Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie and Co. spend time with family of the girl she saved, make a boy happy and Joanie and Carrie attend a birthday party -- how dangerous can that be? The fifteen minutes of fame go into overtime.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This was my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005- 2006. See my new agents Bill & Ted of San Dimus, CA, ‘Be excellent to each other and party on dude’.

p.s.These guys are a lot nicer but seem like a couple of airheads to me.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 8-Road Trip, Part two

Madison, WI and the four-state area - WI, IL, MN, IA - Sometimes we didn’t know were we were but it was fun, - August 31st thru September 09, 2006

December 13, 2006 Leaving Boston on connecting train to Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 6:30am EST

Getting from the Boston AMTRAK station to the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle was complicated as there is no direct connection, at least not a convenient one. I could ride my Harley between the north and south Boston AMTRAK stations to their Downeaster, but I’m not familiar with Boston and its old, narrow, congested roads, a traffic nightmare for this soon to be ex-Midwesterner. I could ride direct to the Shuttle, but that’s much farther and more of the same. That left sending my cycle separately via a freight connection to the Shuttle or using Boston’s Light Rail and Interurban system for both me and the Harley. It was tricky, but I had called ahead about this and managed to pull it off. I did need to use my charms on a couple burley male commuters to get their help hefting the cycle on the interurban, but they were very helpful and the dark haired guy was a stud. They got some very enthusiastic hugs and kisses from me. They deserved it.

It was awfully tempting to ask one or both out for a drink and back to his place. I think this body is pushing me more and more towards men; that I even fantasize about it is proof enough. Not that I’m not still attracted to women. I swear sometimes this body just wants sex, period. If it’s attractive, the gender doesn’t matter. Male or female, I respond and it’s not easy staying in control. I wonder if they can help me with “that” at Whateley. At least it will make for something interesting to discuss with their doctors.

I did have a nasty run in with someone at the Boston AMTRAK station, but I’ll write about that later. First, back to Mel, Babs, the rest of the Gang of Four, and Mel’s brother, Eric Johnson.

* * * *

For the next few hours, the seven of us rode in the limo; seven you say, we only counted six. Mel’s brother Eric had to come and apologize for putting his sister and me in danger. His apology was delayed due to the tongue-lashing his dad and grandfather gave him. There was this one other little complication, actually for a boy of thirteen in the throws of puberty, it really wasn’t that small, judging from the embarrassing bulge it made in his dress pants, and it was partially my fault. He’d started out okay, very remorseful and charming.

“I want to apologize to both my sister and you, Miss Joanie, for being reckless and putting you both in danger. I knew better than to play near a busy highway or to tease my sister even though she deserves it, the little twerp.”

~ Ah, this last bit was certainly honest, he must be her brother. Sibling rivalry, I know it well. ~

“I’m not a twerp; you’re just being mean. MOM! Eric’s being mean to me,” Mel whined, smart girl.

“What did I say to you earlier?” Mom was upset.

“Sorry, Mom, that was rude of me. I’m sorry too, Miss Joanie, I really like my sister, but sometimes I forget she’s younger, and we play too wild. I’m so glad you could save her.”

“I’m glad too, Eric,” I said as I bent forward to shake his hand.

This was a mistake as it gave Eric a very good, close view down my cleavage — my ample, flawless, oh-so-delectable cleavage. I realized my mistake, but it was too late.

~ Oh joy, just what we need now, throwing gasoline on the fires of male puberty. ~

I swear his voice dropped a full octave in a matter of minutes. He sure looked uncomfortable in his pants; part of him had to be. I could see his considerable bulge twitching against the fabric.

~ Ghod, I’m lusting for a thirteen year old boy, BAD BAD BAD libido, down girl, stay. ~

I’m afraid the rest of the girls saw his predicament and engaged in a game of tease the boy. They couldn’t get too raunchy, with Mel and Babs there, but it was almost more erotic for being so tame. The poor boys eyes nearly popped out when Red did this slow, big stretch -- her long, muscular, tan legs straightening all the way out to her pointed feet. The backwards arch of her torso combined with an almost feline rub of her arm against her head gave Eric the full benefit of her wonderfully toned middle and her marvelous chest. Carrie played the sweet and innocent but always was smiling when Eric looked her way. And Gin? She took a cue from my boob flash but upped the ante by opening a button or three and untucking her red silk blouse in a very sensual near striptease. I gave Gin a look.

