Sometimes those outside looking in know us better than we know ourselves. The life they choose for us would never be the one we would admit to wanting. Much less having the courage to follow. A push in the right direction places us on the path we will follow for the rest of our lives. Those who share that path have their lives enriched at the same time.

Copyright 2014

Broken Cup

I worked for Wafco. It was a New York company that made gas line fittings. You know, the flared fittings that connect your washer, water heater, stove and other gas appliances to the gas line. Okay, the barbecue grill to the propane tank is one of those connections we make. There are literally over two thousand different fittings and gas line connectors our company manufacturers or carries. A lot of them are made overseas but that’s the way business is done in the USA now.

Good salesmen are given the job of making trade shows when a wholesaler is pushing sales. Jim Link was a heck of a salesman. He was full of shuck and jive. When he was telling it, most people believed him. I think Jim believed it himself which probably made him even better. If any of Wafco’s customers had a problem they could call Jim and receive an answer. It might be the wrong answer but Jim always had an answer no matter what the circumstances.

That spring, Jim and I were handed the dubious honor of making the trade show circuit starting in Springfield, Missouri and ending up in San Diego, California. Of course we were going to hit every major city along the way at the rate of one every day. That meant we had to hit the city, set up our booth, display the company products, pass out literature, answer ten thousand questions, and be friendly to everyone. About five every evening we would pack up the van , hit the road to the next city, check in the motel, and be up by five the next morning to set up our booth and do it all over again. It was a killer of a schedule. Our boss Merle Ackland thought it was a reward to his good salesmen to go on the road trip. I know he wouldn’t have thought that if he had ever done one himself.

Jim and I had our display and wares shipped out to Springfield. We flew out and leased a van to start our bruiser of a cross country trip. The first few cities are always a learning curve. Springfield and Tulsa were par for the course. We were late getting set up and failed to find or unpack some of our literature along with some special fittings some of our wholesalers wanted to know about. Amarillo wasn’t that bad. We were finally finding our groove. We had everything out ready to pump the sale when our wholesalers asked about gas lines or fittings.

I was loading up the van after the show in Amarillo when I noticed we had a flat on the left rear. Jim was pushing boxes into the van. I took a deep breath knowing we would have to unload some of it to get to the spare. “Who’s turn is it to drive?”

“Yours. Why do you ask?” Jim’s voice carried through the van as he pushed to find a spot for his box.

“Darn, I was afraid you would say that. Pull it out and let me get the spare. I was thinking if it was your turn then I would let you change the tire.” I moved up behind him to start unpacking boxes.

Jim backed up empty handed. “Let’s call service and let them fix the darn thing. We don’t want to be on the road without a spare. That trip from Oklahoma City to here looked long and empty. I didn’t see a whole lot of places to fix a tire in the middle of the night. I bet there aren’t that many more in the daytime. If Amarillo to Tucumcari is as bad or worse then we might as well be on the moon if something breaks or quits.”

I nodded in agreement. I hadn’t thought about calling for service. “You have that Triple A number?”

Jim pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “That’s one number I memorized before leaving home.”

I guess if one is home or doesn’t have to drive to the next city down the highway, it wouldn’t matter how long it took to get on the road. Problem was, we had a long drive ahead of us that night. Although Triple A came through for us, it took over forty minutes for the service truck to show up. It took another fifty minutes for the guy to jack up the van, pull the tire, fix it, and put it back on. It took another twenty minutes to fill out the forms, sign the tickets, get it signed off on the company credit card and get on the road. It promised to be a long drive and a short nap if any at the motel before we had to set up our booth in Tucumcari the next morning. We had been on the road for four days. I was already burnt out.

We were in the van headed west. I was wondering if any place to eat in Tucumcari would be open by the time we arrived? I was positive after looking at the vast wasteland between Oklahoma City and Amarillo there weren’t going to be any places in between. I glanced over at Jim. “Another burger?”

“I guess I can handle it. Be better than nothing. You see a place?” Jim was looking down the highway for a burger joint.

“Not yet.” I was scanning for signs along the interstate as I checked traffic and maneuvered to the outside lane. I wanted to be ready to hit an exit if we saw a burger place.

Five miles later we left the main part of Amarillo behind. Neither one of us had seen any places that served hamburgers or any food for that matter. I kicked the van up to seventy four and punched the cruise control. “Rats, any of those cookies left we bought at noon?”

“We ate all of them for lunch. Let me see what’s in the cooler.” Jim reached over the seat and pushed boxes away from the ice chest.

