Synopsis:

Unhappy with the band he was playing with, Jack decided to quit and go back home. Jack's sister Jen knew the perfect way to allow Jack to be Jill, just like she'd always wanted to be, and set things in motion to make it happen.

Story:

Changing Keys
By Jillian

Okay, first of all, I’m a professional musician. Please note, I didn’t say rock star, or anything like that. I’m what most in the music industry refer to as a “sideman”, or “hired hand”. Those terms have always seemed a bit too polite to me. I generally refer to myself as a “musical whore”. My policy has always been that the kind of music didn’t matter, as long as the pay was good, and if it was steady, that was all the better.

The other thing that’s important for you to know about me is, I am transgendered. Not like a flaming drag queen or something, but more like a feminine spirit within a masculine body. Unfortunately for the most part my opportunities for letting my spirit run free, as it were, have been extremely limited over the years.

To begin with, I decided early on that I wasn’t going to be able to manage a complete transition to womanhood for a variety of reasons, courage and money being at the top of the list. Additionally, playing in road bands often means living in hotel rooms with a roommate for months at a time, and contrary to what a lot of people think, musicians as a group are not any more tolerant of alternative lifestyles than the rest of the world. In fact, a lot of musicians are almost reactionary in their approach to gender.

Most of the world believes that men should be men, and women should be women, and that’s that. A lot of the guys I’ve worked with over the years would include the addendum of “And don’t even think of taking so much as a tiny baby step in the direction of that line separating the two.”

I’d spent much of the past year and a half touring the hotel lounge circuit with a five piece country band, and while in many ways it was just as uncomfortable for me as all the other bands I’d worked with in this situation, I did at least have the luxury of usually having a room to myself, so I was at least able to indulge in a few rituals that helped me cope with my situation.

It seems when you’re a non-smoker, working with four walking chimneys, it only takes a little bit of whining to convince the others that you should be the one to get the solo room so you don’t have to breath the second hand smoke in the hotel room, and I made sure to take advantage of this option from the first stop onward. None of them thought to mention that after all these years playing in bars six nights each week and breathing the extremely thick second hand smoke that was invariably present I was probably just as nicotine addicted as they were, and I wasn’t about to raise this thought as it would have been counterproductive to my purpose.

This meant I could at least wear panties instead of men’s underwear and yes, sleep in a nightie, and I could have decent shampoo, conditioner, and body wash with me instead of having to use the same cheap junk the guys used for fear that it all be wasted in some testosterone driven playtime adventure. This is important for me, because frankly these things are what help Jill be more comfortable with having to be Jack to the rest of the world.

Now, if that were the only problem I had playing with these guys, I’d be set. However, since I couldn’t stand any of the four of them because they were basically disgusting to me, I had been looking for an “out” for a long time, and it finally came when we found ourselves heading back home for three weeks because of a couple of cancellations.

As soon as we were given the news of our return to what we called civilization, I informed them that they should use that down time to find a new guitar player, as I wanted to ‘pursue something else’. There, I’d made my escape, and had been able to pin it on ‘artistic differences’. How cheesy is that?

I should also mention that the last time I had been home ‘at liberty’, as the old vaudevillians used to say, I had finally taken the plunge, and in an act of what can only be described as daring for me, started on hormones. Now here I was, a year and a half later, and if it weren’t for my stupid beard, I was probably about as feminine as I was ever going to appear, short of extensive surgery. What all this means is, if I were ever to actually transition, the time would be now.

Going back home meant I was once again going to be staying with my sister, which was actually a pretty good situation for me. She had known and accepted my transgenderism from early on, so I knew that as long as I was there, there would be nothing to worry about as far as problems were concerned, whether I went through with transitioning or not. I called her to inform her of my imminent return, and when we got back in town I asked the guys to drop me off there, and told them I’d come over later to get my gear.

Now, my sister is a wonderful person. She’s the lead singer in a band called ‘Starlust’. They play heavy rock and roll covers and originals around town several nights a week, and make a good living doing it. She’s also the first person I ever confided my secret in, and amazingly has always been very accepting of me and my peculiarities.

