I'm with the Band

by Melanie Brown

  “I think he’s much too busy to bother coming out here, anyway,” said Mom. “I need to get dinner started. Want to help?”

  Mom seemed to be exposing a suppressed desire for a daughter. I said, “Sure, Mom. What do you want me to do?”

  * * *

  I just finished my homework. I glanced at the clock and noted the rapid approach of bedtime. There was a knock on the door. It was still too early for John to be off from his job at Taco Bell. I said, “Come in.”

  Mom came in and sat down next to me on the bed. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Winters. Needless to say, he’s very disappointed that you would turn down such a lucrative opportunity. He said he’d check to see if he could get you out of your contract.”

  “I didn’t sign a contract,” I protested.

  “Apparently you did when we were signing all those papers late Saturday,” said Mom.

  “You said it was all ‘standard stuff’ and not to bother reading it!” I exclaimed.

  “Sorry.”

  “Do you think I should stay in the deal?” I asked.

  Mom shrugged and said, “It’s your life, Honey. I thought it was a wonderful opportunity for exposure. But if you’re not comfortable with it, well...” Her voice trailed away.

  “Great! I’m glad that’s over. The last thing in the world I want to do is to be on television, telling people I use tampons!” I felt like a load had lifted from my shoulders.

  * * *

  I sat in my seat, completely numb and staring blankly at the blackness outside the airline window. Mom sat next to me, reading a book. This was not a happy Friday.

  I was on my way back to Hollywood for a quick weekend. When Mr. Winters checked with Tampax’ marketing department about my contract, they upped my pay fifteen percent instead. He decided to not kill the contract and told me that for an income that size for an at-the-time complete nobody, I could put up with the indignity of hawking tampons.

  We had a very tight schedule to shoot a television commercial Saturday for Satin Teen tampons.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  We arrived at our hotel room fairly late Friday night. Since we had to be up pretty early, we went straight to bed. Well, after I washed my hair, of course. Then Mom manicured my nails, admonishing me for just clipping them without filing and shaping them. She then painted them with a pretty pink polish.

  Saturday morning around seven, we strolled into the ad agency’s studio. I hadn’t bothered with putting on any make-up that morning. When we arrived, they ushered me straight to make-up. I thought I looked frightful, but the make-up girl, Ms. Grant, kept commenting about how little make-up she was going to need to give me that fresh-faced, teen girl next door look.

  While I was being made up, they rolled in a couple of racks of clothes. Mom had faxed them my measurements a few days before so I wouldn’t have to have measurements taken there. Standing there in my underwear, it would be painfully obvious that I had no boobs at all and even though I had no testicles to bulge in my panties and I could push the not-so-mister-happy back up inside, there would still be a tell tale bulge in my panties.

  Mom had also faxed back my signed application to the Screen Actors Guild so I’d be allowed to stand in front of the camera. Mr. Winters would guarantee the dues. Unions were none too popular back home, and Dad wasn’t happy with the idea. Frankly, I didn’t care for having yet another slice of my, so far alleged, income siphoned off before I even saw one dime. But without it, I couldn’t do the commercials.

  While the crew was setting up the studio, I rummaged through the racks of clothes. I hope they weren’t intending to have me wear all of these. There were various dresses, including a cheerleader dress, jeans, shorts and a variety of tops.

  I walked into the studio and was rather disappointed with what I saw. There was one camera, and from the ceiling hung several large lights. There was a white backdrop hanging from the ceiling down to the floor. There weren’t any sets and beyond the backdrop were just bare studio walls. A few cables and saw horses cluttered the floor. People hurried back and forth on tasks that I had no idea what they were doing.

  While I was standing there, I saw Mom approach. With her was some guy I’d never seen before.

  “Michelle,” said Mom, “this is Rob Stillwell. He’s the director for your commercial.”

  He extended his hand and I placed a limp hand into it. He just gripped my fingers and gave them a quick shake and let go. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Grayson,” Mr. Stillwell said pleasantly. “We’ll get started shortly. See Ms. Snodgrass, that young lady over there in yellow? She’ll be helping you with your wardrobe selection. You can change in private over there. Be sure to let Ms. Grant know if think your make-up needs attention. Have you ever shot a commercial before?”

