Andi was as over the moon as a Flanders child discovering there was such a thing as flavored candy. She spun through the place, holding a colorful variety of scrubs up to herself and gazing dreamily in the mirror.

“Go on. Try them on.” I found myself having to urge her. She shot me a baffled look. I pointed to the dressing room. “That's why they HAVE them.” I grinned.

I snickered at the thought that Tina's friend Lauren and her drones would go absolutely nuts with Andi at a mall. I pushed her to dip her baby toe in the shallow end, shopping for flowered scrubs, and still felt she was ready to explode with excitement.

I had to work harder than the salesclerk – who in all honesty was seriously disinterested in selling and only seemed attentive when he thought someone might shoplift. I finally managed to persuade Andi to “indulge herself” in some kicky new ….workwear. I smiled to myself that this girl was going to need more than my coaching to loosen up. I'd have to recruit Tina and Zoe so we could triple-team her.

We had spent a couple hours at the mall, which I gathered was a record for Andi. Finally we had one stop left.

All those coffees finally caught up to her, so we hightailed it to the ladies.

We had too many bags to comfortably fit in a stall, and neither Andi or I intended to tie up the handicapped stall just because we had bags. One of the two standard stalls were occupied, so we arranged that we'd take turns. One would watch the bags while the other took a stall.

Andi insisted I go first, even though it was her need that brought us to the ladies. I quickly realized the futility of arguing and resolved to go quickly so she was free to seek relief. As I headed to the stall, an ill-temepered older woman headed to the sink and shot me a glare. She then turned to stare daggers at Andi who waited patiently out of the way with all our bags. I thought no more of it and went about my business. I quickly finished and went to wash up while Andi made a beeline to a stall.

There was no one else in the restroom, so I didn't worry about our collection of bags in the corner where Andi left them.

Suddenly the door BURST open and the scowling older woman from earlier stormed into
the ladies with a bedraggled mall security guard behind her.

“There's a MAN in the ladies room!” She blared at the weary guard.

“So you keep saying ma'am.” The guard sighed. “You didn't need to call 911. This is private property. You should have come to us first.”

“What do I pay my taxes for???” she near-screamed. “I can't believe after all that, they contact ….you.” she said, her voice laden with scorn and contempt.

“It IS my job ma'am.” The guard said with a sigh.

I could barely believe my eyes. I shook myself out of my stunned state and addressed the guard. “I have no idea what she told you....”

“Told the police....” the mall-security guard corrected. “THEY contacted us.” The guard seemed to just want this to be over quickly and be rid of this agitated older lady.

I regrouped. “OK. I don't know what you were told, but I.....”

“Not HER!” The woman yelled with contempt. She then shot an arm out at the stall. “THERE!!!”

Andi couldn't help but hear the commotion. The woman was a tornado or outrage and agitation. There was a flush and seemingly endless seconds later the stall door opened. Andi stood with poise and tried to hide the 'not again' look on her face. I knew instantly this was not ….her first rodeo.....

She walked over to the guard and surly woman. Shot them a look, then silently went to wash up.

“Well???? Aren't you going to DO something??” The woman instantly badgered the guard.

“I am.” The guard replied as calmly and quietly as the woman was loud and out of control. “I am letting her wash up.”

“HIM! You're letting HIM use the sink in the LADIES room!!!!”

I couldn't stand by any longer. I stepped between them and glared at the woman. “What the HELL is wrong with you? Are you off your meds or something?” I was furious and struggling to keep it under wraps. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Andi's glance in the mirror. It was near-telepathic. I knew she was forcing herself to remain zen and shot me a look that said 'thanks.... but ….not helping.'

The woman started jabbing me in the chest. “YOU... stay out of this! I don't know what sick thing you have going on. but I'm putting an end to it NOW!” She turned to the guard, shooting her poking arm in Andi's direction again. “ARREST HIM!”

The guard sighed and shot me a quick 'kill me now' glance then returned her attention to the woman.

“Ma'am.... I'm not authorized to arrest anyone ….even if I WANTED to....”

...and I knew at that moment just WHO the guard wished she could drag off in cuffs. Andi regarded us all silently from the mirror, still standing at the sink.

“THAT'S why I called 911! They should have come in the first place, instead of shrugging me off to …..you.” The scorn in her voice was SO odious, I think every one of us – save, possibly the above-it-all Andi - just wanted to slap her.

“Ma'am.... that's....” the guard stopped and rethought her response. “We should free up the rest room and discuss this in the mall office.” She shot Andi an apologetic look. “Please....” and she gestured us to the door. The furious woman seemed irked that justice was being delayed but conflicted that at least her sacred Ladies room was being vacated. Andi & I grabbed our bags and joined the guard and obnoxious woman to walk to the mall offices. We probably didn't have to. I doubt they had any real reason to compel us, but Andi seemed resigned, and I was so furious I wanted to give the woman a piece of my mind and set the beleaguered guard straight.

It took almost fifteen minutes. We each spoke individually to the guard and some sort of supervisor in a glass walled room deep within the mall offices. While I was telling my version, the supervisor excused himself and stepped out to attend to the older woman, who was standing screaming at Andi in the waiting area, that same stupid arm jabbing in accusatory stabs as she berated Andi at the top of her lungs. She was finally escorted to another room where she was left alone to wait her turn.

Long story short, we all spoke our piece and went off to await the outcome. Andi and I in the outer waiting area, and furious woman in the windowless room where they first sequestered her. Very quickly we were ushered into the office, where the supervisor spoke and the guard looked on apologetically. We were told how deeply the mall management firm regretted our unpleasant encounter and how much they hoped we would continue to keep an open mind when next deciding where to shop.... the supervisor noticeably eyeing our collection of bags. We were each presented with mall gift cards good for any store on the property and offered a profound and seemingly deeply sincere apology for our 'unpleasant encounter'. The guard sprang up and expressed her regret and distress at having to accost us in the loo. Andi smiled a shrug and I shook her hand with a smile. “I understand... no hard feelings... just glad I don't have YOUR job.” I laughed and rolled my eyes in the direction of the room where angry woman was stewing.

“Don't worry about any further encounters with ….her....” the supervisor said with disdain, cocking her head in the direction of the windowless room. “She will soon find out she is no longer welcome on the premises.”

Andi shot me a quizzical look, so I asked the question.

“So, what.... she's banned or something?” They both grinned and nodded. “Can you DO that?”

“It's private property” the supervisor said. “We have sole discretion over who is welcome and who is ….trespassing.” she smiled.

The guard grinned wickedly. “She may not believe or ...accept... that she's persona non grata.... but she'll quickly find out.... and keep finding out until she gets it through her thick skull” she said, barely hiding her delight anticipating these ….lessons.

As she walked us out of the office, the guard quietly whispered “This is not her first time. She accosted a dad taking his three year old into the men's room. A mixed race couple she was convinced were a pimp and his whore. A grandfather waiting for his wife with his granddaughter.... I could go on, but you get the gist. This is not her first time pulling stuff like this.” Then her grin got wicked. “Actually, it's her last.”

Andi and I just shared a look. There was no joy or vindication. This toxic woman was banished from the mall, but she and the monsters in her dark, fearful soul will no doubt find other places to sow hysteria and dread.

We were quietly reflective as we walked to Andi's car... with purses full of gift cards ….a 'please don't sue us' apology. I kept insisting that Andi take mine since she was the one wronged and put through this ordeal. She shrugged and admitted this wasn't the first time, and actually turned out far better than most. She thanked me for standing up for her during our 'office inquisition'. I waved that off and admitted that I was glad to be a witness to it all, since it made for two identical testimonies against 911-woman. Andi laughed and told me I'd be surprised how many women like that there were. I thought for a moment and realized maybe I would be, but others wouldn't ….including my dear friend Violet who never spoke of such things, and probably many lifelong women who weren't born 'instagram pretty' and had run ins with paranoid gender zealots. I sighed at the thought, the gloom beginning to overtake me. Until I turned and glanced at Andi, who had put it behind her as quickly as finding a piece of TP stuck to her heel and dislodging it. I would learn a lot from her about making peace with the past and not letting 'the long tail' of experiences drag at me like an anchor chain. Andi had already shrugged off the unpleasantry and was gleeful at the unexpected giftcards in her purse ...probably dreaming of her next shopping spree.... no doubt at Work 'N Gear. (sigh)

I was getting ready for work the next day when Zoe burst into the bathroom.

“Oh. Fuck. Sorry” she blurted.

Yet she lingered. Staring at me.

I turned and stared at her. “No biggie. I will be out in a moment. My bad for not locking the door.”

She stood there and continued to stare. I could sense that she was piecing it together,

“Fuck.” She muttered.

I feigned ignorance. “What?” I asked rhetorically.

“THIS is how you do it.” she nearly crowed.

I turned to her with a raised eyebrow, trying desperately to bluff.

Zoe flashed a shit-eating-grin. “I've seen you. Fresh from the shower going back to your room.....” She gave me a glare. “It was always fucking Chloe... even dripping wet with no makeup....” Her grin grew wicked. I just waited for it.

“TOM is the fucking act!” she crowed.

I turned to her with my 'Duh!' face. “Well... yeah. You knew that when you told your dad we'd take the house. …..SO???”

Zoe stopped a minute. I could see her gathering her thoughts... thinking just how to frame this.... “It's just.... I just realized how much effort you put into being ...Tom....”

I shot her a querulous look. “Your point being?....”

“Why do you bother? Just dump Tom already and be Chloe ….be yourself... full-time.”

I don't think Zoe was expecting my pained expression. “I'm not ….there yet....” I sighed. “There are still some ….advantages.... to having Tom …..available....”

To my surprise, Zoe grinned and nodded. “Believe it or not, I get it. Even if Tom is really the disguise....” and she raised an eyebrow as she scanned the bathroom where I was 'putting on Tom' for the day “...and a hell of a lot of work.... It's a mask.... you can put it on and become invisibro” She grinned at her own made-up word. “Let's face it, Chloe always turns heads, even in sweats and no makeup you turn heads....” she chuckled “I can't tell you how many bitches you really piss off with that easy-breezy covergirl thing you've got going” she smirked and paused, obviously remembering some incident or other, but then got back on track “no one pays any attention to fucking Tom... unless someone wants to I.D. you because, seriously..... Tom looks, like 15 or some shit.”

I nodded. “That's why I go to all this trouble.” I scowled waving my hand over my jawline.

“Yeah. Pretty convincing beard shadow.” Zoe conceded.

I nodded. I was relieved that even though Zoe knew it was really cosmetic, that she agreed it was convincing.

“You still look like a 15 year old.... just one who shaves.” She laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “It gets the job done. Since I learned how to paint on Tom, I've had far less attention paid... and that's all I want. To work without customers and coworkers trying to flirt or getting overly personal. Tom lets me disappear. And I'm not yet ready to give up that super-power.” I grinned, trying to lighten up this surprisingly heavy subject.

“So while bitches I know call their makeup routine 'War Paint', yours is actually camouflage!” Zoe laughed.

“Pretty much.” I smiled. “It lets me fade right into the background.”

“Fair enough invisibro.” she laughed. “Get back to it. Don't let me make you late for work..... if they even fuckin' notice when you show up!” she leered.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. I'll be thru in a few, then it's all yours.”

“I'm not waiting for you bitch!” Zoe laughed, then proceeded to spin around to the toilet and pee. “Keep the sink as long as you want.”

“I'll be done in time for you to wash your hands.” I laughed as I put the finishing touches on 'Tom'.

Zoe spun her head around, scanning the bathroom. “Who said that? I could have sworn someone was here a moment ago....”

I laughed politely at her lame joke and wandered back to my room to dress for work.

I was pulling a 'hell sandwich' as I called days when I worked a split 6-9A and 4-7P shift at the courier company and squeezed Office Oasis into the middle. It was also my day for dinner so I swung by the coffee shop to see if I could get away with Chinese take out.

“Don't worry about it” Tina waved it off. “You're off the hook tonight. We're going out.”

“We?” I raised an eyebrow. Then I flinched as Zoe punched my arm from behind. I turned to her wicked grin. “Yeah. WE.” and she motioned to a table where a grinning Jeannie waved at us. She was sitting with her scary friend JoAnn.

“Jeannie called and invited us to cheer on JoAnn's derby team tonight.”

“...umm The Hellians?” I grasped

“Hells Belles.” Tina corrected.

“They're going up against 'Slamazon Prime' ” Zoe grinned. “I've seen them.... they're fucking monsters. This is gonna be good.” She cackled.

Tina looked apologetic. “Jeannie invited us.... um, I mean me and Chloe.... but the match starts at seven and I knew Tom worked til 7 and wouldn't get home until after 8 so.... I asked Zoe.”

I gave her a resigned smile. “Yeah. It's probably more Zoe's speed anyway.”

“Hell yeah!” Zoe laughed. “Anyway, you weren't invited bro.” She shot me that evil grin she always used when torturing Tom.

“Who's not invited?” JoAnn asked as she and Jeannie approached us.

Zoe cocked a thumb at me. “This one's trying to barnacle himself into our girl's night.”

“I was n....” I started to protest, but Zoe cut me off.

“Give it up bro... you're not coming.”

Jeannie shot me a look and turned to Zoe. “Nobody said anything about a girls night....”

“It's OK. I'm working anyway. Thanks for the invite though.” I shrugged to Jeannie.

JoAnn leaned in and extended her hand. I thought I was prepared for it this time, but she still crushed my hand like a walnut. “No. You should come anyway. Even late. We could always use an extra paying spectator.....” she looked at me expectantly. I knew what she was waiting for. Before I could answer, I heard Zoe snort a laugh.

“Fuckin' Tom.” she laughed.

JoAnn shot me a long look. We had only met that one time at Sous Vide. And that night she met Chloe. After a tense pause she finally addressed me deadpan.

“So you go by your middle name?” she smirked.

I stared at her like a confused Golden Retriever.

“Tom... or are you maybe F. Tom?” she grinned. I turned to scowl at Zoe.

“Tom's fine.” I finally mumbled. Everyone else seemed quite amused. I don't know whether it was with Zoe's foul mouth or the fact that only JoAnn didn't know about Tom & Chloe.

Jeannie rushed in. “I'm sorry. So rude of me. Tom, this is my friend JoAnn.” I nodded. She hadn't twigged and I had no intention telling her in the crowded coffee shop.

“So how do you know.... who do you know?” JoAnn began, Jeannie cut her off.

“We went to school together. Arts.”

JoAnn nodded blankly. That still didn't explain why I ran into them at the coffee shop.

“And I came by to ask Tina about dinner plans.” Totally true. Zoe wasn't working that day and I was surprised to see her. I'm sure JoAnn took this as something else.

“So you & Tina?” she began to ask.

I shrugged “It's complicated.” Tina and Jeannie laughed. Zoe snorted.

“Usually is.” JoAnn muttered.

I knew Tina wouldn't spill until I told her it was OK, and I knew she'd keep Zoe quiet by any means necessary. I didn't mind JoAnn knowing, but I wanted to handle it in my own way. I just hadn't decided how yet. I knew this was not the place or time.

“Still.... you should come anyway. If there's no one at the ticket counters, ask one of the door guys. They'll find someone to take your money.” JoAnn laughed.

“So late is ok....” Tina mused aloud.

JoAnn shrugged. “A ticket's a ticket. Better than not coming at all.”

Tina nodded. “I wish I knew. I would've told Chloe....” she muttered, then turning to me, grinned “See that she gets the message, OK?” I smiled and nodded. Zoe snorted and Jeannie just followed our conversation with her eyes and a stupid grin.

JoAnn didn't seem to notice. “Why don't you just call her yourself?” she asked Tina.

We both responded in unison “It's complicated.” Zoe snorted. Jeannie squelched her laugh.

JoAnn shrugged. “Whatever. You should both come.” she said to me.

I smiled noncommittally. “We'll see. But right now, it's back to work.” I made my way to my bike and headed off for my next pickup.

As it turned out, I didn't go at all. My last run was a priority pickup at the far fringe of our service area, with the recipient at the other end of town. Normally we'd tag-team something like this and I would hand it off to a coworker in midtown, but it was near the end of the day and most had already come off their routes. Deirdre the dispatcher told me they were getting serious cash for this last minute priority run and I would be well compensated for my trouble. So I bore down and did the run. The recipient stayed open late to receive the package and seemed grateful and relieved. The desk guard handed me an envelope, saying 'for your trouble', and I knew it was a gratuity. I normally didn't accept tips, figuring it was a slippery slope of folks trying to 'jump the line' and prioritize their own items in the delivery queue. Still, after what I went through to get it delivered and how far it took me past my usual quitting time, I graciously accepted the envelope.

It was a crazy large tip. What I'd normally make in a day at both my jobs. I was happy to get it, but too exhausted to even think of what I'd want to do with the money. I just made my way home, peeled the day off me and drew a steaming, relaxing bath.

“I found her!” Tina yelled, startling me awake. I was instantly struck by how cold I was as by brain rebooted and I realized I must have fallen asleep in the tub. I opened the drain and ran the hot water to quickly raise the tub from tepid to toasty. The spray from the spigot also rejuvenated the bubbles from the bath oils, so I quickly regained some modesty sprawled in the tub as a leering Zoe joined us in the bathroom.

“Can't a person get a little privacy?” I mock pouted as Zoe came to stand beside a grinning Tina.

“Sure” grinned Tina. “Just don't fall asleep in a public place.”

“Naked” leered Zoe.

“This is NOT a public place!” I protested.

“No. It's a shared space.” smiled Tina.

“And you're hogging it.” grinned Zoe.

“Sorry.” I smiled apologetically. “I had a kind of brutal day and I wanted to soak out the kinks. I must have been more tired than I knew.” I shrugged.

“Don't talk to us about brutal after what we just witnessed.” Tina laughed.

My brain finally finished booting. “...right.... So how was Roller Derby?”

“Intense” Tina said at the same time Zoe blurted out “Awesome.” They turned to each other, grinning.

“So who won?” I grinned.

They looked at each other querulously, then both returned to face me and shrugged with a guilty smile.

“Were you not paying any attention?” I grinned at the two of them.

“Of course we were.” Zoe replied defensively. She then held up her hand and began counting off fingers. “There were at least two concussions. A broken shinbone and a couple of sprains.... had to be carried off the track. ...oh... and gallons of blood.” she beamed.

Tina shrugged. “I spent most of my time people watching.” she broke into a smile “I have enough material for a good few years of Plague Diaries.”

I laughed. “So maybe I made the right choice....”

“...falling asleep in the tub?” Tina raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “I obviously needed the rest...” I offered sheepishly.

Tina grunted a laugh.

“After the match, JoAnn suggested we call Chloe & all meet up for drinks” Tina said “but I begged off since I have early classes. Even Zoe didn't protest too much.” she grinned.

Zoe shrugged. “Yeah. It was a fun night. But I was done. I just wanted to get back to my room.” she tossed it off casually, but Tina and I exchanged glances.

Tina quickly regrouped. “Are you almost done here? Because I really need to pee.”

I smiled an apology and reached for a towel as Zoey proclaimed “screw THAT.” and spinning to the toilet, proceeded to whip down her jeans and plop down to loudly pee. Shooting me a grin, she said “if your delicate senses are offended, look away. I'm not waiting on you to haul yourself out of the tub so I can pee in peace. If you can't handle it, that's your problem.” she challenged.

I said nothing. I just stared into her eyes. “Do what you need to do. Not shocked. Not embarrassed. Not interested. Period.” I stood, taking subtle care to keep my ...incongruity... tucked back behind my tightly clenched legs.

Tina leaned in “You missed a really ….interesting... night.”

I quirked an eyebrow.

She waited for Zoe to finish and leave while I stood shivering in my towel.

“I'm not 100% sure, but I think JoAnn thinks ….I'm trans....” she whispered.

I cocked my head and stared at her blankly while I tried to process this. Finally I nodded.

“You met at Sous Vide with my other friends.... You & Jeannie hit it off and she invited you to go to Roller Derby with them.... She knows you share a house with Chloe...”

Tina nodded, grinning. “And Zoe – who is almost as wild as JoAnn....”

I nodded. “OK. I can see how she got there.”

“AND I think she thinks I'm dating Tom!” Tina smirked.

I jerked my head back like a startled chicken. I didn't see THAT coming. “What on earth gave you that impression?”

Tina said “remember back at Kool Beanz when you said... when TOM said... he came by to ask me about dinner...?” Her smile was mischievous.

I nodded, recalling the encounter.

Tina continued “And she asked 'So you and Tina....' and Tom replied.....”

“It's complicated.” I groaned and rolled my eyes.

“And SHE replied...” Tina said with a finger to the air and an expectant look....

I stared back at her blankly. I either hadn't heard or hadn't paid attention.

Realizing I was clueless, Tina stared me in the eyes and muttered “...always is.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. I was sure Tina was right. I groaned quietly.

Tina's laugh surprised me. “I know I always used to make fun of you for your 'It's complicated' catchphrase, but living with you, I'm beginning to understand. Your friend Jeannie's friend JoAnn, who I met at the club with Chloe and her friends.... thinks I'm dating TOM... who she doesn't know is Chloe... and may or may not know that I am transgender ...or so she thinks.” Tina grinned shaking her head.

“Forget Plague Diaries.... I want to start writing this!” she laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “My life is not fodder for your muse.” I grimaced. “Can we talk about this in the morning please?”

Tina smiled and nodded. “Oh, we WILL.... I've been itching to do something completely different from Plague Diaries.... to show that I have more than one story to tell.... more than one ….flavor.” She actually seemed to taste the word in her mouth and subtly nodded her approval with it. “It never occurred to me that the story could be taking place under my own roof!” she beamed.

I sighed. “Please. In the morning> I'm exhausted. We'll talk about it then.” I squeezed past her and padded to my room.
“Count on it!” she said loudly down the hall.

We'd have a lot to talk about in the morning. But at the moment, neither of us had any inkling of what lay ahead.

The smoke alarms startled us awake. I ran into the hall in my sleep tee and panties and was quickly joined by Tina in her large flannel shirt and fleece gym shorts. We stared at each other - each trying to bootstrap our brains. After a moment we noticed we were alone.

“Is Zoe here???” I shouted over the pulsing klaxon.

Tina shook her head and mouthed “I don't know” but we couldn't hear a thing over the painful din.

Using hand gestures as much as speech, I indicated I would check the alarm and urged her to check on Zoe.

Fortunately, I have a kind of OCD like obsession to know how things work, so it wasn't long after we moved in that I actually read the instruction manual for the sophisticated zoned alarm system. There was a panel in a utility closet near the washer/dryer that had the breaker box, various utility gizmos and the master alarm panel. I opened the front panel and muted the alarm. I instantly understood the phrase 'the silence was deafening'. My ears still rang from the painful klaxons, but my ears were so desensitized by the loud alarms, normal background sounds disappeared into the velvet mist below my assaulted threshold of hearing. I looked at the LED panel and saw the sensor that tripped the alarm; the master bedroom. Zoe's room. Maybe she left a hotplate or something on before she left? If she were still here, she would have joined us in the hall. I scowled at the thought that Tina and I would have to invade her privacy, if only to prevent burning down her father's house.

I went upstairs to find Tina banging at Zoe's room, calling loudly through the door.

“I don't think she's here.” She shrugged.

“No. I guess not. But the sensor that tripped the alarm is in that room.” I scowled, glancing at Zoe's door. “We have to break in.”

Tina didn't look any happier than I did. The door was locked. Of course. Not that either of us had ever even tried it before, but we couldn't imagine Zoe ever leaving her private space unlocked.

No surprise we made little progress with the door. Neither of us was built to Kool-Aid Smash through the door, sending splinters flying. I had already grabbed a fire extinguisher, presuming we may need it for whatever we found on the other side.

I held my hand to the door, feeling for heat. I'd seen too many movies where a fireball explodes as people break through and the fresh air causes a violent flare of a starving conflagration. The door seemed cool, so Tina and I took turns battering it with the fire extinguisher. Zoe would be really angry we broke into her room, and her father would be angry that we destroyed his fancy wooden door, but maybe his anger would be tempered if we managed to save his fancy house.

We shattered a hole small enough to fit an arm through, Tina felt her way around and undid the deadbolt, and finally we got the door opened.

And rushed into the room with the extinguisher - only to stop cold.

There was no fire. Clearly there HAD been a fire, because the room was filled with acrid smoke and there was a large soot stain on the ceiling. It looked like a piece of lacy fabric had caught fire and burned itself up. Judging by the singe marks, it fluttered too close to a large photo flood bulb on a C-stand. The source of the fire had consumed itself, but not before setting off the alarms. Or maybe it was the burning insulation smell of the thick smoke that lingered in the air that set them off. But that was the least of it.

Tina and I stood, bewildered, in front of a writhing Zoe, heaving with violent coughs, lashed into some macabre heaving contraption. My mind usually doesn't go there, but trying to wrap my head around this complicated and ominous looking device, I struggled unsuccessfully to come up with any other description than ….steampunk sex machine.

Zoe's outfit only enhanced this image. Bits of constricting leather and rubber with lots of shiny brass and chrome fixtures holding her collared neck, waist, wrists and ankles into this macabre machine, being bent in ways I didn't know the human body could bend - by pulleys and brightly colored ropes. And what the hydraulic apparatus of the machine was trying to DO to her... I guess successfully doing to her... I didn't even want to think about!

Her head was sealed inside something that looked like a giant black beach ball, with a screw-on accordion-style vacuum hose leading to a pleated rubber bag that was ballooning and collapsing with her violent coughs.

After a moment to collect our wits, Tina and I scrambled over to the device and tried to extricate Zoe. Tina tried to unfasten all the restraints while I searched for how to switch off all the ...erm... pumps and motors. I finally noticed a heavy duty cord that fed a splitter box and I yanked it from the wall. The gizmo shuddered to a stop and I heard a large click as Zoe's brass and chrome restraints fell away from the machine. Tina and I gingerly got the other parts of the machine ...out of her, and tried to sit her up. Tina went to remove the beach ball thing from her head, but Zoe broke away from her and scrambled to her feet, tripping over a light-stand and running straight into a wall. Tina guided her to the door, she stumbled out into the hall, then struggled to get the contraption off her head.

“What the FUCK????” she whispered, her voice trembling with rage.

“Yeah! What the fuck???” Tina shot back, hands on her hips in fury.

“You fucking broke into my room!!!” She snapped in a hoarse whisper.

“You set off the fire alarms.” I pointed out. “Lucky we disabled the auto-911 feature when we moved into the empty house, or you'd be having this argument with firemen.”

Zoe scowled, but calmed ever so slightly. She glared at us and held up a finger as she backed into her room. A moment later the bright lights went out. A moment after that our finally recovering hearing heard the sudden silence as her computer's fans shut down.

She stormed back into the hall and bellowed at us “You had NO fucking RIGHT!” her accusatory finger trembling with rage.

“We thought the house was on fire!” Tina shot back, getting more agitated and sure to soon meet the calming Zoe at the emotional halfway point.

“I checked the master panel. It was your room. Look at the smoke.”

“I'm fucking aware of the smoke!” Zoe glowered, and I finally noticed the hoarseness in her voice.

“Well, we HAD to do something!” Tina snapped. “We weren't going to burn the house down!”

“And what if we weren't home?” I cried, suddenly alarmed at the realization.

“Well, then, I guess I'd have become fucking legend.” Zoe muttered with a wry grin.

“Would you like to explain just what the hell is going on?” I demanded.

“No.” Said Zoe with fire in her eyes.

“Well, tough. You nearly burned the house down. And we had to invade your private space to save your sorry ass. So 'NO' doesn't cut it.” Tina said to her with a fearsome authority I instantly recognized from her dad.

Zoe scowled at us. Winced at a small cough and muttered “I need a fucking drink” pushing past us and making her way to the stairs.

We sat around the breakfast station until the sun rose. I called in sick to work and Tina blew off classes. Zoe talked. But it was like pulling teeth.

“God, I feel like a gitmo inquisitor.” I glared at Zoe. Then I muttered “only no bright lights and tying to a chair. I've had enough of that for one night.”

Zoe snorted and I saw a smirk flash across her face.

“Look. We respect your privacy.” Tina said.

“Until you almost burn the house down.” I snarked.

Zoe just rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Fine. FINE. What the fuck do you want to know?”

“Uh... what the hell is going on?” Tina cocked her head, but her voice betrayed more demand than curiosity.

Zoe sighed and told us about “Slipknot Siouxsie”. A character she created on AOL chat as a dorky 11 year old. Originally just an alter ego with no self esteem issues, she was the superhero under the self-conscious teen with severe body image issues. As she grew and became more worldly as a teen, so did her online alter ego. Slipknot Sioux became a wicked flirt in online chat. Over the years the chat evolved from simply flirty to downright raunchy. Meanwhile, Slipknot Sioux was becoming a bad influence on Daddy's little mathlete. She rebelled as a teen and her father never figured out the bad influence on his little girl was actually her online alter ego. After a few close encounters with some creepers, and a funny story about one relationship she eventually figured had to be one of those seamy TV news show predator traps, and how she punked them really good, getting two different 'perv-hunters' each pretending to be teens, trying to entrap and arrest the other.

The sexy talk eventually evolved into sexy cam photos after she turned 18, but Zoe always protected her privacy. As she got older and more daring, and tech got more advanced, she kept pushing the envelope, to the point where she became a live-stream cam-girl, performing pre-negotiated scenarios for subscription audiences like some X-rated pay per view.

It paid really really well, but she pumped most of her profits back into the business on wardrobe and props. Like that crazy stuff we stormed in on.