I grabbed my two big duffel bags that served as my luggage, and got out of the van. The guys surprised me by climbing out, getting my gear out of the trailer, and even going so far as carting it up to the porch for me. Maybe they were a little pissed because I was quitting, I don’t know. Once all my stuff was unloaded and my goodbyes had been said, I made my way up to her door. Either she had been waiting for us or our arrival was announced by the noise of my stuff being carried up onto the porch, because by the time I got back there from saying my farewells she had the door open, welcoming me back.

“Welcome home, sis,” she said to me as I set down my bags and gave her a hug. She always calls me that in private, and I love her all that much more because of it.

“It’s good to be back. Guess you’ll be stuck with me for a while. I quit those guys,” I informed her as we released the hug and made our way to the couch and sat down together.

“It’s about time!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure how you’d made it this long with those jerks.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not either, but it’s over now. The bad part is, now I’m going to have to find a new gig.”

She looked at me for a second with a strange grin on her face before she spoke, “I might have an idea on that front.”

I eyed her suspiciously before saying, “And what might that be?”

She patted my hand and said, “In good time.” She got up from the couch and, as she headed into the kitchen asked, “Want anything while I’m up?”

“Sure, got a diet coke handy?” I shouted in her direction. I wondered what she was thinking?

As she returned to her seat, she handed me a can of soda, then once settled back in her place she said, “I missed you.”

Still feeling rather suspicious after the ambiguous statements a moment before, I looked at her and said, “I’ve missed you too, sis, but what did you have in mind?”

“Moi? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she feigned ignorance, but I could tell the cogs were spinning up in the old noodle.

Growing frustrated with her evasive answers, I finally asked, “What’s this idea you might have for my new gig?”

She took a sip of her soda, set it down on the coffee table, then turned to me and said, “Come play with us for a while. We need a guitar player, and you are one of the best I know.”

I looked at her as she started to grin at me. “I thought you guys were an all girl band?”

“We are.”

“Well? I am not exactly equipped for that,” I said in an uneasy voice.

She eyed me for a moment before speaking again, “Come on, we both know that deep down you’re more girl than half the female guitar players in this town. I happen to know for a fact that you can look pretty good when you try. Besides, we have a lot of work lined up and need someone who can step in on pretty much no notice; our last lead player got pissed off and quit in the middle of a gig.”

“Why’d she get pissed off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Shelly making out with her boyfriend backstage just before we went on.” Shelly has been the drummer in ‘Starlust’ for longer than I can remember, and lives her life by the motto, ‘I never met a guy I didn’t make out with.’

“Ouch!”

“You can say that again. Listen, the truth is, she wasn’t all that good anyway, and even if she hadn’t quit, I’d be asking you to do this anyway.”

“But…but…”

“Uh-uh. No buts allowed. You need a gig. We have regular work. We all talked about this as soon as you called to tell me you were coming home, and the girls all think it’s a great idea. It’s not like they haven’t all met Jill before. And who knows, maybe you’re learn a little something about yourself in the process.”

I sat there, unable to move or speak, for what seemed like hours. Finally, I said, “Listen, can I think about this for a while? I’m having some trouble with this idea.”

“Sure, but please don’t take too long? If you decide to do it, we need a couple of rehearsals before Wednesday night.” She then got up from the sofa, and went into her bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room, which was to be my quarters for the night, since apparently what had at one time been my bedroom had been converted into the band’s rehearsal space. I sat there drinking my soda and thinking about what she had just asked me.

My mind went from being frozen still to whirring at a hundred miles an hour in about three milliseconds. “Wow!” I thought, “That was unexpected. How on Earth could I pull something like this off? There’s no way in the world I could pass well enough to do it. No way!”

My brain was doing laps at Indy at this point, “Okay, so I’ve been out dressed lots of times, and at least don’t get sneered at on a regular basis, but we’re talking about being up on stage playing for four hours a night! I don’t think It would work. Now, how do I tell my sister this without coming across like a complete heel?

“I don’t know where she got the idea something like this could possibly work. Yeah, ten years ago we looked like identical twins. But that was ten years ago, and we’ve aged in different ways, most of which in my case have not been kind to my illusion of femininity.

