by Linda Kage
Remembering Asher’s reminder about our gig, I’d realized I hadn’t gotten an exact time. And thus had begun the ten-minute debate with myself whether I should call or text him…and it had to be him I contacted; he’d been the only band member who’d bothered to exchange numbers with me. So, I’d ended up going with a text, since calling would be disastrous; I knew too well what hearing his voice did to me.
And yet I still managed to flub even texting up. I was once again groaning through my embarrassment when the front door blew open and Jodi breezed inside, toting a small bag and a big smile.
“Hey, puta. Damn, do I have some goodies for you!” Then she pulled to a stop as she got a look at me. “You’re still in your mask.”
“Huh?” I blinked at her before I realized… “Oh, shit. I am. I just got home from band practice.” As I slowly peeled my “Sticks” mask off over my head, I grinned, giddy from actually being able to say I’d been to a practice…with my new rock band! “You know, I actually dig this whole gay idea.” I had already texted her that the guys had caught me scoping out Asher’s bare chest and about the whole gay conversation that had followed. “Now I can check out a guy,” meaning Asher, since I was sure I wouldn’t notice other men while he was around, “and no one will think it’s weird. Shit, why didn’t I come up with this idea before even auditioning with them? It’s brilliant.”
Then I scratched at a place right on the inside of my upper thigh where my man panties I hadn’t taken off yet were chaffing.
Jodi squinted at me scratching myself. “Sweetie, you do remember you’re a girl, right?”
I jerked my hand from my crotch. “Yes. Hush. Besides, the man panties you made me were itching like crazy.”
She sighed. “I’ll forget you just bashed my clever invention, because I’m still too jazzed about all the awesome shit I just did for you.”
“Why? What’d you do?”
Sniffing airily, she fluttered out a hand in a girly, dramatic fashion. “Well… despite the fact I don’t approve of this idea and I think you’re crazy for actually going out like this in public tomorrow, I decided to show my support for you, anyway. And I bought you a couple things you’ll need.”
Sitting up straighter, I clapped happily. “Really?” Ooh, gifts! I loved gifts. “I knew there was a reason I adored you. What’d you get me?”
“For starters, there’s this…” She pulled a small chunk of plastic that looked like a credit card from the bag and waved it with a flourish before stopping to display it for me. “A fake ID!”
Blinking, I slowly slid it from her hand. “Oh, wow. You shouldn’t have. This is so awesome, Jodi.”
The last time I’d tried to get a fake ID, I was seventeen and my uncle had discovered it before I could even try to go to a bar with it. Surprisingly it was still naughtily thrilling to have one, even at twenty-three.
Jodi had taken a couple pictures of me after dressing me up the first time, but I figured it was for school credit or something…not this. I snickered at my manly mug set alongside my real name and weight and height. Actually, the only thing that wasn’t true, was the picture…and honestly, that was me too, just…an altered version. Even the gender was marked the same.
“Wait, this says I’m a female.”
Scowling, Jodi ripped it from my hand and carefully tucked it into a brand new wallet. “As if anyone’s going to check for an F or an M. Gah.” She handed the wallet back, which must be another present from her. “You probably won’t even get carded.”
“True,” I murmured, standing up to test out what it felt like to stash a wallet in my back pocket. My butt cheek flinched in surprise as the billfold slid past it and into place. Interesting. Not painful, or ticklish, or anything; just different.
“And….I saved the best for last.” Jodi tossed a flesh-colored chunk of silicone at me.
I caught it against my chest before pulling it away and turning it at all angles, studying it. It looked like some kind of funky-shaped funnel.
“Uh…thank you. But…” I squinted at her. “What the hell is it?”
“It’s a Go Girl.”
“I’m sorry, a what girl?”
Sighing, she rolled her eyes and strode over to yank it out of my hand. “A female urination device. You know, so you can pee standing up.” Demonstrating, she held it up to her crotch so it poked out like a strap-on. Then she made a hissing sound and swiveled her hips as if she were pissing all over the floor.
