The music could be heard from just over a block away. Randy, the lead guitar player, initially found the warehouse months ago and approached the manager to rent space for the alternative metal band he was in.
It was located in the warehouse district of town, well away from any residences so they could play to their hearts' content without needing to worry about noise complaints.
Randy tore into the lead and Jason, when he was not singing lead vocals, covered with his rhythm playing. Damien covered the bottom end with his bass playing and added background vocals to the mix.
Dwayne held it all together with his drumming, and adding a bit of background vocals as well from time to time.
Dwayne stopped drumming and sighed heavily.
"No, no, no, Randy," he said, "remember how you played that lick last week? Play it like that and I can bring us all in after the 4th bar."
Randy looked up with a raised eyebrow,"Seriously? You liked that?"
"Hell yeah, dude!" Dwayne grinned, "those were some pretty killer licks you played here last week. We should definitely incorporate them into the final mix."
Dwayne checked the faces of Jason and Damien, finding agreeable looks on each.
"Hell yeah!" Jason chimed in and Damien nodded silently.
They repeated the same song another two times before they moved onto another tune, playing it a total of three times in a row.
Damien initially wasn't a big fan of the constant practising, but he did it just the same with every bit of seriousness as he put into all his other musical projects in the past. This one was a little different though. He had only picked up the bass guitar a little over a year previous, and really didn't feel too confident about his playing but all the other guys encouraged him constantly.
His background vocals initially got him into the band in the first place but he never felt his guitar playing held up to the material they wanted to do.
But Damien had a background in other instruments over his lifetime, among them he learned to play tuba in high school. He reasoned that as the bass used the same clef as the tuba and was laid out similar to a normal guitar then he should have little trouble adapting to the bass.
He was right. He took to the bass as if he was designed to play it from the beginning.
He liked being in a band. It helped to give him hope for the future. It also broke the monotony that playing guitar on the street could get like.
He had spent 4 years playing guitar on the street and had been playing guitar for 10 years now. He didn't play fancy like so many people he knew. He considered himself as a vocalist first and used the guitar to complement his singing.
The guys in the band hung around for another 30 minutes after turning the amps and other gear off for the day.
They considered it their winding down time.
Damien opted out early this time though, he had to make some cash and the street was calling his name.
“Hey there Damien, you hitting the strip tonight?” Randy asked grabbing his coat.
“Yeah, I'm short on rent again this month. I'm going to have to make up the difference real quick too. I have just short of a week to build up another thirty bucks for rent,” Damien smiled weakly, “Hey guys, I'm going to leave my bass here until tomorrow. “
“Sure not a problem dude,” Randy nodded, “It will be safe here.”
Damien nodded with a smile. He knew it would be okay. They regularly stored all their stage gear in the warehouse space and Randy even got it all insured just in case.
Damien slipped on his own black leather jacket and denim vest, lifted his hard shell acoustic case and headed out the door.
“Hey, you need a ride?” Dwayne asked Damien.
“Nah, I got a bus pass, I'm good. The buses take me right down there anyways, but hey thanks for the offer.”
Damien took off on foot towards the nearest city bus stop. He checked the sky. No signs of rain. That's good.
He stopped at the bus stop, joining an oriental couple already there.
The oriental couple bantered back and forth in Chinese. Damien checked his watch. He had timed it pretty well. The bus would be there within a few minutes. If he had come out any later he would have had to wait an extra 20 minutes for the next bus.
No, he wasn't very big on waiting for things, especially buses.
Minutes later he was on the bus headed to the downtown core. It was a place he referred to as his old stomping grounds. He had become a bit of a landmark there over the past four years.
He treated his job as a street musician as a normal job, complete with long hours, and various set lists to guide him along.
Yes, he had spent almost every single day of his existence for over four years down there and everyone in the neighbourhood knew him.
He loved that feeling. No, he was no high paid rock star by any definition but he considered himself as successful because he got to do something he loved for a living.
The other guys in the band had their hopes pinned on an upcoming battle of the bands contest next month. They were all excited about it.
He wasn't expecting much from it but it was an opportunity for the band to be seen and heard out in public, and what was a band if they were never heard?
Damien liked being in a band but it was all for naught if you spent all your time in practice and never actually hit the stage. He loved the stage, whether it was a raised dais or just a spot in a doorway on the street.
He loved performing. It was his way to express all the pent up emotions that guys were not supposed to show. Compassion, hope and tenderness were such things that guys were not even supposed to have but he had his own emotion portal that he made good use of.
The bus made the wide turn onto the street where the downtown core clustered around a long row of movie theatres, restaurants and night clubs. Damien's stop was coming up soon. He readied himself for the upcoming night, and rang the bell to signal the bus driver to stop at the next bus stop.
Damien looked up and down the street as he stepped off the city bus carefully guiding the hardshell acoustic guitar case through the passengers also exiting the bus.
He had a classic metal head look to him. His hair was a dark chestnut colour and he wore it long enough to drape over his shoulders. His unshaven face had a gaunt look as if he had not eaten for days.
His standard fair for the streets included a black leather jacket with jean jacket vest over top, a black teeshirt with the logo of Black Sabbath upon it. The rest was just a basic pair of straight leg blue jeans and a pair of black kung-fu shoes.
A few doors to the left was the old jewellery shop; now empty and up for lease. To the right and down the block a ways was the front entrance to the Orpheum with it's natural echo chamber in the front doorway.
The first location would be better for coin flow as it was right in the middle of the block but the Orpheum had those fantastic acoustics to play off of and Damien was addicted to the sound.
He shrugged, he could easier get into the mood for playing with a good sound.
He turned right and headed towards the Orpheum with a determined smile.
The weather was a comfortable 21 degrees, with a slight overcast and a gentle breeze coming in from the west. The best part was it was still the early part of the month so people were in a good mood.
This was good for two reasons. Happy, positive people meant he'd have a good time performing and that often lead to a more generous crowd, or so he hoped.
He set down the guitar case in front of the Orpheum as he had done uncounted times before, pulled out his acoustic guitar, strapped it on and deftly produced a guitar pick from his right pocket.
He looked up and saw that he was not alone. Officer Ron Sparks stood in front of Damien.
“Hey there Sparky, what can I do you for today?” he asked the police officer, “Care to hear a tune? You name it.”
“Well Mr. Leone, my friends down here keep telling me that you have been dealing out of the guitar case these days. I hope that isn't true because if I find anything on you when you have your guitar out then I just might have to confiscate your axe as well as bust you,” the police officer warned.
“Ah come on Sparky, you know me better than that,” Damien smiled, “I'm playing for chump change today, dude. I'll be lucky to afford bus fare home tonight unless I get lucky today.”
“I'll believe you this time but trust me when I say, I'll be watching you,” he warned.
“Aww that's really sweet of you, Sparky!” Damien joked, “Always a pleasure knowing I have an audience, even if it is an audience of one!”
Damien smirked as Officer Sparks turned down the street. As Damien turned around he noticed the smile of a young Tracey Uxbridge (aka “Trace”) passing by headed up towards the bus shelter he just left.
Trace was one of his regular and dedicated clients. Every so often the regular street people in the area would drop some money into his case in appreciation and some would request songs, which he did the best he could to fulfill.
Trace was a pretty 17 year old girl of a slight yet muscular build with chocolate brown hair cut into a pixie haircut.
She was dressed in her usual uniform. She was fond of the sleek dancer look with a touch of heavy metal punk influence.
Her jacket was black leather, and tailored to enhance her dancer's frame and was worn over usually a pink teeshirt that had random tears in it (to give it a punk rock look) all topped off with a pair of black tights. Her favourite footwear tended to be a pair of black suede short boots.
Yes, Trace definitely cute enough to be able to literally cash in on her looks in various rather unsavoury street professions, but her choice fell into the realm of small time cannabis sales.
She smiled at him as she walked by and cheered him on enthusiastically, “Woo Hoo! Rock and Roll!”
Damien returned a grin and set his gear down. He opened his guitar case so it faced the street and took up his place behind it.
He took in a few minutes to gather a feel for the street, reaching for that little spark of inspiration.
He put the guitar strap over his shoulder, grabbed a pick and began to tune up and as he did so, he ran through his repertoire in his head, looking for something that he could open up with.
He liked to draw the attention of the crowd subtly. He'd start off with a soft, easy song that pulled on the heart strings. Then he pulled them in with his own renditions of the classics.
Damien enjoyed performing here. It had a good sound and afforded him an excellent vantage point on the street. He could see almost a block in either direction.
His initial enthusiasm would carry him only for a few hours on end. Although the numbers of people were there, things were slow to build up.
People came and went into the numerous movie theatres nearby. Just as the 9 o'clock people started to gather Damien spied a disturbance coming his way from way up the block.
From this vantage point Damien often witnessed foot chases between many local minor league drug dealers running from the local police. He squinted his eyes in a vain attempt to see what was coming his way and if he could cash in on the happening.
He watched as a man in a dark suit came into view running down the block. He slowed at the bus shelter and ducked inside.
Then, just as suddenly a younger man in a tee shirt and jeans darted out of the same bus shelter, coming around the back to the entrance to a book store.
From there he saw Trace suddenly run out of the book store and sprint toward Damien's direction.
In all of the 7 months time that Damien had known of Trace, he had never seen such a look of crazed desperation as what he witnessed on Trace's face that day.
Trace quickly closed in him and was showing absolutely no signs of slowing down in the least.
In a desperate move to save his precious instrument, he quickly released the guitar strap and set the guitar down.
Damien had only just straightened up when Trace collided with him tossing him to the ground far and clear of his guitar and case. Damien lost consciousness for a moment just after Trace collided with him..
His next memory came in a dark haze. He had been lightly tossed aside as a male form got up from beside him and started to run down the street.
“Now where in hell did he come from?” he wondered as he sat up and looked around. His saw little more than a mass of hazy images. He rubbed his eyes.
His sight cleared up momentarily but not before the male shape had at least gained 10 feet of distance from Damien, and as his sight focused in, the male shape had just glanced over his shoulder to look back at Damien.
What he saw caused Damien's head to spin. For a moment he felt dizzy and his legs threatened to give way beneath him.
The face that had looked back at him was his own. The male shape that was running away from him was Damien's own body! All Damien could do was sit there in shock and stare at it getting away.
“How the hell could I be sitting here if that's my body?” he wondered as his body turned the corner vanishing from sight with a small group of darkly clad men in hot pursuit.
He blanked stared as the last of at least six men disappeared around the corner and out of sight.
“This is totally not my day,” he said aloud as he picked himself up.
He paused and put a hand to his throat in response to the strangely familiar voice he spoke with. It was not his voice in the least, no not by a long shot.
This voice was distinctively feminine and one he had just heard minutes ago.
He recognized it but could not place it. It was then that he realized his clothes felt very different.
He became aware that his pants were far too tight on him, totally unlike what he was wearing, then there was the jacket. Where was his own leather jacket and jean vest? This wasn't the jacket he was wearing.
He glanced down at it and froze. The jacket was of a very feminine cut and under it was a pink tee shirt with a few holes torn into it and beneath that he could feel something else.
He opened the jacket and found a pair of perky B cup breasts pushing out behind the thin pink tee shirt fabric.
“Oh my god!” he exclaimed aloud, gasping at the elevated tonality in his voice.
He began to form an idea of who that voice belonged to, now that he had seen the teeshirt and jacket, not to mention the shape of breasts beneath.
A quick glance past the fleshy twin peaks confirmed his suspicions. His legs were clad in black tights and his tiny feet were wearing a pair of black suede short boots.
He sat on the sidewalk for a few moments totally taken back by all the events over the past few minutes when he was suddenly picked up by a single man on each arm who proceeded to carry him away leaving his guitar and everything else behind.
He kicked and thrashed about savagely but the tiny body he was in made no headway in his attempt to escape. He was hopelessly out powered by these two men in dark suits, at least for the moment.
He was pushed into a white windowless van that had few rows of seats, many populated with confused people of various types and ages. He started at the sight of them for a moment then he realized that both men had released their grip on him.
He smiled, spying an opening just to the left of the nearest man and tensed up.
Within a half second he launched himself through the opening and found himself free.
He made a quick glance towards his music gear but two more men were at work cleaning them up. He shrugged inwardly; he had his freedom, but if he was to keep it he would need to give up on his guitar gear. A half second later he took off running down the street headed for the nearby corner and turned left then left again into the nearby alley. He knew these streets like the back of his hand. Well maybe not like the back of his hand now but suffice it to say he had an intimate knowledge of the area.
As he darted into the alleyway, he looked towards the corner he had just came around, spying the two men he just escaped had been joined by two others and they were also in hot pursuit.
He had to lose these people somehow and fast, the body he was in, although being quite healthy, was still a lot shorter in stature than he was used to.
He spotted a narrow passage between two buildings that lead out to the next street over, slipped into it and from there turned right and sped as fast as he could into the multilevel parking lot on the opposite side of the street.
Once in the parking lot he went up the stairwell, making as much noise as he could, to assure that his pursuers would chase him up there. Then at the 3rd floor he hooked back behind the steps and crouched down underneath desperately trying to hush his laboured breathing as he listened to all four of the men in dark suits run off into the 3rd level parking lot.