“My damned beard has really thickened up to where it had become almost impossible to hide. My skin, in spite of daily moisturizing, no longer has any kind of feminine glow to it. No matter how hard I try, I’m still going to look like a guy, so how in the hell is this going to work?”

Once I’d finished torturing myself with thoughts of my sister’s hare-brained scheme, I came to the conclusion that I was too tired to even bother getting undressed, so I just curled up on the couch and drifted off to sleep. For some reason, this dream invaded my slumber that night.

I’m standing on stage, playing a really cool solo. As the song progresses, I start to notice things, like what I’m wearing. As things become more clear to me, I realize that I’m wearing a pale pink scoop necked tee with a denim mini skirt, and a pair of leather knee high boots with a spiked heel. Then I notice that my fingernails are painted the same color as the top, and when I start to taste the lipstick, I also notice the rest of the makeup on my face.

I throw my head back as the solo continues and I feel the dangly earrings pull at my lobes. The solo comes to an end, at which point I finally open my eyes to see my sister approaching the microphone, and looking just past the stage lights I can make out an enthusiastic crowd as they applaud my efforts as soloist.

At one point I woke up, shook my head, and said to myself, “It’s been a while since I had one like that.” In order to help clear my head, I got up and headed for the bathroom, where I took care of some necessary functions, then splashed a little water on my face in an attempt to clear the images of my dream from my head. After a few minutes, I returned to the couch and soon find myself drifting back to sleep.

The next thing I knew, it was morning. As I started to wake up, I could hear my sister talking to someone in the other room, and I didn’t know why, but I decided to quietly lay there and eavesdrop.

“I talked to him about it a little last night. I don’t know yet whether he’ll go for it,” I could hear my sister say.

“Oh, come on! We both know that all it’s going to take is a little push in the right direction, and he’ll be ready to abandon ‘he’ for ‘she’ for sure. And as far as we’re concerned, it would save us from having to cancel a few jobs,” said someone who sounded like Shelly.

“That it would, and she’s really good. I don’t know that we would ever be able to find another girl who can play like that,” Jen said as she quietly walked toward the sofa where I was still laying down.

“Hey sleeping beauty, I know you’re awake, so why don’t you get up off your butt so we can get started. It’s going to be a busy day,” she said as she came up behind the couch and smacked my arm as I tried to ignore her and pretend I was still asleep.

I open my eyes, look up at her, and say,” What? Why in the hell do I have to get up? I want to sleep!”

“Well sleepyhead, if we’re going to get you ready to start playing with us, there are a whole lot of things that need to happen,” she said as Shelly came up beside her and joined in staring at me as I slowly wiped the sleep from my eyes.

As I sat up I said, “And who said I had agreed to play with you?” I was going to drag this out a little bit before I gave in. “They can’t know that I’ve decided to do it. No sense in seeming too eager”, I thought.

“Well,” Jen said, “Do you have a lot of alternatives lined up?”

“Um, frankly no. Not at the moment, at least.”

“Good, then that’s settled,” Shelly interjected, then turned around and headed toward the dining room table. Over her shoulder, she added, “You’d best get in here so we can get started.”

I got up from the couch and started walking toward Shelly as I said, “And what exactly do we need to get started with?”

When I got to the dining room I noticed that Shelly was messing with a machine she had set up on the table. I got the feeling that this was for me, and I thought I had an idea what was going to happen.

Shelly sat down in one chair, facing another, with what looked like little electric probes in her hands. “How about we see what we can do with that facial hair? Sit down.”

“Do you know how to use that thing?”

She gave me a look that told me I was treading on thin ice as she replied, “Of course I do. I come from a long line of hairy women. My sisters and I went together a few years ago and bought this kit so we could do each other’s hair removal.”

“So, is this going to hurt?” I have always been a bit of a whiny one, after all.

“Yes,” she answered flatly, “But at least it’ll eventually be over, and then, no more facial hair!”