In fact she had a number of different personae – each with a specific kink. She described it as how Coke and Sprite and Fanta were all brands of the same sugar-water company. She had dom & sub characters, male and female (and in-between) characters, gay & straight characters, and subdivisions of stuff like rubber, leather, plushplay (furries) and activities from med fet to rope bondage – her original thing & first persona, watersports, breathplay, electro, etc. She was always looking for new edgy 'performance genres' to use online. Which is why she frequented the kink clubs, networking & looking for fresh ideas. Zoe, it turns out, always worked alone, being ultra paranoid about her privacy. Her 'co-stars' were real-doll type mannequins which she macguyvered into animatronic type figures that seemed to have rising/falling chests so they appeared to be breathing. She performed the most active person in the scenario and the dummies stood in as passive doubles for her other characters. It really was performance art disguised as porn. By some point she built a stable of characters of varying genders ages and phenotypes.

It let her scratch her wild itch, AND keep her anonymity. Which is why she freaked when Tina tried to remove that beachball headgear in her room before her cameras. Zoe scowled that we may have revealed our faces to her pay per view pervs, but maybe the smoke was so thick and the movement so frantic that they didn't see much of anything.

She grumbled that she would need to contact all the subscribers to last night's 'performance' and offer them a refund since it was interrupted and veered from the script as soon as the lighting rig set the backdrop on fire. She said she would check the recording to see if it clearly captured either of our faces.

She then yawned and stretched and asked us if our inquisition was done. She slouched upstairs to her room saying she had a lot to clean up and she was exhausted.

“Not to mention sore?” I raised an eyebrow.

Zoe shrugged. “You'd be amazed what you can get used to.” She said dryly.

Tina and I spent a few more hours chatting.

Tina was poking at her iPhone. She must have been doing web searches. “So our roomie is a notorious cam-girl.” She muttered wryly.

“So it seems.” I said, still not sure how I felt about that, but knowing I couldn't afford to move even if I wanted to.

“Apparently a very famous notorious cam-girl.” Tina smirked, still poking at her phone. “You might say, she's kind of cam-girl royalty....”

“Princess Zoe?” I snorted.

Tina grinned. “More like her exalted highness the Sovereign Slipknot Sioux.”

“All bow down before her.” I laughed. Tina snorted.

“I think her subjects would be thrilled to.” she quipped.

“Oh well, Live and let live. It's not illegal.” I shrugged. Then I turned to Tina. “...is it?”

Tina shook her head with a smile. “...Not everywhere, anyway...”

“OK. So our roomie has her private life... her not blatantly illegal private life... with other consenting adults of their mutual choosing....” I scowled slightly.

“Live and let live?” Tina smiled halfheartedly.

I nodded and returned her woeful smile.

Zoe was right about one thing. It's amazing what you can get used to. Over time, our relationship with our quirky roomie became gradually less awkward and eventually we found ourselves back at that place we had been when we all moved in. Then the relationship continued growing closer. Now that her secret was out, Zoe felt free to grumble to us about 'work'.... about some of the stuff her clients tried to pull and tell the painfully awkward – but always funny – story from time to time.

It even got to the point where I found Zoe and Tina heads down around the table in our dining room. Zoe asked Tina's help as a creative writing major to 'fix' a scene people were asking for that just didn't seem right to her but she couldn't pinpoint why.

Tina actually got into it, smiling that it was another 'new genre' to master, and she felt a bit naughty, yet exhilarated, helping Zoe script out these steamy performance scenes.

Zoe kept telling Tina she should help. Not as a subject so much as a bit-part as a minion. Zoe persuaded Tina by saying she could write much more ambitious scenes if she was there to help Zoe get in and out of her various predicaments. Zoe admitted that having to do them all singlehandedly really limited the scope of her canvas. Zoe sold Tina and got her started really slowly, just handing wardrobe pieces to Zoe occasionally zipping an armbinder or cinching a corset.

I could see that Zoe was getting Tina to dip her toes in and warned her that eventually she may find herself doing tag teams with Zoe. Tina laughed and shrugged it off.

One day Tina approached me sheepishly.

“I really wish you would join Zoe and me.”

I smiled and shook my head 'no chance'.

“No no no. We don't want you to do scenes. And if you'll notice, even I resisted that temptation miss 'corrupting influence'” she taunted with a smile.

I smiled back.

“But it IS a temptation! I had no idea how much money these guys will pay just to watch random strangers on the internet. It's sick.”

“Yes it is.” I smiled primly.

“No!” Tina laughed. “I mean YES.... yeah.... it is kinda sick... especially some of the stuff they ask for.... but no, I mean the money is sick. A sick amount.”

“So why is Tina still drawing tall lattes at 5AM?” I teased.

“Why did Clark Kent take a desk job?” she shrugged.

“Comic nerd.” I snorted.

“And THAT's what I wanted to talk to you about!....” Tina grinned.

It didn't really take too much arm twisting to get me on board. When Tina talked about her crazy idea, I found her enthusiasm contagious. Zoe was cool with it. In fact Tina thought that she was secretly flattered but would never admit it.

Tina handed me some rough story pages and in a couple of days I handed her my surface tablet with the finished artwork pages. Zoe had some suggestions, and Tina took another pass, but in a little over a week the first issue of 'Camgirl Chronicles' was online.

I'm not sure what came faster, our subscriber numbers or Tina's fresh pages.

It was a crazy kind of feedback loop. Or maybe more of a nuclear chain reaction. But the alt.art success of Camgirl Chronicles ended up getting art and comic nerds to Google Slipknot Sioux. They seemed stunned that there was a real character with that name and some folks emailed Zoe's alias 'warning' her that someone had stolen her brand and was using it to peddle a comic series. Zoe let them know that it was an authorized use of her brand, that she was flattered someone thought she deserved to be immortalized in print, since she was basically a performance-artist, and her own ephemeral artworks only lived in whatever she could burn into the minds of her live subscribers. She claimed to steal some ideas from the comic (although in truth it was an active collaboration with Tina) and admitted that some of the stuff in the comic came from actual incidents she shared with the writers, and challenged them to guess which were which.

It seemed like the writers and the subject of the comic were aware of each other and in occasional contact.

If anyone had any idea we all lived under the same roof, their brains probably would have exploded.

Tina gave Slipknot Sioux a backstory very different from Zoe, and I took great pains to portray her as equally fierce, but physically quite different from Zoe. I did have the good sense to collaborate with Zoe so her animated alter ego was exactly who Zoe wanted to be but wasn't. Tall and blonde and curvy and fearless, a high powered executive at a conservative Washington think tank. Part of Tina's devilish backstory was Sioux recognizing lots of the 'stuffed suits' she dealt with in her day job, and them having no inkling of her alter ego.

I also realized early on, that that first awkward conversation I had with Tina's dad was because he thought I was 'Slipknot Sioux' not Sue. I had to grin when I realized that after all this time, her housemate had become an influence on Tina ...though not in the corrupting way he imagined. I wondered what Frank Aldone made of 'Camgirl Chronicles'. I had zero doubt that he was aware of it. He didn't miss much, and he watched over 'his little girl' ...if only discreetly and from afar. I swallowed hard. I couldn't imagine my own father watching out for me.

It was a cultural tradition. A rite of passage and self-discovery. I doubt the elders who began the tradition ever imagined this.

Chapter 1

My name was Levi Miller. I was born and raised in a small Mennonite farming community in the Ohio River Valley. You may have seen me. Maybe on the back of a milk carton. Or maybe on the cover of your favorite magazine's swimsuit issue. I currently go by Alexandra Crowe. My journey from my roots to my present was unexpected. Yet in hindsight it seems inevitable.

Let's start from the beginning. Among my people we have a ritual – a rite of passage actually, called Rumspringa. It is in effect, the sewing of wild oats... where adolescents transition from the innocent curiosity of childhood into the wisdom and responsibility of adulthood. We leave our tight knit and somewhat insulated community and make our way in the secular world, taking nothing of our culture except what we carry in our hearts. It is a test. To make our way amid all the pitfalls and temptations of the secular world, and to return to the community... tempered by adversity, having seen the allure of the secular world as a seductive mirage. Ready to settle down and become the next generation of our community, no longer distracted by the siren call of the outside world. Like all tests, the outcome is not forgone. Most return, wiser and with a renewed appreciation for the community they always took for granted. Others succumb to the ways of the secular world. And some of us discover that not only is the outside world not what we expected... but we never even knew ourselves. This is a story of revelation and self discovery... and an adventure I never could have imagined.

The six of us set out together. Usually teens venture into Rumspringa in a group. It's believed to help us ground each other and keep one individual's bad decision from having catastrophic or irretrievable results. The peer pressure of a co-ed group is thought to prevent any girls-gone-wild or frat-boy type reckless excesses. At least that's the idea. I've been told in secret by others that what happens on Rumspringa stays in the outside world, and that by the time it is over, everyone in the group has so much dirt on everyone else, all agree to never speak of it again. Even those who don't return are not discussed by others in their group. It is simply known that they did not return. None of their peers is even asked, and would never dream of spilling sordid details. I do sometimes wonder how my group manages to keep my fate a secret. I wonder if Temperance or Felicity see me smiling out at them from a magazine cover and smile quietly to themselves. If not for their sense of mischief and adventure, I would probably have returned with them to live out my life as that vaguely sad little farm boy everyone remembers.

For the first hundred miles or so of our bus journey, none of us really talked. I had nothing left to say to Jakob and Seth that we hadn't argued about in all the years we grew up together. The girls kept looking over at us and giggling. They were alien creatures to us. We lived separate lives. The boys working in the fields and barns, the girls in the homes and dairy. We were kept apart by convention, then tossed all together at Rumspringa and expected to learn the ways of the world and ideally return with our mate for life. I don't know if the girls were as lost as we were. They seemed shy but excited. I got the definite impression that they were talking about us among other things. I kept seeing their furtive glances in our direction. We all wanted to break the ice, but had no idea how. Rather than do something clumsy and stupid, we did nothing. Finally, they glanced at each other, removed their kerchiefs and walked over to us. “You know everyone on the bus is staring at you.”

“What?” Suddenly Jakob, Seth and I were very self conscious. “Why? We're not the ones giggling loudly!”

“No...” Felicity chirped up. “But look around.... you're so out of place. Your clothes, your hats, and those haircuts. You are not from their world and everyone knows it.”

“Neither are you. Just uncovering your hair doesn't make you fit in any better.”

“That is why we're going to do something about it. We're getting off at the next stop. It's close to a mall. If we're going to walk among them in their world, I think we all need a makeover!” Temperance and Chastity nodded vigorously. Seth and Jakob exchanged glances.

“That's really a good idea” Seth conceded. “OK. Next stop we ditch the bus and hit the mall”. At 17, he wasn't the oldest, but even though Jakob was a few months older, we all tacitly thought of Seth as the leader.

“But what about our bus tickets?” I opined.

“We'll try to cash them in. If we can't, we'll just figure out what to do after we shop.”

“How much money do you have?” I could tell I was beginning to annoy the others. As the youngest by many years, I was used to it.

“Enough.” Jakob snapped. “At worst, we buy another ticket the rest of the way to Chicago.”

“Chicago? I thought we were going to California?” We were only a few hours from home and I was already feeling totally lost.

Seth sighed as if talking to a slow child. “Yes. California eventually. Chicago is the first leg. We explore the windy city and decide where to go next.... with California as the eventual destination.”

“But my ticket is for California. I spent most of my money on it.”

Temperance rolled her eyes. “Did you just roll out the eggchute? Just plan the next move. Plans change. We talked about this!”

“Nobody talked to ME about this!”

Seth and Jakob glanced at each other. “I thought you talked to him.” They said in unison. Then they both looked at me and shrugged.

Temperance let out an exasperated sigh. “You should have stayed on the farm. ….Alright. How much do you have left after your extravagant bus ticket?”

I reached into my bag and pulled out all the money I had saved.

“That's IT?” Seth glared. “Haven't you been saving?”

“About 3 years less than you have” Felicity wisely pointed out.

“I guess you're not buying anything at the mall.” Jakob smirked.

“That's ok.” Felicity volunteered. “He can come with us. While you boys go get all studly, we'll take him along as a sounding board for what will turn a young man's head.”

“He wouldn't know 'hot' if he were standing in a brushfire” Jakob laughed. “Good. You let 'little brother' tag along to the dress shops while Seth and I get fashionable and ply our charms on the local ladies”

The girls all began giggling derisively.

Chapter 2

I really did feel like a little brother being dragged along by good natured sisters. I sensed no resentment, but I kept getting the feeling that they were forgetting I was there. I definitely was not one of the group. Then again, I didn't expect to be.

The girls ditched their traditional gray dresses as soon as possible. The first stop was a GAP and they all changed into jeans and colorful tops. I had seen plenty of girls in pants when we'd go into town for supplies, so it was less startling for me to see them as it was for them to actually wear pants. I was amused that they were so excited to be dressed the way I'd dressed all of my life. I said nothing to them about this but couldn't help but notice that the 4 of us were now dressed very much alike.

When they passed the window at a store called “Wet Seal” they were transfixed. They eagerly scampered in and started tearing through the racks, trying on outfit after outfit, and huddling with each other after every outfit was modeled for each other. Finally, Temperance – perhaps noticing that I had been quietly tagging along – diplomatically asked my opinion. I muttered something about how they seemed so excited at the novelty of wearing silly old pants and were now eager to get back into dresses... even if these outfits had nothing in common with the dresses they were so tired of from their old lives. Felicity was saying something about the excitement of breaking old taboos and experiencing something new when a salesgirl came over and complimented everyone on their choices, finally turning to me and pouting. “What about you, dear? Don't you see anything you like? Not that your old baggy jeans aren't …sensible”. I turned beet red at her error and was about to explain her mistake when Felicity butted in. “Lee's just really shy and has no clue how pretty she really is.” Grinning at her friends she grabbed something off the rack and thrust it at me. “As you were scolding us just a moment ago, it's time to break taboos and try something new. Isn't that what our trip is all about?” I started to protest, but the three of them ganged up on me and I backed down, since my private embarrassment at being the butt of their little joke seemed less awkward than causing a scene in the store.

It was a lot tighter and smaller than I expected. By the time I got the dress on, it looked as if it had been painted on my body. The bulge was a bit disconcerting, but I quickly discovered that I could pop the bits up inside and fold the main bit back between my legs. I stood at the door to the dressing room, afraid to turn the knob, while the girls taunted me from outside. “Hurry up! What's taking so long? It's just a dress for goodness sake. What part of putting your head and arms through the holes can't you manage? Why aren't you dressed yet?”

“I'm dressed.” I muttered quietly hoping no one could hear me, while I hesitated at the doorknob.

The knob flew out of my hand as Felicity whipped the door open from the outside. I closed my eyes with dread. As if by not being able to see them, they couldn't see me. I waited for the howls of derisive laughter. But after an excruciating silence, which was probably only seconds although it felt like minutes. I slowly cracked one eyelid.

I was met by 3 gaping stares and a smiling salesclerk.

“Oh honey. You HAVE to get this. It was MADE for you!” the clerk gushed.

“I... uh. I don't think...” I struggled for some response to this unexpected reaction.

“Oh my God.” Temperance whispered, apparently to herself.

“Thanks so much for your help. Can we have a few minutes to talk?” Felicity said to the clerk, who backed off. Chastity just stared, wide-eyed.

“Wow. I certainly wasn't expecting ….THIS!” Felicity mused as she looked me up and down.

“Is this how you felt the first time you wore pants?” I peeped.

“I seriously doubt it.” Temperance said. “No one stopped in their tracks when they saw me in jeans. Just look around the store. If looks could kill, this would be a crime scene.”

“I knew this was a bad idea. I never should have agreed....”

“It's not scorn or disapproval, stupid. It's envy.” Felicity whispered. “Girls. I have an idea. You, wait here” I made my way back toward the dressing room when Felicity barked at me “NO! Stay. ...Sit.” I sheepishly sat on the tiny bench, knees clenched together and hands folded in my lap as if I could hide how short the dress was.

After a moment they returned, all serious and stared down at me. Having three sets of eyes bore into you, it's difficult to know who to raise your eyes to.

“Change of plan.” Temperance said. “We're still going shopping and the mission is still total makeover, but you're no longer an observer.”

“I'm out?”

Felicity laughed. “I'd say you couldn't be more out!” Temperance elbowed her in the rib.

“No. You're not out of the group. You're not out of the makeover mission. In fact, you're the new focus.”

Chastity spoke up. “Don't blame me. I was outvoted. I'm sorry”

“I don't have any money. I can't afford new things. Anyway, I thought you only wanted to visit hot dress shops?”

“She still doesn't get it” Temperance said to Felicity.

“Who?” I asked, looking toward Chastity, who just looked at her feet and shuffled nervously.

“You!” Felicity beamed “This is ...amazing! I never noticed when you were just the scrawny farmboy at school, but you have a fantastic body. ….for a girl.”

“But...”

“OK. It's settled. We'll all chip in, and Levi …..Lee.... is our new makeover project. Right?”

Chastity sighed. “I'm really sorry, Lee... I mean Levi. I was outvoted.”

Felicity was positively GLEEFUL. “Alright. We'll tell the guys that Levi got bored and we gave him money for a movie or something.... and while we were shopping, we met this really cool girl, and she joined us on our shopping spree.”

What was I getting myself into? I felt just like Chastity. Outvoted. It never occurred to me at the time, that if she and I both spoke up, it would have been a stalemate. Things quickly got out of hand. They bought my dress and went a little crazy with accessories, like thong underwear since the dress was so sheer and tight that anything else would show through. The clerk commented on my 'supermodel physique' which I quickly learned meant nearly flat chested (nearly?). She suggested – and the other girls enthusiastically agreed, that a push-up bra and 'chicken cutlets' - silicone wedges to prop up the real boobs, would really compliment the dress. Opaque thigh highs and some precariously tall heels finished up the ensemble. They must have noticed I was shivering like a chihuahua in the skimpy dress, because they bought me a bolero jacket to go with it. They then dragged me to this place called “The Cuttery” to do something with my shaggy hair. Dad had been too busy to do it, and after the last disaster, I reckoned it was better to let it grow and tuck it down my collar than to try cutting it myself again. I could hide it down my collar, but once I had that skimpy dress on, everyone saw just how far down my back it had grown. Temperance and Felicity huddled with the stylist, who took all instructions from the three girls who were paying him. They just kept thumbing through a photobook and giggling at me mischievously. I was so overwhelmed at this point that I just sat back and closed my eyes, sitting through the shampoo and cut, foil and highlighting, styling and drying.... waiting for it to be over. Before I even got a chance to get a look at myself in the mirror, they yanked me away to the MAC store, where again, I was merely the subject of their instructions to the makeup stylist. The only time I opened my eyes was when she was applying eyeliner. The rest of the time I closed my eyes trying to stay calm and hoping I would wake up. I don't recall ever sensing smells in dreams, so I was reminded that this was real when I was hit with a blast of flowery perfume, which they then tucked into the handbag they bought me, and we were off to Accessorease... a store which seemed to sell mostly trendy jewelry and baubles. I thought I was done when my arms were draped in bracelets, I had rings on various fingers and a choker necklace that everyone agreed, looked like it was made for the dress. My three tormentors huddled again. I could see Chastity shaking her head vigorously, so I knew something was being planned. But as before, my one defender was outvoted.

Temperance put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye with a very earnest expression. “Do you trust us?”

“Why would you ask me this. Especially after... all this?”

Felicity snorted “Of course she trusts us. ….Look what she's let us do to her.”

“I wish you'd stop calling me h....”

“OK, Then. Let's do this.” Temperance clapped her hands together decisively.

“Don't worry, Lee …..viiii...” Chastity said apologetically. “We're all doing it. And it's not as if it's permanent. …..Or ….has to be.”

“But you first” Felicity grinned.

They brought me over to a chair by the earring tree. They showed me a bunch of earrings, and discussed which best complimented my bone structure, the way the hair framed my face and the rest of my ensemble. After a talk with the salesgirl, the earrings were purchased for later and a pair of simple diamond studs was chosen. They seemed understated, which I found secretly to be a relief. I didn't know what a starter stud was. I soon found out.

It was all so fast, I didn't realize what had happened for a moment. It was sudden and unexpected as the clerk wielded the punch like a gunslinger. That's a good description since it was like a tiny tiny nailgun driving through my earlobe. I was distracted by the pain, which was brief, like a bug bite. Before I knew it I had two sparkly diamond studs in my freshly pierced ears. Temperance and Felicity, seeing how well I seemed to take it, quickly followed suit. The three of us frowned as Chastity chickened out and grabbed a pair of clip-ons. I almost quipped “What? No Tattoos?” but these girls were out of control and I really believe I would have ended up with a tramp stamp.

Our little adventure had taken most of the afternoon and we were all laden down with shopping bags. I felt like a charity case, as I had no disposable income of my own, and everything had been lavished on my by my three benefactors. Then I took a moment to think of everything they bought me, and realized ….none of this was for me. They were amusing themselves, and I was just the canvas on which they were happily painting. They promised we'd find the boys and get food after one last stop. That was when I learned what a mani-pedi was. And that varnish wasn't just for floors.

The girls had gone all out and were dressed to the nines. No one would have recognized the plain girls who looked like they wandered away from a Colonial Williamsburg exhibit as the three vixens turning heads as they walked through the mall. No. It wasn't a walk. I know because they coached me here too. I thought they were just teaching me to walk in the 5” heels, but with the pointers on posture and deportment, they were teaching me how to stride … with grace, confidence and a seemingly effortless aura of authority. When I mentioned this to Felicity, she smiled wickedly and said, “Yeah. They won't soon forget the foxy foursome.” She then stopped us in front of a tinted window and we stared at our reflection. I realized she was talking about the four of us. I couldn't recognize any of the drop-dead gorgeous visions starting back at us. We certainly did not look like a Felicity, or Temperance and certainly not Chastity. The fourth reflection I simply couldn't process. Rumspringa is a test. What is the question if this is the response? I was speechless. All I could muster, almost under my breath was “....Jesus!”

We all stared at ourselves a little too long, and the discomfort snapped us out of it. I suspect that for the others as well, it wasn't as much vanity as surprise and disbelief at the reflections staring back. We were all quiet for a moment. Felicity was the first to gather her wits. “Um.... food court?” We all quickly agreed. I suspect it was less about hunger than distraction for the torrent of conflicting emotions racing through our heads.

Chapter 3
When we got to the food court, I got a miso soup and a seaweed salad, because they seemed light and the dress was so tight I feared it would show every morsel of food going down. The other girls got more familiar food. Felicity got teriyaki chicken because it smelled good, and at least she knew what chicken was. Temperance got a cobb salad and a smoothie, and Chastity found a stand selling pot pies and had a side of mac&cheese and a big glass of milk. I think she really needed comfort food after what she was a part of that afternoon. We then noticed the boys sauntering around the food court, coolly checking everything out like they owned it and were checking on their investment. They were dressed like foreign gangsters or rappers as imagined by someone who had never seen an actual rapper. They had shiny track suits, an alarming amount of gaudy jewelry, and some intimidating footwear that looked like sneakers gone terribly wrong. They had been to a hair salon too. Their home-cut hair was replaced by something so shiny, hard and ...big... that I first thought it was some sort of plastic hat. Chastity gave them a big smile and Jakob nodded back. He nudged Seth and they strutted over like a couple of roosters. As they approached, one more touch became apparent. I first wondered if it was the lighting, but by the time they got within about 30 feet of us, it was obviously not the lighting. They had a definite orange sheen to their skin. I had never heard of spray tans, but clearly they had.

“Hell-Lo” Felicity said loudly and slowly as if speaking to a dim child ….or a foreigner... “Speak... English???” she gestured to her mouth. Temperance, Chastity and I suppressed our giggles. It was clear that they didn't recognize us and thought strangers in the food court were fawning over their studliness.

“Why of course ladies.” Seth purred. I think he was going for 'worldly' accent, but it just made him sound more foreign. “I speak like my native tongue”

“Oh?” Temperance chimed in. “Where are you from?” she guilelessly inquired, biting her lip the whole time.

“....ummmm.... somewhere else. Somewhere far from here. So far away you have never heard of. Anyway, we are here now. ….Chatting with American lovelies.....” he began coughing nervously when Jakob tag-teamed in.

“And you are?” They definitely weren't joking around. They didn't recognize us at all. We only all grew up together.

“Monique!” Temperance blurted out. “Genvieve” Felicity chimed in. We looked at Chastity who stared like a deer in headlights. I guess it was my turn. Oh, well, after everything else I'd done today, why not. “I'm Astrid!” I cheerfully chirped in what I hoped was a feminine enough lilt. Felicity & Temperance looked at each other and just managed not to burst out laughing.... which the guys completely didn't notice. “And our friend here....” Temperance volunteered waving toward Chastity “...is..”

“Chhhhhhhhhhhh” Chastity interrupted “...Chhhhhhhhh...armed to make your acquaintance.... I'm..... Mary”

“Actually, Marie.” Felicity cut in. “Marie Claire. We are down from Canada. She thinks Mary sounds more American. She wants to fit in.”

“Ah yes. Is good to fit.” Jakob agreed. “....Like regular American. ….When in ….um... America.....” This was getting painful.

“Exactly!” I cut him off. “Everyone is from somewhere else. America truly is a melting pot.” I smiled as sweetly as I could muster.

“So, what brings you lads to USA?” Temperance, it seems, was not through torturing them.

“Um.... we are here on... actually... big...big....”

“...Holiday!” Seth tagged in. I just rolled my eyes and tried not to witness what was happening. “...Is really big holiday in our country. Everyone goes away....somewhere else. We come to USA. Hot dogs. Baseball.... American Idol.... USA. We love so much”

I couldn't bear to witness any more. I wanted to sneak away but I couldn't.

“And hot American babes” Jakob growled in what I'm sure he thought was a sexy voice as he leaned in toward me. I winced.

“We're not American.” Temperance hijacked his attention. “We said we're from Canada. That's another whole country.... though some people seem to think it's just a part of America.”

“By the way” Chastity found her voice. “We never got your names.”

“Oh. Yes.... I mean no.... you didn't” Seth stammered. “I am Ssssss” Chastity was loving this payback. “....sssssven..... and this is my bro...no, what is word.... cousin...in...law.... Jjjjjjjj” Jakob squimed terrified but helpless. “....jjjjjens!” Seth beamed, pleased that he had finally managed to form a word.

“Sven and Jens?” I smirked, raising my recently threaded brow. Despite the shiny orange 'tan', Seth managed to turn gray when confronted with his inspired name choices. “I'm sure you got teased a lot as kids.” I smiled.

“Well.... not really.... it's different in our country. Um. We must go now. We must meet someone. We have friends....”

“You? …. have friends?!?” Felicity tore in. This was getting cruel. It was clear their plan to hit on girls had backfired horribly and they wanted badly to get away, I knew my friends were like dogs clenching a towel. They were having too much fun, and they were not letting go. It was going to get worse fast.

“It's been really nice to meet you both, and if you're ever in Canada, look us up” I said, extending an exquisitely manicured hand. Seth quickly grabbed it and kissed my knuckles. Staring into my eyes with what seemed like desire, awe, and profound relief at being given an escape.

“Charmed mamzell” he sputtered before he and Jakob scurried away less like roosters than like fleeing ferrets.

“Was that supposed to be French?” Temperance laughed. The absurdity of the departure distracted the girls from their thoughts of prolonged torment.

“Je ne sais pas. Peut etre c'est la langue de son pais?” I purred in my best Catherine Deneuve voice.

Suddenly six eyes bore into me. Jaws dropped, eyes stared, but no one spoke.

“..What???” I blushed. What did people think I did all those years I was sneaking to the library? Read Playboy?

“So, turns out you're not just a hot girl, you're a hot French girl?” Felicity whined. “This is so not fair. There is no way to compete with this. We have to dump her in the river.” Temperance laughed. Chastity just stared. I don't think she knew who was joking any more.

“Or you could just give me back my old clothes....”

“That's not going to happen any time soon. This is too much fun. And you're WAY too good at this!”

I knew she was going to say that. Maybe I was acquiring woman's intuition.

“I don't know how to say this.....” Chastity interrupted “so I'm just going to come out and SAY it.....”

We all stopped and looked at her. Waiting for her to continue. She just stared back at us, until I couldn't take the tension. “Say WHAT?????” I knew it was going to be about me. She was as wary of this idea as I was, but I must admit, I was beginning to relax and have fun with it.

“The boys!” She looked imploringly from one to the other of us. “We have to meet up with them later. And that means they will find out we were toying with them.”

“And they were playing us. Thinking we were strangers, hitting on us like foreign high rollers. They were just as bad as we were” Temperance reminded her.

“Only we were much better at it.” Felicity smiled with more than a little satisfaction.

“What happens on Rumspringa stays on Rumspringa” I reminded them. God, I sounded like a mom.

“Yesss mommm....” the three girls smiled. Whoa.

Jakob had the phone. We bought it for emergencies before we left. Contrary to popular belief, our community does not spurn all technology. We do have a phone. One phone. For the whole community. In a room in the elder's house. We are farmers, and accidents happen. Nowhere does the bible say “thou shalt not call 911”. So yes. Before we left, we got a phone. One phone. Which Jakob had. Fortunately in a modern American mall, it takes all of 10 minutes to get a smartphone and number. Temperance called Jakob, who seemed startled. I don't think he even knew for sure that his phone worked.

“Jakob. It's me. Temperance. At the mall. They have phones at the mall. Yes. We should all have one. We can call each other and not just phone home. For situations like this. Yes. Where are you? We'll meet you. OK. By the IMAX in 10 minutes.” I only needed to hear one side of the conversation to fill in the rest.

I confronted the other girls. “It's going to be bad enough when Seth and Jakob realize you led them on. But what about me? How do you plan to explain ME? I sure can't ….not even to myself.”

“We'll think of something” Temperance tried to reassure me. “We have 10 minutes.”

More to come in Part 2...

Part 2
Explanations, Improvisations, and Reconciliations

Chapter 4
Felicity saw Jakob leaning against a column by the IMAX theater at the mall. He and Seth were slouching casually and checking out girls in the other direction. They didn't see us.