Damien smiled after they had gone out of hearing range and darted back down the steps as quietly as he could.
Upon returning to the street level he headed directly for a line of abandoned, boarded up buildings not too far from his location.
He had known of these buildings for quite some time, having had to use them a few times in the past as emergency housing when he was homeless not a long time previous. Right now that would be the perfect place to go to hide and try to collect himself.
Damien was almost out of breath by the time he cleared the 2 blocks, constantly dodging vehicles and pedestrians along the way. He had no idea who those people were in the dark suits but he definitely didn't want to have anything to do with them. He already had enough problems with the body he was in.
He scanned the old hotel with his eyes, searching for an entrance that would be easy to get to. He wasn't too sure just how agile this body was and he was sure that he could feel it's pain if he pushed it too hard.
He spied a piece of plywood that had been wrenched open some time ago by some homeless nocturnal visitors. Smiling to himself he squeezed through the space and soon found himself alone, relatively safe in the livingroom of an abandoned main floor apartment.
There was dust everywhere as well as a few odds and ends tossed about in the building. On the longest wall of the livingroom was a rather long patch of graffiti art.
He recognized some of the names painted on there and smiled.
This place had definitely seen more than one small friendly nocturnal gathering.
He was alone. The events of the past half hour suddenly began to sink in.
He ran through it all in brief in his head.
There was the runners. A couple of them and for some odd reason Trace joined these runners.
Trace literally ran Damien over and thus knocking him completely off his feet.
Then Damien gets up, sees his own body running away and discovers he's now in Trace's body.
To make things more confusing, just after Damien realizes he's in a female body, some people in dark suits attempt to abduct him.
This sets him in terrified flight mode, forced to leave his precious guitar behind to save his own life.
Which all wraps up with him alone in the livingroom of an abandoned building.
He looked down at himself, this time taking in the moment now that he had an opportunity to collect his thoughts.
Any typical man would check out the boobs first and Damien was no different. He took a guilty peek down his own top at the two small fleshy mounds.
He recalled her voice, Trace's voice responded with ever word he spoke.
He looked up and cocked his ear, “Hello, I am Damien, or rather I used to be. Now I'm Trace.”
“Holy shit, it's exactly like her,” he said aloud, “Hmm that definitely was not very lady like, but then again I am pretty new at all this girl stuff.”
He ran his hands down his sides sliding down to the hips, “Wow, this really does feel,” he paused then continues, “ very different!”
His thoughts naturally centred for a moment on his groin area. He shook his head, and tried to put any thoughts of that area of his body right out of his head. Or was it really her head?
He growled, which despite his intentions actually ended up sounding more cute than menacing at all.
In any case, He intended upon holding off on discovering the groin later on and only if he had to.
He decided to take inventory of what he had on him.
Trace never carried a purse but instead she wore a waist pouch. It was far easier for her to deal with and it freed up her hands.
Damien unzipped the waist pouch around his waist and looked inside.
There was lipstick, a black eyeliner pencil, 4 tampons, 2 light pads, birth certificate, and other related identification. There was also eleven dollars and 35 cents, zig zag rolling papers, a fingernail clipper with nail file, a small brush and mini bic lighter.
“So I have ID anyways. Not that it will do any good if those assholes are still looking for me, but I am pretty well broke.” Trace's voice said.
“I'm going to have to try a disguise,” he said aloud, “this should be really interesting as I've never had to disguise a girl before!”
He walked into the bathroom. There was no running water in the building so the bathroom was not usable at all, save for the fact that it did have mirrored shower doors in the bathroom and they were in perfect shape, save for a light layer of dust.
He stood there in the bathroom just staring at his reflection.
“Yes, it definitely is going to take a while to get used to this,” Trace's voice pondered aloud, “of course I suppose it could have been worse. At least I kind of know her; I just wish we had mixed and mingled a bit more before this.”
He turned his back to the mirrors and looked over his shoulder with an amused smile, “It's not fair, I have this ass now and I can't see it very well at all!”
He sighed as he got serious. Trace was known for her pixie-punk look. Damien would have to totally abandon anything in that region if he wanted to be able to hide Trace's face from public scrutiny.
All he had to do was put on normal clothes and maybe get a wig until her hair grew in a bit more.
In his mind's eye he tried to picture Trace wearing something as simple as a pencil skirt with a classy top. Trace would never been seen in simple “peasant clothing” as she termed it. Such outfits were so totally devoid of taste for her.
Damien had never seen Trace with anything on but her normal pixie-punk tight outfits and she had always had that short hair. He'd never seen her in any other manner.
His mind's eye furnished him an image that caused him to feel a sort of twisted self pride.
The image he had in mind was one where Trace had shoulder length hair and the addition of other styles and adding colours to Trace's wardrobe would change how he looked so much that even the original Tracy Uxbridge wouldn't recognize.
Right now though he had very few options available to him. His apartment keys left with his body as well as everything he owned. Even if he could access his apartment, it would be a wasted effort as he owned nothing that would even remotely fit the tiny frame he had now.
No matter what he decided to do, it couldn't happen until after dark. He could always move around freely and safely at night and has for years and he was quite sure that he could pilot Trace's life through it as well.
By the time that dusk had set and Damien suddenly realized that he had no idea what size of clothes Trace wore. That was going to be a problem that he had to solve quickly. He desperately wanted to try to get Trace's face to disappear.
Damien went back into the bathroom utilizing the last dying embers of light in the building.
“Hmm. Maybe I can start with something simple,” Trace's voice announced.
Damien Took off Trace's leather jacket and looked at the mirror critically.
“Hmm, If I comb my hair with a slight part.” he mumbled as he adjusted Trace's hair.
“I definitely need to reduce makeup use and change the style.” he smiled.
I could at least get a good start like this, but I will need some new stuff real fast,” he sighed
Damien looked around the apartment. Trace's leather jacket was expensive and he didn't think it would be right if he just tossed it away. No, he could find a safe place to stash it away and return for it later. But where?
After searching the room for almost a half hour he discovered a few loose floorboards near the corner of the room. There was just enough room beneath to hide the jacket safely.
He pulled an old pile of boxes over the floor boards to disguise his stash spot and turned to the window. By peeking out a small crack he could see outside.
The sun had set and darkness had fallen, which afforded him a bit of cover. He had to get out and soon.
He had been hiding in the abandoned building now for just over three hours and hunger was beginning to make it's presence known. He had to go for it.
He slipped out past the plywood and stepped into the night.
He had to replace Trace's signature waist pouch too. Sure a lot of people wore them but it was a major part of Trace's look and Damien didn't want to be recognized as Trace at all. He needed someone to help him out, but who did Trace and Damien have in common that they both knew?
Damien checked the town clock far overhead. It was just past seven pm, there was a Value Village just down the street a few blocks and there was just over eleven dollars at hand. It wasn't much but it was a start.
He took off at a quick walk, not too slow nor nothing so fast as to attract unusual attention. He kept it at a decent pace and was soon turning into the store.
Internally Damien cringed. He was out in public as a girl. Within him his very manhood screamed in terror.
He glanced down at himself for a moment, taking in what he had to deal with and started to make his plans when he felt someone tapping on his shoulder.
He turned around to find Shadoe, an old friend of Damien's smiling at her, “Hey Trace, what brings you here?”
Shadoe was a small built girl, native North American and very pretty. She had a style all of her own though. Everything she owned was black, all her clothes even her hair was naturally black
Damien's mind went into hi speed.
“What the hell? Shadoe recognizes me? She knows Trace?” he wondered silently as he assessed the situation.
“Oh well,” he started, “I got nervous with all the guys in those dark suits running around.”
“Oh yeah they were grabbing people left, right and centre! Basically, if you ran, they nailed you.” Shadoe replied, “and they did get a few of us. I saw you toke off just after Damien took off like that. I never saw that coming though. Damien would never just leave his guitar like that. Something was definitely wrong,”
Shadoe continued, “Apparently you did get away though. Damien didn't, but when I saw them grab him, it was like he had gone insane! He was babbling in what sounded like Chinese!”
Damien felt his eyes begin to tear up, “What? They got Damien?”
“Oh yeah and trust me he didn't go quietly either. I've never seen him so violent before. That was definitely not the guy I've known for the past 4 years now. No, not at all. So how did you get away?”
Damien smiled and recounted his encounter with the dark suits. Shadoe laughed at how Damien eluded them by doubling back.
“Where did you ever learn a trick like that from?” Shadoe laughed.
“Oh, well,” Damien replied as coyly as he could, “I suppose I watch a little tv every so often. I thought it would come in handy dodging guys. You know.”
He winked at Shadoe and they both giggled.
“Anyways,” he continued, “I came here because I want to be able to disappear for a while. Those dark suits will more than likely still be looking for me, so I need to disappear. And in this case, fashion is my friend.”
“Not in your case kiddo!” Shadoe laughed, “you have a style all your own!”
Damien smiled, “look who's talking!”
“Well big sister is here to help you. We can get a few little things here but I have an entire second bedroom in my apartment that I devote to clothes,” Shadoe beamed while obviously eyeing Damien up and down, “and we're about the same size. I'm a little bigger up top but we can work around that. It's no biggie.”
“Hey,” Damien smirked, “don't get personal!”
They both broke into giggles once again.
They spent a few hours both trying on clothes and Damien getting 3 tops and Shadoe kicked in an extra twenty dollars to get a few skirts and pants for Damien.
“You'll need to totally remove yourself from who you used to be and that means wearing things you've never considered before,” Shadoe told Damien, “Now take the money, you can always pay me back whenever you can.”
Damien looked at the pile of clothes, then back at Shadoe for a moment, then, in a burst of pure emotion, Damien hugged Shadoe tightly, “You have no idea what this means to me. I really needed this help. As of today I really can't go back to who I used to be.”
“Wow, how true can you get?” Damien smirked inwardly.
He couldn't allow any suspicion to fall upon him. If word got out that a certain Tracey Uxbridge was acting unusual those assholes in the dark suits would be back.
He would have to start thinking, acting and actually being Trace. No, not Trace as the dark suits were looking for her. He would have to become Tracey Lynn Uxbridge.
“Wait,” he wondered suddenly, “how the hell did I know her middle name?”
“Oh heck I can't remember,” Tracey replied honestly, “Why, do I...?”
She paused indicating her right armpit.
“Oh no, it's nothing like that, I just thought if you wanted to, you could feel free to grab a shower. I live alone so no one will bother us,” Shadow explained.
Tracey looked down at herself once again. No matter how many times she looked down at herself did it ever get any easier. It was always a shock to her eyes.
But the offer of a shower was far too enticing. The late afternoon turned into a never ending nightmare complete with foot races and Tracey needed to remove the emotional weight of the day.
“Or you could have a bath instead,” Shadow offered, “just relax and unwind a bit. I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up and maybe we can burn one after you get out.”
Tracey looked around the apartment. This was definitely not something she'd expect from anyone that was on the street, but then again it had been a few years since she'd met Shadow. Many things could have changed since then.
“This place is fantastic! You must be doing really well down on the strip,” Tracey commented.
“Oh yeah, I do pretty good with the gramming down there. I have about a half dozen middlers going everyday for me but I have other pursuits as well. I mean we all have our sugar daddies right?”
Tracey smiled and agreed, “Oh yes but some are not so affluent.”
“Oh well mine come from a higher ranking in the social order,” Shadow smiled slightly, “and I always keep a few on the line for emergencies.”
“Anyway, you go take your bath and help yourself to the oils and bath bombs. Pamper yourself! I'm sure it's been a while since you've had such opportunities,” Shadow replied as she turned toward the kitchen.
Tracey stepped into the bathroom. It was huge. There was enough room within it to put an entirety of a local hotel room within it and still have room for more.
The bathtub was a reissue of the classic clawfoot tubs of the early twentieth century.
As she was checking out the room she heard Shadow approach the door. Shadow tapped on the door then entered with a white terry cloth robe over her arm, “You can change into this after your bath. You can toss out your underwear too. I have a few things you can have.”
She looked at Tracey and smiled apologetically, “but I'm afraid I have no bras in your size though.”
Tracey blushed slightly, “Well admittedly I am not wearing one at all. I guess I really don't need one consider my size and all.”
“Well I didn't want to be the one to say it like that, but you're right. Back when I was B cup I didn't bother with a bra at all. You are so lucky that way,” Shadow said.
“Okay thanks,” Tracey replied as she turned on the bath water.
“I'll leave you to it then,” Shadow said then slipped out of the bathroom, softly closing the door behind her.
Tracey was still appalled. In all the years she had spent on the streets, she had never seen anyone with such a home. Even her own family didn't have such things.
She looked down at herself and sighed. It was just a matter of time before she was going to have to become acquainted with Tracey's body and the time was nigh.
She pulled off the pink teeshirt, now slightly soiled from squeezing out of the abandoned building, freeing up the girls.
Seeing them like this was a totally new experience.
As Damien, she had only ever seen boobs from the third person point of view. This was a very new and very different situation.
They stood out firm in their conviction to be the harbingers of female identity.
She ran shaky hands over them, avoiding touching the nipples entirely. She wasn't sure what to expect from them and didn't really want to find out too soon.