I realized she was trying to cheer me up, and to be quite honest I should have been jumping up and down with excitement. After all, I had wanted to get electrolysis for a long time, but just couldn’t afford it, plus being on the road made such things difficult.

However, any excitement I might have been experiencing over the impending permanent removal of my unwanted beard was countered by apprehension over my lack in confidence in the skills of my amateur electrologist.

Of course, while my mind wandered through that little landmine, Shelly took the opportunity to get started while I was distracted. I felt her touch my cheek, and then “Yow!” I got zapped with an electric current that took me completely by surprise. It was at that point that I determined that my best course of action was to maintain contact with what was going on around me, so she’d be a lot less likely to surprise me again.

This torture session went on for what seemed like about three days, but was in reality just under two hours, at which point she declared that she’d done about as much for one day as would be possible, so she rubbed a soothing lotion on my face as the tenseness in my shoulders and upper back began to finally relax.

“With the amount of hair you have, this will take some time. We’ll keep at it, maybe do a couple of hours every couple of days, and see where we’re at after the first few treatments.”

“So what you’re saying is that I have a lot more of this to look forward to?”

“That’s about the size of it, girl friend.”

I looked her in the eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask my next question before finally just blurting it out. “So, why go to all this trouble for me? What’s in it for you?” There, I asked it. Now let’s see what her answer is.

She looked at me trying to figure out if my question was serious, or just the male part of me being a jerk. When she did respond, I could tell that she had decided I was serious. “If we’re going to be playing clubs together, I’d like for you to look as good as possible, that’s why. It’s not like we’re trying to convert a total newbie here.”

“We all know you’ve been more woman than man most of your life. I’m just trying to help you make the rest of the journey. Your sister is my best friend, and that practically makes us family in my book. I’m not doing anything for you that I wouldn’t do for any of my other sisters.”

“Well, I really do appreciate it. I’ve thought about having this done for years, but never could put the time and money together at the same time. Thank you,” I said as a tear started rolling down my cheek.

Jen jumped in and said, “Hey, none of that. You may be my sister, but there’s no call for getting all girly on us right this minute.” She said it in jest, of course, but it had the desired effect nonetheless, which was to stop me from balling my eyes out, costing us valuable time in our preparations for my debut with ‘Starlust’, which was now a mere four days away. And I hadn’t even played any of their material yet. Sheesh.

Shelly then said, “Listen Jill, go take a bath, shave your legs, and hurry up about it. The band will be here for rehearsal in about an hour.”

“On my way,” I said as I headed for the bathroom. I took care of my assigned tasks, more quickly than I would have liked, and then proceeded to dry my hair.

After that, I went into Jen’s room and got dressed. It was great to not have to squish down my little but obvious breasts by wearing a far too small sports bra. I did have a couple of nice ones, that I unfortunately had not really had the chance to wear before now, and I was darn well going to take advantage of the opportunity.

Underwear sorted, I knew this was neither the time nor place to dress up, so I just pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, then slipped on a pair of sandals. I did decide to put on just a touch of makeup…nothing flashy, just a little eyeliner and lipstick, but it felt so good to actually be able to do even that much after so many months in hiding.

About the time I emerged from the bedroom, the rest of the band started showing up. I had met all of them a long time ago, but who knew what their reaction to playing with Jill was going to be?

The first one I encountered was Annie, the bass player. We had actually worked together years ago in a top 40 band, but apparently Jen had filled everyone in on my situation, because the first words out of her mouth were, “Hey Jill. Long time, huh?” She then gave me a hug, and I knew that at least for today, everything was going to be all right.

Last to show up was Sarah, the keyboard player. Other than Shelly, whose drums were all ready set up, she had the least to do to get ready for practice, since her stuff was also set up in the rehearsal room and all she had to do was throw a switch and start playing.

It seems I would be the last one ready, but that was partly because I wasn’t sure which setup to use. I’d spent the last year and a half playing my country rig, obviously, which was a Telecaster with a Fender Twin Reverb, plus my PodXT for effects.