I would’ve laughed—because it was freaking hilarious—but I had a bad feeling she actually meant for me to use this thing.
“Umm…” I scratched the side of my hair where the wig had left me all itchy. “You’re not joking right now, are you?”
She stopped fake peeing and straightened, lowering the urination device from her privates. “What? I was just thinking…you’re going to be hanging out in a public club all evening and eventually you’re going to have to go.” She shrugged. “Since you’ll be in man drag, I just assumed you’d have to use the little boys’ instead of the little girls’ room. This way, you won’t look so suspicious if you’re caught sitting down to take a leak. And look…” She held it up proudly. “I even got you the khaki-colored one so it could look more penis-like.”
“¡Dios mío!” I covered my eyes with my hand. “Please don’t tell me they come in different colors?”
“My favorite was the lavender, but I figured it wouldn’t help your cause any to go that route.”
“¡Locos!” I shook my head, unable to believe she could act so serious right now.
“Check it.” She bent the funnel into a different shape. “The reviews said this was the best brand since it’s more flexible for storage.”
“And…they’re so popular they come in different brands,” I murmured in disbelief. Of course, they did. “How the hell have I never heard of a Go Girl before?”
“Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you’re not big into hiking or camping.”
Or maybe it was because I squatted and hovered and hoped to God whatever was tickling my bare fanny wasn’t a snake or poisonous leaf whenever I peed in the woods. Like a normal girl.
Jodi appeared to be hurt by my reaction to her gift. I hated hurting her feelings, and besides, it’d been really sweet and considerate to think of me, so I took it gingerly from her hands and said, “Gracias,” with all the sincerity I could manage.
I had no idea where she thought I was supposed to stash the thing whenever I wasn’t using it. Tape it to my thigh or something? I already had a faux penis in my man panties. How many fake cocks did one pretend dude need?
My roommate did pose a good question, though. How the hell was I supposed to use the public restrooms when I was out and about with the band? All I could hope for was a pooping stall in the men’s room at Forbidden.
Twenty-four hours later, it was time to find out. Once again, decked out as “Sticks,” I left the Go Girl at home and drove to the address Asher had texted me. It’d been months—back in early summer, or maybe late spring—when I’d last been here. But it looked familiar, so I parked and hiked across the street to the entrance.
The sign said they didn’t open for half an hour and the open light wasn’t lit up, but a doorman was already hanging out just inside the front doors, so I tapped on the glass to get his attention.
He turned to frown at me, so I motioned for him to open up. When I refused to give up on hand signaling, he finally cracked the door and stuck his head out.
“We’re not open yet.”
“Yeah, I know, sorry to bother you, but…I’m in the band.” When he just stared at me as if he had no clue what I was saying, I carefully added, “You know…Non-Castrato. They’re supposed to play tonight, and…I’m in the band.” God, it felt awesome saying that. “I need to get in and set up my drum set before we play.”
“ID?” He held out his hand with a bored glance.
“Uh…okay.” Reminding myself I owed Jodi big time for th
e fake driver’s license and wallet, I fumbled in my back pocket and finally yanked the crisp, new billfold free. When I showed it to him, I bit my lip, hoping he didn’t notice the big, glaring F in the gender box.
He barely glanced at the piece of plastic before flipping it back to me and studying a clipboard in his hand. “You’re not on the list.”
For a brief moment, my heart seized. The band had already rejected me, and my big chance to perform before an audience was over before it had even started. I opened my mouth, but it took a second for words to come. “Oh…yeah. I’m new. Just joined this week.”
Dude didn’t seem to care. And all he seemed to know how to say was, “You’re not on the list.”