He turned back around in the seat and held up a Dr. Pepper. “Ice is gone and it’s hot. You want it? That’s all we have.”

“Hot pop? I’ll pass. Surely there will be a gas station along the way.” I was thinking tonight would be a candy bar and another cold soda for supper. If the steady diet of soda and candy didn’t make me sick it would wreck havoc on my body and probably give me an ulcer. I wondered how long it would take? A week? A month?

Jim slid down in the seat and closed his eyes. “Call me for dinner mom.”

“Yeah, count on it.” I sighed as I let my mind wander. I tried to think about other things besides the pain in my stomach and my tired butt.

Almost two hours later it was dark city. Cars on the interstate had thinned out to few and far in between and still no sign of a service station from the time we had left Amarillo. I was double glad we had fueled up that morning after leaving the motel and before the trade show. Still, I wasn’t positive we could make Tucumcari on one tank of gas.

The van coughed and things went silent.

Jim rose up in the seat wiping his eyes. “What you stopping for?”

“Engine quit.” I was edging over to the shoulder.

“You’re kidding aren’t you!” Leaning over, Jim was scouring the instrument panel and checking to make sure the key was still in the ignition and turned on.

“Wish I were.” We coasted to a stop. I tried starting the engine but it never caught even though the starter was grinding away.

A couple minutes later I gave up. I was mumbling curses as I slid out, walked up to the front of the van, and popped the hood. “This can’t be happening. See if your phone works out here. Call us some help.”

“I’ve heard of guys running out of gas on their dates before. I want you to know this is the last time I’m going out with you.” Jim was punching numbers into his phone.

“Up yours.” I raised the hood. I have no idea what I thought I would find. I guess it’s human nature to raise the hood when the engine quits. Who the hell would know why an engine quit unless it dropped out of the car? I have seen mechanics with their truck load of tools and instruments not figure out why an engine quit until they had worked on it for a day or two.

I was looking at an engine. Obviously the engine didn’t drop out some place back down the interstate. I pulled on one of the wires leading down beside the engine. “Turn it over.”

The starter was cranking but again, nothing. I looked into the van at Jim. “It isn’t starting.”

Jim quit trying as he shook his head. “No lie Sherlock! Did you figure that one out all on your own or did you have help?”

“Up yours Ace!” I looked up and saw some lights slowing down and pulling over on the shoulder back down the road.

“You said that already. You need a larger vocabulary. By the way, nothing on the phone. Try your phone. Maybe you have a longer reach.” He slid back over into his passenger seat.

“Mine is dead. It stopped taking a charge. I think the battery is gone or something. I think we may have help. I see lights coming our way.” I walked up beside the van and closed my door to keep anyone from taking it off if they happen to get too close.

“I hope it’s not someone going to rob us.” Jim turned around in the seat to check out the lights as they stopped about thirty feet back.

Red and blue started flashing on top the car that had stopped as a couple of spotlights lit us up.

I looked over at Jim. “If they are going to rob us then they sure are brazen about it. I think we have the police. Hope their radio works. They can call us in a tow.”

“Trouble?” A silhouette stepped in front of the lights.

All I could make out was the outline of a huge man wearing a cowboy hat with what appeared to be a gun hanging down on his side. “Engine died. Can you call us a tow?”

“Ten nine, I have a six eight at two four. Request tow.” The silhouette was walking toward me as he was talking.

“Lightstick is two miles behind you Carl. He is in his wrecker. Said he would stop and give a tow if that’s okay.” Came from a speaker inside the patrol car.

The silhouette turned into a man wearing a uniform and a badge as he stepped up beside the van. “Jimmy said he would stop if you want. Unless you have a preference and want me to call someone in particular?”

I shook my head. “No one in particular. It’s a rental van from Hertz. Can your man charge it to Hertz or we have a company credit card if he accepts Visa or Master Charge?”

“I’m sure he can charge Hertz. He is authorized to work with most of the rental agencies.” He leaned down to look inside the van at Jim. “Where you boys out of?”

“New York. We work for Wafco. Been working trade shows the past five days. We finished Amarillo today and were headed to Tucumcari to do another one tomorrow.” I watched as a huge wrecker slowed and pulled over on the shoulder in front of our van.

The thing was big. I was positive that wrecker could pick up a battleship. Blue, yellow, and red lights came on across the top of the thing. Spotlights came on and lit up the whole neighborhood. “What is that?”