Now, for the first time in years, I was actually going to be playing heavy rock, and I had a few decisions to make. The easy one was the amp…it had to be my old Marshall Bluesbreaker. The only action it had seen in years was when Jen borrowed it a couple of times because her ’59 Bassman was in the shop, but I plugged it in, turned on the standby, and the tubes lit up, so I was a happy girl.

Obviously I was going to need the Line 6 Pod, but when it came to the guitar, I was in a quandary. The last time I got to play rock, I used this Yamaha neck through body Strat that sounds killer, but at this point looks a little dated, because of this very 80’s looking pointy headstock that nobody uses anymore.

The other choices were the hated Tele, and an old Gibson Les Paul Custom that I love like a member of the family, but generally don’t play much because it hurts my shoulder from the weight. In the end, I grabbed the Yamaha, tuned up and plugged in, and I was ready to roll.

Jen walked up to the microphone, which was hooked up to the monitor setup, and said, “I think everyone knows Jill. She’s consented to play with us, which is guaranteed to sound better than the last several guitar players we’ve suffered through.” There was a ripple of giggles that went through the room even though there wasn’t really anything funny said, then she called the first tune. “Sweet Child of Mine in A. One, two, three, four…”

I played the ever so familiar opening, and found that everything fell into place quickly. Not like perfect or anything, but certainly workable. We had four days to put together four hours worth of music, so perfect just was not going to happen. Since they’d all been playing together for a long time, and I knew what I needed to do, the morning went pretty smoothly, right up until it was time to start in on some of the band’s originals.

We took a break for everyone to grab something to drink and then returned to the rehearsal room. I couldn’t resist any longer, and asked, “What’s next?”

Jen looked at the others and said, “Guess it’s as good a time as any to take a stab at the stuff from the CD.” With that, Sarah reached over to her rack and started the CD player that she often used at gigs in between sets, in the clubs that didn’t have a DJ.

‘Starlust’ had done one CD, about six months ago, of all original material, most of which were songs Jen and I had written together a couple of years back when we were taking what I had thought was one last stab at playing in a band together. They sold it at gigs and in local music stores, and had actually had to order a second run from the Disc Factory because they ran out of the first batch.

I had of course heard it several times, as the first thing Jen did when they got the initial run back from pressing was send me one by overnight so I could hear it. It was pretty good, and I’m not just saying that.

The first song was called “Politics of Love”, and had the coolest Led Zeppelin kind of groove that you couldn’t help but boogie to when you heard it. I listened intently to the recording so I knew the roadmap they had laid out, and then was ready to give it a try.

You told me your secrets, and I told you mine
But now it seems lately we don’t have the time
We’ve been goin’ round in circles, lost in the rain
Lookin’ for some answers to what’s runnin’ round in my brain

As the song moved into the first chorus, I could feel a rising intensity that struck me as so cool. I couldn’t help but think that I wished I’d thought to write it like that.

Now what can I do, and what can I say
To bring you back to me
I’ve never understood how the politics of love
Can change the way you think and feel and what you do about it…

In between the end of the chorus and the next verse, it was my first chance to show off a little, the way they had laid the song out. For a moment I felt like I’d been possessed by the spirit of Jimi Hendrix or something, because what was coming out of my amp didn’t sound like anything I ever remembered playing before, and when I looked over at Jen, I could tell that she was thinking the same thing.

I kept all your secrets, but you told most of mine
I knew we had problems, but I thought that in time
We could make it better, work it out, alright
I don’t mean to mislead you, but can’t you stay one more night?

I was finally starting to feel comfortable enough with the song that I looked around at my new band mates, and if the impression I was getting was accurate, I guessed they liked what I was doing so far, because everyone was sort of half smiling with this half spaced out look on their faces, like musicians sometimes get when things fall in the groove and they start really enjoying the music. I know I was really starting to enjoy this experience.

Now what can I do, and what can I say
To bring you back to me
I’ve never understood how the politics of love
Can change the way you think and feel and what you do about it…

Following the second chorus, it was my place to ‘shine’, as the good ol’ boys I had recently been playing with would say. The song was turned over to me to solo out to the end, a la Hotel California. While I sort of had some ideas about what I wanted to play, they were going to take some working out, so I just sort of jammed out for a minute before signaling everyone that we should wrap things up. The ending would have been pretty tight, if it hadn’t been for me screwing things up.