“I’m just getting comfortable, Joanie, dear,” she whispered to me. “I saw how he reacted to your accidental boob flash, so Red, Carrie, and I decided to help Mel out by teasing him a bit. You know, show him how great it is to have a girl around. Maybe he’ll stop teasing his sister and ask her if she knows any nice girls his age.”

“You three did this and didn’t tell me? I’m hurt,” I whispered, then I pouted and broke out in giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Eric asked, his voice cracking.

“My friends decided you were mean to your sister and decided to play a trick on you,” I said. Then I went into sex kitten mode and in my most sultry voice said, “Did us big, bad girls make ‘little Eric’, um ... uncomfortable?”

Babs, the Gang of Three, and I broke out in howls of laughter. Eric looked like he’d wet his pants in the middle of a school assembly, and Mel looked like I’d given her the best gift ever -- revenge. It was time to let Eric off the hook, well a little.

“Eric, I’m sorry we teased you, that was as mean as you calling your pretty sister names.” Eric was contrite, Mel was grinning from ear to ear.

~ Must have heard me say she was pretty. ~

“Eric, if you’re nice to girls, they’ll be nice back. From how you’ve reacted to my friends and myself, I think you’re starting to like girls, maybe even thinking of doing stuff with them like going to dances or dating,” I said in a soothing tone.

“Eric, are you blushing?” Babs asked. “It’s okay, hon, boys your age are supposed to start noticing girls; just let Dad or I know what you’re doing, alright?”

“What everything?” Eric seemed worried.

“Just let us know where you’re going and with who. Remember to behave nice and remember the talk Dad had with you on your last birthday. Maybe it’s time we both have the talk with you.” She smiled but Eric looked embarrassed.

“Mom: in front of all these girls!” he complained.

“They’re women; that’s what your body is telling you, if you’ll listen, but you need to be a gentleman. There were lots of men who pursued me when I was their age, but I married your dad because he was a good-man not just because he’s so handsome,” Babs explained.

She got this look in her eyes, the same one my mom had when she especially happy with Dad. I changed seats to sit next to Eric; I put an arm around him and held his hand.

“Eric, girls can be lots of fun to be with. Why so you think your dad married your mom? Just don’t tease us, we’re people too. You’ll find girls can do just about anything boys like to do, but we’re much nicer to cuddle with.”

I gave him a good hug and a tender, lingering kiss on the cheek. On an impulse I gave him a quick one on the lips -- why I haven’t a clue. He was stunned.

“When you get a little older, maybe you’ll find a special girl that likes you too. See, I told you girls are fun.”

~Odd, that felt, um ... pleasant, must be a girl thing. ~

Babs was smiling, the gang looked at me with awe, and Mel was dumbstruck.

“Earth to Mel, earth to Mel, come in Mel, over,” I said, my hand cupping my mouth to mimic the sound of a WWII radio communication.

“You kissed my brother on the lips, ewwh!” Mel made a yuck face.

“Mel, it’s not like I kissed my own brother, I just wanted him to know it’s much better for him to be nice to girls than tease them.” Mel still looked grossed out. “Mel, you’re beginning to develop into a very pretty young woman, and your brother is fast becoming a handsome man. Having a good-looking older brother will be a real advantage.”

“How’s that?” Mel asked, clearly puzzled.

“The pretty ladies he’ll be dating will often have equally good looking brothers you might want to date.” Mel and Eric looked sick. “Don’t give me that ‘Euh! Yuck, sex’ look. Boys and girls can do lots of fun things together. The yucky sex stuff can wait ‘til you’re much older like even ‘til you’re married like your parents.”

This was tricky ground, but Babs nodded her approval, I think she thought I could walk on water when it came to her children.

“Anyway, Mel, it’s not as if I’m dating Eric,” I said, and Mel looked happier. “Doing anything next Saturday, stud muffin?” I cooed, Mel shrieked and everybody started laughing, even poor Eric.

~Bad bad Joanie, but Ghod that was fun! ~

* * * *

December 13, 2006 North of Boston MA, interurban in route to connection with the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 7:30am EST

Dear diary/journal/whatever reader, you’re wondering what’s with this no good deed going unpunished? Other than my face in the press, what harm was done? That’s the insidious nature of fame, it bites you when you least expect it. The damage was done, the harm would come eventually. Why do you think I’m on the way to Whateley? It’s not just to finish up my girl training.