“OK Tem, have you figured a way to explain to Jakob & Seth what we did to the 'little brother' they entrusted to our care?” It seemed that even the unflappable Felicity was getting anxious.

“I'm working on it.” She looked at me and scrunched up her face. “How would you feel about keeping this up a little longer?” She had no idea how to get me out of this. I could at least buy her some time by my continued silence. I shrugged. She smiled, relieved.

Temperance fished out her phone and called Jakob. She had me stay back while she, Felicity and Chastity walked up behind them. I could see from a distance when she tapped his shoulder from behind, and the confused and angry reaction when he and Seth realized how they had been toyed with at the food court. The anger quickly turned to embarrassment and far quicker than I'd have expected, they were all laughing about it. The conversation continued a bit longer. Chastity kept shooting furtive glances my way, so I presume Temperance was weaving whatever story she had concocted about why I wasn't with them. I was curious myself to hear what happened to Levi. I would learn soon enough. After a few serious minutes the faces lightened up, and before too long Temperance motioned my way. Jakob and Seth turned and smiled in my direction and Felicity beckoned me to join them.

Is it even possible to not walk sexy in 5” heels? I was a bit surprised at how quickly I got used to them. Then again, considering everything else I had been through, they weren't especially daunting. As the heels clicked across the slippery tile floor, I felt like I was making a slow, deliberate entrance, even though I was merely walking over to meet my friends. “Hi” I smiled sheepishly. “I'm really sorry about the foodcourt....”

“Don't worry about it.” Seth reassured me. “Our friends are full of mischief. They already lost one of our party today.”

“Oh”?

“I can't really get the whole story out of them, but obviously they broke him and he took a bus back home.”

“Home? Well, he can catch up with you later if he wants to, right?”

“No. He failed the test. So when he goes home he's back for good. Well, at least this year. He's young. I'm sure he'll get another chance in a year or two.”

“A year or two?”

“Think of it like being grounded. He failed the outside world test. But he was really young and probably not ready for the it. I'm sure he'll get another chance another year.”

“But not this year?”

“No.”

“Sorry I won't get to meet him. If he stayed with you instead of the girls, would he still be here?” I stared daggers at Temperance. What had she done?

Jakob shrugged. Seth nodded, so I turned to him. “He'd still be here....” Seth nodded. Then I began to think.

“....In a tracksuit with a spray tan?” I smiled.

Felicity actually snorked soda out her nose. Temperance and Chastity just laughed and smiled my way. I was feeling more comfortable with my choice by the minute.

Seth was eager to change the subject. “I'm Seth by the way. And that is Jakob.”
“Not Sven & Jens? Seth and Jakob. The truth just sounds different.....right. Delighted to meet you Seth and Jakob.” I overstressed their true names like an overly friendly salesperson.

“And I take it you're not Astrid?”

“Only in here” I tapped my finger to my temple. “...and in internet chat rooms” I laughed. Wait. Did I just make a cybersex joke? Where did THAT come from? ….Am I ...flirting?
“Actually, I'm Allison. Allison Crowe.” I just blurted that out. I was as surprised as anyone. It was as if I was channeling someone else who didn't have to make anything up. I just went to speak with no idea what I was about to say, and it poured out without an instant's hesitation. “...but my friends call me Ali”. ...They do? I hear the words as they leave my mouth, but even I can't tell you where they're coming from.

“Allison..... Ali.... You're right, the truth just sounds different.” Seth smiled. I glanced at the other girls who were just staring at me with disbelief.

“Temperance says you just got over a bad breakup and left your job. Did the 'retail therapy' help?” “We're all heading up to Chicago.” Jakob cut in. “Would you like to tag along?” Way to go Tem, giving me something I could riff on.

“My boss was a pig. I should sue the bastard, but he's a high roller in this city, and it would be futile to bring suit against the biggest law firm in town. And with those pics my ex posted online....”

“You let someone photograph you in ...um....” Seth seemed equally shocked and intrigued.

“Let had little to do with it. He's a voyeuristic perv. I finally found out and broke up with him. Then he showed me how ...prolific... he was. Actually, showed me and the rest of the internet.” I really have no idea where this backstory was coming from. It was like tuning a radio. It just flowed through me. But it seemed to be working, so I just went with it.

Felicity pulled me aside. “Where are you GETTING this stuff?” she whispered.

“I don't KNOW!” I whispered back.

“Well, it's working. Keep it up.”

“So. Care to accompany us to Chicago?” Seth asked.

“...Yes. I think I would, actually. There's nothing for me here. I could use a fresh start.”

Chapter 5
I had looked forward to the trip to Chicago for longer than I let myself remember. I knew it wasn't just our first trip to a really big city. I had heard talk. Whispers. No one had spoken of her aloud since she failed to return from her Rumspringa over a decade ago, but people knew I still missed her and told me rumors they heard concerning her. The rumor I fixated on was that she was living in Chicago. I knew the odds were astronomical, but I was hopeful that at least one more time in my life, I would be able to see my older sister.

Temperance and Felicity helped me track her down. Chastity definitely did not approve, since her failure to return resulted in automatic banishment and her name was never to be spoken. I tried to remind her that Rumspringa is when we bend the rules, challenge the rules, and maybe the point is that we learn to understand why the rules exist. She still didn't approve, but she grudgingly went along. Constance was in fact still living in Chicago and surprisingly easy to find. I quickly learned that women will not as a rule have a phone listed with their first name, but that it's a good chance that a public listing under a first initial is likely a woman. I didn't know if she would retain “Constance” but hoped she would keep her first initial.

I only had to call about 9 C. Millers before my luck changed. Though when a guy answered the phone I thought I struck out again. “Constance Miller please?”

“Constance?” Crap. No luck. Then muffled as he talked away from the phone, “You're full name is 'Constance'?” the guy laughed. Some heated conversation I couldn't make out.
“What is this in reference to? Who are you and where are you from?”

“I'm.... I'm from her hometown.... we grew up together and I'm here on ….break... I wanted to look her up.”

He seemed surprised. “Oh. I thought you were a telemarketer or someone calling from the bank. CONNIE! There's a woman on the phone, says you grew up together and she wants to meet.” A quick scuffling sound and I heard my sister's winded voice.

“Hello?”

“Connie?”

“Yes.”

“No. I mean 'CONN-IE?'”

“It's close. Don't judge me. Who is this?”

“you probably don't remember me, but I will never forget you.”

“Are you from the community?”

“Yes. I'm here on my rumspringa.”

“God. That would make you..... sorry, you'd have been a little girl when I knew you, and I really wouldn't remember.”

“It's Levi.”

“LEVI! Oh my God. I'm SO sorry. I thought you were a girl. You're on Rumspringa already? You don't even sound like you've hit puberty.”

“Well, it's complicated. I went with some older kids because there's really no one else my age and if I waited I'd be awkwardly old going with some younger kids. I didn't want to wait. Constance, I wanted to find you as soon as I could.”

“Of course! Look, I have to go to work, but let's meet right after I get off. Where are you staying?”

“...I don't know yet. We just got into town and are kind of improvising as we go.”

“Ah, yes. Rumspringa.” I could hear her voice soften with the memories. “There are some decent youth hostels. Not lavish, but affordable. And you'll meet some really interesting people. It's really a perfect Rumspringa experience. Another tip. Buy a phone.”

“Already have one.” I gave her the number and she said she'd call me when she got off work.

Having accomplished the top item on my list, my attention focused to issue number two. Shelter.

We all quickly agreed that our mall spree had been fun, but not too practical. So when we got to Chicago, the first thing we did was find thrift shops and dollar stores to build more practical wardrobes. Since I was stuck being Allison until I could figure a way out of it, I went with the girls. I was actually getting good at learning sizes and eyeing stuff on the rack. While my three friends tried on endless items and fussed over everything, I became a super shopper. I knew instinctively how things would drape and look as I viewed them on the hanger. As proof, everything I tried fit just as I pictured it, and once I took it off the rack, modeling it for the others to approve became a formality. I didn't pick much, but nothing I picked went back on the rack. The woman at one of these stores noticed this, complimenting my eye and giving me her card if I ever wanted a job. I was flattered but didn't think much of it. This seemed to make a real impression on the other girls though, as I was the first of their group they suddenly pictured being able to earn a living in the outside world.

The youth hostel was ...sparse. There was no privacy, so when I found myself lumped on the women's floor, I began to panic. Once I realized that women were inherently more private in toilet and shower facilities I began to relax. Those were the only areas where I would be totally exposed, and the shelter of the stalls spared me that dilemma.

I tried to “boy up” for my meeting with Constance ...Connie. Choosing a simple tee, boy jeans, canvas sneakers and a gray hoodie. I pulled my hair back ...until I saw the studs. I managed to cover my ears, but still not draw attention to the length. I deliberately mussed up my stylish feminine cut and thought I was pulling it off. When I stepped off the bus and the driver smiled “have a nice day miss” I began to think it wasn't working as well as I thought.

I met her at a Starbucks near her work. When I sat next to her and said hello, she shot me a glare and said “Sorry miss. This seat's taken. I'm waiting for someone.”

“I've been waiting for you for over 10 years” I replied.

She just stared. I could sense the wheels turning in her head, but I waited in vain for the recognition.

“Excuse me? Who ARE you?”

“Constance! It's ME!”

“Sorry. I was waiting for my little brother. Are you one of his friends?”

“Thou hast eyes and still don't see. It's ME. Levi! Has it been that long?” I gave her a tight hug as she just sat there, not returning the gesture.

“Levi?” she whispered. She still didn't seem convinced, but tried to be making an effort. “I'm so sorry. I don't ...didn't... recognize you at all. I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“Well. I don't know. I.... how do I say this and not offend you.”

Here it comes. I grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye to let her know I was not going to be offended. “Just say it”

“Jesus. I thought you were a girl.”

“No offense taken. Actually, I get that a lot. But it doesn't really bother me. It's just well meaning strangers. Still... what part of this outfit says 'girl'?” I waved my hand up and down from my chucks to my ball cap. She grinned.

“None of it. But you must admit the sweeping arm is very Vanna White. I don't know. It's just... I don't know. It's not the clothes. It's just the …..presence.”

I was a little frustrated and I brushed my hair back to scratch my ear.

“Wait a minute. What is this?” Her eyes went large as she reached for the gold stud.

“OK.” I sighed. “This will take some explanation.”

Connie's reaction as I recounted my first 36 hours of Rumspringa seemed to be a mixture of amusement, amazement and disbelief. I think amusement won out.

“Wow. All we did was get drunk and sick in a park. Times sure have changed. And you're staying in a women's hostel?”

“With Temperance Felicity and Chastity”

“It had better be with Chastity if you want to stay out of real trouble.” She laughed. Then apologized for having a joke at my friend's expense.

“Oh. She's not my friend.”

“Meowwwrrr!!!” She clawed the air playfully.

“I mean, she helped the others, even though she objected. She went along with everything.”

“As did you.” She was right. I didn't know how to respond. So I changed the subject.

“Can I come stay with you?”

Her scrunched expression telegraphed her response. “That's ….tricky. You see, I have a 1 room studio and....”

“I know I talked to him on the phone. What's his name?” I smiled ruefully.

“Josh. He's a firefighter.”

I raised an eyebrow and let out a wicked smile. “Oh. A firefighter?...”

“Are you sure you're not a girl?” she laughed. “Maybe you always were one and we just never noticed” she teased.

I smiled back politely. Actually, I'd begun wondering the same thing myself.

Part 3: A day with the boys. And The art of the pickup.

Chapter 6

The girls at the hostel were actually mostly nice. I think most of the tensions came from so many varied people from so many cultures being pressed together into such small quarters. It seemed like a junior United Nations only with raging hormones, youthful recklessness and no privacy to speak of – which was the only real problem for me. At least I got a little privacy in the restroom, which was all I really needed. It really wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound, since most of the girls were eager to see the city and really only returned to change or sleep. Occasionally one adventurous girl might fail to even do that, but it didn't happen as often as you would imagine, probably because they knew the teasing they would face when they did finally drag their trampy self back to the hostel. Comparing notes with the boys, I think we had the better living arrangements, though they did mention that a lad who stayed out all night was greeted like a conquering hero. They also mentioned that boys would just stay out all night, milling around at 24-hour convenience stores or sleeping on benches just to return the next morning and be greeted like a conquering casanova. When I asked how they knew of this scheme, they turned beet red and got quite shy.

I think over the course of a few days, the other girls simply forgot that I had ever been anything but.

Except Chastity. She kept glaring at me. I finally took her aside and asked her if anything was bothering her. She got all shy and self conscious, but finally I drew it out of her.

“I knew it was wrong when we did it, but finally convinced myself there was no harm. But you're still pretending to be a girl and it doesn't even seem to be bothering you anymore.”

“It's not. I think I'm just getting used to it.”

“How? How can you just 'get used to it?' It's so wrong!”

“How is it wrong?”

“You have to ASK? There's boys and there's girls and we're just different.”

“How so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know your mom died when you were little, but didn't your Pa ever give you 'the talk'?”

I smiled back. “I'm not planning on making babies. Or anything like that. I'm just living life. Eating, sleeping, hanging out with my friends and seeing the sights. I realized, I'm still me. Not that much is different. It's no more different than speaking old-tongue with the elders and chatting with the kids from town. It's me saying what I want to say, but the way I present it is different. Boys and girls are different, but not as different as you think.”

“You have no idea how different they are.”

“Actually, yes. I have a much better idea than you will ever have. Unless.....” I started to get a wicked idea.

Chastity raised an eyebrow when she saw the gleam in my eye. “What?”

“You said you were really sorry for your part in this.” I swept my hand up and down over my female self. Note to self: stop with the 'Vanna hand'. Chastity nodded guiltily. “Even though I finally said I was fine with it.” She made a more pained face.

“Especially then. We broke you.”

I smiled. They didn't break my spirit. They set it free. It took me a while to realize that. I knew it would take them, ….especially Chastity.... a lot longer.

“You also said you would do whatever you could to make it up to me”

She was getting nervous now. “What do you want me to do?”

I smiled and gazed into her eyes as gently and confidently as I could. “I want you so see that it's not so different.”

She seemed to struggle to grasp what I was about to ask of her. “An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth, right?” I smiled and tried to make it sound more like an invitation than a threat. “So what do you think would atone for, as you put it, 'turning me into a girl'?”

She looked really nervous. I'm not sure what was going through her mind, but whatever it was made her anxious.

“Trust me. It won't hurt a bit. You might have fun. It will definitely be an adventure. And you may just learn something.”

She didn't respond. She just stared at me blankly. I took that as a yes.

“Let's spend the day together tomorrow. Just the 2 of us. I'll show you things you never even dreamed of.”

She swallowed hard and just stared at me. I could see the anxiety in her eyes. Chasitity didn't like being out of her comfort zone. And her comfort zone was suffocatingly small.

“I know you don't like new things, but we're on Rumspringa. If you don't discover things now, when will you ever get the chance?” She didn't seem convinced. “Hey, you didn't want to try poutine. Now, do you wish we never talked you into it?” She shook her head and smiled.

“This isn't poutine.” she said in a very timid voice.

“What is?” I smiled. “No this is much less of a leap of faith.”

With that, she let out a nervous laugh, and I saw the smile return to her eyes. I was going to enjoy this. And I was sure that though she would never admit it, when all was said and done, Chastity would too.

The next day, I talked with Tem & Felicity and told them Chastity and I were spending the day together.

They glanced at each other conspiratorialy. “What's this about? We didn't even think you two got along.” Felicity said. It's true. I was much closer with Temperance and Felicity. I realized that this was just the angle I needed.

“I agree. That's why Chastity and I need to spend more time just hanging out together... the two of us.... breaking down the barriers between us.”

Temperance laughed. “Like the fact that she thinks she 'killed' Levi?”

I smiled back. “Yes. I need for her to be okay with that, and I think I've found a way. So, will you two be ok on your own for the day?”

“Oh. We'll be more than ok.” Felicity beamed. “The Italian and Portugese girls wanted us to join them at the mall to meet cute boys.... but they thought Chastity would scare them off, and..... they didn't want to compete with you.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, Tem & I wanted to go, but we could never figure out how to ditch you two without being mean.”

“So everybody wins.” I smiled. Their return grins convinced me that they agreed.

Chastity was still very nervous. But she seemed resigned to her fate. I gently smiled at her. “I know exactly how you feel. Just relax and go with it. It will be over before you know it.”

“It's still not over for you.” She looked me up and down.

“No. I meant the fear. And no... this is just for a day. I'm not going to go introducing your boy self to everyone and telling them that Chastity fled home. You will not be stuck. I promise.” She lowered her eyes in shame and guilt. I lifted her chin with my fingertips until I got eye contact. “Hey” I softly cooed like a mom trying to console a frightened child. “I didn't mean it that way. I'm actually glad looking back at it. I believe God has a plan. You were just His instruments. Heaven knows I would not have found the path on my own.” She seemed to think about this for a moment and relaxed a little.

“So you're saying today is God's plan too?”

“Nah. I'm just feeling a little devilish” I grinned. She startled, then began to smile. I think the girl was finally learning how to get a joke.

“OK. How do we start?” She was not eager, but was trying hard to be willing.

“First.” I said, clapping my hands together. “Let's go shopping.”

Shopping for boys clothes in girl mode is much less intimidating than the other way around. A lot of girls dress boyish, so there isn't really the taboo. And most girls would love to have much more control over the wardrobe of their boyfriends and other guys in their life, so any opportunity to gift a guy with a decent addition to his awful wardrobe would be seized. So when Chastity and I wandered into the young men's section, no one batted an eye. I tried to dress Chastity as androgynously as her wardrobe would allow, which wasn't very. She always chose stuff that seemed.... matronly. We grabbed a ballcap from a tourist stand and stuffed her hair up. I insisted that she not wear makeup, which was easy, since she routinely just put on moisturizer after washing with scented soap, which she still considered somewhat vain and sinful. I swapped her scented bodywash with something with a guy's fragrance and wouldn't let her moisturize.

“But my pores. They're filthy and huge.”

“Good. Helps you look more like a guy. It's just this one time. Go with it.” She was not liking this, but admitted that it got her out the door much faster.

By the time we hit the first store, I thought we had her looking pretty androgynous. I told her to let me do all the talking.

“Mom left me alone to mind my little brother for the day” I said trying to sound as girly-girl as possible. “I thought I'd take him shopping. His taste is so...euccch.”

The salesclerk smiled politely. I think she was trying to see Chastity as a boy and not quite succeeding. I stepped up my game. “Annnd.... he's always getting teased and bullied at school because he's... so....”

“I see what you're trying to say” the clerk smiled sympathetically. Got her! “You know. Some hair product and makeup, and a more feminine wardrobe, and he almost would look like a real girl.” Almost. I couldn't help smiling, thankful that Chastity was out of earshot standing with her hands in her pockets, shoulders slumped, staring at her sneakers as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She really did have the boy posture down without even trying.

We had her try on a number of items. She was not happy at the whole 'boy-for-a-day' adventure I dragged her on, but her glum attitude was perfect for a young man dragged shopping by his older sister. We finally threw together a sullen skateboarder look that shook the androgyny off. Chastity – or as I introduced her to the salesclerk Chaz, said nothing through the whole occasion. Just looking uncomfortable at the two women doting on her wardrobe. When the salesclerk bade us goodbye, she finally croaked out a very self-conscious mumbled 'bye'. Without actively trying, she was hitting all the perfect notes of a sullen pre-teen.

I dragged her out to places I thought young men might hang out. An arcade, a skatepark, batting cages, we even found a go kart place. Everywhere we went, I convinced her to mingle with the other boys. I would eventually badger her until she shuffled over, hands in pockets and lurk until someone spoke. I got as close as I could, like a mother hen, trying to eavesdrop on a playdate. They all went basically the same.

“Hey.” depressed, barely audible monotone.

“hey.” Same 'enthusiatic' reply

“Who's that?” nodding my way.

“Older sister” slightly disgusted tone

“Cool”

long awkward. silence shuffling. Everyone staring at ground. Never any eye contact.

“Jared”

“Chaz”

another 3 minutes of silence.

“You from around here?”

“Just visiting. …..For the day.”

It was so hard not to just walk over and facilitate this pained conversation by interjecting myself. But this was what Chastity needed to experience for herself.

More pained, self conscious silence. “Wanna hit a few balls or something?” FINALLY!

“...'k” Chaz finally replied and they shuffled off to the batting cages.

“They're so awkward at that age” another woman leaned in touching me on the shoulder. I hadn't noticed her behind me. I just smiled. ….“It's a wonder they'll ever get a girlfriend.”

I returned her smile.

She was Claire. She was a realtor. Her son had been badgering her to take him and his friends here until she finally relented. Her boy was 8 and full of energy and caffeinated soda.

“I kind of look forward to when he gets older and sullen. I could use the rest!” she laughed. “How about you? Do you have any children.”

I laughed at the question. “Oh, noooo. And no plans. My little brother is enough of a handful.”

“Of course you don't. Not with that figure. Hold off as long as you can dear. You're figure will never be the same.”

I smiled politely. I couldn't believe we were having this conversation. Another new and unexpected experience to add to the diary I really had to start writing. Oh. Wait. I guess I am doing that now!

Chaz and his new friend moped back our way. “So, are you having fun?” I asked cheerily.

Chaz shrugged. “I dunno. I guess” he mumbled.

Jared came up and immediately butted in “Hey, let's get some food. This place has the best chili fries!” Chaz looked at me.. I think seeking permission.

“Go. Do you have enough money?” Nod. “OK. Stay by the food shed. Don't go wandering off. ...and don't eat so much that you ruin your supper again”. I got a scowl of contempt as a reply, and it couldn't have tickled me more. Chastity was three years older than me, and I had always been the 'little kid' in the group. As a girl, I had been told by a number of people that I looked 19 or 20, but acted so maturely that they wondered if I wasn't a youthful late 20s. I was really enjoying playing the overly protective adult with Chaz, who looked like a lumpy 12 or 13 year old boy. So we didn't just swap genders, we also swapped ages. Chastity was discovering how disempowering it was to be a boy on the cusp of puberty. I hoped this daytrip over the age and gender borders that divided us would help her find some empathy and realize that a lot of the 'otherness' she felt with me and a lot of different people, might begin to fade. A girl can dream, can't she?

I chatted with the other moms and they were a hoot. Apparently they often find themselves bumping into each other carting their kids around, and they've grown into this sort of improv comedy troupe. I don't know if any of them were aware of it, but they can clearly read each other so well, it was like a tightly choreographed routine about being a working mom in the big city. I was in stitches... helped no doubt by the thermos full of wine one of the moms brought. Apparently, that was also part of this informal tradition. When I observed that they were all driving SUVs and tried to ask as diplomatically as possible if wine was such a good idea, our secret sommelier, Vanessa made a dismissive gesture and said “pffft. Gracie's driving.” One of the other moms explained that Grace was her teenaged daughter and she had her learners permit. Nessa decided that Gracie needed more time behind the wheel and she could really use a chauffer, so the current scheme was devised. Like a good chauffer, Grace waited in the car. I'm sure she did that not to be discreet, but because she's 16 years old and wants to keep as much distance as possible between herself and her mom. I glanced over at the cars and caught a glimpse of a gaunt girl with hollow eyes sitting behind the wheel staring at her phone. She reminded me of a character from “Nightmare before Christmas”, but I'm sure she was just being her. I noticed she seemed to be taking selfies. Despite the creepy gaunt demeanor, she was just an ordinary, very emo, teenaged girl.

I was having a surprisingly good time chatting with the older ladies, and they seemed to enjoy their new addition, commenting on how youthful and beautiful I was. Not coming out and asking my age, but trying to get me to slip and reveal all sorts of personal info. I was really enjoying this game of not giving out any information but seeming to be completely unguarded and forthcoming without ever actually divulging anything. All I would say about my age is, “you wouldn't believe me, so don't insist that I tell you. And you're NOT seeing my license.” ...especially since I didn't have one. It was like a verbal sport, and I was delighted to find that I seemed to be a natural at it. One of the girls just came right out and said to me, “You're wasting your talents, girl! Why don't you run for office?” to which I replied “Because they would find out I used to be a boy” - which brought on howls of laughter. I think Clarise may have peed a little because she quickly excused herself and dashed to the restroom, still doubled over in laughter.

Suddenly I was aware of Chaz lurking over my right shoulder. I got a strong sense of resentment that I was having a much more raucous time with my new friends, when the day was supposed to be about him ...I mean her... Chas.

I turned all my attention to Chaz.

“Uh. Can I talk to you? ….alone?” he mumbled.

Excusing myself, we stepped out of earshot and huddled. “What is it?”

“Um. I probably shouldn't have had that 40 ounce soda”

“Are you sick? Do you want to go home?” Where was home? The hostel? ...the farm?

“No. ….and yes”

I still wasn't sure whether we were talking about the hostel or the farm.

“Sorry. I don't understand. Explain it to me like I'm a little kid.” That drew a smile.

“I'm not sick. But I really, REALLY have to pee!”

“So?... Pee!”

“Where?” I could hear the rising panic.

“Um... we're in the big city now. They have these places called public toilets.”

“Yuh. PUBLIC toilets. What am I gonna do?”

“Well, you're over 4, so I don't think it would be appropriate for me to take you to the ladies room.” That got a glare. “Jeez. Just 'Man up' and use the mens!”

“But... it's the mens!”

“Yeah.”

“I may not know much, but I'm not stupid!!! I've seen pictures of those things on the walls., Guys stand up!”

I couldn't stifle my smile. ...'not stupid'??? “Yeah. Guys stand.” I looked her straight in the eye. “...not to do everything!” I waited for the glimmer of recognition... then embarrassment. It was a short wait.

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“So just grab a stall and do what you need to do. ...and don't make eye contact!”

“...as if you even needed to say it.” ...there was the surly Chaz I'd come to know.

He survived his trip to the mens without apparent trauma, so I asked if he wanted to stay or move on.

“Yeah. I've pretty much done this place.”

“Yes, you have” I replied with a matronly smile. I noticed the stifled smirk.

We hit a few other places and I think Chasity was becoming more comfortable with 'Chaz-mode'. When it got to the point where I think she had forgotten all about it and was just being in the world unselfconsciously, I decided the first part of my mission was accomplished. When I suggested that it was time for Chaz to call it a day, and that the girls needed to get back to the hostel, I sensed a little relief. As we walked and took public transit back, I helped Chaz slowly become Chastity again. Sending her into another restroom to put tights on under her baggy jeans, and to swap the Vans for androgynous canvas sneakers. On the train, I had her pull out her oversize shirt which fell down nearly to her knees, then take off her jeans. No one on the train looked twice. Her hair was unfixable, so we turned the ballcap round lid-front and pulled her hair thru the back in a ponytail with a couple of scrunchies from my bag. A moist towlette and some moisturizer from my bag, and Chastity was back. Looking pretty punk and a little butch, but nearly unrecognizable from Chaz, once she lost the 'Chaz-itude'. It was kind of amazing, because the biggest difference was body language and attitude, but it was the critical component of the change and suddenly all the world saw was a tired, stocky teenaged girl.

“So how was it?”

“A little weird at first, I think. But then as I got used to it, not so weird. Kind of different, but not that different. Not as different as I thought. Then I just stopped thinking about it every moment. But when I stopped thinking about it, I'd slip and notice the looks. I don't know if people were confused or annoyed, but I'd quickly think 'what did I just do?' and try to fix it. So I had to keep thinking 'what would Chaz do?'”

"Pretty exhausting, huh?"

She grinned.

"Welcome to MY world." I smiled. "Well, at least my world up until a few days ago."

She stared at me quizically. But openly. I thought if she was ever going to 'get it' there would be no better time.

"You spent all day looking to all the world like a boy. You spent time with them. They never questioned you as one of their own..." She nodded. "...except when you 'slipped'" I smiled. She blushed. "But you knew WHY you slipped.You KNEW you were a girl pretending to be a boy." She smiled.

I held her hands gently and looked her in the eyes. "Welcome to my entire life until the day before yesterday. Only where you KNEW why you slipped, I had been told my entire life, by everyone, that I WAS a boy."

"But you ARE..." she looked at me with a sort of anguish.

"Not here." I tapped my temple. "Not here." I took her hands and placed them over my heart. "And believe me, those are MUCH bigger parts of me than...." then it was MY turn to blush.

That broke the tension. Chastity let out a relaxed, hearty laugh.

"You see? Today, you always KNEW the truth. Always knew YOURSELF. Imagine going through life thinking you actually WERE a boy."

"I wasn't very good at it" she smiled.

"Neither was I. But I never understood why." She furrowed her brow. "Not until recently anyway."

She appraised me for a while. Trying to reconcile her set notions with what I hoped was pretty compelling evidence, based on her own personal experience, that might help her to see things from a different perspective.

"But God doesn't make mistakes." She said quietly.

"I'm not challenging you on that." I replied calmly. "What if this was all part of the plan? Like making the blind see, the infirm walk?"

"You're claiming to be a miracle?"

I burst out laughing. "Heavens NO! I'm just saying, we are all just a small piece of the grand tapestry, and who are we to think we can see the big picture and are privy to the master plan? All I'm saying is try to keep an open mind..." (I again tapped my temple) "...an open heart" (I clasped her hands harder against my chest) "and don't rush to judgement.... of me, OR yourself."

I could see she was honestly trying to process what I was saying. Arguing with herself.

"But I broke Levi." she said in a small voice. As if she almost stopped believing it herself.

"No more than the earth 'breaks' the shell when the seed finally sprouts." I smiled. That might have done it. Her eyes got distant, and I knew she was lost in thought. I let her ponder things for a while, but it was getting too quiet for too long, so I tried to bring her back to earth.

"NOW do you get it?”

“Not yet. Not really. ...but I'm beginning to.” she smiled. I think I saw more unguarded warmth than I ever had. Gone was the guilt, conflict and vague disapproval in her eyes. She was beginning to make her peace with my situation. And her own part in it.