Of course, the girls had it down, but I was half lost and sounded like it in my opinion despite how I was feeling about the song as a whole, which can be embarrassing when you’re playing your own songs. So we then listened to it again, and tried playing it again after that. It went much better, but still wasn’t where I’d like it to be.

Not wanting to waste the others’ time any more than I already had, I said, “Why don’t I sit down with the CD and work out my parts tonight, then we can try playing them tomorrow?” That idea was greeted with mostly affirmative responses, so we then moved back to the cover stuff. Some Fleetwood Mac, Pat Benatar, Cheryl Crow, not to mention about half a dozen Allanis Morrissette tunes dominated the afternoon, so that by the end of the day we had about two hours worth of stuff we felt comfortable enough with to plan on it being on the set list for our first gig.

While everyone was shutting down their gear, Jen went and ordered pizza for everyone to be delivered, so it turned into a girls night in, which didn’t wind down until late into the evening, when first Sarah, then Annie and Shelly all headed out so they could get some sleep before heading into work in the morning.

That left just Jen and I alone, well after midnight but neither of us sleepy in the least. We were sitting on the sofa having a little wine when Jen asked, “So, what did you think? Want to stick around a while?”

I was taken aback mostly because I figured it was more up to them than me whether or not I became a permanent member of the band, so I really wasn’t sure what to say at first. I did finally remember how to make some sound that vaguely resembled speech, and said, “I’m in if you’ll have me.”

“I think that’s a given, don’t you?” Jen retorted.

“How many of the originals do you usually do on a job?” I was curious what the ratio was. I’d played in several groups that had their own CD’s out, but most of them only played one or two songs from the disc when they played live, because they wanted to stay as familiar as they could.

“It depends on how well received the first one or two of the evening are. If they go over big, then we might expand and do as many as eight or nine of the songs live, whereas if they’re not well received, we’ll limit to two or three.”

“Gee, that was informative, sis.”

“You did ask.”

Exasperated, I finally said, “So I guess you’re telling me I should get to know all of them, huh?”

“Couldn’t hurt, and considering they’re mostly your songs it shouldn’t be all that hard either,” she giggled as she made her escape from within my reach, anticipating my playful attempt at a punch in the arm.

Okay, so I guess my late night was planned for me. It took me a few minutes to gather up everything I would need, but once I had my laptop, my guitarport, headphones, and my trusty Yamaha, I started working out the guitar parts for all the songs on the CD.

It really didn’t take all that long, and after a couple of hours, I felt like I knew them about as well as I was going to without playing them live with the band a few times. After getting everything put away, I changed into my nightie, tied my hair up with a scrunchie, and laid down on the sofa. I must have been tired, because I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow.

The next morning, I was again awakened by the sounds of Shelly and Jen talking loudly enough that I was sure their intent was to wake me. So I rolled out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got myself dressed casually again. When I came into the kitchen, I found the evil conspirators plotting my fate.

It seemed Shelly had decided that although she didn’t want to zap my face again today, she was most definitely interested in playing with her hair gun again, and decided to attack my chest hair this morning. Thankfully, there wasn’t all that much to begin with, and what there was had long since been lightened by the hormonal assault, so about an hour later, the torture session ended with her declaration that my front upper torso appeared to be pretty much hair free.

This was actually the first time either of them had seen me unclothed since I had started on the hormones, so they were a little surprised to see that I actually had almost B cups jutting out from my chest. They were pretty much silent during the electrolysis treatment, but once that was over, Jen decided she’d waited long enough.

“So, sister mine, I see you’ve done a little remodeling.”

As I slipped my top back on, I replied, “Well I wasn’t going to run around flat chested for the rest of my life like Annie, was I?”

This earned me a slap on the arm from Shelly, but a giggle from Jennifer. Just then, Annie arrived for rehearsal, followed closely by Sarah, and we were once again back at work.