Much good did come from my “outing.” Red and I got a break from our bout of lesbian lust. With the tension broken, we could concentrate on my training and just being friends, not that we haven’t fooled around since then. She knows I still have things to work out and is just happy to get what she can out of our relationship. Gin and sweet Carrie became closer as well, I think they’re a couple now, though Carrie has gone out a few times with Badger Boy, and Gin gets all dewy-eyed around Driftless Dan. Mind you, he is rather hunky in a Harrison Ford/Clint Eastwood, Indiana Jones /spaghetti western crossover way.

That road trip cemented them as my sisters, as much as marriage or birthright would have. The Girls say they might road trip to Whateley, after the spring university semester ends; they’re curious to see Whateley as my research intrigues them. That and the stories they’ve heard, Sara and Dairy Maid are alumna after all. The going away party the Gang of Three threw me was memorable, particularly the whipped cream and cherries mini orgy we had. It was Red’s idea, something about indulging an old male fantasy they figured I had. It was a good choice, a children’s pool full of pudding is way too hard to clean up after, and Jell-O stains so. Why blow this ex-man’s lesbian paradise, you ask? I found out that Halloween, I was not ready to protect myself from the darker forces my “outing” unleashed. I still may have ended up at Whateley anyway but that made it imperative.

It started out very innocently at Mel’s eleventh birthday party. I always suspected karaoke was a menace but that night confirmed it. The Gang of Four had to break up, as Red and Gin had commitments in Wisconsin, but Carrie and I stayed with Mel, Eric, and Babs at the Iowa Governor’s Mansion, Terrace Hill. The Victorian home was open to the public on the first three floors, but the fourth and tower were all ours. I enjoyed my time with Mel as I got the chance to be the little girl I never was. My inner child was female now, and she had a blast. We did all the things the TG fiction people write about, and I enjoyed much of it. We even did some horseback riding and swimming and why, because it said so right on my tampon box -- shame on me. Sorry but I couldn’t resist that old chestnut. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with Mel. In many ways she was older than her years, and I was younger.

I found Mel was heavy into the teen pop idol period of her life, her room full of pop star posters and teen magazines. After talking with Babs, we made arrangements to hold Mel’s birthday party at a local family-friendly supper club that had a karaoke room, which we rented for the night with her dad’s, the Senators, assistance. With Babs help, I bought a warm and decorative wool bed spread from the Amana Woolen Mill in the historic Amana Colony. Babs was upset at the cost until I suggested we mention who it was for and see if they’d give us a discount. Her “Daddy” made a few calls for us, and the next day we received it at cost. They would have sent it for free, but I insisted we pay something. Senator Joe sure has some clout in Iowa.

The party was fun; good food and her friends in their best casual clothes, “This is a birthday party not a photo op,” Babs explained to me.

The karaoke was my downfall, me and my pretty mouth! Senator Joe had gone all out. He adored his granddaughter, but I think he was trying to impress me, little Miss Nobody. I don’t think he intended things to get as out of hand as they did, but even political geniuses screw-up sometimes. The girls and the couple of boys who were invited ~ um ... boys ~ took turns singing along with the machine. Some were okay. Some were awful, one or two were pretty good. Mel was great, but then I’m biased. Everyone had fun, even her brother Eric. Then the shit hit the fan, but we didn’t know it at the time.

Unknown to us, including the Senator, digital cameras were snuck into the room. They were disguised as the regular security cameras. An employee of the restaurant was dating a local TV reporter and got word to her of the upcoming birthday party for the governor’s daughter and that the mystery girl who had saved her was a guest. Remote control cameras with built-in microphones were watching our every move. This was bad in itself but survivable. What made the shit fly was Grandpa Joe had called a fellow US Senator from California, who called his contacts and got a record producer who specialized in young singers to run the karaoke night. He brought in a far better, professional machine that had more songs, a great sound system and recorded your performance. That and he brought along several of his industry pals. I think they wanted to lobby the Senator.

Everything still might have worked out, but Mel was having so much fun and everyone else had sung, so she says, “Mommy: why haven’t you, Carrie or Joanie sung, it’s lots of fun?”

Several songs later an embarrassed but happy Babs and Carrie had finished their duets, the cowards.

Then Mel turned to me, “Joanie, please sing for me. I bet you have a pretty voice. I won’t laugh.”