Then there was all that sort of stuff below. Was she really ready to go there?
As Damien, she would have loved to see Trace this way but this was more intensive than she ever expected.
She could feel what was down there. She was aware of everything, from the tips of her toes and on upwards.
“Shit, what's the difference?” she said aloud to herself testing the water in the tub and shutting off the flow, “I can feel it anyways, and I do need a bath. Hmm. What about those bath bombs?”
She looked around and found a series of clear glass containers on a shelf. One had oil beads of varying colours, another had bath bombs and still others contained various powders and articles she couldn't readily identify.
She grabbed one red oil bead and one red bath bomb and dropped them in the water, watching with interest as the bath bomb bubbled and fizzled in the water.
It only took a few minutes before it stopped and by then the water had also gained from the effects of the red bath bead, which was cherry scented by the smell of it.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Trace announced to herself as she slipped out of the black tights, discovering a pair of matching black underwear beneath. She stepped out of them without looking at her nether regions.
She was putting it off. Surely she would have to give in and look.
“Come on, you are just being silly,” she told herself aloud, “it's just a matter of time before you have to deal with it and that is eventually going to be far more intimate than just disrobing!”
She took a deep breath and took a tentative look down.
“Holy crap, I can barely even see it at all!” she commented.
Tracey was a girl who was into personal landscaping though. She had maintained a specific look to her parts. Damien had always referred to such things as 'a relocated Hitler moustache'.
She smiled at the irony, as she gingerly stepped into the soothing hot waters.
Shadoe's voice sounded from behind the bathroom door, shattering Tracey's quiet solitude. She realized that she had fallen asleep, such was the relaxing effect of the bath.
“Hey! Are you still alive in there?” she called, “It's been almost an hour and I was getting worried out here!”
Tracey stirred, suddenly aware that the bath waters had grown colder, “Oh I'm sorry, I got so relaxed that I must have drifted off, I'll be right out. Sorry about that!”
Tracey stepped out of the bath, no longer worried about any of her new body parts, unplugged the stopper and reached for the white robe Shadoe left behind.
She had barely had time to put it on her shoulders when Shadoe opened the door. In reflex Tracey rushed to get her arms in and her front covered up.
Shadoe chuckled, “Seriously girl, you don't really think you have anything I haven't seen before?”
Tracey felt herself blush and responded, “Oh yeah, sorry. It's just my reflexes.”
She tied up the robe by the sash and followed Shadoe out the door.
As she entered the livingroom she heard music from a local rock radio station and could smell cinnamon and apple in the air.
“I heated up some apple pie added some whip cream and poured a couple glasses of wine for us”, Shadoe smiled proudly, “I thought maybe I could entice you out.”
Tracey smiled in response, “you sure know the way to my heart!”
“Oh I've known that for a while now girl!” Shadoe laughed, “Apples and cinnamon, Trace's kryptonite.”
“I appreciate it, but do me a favour,” Tracey replied, “After today's events I'm not so sure that I can ever use my street name Trace anymore. So much has happened that I think that I should leave that behind as well. Just call me by my real name, Tracey.”
“Okay, Tracey it is then,” Shadoe smiled, “So obviously you didn't get the nickname from any artistic endeavours?”
Tracey chuckled, “oh no, I can barely draw a conclusion never mind being able to draw anything on paper!”
“Cute saying, I've got to remember that one,” Shadoe answered picking up a freshly rolled joint, “Now lets sit down for some pie and wine! I have dessert all ready!”
“Hey wait a minute,” Tracey asked, “Isn't the pie the dessert?”
“Not in this case, babe!” Shadoe laughed.
“You seem to be pretty shaken up over all that shit downtown today, what for?”
Shadoe asked after she cleared off the two dessert plates from the table.
“Oh well I've never been one for chases. I'm definitely not the person everyone seems to think I am.”
“Oh trust me, girl, no one is,” Shadoe said, “I mean you didn't expect this kind of place from a street chick like me, did you?”
“Was it that obvious?” Tracey asked feeling a bit nervous.
“Oh hell, I'd have thought the same way too if I were you,” she replied.
If I were you. Those words stuck out in Tracey's mind.
“If you only knew,” she thought.
“Well, after we smoke this joint we can go into my closet and you can pick whatever you want!” Shadoe smiled, “but first, the inspiration!”
She pulled out a bic lighter and lit up.
Ten minutes later they stood at the door to Shadoe's 'closet'.
Shadoe grinned as she paused to open the door, “Well, hold on to your panties girl, for here they be dragons!”
Trace smiled, “I can't, I don't have any on!”
Shadoe giggled, “Yeah well we can fix that in here too!”
Shadoe opened the door to reveal a rather large bedroom that was stocked with numerous portable clothing racks as well as three dressers and two portable wardrobes.
Despite Shadoe's reputation for wearing all black all the time, there was a virtual rainbow of colour all around.
“Oh my god!” Tracey whistled, “I haven't seen stores with this amount of stock!”
“And all our size!” Shadoe beamed proudly, “well minus the boob size and even that isn't a major issue really. So anyway, we need to give you a whole new look and I do believe we have most of the gear to do it here too!”
“I don't know, this pixie haircut might be an issue,” Tracey sighed, “unless you have a wig or two somewhere in all this.”
“Well no, I don't have any wigs, but I have a lot of hair stuff, including extensions!” Shadoe told her.
“Well I don't suppose you have them in my hair colour?” Tracey flicked her hair for emphasis.
“Of course not!” Shadoe replied, “but you could use a hair colour change anyways, and I happen to have some black hair dye in the bathroom!”
Tracey pondered the idea for a moment.
She needed to hide. The dark suits would be looking for a punk girl with short brown hair in pink and black so she couldn't look like that and a hair colour change could only help her out.
Besides which she wasn't a big fan of short hair. As Damien, she always thought Trace was cute with her look but now that she literally wore her shoes, she really didn't want it short.
“Well, it's definitely a good idea,” Tracey admitted as both girls casually started looking through the multiple racks of clothes.
“Hell, everyone has been doing the hair colour thing anyways, I'm kind of surprised you haven't, being a punker and all.”
“Well not all punks go for the coloured hair look,” Tracey replied then added, “besides which, I'm not really a punk, not really; I'm much more of a rocker. The punk look just got thrust upon me.”
“There's nothing quite like telling the absolute truth without directly saying anything,” Tracey thought.
“Okay so we start with the hair, then we can come back here and create your new look, okay?”
Tracey had to admit she did feel a little excited at the idea of a complete makeover, although didn't she just get something like that when she was forced into Tracey's body in the first place?
“Hell yeah, let's do this!” Tracey exclaimed, “you've always had the best fashion sense ever since I met you!”
“Oh well honey,” Shadoe replied with a cautious tone, “That really hasn't been that long now. I mean I first met you with Damien just about 6 months ago. I admit that at first glance I thought you might have been his girlfriend.”
“Damien's girlfriend?” Tracey half-gasped, “Oh no, trust me, that could never happen. Damien was just a friend. Someone I met when I came downtown.”
“Well, don't worry about it,” Shadoe smiled, “I'll admit I thought about him a few times that way but never thought we could work out around what I do and his music. He always seems to have his head buried in music.”
“Oh well, I suppose that is really all he has,” Tracey responded, “I mean he always seems so lonely out there. Sometimes he's there for hours and hours barely making a thing but he keeps plodding onward. He was part of a band project although after today, I don't think that will ever come of anything.”
“Yeah, he really didn't seem at all interested in music or even English that last time I saw him, handcuffed and shoved into a van,” Shadoe recalled.
Tracey felt a chill go up her spine. She suspected that she may well never see the face of Damien ever again. She knew that she should have been feeling bad about that, even angry but she just felt a little sadness.
Shadoe led her into the kitchen where she already had a chair set up and all the hair colour materials ready at hand.
Tracey looked at the layout and raised an eyebrow, “I see you are all ready for this?”
Shadoe smiled, “Yeah, I knew all along you'd go for it. This is going to be so much fun. It's like having a full sized fashion doll at my disposal.”
Tracey looked down at herself and sighed, “It's too bad about the boobs though.”
“Oh hell girl, you are still young!” Shadoe replied, “they'll get bigger in time, I know a lot of girls from high school that were still B cups in grade nine, a few short years later they graduated with D cups! Your time will come, don't worry about it.”
Tracey had a small battle of feelings with those thoughts. The part of her that was still Damien wanted to return to what he had always known, but the new, emerging part desperately wanted those bigger boobs.
She shook her head.
“What?” Shadoe asked as she motioned Tracey to the chair.
“Oh,” Tracey smiled weakly, “just trying to picture me with a rack like yours. Kind of hard to picture at this point.”
“Oh trust me, I've only had these puppies since I was twelve and I'm twenty-two now. I've only been a D cup since I was about your age, so I'm still not entirely used to them,” Shadoe smiled, “so anyways let's get this started.”
Shadoe mixed the dye together and Tracey put the protective cape on her shoulders.
“So exactly why is it you have black hair dye anyways?” Tracey asked, “Your hair doesn't look like it's ever been dyed.”
Shadoe laughed, “Oh no, it's not for me. Hell no, my hair is all natural! I got this for a friend that was going to go underground about a month ago but she ended up leaving town instead. That left me with black hair dye on my shelf. It's just lucky you came along and needed it. Otherwise I'd eventually have to toss it out.”
An hour and a half later Tracey's hair had been rinsed and dried and Shadoe went to work on attaching the extensions.
“You are totally not going to recognize yourself when we are done,” Shadoe said proudly, “and trust me, longer hair really does suit you and this colour is a knock out!”
“How much do you want for the extensions?” Tracey asked, “I'm not sure when or how but I promise I'll pay you back for all this help. You've been like a big sister to me.”
“Ah, don't worry about it kid,” Shadoe laughed, “You broke up an otherwise boring evening. I needed a break besides, helping you out in your time of need is a good way to seed my karma.”
“Seed your karma?” Tracey asked.
“Yeah, you know, whatever comes around, goes around?” she explained, “By doing people favours like this, I seed my karma for good to come back to me.”
“Wow, I've never thought of it like that!” Tracey replied, “I can't wait to see the end results.”
“Well I'm almost done your hair, but,” Shadoe paused, “We need to do your makeup to complete the look, Then we can grab you some clothes and I have a few ideas about that too. In fact I pulled a few outfits out for you while you were rinsing off the dye. They're on my bed.”
“Wow, hair, makeup and clothes,” Tracey said aloud, “are you sure you can afford all this?”
Shadoe responded by waving a hand, “Pfft! Don't worry your pretty little head about it girl. I can always get more. Clothes, I have no shortage of. The hair extensions, I actually get from a friend of mine who hand makes them for dirt cheap. And makeup? Please. I get that free all that time! Remember, sugar daddies?”
Tracey nodded, in which Shadoe slapped her head lightly, “hold still bitch, you don't want me to fuck this up!”
Then came the makeup.
Shadoe had an astounding amount of makeup. The case she brought out reminded Tracey of an old mechanics' toolbox that Damien used to have years ago.
There were numerous shades of everything from foundations, eye shadows, blushes and lipsticks galore.
Shadoe held up numerous shades of foundation to Tracey's face, finally finding one she could use.
“Do me a favour and tell me what you are doing and why as you do it?” Tracey asked.
“Are you serious?” Shadoe asked.
Tracey thought quickly, “Hey, I only ever learned one way and never used foundation or eyeshadow. In fact all I've ever used as mascara and eyeliner.”
“Oh well okay then, that makes sense,” Shadoe replied, “that would explain the one look you've had since I met you.”
Shadoe took her time, all the time explaining what she was doing to Tracey.
Forty minutes later Shadoe brought out a small pile of clothes. The top was a classy dark crimson coloured off the shoulder model. The panties were black and high hip cut.
For covering the lower half a pencil skirt that hugged Tracey's curves quite well was the answer. Between the panties and the skirt were a pair of textured black tights. The boots were not unlike Tracey's own boots but were in better condition and had a few metallic rings to highlight the design.
Shadoe led Tracey into her bedroom and faced her towards the closet door.
“Okay now, are you ready for this?” Shadoe enticed Tracey.
She then opened the closet doors that displayed a double wide full length mirror.
“Holy shit, I totally don't recognize her at all!” Tracey exclaimed.
“Excuse me?” Shadoe asked.
“Trust me when I say, that image in the mirror,” Tracey responded, “I have never seen her nor anyone remotely like her ever!
Tracey could just stare in disbelief at the mirror's image.
“How the hell could that possibly be me?” she asked aloud, “she's fucking gorgeous!”
“Hell, dressed like this you could definitely some pretty stiff opposition for me!” Shadoe exclaimed with obvious pride.
Tracey gave Shadoe a sidelong glance, “Opposition? Me? Just what the heck do you do on the side anyways?”
“I told you, I have a few sugar daddies. They phone me, ask me out on dates, buy me stuff, pay for my rent etcetera,” Shadoe explained.
“Shit, you're a hooker?” Tracey turned to her in shock.
“Oh no, it's nothing like that at all,” Shadoe defended, “I don't do anything sexual in the least. Every once in a while the occasion will call for a kiss or a hug but nothing more personal than that. It's called escorting. All you do is be a companion. But it's not always men. Every so often the client can be female. But like I said, I'm just a companion for the lonely and affluent.”