“Still, I would have peed myself before I would have gone into the boys room” she smiled, lightening the mood.

“Yeah. I was getting that feeling, which is why I knew I had to convince you fast. It all worked out fine, right?” She nodded. “Nothing scary about mens rooms right? Aside from the extra plumbing?” Another nod and smile. “Good. Now don't go making it a habit of hanging out in them!” Another smile and a big blush. Oh my God. The girl GOT a JOKE. Miracles DO happen!

Chapter 7

I think over the course of a few days, the other girls simply forgot that I had ever been anything but. We were seeing the sights, visiting a local museum, which had been my idea since I was quite short on funds. I knew libraries would often loan day-passes to patrons, so I talked my sister out of her library card and leveraged it into a day at the museum. It didn't take much arm twisting to persuade my girlfriends to make a day of it, once they talked me out of the stuffy museum I first suggested and they were able to 'talk me into' making it the art museum ….which had been my plan all along.

Temperance really seemed to enjoy the collection, Felicity enjoyed watching all the art boys, and Chastity seemed most interested in visiting the cafeteria near the gift shop. Still, everyone was having a good time in their own way.

I was gazing at a piece I knew from books, - I did mention that I was the kid who would sneak away to the library to devour books while other kids would sneak off to hang out with the locals for pick up sports, illicit cigarettes and chatting up girls? I knew I couldn't keep up in any of those pursuits and had no real desire to. Everyone won. I wasn't hanging around with them, cramping their style as they interacted with the locals, and I got to learn far more about the outside world in the library than they ever would in the parking lot of the mini-mall. At least that was the theory, but as this breathtaking piece of art reminded me, reading about something and experiencing the real thing were very different things. I was almost swooning as I squinted to examine the intricate detail of the the piece when, I heard mild muttering from behind me. I turned to see a young man struggling with an iPhone. I turned and shushhed him, he looked up and smiled sheepishly. I blushed a little, perhaps because his smile caught me by surprise and also because I remembered we were in a museum, not a library... and I just acted so bossy, as if I were a librarian or some official and not just another museumgoer. Maybe he thought I was staff as well, because he came up and handed the phone and earbuds to me, looking rather helpless and needy. I smiled up at him and examined the phone. I'm the last person anyone should expect to fix a smartphone, but I gamely examined it, noticing that he was running a self-guided tour app, and it seemed to be quite buggy. I also noticed that the tour app, as well as the other apps on his phone were in French.

“:Je suis desole, je ne sai pas quest-ce-que le problem.” I shrugged apologetically.

He lit up with joy. “Vous parlez Francais!”

“Un peu” I held up two closely spaced fingers. “Et vous. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Pas vraiment.... Where to toilet? Thank you sir. Which way is subway? Is ATM near? Helllllo Cleveland!” he smiled. I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head. I knew there was a joke in there somewhere, but I couldn't find it. “Le film?” he crouched in a pose and flung his arms out as if playing air guitar. I laughed before I could catch myself. “Ssshhhh” he put his finger to his lips looking stern, but his mischievous eyes betrayed him.

In the interest of keeping this tale from turning into a language tutorial, I'm recounting the rest of our conversation in English.

“Oh. The MOVIE....” I nodded as if I finally got the joke. I was not going to tell a total stranger that I had never been to a movie theater, though I had watched whatever DVDs I could play on the library's computers, so I wasn't completely out of touch. Still, I had no idea which movie he was referencing, and I felt some discomfort realizing that this foreign stranger knew things about my country that I didn't.

“How rude of me. You help me out and I don't even know your name. I am Luc. Luc Brossard.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance” I returned his smile “ I'm Ali”

“Allez?” He looked confused.

“No.” I laughed. “Allison. Allison Crowe. My friends just call me Ali. AA-Lee” I overenuncated as if to a child. I hoped he would not be offended but I did not want him to think my nickname was 'go'!

“Ah.” ...he got it. “Pleased to make your acquaintance Allison”

“Ali. Please” I waved my hand dismissively.

“Oh, so I am a friend already?” he smiled. “You American girls are so easy.” he winked.

I smiled back. “An American boy might try to give me his phone number, but he would never give me his actual phone.” I retorted as I playfully started to drop his phone into my bag. He just smiled, making no attempt to retrieve it. He probably had an app to track it, I mused. Giving someone what was essentially a tracking device, you could learn far more info than merely getting their phone number. I'd have to remember that.

Since his museum app wasn't working, but I had some time free, I offered to do my best to give him my own live version of the app experience. He eagerly accepted. It wasn't as bad as I expected. I had read a lot and had a bit of background on most pieces, and using the English signage as notes, I think I was able to bluff a reasonable museum tour. It was surely more interactive than the app would have been. We quickly caught up with my friends, who were taking a break in the snack bar since Temperance needed to visit the restroom, Felicity needed to get off her feet since she wore her stylish but painful shoes, and Chastity was eager to sample museum food.

When I breezed up to their table with Luc in tow, they looked daggers at me. Felicity snidely commented that OF COURSE it would be me who meets the cute guy when I was the only one who actually came to see the museum. Once they realized that he didn't speak English, their talk about him got much more candid.

“He may not speak much English, but he's not stupid. He's sure to recognize a word here and there, and even a dog intuits what you're saying by your tone of voice... AND you keep looking at him like windowshoppers when you talk about him.” I turned to Luc, and addressed him in my clumsy but adequate French.

“I apologize for my friends. It is rude to use only English and exclude you from our conversation. But they are saying many inappropriate things and you are, maybe, lucky not to have to listen to them.” He looked at me and smiled blissfully. I got the feeling that he picked up more of the conversation than I was comfortable with. After accompanying us on our museum tour, he graciously offered to take us all out for a 'proper' meal.

We were terribly underdressed for the restaurant, but Luc waved it off. “This is America. Don't be so stuffy. I have eaten here often on my visit and they never once complain about my attire.... or my generous gratuities”. I hadn't given the matter any thought, but while not at all pretentious, money seemed to be no object for him.

We enjoyed a leisurely late lunch – or was it an early dinner? – either way, we pretty much had the place to ourselves, so I felt less self conscious about my jean jacket and ballet flats. The other girls didn't seem bothered by their attire at all. They were too busy grilling Luc, which was quite awkward, as they did most of the talking and I ended up acting as interpreter. We talked for hours, but I barely got to speak at all with him myself. His father was an architect, mostly designing luxury hotels and office towers in the burgeoning Asian and Middle East markets. His mother had her own fashion design house and was reasonably well known in France among women of a certain age who did not want to concede trendsetting to the youth. His sister was a gifted surgeon and his older brother was breezing through university on a fast track to an apparent career in politics or diplomacy. He also had a twin sister who was a talented violinist and was being recruited by many orchestras across the E.U. I could only imagine what the pressure must be like coming from a family of such staggering overachievers. Suddenly, I appreciated my simple farm family more. Not that I could ever envision myself returning to that life. Luc was in Chicago looking at schools. He wanted to be a filmmaker, but was currently obsessed with still photography.

“Are you any good?” Felicity inquired. He shrugged. “I'd really like to see your work sometime”

I took the liberty of translating that as “she really wants to see your darkroom” he shot me a wicked grin, knowing that my translation was not without my own interpretation. He mentioned that he had an evening engagement, thanked us for our company and excused himself. Taking my hand and kissing it, saying in heavily accented English “Tank you for your assistance wiz ze translassion, and for your gracious company. A bientot.” As he withdrew his hand, he discreetly pressed something into my palm.

“The pleasure was mine.” I replied. “A bientot.” He shot me a sly glance, turned and walked to the lobby.

“Wow. What a hottie!” Felicity exclaimed.

“And so French. Ooh la la.” Chastity chimed in.

“And rich or something” Temperance added. Turning to me. “How do you DO it? It's just so unfair!”

“What?” I asked, trying to seem as innocent and clueless as I could.

“We're on Rumspringa, seeing the world, letting our hair down, meeting cute boys and WHO meets the first cute boy? The first cute, exotic, RICH boy? It is SO not fair! And he likes you too. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He's smitten.”

I tried to look as if I had no idea what she was talking about, but I don't think she was buying it. No one picked up on the fact that he departed with “see you soon” instead of the more conventional “until next time”

Felicity grumbled. “It's like that time Caleb Thielmann wanted to breed his purebred. He ignored three bitches and the dog kept trying to hump the breeder's leg.”

“So you're saying I'm a breeder's leg?”

“You're certainly no bitch!”

I smiled, as her anger and jealousy burst in the absurdity of her ill-conceived statement. We all exploded in laughter. Tension evaporated instantly, and we were soon walking back to our hostel arm in arm.

“Still.... it doesn't seem fair” Temperence sighed.

“Maybe one of the things we're supposed to learn on Rumspringa is that life isn't fair?” Chastity offered.

“In that case it's working, because I'm learning that lesson well” I volunteered as I thought about what was under my capris. I don't think anyone caught my veiled confession, but we were quiet for long time on the walk back.

When we got back to the hostel, I looked at the folded piece of paper Luc had slipped into my palm and I just-as-discreetly cribbed into my jacket pocket. Outsider film festival. Beaux art cinema 2000h cet nuit? Je t'adore. L.

The “L” was done in a sort of calligraphy. How long did it take him to doodle that? And when did he have a chance to scribble that note?

Oh my God. Did he ask me out on a date?

Levi would have been mortified. But Levi wasn't here. Just Ali. And she was delighted and more than a bit anxious. I found it amusing that the girls' lie back at the mall, ended up being true in a way. Levi was gone. I found myself hoping he would never return.

I found the other girls. “You know my sister lives in Chicago, right?” They nodded. “I shut my phone off at the museum. I didn't want to be THAT person”

“As if anyone would call YOU” Felicity laughed.

“Whatever.... Well, I turned it back on when we got back.” Everyone nodded. “Connie really wants to catch up....”

“With her Little Sister?” Temperance raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. She knows. She doesn't exactly disapprove, but really doesn't know what to make of it” I said – speaking for us both.

“I would love to have seen you explain THAT” said Chastity.

“No. Believe me, you wouldn't” I smiled. She thought about it and nodded solemnly.

“Anyway....” I got back on message..... “I'm going to go change. Don't wait up.” They wished me well and walked away.

None of what I said was a lie. They may have been a string of unconnected sentences that my friends would form into a statement on how I planned to spend my evening. I couldn't be responsible for other people's misinterpretations. I smiled quietly to myself at the thought.

I stopped in my tracks at the notion that the girls had been wrong. I WAS a bitch. ….and a devious one at that.

I used the wifi at the coffee shop near the hostel to get the address of the cinema and find subway directions. I had spent too much on my smartphone to afford actual data service, but it was a wonderfully useful device when it could get free wifi somewhere. I wondered what the folks at home would think if they could see me surfing the internet with my smartphone. Then I thought they might not notice the smartphone once they caught sight of my white cotton sundress, strappy 4” sandals and painted toenails.

As I approached the cinema I saw Luc standing in the small pedestrian mall out front. He was scanning the crowd, no doubt wondering whether I'd show, since he failed to put his number on the note. He was sweet, charming, and adorable. But I doubted whether he was the brightest bulb in the family tree.

As his gaze swept in my direction, I let out a big wave and he beamed as I came his way. When I got within arm's length, he reached out like a dancer and swept me into him as I spiraled into his arm sending the skirt of the sundress fanning out in the spin, planting a big kiss on my cheek. It was like a move from some stylish film, and it happened quite spontaneously, though from the looks of others on the plaza in front of the theater, I sensed they thought we were showoffs, or performers to lure people to the film festival. I was startled. I looked up at him with surprise – and a tinge of delight. He instantly got sheepish. “I'm sorry. That is how we do it back home.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and said “I see. So all I have to do is....” I stood on my toes, cradled his chin in my hands and planted a long, wet kiss. Then broke off, looking all innocent and perplexed, batting my eyelashes and said in English with a heavy french accent “....oh. I'm sorry! That is simply how we do it in my country,”

He looked down smiling, and put his finger to my nose. “I kissed you on the CHEEK.”

I pouted.

“THAT is how we do it in my country.”

I lowered my eyes in mock shame. He pulled me to his side and started walking to the theater entrance.

“....But I like your way better.” he smiled as he squeezed my waist. A small voice in my head was screaming at me 'what do you think you're doing????'

It wasn't as romantic as you may be thinking. I can't speak for Luc, but it actually wasn't as romantic as I expected. Still, it was the best night of my life up to that point. Remember, I had never even been in a movie theater. Everything was a discovery. The concession. The velvet drapes over the screen, the plush chairs with holders in the arm for beverages. I might have at least been used to those if I spent any time riding in cars. Everything was a revelation to me. I adored my evening at the movie. We watched a number of experimental films by artists and other 'outsiders'. I read everything I could get my hands on as a kid, and that night, I realized more clearly than ever how much I didn't know. One thing I did know... I was starving to learn more. And I also knew with absolute certainty, that I was not coming back from Rumspringa.

We had a romantic walk and talked a bit. Luc asked about me, and I told him what I could without lying. Again I layered truths with significant gaps so that I didn't have to lie, yet could make it seem like I was telling him about myself, although in a way to let him fill in those gaps with misconceptions. I told him of our small community and how we were separate from the outside world in so many ways, how the boys and girls worked in different areas and never comingled unless they were coming home to their family. I explained how Rumspringa was a rite of passage into adulthood and tacitly into marriage and family life. He seemed fascinated. I told him how years of ….not repression.. ..more like ignorance.. of the ways of the outside world were part of the shock and trial that was Rumspringa. Learning about and experiencing the ways of the outside world. Risking going overboard but hopefully pulling back before anything was done that could not be undone. Putting the lessons of morality, propriety and resistance of temptation to a real life test. He listened attentively and seemed captivated and intrigued. After I ran out of things to say, he kneaded his chin and regarded me so long and hard that I became uncomfortable and really self conscious.

“Will you go back? Could you go back?”

“After what I have already experienced in the outside world...... and knowing that I have only scratched the surface..... No. I don't think I could.” I hadn't even admitted that to myself until this moment.

"What will you do?” Luc asked.

“....I have no idea.....” I said to myself as much as to him.

We had a very pleasant evening. Nothing got out of control, or even too heated. Luc was charming, and I suspected, maybe a bit of a romantic. Or maybe that's 'just how they do it' in his country. I smiled at the thought.

He walked me back to the hostel and left me with a long, languid kiss on the steps. I had to take a moment and collect my wits before breezing in. I hoped no one saw us outside.

Apparently no one had, since Chastity & Temperance greeted me disinterestedly as I walked into the common area. Tem was helping Chastity highlight her tips, and Felicity was lost in a gossip magazine.

“How is Constance?” Chastity asked politely.

“Oh. You know. I really have missed her.” I replied distractedly. “I'm exhausted. I'll see you in the morning” I said walking to my cot.

“Sweet dreams” Chastity chirped.

“Yeah. Of your Frenchman.” Tem hooted. I smiled. I choose to blame her for putting the idea in my head.

I don't ever recall having a sex dream before. In fact, I almost never remember my dreams at all. This one I will never forget. Luc was exploring every inch of my body. He nibbled my earlobes and worked his way down the nape of my neck. I could feel his hot breath as his tongue flicked the erect nipples of my swollen breasts. His strong hands reached down to brush my inner thighs, then slid up to my lower back as he pressed himself into me and I began to wrap my legs around his waist.....

I awoke with a start. The sheets were soaked. For a moment I thought I had wet the bed. Then I realized I was drenched in sweat , breathing rapidly and my heart was racing. I reached down between my legs, surprised to find that everything was still there, still tucked away, and not in any way I could determine, physically aroused. Still, the whole area was moist and slippery with sweat. What the hell was happening to me?

I got up and washed myself up quietly. I don't think I disturbed anyone else. I thought, maybe this happens to others occasionally too, and the rest of us just sleep through it. I lay awake the rest of the night, hoping I didn't talk in my sleep.

Luc and I had exchanged numbers over drinks and snacks after the film festival. He asked how I would feel about being photographed. I told him I hadn't really given it any thought, and wondered why he wanted me as a subject. He explained he thought it would be an interesting photo essay to do a piece on a small town girl from essentially the 18th century suddenly thrust into the life of a modern American woman. I expressed surprise that no one had done this before. He speculated that even if it had been done, it was unlikely that it had been done by another cultural outsider – a photojournalist from another country. I think he was beginning to imagine himself as a 21st century DeTocqville. I agreed to do it without much enthusiasm. I didn't feel any misgivings about being the subject of his photo essay, once he agreed to keep my identity and past totally vague. He could show other communities similar to mine and explore our ways, but he couldn't talk about my life, my town or anything specific to my past before Rumspringa. I would be a symbol... an icon. I also counted on the fact that he really wouldn't cover anything specific about me before my arrival in Chicago – as Allison.

The next 10 days were exciting and fun. He was shooting stills and video, occasionally interviewing me – in French – about my experiences with the outside world. I explained to him that I really hadn't experienced much of it. We decided in a meeting. Actually HE decided, since he was going to pay for it – that I needed to experience more of America.

He had finished looking at schools and was planning to return home for no particular reason. Suddenly his 'Girl meets World' project gave him a reason to stay the summer.

I saw little of my friends, as we'd disappear for days at a time. I think they thought that he was trying to seduce me, or vice versa. Either way, they were convinced that it was going to end badly.

Actually, Luc was in love with his art, and while he did make love to me in his own way, it was always through the camera. I had a hard time recognizing the beautiful images he captured with the soul looking out at the world through these two eyes. He was amused that when I commented on the photos and videos, I always referred to the subject in the third person. Always 'she'. Never 'me'.

Luc was a true artist. And a true romantic. We flew to South Beach and he got my reaction to the opulence and decadence of south Florida. And my first experience with the ocean. I always thought I'd dip my toes into the sea someday. I never imagined that they would be brightly painted toes, complimenting my string bikini.... or that I would have my own personal paparazzo documenting my wonder and delight in such excruciating detail.

We drove to the Keys, and I got to explore the languid decadence of that unique artist and outsider enclave. Luc had a thing for outsiders. I eventually picked up on that. I wondered if he felt like an outsider himself, being the bohemian slacker in a family filled with overachievers.. I wondered if he had any idea how much of an outsider I actually was.

He was a charming and romantic companion. I think he was more in love with the idea of romance than he was with me. I was just his dance partner. We could anticipate each others every move, and we made quite the symbiotic pair. But like ideal dance partners, always, the music stopped and we went to our separate rooms. Often, I felt as if he could see into my soul. I wondered how he seemed to know that things could only go so far, and while he would eagerly take it to that point, he would never cross that line and require 'the talk'. I was torn between relief that it went as far as it could and no farther and guilt that I was unable to take it beyond. Still, it was like a romance. A 'G' rated Disney romance. All roses and butterflies and no soiled sheets and trips to the family planning aisle. I became used to the experience Bruce Springsteen immortalized, waking up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head. I wondered if Luc did too.

I tried to stay in touch with my friends. I'd send postcards to their last known address. Sometimes asking Luc to print up a picture from his project as a postcard I could mail. Like me sitting in Ernest Hemingway's lap, seeming to lift my sundress in a way to flash the old statue in a devilishly inappropriate way.

It would take weeks, but eventually I'd get a txt reading “BITCH! ;-D Girl, you are SO over your head. GET OUT!” and their new address. They were in St Louis for a while, and Santa Fe, and finally San Diego. Meanwhile we took a “puddle jumper” to New Orleans, tore up the French quarter, meandered over to Austin, and eventually ended up in Nevada. More specifically, Las Vegas.

I finally felt that my world-weary companion was experiencing the same culture shock I was. There are really no words for Las Vegas. I've heard other women describe childbirth this way, and it may be sacrilege, but I'll risk it. If you have never experienced Vegas first hand, you really can't grasp what it's like. It's human aspiration – and shortcoming – writ large. It's over the top opulence and gaudiness, living right up the street from bleak despair. Shrines to The High Roller obscuring the trailer parks and encampments of those who were unable to escape the gravity well of the broken dream. We met some lovely people there. Many worked at the B & C list establishments and were philosophical about their role in the scheme of things. Luc somehow managed to get us backstage to talk with showgirls about their 'glamorous' life. I was able to talk myself out of an offer to suit up and join the girls in a review that was actually early on a Wednesday and only had a smattering of seniors in the seats. I knew Luc would edit it so it seemed that I joined them on the busiest show of the week, but that was not the image I wanted to present. No 'Good Girl turns Show Girl' footage. He was good natured about it and didn't press the matter. He did say that he thought it would make his piece more commercially attractive, but agreed that it was salacious and misleading. So when the manager of the legalized bordello offered me a job, I knew Luc put him up to it as a prank. I went so far as to 'audition' with a giant rubber toy to call Luc's bluff. It worked. I'm not sure if he was rattled or aroused. He kept looking at me curiously.

“You know I want that memory card.” I held out my hand.

Luc frowned. “I have other stuff on there too.”

“And I won't delete any of that. But no one else will ever see THAT.”

He pouted.

“Ask me again under the right circumstance and you might just get an encore.... but for now...” I snapped my fingers and he contritely handed over the memory card.

What exactly was I obliquely promising? I wondered. Often I even surprise myself. Levi never surprised anyone.

We hit LA with a vengeance. Luc wanted to get the farmgirl who grew up with horses driving around the endless freeways in a sexy convertible. I told him I didn't drive. He seemed unfazed.

“I can teach you. It's not rocket science.”

“I don't have a license” I reminded him.

“Then you will need to be extra careful." he smiled. "This is an expensive rental.”

I actually enjoyed learning to drive. Luc was right. I took to it like a duck to water. I wanted a license. But that would be a problem. Not because I was in the databanks as Levi. More because I wasn't in the databanks at all. In some ways our little semi isolated community may have well been a different country. ...or planet. Those who left for the 'outside' or were banished needed to get someone on the inside to smuggle records... usually a page from a family bible or a photo of one... with birth info, to a sympathetic bureaucrat on the outside, often another former member of the community, for entry into the system as a routine birth certificate from any hospital. It was a bit outside the rules, but no one considered it sinister, so it could be done on those rare occasions it was needed.

In some ways that made things easier, because I could easily have a family bible entry that said “Allison Crowe”, with my chosen gender and a birthdate of my choosing.... I would keep the date, but tweak the year. Not very ladylike to INcrease the age, but it would make things much easier in so many ways, since there are so many things people under 18 are not allowed to do, yet I know I would handle responsibly. The real trick was to find someone on the inside who could smuggle documents out. I hoped Tem or Felicity would return from Rumspringa. Chastity was a sweet girl and a gentle spirit, but I did not think she would help me since she still seemed to feel guilty over her part in 'killing' Levi.

The sportscar shoot seemed to go well. I didn't damage the car, and I like to think I drove at least as well as many of the other drivers on the road. I was really getting addicted to the feel of 400 horses under my toes.

Luc met me for breakfast the next morning.

“What's next boss?” I cheerfully inquired.

“How would you like to be in the movies?” He smiled at me.

I was speechless. I had only seen my first film in a theater less than a month ago, and now he was asking me if I wanted to BE on that big screen?

“I take it that is a yes.”

I nodded, wide eyed.

It wasn't exactly as I imagined it. We were extras. A 'crowd for hire' to add realism to some Hollywood megahit.

“S'not like the old days” an old timer turned to me. “Used to be, if you needed to fill the coliseum or field a barbarian horde, you'd need the whole deal. Now they just take a few dozen people and CGI them into a massive throng, varying things with statistical algorithims.” I nodded sympathetically. I grew up without electricity or indoor plumbing, but I followed everything he said. I had come a long way in a very short while. And that wasn't even counting the gender transformation.

The casting assistant milled through the crowd pointing at people like some sort of reverse grim reaper. Those she touched beamed with joy. The moment was theirs. My new companion got the pick. I smiled in shared satisfaction, even though the fickle finger passed me by.

The crowd broke up. I milled around looking for Luc. I assume he was off getting B roll. Probably interviewing the filmmakers, insinuating himself as one of the people hired by the studio to shoot DVD extras. I wondered if the only reason he got me this gig was so that he could tag along with me and get onto the set. I didn't mind either way. If not for him I wouldn't be having this wonderful experience.

I roamed over to the commissary and had a salad. I marveled that I was sitting two tables from 'America's favorite Dad' and a table full of zombies. ...And I thought Vegas was surreal! It's probably the best that they keep us so in the dark, I mused. We would never leave for Rumspringa if we had any clue what the world was capable of. I couldn't suppress my grin.

I ambled back toward the set hoping to find Luc. My “Visitor/Extra” sticker must have fallen off my top. No surprise. It was quite lacy and there wasn't much for the pass to stick to. Luc thought it looked sexy and would increase the odds of my being picked for an extra. Fail buzzer.

I noticed there was a small crowd gathered outside the building where the extras gathered before. I presumed this was a new crew for a new shoot, but I didn't know where else to wait fot Luc. He had dropped me off here, I would wait for him here.

While I sat waiting, trying to find open wifi on my smartphone, a woman approached me.

“Would you be a dear and inform Linda that Sue had to bail. Christ, I think I must have that norovirus or something. Tell her I'm SO sorry and I owe her big”

None of that made any sense to me, but she seemed deeply distressed, so I just nodded reassuringly and she walked away looking relieved.

I sat for a half hour waiting for Luc. The door opened and a woman with a clipboard shouted to the crowd “Sue?” four women stood up, looking at each other.

“Sue McMillan” she clarified. Everyone sat down. I looked around. The woman looked perplexed. I held up my hand. She turned to me. What the hell.... was I in school? Why was my hand in the air. I walked up to the woman. “Sue was taken ill. She asked me to...”

“Ok” the woman smiled. “Wardrobe is over there” she pointed as she ushered me into the building.

I had given up wondering what would happen next. Rumspringa was notorious for the unexpected. I had long ago prepared myself to just go with it, confident that God had a plan. Many unimaginable things had happened, but they all turned out well. More than well. I was more alive than I had ever been. I would take a deep breath and surrender myself to destiny.

Another woman with a clipboard looked at me. “Where's Sue?”

“She took sick. Violently. She asked me....”

“You are?”

“Ali. ….Allison Crowe”

“Crow?” she scribbled in her clipboard

“With an 'e'” she scribbled a bit more.

“SAG card?”

I just looked at her quizically.

She scowled. “Oh shit. She's got to stop doing this Jerry!” she shouted to the man across the stage.

She walked to him and they had a heated conversation. He kept glancing at me. He put his arms on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. Eventually she calmed down and he let go. She came walking back to me.

“Look, I'm sorry if I.... Sue asked me to..”

“It's not you” she shrugged “I'm Carmen, by the way. It's just that she's been doing this a lot lately. She's been an a-list player for years, but lately she's been unreliable..... though she always sends a-list subs.... even if they're undocumented....” she shot me a dirty look, then a guilty shrug “...look, I know it's not you. It's a good break, and she's a great judge of talent. It's just such a fucking paperwork nightmare!” She looked at me as if realizing that I wasn't the cause of her frustration, and realizing that venting her frustration wasn't fair to me. “Fill out these forms and we'll get shit sorted. Wardrobe's over there. Were you briefed on the trick?”

I stared at her blankly.

“Of course you weren't” she rolled her eyes. “Still, Sue wouldn't have sent you if she didn't think you were up for it. You'll be fine.” She pointed to another group about 60 feet away. “Go suit up and study the stunt”.

I kind of amazed myself at my willingness to unquestioningly do as I was told. Some part of me was watching this as if passively witnessing an unfolding story. Part of me was quaking in my boots.

Speaking of boots.... the wardrobe department, which is where Carmen directed me, eyed me skeptically as I approached.

“Where's Sue?” The chubby blonde asked. I shrugged.

The tall brunette eyed me up and down. “You have to give THAT to Sue. She knows how to pick a doppelganger.” They sat me down and stripped me down to my underwear, going over me with a measuring tape, just to confirm what they had judged with their eyes.

“She's a bit small around the bust” the first one said.

“What bust?” I smiled at her.

“I was trying to be diplomatic” she smiled back.

Number two returned with more 'chicken cutlets'. No. They were more than that. They were actual, silicone breasts!

The blonde then took something off a nearby rack and handed it to me.

It was a leather catsuit and a pair of alarmingly sexy boots.

As Andi, the tall dark haired one, was gluing 'my boobs' on, Cathy the wardrobe assistant explained that it was actually pleather with a kevlar mesh lining. It was much stretchier than real leather, but the kevlar gave it almost as much protection as real leather.

“Protection against what?” I asked innocently.

“I thought you folks didn't talk about those sorts of things?” Andi joked. I smiled nervously wondering what I had gotten myself into.

The 'trick' as it turned out was a stunt for a deodorant commercial. The heroine, in her sexy leather catsuit with trim in the company colors, rides her matching motorcycle away from a baddie in a helicopter. He swoops down to finish her off, she pulls out a whip, Indiana Jones-like, uses it to snare his hand and pull him from the helicopter. As it careens away, she turns back to see ominous black muscle cars closing in on her, she then looks ahead to see a line of cars stopped for a passing freight train. With no hesitation, she guns the throttle, riding up the conveniently sloped back of the last car in line and jumps the train, safely screeching to a stop on the other side. Flipping up her helmet to reveal the actual spokesmodel, Janine, who from her now idling bike whips out her can of deodorant, looks straight into the camera and says “Panache. Cool under pressure.”