Everyone giggled, clapped and pounded the tables like in an old prison film. I figured if I’m going to make a fool of my self, might as well do it big and get it over.

“Got any oldies?” I asked.

“All kinds, what do you fancy?” said the karaoke man.

“I’m feeling suicidal tonight, got any Roy Orbison?”

“Sure, I’ll bring up the menu.”

Orbison’s a favorite of mine; a fine singer-songwriter, a member of the rock and roll hall of fame and the Country Music Hall of Fame. The Rock Hall of Fame in Cleveland was dedicated to him on its opening, a few months after his death in December of 1988. His songs are often hard to sing, as his voice had a wide range, and he wrote for his falsetto as well. Women don’t have a falsetto, so I knew this would be hard, but it was for fun, who cares?

“Let’s start easy, play Oobie Doobie,” I said.

A mid fifties rock-a-billy song, Orbison’s first recording. It’s very easy to sing and has a catchy tune -- it was even in Star Trek, First Contact. I thought I did well, Mel liked it, she said the lyrics were silly. Then I sang Blue Bayou. Linda Ronstadt did a great cover on an album in the late 1970’s; it’s tougher to sing but very sentimental. When I finished, the kids were silent for a moment, then they started clapping wildly. Mel was very happy, and Babs and Grandpa Joe were looking at me like, well I don’t know, but it was good what ever it was. I noticed the karaoke man and the men who’d come with Senator Joe were paying attention too; they’d seemed bored before. I didn’t think much of it at the time, this was too much fun. It was late but Mel wanted one more.

“Oh what the heck”, hey these are kids, “You got Crying?”

“Up in a minute, Joanie,” he replied, somehow he’d remembered my name.

~Maybe he’s hot for tall strawberry blonds? ~

Mind you, the peasant blouse, above the knee skirt and ankle boots combo was pretty sexy. This is a difficult song, it won K.D.Lang and Orbison the Grammy for country duet of the year in the mid 80’s, and she sang the low part. As strong a voice as she had, it wasn’t up to some of the high, loud, emotional notes. I surprised myself; I got through it easy, no problems. I thought I held the high notes loud, long and clear.

~Gee, I always thought that was a tough one. Maybe my mutation gave me a decent range? ~ I thought.

When I finished, I was in for a shock. They all sat there wide eyed with their mouths hanging open.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” I asked.

~Are they playing some birthday party joke on me? I’m no birthday party expert. ~

Mel shrieked, ran up to me and hugged me hard. Everyone else started clapping and screaming, even Eric, Babs, the Senator and his strange guests.

“That was just so kewl, Joanie, where did you learn to sing like that -- I said you had a pretty voice -- I wish my voice was as pretty as yours -- if I ask Grandpa Joe I bet he can get a record company to let you sing for them and I could hear you on the radio and TV and you could give concerts and I’d be your biggest fan and ... “

I knew it was a mistake to give her the piece of cake with all those extra frosting decorations on it, that and all the soda. Sugar overload, aoooga!

“I’m glad you liked it, Mel, but I’m no singer. That was just for fun, and cuz I likes yah, silly girl,” I said smiling.

I gave her a hug and a mild noogie. I had to defend myself from ‘Sergeant Sugar Rush’. The party wound down; the kids headed home, giving us their thanks as they left. The Senator arranged limo rides for every child; he’d pulled out all the stops. Mel, Eric, Babs, Carrie and I were among the last to leave. Mel was still gushing over her presents; she loved the bedspread, sweet kid. Her mom taught her great manners. Mel kept saying how great I sounded, even Carrie and Babs got into the act.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?” Carrie said.

“I didn’t know I could,” I said.

“I’ve gone to countless concerts, over the years with my dad and husband, and I’ve never heard a voice like yours,” said Babs.

“That bad huh?” I replied; now I was creeping out, this was beyond embarrassing.

“You’re very, very good, Joanie, professional singer good,” Babs asserted.

“She’s right, you know,” the karaoke machine man spoke up.

“And why do you say that?” I was getting annoyed, this much praise was disturbing.

“I say that because it’s true. The Senator asked a fellow Senator in California if he knew someone in the recording industry who wouldn’t mind running a karaoke machine for his colleague’s granddaughters birthday party. He called in a few favors, so here I am,” he explained.

“And you are?” I asked.

Damn, why did I ask that, why didn’t I just shut up and go home? If I’d just shut up, I not be in the mess am today.