We started with a run through of the original stuff, all of which sounded much better than any of them would have, had we tried them the day before. This made me pleased with our progress, thinking that maybe we would get through this after all. After a repeat of “Politics of Love”, which was one of my contributions, we did another one of mine, called “Let Go of Yesterday”, which sounded like it could have been lifted off of a Pink Floyd album.

Since working on the stuff from the CD had consumed most of the morning, we decided to take a little lunch break, then hit it hard again after about an hour total away from our instruments. First up was Natalie Merchant’s “Wonder”, which isn’t exactly hard rock, but we all love the song, so there.

We whipped through a few Avril Lavigne tunes, then got a little off the beaten path, for girl groups at least, by breaking out “With or Without You”, Van Halen’s “Jump”, and a personal favorite of mine, Stone Temple Pilots’ “Plush”.

The last song on the agenda this day was Janet Jackson’s “Black Cat”, which we played the heck out of on the first try, then decided we’d worked hard enough for one day and the girls packed up their toys and went home, leaving Jen and I alone for the evening.

After a bite of dinner, we thought we’d have a quiet night just the two of us playing together like we did when we were kids, so we each went and got our acoustic guitars…me my Epiphone J-200 and her an Ibanez Artwood that was the same body style as the one Clapton played on his MTV Unplugged special.

We found ourselves going back over some of our older originals…the ones that were too mellow to make the cut with the band. We wound up jamming all evening long, until her cell phone rang and we realized it was nearly midnight, so deciding that getting a little rest before the next day’s rehearsal, we got ready for bed and told each other good night with a nice sisterly hug. Just like the night before, by the time I lay down, I was already nearly unconscious.

Tuesday morning came way too early for this old guitar player, as Jen and Shelly practically jumped on top of me to wake me up. I guess Shelly was going to start in with round two of the facial electrolysis, so I got out of bed like a good girl, and prepared myself for another morning of pain.

Following my two hour shock therapy session, I headed into the bathroom for my shower, where I decided it had been a few days since I shaved my legs, and this seemed as good a time as any. That done, I dried my hair and got dressed, deciding today to be a little more girly. After my bra and panties were on, I never really had enough to need a gaff, I opted for a cute little t-shirt that I’ve owned for a long time but never really had the chance to wear much for obvious reasons, and a short denim skirt with flat sandals. Casual, but feminine. A little touch of makeup…after all, it was just the girls coming over to practice, not much need to tart up or anything…and I was ready to rock, And just in time, as the others showed up as I was exiting the bathroom.

Once practice got rolling, we decided that we should go through and figure out the set list for the gig. This served the dual purpose of making sure everyone was on the same page, and in case anyone (as in me) felt uncomfortable with any of the songs on the list, we could run through them again to try and iron out any rough spots.

It made for a full day, even though we really only played a few songs, but around 5 rehearsal broke up for the day, again leaving Jen and I alone for a sister’s night in. Tonight’s plan? A chick flick fest on TV, toenail painting, and salty snacks followed by chocolate ice cream. Sort of like a slumber party for two.

Wednesday I surprised my torturer by being up and showered before she showed up at our door. Knowing what was on the docket for the morning, I didn’t bother getting fully dressed after my shower, instead donning just panties and a robe.

She had me lay face down and proceeded to zap back hair, which I wasn’t entirely aware I had. But, she swore on Janis Joplin’s grave it was there, and since I believe in being thorough in all things, I let her inflict her abuse on me once again. As she was wrapping up for the day, she looked at me and said, “Ya know, we may be able to finish off your face in just a few more treatments.”

With enough sarcasm dripping from my words that a small child could have drowned, I said, “Great!” got up and went and got dressed. Practical was the order of the day because we were going to have to load into the club that afternoon, so jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers would be my uniform until show time.

Shelly it seemed owned the band’s PA system, not to mention the only van in the group, so it was pressed into service for equipment hauling. It took about half an hour to tear down everything that was set up in the rehearsal room, then another half hour to haul it out and get it loaded around the rest of the PA.

Then we all piled into cars, me riding with Jen, and headed out to the club. An hour and a half later, we were loaded in, set up, and ready for a quick sound check before we headed back home to get dressed for tonight. We played bits and pieces of three or four songs, and declared everything ready.