The helicopter part was easy since that was 'wire work'. The bike and I were on a flatbed and the bottom of the copter was suspended from the side. The crew drove beside us, everything happened at about 20 miles an hour but I knew they'd make it look much faster. I pulled Mike, 'the bad guy' from the copter out for six takes. He hit the mattress on the flatbed every time. I was then given my real bike, a Ducati concept bike that looked like something from the 22nd century. I asked if I could take it around a bit and get used to it. They were more than happy to give me some time to practice. Maybe I would have got more time if I told them that I had never ridden a motorcycle before, let alone an experimental prototype ...and over a moving train. I was no way near as scared as I should have been. In hindsight, I don't think it would be possible to be scared enough. We did some static shots first, me riding the bike at top speed really close past the camera. I don't think the camera crew was expecting me to buzz them THAT close. When I swung back, they looked a little annoyed, but when I did it exactly the same way on a few more takes, they seemed to realize that I was really in control and appeared to be enjoying the wake as I buzzed past them about 18 inches away. We got all the coverage, now it was time for the big trick. If anything happened to the bike – or its rider – they had already got all the other footage. And Janine had shot her tagline earlier when the bike was shiny clean. John, the D.P. gave everyone the talk, doublechecked that all the cameras were set, and admonished us that he didn't want to do this too many times, as it was very complicated and a lot could go wrong. No one needed to tell me that. Cal, the stage manager marked off a spot on the road with gaffer's tape. “What do you think? About here?” I looked up and down the road, furrowing my brow and trying to look like I was doing the math in my head.

“Sure. Looks good” I had no idea if this was far enough back, but I hoped he did.

Jerry called “action” and I punched it. The car at the end had a small fiberglass ramp about 3 feet wide running up its back, but the cameras were positioned where it wouldn't be visible. I was doing 112 when I hit the end of the ramp, and I knew immediately I was way too slow to get enough lift to clear the train. But the train I was supposed to go over was a boxcar with opened doors. I guess some thought it was more visual. I thought I might make the doors, but worried that I was too high. I crouched down so hard that I became one with the paintjob. It was a milisecond, and I realized I wasn't dead. But I instantly realized I could still be in a world of hurt if I didn't nail the landing. No way I was going to make the ramp on the other side. That was supposed to break my landing when I jumped OVER the train. Now I had to make sure I didn't fly right onto the front of it. I leaned hard to the right and just missed sideswiping the scaffolding. I was heading right for the camera crew. They looked startled and alarmed, but they were pros... they stood their ground. I spun around in a 180, giving the throttle a kick so I could burn off some momentum like airbrakes on a jet. I sprayed dust and grit on the camera crew and heard them yell, but it worked and I managed to stop the bike before hurtling into them.

“What the hell happened?!!!” Jerry bellowed as he came over.

I took off my helmet and smiled. It may have looked like confidence, but I was just giddy to still be alive and in one piece. “I couldn't get enough speed. I miscalculated the runup.” I saw Cal looking sheepish, but relieved that I was taking the blame. “I knew I couldn't clear the top of the train, so I improvised.” I shrugged. Jerry just glared at me and walked over to see the playback. I joined him and apologised to the crew for spraying them. As they watched the playback and saw what they captured, I think their resentment evaporated and they forgave me.

“Hah!” some guy in the group watching the playback stood up and stuck his finger in Jerry's face. “That's the way we storyboarded it in the first place and YOU said it couldn't be done!” he then walked my way while fishing for his cellphone “Nice job, little lady” he said.

I was in the middle of replying “we aim to please” when he slapped me on the ass as he walked by. I spun around to show him what I was aiming for now, when I noticed he was already oblivious, lost in his cellphone conversation.

“Agency” Jerry shrugged. I smiled, knowing that what he really meant was “middle management tool”

“So...” he spun me around and put his hands on my shoulders. “Ready to set up and go again?”

I looked at him in disbelief. After what I'd just gone through, I became convinced that God wasn't through with me yet. But I was not going to ask for a second take on a miracle.

“I don't think I could ever do that again.”

“Yeah...” he smiled sadly. “But as a pretty girl, you KNOW, a guy's gotta ask....”

I laughed and any tension was broken.

“Anyway. What we got was good. Even better than what we hoped for.” You're done for the day. It was a real pleasure to work with you and I hope I get to do it again soon. He shook my hand.

I smiled and I think I may have blushed a little.

“But next time we have to get you out of a helmet. That smile is a special effect of its own.”

This time I blushed a lot.

I headed back to the wardrobe table, but the girls weren't there. A P.A. Said they went to craft services. She said no one expected us to wrap this early.

I remembered that I totally forgot about Luc. I went to my bag and checked my phone. There were 8 increasingly alarming texts. I texted him back “something unexpected came up. Meet up where we left in 5. <3 A.“ I told the PA I'd be back and grabbed the helmet as I walked toward the door to the parking lot. Luc was standing near the entrance, looking around, scanning the crowd. While I think he was looking for me, he was also hungrily taking in everything. He was studying to be a filmmaker. I'm guessing for him this is like a kid's first trip to Disney World. He looked overwhelmed by it all, so the hot biker chick in the leather catsuit was just one more over-the-top sight. Until she strutted right up to him.

The heels made me tall enough to look him straight in the eye, maybe I was even half an inch taller. I walked right up to him, put my right hand to the small of his back and pushed him up to me, while flipping up the visor with my left hand. “So. How was YOUR day, dear?” I purred.

The expression on his face is etched in my mind. I see it every time I close my eyes and it never fails to make me smile.

I insisted that Luc get some stills and videos of me vamping in the suit, tossing my hair and looking all badass holding my helmet. I hoped he would be able to get permission to use the ad in his finished piece, and if he did, we would need some evidence that it really was me in the suit under that helmet. I wished I could pose by the bike, but I knew that was pushing it. I'm not even sure Luc believed me, so I had him join me as I went back to the wardrobe table where Cathy and Anita were ready to disassemble me and help me get back into my ordinary human clothes. As I got dressed again, I turned my back as I peeled off the catsuit and slipped on my top. Maybe they thought I was modest, but I was really hoping that they wouldn't remember the amazing silicone breasts they equipped me with. I got my top on, though it was really snug with the boobs sticking out like Lara Croft, so I threw on my hoodie pretending I was cold and left it unzipped but draped over my breasts. Either they didn't notice or they decided to give the flat girl a break, because no one said anything. We were talking about the shoot. I asked if they saw it and they said no. They were inside pulling wardrobe for another upcoming shoot. They said they would ask some of the crew to show them playback later since so many people were buzzing about it. I took the liberty of walking Luc out to the back lot where they were striking the gear. I asked one of the assistants if my boyfriend could see the playback from the shoot, and he brought us over to a table where Luc could watch the raw footage. This was really the best, because on the 6 windows with the different camera views you could see me at the starting mark as I put my helmet on, so he really knew it was me. He asked to see it 4 or 5 times until he noticed they were getting irritated. Then he just stared at me. I shrugged like 'yeah. That all went just the way I planned it.' I was glad they stopped the cameras before I took the helmet off after the stunt, and there is no recording of my face as I was trying to understand why I wasn't decapitated by the train, splattered like a bug at the base of the ramp or smeared all over the pavement. I just smiled blissfully at his slackjawed face and said “Thanks for taking me to be in the movies. This was a great idea. It was fun.”

“Who ARE you???” I thought he was joking around, but I began to wonder if he was just a little bit serious.

“You know me better than anyone. The real me.” Despite what he didn't know, he really did know more of the real me than anyone else. “Oh, by the way....” I said turning to look at the Ducati as they loaded it into a trailer “would you drive home? ...I am so over cars.” he pinched my waist and I squealed with surprise and mock pain. I returned the pinch and broke away, racing him to our parked rental car. It was a good day.

Summer was winding down and so was our Rumspringa. Soon we'd be heading home to help with the harvest, choose a spouse and take our new roles as adults in the community. Or not. Our original group stuck together all summer long – except me. As far as the boys knew, they lost Levi on the second day, so they never noticed they weren't one indivisible group being tested in the impious outside world. The girls knew different, but I think they were relieved. “Alison” was not part of their original group and explaining her continued presence to the boys would have proved increasingly awkward. My running off with Luc actually made their life much easier. Since we were all in California, we arranged to 'bump into each other' in San Francisco, The boys would get to meet Luc, - who I did inform that they didn't know I was 'like them' and it would only confuse them and complicate things if they found out. Again, the words I used explaining the situation to him were all 100% true – yet I know he took them to mean something completely different, but much more plausible. He agreed to keep my secret. Temperance, Chastity and Felicty would join me for a 'girls day out' where I would explain what I intended to do as Rumspringa ended. I think we all – well everyone but Chastity – knew what was going to happen, but the exact details would be a mystery.

Luc and I flew in a few days before the others, who were driving up the coast. I discovered that they had actually managed to sneak off and get licenses in March in preparation for their wild Rumspringa adventure. From how long it took them to arrive, I thought they were sightseeing. I later found out that the two boys insisted on doing all the driving but they both drove so slowly that they kept getting pulled over by police who noticed that they weren't elderly and so presumed the only other reason for their behavior was that they must be high. I found this quite amusing, and learned later that the girls did too...at first. After the fourth time, it stopped being funny. Much to the boy's annoyance Tem & Felicity would wait for the officer to come to the window and shout from the back seat “We're not high. We're Amish.” This wasn't technically true, but people knew Amish and no one knew our community. It was a close enough shorthand that it usually worked, The boys would get a stern lecture about not being a traffic hazard and be sent on their way. It took them 4 days to drive up from San Diego, so we explored the wine country. Luc loved it, and I think it made him a bit homesick. He hadn't talked of France at all until we got to Sonoma, but suddenly everything reminded him of a story, and he opened up to me. I learned more about him in those four days than I did in the previous 6 weeks... and it only made me want him more. I think he thought the same, because he talked about kids, and how big a family he'd like... the life he'd like to build once he finished school and settled down. He never mentioned me, but the fact that he shared all these intimate thoughts and plans with me, I never thought for a moment that this conversation was intended for anyone else. We were falling for each other hard, and that made me profoundly happy and deeply troubled. I knew there would be a reckoning, but hoped it wouldn't be for a while, because at the moment I had no idea what to do about it.

We met up with the group in San Francisco. The boys never questioned that it was pure coincidence, and I had to push it by joking that I wanted to name my first born “Serendipity”. This brought subtle glares from the girls, who I could tell were not happy with how comfortable I had become with myself. Temperance whispered in my ear “'Hubris' would be more like it.” I smiled and replied that it sounded appropriately French and that Luc probably wouldn't object. That only made her more upset.

“You are flirting with disaster! There is no way this can end well. And you are already in so deep. What is your plan?”

“I don't have one” This did not calm her. “But I have faith that God does.”

“Yes. It's called vengeance. You will reap what you have sewn.”

“I'm hopeful. I anguished over this. I did not plan this. I never had the imagination to conceive of any of this. I took it to be God's plan for me. And I've done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Except pretending to be someone you're not”

I looked at her. “And whose idea was that, originally?” She cast her eyes down, ashamed. I lifted her chin to look her in the eyes as compassionately as I could. “Hey. I'm not blaming you. In fact, I think I'm thanking you. I believe we were both part of something much bigger than us. We both did what we were supposed to and it led us here. I'm happy. For the first time in my life, I realize. I had never been happy in my old life, but you don't know what you don't know. I never knew it until this new life, when I experienced happiness for the first time. I believe with every fiber of my being that this is my destiny and always has been. I have no idea where it will lead, but I believe God has a plan and I just need to trust in it. I will always be grateful to you, Felicity ...and even Chastity. You gave me my life, and I can't express my gratitude.”

I'm not sure she was ok with my path or her role in it, but my words did touch her. We locked in a tight, blubbering hug.

As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she smiled shyly at me “So I guess I won't ask if you've bought your bus ticket home?”

I smiled back. “I was thinking of moving in with my sister until I get settled. She won't be happy about it, but she won't turn me away. Luc starts school in the fall, and I can get a job – and a GED.... if someone can get me some paperwork.” I smiled back.

“I'm sure that can be arranged. Allison Crowe, huh? Female?”

“And 18 while you're at it.”

“What's one more lie?” she smiled.

“18 will make things much less complicated”

“And the last thing you want in your life is any ..complication!” she laughed.

I knew we were out of dangerous emotional territory, and even if she wasn't happy about it, Temperance was making her peace with my decision – and her role in it. We were good, the two of us.

The boys really wanted to explore bawdy San Francisco, I think partly out of boisterous boyishness but also because it made Chastity so uncomfortable and they found that an endless source of delight. The seven of us wandered around the Castro, with the boys wide eyed and slackjawed. Luc was amused. Photographing the gawking tourists and the unfazed locals. We ended up in a gay club watching a drag show. I must admit this was the first time I was self conscious.

“I can't believe they're not real girls!” Seth shouted over the throbbing music.

“They are kind of … more girl than girls. Yes?” Luc replied.

Just then this spectacular drag queen in a glamorous evening dress ran an opera gloved hand up Luc's cheek and said “Why don't you come with me and I'll show you how much more than girl.”

Luc laughed and thanked her for the offer, but said he came with his friends and he intended to leave with them. She looked us over, and seemed to stare at me particularly hard. “Your loss.” she smiled. She then sat her round behind on Jakob's lap thrusting his face into her 'cleavage' “How 'bout you Jethro? Are they all this sturdy back on the farm?”

It's Jakob, not Jethro. And how did you know I'm a farmer ,,,,ma'am?”

She shook her head. “Really? It was a joke. But you are.” she looked us over again. “Aren't you all a long way from home?”

“I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore” I quipped. She smiled. Relieved to find someone who got her sense of humor.

“Oh honey, you two never were.” She said to Luc and me. “How did you two hook up with the cast of little house?”

“It's a long story” I smiled.

“They all are. But I get paid to peddle drinks, so order a round and tell me about it.”

Jakob eagerly picked up the round of watery cocktails. I'm not sure he knew – or still knows – what a drag queen was. But Rumspringa was almost over and he just had someone smash their boobs in his face, so he was feeling generous. I was feeling a bit depressed. The drag queen had far bigger boobs and much fuller hips than I did. And a tiny wasp waist. She really was more girl than girls.

“Well, now that you've come to the pool party, slip off your shoes and jump in. Let's give you some stories to tell them back in Smallville!” as she pulled Jakob onto the dancefloor. He was grinning like an idiot. I began to worry for him. I pulled Luc to me and shouted in his ear. “He's a bit like a small child at a carnival. I worry that he will get swept up in the excitement and join the circus.” Luc nodded.

“Seth and Jakob said they already lost one of their party. We should keep him close.”

“Are you asking me to dance?” I smiled. He grabbed my hand and we hit the floor.

The drag queens were amused by the two of us, but unimpressed by me. I was a good foot shorter than any of them, far less glamorous, and a very boring dancer. They kept cutting in, making very seductive, suggestive dance moves with Luc who seemed amused as they would then step aside expecting me to mimic what they just tried to teach me. I halfheartedly copied them somehow turning the most lewd dance moves into something G-rated, and aware by the heat in my cheeks that I must have been blushing bright crimson. They were initially disappointed at my inability to 'vamp it up' but soon turned it into a game of 'how can Sandy Duncan wholesomize THIS move?' They were getting more and more forward with Luc and I was beginning to sense his increasing discomfort as things escalated, so I waved my hands in an 'I give up' gesture, smiled at the queens and gave a little mock-curtsey, taking a relieved Luc by the hand and leading him back to our table.

Our waitress, who I learned was “Lawauqa Chaime” complimented us on being good sports and model tourists, and joked that we should make an instructional YouTube when we get back to Smallville called 'how to behave at a drag club'. I mentioned that I wasn't sure Seth & Jakob understood where they were and she smiled. “We quickly figured that out. It happens. We're just having some fun with them. They'll be fine. And they seem to be enjoying themselves too... in their own, clueless way.” I suddenly got a strong mother hen vibe from our drag hostess, and I stopped worrying. “What about the rest of you? You're here, have some fun. It's open night mic. Ever do drag?” she looked at Luc, who looked at me. She then waved her hand at him. Ahh... you're too hunky anyway. Get back on the dancefloor and make the queens throw themselves at you. …..but YOU....” she stared at me. “Can you lipsync?” I just stared back like a deer in headlights. She knew. “The drag kings are on in about a half hour. Do you know any Elvis songs? Or Johnny Cash?” Wait. What did she say?

“Drag ….kings?”

“Oh honey, we're an equal opportunity drag club. Everybody gets their chance to blur the lines. What do you say?”

I blushed and smiled. “I... I don't think I could....” I couldn't stop smiling, but I felt I was being rude, so I brought my hand up to my mouth to cover my permasmile.

“BZZZZZT!” our hostess made a fail buzzer sound. “Forget it. You'd never pull it off. But if you ever want to pull a Victor Victoria, we could make a respectable queen out of you. A little short, but with a lot of padding and a little glitter we could turn you into a glamazon.”

I smiled, a little more relaxed this time. “Thanks. I'll keep that in mind”

She then sized up the other three girls and quickly focused on Chastity's stocky frame.
“You! You've done drag before. Am I right?”

Chas squirmed and turned bright red.

“I don't think our friend understands your question. She's pretty …..sheltered. She thought she would go to hell the first time we tried to talk her into wearing pants.” Felicity chirped.

While this was all true, only Chas and I knew of her day as Chaz, and I had no intention of spilling her secret.

“She's a bit of a wallflower. I can't see her standing on a stage dressed as a boy OR a girl.” I said.

“Too bad” Lawauqa said. “You'd make a fierce Roy Orbison” Chas shrugged and shot me a 'thank you' look. “Well, enjoy watching the show tourists. But if you just came to look, you coulda stayed in Kansas and ordered HBO.”

We had a fun but uneventful night. As we walked back to our hotel, Felicity quipped about one more memorable night they would never be able to talk about. Temperance teased Chastity for chickening out on the drag king open mic. Chastity shot back “I didn't see any of YOU racing to the stage”

“Y'know who would have been good? Levi.” Seth muttered. Jakob nodded. I suddenly became aware of sideways glances from all the other girls.

“He's the one you … lost?” Luc asked

“Broke is more like it” Jakob guffawed. “Those girls still won't say what they did to him, but he high tailed it home so fast..... he probably saw a little boobie and ran home to soap his eyes.” I was not amused by his stupid grin.

“Nah.” Seth said. “He'd make a lousy drag queen. He's too short. And way too shy. Did you see the way those drag queens were dancing with Luc? I can't imagine Levi doing that. Ha! Even Alison couldn't compete with them.”

“Will you please stop comparing me to drag queens? And can we change the subject?” I pleaded.

“And besides, he could never get into the club. He's too young.” Jakob mused.

“OK. It was a stupid idea.” Seth conceded. “But if he stayed, imagine how much fun we could have had with him over the last couple months.”

“As the butt of your jokes and pranks? Maybe that's why he ran away. Maybe it had nothing to do with the girls.” I said. Wait. Was I defending my former self for my fictional actions?

“Aaah. We'd just tease him. He loved the attention.” Seth retorted.

“Sounds like something a bully would say.” I shot back. The subject was quickly changed.

We spent another day hanging around San Francisco together, and it was a different experience for everyone. To Jakob and Seth, I was the girl they met at the mall and rode with to Chicago, to Luc I was spending the last days with people who shared a similar upbringing and saying a final farewell to any reminders of my old life. My three girlfriends knew this was our final goodbye and they were all at a bit of a loss as to what to make of the whole experience or the way it turned out. Swearing Chastity to secrecy was not a problem, because she felt what happens on Rumspringa is never to be talked or even thought about once one returns. I did try to get her to let go of some of the terrible guilt she felt about her part in 'killing Levi'. We all told her the only one who felt bad about this was her, and I for one thanked her for her unwitting part in this. I hoped she could learn to at least let it go, even if she could never be as positive about it as I was. Temperance and I devised a cover story as to why Levi never returned. While officially not being able to talk about Rumspringa, she will be the essence of calm and claim she knows Levi is safe, but by the rules of Rumspringa, she's not able to talk about it. She will privately assure my father that she knows I'm living with my sister in Chicago, and my failure to return was not turning my back on the community but my inability to turn my back on my sister who is all alone in the secular world. That is essentially the truth, with – as I become disturbingly good at – strategic omissions and misdirections that aren't outright untruths. Papa would know Constance and I are looking out for each other, and while I will miss him, I always sensed that he felt the burden of not being the father he wanted to be. He will no longer have that burden. And Tem promised to make clear that Connie and I will miss him dearly and keep him in our hearts and prayers, with an open invitation should he ever find himself in Chicago. While I think the odds of our quaint agrarian community starting its own space program are likelier than my dad ever making it to Chicago, should that remote possibility ever occur, I figure explaining my gender change would be one of the least unlikely obstacles.

Luc went home for a few weeks to visit with his family before returning for fall semester, and I showed up on Connie's doorstep. As expected, she was not happy to see me, but she didn't turn me away.

“So. Rumspringa's over and you're not going back?”

“How can I?”

She appraised me for a long time. “No. Of course you can't. Well life on this side of the divide is no Rumspringa vacation. I want you to know that from the start.”

“I never thought it would be.” I replied. By 'the divide' I thought she meant the gender divide. She didn't.

“The secular world is both better and worse than the world we grew up in. We were so sheltered. And Rumspringa can only hint at the differences.”

“Do you regret leaving?”

“.............No. …..I may have thought I did once or twice..... but that was just homesickness....... or maybe nostalgia..... I miss Mama........”

“I'm sorry.” I hung my head.

“Oh my God, NO!” She ran to me and wrapped me in her arms. “You were a baby. You had nothing to do with it.”

“I had everything to do with it. She died having me.”

“But... it's not your FAULT. My God. You were a newborn! God's will was done and you were a part of it, but you had no say and you have no responsibility! Is that really how you feel?”

“It's always how I felt with papa. I know when he looked at me, he saw her. And it made him miss her. So he would have as little to do with me as possible. I understood. I never took it personally. But it still made me hurt knowing I brought him such pain.”

She hugged me tighter. “Oh, you poor fucked up kid. I feel awful leaving you. I never knew you were carrying this shit around.” I laughed. Which broke the tension.

“What's so funny?” she smiled.

“You” I sheepishly grinned. “I've never heard you curse.”

Connie blushed. “You ain't heard nothing yet. Oh, kiddo. This world is SO different from everything you know.”

“Then I'm glad I have you. I can't imagine the kids who venture out alone …..like you did”

She hugged me tighter. “It was a helluva shock, but I got over it. I'm ok now. My life is …..good.”

“Do you miss any of it?”

“I miss you.... MISSED you.... and papa.... though he was never really close.... I think some of that distance you felt.... it wasn't you.... he was just never very good with people.... except with mama..... maybe it's because she was SO good with people that it made up for him being not so good, so between them they were a great match, even if it was 80% her and 20% him, they were each bringing everything they had to the relationship, and between them, it was 100%.”

“I never thought of it that way”

“Why would you? You never knew her.”

“I know. I wish I did.”

She smiled sadly. “The funny thing is. You are so much like her. And now.... like this....” she swept her hand over me “....you even fucking LOOK like her. ...More than I ever did!”

I put my finger to her lips and clucked my tongue. “When was the last time you tasted a bar of soap?” I chided.

Her eyes went wide ….and sad. “Jesus Christ you even fucking SOUND like her. Oh God. Thank God you were born a boy. This would have killed papa. It's just too much.” Suddenly she got all distant.

“OK. Levi. You're my guest until you get settled in this world, and I'm happy to help. But you are my houseguest. And I am your big sister. And YOU are my little brother! Throw your stuff in the closet. The futon is your bed unless you want to sleep on my yoga mat. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, I have to go shopping.” She abruptly grabbed her coat and left.

I tried to process what just happened. We were bonding. Beginning to make up for the lost decade since she left. She got all nostalgic, teared up talking about mama, and regarded me so warmly then her gaze slowly turned to something else.... something cold. She tersely welcomed me and abruptly left.

I knocked around her studio apartment, quickly realizing that it would be cramped for one person, and I just doubled the occupancy by showing up on her doorstep. I wondered when Connie would be back... if it was something I did that caused her to storm off... and what that might have been so I could apologize for any unwitting offense and try to avoid it in the future. I was a grateful houseguest and I didn't want to put her out any more than I needed to. I tried to earn my keep by cleaning the dishes in the sink, sponging down the spattered kitchen appliances, and picking up some of the clutter around the apartment. I was beginning to realize that my sister was a bit of a slob.

I found some cottage cheese in the fridge and discovered the TV remote in the pocket of the futon. I was exploring her endless cable selection when I finally settled on some melodrama on Lifetime. Figuring out her TV remote was way easier than figuring out her thermostat, so I grabbed a comforter out of her closet and settled in to watch the movie.

I heard her keys in the door, but she was in before I could get up. She stood in the doorway observing me. I don't know why, but she made me feel very guilty. I just had no idea why.

I put the cottage cheese on the end table, threw off the comforter, muted the movie and came to the door to help her.... noticing a bunch of bags behind her. She looked at me wryly and shook her head.

“Just keep a tab of everything I eat and I'll pay you back as soon as I get work.” I said as I walked to the door to notice they weren't grocery bags.

“This ends now.” she said sadly. Walking to the bathroom, she took a box of cosmetic wipes and threw them my way. “Take that shit off and get dressed like a boy.”

I don't know why she was so angry, but it was her house, and I was her guest. I didn't particularly want to take of my makeup, but I didn't view it as a big deal. She was having a bad day, and if me going nakedface would make it better, I was ok with that. When I came out with my freshly cleaned face, she was no happier. She walked up to me and ran fingers across my cheeks and eyelids, even stroking my pursed lips. I felt like it was some kind of inspection, and I was not passing.

“Christ, you still look like a girl. Those clothes don't help.” She opened one of the bags she brought back and tossed me a button down shirt and pair of tan dockers. As I was walking away to change she called to me. I turned around to see her dangling a new pair of boxers on her finger. “I don't suppose.....?” she started to say when I smiled sheepishly. “Of course not.” She balled them up and threw them at me. While I was changing in the bathroom, Connie informed me that she was leaving shoes and socks by the door. When I walked out into her apartment she scowled, eyed me long and hard and finally muttered “...the hair.... it's gotta be the hair”. She tossed me a Cubs cap. I put it on, pulling my hair through the back.

“No!” she shouted. “Lose the hair!”

I looked at her with alarm. Did she want me to cut off my hair? She must have read my mind.

“….under the cap!” Phew. I quickly wrapped it into a bun while she watched, shaking her head. I pulled the hat on over my head, stuffing the stray hairs up. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“What?” I genuinely didn't know what she meant. Connie scowled.

“Wrap your hair into a bun like that?”

“I dunno. I've always done it that way. It just seems the easiest way to get it out of the way, and when I wrap it like that, it stays in place better.” She frowned and shook her head.

“No one showed you?”

“Showed me what?”

“You just always put your hair up that way?”

“No. I almost never put my hair up. I like it down. It's hot like this. Like layering blankets. But when I need to get it out of the way, this is what I'd always do.”

“Always? You mean back on the farm? Your hair was that long back on the farm?”

“Not always. But mostly. Papa would always find excuses not to cut my hair, or pretty much spend any time with me. And when I tried to do it myself, everyone called me 'scarecrow' so I just let it grow. Eventually they stopped calling me scarecrow. But they did start calling me 'Samson', so I started tying it up under my hat. I think everyone knew it was there, but they stopped teasing me. They didn't ask, and I didn't tell.” Connie snorted. “What?”

“Nevermind. You wouldn't get it. OK. Step over here. Let's have a look at you.” She stared disapprovingly as I walked to the center of the room. “Don't sway your arm. Are you slouching?”

“I dunno. Maybe. This makes me feel kind of..... depressed.”

“Good. Slouching works. Makes you look more like a boy.”

I smiled sadly, thinking of brooding Chaz. Great.

“Turn around. All the way around.” I did.

“Oh for crying out loud, move your feet! Don't turn on the balls of your feet like a freaking showgirl!”

I was trying to be a good houseguest and dutiful little brother and do as she asked, but everything I did made her yell at me more. I could feel my eyes starting to well up from the frustration and disappointment. “Oh for God's sake, don't start to CRY!....” She handed me some tissues. “Jesus, you are such a GIRL!” I couldn't completely repress the smile, but I tried. “This is not FUNNY! You are not a girl. You are a boy. Start behaving like one!”

“I really am trying. I always tried. My whole life I tried. It's always been a struggle. Watching the boys.... how they stand... how they sit... the way they carry themselves.... but seeing someone do something and learning how to do it yourself... it isn't easy. My whole life I tried to do every little thing on purpose the way others did it. Whenever I would get distracted and do something without thinking, I'd get laughed at and teased. I got good at thinking about everything.... but never so good at actually doing it.” I had forgotten this feeling. That fatigue of having to second guess everything. I hadn't felt that exhausting weight since..... that evening at the mall.

Connie frowned. “You still look like a tomboy. Well, it's a start. You hungry?” I shrugged and looked over to the cottage cheese. “That's not food. That's garnish.” she tacked on a cheerful smile. “C'mon, you're in Chicago! Let's go get some deep dish.”

I did not feel comfortable in the pizza place, there were big screens showing sports everywhere, and it was noisy and rowdy.

“You a Cubs fan miss?” The waiter asked. Connie scowled.

“It's my sisters.” I looked apologetic.

“My LITTLE BROTHER is visiting from out of town. I let HIM wear my Cubs cap so HE'D feel more at home.” she painfully explained to the waiter. Who wasn't hearing a word.

“OK. Great. Here are your menus ladies. Can I get you any drinks?”

Connie sighed loudly, “Diet coke for me. Levi?”

“Yes Constance?” I glared at her.

“...Sorry. Lee.... what would you like to drink?”

“Can I just have a water?” Connie was shaking her head.

“My BROTHER will have a large chocolate shake. And an order of chili fries.”

“Are you trying to make me throw up in your hat? Because I will.” The waiter seemed to find this funny.

“I'm paying for this meal, so I'M ordering. Now GO.” she motioned for him to leave. This just made him smile harder.

He leaned in to me “is this some kind of sorority hazing?” he whispered. I couldn't hold back the giggle. He winked at me and went away. This only made Connie angrier.