The officer laughed. “Overkill, I imagine. That’s Jimmy. He was called out earlier to pick up an over turned semi. They slid it up on a flatbed and took it on in to Amarillo.”

A guy opened the door and climbed down the side of the wrecker. He walked up to me and held out his hand. “I’m Jimmy. What seems to be the trouble?”

I took his hand for a handshake. “Don’t know. Driving down the road and it quit like I turned the key off. Won’t start.”

He glanced at the van. “Last years model. The ECM burned out on you. They were bad. Should have been replaced on a recall bulletin. I’m surprised they sent you boys out on the road without checking to make sure the ECM had been changed out.”

“ECM?” I was wondering if this was scam? How could he diagnose the problem just by looking at the van? And what the hell was an ECM? Probably some make believe thing and the van probably didn’t really have one.

“Sorry, electronic control module. It’s the computer that tells your engine how much fuel it should be using. When it quits then the fuel is shut off. It’s like you turned off the switch. Sound familiar?” Jimmy turned around and wrapped his hands around a couple knobs inside a box at the back of his wrecker. A sling started unreeling as a couple plates came down and settled on the pavement.

He pulled a cable out from his wrecker and laid down on the pavement in front of the van. “Take it out of park please.”

Jim reached across and dropped the shift out of park. “Got it.”

Jimmy stood up behind his wrecker and reached into that box again. The cable tightened up and the van was pulled up onto the plate behind the wrecker.

It was obvious the guy had done this a kazillion times already. I don’t think he missed a beat as he wrapped a net around each front tire and slowly raised the plate off the ground taking the front of the van up about a foot. “Got it. You ridding with me or with Carl?”

The officer shook his head. “I have some rustlers working M Bar Four. I’m going to mossy down that way and see if I can’t head them off at the pass tonight.”

I looked at Jim who was blinking as he looked back at me. We didn’t know if these two were trying to lay it on thick because we said we were from New York or what? Maybe we were in the west and maybe there were rustlers? Somehow I didn’t buy it and from the look on Jim’s face, neither did he.

“I guess we are ridding with you.” I pointed toward the wrecker.

“Let’s go then. Climb in.” Jimmy was headed toward his cab.

When Jimmy said ‘climb in’ I found it was more than a figure of speech. Jim and I did climb up and up and up before we reached the cab of that wrecker to open the door and slid in.

The ride wasn’t as bad as I figured it would be in a big truck as Jimmy took to the highway. We traveled down the interstate for about half an hour and then turned off on an exit ramp with a sign pointing north. It had Clious printed on the sign.

I looked over at Jim. “What is a Clious?”

He shook his head. “I was going to ask the same question.”

“Small town about ten miles north. It’s where my shop is.” Our driver was smiling and shaking his head at our ignorance.

“Funny name. Anyway, do you have the part for our van? Can you get us back on the road tonight?” I was trying to figure out how late we were going to be making Tucumcari.

“You couldn’t get that part anywhere tonight. All the warehouses and part stores are closed now. I’ll fax it in to Custer Auto Parts when we get to the shop. Their pickers will pull it out of the warehouse and hand it to Wanda. She is an overland UPS driver. Makes the drive from Albuquerque to Amarillo every week day. She will stop and check her rig at the interstate exit and leave your ECM module in a drop box there. Be about six when she goes by. I’ll have Terry or one of the others pick it up and bring it to the shop. You’ll be ready to roll about six thirty if you are so inclined.” He picked up speed as he took the middle of the blacktop pavement.

I signed. “I guess it will have to do. I don’t see an alternative. Calling for another van would take longer because we can’t call one out before eight tomorrow morning. They would have to drive it out here from Amarillo or Tucumcari, whichever is closest.”

Jim was shaking his head in agreement. “This Clious have a motel?”

“No. Sue takes in boarders when necessary. She has a big house a couple hundred feet down from my shop. Clious is small. Because we are off the interstate we don’t get many visitors. There is a general store where everyone hangs out. They have a few pool tables, serve a decent meal at times, and that is just about it as far as anything interesting.” Jimmy reached up to the dash and turned off all his flashing lights that had been going from the time he stopped on the interstate.

Minutes later I was shocked by what I didn’t see as we slowed down and pulled past a sign that read, Clious. I was looking at a whole lot of nothing. There were about forty or fifty houses spread out on both sides of the highway we were on. That was bad enough but the highway quit on the other side of the town. I could make out Jimmy’s shop. It was a standout with all the vehicles scattered around it. Besides, it was the only building big enough to allow the big wrecker we were riding inside the building.