Back at Jen’s house, I found myself having a heck of a time figuring what to wear. For a moment, I thought to myself, “Why the hell am I having so much trouble? I never had any difficulty picking out what to wear on stage before.”

Then it occurred to me that I’d never intentionally tried to pass as a girl when playing before. This was a whole new world, and as exciting as I was finding it, I was also scared thoughtless, which might have had something to do with my inability to make up my mind concerning clothing.

I had finally narrowed the choices down to three different outfits, all of which were laid out on Jennifer’s bed. She came in the room to grab her shoes, having long since gotten dressed herself, since she obviously had a clue what she was doing unlike me, and reached down and grabbed one of the outfits and handed it to me, saying, “See, it wasn’t that difficult, was it?” After that, she grabbed her shoes out of the closet and left the room, leaving me standing there holding the outfit she had just selected for me.

I finally returned to some level of consciousness and started getting dressed. The outfit in question wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d expect a rock chick to wear, but then I’m not exactly what you’d call a rock chick, so after taking off the filthy t-shirt and jeans I’d worn for setup, I pulled on a different, more low cut t-shirt and a pair of overall shorts, the result being nice but casual.

My next quandary had to do with shoes. I only owned four pairs of girl shoes…a pair of pink and white sneakers, flat sandals, a pair of wedged sandals, and black high heeled pumps. Having momentarily regained use of my brain, I decided that I would have to be an idiot to wear the pumps with this outfit, even if I weren’t going to be on my feet for four hours plus, so they were easy enough to eliminate from the running. I didn’t really like the sneakers with this outfit under any circumstances, and I actually wanted to look good tonight, so contestant number two down. Finally it came to me that the flats were just too casual, so the wedges it was. They dressed up the outfit just a little without looking out of place…a perfect choice.

As I was entering the bathroom to use the mirror to apply my makeup, which obviously was going to be more pronounced that I would normally wear because we were going to be up on stage, Jen was just applying the finishing touches to hers, and she looked great. I said, “Maybe I don’t need any makeup at all. It’s not like anyone is going to be looking my way with you standing in front of me.”

She acted like she was going to punch me in the arm, then said, “That may be, but no sister of mine is going on stage looking like a washed out ghost. Need any help?”

“I’d appreciate you letting me know if anything needs changed once I’m done. Despite the fact I’m older than you, you’re a lot more experienced with female war paints.” She left the bathroom, leaving me to my task.

A few minutes later, I called her to come offer opinions, and she quickly said if anything, I was a little too understated. I tried to explain that I wasn’t really in a position to want to attract a man, so maybe understated was a good idea. She seemed a bit skeptical, but didn’t press the issue further.

We drove back to the club, entering through the back and met with the other girls in the storage room that had been temporarily assigned double duty as a dressing room of sorts, because it could be locked for storage of purses and such. At this point, we hadn’t seen what the crowd was like, but from where we were it sounded like they were large in numbers or enthusiasm, one or the other.

Shelly looked at me and said, “Ready for this?”

I let out a nervous laugh, then said, “I suppose.”

Jen jumped in, “Don’t buy the shy little girl thing. She’s ready.”

With that, we exited the back room and headed toward the stage. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, I happened to glance at the front row of tables, and suffered the shock of my life. Sitting there was Dave, the drummer from the country band I had just quit. I was trying to hide behind the PA speaker stack as Jen came up behind me and asked, “What’s wrong?”

I leaned close so she could hear and said, “See that guy sitting at that table up front? The one with all the empties sitting there?” I tried to peek around the speakers without him seeing me.

“Yeah, so?”

“He was the drummer in the band I just quit!” I hissed in her ear, trying to emphasize just how certain I was that my life was about to end.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, intending it to be supportive and at the same time prodding me on stage so we could start the set.

In as feminine a gait as I had ever been able to use, I followed my sister on stage and picked up my guitar. I tried my hardest not to look at Dave, instead turning around to look at Shelly, who was starting to count us in to our first song. “One, two, three four!”

Notes:

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