“Dammit Lee. This isn't funny!” I disagreed. It was preposterous. “Jesus Christ, you look like a starving urchin. Are you even a hundred fucking pounds?” This got the smile from my face. I hated it when she cursed. “And between your small frame and fair features, you look like you're eleven!” I shrugged. I'd always been smaller than the other kids, everyone back home just took for granted that I was a slow developer. Connie was trying to push things. I learned long ago that pushing just made things more frustrating, but it looked like she was going to have to learn this for herself, so I tried to be patient.

Finally she stopped trying to force feed me and we took the rest of the food home.

“I think you have an eating disorder. You're too skinny.”

“I think you're the one with the eating disorder. You were trying to fatten me up like a goose. I eat when I'm hungry, and I bet I'm at least as healthy as you are.”

“Don't lecture me little brother.” She was up to something, but I didn't know what. Turned out it was a trip to the mall where she took me to the haircutting place and argued with the girl who didn't want to cut off all my long hair. Connie was insistent. The girl relented, looking to me to help her argue against it. I was just trying to keep it together because I knew I was this close to bursting into tears and making an awful scene.

“Get in the chair 'Samson'!” Connie joked, trying to make light of the tense situation.

“...As you wish... Delilah.” I sighed. That shut her up. She didn't speak to me again until after we got home and she was back on her own turf.

My only consolation about the trauma of the “shearing” was that after the girl gave me the 'boy cut' that Connie insisted on, she turned to me and said “I was getting ready to call social services. I thought it was so cruel to cut off all that lovely hair, but I have to admit you have one of those magic faces. I don't know how your sister saw it, but she was right. You look just like that movie star!”

Connie's eyes lit up.

“Which one?” I asked with a quivering lip, dreading the answer.

“Oh, you know, the one from all those old black and white movies on TV? Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Sabrina...”

“Audrey Hepburn?” I beamed.

“Yes! That's the one!” She grabbed her phone. “May I get some pictures? We have to add this to our stylebook. Take THAT Supercuts!”

I beamed for the camera and giggled. Connie just rolled her eyes.

When we got back to her home, I thanked her again for taking me in and got ready for bed. I really meant it, even though I hated the way she was treating me. I knew she was doing what she thought was right, and no matter how much I disagreed with her, the only one who could change her mind was her. I just prayed it would happen soon.

“Wait a minute. What is that?”

“It's a T-shirt.”

“A BOY's T-shirt?” I nodded. Actually, it was Luc's soft old Pernod Absynthe tee and it was way too big for me. She yanked it off me. “Well, it's swimming on you. It looks like a sleepdress! Boxers only. Sleep like a boy goddamit! Wait. What are those?”

“My feet?”

“Those toes are going first thing in the morning. Is there ANYTHING about you I don't have to un-girl?” I shrugged. “Now go to bed and we'll fix the rest in the morning.”

I didn't sleep well. I kept waking up from the same dream. It wasn't the sex dream. It was the dream where I was being chased by the gang of boys in sports jerseys. I'd always get myself into a dead end or corner and wake up in a cold sweat. I'd get myself a glass of water, have a pee, and try to get back to sleep.

The next morning Connie seemed calmer. I was up when she rose. Maybe the smell of the coffee woke her up, but I couldn't sleep anyway, so as soon as I saw daylight through the window, I started making breakfast. I was sure she would at least remember sunrise breakfasts from the farm. I used to make breakfast for papa every morning then excuse myself while he ate and headed off to morning chores. At least with Connie I hoped I could sit with her during breakfast without the awkward tension.

She staggered out to the kitchenette rubbing her eyes. I smiled hopefully at her. Preparing breakfast was one thing I always did as a boy, so I hoped she would appreciate that I was trying to be who she wanted me to be. I couldn't tell from her face how she took my gesture.

“How did you sleep?” she asked groggily, I shrugged. She looked at me for an uncomfortably long time. “Well, the futon's not the most comfortable. It would be worse if you were taller.” She continued to stare at me. “So did you get up during the night?”

“A few times” I answered trying to make it sound like no big deal. What did she hear last night?

“Have a pee?” ….Odd question.

I nodded. “A few times. Must have been the milkshake.” She snorted. She kept staring.

“…..well....... thanks for putting the seat back down.” I blushed a little. That was what she was waiting for. “OK. I just don't get it! You ARE a BOY goddamit!” and she reached out and pulled down my boxers.

I was mortified and recoiled into a kind of fetal position. She immediately regretted her brash outburst, I could tell. But my shock and embarrassment outweighed any compassion I had for her.

“Connie! Constance! How COULD you?”

She regained her composure and tried to keep up her righteous attitude. “It's nothing I haven't seen before. I used to change you, remember?” Then she stared at my nakedness. “It's just as I remember it.”

I blushed. This was beyond embarrassing.

“....actually, it's exactly the way I remember it. I would have thought it would be ...bigger... by now.”

“Can I die now? Please?” Finally, her shame caught up to her. She muttered “Sorry” and rushed out of the room.

To say things were awkward between us would be an understatement. Finally, she broke the ice.

“So. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“What?”

“The dreams. You do know that you talk in your sleep don't you?” I had always wondered, but hoped it was just my imagination. I shook my head. “Who were you running from?”

“Boys.”

“What boys?”

I shrugged. “No boys in particular. Just a bunch of jocks in sports jerseys.”

“Why are they chasing you?” I shrugged. “What happens when they catch you?”

“I don't want to find out. I know that. It's terrifying, but I always wake up just as they catch me.”

“Is this a dream or did it really happen?” she asked.

I shrugged, I really didn't remember. “All I know is it feels real. Everytime.”

“You have this dream a lot?” I nodded. “All the time?” I shook my head. It just dawned on me.

“Not for the past month and a half.” Connie gave me a hard look, trying to decide whether I was trying to pull something.

“So while you were Alison, you didn't have dreams?”

“Of course I had dreams.”

“Not this dream.” I shook my head. She raised an eyebrow. “Any OTHER recurring dreams?” I went crimson. Once again, my body betrays me. She took this in and thought for a long while.

“You know you suck at being a boy?”

I scowled. “....I really DO try....”

“I know you do sweetie. But let's face it, I make a better boy than you do.” My laugh sounded bitter, though I don't think I felt bitter. Just …....bemused.

“Sorry about everything. Especially the hair. But it will grow back. I'll stop trying to make you something you obviously are not.... no matter how hard you try. If it's any consolation, until your hair grows out, you make a pretty hot dyke.” I didn't find that consoling at all, but she was making an effort so I smiled weakly. Maybe now we could stop fighting.

I thanked God that she stopped trying to make me into the little brother she missed growing up with and started accepting me for the sibling she never really knew. That we could work on. Levi was always just an illusion, so she couldn't bring him back. But I was real, and once she accepted that, we worked on making up for all those lost years.

I found she was a lot like my father, only without the brooding. She was headstrong and slow to come around, but once you won her to your side, she was steadfast. She described herself as a pitbull. I think she was proud of it. I agreed that her personality traits could be a great asset – as long as she directed them toward the right things. Loyalty is a noble trait, stubbornness is a character flaw.

She told me about Mama. My father never talked about her, and I learned early not to ask, so hearing Connie's stories were a delight I couldn't get enough of. She kept mentioning how much I reminded her of mama. That made me proud and sad at the same time, because I desperately wish I could have known her, but felt so privileged to hear that I had so much of her in me.

As siblings, and eventually I guess for all intents and purposes as sisters, we got along famously. Each goading the other to be better people than we would have been on our own. I really overstayed my welcome, but Connie didn't seem to mind. I picked up some odd jobs here and there, doing catering and house cleaning, so I wasn't a complete parasite. Still, I knew I had to get out and make a life of my own. And give her back her own.

Luc had been back at school for a couple months now, and even though we lived within 50 miles of each other, we hadn't met face to face since his return. We did wear out our phones with mushy calls and racy txts, we even had a few facetime and skype calls, which proved tricky.

The reason I avoided seeing Luc was because Connie's 'bring back the boy' obsession had made me really unpresentable. Even she conceded I never really made a convincing boy, but the short hair and boy clothes made me look like one of those Drag Kings from the club we visited in SF.

When Connie finally relented and let me live as Ali again, I still had a lot of hair to grow back. I got it to a Miley Cyrus pixie quickly enough, but this wasn't a look I wanted to share with Luc.

I saved up and bought a wig that was a close enough color and length that it looked like my own hair – if I hadn't washed or styled it for weeks. I figured it would be good enough for facetime or skype calls, as long as I kept the lighting behind me and found a bad enough net connection that the picture quality was always poor.

This worked well enough that Luc never noticed – or was too polite to say anything. He was busy with school and editing his summer project, and I was busy picking up whatever piecemeal work I could find and looking for a real job, so it was kind of a relief that we weren't officially 'an item'. Much as we missed each other, neither of us had time for socializing.

I suggested that we use this time to play the field, meet other people and see what else was out there. Summer was a whirlwind and we both fell hard. I suggested we take time off to try out other people, and if after exploring other options, the chemistry was still overwhelming, we could get back together and be even stronger, having removed any nagging 'what-if's from our mind.

Luc agreed a bit too readily, though I got the strong impression that he also wanted to use this 'hiatus' not as an excuse to see other people, but to get out of socializing and focus on other things. As it turned out, neither of us ever really tested the other fish in the sea option. We both knew we had found the one, and were just happy for the time off.

I needed to turn my attention to getting documented and finding a fulltime job. Constructing my new life out of whole cloth.

The papers Temperance managed to get for me helped my job search immeasurably. As an undocumented worker, I was always getting sub minimum wage jobs working for people willing to look the other way to save a few bucks. It was better than panhandling, but not much. I was grateful for whatever work I could get "under the table", but it was very hard and could get very discouraging. I was fortunate, knowing that the wheels were turning, and eventually I would have proper documentation. Months can feel like years, and without Connie's love and encouragement, despair may have beaten me. I tried to imagine the other folks I often worked with, who had no 'Golden Ticket' in their future.My heart ached and I prayed for them often. I smiled at the thought that 'patience' and 'perseverance' had become my new best friends.

It took much longer than I expected, but Temperance came through, and by the following summer, I was 'in the system' as Ali, and as requested with a birthday a couple years earlier than Levi. It wasn't as important as I once thought, since I was now old enough to get a drivers license even with my actual date of birth, but I was looking forward to reaching eighteen a few years ahead of schedule and no longer being an 'emancipated minor'.

With my 'documents' and upon my official eighteenth birthday I was able to quickly get a job at a temp agency which let me network with all sorts of various people and eventually led to a fulltime position at a Swiss Biotech subsidiary that had just set up a branch near the Champaign Urbana campus. My French was definitely an asset dealing with our home office and Canadian subsidiary, and I immersed myself in German language study in my spare time, knowing it could only help. Before too long my passably adequate and quickly improving German enabled me to handle more communications with other branches. In addition to reception and phones, I found myself being pressed into service when managers needed someone to bridge the language barrier between offices. I made it clear that I lacked the skills of a formal translator but I could facilitate idea exchange, if not provide officially sanctioned translation.

Most of my language work came after hours, when coworkers who were not as comfortable with their language skills would have me go over work to make sure there were no glaring errors before they sent it along to other divisions. I probably ended up seeing stuff I shouldn't have... in-progress research and lots of proprietary work that would be buried in patents and deliberate obfuscation to prevent reverse engineering once it got to market. But I was seeing the raw research in all its elegant purity. I'm sure the researchers never suspected that this simple secretary had any idea what they were up to, but you don't have to graduate Julliard to appreciate Bach, and over time I think I began to get the knack of what they were up to and it was staggering. These 5 guys in particular were junior researchers in various departments and submitting bold proposals to management for outrageously ambitious stuff. These two guys were trying to bioengineer a virus that ignored normal cells but targeted cancer cells causing them to self destruct. These other guys were working on reprogramming DNA by inducing mutations in specific protein pairs, it became clear quickly that they were talking about switching off the 'counter' that told a DNA strand how many times it had replicated and gave it a finite span. Of course all these radical ideas kept getting shot down by senior management. One day I suggested to Dr Chayapurna that he should call it something like the “Methusela Gene” to sell it to unimaginative managers who clearly couldn't grasp what he was hinting at. He seemed quite surprised by my suggestion. He had always been courteous but rather distant, just dropping off the work and thanking me for my discretion helping him author his proposals in respectable French or German. But when I made my suggestion, I sensed that for the first time, I attracted his conscious attention.

“Exactly how much of what you read do you understand?”

“Well, I'm no scientist, but it seems clear that you are talking about reprogramming a genome like flashing an eprom in a cellphone. Am I mistaken?”

“No. On the contrary, your eprom analogy is excellent. We've struggled with trying to explain what we are endeavoring to do over hundreds of pages and complex equations, but you just summed it up succinctly in a single sentence. Seriously, you don't mind if we use this analogy, miss....”

“Crowe. Alison Crowe. I would be flattered Dr Chayapurna.”

“Kal. Please. My friends and colleagues call me Kal. And I'd like to think that you just became both.”

“Well, thank you Dr.... Kal. Do you think now that senior management will pay more attention to your proposals?”

“They'd be fools not to. …..but then again, they have a long history of foolish decisions. If it doesn't have an immediate impact on the quarterly earnings statement, they don't want to hear about it. They consider anything more than 90 days from profitability to be charity work and they keep suggesting that we go back to academia if we want to rejoin the non-profit sector.”

“Well, how close is it?”

“Frankly, I don't know. We have figured out what pairs to manipulate and how to change the protein strings, but the problem is it's non discriminatory, if it encounters a cell that has already been flipped, it will simply flip it back, negating the original effect. It could take us years to find an effective solution to this problem.”

“What if I told you that I think someone else already has?” His eyes went wide.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Only that you are not the only lab team using me to translate their reports, and yours is not the only research I read. I can't say any more, and I'm sure you will respect that, after all I have never talked with others about your research and never would.” He nodded.

“Then how do you suggest we proceed? This mystery party knows nothing of my research and I know nothing of theirs. Yet you are familiar with both and desire to play ….matchmaker.... if that's not a disrespectful term.”

I beamed. “Actually, it's an ideal word. Now it's your turn to cut right to the kernel of things. What if I try to set up a 'play date'? ….after hours socializing with colleagues from a different division of the same corporate parent. You can size each other up, sniff each others asses, whatever you scientists do, and if you think you have something, see if the sum of your relationship exceeds the total of its parts.”

“Ha ha my girl, I like the way you put it. If you're half as persuasive with them as you were with me, and you are as intuitive about the research as I'm beginning to believe you are, this could be the start of something very big. I'll persuade my colleague Dr Ortega, and you approach this other party. I look forward to hearing from you and being able to arrange our ...heh heh... “play date” as you say. Something tells me this is an auspicious turn of events.”

“I share your excitement Dr... sorry... Kal. I have a really good feeling about this.”

“As do I my dear.” he smiled and gathered his translated research. As he was leaving, he turned to me from the door and said. “Tell me my dear, ...do you believe in serendipity?”

I giggled and beamed at him “Why, I've already told others, that's what I plan to name my firstborn!”

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of intrigue and skullduggery. The meeting with Dr Suhkarnov's team went well and it was quickly unanimous that they were like two strands of a helix, each destined for the other. Both acknowledged my contribution as catalyst and it soon became acutely embarrassing. Here were these world class scientists conceiving the unimaginable and paying tribute to this alleged high school graduate who recognized in both the match to the other. When I knew in truth that I barely completed what by outside standards would be considered grade 6. On the farm, you don't have much need for calculus, quantum physics or nanobiology. I was just naturally curious and would always hide from my tormentors in the last place they would ever think of going: the public library. I took pleasure in the most arcane things, I found beauty in abstract math and avant garde music, it all seemed to me like different dimensions of the same thing... the inherently beautiful fabric of reality as perceived through our extremely limited senses. I always saw patterns in things.... variations on variations, notes and harmonies inextricably linked. I didn't know much by the standards of the educational system, but I recognized truth when I encountered it, and that's why I had to bring these 5 diverse researchers together. It's also how I realized without a doubt, that Alison was who I was destined to be.

God works in mysterious ways. And if 'cosmic matchmaker' was to be my role, I would welcome it and commit to it 100%.

I was deeply flattered to be included in the conversation once the 'gang of five' believed they were meant to be a team and complimented each other perfectly. I tried to contribute, and always felt listened to and respected. So I was a bit surprised that I was credited with the most seditious idea agreed to by the group.

“Allison has an excellent point.” Dr Koetsu said. “None of this research is our primary department task. It was all detours suggested by anomalies in our proscribed duties. I posit that none of this research was directed by or approved from the company.” The others nodded. “We've been digressing from our mundane duties and chasing white rabbits into uncharted – and unsanctioned - territory.” More nods and some guilty looks. “So none of what we're discussing here falls under the non-disclosure or non-compete provisions of our employment contracts.

“Are you suggesting what I think?....” Dr Sukharnov said. Koetsu nodded. Glancing from one to the other.

“This will take a lot of capital” Dr Loessing mused.

“This could be as big as Crick & Watson... Pasteur... Lister.... Koeller”

“Koeller?” I asked blankly

“Just wait” he winked. “What I'm saying is, who wouldn't want a piece of this?”

“If we can get them to see it. It's pretty arcane stuff.” Said Dr Ortega.

“That's why we have our muse of accessibility” smiled Dr Chayapurna. “Have you ever seen anyone with her ability to distill esoteric concepts into executive summaries a 5th grader could grasp?”

Everyone nodded and looked at me. I turned crimson.

“How is everyone set? Can you wait out the 180 day quarantine period and be ready to start the incubator in April?” Sukharnov inquired,

“April first would be an ideal day to go public with our mission statement, Everyone will think it's yet another outrageous prank and we should be able to hide in plain sight until we have a viable product.” smiled Koetsu. Everyone else beamed like cheshire cats. The plan was set and the sedition begun. I was quite ambivalent at being perceived as the instigator of this plan. I just wanted to gather people who I thought would compliment each other wonderfully. I did not intend to instigate a brain-drain at my current employer, and spawn a revolutionary new start up. Not that my current employer would consider their loss a brain-drain. In the eyes of management they were mid-level research drones. From the correspondence I helped translate, it was clear no one valued the amazing individuals they had working for them in dead end jobs. I was happy for them, and was sure they were destined for greatness, but I confessed deep ambivalence at driving them away, and choked up a little when I told them how much I would miss them all.

“Miss us? Why would you miss us? You're coming with us!” Dr Chaya....Kal said.

“I'm sorry. I can't afford to take a half a year off. I have bills to pay and a landlord to feed.”

“Do you seriously think we would let you take a half a year off? Do you realize how much work there is to do? Scouting research facilities, negotiating leases, acquiring utilities services, ordering lab equipment....”

“Not to mention translating our prospectus into French and German and.... do you have any others?”

“Not yet.” I smiled. And the room erupted in laughter.

“No, my dear. We will not let you get away. Without you we'd still be toiling away after hours and jousting at corporate windmills. You are as responsible as anyone for what we will accomplish. You are the catalyst. If not for you none of this would have happened. Which is why I propose we name our startup “A+5 research” We are Alison's gang of 5, and she is the trunk from which all our research will cross pollinate and blossom.

Glasses were raised, the proposal was agreed upon unanimously. A toast was made and I searched for a new shade of crimson.

6 months pass extremely quickly when you're overwhelmed with intricate detail work. Fortunately, I've always been a quick study. Not having a life helped too. Since I got my fulltime job and moved into my own place, I'd see Connie about once a month, and catch up on her life. When the conversation turned to me, I was dismissive, saying something to the effect that I was too busy doing to talk about what I was doing, but promising her that when I eventually came up for air, she'd get the whole story. All I would say was that it was outrageous and unimaginable, and she would always smile and respond, “I expect nothing less from you.”

A5 Research got off the ground with surprisingly few bumps, considering none of the researchers had ever been part of a start-up before, and I had never really been part of anything before. It was my great fortune that I found an endless supply of mentors, and I was a good listener. I was also not a bad judge, While I found some inspiring role models, I found at least as many cautionary tales, and learned a lot more from the people who gave me sincere, but awful, advice. I seemed to have an ability to learn from their mistakes, even when the lessons seem to have eluded them completely.

So, after a minor courtroom drama when our former employer noticed a number of disparate researchers left at the same time and later surfaced as principals of a startup, prompting a non-compete lawsuit that was quickly dismissed when preliminary patent filings and investor prospectus showed no correlation to the mundane work each had done for the corporation, we were off and running, Trying to brainstorm where to start with this intriguing list of related projects. It was decided that the biggest splash would come in the 'cancer killer' virus. The first action the principals took was sequencing and patenting their personal genomes. While publishing their copyrighted genomes was principally a marketing stunt, they actually did plan to use the data in lab research. They also saw it as their version of the original Apple Macintosh team having their signatures molded into the inside of the cases of their creation. It was a gesture. A statement of pride of creation of the marvels they planned to bestow upon humanity. It could be called hubris, but it seemed to those of us close to it, as an affirmation of confidence in what we were about to undertake. The 5 researchers published their copyrighted genomes , and strongly encouraged me to do the same. When I balked, they took it as misguided modesty. I knew otherwise. I did not want my XY chromosome publicly displayed to the world.

Dr Ivan Sukharnov – Vanya, and I had become quite close during the formation of the labs. I considered myself privileged to be a valued associate of all five principals despite my profound lack of formal education and any degrees or certifications. But Vanya was special. We became like extended family. His own family was in Georgia. The republic, not the state. And except for Connie, I had no one in this world. He became like an older brother or younger uncle to me, and I don't know what I was to him, but I never got the impression that I was any kind of crush or romantic interest. If we joked or flirted it was an innocent playfulness and was completely devoid of any sexual overtones. Well, none that I could sense, and I consider myself pretty good at detecting those sorts of things. In fact Vanya was the only one I never got that vibe from, that in an idle moment they had a passing sexual thought about me. But then again, I sensed that a lot of guys got passing notions of a sexual nature about most people – and many inanimate objects – in the course of their average day. I wondered if Vanya might be gay, but I never got the sense that he was attracted to guys either. He was just an enigma with no apparent libido or the most amazing powers of sexual repression I'd ever met. So when Vanya came to me as a friend to try to persuade me to get sequenced and publish, I was more forthcoming than usual.

“What is it that you are afraid to find out?” He prodded.

“Nothing”. His bullshit detector was the best. He knew I wasn't lying, I wasn't afraid of finding out anything. Unfortunately, he also was equally skilled at parsing what I did not say.

“OK. So what are you afraid of others finding out.?” My blush was his jackpot detector. Still I was not going to volunteer anything. He was going to have to work for this. I was counting on wearing him down before he got to the truth.

“What can your genome tell us that will surprise us? It is just a blueprint of the house. It is not the essence of the home. No one knows that better than we five. Do you think your genome will show the world your insight? Your ability to take seemingly unrelated random elements and combine them into a braintrust that can change the world? Will it show us the purity of your heart? Your ability to draw out the best in people and to diffuse the worst before they can sabotage their own potential? DNA is the sheet music. It is not the symphony. The skill of the musician, the craftsmanship of the instrument, the vision and inspiration of the conductor or the appreciation of the audience.” He ragarded me for an uncomfortably long time, kneaded his chin, and resumed. “Tell you what. Let me run your sequence. Just between us. No publish. Only you see ….and I see – because I must run sequencer. I promise you I will not be surprised by anything. I mean it. Anything. We make bet. OK? If I am surprised, we destroy results and never speak of this again, OK?”

“And what's in this for you?” I was curious why he was so determined to run my sequence.

“Well, up to now we do everything unanimously. All six of us. Always all in. A+5. This is first rift. And over something as silly as a genome. It is like open source code. There is always sloppiness and ugly bits, but those are everywhere. No code is above that. No genome is above anomalies. The random abnormality is as normal as it gets. So you do this. We see results. You publish, and we are 6 together again. ….And if genome indicates you are not actually human but alien species sent here to jumpstart human evolution by convincing us to start this company, Dr Koetsu owes me lunch.”

I laughed. Vanya always did have a knack for engaging in the most bleak topics of conversation and somehow injecting levity into them.

“OK. OK. Enough” I laughed. “I'll do it. Just between us. Get me a swab before I change my mind. ...and if you blow my cover earthman, you're spacedust.”

Apparently he had expected to win me over, because without moving, he produced a swabkit and took my sample.

The next few days were tense. I was torn over my decision and what would become of it. But if anyone had to learn my secret, I can't imagine any group more understanding of the open ended nature of the universe than my five esteemed friends and colleagues.

Sukharnov rang me up three days later.

“When can we talk?”

“And a pleasant good day to you too Dr Sukharnov. How is your day?”

“So far.... unexpected.”

“Surprising?”

“Ahhhh...” I could hear his rueful smile in his tone of voice. “I gave you my word I would not be surprised. I am a man of my word.”

“I see. So you are not surprised?”

“Well.... I am not bored... let us say I am ….intrigued.”

“Intrigued?”

“Please. We need to talk. When are you free?”

“How much time do you need?”

“I would like at least an hour.”

“I don't have a whole hour free. I can do 15 minutes. Maybe a half hour.”

“No. I need at least the full hour. What are you doing after work?”

“No plans. But I don't know how late I'll be working.”

“No matter. I will wait.”

“You make this sound so dire.” Maybe it wasn't the Y chromosome. Maybe I had some horrible disease.

“Not dire. But important. Very important. May change the future of the company. Please. See me immediately after work.”

“Oh crap. You found my alien DNA. They said it would be invisible to sequencing” I kidded. He didn't laugh. I couldn't concentrate for the remainder of the day.

I wrapped up as early as I could and called Sukharnov to say I was on my way over. Part of me dreaded going, yet part of me just wanted it to be over.

When I arrived at his lab, he sat me down on a lab stool and offered me tea.

“So, I take it you already know. Which is why you resisted the sequencing.”

“Know what?” I wanted to be absolutely clear we were talking about the same thing before I accidentally gave something away.

“About your extra chromosome”

“Extra chromosome?”

“Yes. You are XXY. It seems you have bit of boy in your DNA.”

“Honestly. I didn't know about an extra chromosome. That explains so much.”

“You did not know? So why were you so reticent to be mapped?”

“I did not know I had an extra chromosome....” I was struggling with where to go with this. How much to reveal and how to doubletalk my way around the issue as I always did. Vanya was too perceptive. I would not be able to wiggle out of this. I needed to lay all my cards on the table.

“I honestly did not know I had an extra chromosome. I thought I was simply XY.”

“XY? XY is boy.” I nodded and hung my head. He laughed. “XY? You thought you were boy?”

My pained expression stifled his mirth. He reached over and lifted my chin till I was looking him in the eye. “What on earth made you think you were boy?”

“Everything. Everyone. I lived as a boy until I was 14.”

“I can not imagine that, and I have pretty good imagination. And how did you come to live as girl?”

“That's a long story that makes more sense if alcohol is involved in the telling. But once I started living as a girl, there was no going back.” I was tearing up. So ashamed that I had deceived everyone who trusted me.

“Of course there was no going back. I am not surprised that you live as girl. I am shocked that you lived for 14 years as boy. I simply can not see it. I promised you I would not be shocked. You win. I am shocked to learn you lived as boy for 14 years. And you actually thought you WERE boy?”

I nodded tearfully and forced a weak smile. “If it's any consolation, I was a terrible boy.”

“THIS is not surprise. I can't believe you were fooled for 14 years.”

“How was I to know? I knew nothing about DNA or chromosomes growing up.”

“Well, you know now. So we get to the point of our talk. What to do about it.”

“What is there to do about it?”

“Lose the Y of course. And tidy up the boy bits.”

“Boy bits? You mean like surgery?”

“I meant cleaning up genome. You mean there are boy bits big enough for surgery?”

“Why do you think I thought I was a boy for 14 years?”

“And these bits ….work?”

“Work? How? Plumbing? Of course.”

“No. I mean sex.”

“How would I know if they work for sex?”

“That you even have to ask is my answer.. OK. What's say we get full body scan and see what boy bits and girl bits your dueling chromosomes gave you.” We spent most of the evening in the lab, with Vanya testing me like a lab animal. EEG revealed a reasonably normal female brain, with atypicalities unrelated to gender that he thought explained a lot about my peculiar 'talents' at seeing complex synergies and interactions and being able to explain arcane concepts in simple metaphors. The physical scan was a bit ….unexpected. I seemed to have nascent female reproductive apparatus, but it was dormant, as was the rudimentary and undeveloped male bits. Vanya speculated that my endocrine system, was getting conflicting messages and had essentially forestalled any kind of puberty, since my body was capable of instigating either male or female puberty but had no inherent bias either way, and so failed to start either.

“Actually, it looks like you're capable of going either way. I did not think such a thing was possible, but thanks to the work we're doing in the lab, we can eliminate the conflicting chromosome, and break the stalemate, so you get to choose.”

“Choose?”

“Yes. Your decision. We wipe one chromosome from your genome and your body begins down the remaining path.”

“What about the ...residual bits?”

“I think Dr Loessing's cancer bomb can help. We can alter the tech to target undesired reproductive organs. Your own immune system will rid you of the wrong bits. So what do you think? Boy or girl?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Of course I must ask. It is your decision. Would you like some time to think it over?”

“No. There is no doubt in my mind. I wasted the first 14 years of my life as a sorry excuse for a boy. I'll be relieved to be rid of any reminder of those years.”

Sukharnov smiled. “I had a feeling you would say something like that so I prepared some strains of immunoinstigator.” he flourished his hands like a magician and produced a syringe and 3 vials.

“And if I had chosen 'boy'?”

“All right, I made that up too. But I would have to go to Dr Loessing's lab to get it.”

I held out my arm and let him jab me. The serum burned a little going in, and I felt as if I could feel it coursing through my veins. I had just rolled the snowball off the pinnacle and now there was nothing to do but wait.

“So, what should I expect?”