“I'm not sure I could do that,” Tracey replied suddenly remembering that this morning she started out as a male street musician.
“You have the looks,” Shadoe smiled, “With just a little bit of guidance I could set you up and in a few months you could be living like this!”
Shadoe motioned at the apartment around her.
Tracey was shocked on a few levels. As Damien, she had known Shadoe for four years but had never been to her home. Sure every so often Damien would walk Shadoe home late at night but had never accepted any invitations inside.
Damien had a few initial interests in Shadoe back when he first met her but over the years Shadoe became as a sister to him. He never suspected that Shadoe was doing anything more than selling grams of marijuana on the streets.
This new revelation did explain how Shadoe could afford the leather habit she had. Damien had seen her in all sorts of black leather outfits since meeting her.
She had jackets, vests, numerous different leather pants, shorts and skirts as well as some custom leather wristbands and a few collars – all in black leather.
Trace looked down at herself, then back up at the mirror. The image she saw there depicted a very pretty young lady with a look of astonishment on her face.
She watched her image as she spoke, “I really appreciate the compliment. I mean, I have never, and I mean ever thought of myself as pretty enough to be any kind of escort. I'm going to need some time to soak this in.”
“Not a problem. You can stay here as long as you need. Just clean up after yourself and if I have a client, then I'll need the place to myself,” Shadoe offered, “as you are now, no one will recognize you, well as long as you stay away from your usual habits. The best way to disappear is to be absolutely nothing at all like your normal self.”
Trace smiled wistfully. She had never known any version of Tracey save for pixie-punk persona she brought to the street. The image in the mirror was definitely not the same girl and Tracey began to feel guilty that the only version of Trace there was now was nothing like the original Trace ever was.
Trace was pretty, but Tracey was gorgeous. She also felt guilty for that. It took Damien's spirit and Shadoe's instincts to make this new look. She was sure that Trace would never even try to change just to hide.
Hiding was not part of who Trace was. She stuck out in the crowd and was proud of it. She was known on the street as a party hardy girl.
As Tracey looked in the mirror though there was no since of any party hardy girl. Here was a girl that could have any man anywhere, even Damien himself would have fallen prey to her charms.
“How the hell can I be that girl?” Tracey said aloud as she moved with Shadoe toward the door, “She is so very different than who I was.”
Shadoe smiled as she closed the closet bedroom door, “So no more rowdy chick? I can't believe that clothes alone could possibly effect that much of a change.”
“Oh trust me, I haven't felt like myself all night. At least now I can begin to relax,” Tracey replied.
“Speaking of relaxing,” Shadoe smiled as she pulled a pre-rolled joint from her cleavage as well as a bic lighter, “time to continue our journey to cloud nine point five.”
“Nine point five?” Tracey asked blankly.
“Yeah, nine point five,” Shadoe giggled, “Why stop at just cloud nine?”
“A very good point!” Tracey giggled as she pointed at Shadoe.
“Anyway,” Shadoe announced as she put out the second joint, “you can either bunk up with me or sleep here on the couch! The couch folds out to a double bed, or as I said before, you can join me on my bed, which is a mega-huge king size.”
Tracey smiled, “I'll bet you look so tiny in that huge thing!”
Shadoe smiled defiantly, “well that's it, you are so not sleeping on the couch! You are sleeping with me!”
Tracey's heart skipped a beat. It did not matter, of course what Tracey looked like, she was still a male street musician inside. The idea of sleeping with Shadoe got the interest from Tracey's only slightly submerged male mind.
The effect upon her made Tracey very grateful that she didn't have male parts at the moment. However there was still an unusual stirring of some sort within her.
They sat there and whittled away the rest of the night watching the movie Ghost with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore.
Later on just as the credits started to scroll down the screen Shadoe looked beside her and started giggling at Tracey.
“What?” Tracey asked defensively.
“You are such a pussy! Crying at at movie!” she laughed harder.
“Don't try to tell me that you didn't find that last part the most beautiful thing you've ever seen on film?” Tracey responded.
“Yeah yeah, I know, but this is you we are talking about! Man you really are nothing like who you are on the street! And I thought I was bad for that! Kudos! You are so relaxed and calmer; I never saw that coming. But hey if you can act like this out there,” Shadoe pointed out the window, “then you will be able to disappear for as long as you want! Just don't break character!”
“Oh trust me after today I am definitely not the same person as I was yesterday!” Tracey said with a forced smile, “I couldn't be that person again if I tried.”
Shadoe's attention was suddenly pulled away by a chirping sound from her cell phone. She got up and started moving toward her bedroom.
“well, hey remember how I told you I'd need the place for a while alone?” Shadoe asked as she looked at her phone, “Well I need tomorrow evening at seven pm to nine pm, so you will need to test out your new look. I highly suggest you totally avoid the downtown area completely. Try out Hamburger Mary's there is a good sized crowd to check out for you. It's not too lame and right up your normal alley.”
“That's tomorrow evening?” Tracey confirmed.
“Yup,” Shadoe replied, “anyway, I think I'll head off to bed now. You can come along now or watch TV for a while longer. Your choice,” Shadoe opened the bedroom door and pulled off her teeshirt and dropped her pants as she walked in, “Just a warning. I don't wear anything in bed.”
Shadoe disappeared into the bedroom. Tracey still looked on at the empty doorway when Shadoe added from out of sight, “And by that I mean I wear absolutely nothing, so be forewarned!”
Tracey felt that odd rush again. It wasn't a bad feeling but she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. There was something about it that carried a strange sense of dread and pleasure of some sort.
Tracey wasn't sure what to do. A lifetime of mental training to be a gentleman told her that she could not sleep with Shadoe. Male friends just never did things like that, not the honourable types anyways.
“But then again,” Tracey thought as she reconsidered the offer, “I am also a girl now, what could happen?”
She shrugged to herself and followed Shadoe in.
Shadoe had dropped her panties and tossed her bra aside and was just sitting on the side of the bed naked, wearing only a smile, “no entry with clothes though these are satin sheets girl!”
“Oh well, when in Rome,” Tracey replied as she proceeded to take off her clothes for bed.
Tracey woke up to the sounds of the local rock radio station and Shadoe singing along with Pat Benatar in the kitchen. Tracey's sense of smell told her that breakfast was being prepared.
The combined aromas of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee beckoned for her to wake up.
For a moment she found herself disoriented but then she remembered the previous day, “Oh yeah, still female,” she said quietly to herself as she sat up.
“Oh yeah and naked as a jaybird.” she said as she got out of bed and looked for a robe or something to cover herself up.
“You awake there, Trace?” Shadoe called in, then corrected, “I mean Tracey. Sorry.”
Tracey smiled now feeling slightly amused at her situation.
She looked towards the door and spied something white hanging on a hanger on the back of the door. She walked over and found it was a robe. Of sorts.
It was short, and only covered her down to just past the hips, and made of a sheer white fabric.
She reached out for it Thinking it was better a little coverage than none at all.
She looked around curiously, “Yeah, I'm awake and don't worry about it, I can't expect people to alter from the name they knew me by to Tracey,” Tracey replied barely wrapping up her nakedness and walked out into the kitchen.
“Wow, you look sexy as hell in that!” Shadoe smiled and winked as she flipped the bacon onto a plate with a paper towel on it.
“Where are my clothes at?” Tracey asked.
“Oh, I put them in your room,” she smiled.
“My room?!” Tracey gasped. “you're not serious?”
“Well for a while anyways,” I used to have a friend named Bunny that lived with me. She moved in with her new boyfriend and has her new life now, hence the empty room. It's furnished and now comes complete with your own clothes!”
“So why did I sleep naked with you last night then?” Tracey asked suspiciously.
“Ha ha!” Shadoe laughed, “Yeah I can understand how you could be feeling a bit weirded out here but I had to remove a bunch of Bunny's old stuff she left behind before you could use it. Still you have to admit it, sleeping on that giant bed of mine is far better than dealing with the couch. We actually were about three feet apart for most of the night.”
Tracey felt the tension leave her. Damien was still within her and he jumped at the very mention or insinuation of almost anything remotely sexual. Even possessing a female body she still clung to her male moralities.
“Oh okay,” Tracey smiled, “Is the coffee ready?”
“Definitely, “ Shadoe poured a mug, “the cream is in the fridge and the sugar on the counter just beside the fridge.”
Tracey mixed her coffee and looked into the livingroom. There were a few boxes on the couch and leaning against the wall was a black hardshell guitar case.
As a musician, Tracey's attentions had been stirred.
“If I can get back into music maybe this new life will be easier to deal with,” Tracey pondered to herself.
She checked the fingertips on her left hand and sighed, “There is definitely going to be a few tears shed before I can use these tiny hands very well. It'll be like learning all over again!”
Tracey took a sip of her coffee as Shadoe sat down at the table with her noticing Tracey's line of interests.
“Yeah that used to be Bunny's old guitar. She bought it when she was going out with a musician back when she first moved here. She wanted to be able to share his musical life but he ended screwing around on her. She left the guitar behind because she didn't want the memories,” Shadoe said.
“Really, some guys sure can be assholes,” Tracey responded still entranced by the guitar case.
“I didn't know you played guitar Tracey,” Shadoe replied.
“Well, I know only a little bit but I have been considering learning some day,” Tracey responded, “Could I look at it?”
“Sure, help yourself! It's just gathering dust here.” Shadoe said.
Tracey had to stop herself from running over to the case to open it up. Her professional curiosity was just that overwhelming.
She opened the case and found a rather serviceable Yamaha acoustic. It wasn't an overly expensive guitar as far as acoustic guitars went. It was a quality guitar for people on a budget and it was the perfect size for Tracey's smaller hands.
She pulled it out and forced her fingers to try a few chords. It was a forced sound, quite typical of a newbie. Despite having all the musical knowledge that Damien had amassed over the years, Tracey's body had never done it so it had to be taught.
On the plus side most of what she had to learn was just strictly physically based.
“Tell you what,” Shadoe smiled, “If you can get $30 you can have the guitar, case and everything!”
Tracey's heart jumped. Her reaction was to run over and give Shadoe a hug of appreciation!
“Wow, you really know how to show appreciation!” Shadoe smiled and hugged back, “Maybe when those assholes release Damien you can talk him into teaching you.”
“I don't know about that,” Tracey sat down once again with her coffee, “I have this awful feeling neither of us will ever see him again.”
“Aww don't talk like that, girlfriend,” Shadoe consoled her, “I'm sure he's okay. I mean he's been a fixture on the street for as long as I've known him and I doubt very much on this earth can keep him away.”
“Well you might be right there,” Tracey smiled weakly.
Tracey really did want to go back down to the strip but she was still a wanted person, she couldn't be seen anywhere near there nor any place remotely related to the street people.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Tracey said after finishing her coffee, “You have that date tonight? Do you have any suggestions on where I could go?”
“Well do you like rollerskating?” Shadoe asked.
“Hell yeah, but...” Tracey stopped for a moment and pondered.
Did Tracey even know how to rollerskate at all?” Tracey knew from her own experience that it wouldn't be too hard to learn but she was going to be there alone and would have no one at all to support her if she fell.
“I suppose it's been a while since I tried to skate at all,” Tracey replied, “but it does sound like fun!”
“I can set you up with a guy to go with you if you want,” Shadoe offered.
“Oh no, that's okay,” Tracey almost panicked at the thought of dealing with a guy right now. She barely knew who she was, never mind having to deal with meeting someone else on a personal level, and there is nothing impersonal about a date, and that was what Shadoe was insinuating.
“I need some time so mull about. You know, see how I far out there on my own with this new look,” Tracey smiled as sweetly as she could, “It could be fun.”
“You are definitely different, girl,” Shadoe grinned.
Tracey poured herself another cup of coffee and replied as she mixed it, “Trust me, I'm far more different than you may suspect!”
Tracey spent the day setting up her room and attempting to introduce the fine art of guitar playing to a body that had never done it before. After a mere 20 minutes she had to put the guitar down because the steel strings hurt so much.
“Still, no pain no gain as the weight lifters say,” Tracey said to herself.
She put the guitar down after 20 minutes, allowed her fingers to recuperate for a half hour or so, and picked it up again to practise another 20 minutes before the pain would influence her to stop again.
She did this on and off for most of the afternoon until around 4pm when she entered the livingroom where Shadoe had just finished a minor clean up.
“Hey, I was thinking of taking a shower and getting ready to go out for rollerskating tonight,” Tracey announced.
“Sure, not a problem. The master bedroom, mine, has a bathroom of it's own,”
Shadoe said, “After you finish your shower I'd do your makeup again. This time we will have the mirror in front of you. I'll go through all the techniques and wheres and what-fors again so you can reproduce it without my help. A girl should be able to do her own face after all.”
“Here, hold on for a second,” Shadoe disappeared into her bedroom and returned momentarily. She stepped behind Tracey and gathered up her hair, extensions and all up and clipped them up and out of the way.
“There you go,” Shadoe patted Tracey on the back, “That hair clip will keep your hair up while you shower. It would make life easier if you didn't get the extensions wet today, it would take far too much time and effort fix.”