“I’m VP for new talent at Warner Records, the man in the blue suit is a producer for Virgin, and the man in the grey pinstripe is with Sony and handles all their young female teen singers. We all agree you’re that good,” he explained; I looked at the Senator.

“Is this on the level?”

“Sorry, Joanie, but it is,” he said, and looked embarrassed, he’d sensed my discomfort. “They’re right and so are all the children, my daughter, your friend Carrie, and my grand daughter and grandson. You have a wonderful gift if you chose to share it. With that voice and your looks, no telling how far you can go.”

“Now that’s just ... I’m not ... What I meant was ...“ I sputtered. I was rattled, I couldn’t get the words right.

“Oh, one last thing, Joanie,” the karaoke guy said as he held out a business card, “I saw you first. Want a contract?”

They all gave me their cards, and private direct numbers, and said to call them if I was even a little bit curious about singing professionally.

It was late as we left; the party had lasted far into the night by eleven year old standards and the ten o’clock news had started. We stepped out the doors into a barrage of photo strobes and TV floodlights. The local ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX affiliates all had live remotes.

~How did they know the Senator was here? ~

“Joanie, Joanie can you speak to us, who are you?”

~Oh oh, they’re not calling his name, are they? Ghod, they know my name! ~

Senator Joe was used to press gauntlets, so was Babs, even Mel and Eric to some extent, but this was over the top. How we got into the Senator’s limo, I don’t know. It was a nightmare; I was on the edge of panic. Cooler heads took action, and with his and Babs’ connections, the police were soon out in force and freed us from the feeding frenzy.

“I’m so sorry this happened. I don’t know what to say.” Senator Joe was upset.

“You okay, Joanie? Dad can have you both on his private plane and back to your home tonight, if you’re worried,” Babs said trying to calm me.

Carrie looked in shock and was holding my hand tight and Mel?

“I told you, I told you. That was so wild all the TV stuff and cameras flashing, and you’re gonna be a famous big singing star, and I’ll be your biggest fan, and this is so kewl ...“

~Does anything faze this kid? ~

Thank Ghod the long day caught up with her as she soon stopped her happy nonstop chatter and lay smiling, snuggled up against me, her head resting on my lap. Carrie and I decided to stay a couple more days, in hopes that it all would blow over.

* * * *

The next morning the TV, radio and newspapers showed how far and fast it flies these days when it hits the fan. Like any well equipped political domicile, Terrace Hill had a media center with multiple TVs, tape and digital recorders, radios, press wire service feeds -- the works. They had a computer dedicated to searching the Web for any references to the Governor or his opponents. The governor and his/her staff could keep abreast of any politically important developments with ease.

It had flung everywhere. My picture was on the cover of the states biggest newspaper and inside several regional ones. I even made the cover of USA Today.

~Must have been a slow news day. ~

A piece on me showed up on the BBC World Service, geeze-Louise. I was the lead or feature story on every Iowa network affiliate and several western Wisconsin stations, including all of the major Madison ones. I made special note of that.

“There goes any chance of getting around Madison unnoticed, just freakn’ great.” I was so very pleased, yah, sure I was.

Babs got my attention away from the local and regional media. “Joanie, dear, I don’t think you’re going to like this one.”

FOX got wind of it first, and then the rest followed up their lead, MSNBC hit the jackpot.

“Repeating, MSNBC reports that the so called ‘Mystery Girl’, who saved the life of the daughter of Iowa Governor and Presidential contender Robert ‘Bob’ Johnson five days ago, is a recently discovered mutant who currently resides in Madison Wisconsin. Reliable sources told MSNBC that the Mystery Girls name is Joan or Joanie Brown and her amazing rescue of the girl, who is also the only granddaughter of four term US Senator Joseph P. Williams of Iowa, was due to Ms Brown being a warper with rare time related powers. Sources further report Ms. Brown’s story is all the more remarkable, in that until early this July she was a 48 year old “...

- THUD! -

I woke on Mel’s bed, her mom and grandfather watching intently from chairs, as Carrie checked my pulse. Mel stood on the other side of the bed, quietly crying.

“What happed?” Expecting Shakespeare? I’d only just come to.

“You feel like getting up, Joanie? You had us worried,” said Carrie.

“I’d like to crawl down a deep dark hole, but I can’t, so I guess I’d better get up,” I said feeling depressed.