“I have no idea. This has never been done before. You are subject zero”

Of course I was. I should have realized that. This serum was just a computer model this morning. We had the capability to design a gene, hormone or enzyme in the computer and create it in the lab that afternoon. I was now about to become proof of concept of everything this company was built on.

It wasn't until the next Tuesday that the manure hit the fan. It was our weekly 'all hands' meeting where the entire company ….all 12 of us, got together and talked about what we were working on and how our individual processes might be useful to each other. Dr Loessing mentioned loaning out his lab gear to Dr Sukharnov for some 'black project' which raised a few eyebrows. Suddenly the meeting got derailed and it became all about Sukharnov's secret project. Vanya was cool and in command, he must have been anticipating something like this. He calmly stated that he was working on a blue sky project that was far too preliminary to discuss with the others. When questioned on his vague statement, he did imply that his “secret project” involved jumping over the standard virtual simulation and going straight to real world experimentation. That got everyone wound up. His 'blatant disregard for established protocol' turned the rest of the room into a bunch of angry villagers with pitchforks and torches. I wanted to deflect the animus, especially since I was secretly the cause.

“Can everyone please just calm down?” I never shouted, so that got everyone's attention.

“We've been working together for nearly a year now. We know each other far better than mere colleagues. Does anyone in this room think Dr Sukharnov would engage in reckless activity? Or that he would be so secretive without a good reason?”

“That's what has us so agitated!” Dr Chayapurna said. “Why can't you tell us?”

“Ah, there's the paradox.” Sukharnov smiled. “If I explain my reason for secrecy, I give you the key to my secret.”

I interjected. “May I propose that we close this meeting to principals only before this discussion goes any further?” The lab assistants looked really hurt when I suggested that they be asked to leave the room. I put on my best 'concerned mom' face and spoke directly to them. “I suggest this not to exclude you, but to protect you. Whatever happens next, you will be no part of. You will not be deposed and you can not face any prosecution.” This alarmed the entire room. Which was my intent. The assistants quickly left the room, leaving my 5 colleagues anxiously staring at me. I was aware that the 6 assistants were just on the other side of the glass, regarding us like specimens in an incubator. I didn't worry about anyone reading lips, but I was very conscious of sending misleading signals through my body language.

“Sorry to alarm you, but it was the quickest way to get the others out of the room” I wanted to smile reassuringly, but with the eyes outside the room on me, I instead furrowed my brow in concern. “Listen to my words, They are for you. My body language is for everyone outside the room still staring at us. Everyone turned around to stare at the assistants who suddenly got very self conscious and started shuffling nervously. When all heads turned back to me, I saw the smiles appear at the same time the group outside the glass resumed staring at me.

“Remind me to never invite you over for poker.” Dr Koetsu grinned.

I Furrowed my brow, crossed my arms and scowled at him. “I think that's a wise decision my friend.”

“Since we're speaking of poker, I think it's time to put all our cards on the table Vanya.”

“Are you certain you want to do this?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No. I'm not. So lets do it before I change my mind. Dr Sukharnov's secrecy was at the request of his co-conspirator on this endeavor.”

“And who would that be?” Dr Loessing glared at me.

Sukharnov started to rise.

“Vanya. Sit. Please keep your back to the glass. We don't want to double the chance that our audience will catch on.” I looked at him apologetically, and he nodded in agreement.

Looking straight ahead at me and not at Dr Loessing, Sukharnov said “Chet, let's just refer to my collaborator as 'Subject Zero'”

The room erupted. Any cool poker faces evaporated instantly. The 4 scientists crowded around Sukharnov's chair.

“You're experimenting on a live subject?” Chayapurna shouted.

“For the love of God, please at least tell me the subject is not human!” Dr Koetsu had grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Despite the side bet about my Alien DNA, my genome is completely human.” I said nearly under my breath. That stopped the room.

“YOU'RE subject zero?”

“When did you relent to sequencing?”

“Last week. Vanya can be very persuasive.”

“And for God's sake what did you find that prompted Sukharnov to begin a live experiment? Is that why you resisted?”

“There are WAY too many parts to that question. OK. I had a suspicion about what my genome would reveal. The actual results were unexpected, but supplied an alternate reason for my suspicion. Vanya thought that my intriguing anomaly would be an ideal first test for his active resequencing technique, so he used Dr Loessings lab to design and synthesize the virus to mutate the target and an immunoinstigator to clean up any residue from the issue.”

“A mutavirus AND an immunoinstigator? On a LIVE subject? We've never even tested this on a living organism! We're still running simulations. And you just whip up a batch and test it? On one of our CO-FOUNDERS???” Dr Loessing was so agitated I worried he might have an aneurism.

“We can dick around with computer simulations until our funding runs out and still never run enough what-ifs to know anything. I have faith in my technique.” Sukharnov replied with a chilling calm.

“As do I.” I added. The faces turned to me were confused and dismayed.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?”

“I like to believe I do.”

“You can't know what this will do to you!”

“I have a reasonably good idea.”

“But you can't KNOW! Infinite things could go wrong.”

“I trust the odds. Dr Sukharnov is a diligent man. I believe I take a much bigger health risk grabbing lunch at that food truck down the block. It has been a week, and I have yet to encounter anything unexpected.”

“May we ask what exactly is the nature of the mutation?”

“I guess you could consider it a de-mutation. An abberent chromosome set being reset to a more standard value and ancillary artifacts being cleaned up by triggering my own immune system.”

“Ancillary artifacts? Like what? Are you talking about something like a prehensile tail or something?”

“Something like that” I smiled. “Only far less cute and waggy. And not necessarily external”

“You mean like a third kidney?”

“Let's just spare the embarrassing details and say superfluous biology.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired. Like I'm coming down with a cold that never develops. Nothing bad to speak of.”

“Well, it's done. I guess we'll have to live with it.”

“No. I will have to live with it.” I smiled. “And I'm looking forward to it. No regrets.” I walked over and squeezed Vanya's hand.

“Do you know how much trouble we could get into if word of this leaks out to the FDA or NIH?”

“I don't plan to tell anyone. Do any of you? I'll be Dr Sukharnov's lab rabbit, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be a research subject for a bunch of government regulators.” I took a moment and made eye contact with everyone in the room. “One last item. I think we should plan a surprise party with large bonuses for the lab assistants.”

“Where did THAT come from?”

“They're still staring at us through the glass. The quicker they think we tricked them into leaving the room so we could discuss the size of their bonuses and a surprise party, the quicker they stop speculating on what we were really discussing.”

At long last, all 6 of us found something we could agree on. It was like old times.

The genome patch was so gradual I have no idea when the process actually completed. As for the 'vanishing boy bits' it was a curious phenomenon. The already unimpressive organs just shriveled and shrunk, seeming to withdraw back inside me. At some point I became aware of a ….reconfiguration... that gradually came to resemble a labia bordering a seemingly actual vagina. I felt a little self conscious exploring the area. I think because the sensations were so strong, I got the guilty feeling that I was playing with myself, which seemed vaguely sinful, so I resisted. Vanya was nowhere near as shy.

“OK. From what you say, I think everything is complete. It has been 90 days and you seem completely rid of any remnant of boy. Still no puberty though. I think maybe we need to give things a little push.” And he jabbed me with a syringe of 'kickstarter' he explained should reboot my endocrine system and get the process of puberty started. He then scheduled an appointment with an old medschool colleague of his. An OB/GYN.

Dr Walken remembered Vanya fondly and we shared stories of his antics. She seemed delighted to learn he had lost none of his mischievous spark during the years since medschool. I mentioned that I was new in town and observed that our company healthplan neglected OB/GYN coverage, not surprisingly since I was the only female on staff and it hadn't occurred to any of the boys. I told her Vanya recommended I contact her since I had come to trust his judgement and he assured me she is the best. At this Dr Walken rolled her eyes and replied. “I'll bet he doesn't KNOW any other gynecologists. He's always hanging out with researchers and theoreticians. He had little use for the messiness of the flesh.”

She asked me how long it had been since my last period. I confessed I had yet to have one. She was quite surprised, so I shared that Dr Sukharnov was using me as a research subject since I had an arrested puberty and he was experimenting with jumpstarting the endocrine system to invoke puberty. I confessed that that was why he suggested I see his old colleague, I didn't mention anything about the boybits or the growing the right parts procedure. After an excruciatingly thorough exam, Dr Walken pronounced me seemingly fit and fertile. She wanted me to schedule a followup after my first period and expressed confidence that Dr Sukharnov's work had triggered a latent puberty. She said on the next visit we would discuss birth control options. Oh my, something else I never imagined I'd be considering.

Once my coworkers realized I wasn't going to die grotesquely, and even before the final results on my procedure were in, they decided that Dr Sukharnov's gamble had paid off and the technology was safe and viable. It was decided the first product would be a greatly dumbed-down version of the methuseleh gene designed to treat (cure actually) progeria. We never used the word cure, only treat, since the investors liked the open ended model of treatment over the one time profit of a cure. As it turned out, all our products treated their target conditions so well, that no further treatments were ever required. But we officially didn't sell “cures”.

We started modestly. Outrageously modestly actually. We targeted the most devastating, intractable conditions, the ones that always made the posters for charity fundraisers. The diseases of children, the diseases that were the cruellest on their victims. In other words the diseases where there would be little resistance to radical approaches and the most publicity for 'miracle cures'. We attacked diseases of the underdeveloped world like dengue fever and ebola. Not for the money, for there was none, but not entirely out of altruism. These projects relieved suffering on a massive scale, but they also provided massive data points on the safety and efficacy of our approach, which made it far easier to gain approval with health bureaucracies in more 'developed' nations. That was our approach. Get a wedge into the easy part and pry it all open. Want to cure aging? Start with progeria. Want to regrow entire limbs and repair spinal cord and nervous system damage? Start by marketing a product to regrow hair. Each of these modest products was extensible. We were thinking big, but we had to start the world small.

It didn't feel small, we quickly became the hottest biotech incubator in the field. Reporters for mainstream magazines poured over our patent filings trying to parse what new medical miracles we were cooking up. We became embroiled in high finance and corporate intrigue as struggling competitors tried to tangle us in frivolous lawsuits and steal our staff and secrets. It was becoming big business and it was no longer much fun. My 5 colleagues had gone from researchers to division vice presidents and they seemed as miserable as I was. My 11:30 meeting was the catalyst for change.

Martin Sachs had that kind of vintage Robert Redford vibe of casual gravitas. He knew his stuff and didn't feel the neurotic compulsion to flaunt it. He seemed equal part tweedy academic, silicon valley hipster entrepreneur and sightly disheveled ACLU attorney. I wasn't sure what he wanted to discuss, but I was advised by my colleagues that if he wanted a meeting, I wanted to take it.

“Welcome to our no longer so humble facility” I greeted him as he was ushered in. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water, please.”

I walked over to the wetbar, a surprisingly useful fixture of a decadent executive office and drew him a glass of ice water,

“You know most executives would have a minion do that.” He observed.

“My minions are busy doing more important things. Like plotting our world domination.” I smiled.

He held the glass up to the light. “And most people would hand me a sealed bottle of water.”

“I hate plastic containers, especially for something like water. They're a blight on the planet, they leech petrochemicals into the water, and the source of the water itself is often difficult to ascertain. I can personally attest to the quality of the liquid and the safety of that glass. But if you'd like, I can pry a minion away from her schemes to run to the quickee mart and buy you a bottle of waterlike substance.”

He smiled. “I've met my fair share of corporate executives. In my experience. you are unique.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Good. Do you know why I'm here?”

“I'm counting on you to tell me. I only know that you're highly respected by people I highly respect.”

“Well, I will take THAT as a complement. Look, it's nearly noon. Can I treat you to lunch?”

“Actually my schedule's pretty packed, I really can't...”

He looked me straight in the eye and made a very serious face. “Clear it.”

I didn't hesitate. I buzzed my PA. “Tony. Reschedule the rest of today's appointments. Send my apologies. I'll sort it out with you when I return.” And with that we were off.

Dharma Diner was a vegan place in the artist district. Marty fit in somewhat, looking like a slumming professor, but I stuck out like a dowager at a rave. No one seemed to care.

“You know everyone is talking about your little rogue startup.” He said.

“I know. Why are we eating here?”

“Because this is the least likely place I could think of for anyone to have planted a surveillance device or spy”

“Spy! Are you joking?”

“There are some things you don't joke about. Look, I have no proof, but I know what I'd do if I were them.”

“Who is 'them'?”

“People who have finally realized just how disruptive your tech is. Corporations who stand to lose billions if you cure the diseases they lucratively treat, vested interests who use human suffering and inequality as a means of maintaining influence and leverage. Nations and agencies who have realized the ability to target and manipulate a specific genome is the ultimate perfectly targetable assassination tool, and on a broader scale an unprecedented bioweapon. Your little company is in any number of crosshairs. It's simply a matter of who squeezes the trigger first.”

I swallowed hard. This was extreme paranoia. But we were doing extreme things at A5. I knew we were every bit as disruptive as he said we were. I think Sachs glimpsed the true potential for our disruption. I was well aware of it.

“What you say seems outrageous, but I've become quite familiar with the outrageous at A5” I smiled. “If what you say is true, what do we do about it?”

“That's the tricky part. You have to be wilier than they are. They will try to steal your company and plunder the tech, either to bury the threat or to weaponize it. I'd like to offer to buy you out.”

“Pardon?”

“I represent a group of people who see the big picture. They know how the game is played, and that the revolution in biotech that A5 represents must remain viable if humanity is to lift itself out of its misery. Technically it's a non profit holding company, but what it really is is a conservator of tech too valuable to fall into irresponsible hands. I'm proposing that you donate 30% of your stock – for a sizable tax write off, and sell the other 70% to this list of industrialists, each of whom will then donate their portion of shares to the trust. The tax deduction should negate the capital gains from the sales. You will be a very, very rich woman. And you will be free of the soon to be drastically increasing burden of this corporate albatross. Assured in the knowledge that you've entrusted it to enlightened and responsible stewardship.

“I will have to discuss this with my colleagues.”

“By all means. It was they who suggested I approach you. I thought they would be the prime candidates, but they all recommended you. Especially since you own 51% of the company.”

“51%. That can't be possible. We were equal partners.”

“They diluted their shares at the IPO. But they insisted your stake be protected because they knew you would protect their creation... their... your... baby.”

“I had no idea.”

“I think that's how they wanted it. Never match wits with a group whose collective IQ tops four digits. They're not just bright, they've proven themselves wise... and that's much harder to quantify.”

“Well, I will have to talk with them, but from what you've already told me, it seems a bit perfunctory.”

“Then get on with the formalities and I'll await your call.” He handed me a card.

“It will be hard after all this time to just walk away and leave it all behind.”

“You may walk away, but you can never leave it all behind. Can you, subject zero?”

I went white. “How?...”

“Didn't your colleagues tell you I was good?”

“They swore...”

“They didn't. No one did. I'm good!”

“If you know, others must...”

“Not likely. They're not that good. Anyway they don't care about the company's history and origins, they only care about what they can plunder, and no offense, but you're not plunderable”

“Good to know.”

“That's why I told you. Now go talk to your colleagues and get back to me. Then think about how you plan to be a rich lady.” He smiled and picked up the check.

I had never planned to be a rich lady, but that didn't turn out to be a problem. In addition to being a good adviser, Marty Sachs became a trusted friend and hooked me up with some people who set up a trust where I could park my 'riches'. All I knew or cared was that I was now free to decide what to do with the next chapter of my life. I did take a few weeks to relax and reflect at a very isolated beachfront resort on a private tropical island. That was the only 'rich lady' thing I've yet done. There were a few bungalows and occasionally I'd catch glimpses of my “neighbors”. It was like living on the front page of a tabloid. Everyone I met was a reclusive celebrity or controversial mogul. I was determined not to gawk, since they were obviously here for the same solitude I sought. So it came as a surprise when, one of the celebutantes approached ME.

“Excuse me,” she said with her obviously mortified recent leading man on her arm. “I really hate to disturb you, I know how much it pisses ME off... but I just had to ask. Ethan says I'm crazy and what are the odds, but I'm convinced it IS you. Am I right?”

“Is it me? Last time I looked. In fact every time I've looked, I've been me. At least for the past few years” I smiled a little Mona Lisa halfsmile.

“See! I told you it was her!”

I looked at the guy.... “Who exactly does she think I am?” He smiled.

“See. I told you.” He nudged her very bony ribcage.

“Of course it's her. They don't let just anybody on this island. Hell, most people don't even know this place exists. How did she get here?”

“Oh, the usual way.” I smiled. “Cab. Plane. Watertaxi.”

“Excuse us miss. We didn't mean to disturb you. Kara just thinks everyone she meets is more famous than she is. I have no doubt that one of these days she's going to defect to the darkside and become the first celebrity paparazzo.” He was charming. And funny. I could see what she saw in him.

“It might help if you let me know exactly WHO you think I am?”

“Her! The girl from the internet.”

“Last time I checked, there were lots of girls on the internet. For all I know, every female on the planet is somewhere on the internet.”

“Don't I know it! No. You're the one from the blog everyone's buzzing about.”

“It would help if you could give me a name”

“You don't have a name! You're a mystery. That's part of the buzz!”

“I certainly DO have a name. Always have. No I meant the name of the blog.”

“Oh. Girl meets world.”

“Luc!” I broke out in a grin. He finally did it.

“Yeah. Luc Brossard. You KNOW him?” Kara asked.

“Of course she knows him stupid. She's his muse!” he snapped.

“His MUSE?” I smirked. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“It is you. Right?” Ethan asked. I nodded.

“That was ages ago. One unforgettable summer. I didn't know he finally published it.”

“Oh yeah. It's HOT. You're hot! The book, the website, the videos. Say... that deodorant ad with the motorcycle... was that really you?”

“They let him use that? I knew he wanted it, but never thought he'd get it.”

“Oh yeah. There was a whole interview with the director....”

“...Jerry....”

“...yeah. Saying you were brought on for stunts and he thought the agency was nuts because the girl they cast for on camera was less hot that the one they hid under the helmet. And how he tried to work with you again, but no one knew how to find you until the blog. Now that Brossard guy says he can't help because he can't find you either. He says he never even knew your name. Is that possible?”

“Oh. He knows my name. ….and he definitely has my number” I smiled. “..always did. I guess it's my fault. I told him I'd help him, but wanted to remain anonymous. I had my reasons at the time. Mainly I didn't want to steal focus from his work.”

“But you ARE the focus of his work.”

“Hm. That was unexpected. So I'm a mystery, eh?”

“You are THE mystery. Everyone's trying to find you. Is that why you're hiding here?”

“No. Surprisingly. I'm here trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“With all the heat on your blog, I'd say anything – and everything you want!” Kara chirped.

“We are being so rude... I'm Ethan. Ethan Dale. And this is Kara. Kara Kendrick.”

“I know. I'm not from another planet. Pleased to meet you.”

“And YOU are?.....”

I smiled and hesitated just long enough to make them wonder if they were finally going to get their answer.

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe.” Hell, if I was a celebrity now, Alexandra sounds much more swank than Alison.

“Alexandra...” Ethan replied. “A real pleasure to meet you Alexandra. Honey, let's get a selfie with our new friend Alexandra Crowe!” Suddenly I was the slice of cheese in a celebrity sandwich, and I knew the rollercoaster of my life had just clanked to the top of another peak.

When I got off the plane back home and turned my mobile back on, I had four messages, all from the same California number. I didn't have to guess too hard who it was.

“Studio Brossard. How may I direct your call?”

“Luc Brossard s'il vous plait” I replied.

“Um. Excusez moi. Q'est ce que... I mean Comment....”

“I speak English ...if that is easier” I said still with a thick French accent.

“Oh yes. Thank you! Um Mr Brossard is not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Yes. I'd like to arrange a private shoot with Monsieur Brossard. Something ...discreet.”

“Mr Brossard is very busy, but I can direct you to one of his talented associates.”

“No. It must be Monsieur Brossard. Or I'll be forced to go elsewhere.” I was beginning to enjoy torturing this poor girl.

“Well, Monsieur Brossard is in great demand and will not be able to take your photograph.”

“Why don't you let Monsieur Brossard decide that, and get back to me.”

“Very well, but I wouldn't plan on it. May I have your name and a callback number?”

“Yes. My name is Alexandra Crowe, and my num..”

“Alexandra CROWE??? No shit!”

“Yes, shit.” Who knew it was so much fun cursing with a preposterous foreign accent? “Most definitely shit. My number is...”

“ONE MOMENT PLEASE!” click. Smile.

“OK, who is this really?”

“Is this really the famous Luc Brossard? Photographer of supermodels, celebrities and nameless waifs?” I kept the ludicrous accent.

“Sylvie! If you put one of your friends up to this I'll.....”

“If you didn't want to talk to me, why did you call me four times?”

“Shit! Allie?”

“Great talking to you too lover. So, I'm a mystery woman?”

“I thought that's how you wanted it? Anyway, you're a mystery no more. But what's with 'Alexandra'?”

“Ah. I was just messing with a couple of kids on the beach. Alexandra sounded more ...exotic.”

“Those weren't just a couple of kids on the beach. That's America's teenage heartthrobs. Hell, not just the states, most of the developed world.”

“That would explain why they were hiding in the underdeveloped world”

“Their celebrity selfie blew up instagram, and since then they've been making the rounds talking about their encounter with the “mystery muse” where you told them I had your number. I haven't gotten a moment's peace.”

“Mon cher, tu eu ma numéro toujours!” I made Luc chortle. I never heard him chortle. I liked it.

“It's so nice to know you still speak French. I swear people come up to me speaking English with a horrible French accent and think they're speaking French.” Now it was my turn to laugh.

“So you've been busy?”

“Crazy busy. First our project finished far better than I had ever dared dream. Then it just blew up online, and you became this celebrity enigma.... which I milked for all it was worth.”

“Bien sur.”

“Then people started coming out of everywhere to get a piece of the action. That deodorant company posted the footage, including raw footage of you putting on the helmet before the stunt, so I had to post an interview about that day and how you ended up there, then the stuntwoman who should have been on the shoot told how she just asked you to report her as sick, and expressed her confusion when she heard you filled in for her, and how when she saw my post and realized you weren't even a stuntwoman how she felt she could have got you killed. It's all gone viral. Then someone starts auctioning off those photos you'd have me print and use as postcards on ebay. And since you signed them all simply “A” and a little heart, you got even more mysterious as people got a letter but no name. Then these kids with their selfie, and suddenly A is Alexandra Crowe. Shit. This is all so crazy. I like to think I'm a good self promoter, but no one could engineer this. So yes. I'm crazy busy. And you could be too if you're interested.”

“Are you too busy for lunch?”

“For you? Never. Where?”

“I was thinking someplace secluded..... someplace very publicly secluded.”

Luc chuckled. “You are as devious as ever cheri.” I missed his chuckle.

L'Espalier was a nice little restaurant run by one of the Sonoma vineyard owners, a convenient little place for those touring wine country to break for a quiet little repast.... and a prominent tourist haunt. The scenery was breathtaking and the outdoor dining was designed so that there wasn't a non-photogenic seat in the house. Everyone who ever had to suffer through their friends' travel photos was sufficiently impressed by the pics from L'Espalier, that they were compelled to visit themselves. It was brilliant marketing, and a perfect spot for a public 'private' getaway. As soon as the first smartphone photos were posted on social media, and the facial recognition algorithms tagged Luc's and my face in the background, the rumour mill would get another hefty infusion of hype. ….And as a bonus, we got to have a long-delayed reunion.

“So you're through with school?”

“I wouldn't say ...through.... but the degree was a means to a career.... turns out the career predated the degree. Bill Gates dropped out of Harvard to form Microsoft, only to get an honorary degree decades later.”

“Oh. So now you're comparing yourself to Bill Gates?” My raised eyebrow was accusatory, but my smile was warmly sardonic.

“I'm just saying.... when your opportunity comes, you seize it. ...Even if it comes ahead of schedule. A college athlete won't turn down an NBA contract to play a couple years of varsity.”

“Ah, Now you're Lebron James? Can you compare yourself to Ghandi next and explain how you are way more humble?”

He laughed. “Why do you bust my balls?”

“Because I CAN” I smiled. “Because to me you will always be that slightly lost young man fighting with his iPhone who couldn't tell the difference between another visitor and museum staff.”

“And it never occurred to you that I knew all along, and it was just a clever ploy to meet the pretty girl dressed alarmingly like a museum worker?”

“You weren't that smooth ….at the time.” He broke out into a wide grin, and his eyes sparkled with delight.

“My God. How I've missed you.” he beamed.

“And I you. ...but clearly, you've been quite busy”

“And you? What have you been up to since we decided to....see others.” I could sense the pain in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt.

“Well. I got my documentation squared away and landed a job with a Swiss conglomerate that ended up becoming a lot more than I initially expected.”

“Of course. You're you. How could it not?”

I didn't know if he was complimenting or teasing... probably both... but I just ignored him.

“And as for the seeing others?” he inquired, somewhat hesitantly.

….well there were a few.... 5 actually... all coworkers....

“Five? It has only been a few years....”

“Not sequentially. I met them all separately, but finally managed to introduce them to each other and they all hit it off. We became inseparable.”

“All together? You and Five men?”

Heh, heh. I had him.

“Yes, It got so serious that we finally decided we had to make it legal.”

“Quoi?”

We all quit our jobs and formed a little startup called A5 research. I was the A, Doctors Chayapurna, Loessing, Sukharnov, Ortega and Koetsu were the five. We patented a few things and went public. I cashed out and went to the island to decompress and bumped into the selfie twins.”

“Wait. Wasn't A5 that company that claimed they have a cure for dengue fever and claim they will revolutionize cancer treatment?”

“They won't just revolutionize it. They'll obsolete it. They have a cure. Parkinsons, MS, Alzheimers...” I leaned over and whispered into his ear “even simple aging... They've done it already. In the lab. They're just pacing things because the potential disruption could be ….profound.”

“How can this be possible?”

“I don't know what to say. They are very, VERY smart and and imaginative people who got tired of being told what they couldn't do.”

“And your involvement in this....?”

“I knew them all from work, but they didn't know each other. I saw incredible potential synergy between their disparate research, so I simply played matchmaker. And they let me come along when they formed their startup.”

“They didn't just bring you along. You were the A. They were all just the 5. They obviously recognized your importance to the startup. It seems to me that you were the catalyst of it all.” He made me blush.

“Well, I was just happy to see these guys have a chance to show the world what they were capable of. And take it from me, I know firsthand. What they are capable of is beyond your imagination.”

“So while I'm off becoming a media darling, you are busy becoming a jillionaire executive?”

I laughed. “Yes. You've uncovered my backup plan for world domination.... in case this whole supermodel thing didn't work out.”

“Well, it appears your B plan was unnecessary. You seem to be quite the hot commodity.”

“I like hearing you say I'm hot...” I purred.

“Tres chaud cheri..”

“That's not me. That's the enigma you created. She's exotic and mysterious and unattainable.”

“And she has your face.”

“Ah, but she was a mirage. She didn't even have a name.”

“She does now.”

“Sorry about that. I had no idea. I never intended to sabotage your illusion.”

“Sabotage? Why it's blown up bigger than I'd imagined possible! You came along at just the right time, in just the right remote location and outed yourself to the one couple who could take your heat factor from smouldering to supernova. I'm sure conspiracy types are already shouting that this is some cynical master publicity scheme.”

I scoffed. “I wish we were that brilliant!”

“Moi aussi. So here we are. Having our quiet lunch, in a public place. Let's see if we have been 'made' yet....” he took out his smartphone and did an image search. “Shit. Your name still only brings up my work and that selfie.”

“What about your name? You've been doing all the publicity for your project, you should be all over the net and far more familiar to the recognition algorithms.”

“Ah yes. I am everywhere. But this is all from interviews and appearances.... gallery shows.... old stuff.”

“Sort by date.”

“Right. Ah. Yes. 4 minutes ago. Here we are behind that Asian couple posing for their Facebook post. I have been tagged. But not you.”

“Then tag me, lover.” I smiled.

“I can't. It's their page. I'm not their friend.”

“So friend them. Explain that you are in the background and would like to share their picture. I'm sure they will accept your friend request. Especially if they Google your name.”

So he did. But the confirmation didn't come. Instead, about 5 minutes later, the elderly couple themselves came up to our table.

“Excuse me. Pardon our interruption, but we received a friend request from someone claiming to be the person in the background in a photo. This has never happened before. Was this actually from you or is it another one of those ….what do you call them.... phishing schemes, where people try to steal identities?”

Luc laughed. “No. No scheme. I sent the request. I'd like to repost the picture, but to do that I must be in your online circle.”

“Ahh. I see.” the gentleman said. His companion was a bit more skeptical.

“How did you even know your picture was on our page?”

“There are bots that can alert you if you are mentioned online.” While true, Luc neglected to mention that this was not how he found the photo.

“Who would use such a tool? Celebrities? VIPS? Who are you to use such a tool?”

“Well, my photo was autotagged with my name. Click on my name and run a search.” Luc smiled.

The woman wrestled with her phone for a few moments while her companion watched over her shoulder. We could tell by their change in expression when the search results started pouring in.

“Apologies. We did not realize you were someone famous.”

“Nor should you.” Luc smiled graciously. “I just noticed that my companion here was not tagged, and I wanted to correct the oversight. But I couldn't do that until I was your friend.”

“Oh. I can tag her right now... what is your name dear?”

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe” Luc said. I spelled it out, since from their accents, English was clearly not their prime language. They seemed grateful for the spelling help.

“There you go honey. You are tagged too.”

“Thank you very much. You are very gracious to let us be in your photo.”

“Truthfully, we did not know. We just wanted to send a photo to our friends back home of this lovely place.”

“Well. Thank you for tagging us.”

“It is a pleasure. Are you famous too, my dear?”

I smiled coyly. “That is for others to decide.”

“Well then, may we have another photo with you two? With the four of us?”