  I shook my head and said, “No sir. Just modeling for a magazine ad.”

  Mr. Stillwell nodded and said, “Being in front of a camera doesn’t bother or embarrass you?” I shook my head and he added, “Good. I’ve heard you’re easy to work with, so this should go fast today.”

  I took another look around at the activity in the studio and couldn’t believe what I saw. Tommy Kincaid was just coming out of the room where Ms. Grant does the make-up. He saw me, waved and started heading in my direction. What is this guy — a stalker?

  Tommy bounded up and gave me a big hug.

  “Tommy! What are you doing here?” I asked as he finally let go.

  Feigning being indignant, he said, “Well, that’s a fine greeting!”

  “Sorry, I’m just surprised...”

  Grinning, he said, “That was the plan! I heard last Monday that you were going to be doing this commercial. I hurried over to audition for the male model role the commercial calls for. At first, they told me they couldn’t afford me, but I said I’d work for scale.”

  Monday? Monday! I didn’t know about this until Thursday. This commercial was scheduled before Mom called to ask if I could quit the contract. Mom had to have known, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Okay people!” Mr. Stillwell suddenly shouted. “We’re about ready to start. I need my tampon girl over here!”

  I frowned and thought Oh come on! Just call me Michelle! I hurried over to him, as he was motioning me to hurry. Tommy followed close behind.

  When I arrived, Mr. Stillwell said, “Okay, here’s the plan. Ms. Grayson, you’ll always stand where that small ‘x’ is on the white drop. On my signal, move to the where the ‘1’ is. We’ll ask you to do something that’s appropriate for the costume you’ll be wearing for each take.”

  He paused, so I asked, “What do I say?”

  Mr. Stillwell shook his head and said, “Nothing. You mainly just stand there.”

  “I don’t say anything?”I asked, incredulous.

  “You’ll read a voice-over when we’re done shooting. You can read, can’t you, sweetie?”

  “Of course I can read! Do I hold up the product or anything?”

  Again Mr. Stillwell shook his head and was starting to look impatient. He said, “No, we’ll shoot a hand model later today. That is, if we ever get done with this part.”

  I turned to Tommy and asked, “He’s kidding, right?”

  Tommy just shook his head and said, “No.”

  Before I could say anything else, Mr. Stillwell said, “Okay, people! We’ve got work to do. Ms. Grayson, if you’d be so kind as to go see Ms. Snodgrass and change into your first costume. Be back here in five minutes.”I hesitated and he made a ‘shooing’ motion.

  I looked for the girl in yellow and hurried over to her. She was already holding some clothes.

  As she handed them to me, Ms. Snodgrass said, “Just go in that room there to change.”

  It was a small room with a bench on the floor, a hook on the wall, and mirror on the wall and not much else. I quickly stripped and hung my clothes on the hook.

  I looked at the clothes handed to me. It was pink mi
ni dress with a ruffled skirt. I also had white tennies and large hoop earrings. I quickly took my earrings off and slid them into a pocket on my pants hanging on the hook. I slid into the dress, and it was a perfect fit. I looked at myself in the mirror, and on sudden impulse, spun around quickly and watched the skirt flare out. I briefly wondered if I’d be allowed to keep the dress. I slid on my shoes, put the earrings on and left the dressing room.

  Mr. Stillwell motioned me over to my spot. He waved at someone and a fan started blowing, making my skirt and hair wave around a little.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Stillwell, “on my signal, Tampon Girl puts on a big smile, and takes one step from her first mark to the second mark. Put your hands on your hips, look at the camera like you’re in love with it -- Tommy, go stand beside the camera -- and continue to smile until I say ‘cut’. Got it? Good. Let’s do it.”

  I stood on my mark as directed, and tried to smooth out my skirt. I looked up and there was Tommy with a big ear-to-ear grin. I smiled at him and looked back at my feet to make sure I was where I was supposed to be.