Anger, fear, and worry slithered through me. I decided to let the anger take front and center. I’d come this far; I refused to give up now. “Look. I need in there so I can prepare for our show that we’re getting paid to provide your customers.” Wait, were we getting paid? I hadn’t even asked, and honestly it’d been the last thought on my mind. Didn’t matter. The point was, “I have to get to the stage and—”
“You’re not—”
“On the list!” I boomed. “Yes, so you’ve said. Repeatedly. But I swear to you, I’m not pulling your leg. Can’t you just grab one of the other band members to come out here and vouch for me?”
“Are you going to be a problem?”
I gritted my teeth. “Not if you let me in already.”
When he left the doorway and took a menacing step outside toward me, I gulped and backed away from him, suddenly remembering he saw another guy when he looked at me. He probably had no qualms about getting physical and roughing me up.
Oh hell, I didn’t want to get the shit kicked out of me the first week I was a dude.
The door behind him reopened. “Everything okay out here, Grim?”
I peered around the hulking figure in front of me to see another gigantic guy in the doorway, except this one was drop-dead gorgeous and didn’t seem nearly as menacing as Grim—Dios, what a good name for him.
“I’m with the band,” I rushed to tell the hottie before the asshole in front of me could send him away. “I need in so I can help set up before we open tonight.”
“Oh, are you the new drummer?”
“Yes!” I sent him a thank-you gesture before glaring at Grim for still blocking my path.
“Hang on a second. I’ll get Asher.”
He disappeared, the door reclosing behind him so I was once again left with the moody doorman who’d crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stand guard in front of the club’s entrance.
“He’s going to get Asher,” I couldn’t help but taunt with a smug little smile.
Grim grunted in reply.
Seconds later, Asher popped his head out. When he saw me, surprise lit his face. “Oh, hey. You’re early. Come on in.” When he opened the door wider, the guy still looming in my path refused to budge, so Asher said, “Grim, man. It’s cool. He’s with the band. Sorry, I thought I’d put him on the list.”
“There’s no Remy Curran on the list,” Grim told him.
“Remy…?” Asher blinked, confused, before his eyes lit with understanding. “Oh, right. Yeah.” He motioned to me. “I never got your real name, so I just put you down as Sticks.” Then he nudged Grim aside. “Could you be so kind as to write Remy Curran next to the name Sticks? He can come in.”
Grim didn’t look too happy about it, but he nodded and reluctantly stepped aside.
Asher waved me forward, and I was finally admitted into Forbidden. I was so tempted to stick my tongue out and send good ol’ Grim a raspberry, but I refrained, because raspberries probably weren’t very manly…or mature.
“Sorry about that,” Asher told me as he led me toward the stage. “Grim’s ex-military. He doesn’t stray from the rules. Ever. If Harper had been working the door tonight, he wouldn’t have given you such a hard time. Still…you surprised me. None of the other band members show up until after we open.”
That made me frown. “What about setting everything up?”
“Oh. I usually take care of that.”
I blinked. “Every week? By yourself?”
“Yep.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal while he bounded up onto the stage. “But since you’re here, I’ll let you take care of the drum set.”
“Sure.” Hopping up behind him, I had to pause to glance around in awe, trying to imagine what the place would look like in an hour. I’d been up here once before, singing karaoke, but this felt totally different. Excitement thrummed through me.
I was going to play here…tonight! On the drums.
“So, your real name’s Remy?”
I jumped at the question and glanced Asher’s way where he was kneeling next to an amp and plugging in guitar cords. When my gaze connected with his curious green one, a tickle in my stomach made all my girly parts tweak to life. “Um…yeah.”
Wow, look at me, with my awesome extensive vocabulary around the pretty boy. If I didn’t check myself soon, I’d be drooling on him next.
He grinned, and sure enough, I had to swallow some drool. “But you’d rather go by Sticks?”
I shrugged. “Whatever.” Telling myself to say more words, I lamely added, “Either works.”
His chuckle made my hormones whimper. I tried to ignore him and prepare my area, but everything already appeared to be pretty much in order. All I had to do was lower my stool and hi-hat, move the pedals a tad bit closer, readjust the snare-drum and shift the toms an inch. So I found myself hovering around Asher, asking him if he needed me to do anything else, while around us, down on the ground floor, other bar workers milled about, preparing the club for opening.