“Here, we call them 'selfies'” I smiled as I grabbed the phone and held it at arms length while the four of us huddled together. The elderly couple grinning broadly, Luc looking slightly annoyed, and me smiling as enigmatically as I could muster.

“You played that brilliantly.” I smiled at Luc as the couple bade us farewell. “Letting them tag it so you never became their friend. No one will accuse you of planting that photo. And that look of annoyance when they took the picture.”

“You are not the only one who can pout for the camera. And where did you get that smile you used?”

“Some old Venetian woman. I hear she's in Paris now.”

“Ah.” He nodded vacantly. It took a few moments, but I could tell from his grin when he finally got my little joke.

“So,” Luc mused, “I imagine within an hour or two someone will flag the photo of our 'secret meeting', and the rumour machine will begin to build steam. I figure by tomorrow morning our phones won't cease ringing.”

“Your phone, sweetie. Remember, the only one who has MY number ...is you.” I touched the tip of his nose with my index finger.

“So you would like me to handle your management and booking?”

“I know it's not what you want to do with your life, but you handle your own bookings, no?” He nodded. “Well, just consider me another one of your assets that you are managing. If you like, have them book you, and I come along as just another piece of kit. They hire you, and one of the things you can offer them... is me.”

“That hardly seems fair. It is you they want. Not so much me.”

“Ah, but they wouldn't want me... they wouldn't even know I exist if not for you. This is your dream, your chosen career. I just did it as a lark. ….and because I had a crush on the photographer. I will continue to do it – with you – because it sounds like fun and it will be an adventure. I'm not doing it for the money. My ego is not that fragile that I crave the attention. It amuses me. And it gives me joy to see the attention you are getting. ...even if it is mistakenly attributed to me.”

“You are too gracious. But I am no fool. I accept your generous offer. I expect to have a number of preliminary project proposals by tomorrow night. I will prescreen them for you with an eye toward adventure and fun. No?”

“Perfect!”

“And money glamor and fame are not dealbreakers, no?”

“No, if they also involve money glamour and or fame, I will just suck it up and endure the hardships. I understand how much your reputation rides on this too. A boy has to eat.” I smiled warmly at him.

True to his word, Luc called on me the next evening with an embarrassing number of proposals. Most were quite intriguing and I had a difficult time passing on any of them.

“You know, you are committing to so many projects, you will hardly have a moment to yourself for the next 30 plus months.”

“Yes, but I've had plenty of time with myself. I'm bored with my own company. I'd much rather spend the next 30 months with you. ...if this even lasts 30 months.... fame is fleeting.”

“It can be. But it doesn't have to be. And something tells me you will be the one everyone is buzzing about until the fame no longer suits you.”

“As you wish master” I smiled, folded my arms and gave a 'Jeannie blink' that would do Barbara Eden proud.

“Hey, I thought you grew up without indoor plumbing, let alone TV. Where did you get that ?”

I laughed. “I felt like an alien visitor, I knew so little of the world. So I decided I'd be an alien anthropologist, and dove into my studies.” I smiled.

“Well, you are very, very good. No one would ever imagine who you once were.” Luc conceded.

I shuddered slightly at the thought.

“But one thing that has not changed. You continue to fill my head with thoughts.”

I blushed and batted my eyelashes. He furrowed his brow obviously not expecting this reaction. Then broke out in a loud laugh. “I meant, you are still my muse! You have the ability to inspire creative possibilities.”

I put on a mock pout and hung my head slightly. “Oh.... and I thought you were flirting with me.”

Luc leaned in, nuzzling the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. He then lifted his lips to my ear and whispered “Cheri, have you not yet realized that whenever we are together it is all flirt, all foreplay?”

“...I like foreplay...” I whispered back.

“I have noticed” he smiled a little sadly, and sat back in his seat. “All right. Since you have given me another fabulous idea, I have calls to make and a schedule to set up.” He gave me a very serious stare. “You meant what you said before about wanting to do this?”

I returned his gravity with levity,smiling back sweetly. “Of course I meant it.” Then I lowered my eyebrows and returned his serious stare “I never joke about my work”. My poker face was about to crack when Luc's broke first and he erupted in a stupid grin, which I quickly echoed. He clapped his hands together.

“Well. Then, I have work to do. I have to reschedule my other clients and prepare my new special project.”

“Are you even going to give a hint what this special project is?”

“What is there to tell? After all, it WAS your idea!”

That was no help. I just smiled politely and tried to brace myself for the unexpected. Again.

It took about 10 days for Luc to set up the shoot. He already began working on sets and wardrobe before locking in a client. Only Luc would put creative before commerce, and still find a way to make it work. I was left completely in the dark, so I spent some time visiting my sister, helping her move in to her new home.

“I can't believe you came out to help me move. Especially after you bought me my dream home.”

“I'm happy to be in a position to help”

“No. I mean.... you're loaded.... so why didn't you just hire a moving company?”

“Ahhh.... you mean a team of brawny movers, all at your command?” I laughed. Connie blushed.

“Busted. You have no trouble finding your own firemen, soldiers, EMTs and other strapping specimens. Say, have you ever dated an astronaut?” I laughed.

“Well......” she held the suspense as long as she could “there was this one guy who claimed to be one..... but I found out later he was just embarrassed to admit he was an exotic dancer” I stared at her, trying to process this information. Then we both exploded in laughter.

“Oh, yeah. That's a MUCH more mundane line of work!” I sobbed with laughter.

“So seriously. Why didn't you just hire someone to help me move?”

“Because I wanted to help myself. I missed you. ...I miss ….this.” I said, my laughter still dying down.

Connie got all serious and gazed at me, her eyes welling up and her chin beginning to quiver.

“Jesus. I still can't believe how hard I forced you to be a boy. Can you ever forgive me?”

It was my turn to get serious. Placing a hand on each shoulder and staring into her eyes. “Hey. You were doing what you thought was right. You did it to me for a little over a week. I did it to myself for well over a decade. You were a much faster learner.” I smiled lovingly.

“Yeah. Well you were an insistent teacher.”

“More like an incorrigible student” I laughed. Connie nodded vigorously and burst out laughing too, pulling me in to a tight hug. “I'd like to see you do this with a brawny moving man.” Connie giggled. “No! Actually I wouldn't! Let me rephrase that....” at which point we both broke into uncontrollable fits of giggling. The rest of the move remained that light and silly. It was a great visit and a sorely needed break.

The visit passed much too quickly. Connie insisted on driving me to the airport. I don't think she was quite ready to say goodbye either. I promised that as soon as I got settled on the coast, I would insist that she come for a long visit. She pretended to balk, saying she couldn't make any promises, then asked if Luc knew any hunky straight models who could show her around. We laughed until it was time to go through security and wait alone for my flight. I then had time to begin obsessing over what Luc was planning for my big 'comeback' photo shoot.

I had to laugh when I realized what Luc had planned. The set was an alarmingly accurate recreation of Major Anthony Nelson's apartment, complete with an uncanny doppelganger of a young Larry Hagman. While the retro feel was spot on, my “Jeannie outfit” somewhat ….veered from cannon.

“Barbara Eden never showed her belly button” I observed.

“So we will never know if her ...'belly button'...” Luc seemed tickled at this English term “was as lovely as yours. Even before we plant the jewel in it.”

“Yes. Jewelry. I don't think Jeannie was this ...sparkly”

“They had a TV budget. Fortunately we have an ad budget.”

“Yes, with all that money, you would think you would be able to afford a bit more ...fabric?” I smiled.

“You told me to handle it. You said to treat you as just another piece of my kit.”

“Yes, master” I mock pouted in my best Barbara Eden.

“This is going to be fucking BRILLIANT” the leering ad exec who had been eavesdropping on our conversation blurted out.

Luc and I glanced at each other and suppressed our grins.

The shoot ended up being a campaign for an aspiring hipster vodka brand, and the 1960s Sidney Sheldon vibe immediately appealed to them when Luc pitched it. When they found out that I was to be the Genie, they signed without hesitation. Their whole campaign revolved around the slogan”You will never find a more magical bottle. Well, almost never” and involved our ringers of young Larry Hagman, Bill Dailey and Haden Rourke in classic Jeannie situations, only all revolving around conspicuous consumption of the client's vodka, while I pouted jealously at the vodka bottle that was captivating all the boys. It was great fun and a full 16 hour day, But by the time we left, everyone was happy and exhausted.

The next few months were a blur of airports and hotel rooms, with the occasional break for actual work. If one could call strolling up and down an exotic tropical beach in various skimpy swimsuits for a sports magazine's summer issue, running around the city of lights like an escapee from Marie Antionette's entourage for a Parisian Fashion spread, whirlwind shoots in Dubai, Hong Kong and Singapore for an Australian department chain ad campaign and even a visit to Venezuala's Angel Falls for a spread for an outdoors adventure outfitter “work”. I also got to do some TV and cook with a beloved fixture of Russian television, surf on an Australian magazine show, tour Hungarian castles for a newspaper spread, and visit French wine country... to meet Luc's family.

Even by French standards the Brossards were extraordinary. Phillipe and Sylvie were like the French version of Blake and Alexis Carrington. The essence of debonair. But behind their air of easy charm, I sensed something that could be easily be taken for aloofness.

I interpreted it as ...reticence. They had spent their entire lives constructing this image, the public face of successes and nonchalance, and they guarded their privacy... their faces behind the masks, quite seriously.

I could respect that. I think we quickly came to an unspoken understanding that I saw and respected the facade. I understood its necessity, and had no problem with it.

They would reveal what they chose when they chose and I would not pressure them to do anything until they were ready.

I think that tacit, unspoken understanding sped the process of family acceptance quite rapidly. They quickly seemed to begin to let their guard down, and as we came to know – and like - each other, things became much more casual, but no less extraordinary.

Neither Phillipe or Sylvie came from money. They weren't exactly urchins, just exceptional children of hard working but doting parents.

They met at Universite where Phillipe was studying Architecture and Sylvie in textile sciences. They came together in an extracurricular project to design rapid deployment shelters for victims of earthquakes and other natural disasters in the third world.

Between Phillipe's design skill and Sylvie's knowledge of materials, and serendipitously, love of origami, they designed a light, rugged pop-up shelter that was quickly adopted by aid agencies around the world.

Neither of them made a cent off of it, but that was never the goal. However the public praise they received jumpstarted their reputations and became the foundation stones of their separate careers.

After staying in touch over a decade, they rekindled the relationship once their careers were firmly established, and explored the romantic spark that always seemed just under the surface in their heady college days.

“Very much like you and our Luc” Sylvie chortled.

“Oh. I will concede there was always a frisson of attraction there, that summer, but neither of us acted on it. We didn't want to jeopardize our ...collaboration... which seemed something very special, and possibly fragile.”

Phillipe laughed genially as Sylvie touched his arm. “Mon cher. Could you describe our time together at Universite any more succinctly?” she inquired. He shook his head.

“It seems the acorn does not fall far from the tree.” he chuckled. “It is so ...ironic”

“Ssshh” Sylvie chided.

I was intrigued. “What?”

“It's just that...” he smiled and waved off Sylvie's glare “We love all our children. And they are all exceptional in their way. Gaston is a brilliant scholar, tactician and historian. He is destined to be a world-class diplomat, or even a leader. Elise knew she wanted to be in medicine since she was a small girl and has never wavered. She has a natural talent for it and is weighing many promising opportunities. Laure was what you would call a child prodigy. She would pick up an instrument she had never seen before and within moments bring such sweet sounds you would not know she had not been practicing for years. That child could practically coax music from a stone.” ..he paused and got a faraway look. He turned to Sylvie with a smile. “Do you remember the time she got into your fine crystal?”

She laughed. “I was furious! She had taken it all from the cabinets and spread it across the tables, filling each goblet with water. I was about to take her over my knee when she dipped into a fingerbowl and began circling the rims, and the house ...resonated... with Pachelbel's Cannon!”

They both stopped and smiled at each other, lost momentarily in a shared memory. I marveled at this extraordinary couple and their equally extraordinary family.

“Ah.” Phillipe came back to the present. “Well, all of our children showed a talent, and an inclination very early on.”

I knew where this was going. “But Luc....”

Phillipe sighed. “He was every bit as bright as his siblings. He showed a natural ability for anything he tried his hand at. We never for a moment doubted that his talent would be the equal of his siblings. But he....”

“Lacked direction” Sylvie interjected.

“He was just a late bloomer” I proffered. “I know a little about that myself”

They both chuckled.

“Yes. Luc has told us a little about you.” Sylvie smiled.

“A little?” Phillipe raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what did he tell you? Maybe I can fill in some gaps.” I suggested.

“Well, he tells us that you were raised in a primitive cult until you escaped as a teen”

I smiled. “It was hardly a cult. Simply a strict religious community that spurned many so called 'modern conveniences' as distractions from the way pious people were intended to live. And I didn't escape. I went on a ritual coming of age pilgrimage to find myself and meditate on my life's path before returning. It's all very traditional. Hardly a cult.”

“Eh.” Phillipe waved it off. “But the fact that you did not return.....”

“I don't consider it a failure. I didn't see it as a pass-fail test. There were no wrong answers. I see it as a ...personality test... I found myself. AND I found my path. It just wasn't a path I ever could have imagined when I started.”

Sylive smiled. “Life is like that sometimes.” When I looked in her eyes, I saw unguarded warmth. Any earlier ...reticence.. was gone. I returned her smile.

“And shortly after I found myself. I found Luc. Or maybe he found me. I prefer to think we found each other.” I couldn't hide my smile and had no desire to. The Brossards both saw it and responded.

“I love the story of the art museum. Is that really how it happened?”

“I don't know exactly what Luc told you, but yes. He thought I was a museum worker and I thought he was a....” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase it to his parents “...chiot perdu”.

They laughed heartily. Sylvie then asked “How long did it take you to know that he spoke fluent English?”

“Well, he had me for a while. But I began to suspect when my friends were talking about him as if he was invisible. He kept a pretty straight face, but he seemed to be enjoying it. They would be mortified if they ever knew. By the time I met him at the theater that evening, all pretense was down. It was actually a pretty clever ruse pretending to have trouble with his phone”

“Oh no, I believe that part was true. But when the pretty English girl came over to help, he just...”

“Seized the opportunity?” I smiled.

“Exactly!” Phillipe nearly shouted. And just as suddenly he got very quiet. “And he found his muse.” The Brossards clasped hands and shared a moment between them. Again, I felt there was a personal backstory that I was not privy to, But it seemed a precious moment between them so I sat quietly and left them to it.

“So!” Phillipe clasps his hands.“Magical summer. Luc comes back to boast about this girl he met, and the big things he will do with his life, and how he is so looking forward to beginning school in the States. And suddenly he has...”

“...found his direction” Sylvie smiles. I love the way they finish each others sentences.

While I was touched by their warm gazes, it went on a little too long and I began to squirm. They must have noticed.

“So. What did you do after that summer?” Sylvie asked politely.

“Well. I returned to Chicago and moved in with my sister. Eventually I got work as a clerical assistant with an international conglomerate, and joined some coworkers to form a small startup. Which met with some success, and no longer needed what I could offer, so I took some time to decide what I wanted to do next with my life, and circumstances led me back to Luc.”

“You make it all sound so ...mundane. The story Luc tells is much more impressive.”

“There's nothing impressive about my life. Except finding your son.”

“And so modest too! How did Luc find such a girl? Tell me dear. Are there more like you at home?”

The laugh exploded before I could stop it. “I surely hope not!” It was spontaneous and I instantly regretted it would come off like vanity. Mercifully, it did not seem to be taken that way.

Having hit it off so well with Luc's intimidating parents, I was a little more relaxed about meeting the rest of his family when they came up for the weekend.

They were all charming and gracious, just like their parents. Someone with a fragile ego could easily be intimidated by this group of stunning overachievers. Still, I could feel the pressure of parental approval on each of them.

Gaston was the ever gracious diplomat and I could tell immediately he would go far. His companion seemed to be just another accessory in his travel kit, but she seemed nice and had her own reasons for being the arm candy of an obvious up and comer.

Elise traveled alone and conceded she was such a science nerd that she was focused on her career and not her love life. She figured she had plenty of time for that, and suddenly started telling me about this radical new company that was doing amazing things with genetic reprogramming and she wondered if they grasped the obvious-to-her implications for completely halting and maybe even reversing human aging.

“They call it the Methusula Gene. And yes. They grasped it from the beginning. The only thing holding them back is the politics and the ….disruptive... nature of such technology”

“How can you know this?”

“I used to work with Doctors Chayapurna, Sukharnov,... well you know them. I used to work with “the Five” as they used to call themselves.”

“Yes. The story is that is why they named their company.... Wait! You used to work with them Ali?”

I sensed the light bulb going off. I nodded sternly.

“YOU'RE the 'A'!”

I nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Merde! Ces't incroyable! Why did you walk away?”

“The science has been done. The real obstacle is political and financial. Too many interests stand to lose too much if this world changing technology actually works. Which it does.”

“You're sure?”

“Certain. We've done it in the lab Cured cancer. Reversed aging. So far the only thing that's made it to the market is a hair regrowth formula, and that was only after convincing the powers that be that the lost revenues from the hair transplant industry would be miniscule compared to the expanded hair products market. The science turned out to be easy. It's the politics that's proving to be hard. It sure would be handy for future leaders in their fields like you and Gaston to take up this cause and make sure these world changing miracles see the light of day and don't get perverted into devastating bioweapons”

Her eyes went wide. “I hadn't even thought of that!”

“We have. And there are safeguards in place, but our opposition is formidable and widespread. This technology needs all the allies it can get.”

“And you know this works.”

“Absolutely certain.”

“How can you be so sure? Lab results are a good indication, but...”

“Have you heard of 'subject zero'”

“Sure. Who hasn't? It's an urban legend.”

“No. It isn't. I mean they aren't.”

“You really did live tests on a human subject?”

“Yes. We did. So I know it works.”

“You mean the 5 scientists did.”

“Well, actually it was only one scientist. And me”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me?....”

I nodded.

“I find this very hard to believe. First to be told that subject zero is NOT an urban legend. And then for you to imply...”

“I'm not implying. I'm declaring. I was subject zero. I never had a moments hesitation. I knew how brilliant these guys were. I trusted them with my life. And they saved decades of testing and bureaucracy. I understand your skepticism. You wouldn't be much of a scientist otherwise. Would you like a polygraph?”

“A cheek swab would be more useful.” she smiled.

“Get a kit. I'll wait.” I replied patiently.

“No. That won't be necessary. I believe you. Why would you make that up? What could you gain?”

“Not a thing. And a lot to lose. So I'm trusting you to doctor patient confidentiality, ok?”

“But you are not my patient.”

“OK. Get that swab kit. Then I will be.”

She smiled. “OK. You're my patient. My FIRST patient by the way. Wow. My first patient was urban legend 'Subject Zero'.... and I can't tell a soul!” Her face went a little sad.

“You never know. Someday you may. And I'm sure by that time that will be the least interesting thing about your career. Seriously, if you ever want to talk or consult with any of the Five, just let me know. I have a feeling you would hit it off. And they trust me when it comes to bringing people together.”

Well, I had undoubtedly won over Elise. Gaston had been tactfully unopposed to me. Next up was Luc's twin, Laure.

She was the least reserved of the entire family and we hit it off immediately. How could anyone not instantly fall in love with this girl? She was so full of life and joy and unrestrained curiosity. She was the embodiment of the term 'free spirit'.

“So you're the muse?” she beamed as she bounded up to me. I tried to return her smile, but could not match the sheer intensity. “I wish I had a muse.”

“I can't imagine you'd need one. You seem to be your own muse.”

“You know, you're right! Very perceptive. I can see why everyone likes you.” somehow, her smile got even wider. She practically skipped out to the stone terrace overlooking the green rolling hills. I somehow knew I was expected to follow.

“You're parents are delightful. Your sister is scary smart but easy to talk to. Luc is... well...” I blushed.

Laure giggled.

“But I don't think Gaston likes me.”

“Oh. Gaston doesn't like anyone. He doesn't dislike you. And that's about as good as it gets from Gaston. Even with his own family.” I could see her processing something. “See! Gaston already treats you like family!” she grinned.

“I like the way you look at things.”

“Sometimes the only thing you have control over is how you see things.”

“And so wise too. So why aren't you a philosopher?”

Laure scowled. “Too QUIET!” Then she furrowed her brow and rested her chin on her fist “And too many wrinkles!” and the carefree grin returned. How can anyone not love this girl?

“So the boys must be knocking each other over for your attentions.”

“Meh. Artboys. They're ...fun... but it's all about them. Their installation, their performance piece, their rent money”

I nodded.

“Nothing against boys, but I'm having too much fun with my music. I get to travel across the E.U. Play with amazing orchestras, attend amazing festivals and events.... boys are... too much work.”

I nodded.

“Still, I like to think about my amazing wedding. With a full orchestra, total age of opulence thing. The ultimate performance piece before a select hand-picked audience. Oh the things I could do....”

“And you will” I smiled.

“Not anytime soon, I hope!” and we both laughed. I could not imagine this effervescent sprite sitting still for the duration of a wedding service, let alone settling into a domestic life. Not anytime soon.

The weekend seemed to be going well, and I kind of hated the thought of leaving. It was ...tranquil, here. But not boring. I could see why the Brossards settled here, and why for the children, wherever their careers took them, this was always “home”. I started to get all sentimental and had to check my mental calendar. Yeah. That would explain it. That and the fact that this was a marvelous and welcoming family.

Sunday was quite an affair. I accompanied the Brossards to Catholic Mass which was really something for a reasonably pious kid who never missed services at our very humble clapboard chapel. I marveled at the ways different people interacted with the Divine. But I figured a Creator who was capable of peppering the world with such diversity warranted nothing less than equally diverse methods of praise. The setting was an ancient French Cathedral and the majesty of the ritual perfectly suited the surroundings.

After Mass we returned for a sumptuous formal Sunday dinner. I don't know if they did this because they had company or if it was a weekly routine, but the ritual and pageantry of the meal was every bit as impressive and overwhelming as the church service.

Even though I had only known them for a few days, there was already an ease between us. It felt as if we had been doing this for years. Stupid PMS. I was getting overwhelmed with emotions sharing the table with this wonderful family. I asked to be excused and stepped out to the terrace for air. I was NOT going to blubber in front of everyone.

Luc came out and caught me mid sob.

“Hey. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just... your family has been so welcoming, and I... I really like them.”

“Even Gaston?” That broke my sobs, and I nodded and giggled.

Luc held me and looked me in the eye. “And they like you too. No that's wrong. They adore you.”

“Even Gaston?” I smirked.

Luc shrugged “Meh. No one can ever tell with him.” and we both laughed and hugged.

“Now that my family's so taken with you, I don't think I could get rid of you if I wanted to. They would never forgive me.”

“So don't ditch me for the next pretty muse that comes along.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. In fact...” it was then that I saw everyone standing together at the glass doors to the terrace, arms around each other ...except Laure, who was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. I turned back to Luc just as he dropped to one knee....

The next 20 months were a blur, between fulfilling Luc's photoshoot schedule and planning the wedding. The Brossard women were marvelous. Laure may have no intention of settling down, but she had been planning her storybook wedding since she was 9. She was more than happy to executive produce her fantasy wedding, especially since she got to have all the “fun” and avoid the “till death do us part” bit. I was happy to play the lead in her production, since nothing in my life prepared me for planning my own storybook wedding. Back home it would be a simple, humble affair in the chapel. A festive meal and celebration, then back to the farm chores the next day. I didn't crave the pageantry, but I didn't mind it either. It was the latest unbelievable adventure in the unfolding miracle that was my life since Rumspringa. Since the family of the bride traditionally paid for the wedding, and money was not an issue for me, I told Laure to dream big. As if she needed to be told.

Luc approached me gingerly about the subject, but I quickly dispelled any misgivings he may have had about turning my “Bride phase” into yet another opportunity for Studio Brossard to expand into even more areas of fashion and style photography. While Laure was still in charge, she now had minions from throughout the industry who were competing to be on the roster of the buzz machine's latest hot celebrity wedding.

It was a storybook event. I think most of the village was there, which was fine with me. My side of the church only had my sister Connie, and about a dozen friends and coworkers and spouses from A+5, and Martin Sachs. I was surprised and flattered that he came. He told me at the reception that he was surprised and honored that I'd asked. He's a good man and a great steward, and the world needs more like him. Connie didn't mind that I kept three open seats for Temperance, Felicity and Chastity. We knew that they couldn't come even if they wanted, but if word ever got back, I wanted them to know that they were there in spirit... in the front pew right next to my big sister.

The town hadn't changed a bit. I was overcome with the memory of the six of us waiting for the bus to carry us off on the great adventure that was to be our Rumspringa.

Luc had insisted on seeing where I grew up before we returned to France to begin the next phase of our adventure, so once I got his word that we would simply be tourists and have no interaction with “the natives”, we rented a car and I directed him to my hometown.

He loved the “ruralness” of it. The stark simplicity. The unambiguous blacks, whites and grays of everything. I think he regretted shooting color and mused out loud about going for an Ansel Adams look with his finished photo essay.

He was off shooting sheds or tines in fields or something, while I lingered behind. I couldn't gallivant the way I used to, and he graciously left me behind. I smiled when I walked into the grocery store and saw more of our last 30 months of projects smiling out from the magazine rack. “..Even here...” I thought to myself. I wondered if Tem or Felicity ever came in for supplies and spied the smiling face on the magazine cover and smiled back secretly.

Suddenly a loud uproar came from the door and this ...whirlwind... of children scattered every which way with a very harried, very pregnant woman lagging in their wake. One of the littler ones, I'd guess 3 or 4 careened into me, sending his straw hat flying down the aisle and his mop of unruly brown hair spewing like a broccoli sprig.

“Zephram!” The woman scolded. Pick yourself up. What do you say?

He looked up at me with big sincere eyes and said in his tiny voice “Sorry Ma'am.”

I couldn't help but smile and pat him on the head.”It's alright. No harm done. Just slow down and be careful.”

“Yes ma'am” and he hung his tiny head,

“Now go get your hat and find your brothers and sisters.” I patted his back and gently propelled him in the direction of his hat. He looked up at me, smiled and scurried off.

“I'm SO sorry. He's usually so well behaved. He's just excited. It's the first time we let him join us on a trip into town.”

“I understand. Yours?”

She smiled.

“All of them?”

She startled. “Oh, heavens NO! ...Well, four of the seven. I have four.”

“Counting?” I looked down at her swelling belly.

“No. Five soon.” she smiled sheepishly.

“Very soon.”

She smiled and lifted her eyes upward. “From your lips to his ears!”

There was a ….dare I call it a pregnant pause?

“And what about you?” she smiled.

“My first”

“Ah...” she nodded and smiled a cheshire cat grin.

“What?” I asked smiling back.

“You'll see. I wouldn't want to spoil the fun.”

“Fun, is it?”

“Oh yes, actually. The hardest work you will ever do. But also the most rewarding, On the hard days, keep remembering the best days. They get you through.”

“Thank you miss....”

“Um, Chastity.”

“What a lovely name. So ...biblical. But a little unwieldy. Do your friends call you Chastity, or does anyone ever shorten it to something... like Chaz?”

She looked at me for the longest time without saying a word, then her eyes got far away and I began to worry that I broke her. Suddenly she was yanked back to earth.

“Chastity!” The woman barked as she strode through the door. “Round up your brood. We're waiting outside!”

“I have to go home now.” she said to me almost apologetically, and waddled off to fetch the children.

I walked over to the other woman. “It was my fault. I roped her into conversation and got her all distracted.”

“Don't blame yourself. It's not that hard.” she smiled. Then she kind of froze with the smile still half on her face. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “I'm sorry. Do I know you from someplace? You... look....”

I backed over to the magazine rack and held the swimsuit issue next to my face.

“Ohmigosh! That's where I've seen you!” then she took a good look at me and smiled. “I guess that was a while ago.”

“Almost a year” I smiled. “Hi Tem.”

She gasped, and for a moment I was afraid she'd forget to start breathing again.

“H..H...How? How do you... I mean how does a swimsuit model know me?”

I smiled and opened the magazine to the masthead and credits including the cover page. Handing it to her with my finger placed by the credits.

“Photo Luc Brossard. Model Alexandra Crowe?” She still wasn't getting it.

“Eight years and you haven't changed a bit.” I gazed at her warmly. She looked back more perplexed than ever. “Neither has Luc. He's every bit as dashing as that day we met him at the museum. I on the other hand...” and I patted my swollen belly.

“Alexandra? ...Allison? ….Lee-”

“Everyone just calls me Ali. God, I've missed you Tem.” and I wrapped my arms around her.

“But. How... Wh..HOW???...”

“Luc wanted to see where I grew up before we flew back to France. Oh, I wish you could have been there Tem. It was a storybook wedding. We saved places for you Felicity and Chas. You were there in our hearts. If you ever see Connie, she can tell you all about it. It was lovely. More than I could have ever dreamed.”

She touched my belly and jumped back with a start.

“Yeah, she does that a lot. Well, I say “she” because I really do want to name her Serendipity. But it could be a boy. ...never want to jump to conclusions” I smiled. “One thing for certain, this baby is going to grow up to be a kickboxer!”

Temperance just stood back trying to compose her thoughts. “But. But HOW?”

I inhaled deeply and locked her gaze. “I'd heard the phrase all my life, but until I left with you for Rumspringa I never grasped the enormity of the saying 'God works in mysterious ways'.”

I wrapped my arms around her and gave her another strong hug. “I can't begin to thank you”

She looked at me blankly, I think she was still stunned and overwhelmed and trying to wrap her head around everything.”Thank ME?” She truly didn't know. “For what?”

“...for my LIFE!” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her for dear life. My life. She spread her arms around me and we both held onto each other until we were unceremoniously broken up when the baby started kicking like crazy. We broke apart and erupted in laughter, overcome with wonder and joy at the ways the world can always exceed imagination.