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” barked the director. I looked up and he was counting down. He then pointed his finger at me.

  I smiled what I hoped was a nice big smile and took a single step over to the other mark and stared at Tommy, who grinned right back at me. I stood there smiling for what seemed an eternity.

  “Cut!” shouted Mr. Stillwell. “Okay, sweetie. That looked good. Go get into your next costume.”

  I felt confused, but I hurried back over to Ms. Snodgrass.

  Ms. Snodgrass handed me a cheerleader uniform and some pom-poms. As I took the uniform, she said, “Put the costume you’re wearing in that box when you come out.” She pointed to a large box next to her. So much for keeping the dress.

  We went through pretty much the same routine with the cheerleader uniform. I got to wave the pom-poms and Mr. Stillwell asked me to back up and try doing a cartwheel. I’d never tried doing a cartwheel before and not only did I fall on my behind, I somehow managed to kick one of the studio lights over.

  The whole morning was a quick succession of costume changes and stepping in front of the camera. It was a lot more boring than I thought it would be.

  For one shot, Tommy was standing near my second mark and was wearing a tux! I was dressed in a blue satin formal gown that made a swishing sound when I walked. The high heels put me at eye level with Tommy. Ms. Grant had spent a few minutes trying to fix my hair in a quick, elegant style.

  Tommy just stood there as I moved into the shot, and then, I was sent back for another change. For one brief moment, the thought of me wearing this gown and going to the premier of Tommy’s new movie, being escorted down the red carpet by Tommy himself passed through my mind. I immediately pushed the thought out of my head.

  It was about one in the afternoon, and I was getting tired and hungry. Mr. Stillwell said, “We’ll do one or two more then break for lunch. Sometime today, Michelle.”

  I rushed over to my now very familiar mark. I was wearing a very short, white tennis dress and had a racket in my hand. Mr. Stillwell gave me the signal, and I stepped to my second mark. I stood there as I had all morning and smiled. Suddenly, I felt a pair of lips on my cheek. It took me totally by surprise, and in an instant, I realized it was Tommy giving me a kiss. I felt embarrassed and looked at the floor for a second, and then I looked back around me at Tommy, who was laughing. I felt compelled to laugh as well. I just knew that Mr. Stillwell was going to blow a gasket.

  “Cut!” shouted Mr. Stillwell. “Did you get that Roland? Great! Thanks Tommy. Michelle’s reaction was perfect. I think we’ll close the ad with that one. Okay, everyone. Be back here at two thirty. We’ll move the camera and get set up again so when we all get back, we can shoot the face shots.”

  “There’s more?”I asked, still laughing a little at Tommy.

  Mr. Stillwell looked at me like I was an idiot, “Of course, now we select a few pieces of wardrobe, mainly just the tops, and get a slow-mo shot of your face with your hair blowing freely in the wind.”

  Tommy stepped up to me and asked, “Hey, you want to go to lunch with me? There’s a Burger King just around the corner. My treat.”

  Surprised, I looked down my nose at him and asked, “Burger King?”

  Tommy laughed and said, “Don’t look so surprised! I’m a kid too, you know! Besides, all that lobster, caviar and pâté gets a little old after a while.”He then winked.

  “Okay, sure! Let me go change.” I hurried back to the changing room. By now, I was an expert at changing my clothes.

  Tommy looked up from where he was sitting, “Wow, that was quick. I just sat down.” He stood up, took my hand and said, “Let’s go!”

  I looked quickly for Mom, spotted her and waved with my free hand. She just smiled and waved back.

  Tommy led me out of the studio, down the block and around the corner. There, as promised, was a Burger King. As we approached it, Tommy said, “This isn’t a celebrity hang-out, so hopefully we’ll be able to eat free of any paparazzi or reporters.”

  We placed our orders and sat down to eat. After unwrapping and picking up my burger, I casually laid my free hand on the table. Tommy immediately placed his hand on mine, then picked it up and stroked it with his thumb.