Mel sat next to me on the bed looking very confused. “Is it true, Joanie, that you were an old man before you, you know, mutated?”

“48’s not that old. Your grandfather is a lot older than 48, and I don’t think he’s old, he’s distinguished. 48’s not old!” I made a pout, and I didn’t do it deliberately, I swear!

“That is just so, you’re so amazing, Joanie, my brother’s never gonna live it down that a guy, well a former guy kissed him -- I’m gonna tease him about it for years -- this is the best present ever -- I love you, pretty Joanie -- you’re the kewlest!” she stopped talking and started bouncing on the bed as she hugged and tickled me.

When she’d calmed down some and was only hugging me to death and grinning inanely, I asked, “Is she always like this? Doesn’t anything ever get Mel down?”

“Nope,” said Grandpa Joe.

“Sometimes, if she has to eat some vegetables she doesn’t like, but that’s about it,” Babs said.

“Once when she was four, we said she couldn’t have a kitty cat because she was too young,” said a tall, forty something man who’d entered the room.

“Bob, when did you get back? I thought the Conference of Governors ended tomorrow,” Babs asked.

~Bob? ~

“You’re the happy machine’s dad, Governor Johnson?” I asked.

“’Fraid so; can I call you Joanie as everyone else here seems to.”

“Joanie Brown, at your service, Governor,” I said shaking his big, strong hand.

~Oooh, he’s buff and sooo tall. Big hands, hum, I wonder if it’s true … No, I told you libido down, stay. Good girl. I have got to talk to Sara about this development. ~

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to thank you for saving Mel, but Babs said to go on to the Conference of Governors as she’d take care of things. I came back as soon as I could, I skipped the closing ceremonies. Joanie, Mel here is probably going to keep after Babs and me until we adopt you or let her keep you as her pet.”

He smiled, Babs and I giggled, Carrie and the Senator stifled laughs, and Mel said, “She’s my bestest friend, can she be my sister, Daddy? Please?”

“Don’t do that, Mel, it hurts my ears,” I said, then I giggled again.

~Why am I giggling so? ~

Mel insisted we have pancakes, as they always cheered her up, and I looked like I needed it. As we ate, FOX news came back on.

“We have exclusive footage our affiliate station shot, of mystery girl Joanie Brown entertaining at Governor Johnson’s daughter’s eleventh birthday party, last night.”

“Father, you promised you’d keep the press away,” Babs said with some anger.

“I wasn’t me, Pumpkin. I made absolutely sure the press knew the party was off limits; no camera, no reporters, period. Someone’s in serious trouble; this was a closed, private party.”

It was only TV sound, but there I was talking and laughing with the guests. They edited bits together and got some good close-ups of my face and profile but the kicker was the karaoke. They played the last thirty seconds of Crying, the sound was a little tinny but...

~ No, that can’t be me. I don’t sound like that? ~

I looked so happy singing, I was positively glowing.

“I really sound like that? I never knew. Carrie, what do I do now?” I started crying, a big sobbing cry.

“What’s wrong Joanie, why are you crying? You should be happy you sing and look so pretty and are my best friend. Don’t cry, please,” my new bestest friend said, and she hugged me hard.

~Mel’s talking normal for once; she must be very concerned for me. ~

I sucked it up like a former man now reluctant superheroine and told Mel.

“It’s not that I’m not happy I have a nice voice and pleasant looks, it’s just I wanted a normal life, and that doesn’t seem possible anymore. Not unless the press forgets about me.”

“It’s all my fault, Joanie, for running in the road. If you hadn’t saved me, no one would know.” She was distraught, poor child.

“It’s not your fault, that was an accident. People would have found out about me eventually; this way it happened a little early, that’s all.” She smiled some but still sniffled. I had an inspiration; I hoped it’d prove true. “Mel, ask your mom and dad, or better yet Grandpa Joe, he’s been in politics for years. Bet you, a few months from now, hardly anyone will remember me.”

“I don’t know if it will be that soon, but stranger things have happened. You’re right though, once a bigger story grabs the headlines, things should calm down, assuming you can keep those copper eyes of yours out of the headlights.”

~Senator Joe noticed my eyes; my, is he’s a smooth one and still so very fit. Damn but my libido’s playing nasty today, I thought it’s supposed to ease during my period? I’ll have to ask Sara about that too. ~

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 08/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.