“Oh. Why thank you!” Tracey reached up and gingerly felt the clip and smiled.
“Oh and after we're done your face, I'll do a little something with your hair as well. We may as well go all out for tonight. We're going to make you top model material tonight.”
“Well, remember that my aim tonight is entertainment, not to find companionship, so don't make me too irresistible,” Tracey smiled, “after all I have enough to deal with this new life, without adding a gir... err boyfriend to it.”
Shadoe smiled slyly, “oh my god, Tracey, did you just say what I think you said?”
Tracey got worried and backed off a bit, “What? What did I say? What do you mean?”
Shadoe pushed the envelope a bit more, “Did you just say gir, as in girlfriend? Do you like girls?”
For a moment Tracey couldn't think straight. Shadoe had her flustered. Damien had long had a minor crush on Shadoe and now Tracey felt her secrets would be uncovered if she was not careful.
But what was wrong with liking girls anyways? Damien had known a great many women over the years and the majority of them were either bisexual or outright lesbian. It was only natural for Damien to like girls but Tracey was a girl herself and now it was considered as a lesbian interest.
But was it natural for Trace as it was for Tracey? She took a breath and answered honestly without uncovering her other secrets.
“Well, now that you bring it up, yes, I do like women,” Tracey looked down at her feet, “But I have never had lesbian relations.”
It was true, for Damien. Damien was a man and as such could not have a lesbian relationship. Trace on the other hand could have but it was not known for sure if she did. Tracey did know that the interest was there, otherwise she would not have felt nervous being in bed naked with Shadoe. Something had to be there already.
“Don't worry about it girlfriend,” Shadoe gave Tracey a hug, “We don't spend all of our lives on our backs, do we?”
“Oh umm, no we don't of course,” Tracey replied.
Shadoe stepped back to admire her work and smiled, “Girl, you are such a fox! I don't doubt you'll find someone to chat to over the course of the evening.”
Tracey looked at the image in the mirror, “You really can do wonders! But I don't know, I'm almost afraid to go out like this. Oh and I am definitely not looking for someone to spend the night with, so I should be back later tonight. I don't trust very many people very easily.”
“Who does? It's the first rule of the street,” Shadoe smiled, “Trust no one except yourself and even then only with caution. But anyways, if you can't come back for some reason or another tonight you can use this phone. My number is programmed into it. I had this cell phone set up when Bunny lived here and it's on a family plan. Bunny didn't have much use for it after she met her current boyfriend. He bought her an iphone complete with calling plan.”
“So why did you keep it around? I mean Bunny got her own phone,” Tracey asked accepting the phone from Shadoe.
“As I said, it's on a plan. I can't opt out for another 5 months yet,” Shadoe replied, “So consider it an extra bonus! Oh and you can put it and all your other stuff, in this purse. You can keep the purse. We need to keep you away from who you used to be and let's face it kid, you were really notorious for having that waist pouch of yours.”
Shadoe handed Tracey a black suede purse with leather fringes. Tracey smiled, “Nice design. It looks expensive! Are you sure you want to part with this?”
Shadoe scoffed, “Pfft! I'm Native; I have family that churns this stuff out regularly.”
Tracey smiled, “Wow, really nice work and thank you.”
“The best thing is that it's black and black, as we both know, goes with everything!” Shadoe smiled.
Shadoe looked at the clock and took in a deep breath.
“Well, my friend will be here in about a half hour,” Shadoe smiled, “Inside the purse you'll find a bit of fun money and a five bus tickets. Don't bring any identification with you. That is a bad habit that you newbies do all the time. Especially if you happen to be on the run. Stash your ID in your room somewhere and leave it there for now. I'll give you the makeup we used as well a few extra brushes. Put that in your purse as well so you can do touch ups over the evening. It probably won't be necessary but your never know. It's better to be safe than sorry.”
Tracey smiled and hugged Shadoe tightly, “You really are a very good friend. I can't imagine what would have happened if I didn't run into you yesterday.”
“Now you run and get dressed,” Shadoe replied with a smile, “try that outfit we had you in last night. That really looked good on you.”
“Hey what if I fall on the rollerskates?” Tracey asked.
“Well put on a pair of those black tights instead of the fishnets,” Shadoe replied, “that should help to conceal anything that shouldn't be displayed in public. I put a few pairs in with your clothes.”
“Now run along, my friend will be here in just about a half hour,” Shadoe said playfully slapping Tracey's butt as she passed by.
Tracey looked out over the city from Shadoe's apartment balcony. The view of the city from the twenty-third floor with the mountains in the background was spectacular. The balcony had become her favourite spot, that is when it was not raining, which was a rarity for the area.
She sat down on one of the two the wicker lawn chairs and lit up a joint. It was her only retreat from all the craziness of the recent past.
Over the past two weeks she was unceremoniously uprooted from her old life as a thirty-four year old male street musician and dumped into the body of a seventeen year old female acquaintance that she barely knew.
Then she was saved from capture by a group of mysterious people in dark suits by a mutual female friend who had a safe place in which she was allowed to stay so she could hide out from the aggressive pursuers in dark suits and learn how to start a new life.
Then came five days of menstruation; an experience that, as a man, she had previously been totally free of. Now however things had changed rather drastically and this was going to be a fact of life for her every month for the next thirty or forty years.
Her only real comfort was the guitar. Within it she could hold all her pains, fears, loves and happiness and in playing it, helped her to release these emotions in a way that she was more attuned to
She was still painfully working on making callouses on the tips of her fingers on her left hand. Her finger coordination was improving on the fretboard and she was pleasantly surprised with her new singing voice.
As Damien, she had rather decent vocal range from the lows of Long John Baldry to the highs of David Bowie, but now her range was incredible!
As a vocalist she was ecstatic over learning her new range. Although she did lose a small portion of her low end, the gained almost a full octave on the high end. She could sing notes now that Damien could only fantasize about and the tone of Tracey's voice was phenomenal. She could sound like Pat Benatar, Joan Jett, Lita Ford, and as high as Joni Mitchell. This refuelled her love for music performance so she practised as much as she could without bothering Shadoe or the neighbours.
In the past few weeks though, Shadoe had Tracey leave the apartment six times and Tracey was running out of places to go that she hadn't been before. It was becoming a bit stressful for Tracey to have to create things to do by herself for anywhere from two hours to four depending upon the client.
During the first week, Tracey tried not to think about what was going on in her absence. She didn't need to know nor did she want to know. The idea of sex scared her.
It had taken her first menses to realize just how real this experience was. Her male life died in screaming agony with every cramp and every tear. The reality was, if she was ever going to have a sex life again it would definitely be as a woman.
She found her taste in music had shifted subtly too. Damien was the type of guy who never danced and often claimed he couldn't dance, so listening to dance music just didn't happen.
Tracey's natural likes of music included dance music and with her build it should have been no surprise. Tracey's style of clothing in the past thinly disguised a very trim and lithe dancer's build.
It was also in Trace's nature to dance. It was part of who she was, and now it was also part of who Tracey was. She didn't lose her like of the music that Damien liked however she did gain a liking for what Trace preferred.
This, of course also influenced Tracey's relearning of guitar. There were new techniques that she learned that Damien never knew.
There had been so many different things happening to Tracey over the past two weeks that it was easy to forget that her life was anything different from what it was.
Tracey was going through it all essentially, alone. Yes she had the constant company and help from Shadoe but Tracey could never mention to her precisely who she truly was. She wasn't quite sure just how she could convince Shadoe about it in any case.
In fact, there had been an increasing amount of days where Tracey woke up and started her day almost unaware of her past life. She generally snapped out of it anywhere from twelve noon to two o'clock in the afternoon. When this happened she tended to suffer from minor anxiety attacks.
She normally had to suffer these attacks alone, but today she was going to risk going for a leisurely walk to get the tensions out.
Maybe it was cabin fever combined with the identity questions but it did feel liberating to get out.
Tracey had settled in to who she was but was starting to feel restless. Re-learning the guitar did take up a lot of her time but she was feeling the pull of social life that all teenagers experience sooner or later.
Tracey felt very confident that she was never known in the neighbourhood that Shadoe lived in. She didn't know at all when she first moved there but now she felt sure of it.
She avoided the highly populated streets and kept her walk leisurely and confident. This was how Trace fooled the world that she had an abundance of confidence when she was actually more reserved in nature.
Tracey had developed a few habits of Trace's. They were subtle in nature; they ranged between personality traits, speech patterns and even subconscious body language.
One of them was Trace's tendency to stick out in the crowd.
Tracey felt an exhilaration she had never felt before, there was an ethereal happiness in her soul. Why she didn't know but she felt good.
As she walked along her walk changed to a happy skipping. The freedom of the streets were beckoning to her once again.
Tracey rounded a corner and spied a small outdoor farmer's market. She smiled as she headed towards the enticing sights, smells and sounds.
Tracey halted abruptly, spying something out of the corner of her eye that gave her a sense of foreboding.
Parked just a few metres from the entrance to the farmer's market were 2 identical black SUVs. Each had an identical dark tint to the windows.
Tracey's joyous skip vanished. She stood there for a moment, her long ingrained street senses perked up into action.
Her eyes scanned the crowds warily. Two dark identical SUVs parked side by side at this point only meant one thing to her.
She inspected each person with her gaze and finally found what she was fearful of seeing.
There were two people in dark suits watching her some distance away within the confines of the market.
“Okay now, “ she told herself, “play it cool. You've run from the cops more than a few times over the years. How bad can these jerk offs be?”
“To turn back now would only invite a chase,” Tracey reasoned so she continued onward her eyes scanning both sides of the street for any hidden options.
She strolled up to a sidewalk that led to the side of low level apartment building and just as she left sight of the street she started to run diagonally across the various lots, lithely leaping over the few fences in between.
Upon reaching the street she slowed only long enough to get her bearings.
As Damien, she had often walked the streets very late at night when he was homeless, looking for places to sleep. As a result of these wanderings he had come to know the back alleys and side streets a lot better than most.
There was no way she would risk going directly back to Shadoe's building though. No, there was no safety in bring these jerks to her very door.
Tracey checked around her and saw the front end of an SUV just coming into her view. They turned in her direction and started toward her.
Smiling, Tracey drew upon Damien's instincts and ran for the nearest alleyway.
The west end of town had an alleyway behind each and every structure and Damien knew all of them. She ran halfway down one, then cut across to the street, crossed the street and headed into the alley next block over by way of a sidewalk that led around a building to the alleyway behind. She repeated this trick numerous times until she had overshot her destination by a few blocks.
There she ducked into a back doorway and hid beneath the back steps of a local rooming house.
She crouched there for what felt like forever before she had regained her strength and felt that the coast was clear.
She had only two blocks to go to reach safety.
Tracey cautiously took a deep breath and came out of her hiding hole.
Tracey crept out cautiously. This chase game had become much too stressful. She had enough to deal with just with the change of body issue, never mind having to dodge these assholes in the dark suits.
“Peek a boo!” a male voice said from behind her causing Tracey to physically jump and scream.
“Oh shit, I don't believe I did that!” Tracey stated dryly then turned around to see a man with long dirty blond hair standing idly by the door. He was trim in build with a noticeably heavier build in his upper torso, and Tracey knew him on sight although she had to play dumb.
“Hiya, the name is Dwayne, and you look like you could use a break,” He smiled, “you can relax a bit here if you want. It's cool.”
Tracey desperately tried to hide a smile. The man smiling at her was her own drummer from the band she used to be in before all this weird body swap crap raised it's ugly head.
“But that was another life,” she thought to herself.
“Hi, the name's Trac...” she paused, wondering if it was smart to use her current name with a stranger.
“Cool. Trace; I like it!” Dwayne smiled, “A lovely name for such a work of art!”
Tracey was going to argue for a moment but got swept up for a moment in Dwayne's obvious flattery.
“What the fuck dude?” Tracey thought to herself, “why the hell should his words mean anything more to me now than they ever did before?”
Tracey allowed a giggle to escape.
“Oh well,I'm just going to have to watch that sort of stuff,” she reasoned.
'Well Trace really is a natural short form for my name though, which is Tracey. You know, Trace with a y,” Tracey giggled unconsciously.
““Oh shit, am I actually flirting with Dwayne?! What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought.
Tracey had to remind herself that there was no way at all that Dwayne would recognize who she really was. Her fears were just working overtime.
“Wow, you really are jumpy there, girl,” Dwayne replied thoughtfully, “you gonna be okay there?”
“Oh yeah, I just have issues with people in suits,” she replied after a heavy sigh.
Dwayne laughed, “Yeah I hear ya. They have absolutely no sense of fashion at all! Suits!”
Tracey couldn't help but to laugh. There was something calming about the familiarity of Dwayne's sense of humour that took down all her defences.
Dwayne reached behind the door, “Care for a beer?”
Tracey really needed this. She realized that she had caged herself in Shadoe's apartment over the past few weeks and avoided going out as much as possible.
Today really got her blood flowing there. The fear. The chase and the sudden shock of being discovered all added to her excitement.
Tracey shook her head. “No, don't be thinking like that! The thrill of the chase should be seen as a warning sign, not an enticement! Dammit Trace!”