  “So soft. And small. Like the rest of you, you have pretty hands,” Tommy said just before taking a bit of his burger. Does this guy ever quit?

  I looked at my hand, and it indeed did look small while in Tommy’s grasp. Well, he is two years older than me... and he has testosterone flowing through his body, and I don’t. I sighed at the thought that now, because of my new career, I’d have to delay any HRT until the band fizzled.

  At my sigh, Tommy gave my hand a little squeeze, and he gave me a dopey smile. I can’t seem to make any move that Tommy doesn’t misinterpret.

  Tommy looked towards the door as it opened and groaned, “Well, so much for escaping paparazzi. See that guy over there?” He pointed towards the door where a rather large man with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and wearing a rumpled red Hawaiian shirt. He also had an expensive and really nice digital camera hanging around his neck.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “That’s Nick Arger and he’s a major pest. He’s always hunting me down. I’m sure one of his contacts informed him of the commercial we’re shooting today.” He took another bite then added, “If you look up asshole in the dictionary, his picture is by the definition.”

  “He’s bound to see us.” Tommy went silent a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he said, “Can I move over to your side? Then, unless he sits right there,” Tommy pointed, “he might not see my face.”

  For all I knew, the guy Tommy fingered as ‘Nick’ might be just some tourist, and Tommy was using him as an excuse to sit next to me. Until I knew different, I had to give him the benefit of a doubt. I smiled at him and said, “Sure, Tommy. I’d like that.”

  Tommy wasted no time in sliding next to me. He slid one arm behind me, resting it on back of the seat. I’ll have to talk to Mom about getting a restraining order.

  Tommy ooched over to make sure our legs were touching and he said, “I really missed you this week, Michelle. I’m so glad you came back to town this weekend.”

  I ooched a little bit over to make sure our legs weren’t touching and said, “Thanks for the flowers, Tommy. They were very pretty.”

  I felt Tommy’s hand drop on my shoulder. “You’re very welcome.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added, “You know, when you finish with school for the summer, you should move out here. That would be really cool.”

  I didn’t know what to do about his hand. Would it be rude to push it off? I said, “Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I could move away from my friends and family. Back home, people are nice to you because they like you. Here they’re nice to you because they think you have money.”

  Tommy laughed, “Wow! You’re too yo
ung to be so cynical! I like you and I don’t give a flip if you have money or not.”

  “Thank you and I appreciate that. It’s nice to see a friendly face here,” I said honestly. Then, Tommy was resting his arm across my shoulder instead of the back of the seat.

  His hand was suddenly stroking my hair. He smiled and said, “You’re a nice girl, Michelle.” He changed to a serious tone as he continued, “Don’t let this industry or this town change you. It’s very easy to let it.”

  I smiled and said, “Now you’re being cynical!”

  He flashed a humorless smile and said, “You’re perfect. I just don’t want anything to change that.”

  I smiled at him and said, “I’ll try not to let it change me.” Much anyway. By the way, did you know I used to be a boy? I mean, I am a boy?

  Tommy was about to say something else, when some movement off to the side caught his attention. He whispered, “He’s coming this way! Quick!” He pulled me closer to him and kissed me. I felt his other hand hold the back of my head as his tongue entered my mouth. I saw a bright flash. I tried to pull away, but Tommy’s strong hand held my head in place.

  “Thanks, Tommy!” said a gruff voice. “That’s a great picture!”

  Tommy disengaged himself and he turned to face the source of the voice, “Nick, you bastard. I was trying to hide from you.”

  Nick laughed and said, “I saw you the moment I walked in. I knew you weren’t going anywhere soon, though and I was hungry. So, I took my time.” He quickly snapped another picture. “I should get a lot for these pics!”

  Scowling, Tommy said, “Maybe you’ll be able to buy a new shirt.” Turning to me, he took my hand and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  I pulled my hand back and said, “I can’t believe you did that!” I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a dirty look. Another picture was snapped.

  Tommy stood up and shouted, “Nick! Will you please leave?”

  Nick towered over Tommy. He said, “Or you’ll do what, runt? I have every right to be here.”