“Umm…” He bit his bottom lip as he glanced around the stage. “Actually, I think we’re good to go. I’m usually the only one who comes in to prepare so I get here pretty early, but if you want to make a habit of it, I can show you the storage closet where we keep everything and how the sound system works.”
I tried not to watch how his lip popped free of his teeth, but it was so freaking sexy, I had to clear my throat before saying, “Sure. That’d be cool.”
I had to move closer to him to better see all the features he pointed out, and man, the guy even smelled amazing. Not fair.
Inhaling deeply, I went lightheaded from the amount of times I breathed him in. Then he sneezed, and por Dios, even that was adorably sexy.
When Asher paused in his demonstration and I said, “This is a pretty sweet setup,” my voice went higher than usual, making it sound extra feminine.
I usually had a slightly hoarse, raspier sound to my vocal chords and people over the phone had often confused me for a guy. But right then, I didn’t sound like one at all. Snapping a worried glanced to my right, I was relieved when Asher didn’t seem to notice.
He grinned proudly and said, “Thanks.”
I was too busy stewing over my worries; it took me a moment to realize what he was saying. Finally, I shook my head. “Wait. You just said thanks as if you set this up?”
When he nodded, still grinning out his pride, I returned my attention to the panel of knobs and buttons with new awe. “Impressive. And here, I thought it belonged to the club.”
“Oh, it does.” I glanced at him, frowning my confusion, so he explained. “When Pick—the club’s owner—hired me on, he let me have free reign to install any kind of stage and sound system I wanted. So…I did.”
I shook my head, even more lost. “You…work here?” Did that mean I worked here too? Shit, was I going to have to turn in legal forms, like social security numbers and such?
It was one thing to fib for one night to get to play drums, but lying to the government—yeesh. What had I gotten myself into?
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a long story. I came in one day, trying to beg a night for us to play, but he only needed a bartender. So…we made a deal. I work bar on the nights we don’t play, and he pretty much let me build up anything to
do with music in this place that I wanted. He gives me two hundred for Fridays, which…I split up between us four members and pay you guys out with cash.” He paused to send me an apologetic wince. “Sorry, fifty bucks isn’t much, but…”
“Hey, it’s more than I ever got for playing before,” I said, relieved I was getting cash and thrilled I was getting any money.
Asher laughed. “Yeah, that was kind of my mindset when we began too.” Clapping me on the back of my shoulder and scaring the crap out of me when he slightly jostled my foam chest out of place, he grinned big. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine, Sticks.”
I momentarily forgot that I needed to readjust my fake chest back into place. But really, when Asher Hart smiled at me with such approval, life was freaking perfect.
This was going to be a night I’d never forget.
“Good evening, Ellamore. Welcome to Forbidden!”
Asher’s greeting into the microphone had a ton of screaming fans—mostly women—rushing the stage, arms waving wildly. I grinned from my safe little stool behind the drum set as Asher had to skip another two steps in reverse to keep grabby girl hands from reaching him.
His nervous laugh echoed through the speaker system right before he said, “It’s nice to see all you ladies too, but let’s get to some music, shall we?”
The women began to chant something that sounded like “If I Knew,” which wasn’t the title of any song Non-Castrato played. I frowned in confusion, wondering what the heck they were talking about.
Asher glanced back at us, mouthing “‘Counting Stars,’” and then he went and lifted his eyebrows my way, giving me a thumbs-up sign.
I wasn’t nervous, didn’t usually have a problem in front of crowds. And with my mask on, there wasn’t even a twitch of performance anxiety. I guess my subconscious knew that if I flubbed anything up, it’d be fine because no one knew it was really me. But the second Asher sent me that little thumbs-up of approval and support, silently letting me know I’d do fine, a little hitch in my heartbeat sent everything inside me haywire.