“Yeah just one though,” she replied, “it is kind of early yet!”
“Early?” Dwayne laughed, “shit it's long past nine am!”
Tracey turned to join Dwayne beside the cooler.
Tracey had just turned when all of a sudden a hand landed lightly upon Tracey's shoulder, causing Tracey's blood to run cold. She let out a high pitched squeak of surprise.
“Holy shit girl, you tense or what?” Shadoe's voice remarked from behind Tracey.
Tracey sighed and tried to ignore the fact she knew she was blushing deeply.
It's the suits again,” Tracey replied feeling her heart begin to slow down once again, “I saw a couple cars at the former's market so I ran.”
Shadoe put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily, “and did you actually see anyone chasing you?”
“Well I did see this SUV driving slowly and then suddenly turn toward me,”
“So no, you saw no one actually chasing you then?” Shadoe smiled, “And this tells you what now? Yeah, we really need to work that tension out of you girl! I think I have a way too.”
Shadoe looked at Dwayne and smiled, “Hey little drummer boy! How ya doin' blondie?”
Dwayne visibly puffed himself up in response to Shadoe's flirtatious remarks. Tracey smiled.
Damien always had thought it funny how Dwayne could always fall prey to the flirtings of a pretty girl. Even if their flirtations were obvious covers for some ulterior motive.
Tracey saw this same man now in a whole new light though. She had caught herself flirting with him (and enjoying it) and enjoyed seeing Shadoe do the same to him.
Shadoe looked at Dwayne and went serious for a moment, “So have you dudes decided on what to do about Damien's disappearance?”
Dwayne looked up in obvious pain, “we all got together and talked it out for hours. We need to move on. I mean, yeah, I'm sure Damien would understand too. We have no idea where the hell he is, or if he can even contact anyone or what is going on. The government has put close on all references to him. It's strange shit happening there.”
Shadoe nodded, “Yeah he definitely didn't go willingly according to eye witnesses.”
“Yeah well now we need to find a new bass player that can learn everything Damien did.
Tracey's ears perked up. She looked at Shadoe inquiringly, “You say you have an idea that will help me? With going out and all?”
“Shit yeah,” Shadoe beamed proudly, “I am sure I can make you look totally different. You only need to co-operate a bit.
“Well I'm in for it,” Tracey smiled then turned to Dwayne.
“Damien and I have been pretty close off street. Everything I know is because of him. I am sure I could fill in for him. However, I don't have any gear at all.”
Trace smiled inwardly. She knew her old bass guitar, cables, pedals and amps were all stored in the practice space. She could rope her old gig.
Dwayne smiled slyly looking Tracey up and down suggestively, “Holy shit! She's sexy and cute, and she plays bass!”
Tracey grinned, “And play guitar and sing multi part harmony as well.”
Dwayne smiled, “Sure, we'll give you a shot at it! Damien was a background singer too so you got the total package! We'll definitely get back to you within the next few days,shit maybe even sooner! You have a number?”
Tracey looked to Shadoe for her silent opinion.
Shadoe gave a subtle nod and a smile.
Tracey pulled out a pen and pad of paper and scribbled the number to the cell phone she used.
“I think we should get right on this social issue of yours PDQ girl,” Shadoe said, “Perhaps we should head back to my place so we can get started?”
Shadoe gave Dwayne a peck on the cheek and Tracey, feeling a bit of peer pressure to follow suit, also gave him a peck on the cheek and they started off for the apartment.
As they walked Tracey's mind was churning. She was excited about retaining her position in the band, albeit as someone else but to retain even just that little bit of her old life helped to make everything else tolerable.
As they walked, Tracey had a thought then looked at Shadoe suspiciously, “Remember I am not doing any escorting. At least not yet. I don't believe that things have gone that way just yet. I'd sooner work on the musical end.”
Shadoe laughed, “Oh hell girl, it's nothing like that. But on that front if you ever want to get into it just ask me, I'll help you any way I can.”
Tracey smiled uneasily. She didn't want to get into boy girl relationships of any kind just yet. Besides which she still had a lot to learn about her new role in life as a teenager.
“I just noticed your roots this morning,” Shadoe replied.
“My roots?” Tracey wondered, “what the hell is she saying? Isn't this Trace's hair colour?”
“Shit girl, even the dye can't cover up your blonde nature!” Shadoe laughed, “shit has it been that long since you've seen your natural hair colour?”
“I'm a blonde...” Tracey said blankly.
Shadoe laughed and slapped Tracey playfully on the back, “and what a blonde! But that should be enough to toss any assholes off your scent! Just go back to your normal hair colour! And hey, we can take a trip to the mountains if your want for a few weeks, Just to get away from the bullshit for a while. You seriously need to chill for a while.”
Shadoe opened the door with her key card and led Tracey through the lobby past the security desk.
The security guard on duty, an older man of his mid fifties greeted them on the way by, “Good afternoon Miss Couldrey and Miss Uxbridge.”
Tracey waited until the elevator door closed, “the security here knows me?”
“Hell yeah, but don't worry about it babe,” Shadoe winked at Tracey, “he's on our side!”
She accented her words with a sultry shifting of the hips which wiggled her butt enticingly.
Tracey looked away. She'd been female now for over two weeks but there was still that over active male ego in the background of her mind. Damien had a crush on Shadoe years ago and it went unseen and inactive. Damien was relegated to close friend status with Shadoe and as such set his relationship with Shadoe at a fixed setting.
But Damien was no more. The last time he saw his body, it was running away from him. That incident did leave a bit of an emotional scar on him but it was not always easy to see now that he was Tracey full time.
Shadoe led them both back into the safety of Shadoe's apartment, locking the deadbolts behind her.
Tracey went straight to the bathroom though. She had to see these roots. All this time she was convinced that chestnut was Trace's actual hair colour, now of course she had to know for sure.
She looked at herself in the mirror up close. It was true. There was just over a quarter of an inch of new growth and it was a sandy blonde colour.
She furrowed her eyebrows and pulled back from the mirror, trying to picture that face as a blonde.
“Holy shit, I'm blonde,” she repeated softly to herself.
“You know you scare me sometimes, kid,” Shadoe remarked from the open door, “Ever since that weirdness downtown a few weeks back you haven't been yourself at all.”
Tracey smiled in spite of herself, “Well it was a bit of a stress show.”
“They did get a few of us though,” Shadoe said solemnly, “at least six people, including you, vanished off the strip, never to be seen again.”
“Including me?” Tracey asked.
“Yeah, I ain't telling no one where you're at. I don't need that type of heat on me,” Shadoe replied defiantly.
“Did they get anyone you know?” Tracey asked.
“Well Gremlin, Mouse and Little Janet are gone for sure,” Shadoe replied, then added with a sad sigh, “as well as Damien and witnesses say he was babbling in Chinese and trying to fight people, which is totally not like Damien at all.”
Tracey reached out to the wall to steady herself. Her knees felt weak. Finally there was confirmation. The body of Damien Leone was in the possession of the mysterious dark suits.
Tracey let out a heavy sigh.
Shadoe moved over to help support her, “Shit girl you gonna be okay? I didn't know you and Damien were that close!”
Tracey perked up a bit for a moment, “Oh yeah, we didn't hang out much together on the strip but he is directly responsible for everything I know in music! But we were just friends, you know. Like jamming buddies.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean, “ Shadoe replied nostalgically, “I had a bit of a crush on him years ago when I first met him. There was something dark and sinister about him that attracted me. But over the years we just stayed as buddies.”
Tracey raised a surprised eyebrow, then remarked, “No boy-girl stuff with you either.”
“Yeah, he's never been one for relationships anyways,” Shadoe said, “Not that I could picture anyways. He's a musician; married only to his music.”
Tracey smiled, “Yeah, you could most certainly say that for sure! “Till death do we part!”
Shadoe smiled, “Okay here's the deal. We put your hair back to it's natural colour again. We have the colour professionally stripped from your hair.”
Tracey ran her fingers through her hair still a bit surprised to learn that Trace dyed her hair at all. She was more bothered that she had not noticed the colour of the roots that had grown in since she became Tracey.
“I just can't picture being blonde anymore I guess,” she suggested.
“Yeah well even I almost forgot had you not slipped up over the past few weeks. You usually keep right on top of the root issues.”
“Yeah I really haven't had my life together recently. It's like I'm grabbing desperately at what everyone has,” Tracey replied.
“Well your audition for the band with Dwayne will give you a direction to go in,” Shadoe replied, “Although I think if they do take you on as the bass player, they might have to change the band name from Doodz, because you'd be screwing that up.”
Tracey smiled, “Well they could always just use the name Dude! Instead. Damien told me that they actually did think of that as a name when they first formed; maybe they'll reconsider it, if I get the gig.”
“think positive girlfriend,” Shadoe grabbed her wallet and stuffed it into her purse, “okay let's hoof it bitch. I can get you in at a friend's hair dressing shop just a few floors down. We can get that hair stripped and set and not have to leave the building. She also sells hair extensions too and she can match the colours perfectly.”
“Oh but that's sure to run you up big time!” Tracey replied.
“Ah shit, what good is having all this at my fingertips if I never get to use it?' Shadoe slapped Tracey's butt as they headed for the apartment door.
Shadoe took them down the 3 floors and knocked. The door flew open wide displaying a short stocky black woman of middle aged years. She had a sparkle in her eyes and a wide smile. She placed a hand upon Tracey's shoulder and gently guided her in, “So you must be Tracey! Shadoe here told me of your problem and I am very sure we have a solution for you. Anyway, my name is Rhonda, and I am very glad to finally meet you.”
Tracey glanced to Shadoe with an inquiring look, “finally?”
Rhonda smiled, “Oh she's been here a few times since you joined us here. But don't you worry your pretty little head; we been friends for years now. Hell I even used to be her baby sitter years ago!”
“Oh okay,” Tracey forced a nervous smile, “it's just that so much has happened over the last while, I guess I have become a bit paranoid in some respects.”
Rhonda turned her attention to Tracey's hair, “Oh yeah I can do it all right and you are lucky. I am sure I have all sorts of extensions in this shade. We are going to make you look fabulous! How long you been dying your hair girl?”
Tracey smiled, “well it's been so long now. But it's been years now.”
Of that Tracey was sure. She didn't quite know how she was sure but she knew that Trace had been dying her hair since the onset of puberty.
If she tried though, she could recall faint images from the back of her mind of seeing the reflection of a young pretty prepubescent girl with long flowing sandy blonde hair.
“Well the procedure is a bit involved,” Rhonda explained as she led Tracey to her shampooing sink and sat her down in the waiting chair, “First we wash the hair; I have a gentle shampoo that's perfect for the job. Then I apply the stripping agent. Many people call it bleach but trust me, girl. It ain't bleach by any stretch of the imagination. It will help to remove the old dyes. Naturally we'll have to add a touch of colour to even things out but trust me, in two hours you are going to be a whole new woman!”
“Yet again,” Tracey thought with a smile.
“So what made you go for the pixie look?” Rhonda asked.
“You know I was wondering that too,” Shadoe added.
“Well to be honest with you both,” Tracey answered with a smile, “I can't remember exactly why. I guess it was just on a whim. And you know me, Shadoe. I do tend toward the whimsical.”
“That's for sure,” Shadoe laughed, “it is nice to see you settling down though. That chase down on the strip must have set your mind on a new path, which is a good thing I should think."
“Well,” Tracey smiled as she sat down and leaned back putting her head in the sink behind her, “I have rather mixed feelings about all that, but I guess a change of life was in the cards for me. Mind you I'd just as soon have it crop up without all the excess dramatics.”
“Well,” Rhonda laughed as she turned on the water, “some people have to have their ass whupped before they listen to reason. Shit, I used to be the same way when I was your age.”
Tracey smiled languishing in Rhonda's gently massaging of her scalp, “So there's hope for me then?”
Rhonda laughed harder, “With any luck girl, with any luck!”
She just stood there, mouth agape stating back at the mirror with a strange mixture of wonder and shame on her face.
The person Tracey saw in her reflection had never existed to her before. Tracey had gotten into a regimen of hair styling and makeup every day for the past two weeks.
Shadoe spurred her on to try new things and develop her obvious talents in cosmetology. But today, with the shampooing, Rhonda also removed Tracey's make up. “It's all according to the plan,” she was told repeatedly.
“As you see, between a very minimal makeup style and employing a hairstyle in your actual natural hair colour, you see a totally new person and the best thing is that this is basically you, without all the bullshit. Take away the fake hair colour, make up and all those overly tight clothes. Yeah girl. I seen ya around the building enough!” Rhonda smiled, “And this, my pretty little one, is my finest hour! Ain't none of those assholes gonna recognize you now.”
“And upkeep is far easier than what you used to deal with before!” Shadoe exclaimed, “Very little makeup and no hair dye and shit. I could learn to love that life!”
Tracey smiled and the blonde angel in the mirror beamed back at her, “Yeah, I did try to teach you but you can't be taught! But yeah simpler is definitely better!”
“If you stay away from what you used to wear all the time and adopt a new style to your wardrobe you should be able to totally re-invent yourself.” Rhonda smiled.
“And I can totally help there too,” Shadoe smiled, “Hell I can easily give away half my wardrobe at home and barely put a dent in it!”
“And there you go girl!” Rhonda put her hands on Tracey's shoulders proudly, “And a star is born!”
Tracey's reflection was blushing very deeply and knowing she was blushing just made the blushing deeper.
“I really can't believe this!” Tracey replied, “I'm blonde! Even up close I don't recognize myself. I'd have never thought of this!”
“Now you need to learn to stop acting like the old Trace, the street girl, and embrace the new Tracey,” Shadoe nodded.
“Well that shouldn't be too hard then I suppose,” Tracey replied, “I definitely don't look like I used to in any way shape or form.”
Inwardly Tracey sighed. “If you two only knew...” she thought.
“I'm afraid that I don't know too much about hair extensions though,” Tracey admitted, “I mean I've been wearing them recently but only because Shadoe puts them in for me. If it were just me, I'd never know how to do it.”
“Well, you got no excuse now. You know where I'm at I'll be glad to show you all the ins and outs.” Rhonda told Tracey as she handed her a business card, “you got my phone number, you come on down tomorrow and I'll help you out with what you need to know.”
“I'd have offered to do it but you have pointed out my technique is an odd one and perhaps I shouldn't be teaching others my mistakes, right?” Shadoe said.
“Wow, you make it sound so altruistic!” Rhonda laughed.
“Yeah I know,” Shadoe giggled and curtsied, “I do have my talents don't I?”
Shadoe stood once more, in front of her 'closet' door, “Okay now remember there will be no such thing as the word no here. We need to get you away from your old styles and onto something totally different.”
Tracey looked on nervously, “I can't imagine where I could possibly go with my clothing tastes.”
“Oh trust me, we have a whole world of possibilities once you open up your mind and learn about what can be done and how,” Shadoe replied as she opened the door and turned on the lights, “to start with, we need to get you into something a bit more feminine and away from this boyish punk thing you had going there.”
“Aww you mean you don't like that?” Tracey smiled, “Geez I thought that was fun too!”
Well kid I know you are going to fight this because I've not seen you wearing anything overtly feminine since you've been here and trust me, you have lots to choose from, so we're here today to adjust that problem. You have got a gorgeous figure there. I simply do not see a need for you to disguise it with boyish clothes all the time!”
“Hey, I do wear tights a lot,” Tracey said in a weak defence.
“Oh come on,” Shadoe laughed openly, “they're merely a cheap attempt to hide your obvious tomboyishness. Trust me, the way you apply tights to your personal style, they are little more than a slightly girlish pair of tight pants! We need to get you into nice tops, skirts and dresses!”
“To be honest with you, I've never worn that sort of stuff!” Tracey replied.
“Well those dark suit asswipes are still looking, then they will be looking for that dark pixie cut skinny chick in the leather jacket, girly teeshirts and tights!” Shadoe pointed out.
“But hey look at me now!” Tracey brushed her hand to her shoulder length blonde hair, “I look nothing like I used to!”
“Oh come on!” Shadoe snapped showing a bit of irritation, “given time they will see past the hair and recognize you because of the clothes. You need to remove all clues that could lead them to you and in this case it means putting a major femming on your pretty ass. I already removed all pants and tights from your room. We're going to get you used to wearing skirts and dresses, and if that means I have to physically dress you then trust me young lady, I will do it!”
Tracey knew she would do it too. No, she would have to put up with all the attention if she was going to come out of this situation.
She wasn't happy about the idea of skirts and dresses but Shadoe was right. Trace had a clothing style that was very tomboy oriented.
Trace's style wasn't butch in the least; sure, there were no jeans and flannel shirts but there was a general absence of skirts, dresses and lace.
Trace never felt comfortable in such clothing. She saw it as giving in to the system.
“Wait... how the hell can I be so sure of that?” she wondered.
Shadoe pulled open a rather wide wardrobe. The contents were rainbow of colourful dresses. She opened the wardrobe next to it and revealed a rainbow of skirts of varying styles and lengths.
“You are going to choose stuff from these two wardrobes and you are going to be wearing them at home and out,” Shadoe pointed out, “I guarantee that we can successfully hide you away if we can change what you normally wear all the time. Hey at this point what harm could yet another change to your life do?”
“Well you do have a point there,” Tracey sighed as she started to go through the various dresses, “My life has been thrown into a blender big time; I'm looking forward to stopping the spinning so I can start getting things rolling and gain some sense of normalcy.”
Tracey desperately tried to keep an open mind. Shadoe and Rhonda were right. If Tracey was going to keep her freedom, she was going to have to change her ways completely.
Sure, the change from being Damien Leone to Tracey Uxbridge was one thing, but Tracey was sure that they were looking for Trace.
Luckily, she didn't really feel an attachment to looking a specific way in Trace's body. She did feel a but of an aversion to skirts and dresses though. To her they were the epitome of femininity.
Still, she had to do it. She knew her life as Damien was gone and Tracey's body was definitely built for the task. it was merely Damien's fading male pride that was in jeopardy.
She looked at herself in the mirror. So much had changed over the past few days. She had just about gotten used to her reflection in the mirror as it was.
Her hair, with extensions was wavy blond and hung down to rest upon to her shoulders. That alone was startlingly different from the pixie cut that Trace was known for.
The outfit was a classic sleeveless formfitting black dress that went down to mid thigh. Black panty hose covered her legs and a pair of crimson leather ankle boots with a matching three inch wide belt around her waist highlighted her shape.
Shadoe had taught Tracey a few different methods of makeup application but the look chosen for Tracey, was a natural look. It wasn't heavy but just enough to highlight Tracey's features.
“Wow,” Shadoe remarked from behind, “You really don't look anything at all like the little street imp named Trace that I knew just a few short weeks ago!”
“Trust me,” Tracey smiled at the image in the mirror, “I don't feel anything like her either. I am definitely an entirely new person!”
Tracey snickered to herself.
“You look pretty enough to be a model you know,” Shadoe smiled.
Tracey sighed, “I can't deny it and I don't mean to sound conceited in the least, but that girl in the mirror there is a knock out! I can't believe it's me!”
“And you've never looked better, Damien!” Shadoe chuckled from behind.
Tracey's blood turned cold.
“D-Damien?” Tracey asked as she turned around slowly to face Shadoe, “why did you call me Damien?”
“Don't treat me like a half wit,” Shadoe replied stone faced, “I have been speaking to a lot of people down on the strip about that day you had to run from the dark suits. Several people saw Trace run out of the book store, then run into Damien, knocking him over, then Damien got up and ran around the corner. Other witnesses reported that Damien stopped at a Chinese couple, touched the guy on the arm then the Chinese guy ran off. Later on. Damien got picked up but he was speaking Chinese; Damien may have known a few words in Chinese but he certainly wasn't fluent at it. Later on, someone said they saw the dark suits pick up the Chinese guy but he was crying, in English, that he wanted his mommy!”
Tracey swallowed hard and asked, “and so how does that make me Damien?”
Shadoe smiled, “Well kid, you are not dealing with a moron; I have an IQ of one hundred fifty-seven! When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth! Somehow you and the Chinese guy were swapped from one body to another. Trace ran into you, you got dumped into her body, the Chinese guy got dumped into your body and so on. I have no idea what happened to the real Trace. Apparently though she was swapped into the body of whomever it was that touched her in the book store. Hence, you are Damien or rather, you used to be.”
“So why did you wait so long to tell me you knew?” Tracey asked.
“Well to be honest, I didn't know until recently. You see, I've known you, as Damien for just over 4 years now. I've come to recognize your style of guitar playing. Every guitar player has his own style and I heard Damien's style while listening to you practise!”
Tracey felt her cheeks turn red.
Shadoe gave her a hug, “Oh don't worry, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I'm a bit hurt that you didn't confide in me but I suppose I can understand your reasoning.”
Tracey smiled weakly, “Well, you have to admit, it's kind of hard to believe, especially for me. I mean imagine waking up in someone else's body. Not only that but someone you actually knew; well sort of knew. You didn't tell Rhonda, did you?”
“What? Do you think I'm nuts? Who'd believe a story about body swapping?I only told her you were on the run from some government assholes and as she's a kindred spirit of the street so she agreed to help out. I must admit that you turned out really well!”
“It is a bit hard to take though,” Tracey indicated the dress and her hair, “all this is a bit much for me but, I will admit that it is necessary. I'd be a moron to think otherwise. I couldn't keep looking like Trace did and still keep my freedom and this is a really good disguise, whether I like it or not. I do wonder why Trace never went this way in her own personal style, though.”
“Well, Trace was a free spirit; a sprite of sorts,” Shadoe smiled nostalgically, “she was goth-ish but not quite a goth and almost a punk but not quite so she adopted a look combining both them. Apparently he hated her natural hair colour. She really went out of her way to avoid people seeing her roots. It was only after you became her that I actually saw her roots. Trust me I was as surprised as you. The way you reacted to your new natural hair colour was the clincher that told me that either Trace had forgotten her real hair colour – not likely by the way – or somehow someone else became her.”
“And so you believed the impossible?” Tracey asked, “I mean wouldn't it be easier to believe she forgot her hair colour?”
Shadoe looked at Tracey critically, “most girls I know have a very highly developed sense of themselves. Most women know themselves fairly well, unlike men that seem to always need some sort of acknowledgement from a woman. Trust me, Trace knew her hair colour well enough to be bothered by it all the time. You apparently never knew at all, hence your reaction.”
“She really was a beauty though,” Tracey replied thoughtfully as she peered at the reflection of her back in the mirror.
“She is a beauty; you are a beauty,” Shadoe replied stepping into Tracey's view in the mirror, now “that's your ass that you are checking out there. It's all you now.”
Tracey smiled and blushed.
“You don't look like Trace at all now. Sure, it's her face and body and all but what you see is not her style. That image is yours; not Trace's. I have a pic of her from before, take a look and compare!”
Shadoe stepped out of the room then reappeared in the doorway after a few moments holding a photo of Trace on the strip wearing her usual gear.
“Now take a look at the pic then at yourself in the mirror, you'll see what I mean.” Shadoe handed the photo to Tracey.
Tracey looked at the photo. It depicted Trace posing in front of the local McDonald's, she then looked up to the mirror again, “The makeup really does make me look so much different to start with. The hair is so very different though. I could barely recognize myself as her anymore just with those two changes. But by adding the wardrobe change to everything else, I really don't look like her at all! This is amazing!”
“Yeah but you have to continue on with these changes. Keep up with the wardrobe and makeup. In the meantime, let your hair grow out. Eventually you can go without the extensions,” Shadoe smiled placing a friendly hand on Tracey's shoulder.
“Yeah once it grows in a bit more I'll be sending the extensions back to Rhonda with a note of gratitude,” Tracey smiled as she brushed her hair back, “I figure that normal people's hair grows about three quarters to a full inch per month, so say three months from now I'll send them back. That'll give me another 2 inches of hair length and maybe I can have that styled into something that is not so Trace like.”
“Now you're thinking!” Shadoe replied.
Their conversation was disturbed by the ringing of Tracey's cell phone. A silence grew between them for a moment until Tracey picked up her cell phone, “It's Dwayne!”
Tracey answered the phone feeling a bit of excitement, “Hello?”
“Hey Trace with a y!” Dwayne's voice responded with a chuckle, “I spoke to the guys and they are totally willing to let you audition as soon as possible. You're going to have to work your ass off though. We have a gig in less than a month. It's a band contest and we are hoping for some press and maybe be able to make a few connections for more gigs. Hopefully one as a house band somewhere.'
“Well hey, I'm a bit busy tonight but I can do tomorrow afternoon for sure,” Tracey replied recalling that Jason, Dwayne and Randy were normally free at that time of day, “what did they say about using Damien's gear?”
“Well Randy had a few reservations about it but no one's seen nor heard from Damien for a few weeks, so I figure he wouldn't mind.” Dwayne replied, “so yeah, that's a go!”
“Okay just remember that I might be a bit rusty to start off with but I am pretty sure I can keep up. Like I said, everything I know is from Damien's influence,” Tracey replied barely able to contain her glee.
“Fantastic! We'll see you there! Do you need a ride?” Dwayne asked.
“Just a minute,” Tracey muted the phone and glanced at Shadoe, “it's set for tomorrow!”
Shadoe just smiled and nodded her head.
“Yeah sure! I'll meet you where we met about three thirty tomorrow,” Tracey said.
“Okay then, I'll be looking forward to it!” Dwayne said, “I'll see you then!”
Tracey hung up and let out a squeal of excitement, which actually startled herself.
“Holy shit girl, where did that come from?” Shadoe asked with a giggle.
“I won't lie, I have no idea!” Tracey replied with her hands over her mouth and a blush to her cheeks, “although I suspect that I have a bit more of Trace left in me than I suspected.”
“Pfft!” Shadoe laughed, “excuses, excuses! But this calls for a celebration!”
“Fine, I'll go get my papers,” Tracey replied.
“That's a good start but I have a bottle of red wine in the fridge,” Shadoe said, “this is as good a time to break it out as any!”
Tracey closed her eyes to assist her in getting into the mood for performance. It was a form of quick meditation that helped her to focus.
"Holy shit," Randy replied, "You know Damien used to do that all the time before we started practice!"
Jason spoke up, "No shit! You really know his playing that well? Just how close were you two anyways?"
"Hey, cool out guys," Dwayne warned, "Give the girl a chance. She's got the background; let's see how she does!"
Tracey smiled, she expected some sort of response like this. She knew them all far too well.
"Like I told Dwayne, all I know I can directly attribute to Damien!" Tracey told them.
"Shit I didn't even know he had a student," Jason interjected, "I've been his best friend for years, and I didn't even know about you!"
Tracey chuckled, "Yeah but Damien never did really share a lot of his life with those that were not a direct part of it. He didn't tell me much about you guys, just as he didn't tell you about me."
"True enough," Jason admitted.
Tracey closed her eyes again and refocused herself, shifting Damien's bass on her shoulders, "Damn, this really feels different this way. I hope I can at least keep up! I didn't really consider how small my hands are now.”
“Okay, any time you guys are good to go,” Tracey said as she readied herself.
“Sure then, We'll do two covers to warm you up and then we'll do two originals. Just do your best and feel free to improvise on the originals.”
Dwayne counted them in. They played the two covers, “Stranglehold” by Ted Nugent and “Wicked Garden” by Stone Temple Pilots. They paused only for a moment after the cover songs, all three guys showing obvious signs of how they felt.
“Okay this first one is basically a pentatonic progression in A. Then the next goes into E major,” Randy coached her.
Tracey grinned inwardly.; she knew she had the gig long before she showed up. Sure she honestly struggled a bit having to use smaller hands than she was used to with the bass but she kept up despite it all.
Tracey went out of her way to add a few extra flourishes here and there to spice up her part in the songs. She didn't want to mimic her old style.
“Wow, you really have his influence, that's for sure!” Randy said. “I can definitely tell you've been taught by Damien. There is a lot of his style in the way you play. Even your playing with the originals is pretty reminiscent of his stuff.”
“You got that right,” Jason nodded, “I don't doubt you can fill his shoes. How about singing though? Can you do backup vocals with harmony?”
“Sure, not a problem!” Tracey grinned exceedingly happy to be able to use her new voice professionally.
Jason glanced at Dwayne for a moment, catching his eye then turned to catch Randy's eye then suggested with a nod, “Seven Bridges?”
Randy and Dwayne nodded back.
Dwayne counted them in.
“There are stars in the Southern sky,
Southward as you go
There is moonlight and moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road”
Tracey knew her craft well, she sang a higher part than she normally would but now she could pull it off easily. They all stopped singing together at the end of the first verse as if cued.”
“Fucking incredible!” Dwayne announced, still sitting behind the drums, “She plays bass, sings in harmony and looks good on stage!”
Tracey turned to look at him directly with a raised eyebrow and a look of surprise on her face.
“Yeah perhaps but I think her performance is more what we need. The looks are just a bonus,” Randy reminded them.
Tracey smiled at Randy. He always did have a sensible attitude. Jason was a bit of a natural showman but that was only on the stage, Randy was the serious, cerebral one of the group and then there was Dwayne. He was the joker.
Dwayne was also the one that was more likely to hit on any given girl that might cross his path. Tracey knew this all too well but never expected to have to deal so directly with it.
She sighed softly. Dwayne's comment about how she looked was his typical opener. Tracey, as Damien, had witnessed Dwayne at work many times She had to defuse him before he started to pick up steam.
“I'm only here to play and perform as a musician,” Tracey said, “I want my talents to speak for me, not my looks.”
“You got my vote!” Jason replied cheerfully.
Randy nodded, “Same here.”
Dwayne grinned and looked to Tracey, “Well that's all of us then! I guess we can't use the same name now, though. It kind of hard having a band called Doodz with a girl in it.”
Tracey grinned, “Well you can change it just a bit. Just call the band Dude!, with the exclamation mark.”
“Sweet idea!” Dwayne responded.
Randy and Jason nodded as well.
They continued chatting for the next hour setting up regular practice sessions as well as an accelerated practice schedule to get the band tighter for the contest gig.
Tracey couldn't believe it. She got her old position back, and even got the opportunity to get her old bass back, although she agreed to buy it off the band for a decent price.
She really didn't mind that part though. She was just happy to be able to get that bass back. She had gotten very attached to it as Damien.
Dwayne got up as Randy and Jason put their respective instruments down.
“Well there you go guys,” Dwayne smiled impishly, “Only in the band for a few seconds and she's already changing stuff!”
He laughed with Randy and Jason then added with a smile to Tracey, “Just kidding Trace with a y!”
“Trace with a y?” Randy asked.
Tracey laughed, “Yeah it's a joke based on the spelling of my name. I'm often referred to as just as Trace.”
Inwardly a part of her winced. Initially she didn't want to be confused with the original owner of her body but that worry was beginning to fade. She no longer felt alien in her new life; things were finally falling into place.
“You want a ride home there Trace?” Dwayne offered with a smile, prompting a pair of sighs from both Randy and Jason.
Dwayne looked at both of them with a sheepish grin, “What??”
Randy just shook his head but Jason replied, “oh, it's nothing... Casanova!”
The look upon Dwayne's face looked like a dog that got caught eating the Christmas turkey. Despite everything he just smiled and shrugged.
Tracey couldn't help but to giggle and replied, “Okay but I need to be dropped off on Robson Street near Thurlow; I'm meeting my roommate at the Black Angus.”
Dwayne pulled his old station wagon over to the curb, “Here you go. Remember, practice the day after tomorrow.”
Tracey nodded as she stepped out of the car.
“So, call me sometime?” Dwayne asked almost timidly, “it doesn't have to be band related either. Just to get together over a few drinks - or tokes – and maybe some dinner sometime?”
Tracey had never seen Dwayne acting so passively. Feeling a bit inspired she replied, “yeah, I'll give it some thought. See ya!”
Tracey closed the car door carefully, pulled her bass out of the back seat, throwing the gig bag strap over her shoulder and entered the restaurant to join Shadoe.
Shadoe was beaming when Tracey spotted her in the rear corner table. Tracey walked over, careful not to hit anyone with the bass.
“So I take it that you got the gig?” Shadoe asked, “not that I had any doubts of course.”
Tracey smiled, set the bass down in the corner and sat down, signalling the waitress for a coffee as she did so.
“Well, it was a bit of a stretch,” Tracey replied as she held her right hand out, “literally! These fingers are a bit shorter than what I started out with. But I know the bass well enough and I already had the bass part down. Although I had to throw in a few extras things to make it sound a bit different than how I used to play, but in the end I got it done!”
“So they gave you your old bass?” Shadoe asked nodding to the bass nestled in the corner.
“Hell no, they offered to sell it to me though. For dirt cheap actually. They've pretty much written Damien off now. Well actually buying it from them was my own idea. I've set up a payment plan for it and the rest of the gear Damien had to leave behind.”
Shadoe looked at Tracey with a mixed look on her face, “Written Damien off... the rest of the gear Damien had to leave. You are speaking of Damien as if he was someone else entirely!”
Tracey looked thoughtfully for a moment, “You know, in a big way I am beginning to think of Damien as someone else. I mean, yeah I used to be him but that seems so long ago now. His life and the life I have now are two different points in time and space. I am totally not the same person. I could hear it in my voice while singing and even my playing is a bit different now.”
Shadoe furrowed her brows a bit, “you already said your fingers are smaller.”
“Yeah but that's just the start of it,” Tracey smiled, “there's more to it though. Who I am now and my life as it is now all contribute to how I play and even though I try to play the same way, it feels more like an effort to recreate someone else's style than that of my own. I have my own feel to it now. I really can't explain it but it does appeal to the guys in the band and they want to keep my input.”
“So I saw Dwayne dropped you off and he had a pretty goo-goo look on his face,” Shadoe smiled slyly, “what was that all about?”
Tracey felt herself blush, “Well he asked for me to call him sometime for drinks or dinner. I've never seen him this way before.”
Shadoe grinned, “You're going to call him aren't you?”
Tracey paused for a few moments, “well, maybe. I don't know.”
Tracey felt the blush in her cheeks darken. Shadoe grinned triumphantly.
Tracey peeked through the curtains and looked out across the ballroom. In her former life, she had played many times just a half block down the street now it was her turn to stand upon the stage of the Commodore Ballroom. She couldn't help but to smile and shed a tear of happiness.
She had no doubt that her and the boys would take at least fourth prize. It took her some gruelling effort to get used to her bass again; these new, smaller hands were a bit of a challenge but she was positive she'd overcome it.
Even the guys in the band seemed to be thinking pretty positive.
Their gear was stowed just off stage mounted on a portable stage riser - each band used one of three risers. One was on stage being used, one was just off stage left and the other was just off stage right. As the bands came and went on stage the three risers were interchanged. One was centre stage, the other two were off stage, one on either side. Each side was both, for tear downs and set ups while the on stage band played.
She looked at their riser. Randy had spent the time and money to build a portable band logo backdrop especially for this gig.
Dwayne was double checking the placement of his drum kit while Randy and Jason were tuning up. Tracey had very little to do at this point but wait.
She had already tuned her bass just after they arrived and set up her bass amp and speakers. As a bass player, she really had the least issues with set up and that suited her just fine.
Tracey jumped slightly as she felt a hand upon her shoulder, “Just a little nervous are we, Trace?” Dwayne smiled.
Tracey turned around and smiled warmly, “Well I won't lie, I am a bit nervous. I've never been on a stage before.”
“Well not on a raised stage anyways,” Tracey thought, “and definitely never as a girl!”
“You'll get used to it after a while,” Dwayne smiled putting his arm around her shoulders, “you got used to me fast enough.”
Tracey chuckled, “True but I suspect biology might have played a bit part in that.”
“With the stage?” Dwayne asked with a grin.
“No, silly!” Tracey giggled, “with you!”
“Oh well okay then,” Dwayne replied, “Look the guys and I are going to spark one before hitting the stage. We are up after the next band. It should help with your meditation thing.”
“Yeah sure!” Tracey answered following Dwayne out the rear stage door.
Randy and Jason were already there waiting.
“So how you feeling there kid?” Randy asked Tracey.
“A bit tense but okay,” Tracey replied.
“Well I have a good treatment for stress,” Jason replied as he lit up.
“Yup, works every time!” Randy added.
“Guitar players,” Dwayne laughed.
“Hey, at least we're not the non-musician that hangs around musicians!”
Tracey laughed, elbowing Dwayne slightly, “Ooo a drummer joke!”
“Hey you guys behave or your musical asses will all be going home on the bus!” Dwayne replied with a sly grin.
“So Trace, we were thinking, you know all the words to Street Mode,” Randy said after recovering from his toke, “Jason said you do the melody better and it does sound better when you sing it.”
“It true,” Jason added, “that one time I came in late and I heard you fill in for me. You sounded fantastic! Sort of like a cross between Kim Carnes and Bonnie Tyler!”
“Who?” Tracey asked with not a small amount of surprise.
“1970's female singers,” Randy replied, “Kim Carnes did Bette Davis Eyes and Bonnie Tyler did It's a Heartache.”
Tracey nodded. She didn't compare what she sounded like when she sang. It was enough to get used to a girl's voice answering her everytime she talked or sang.
“Wow, I never thought of that,” Tracey smiled taking her turn.
She looked at Randy, then Jason then Dwayne, “But we're doing Street Mode as our closer. They're more likely going to remember us for that.”
“Exactly,” Jason smiled, “We need to be flexible in our sound and you certainly add that to our sound. Sure Damien was a great bass player and his harmonies were excellent but there is something extra about you that you bring to the table. You may have been tutored by him, and it shows mind you, but you definitely have your own style and sound. Besides I've been talking to the guys over the past week and I'm willing to step back into the background and let you take lead vocals if you think you can handle it and play bass at the same time.”
Tracey was flabbergasted but kept contained, “Wow guys, I never saw this coming at all! Well let's just get on with the show tonight and let tomorrow worry about itself shall we?”
“I believe they're coming up on their last tune now,” Dwayne noted, “we'd better get inside.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the last band has been over their fair share of hurdles recently, having lost their bass player and having to replace him in short order, and also had to alter the name of the band,” the hostess announced on the PA, “They were formerly an all male band called Doodz, they had to change the name because the chemistry changed with the addition of their new bass player – a woman. So let's hear it for Dude!!”
Tracey stepped out on the stage with a grin on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned across the hundreds of people in the ballroom. She adjusted her bass on her shoulders and took her place behind her microphone.
As the crowd's cheers began to die down Dwayne counted them in.
Dude! didn't win first prize at the contest but they did win second prize and were approached by an agency willing to work with them for promotion and a possible recording contract.
Trace, as she became known as, took on the position of lead singer for the band, changing the format of the band and in the process making them more main stream.
In order to round out the sound, Tracey actually talked Dwayne and Randy into adding some background vocals along with Jason. Dude! became known for their four part harmony in their alternative/70's rock sound.
Dwayne and Trace eventually became a couple and Damien became more of a memory for Tracey.
Oh and Shadoe? She eventually settled down with Jason and became the band's resident photographer and videographer.