I looked over at Jim who was shaking his head in disbelief. “Great town.”

We passed a building with a big window in front. It had to be the general store. There were a bunch of people inside and six sitting outside on a bench leaning back against the building. There was one lone gas pump out front. “I hope they are still serving meals.”

“Oh don’t worry. They will serve you any time of day or night. It’s the closest thing to a twenty four hour store between Amarillo and Albuquerque.” Jim pulled up in front of his shop and killed his rig.

“Six thirty?” I wanted to make sure we were on the road as soon as possible.

“Give or take five minutes.” He pointed down the street toward a two story house. “Stop and see Sue first. She will need to know she has guests before she turns out the lights. Then mossy on down to the general store and find something to eat. Judy makes a wicked hot beef sandwich or a chicken fry that will melt in your mouth.”

“I can’t wait to get back and tell everyone I stayed at Clious, New Mexico.” Jim was climbing down out of the truck as he was muttering to himself.

“Behave and be nice. It’s certainly better than sleeping in the van on the interstate.” I followed him down out of the truck.

“I guess.” Jim was pulling his suitcase out of the van.

I retrieved my suitcase and followed him to the two story house. After I knocked on the door I was taken back by the black haired Indian girl that answered. She was slender built and had more beauty than what should have been allowed one woman.

“Jimmy called and told me to expect you. I’m Sue. Come on in and refresh yourselves.” She backed up from the door and pointed down a hallway.

“Uh…, I’m not carrying a whole lot of cash. I don’t guess you can accept credit cards?” I had no idea how we were going to pay for our rooms. I didn’t think she would let us stay with the promise to mail her back a money order.

She laughed and it brightened the room. “We live on the same planet as everyone else. Believe it or not, I can accept a credit card. The rooms are ten dollars a night. You can share a room or have separate rooms if you like.”

“I like the way you talk.” I was fishing in my pocket for my billfold and credit cards. Wafco was going to pay for two rooms tonight.

Half an hour later, Jim and I were walking down the street toward the general store. The same six men were still sitting in front. They were Indians too. I glanced over at Jim. He eyed me back and shrugged his shoulders. I guess we were expecting something other than a town full of Indians.

The inside of the general store was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. There were eight pool tables lined up going way back. Those tables were occupied with boys and girls and men and women playing pool. All Indians. Over on my left were ten round dining tables. There were two couples at one and a family of four at another. Again, all Indians. Back behind them was a bar where a couple more Indians were drinking.

Jim leaned over in my direction and whispered. “I know what Custer felt like before he died.”

Shssssss. Sue said they live on the same planet. Be nice. Remember we took their country away from them and shoved what was left of them onto reservations. They owned this land first.” I headed for an empty table. I wanted some of that food Jimmy was talking about.

After we found our seats, an Indian princess walked up to our table. She was every bit as stunning and beautiful as Sue. “What’ll it be gentlemen?”

I knew it was on Jim’s tongue to say, “I’ll have you.” So I jumped in first. “Jimmy said you make a wicked chicken fry.”

“Good choice.” She turned to Jim. “And you?”

I shook my head as Jim opened his mouth. “He’ll have the same as me.”

“Saved by your friend.” She gave Jim a slight nod.

“What would you like to drink?” She turned her attention back to me.

“What’s good for a couple of tired salesmen?” I was hoping for more than a coke.

She pointed back over her shoulder toward the bar. “A cactus twister will make you forget how bad you feel or a coyote will sneak up on you without you feeling a thing.”

“I’ll have that cactus twister.” I had no idea what I had just ordered but the princess made it sound good.

“I’ll have a coyote.” Jim was devouring our waitress with his eyes.

“Coming up.” She walked behind the bar and set one tall skinny glass and one short fat one up on the bar. I watched as she poured a lot of different things into both glasses. I was thinking it was a mix of whiskey and vermouth and a lot of other things but I was probably mistaken.

She slipped one of those funky little umbrellas on top of each glass before bringing them back. She set the fat glass down in front of me and the skinny one in front of Jim. “Chicken fry will be out in a minute.”

I took a sip of my drink as I watched her retreat. I would almost swear I had pricked my tongue with a thousand needles. It didn’t hurt but it was an odd sensation. I could understand why they called it a cactus twister. The odd thing was, it didn’t taste like alcohol. I was wondering what it was made of?

Jim took a sip of his after he dropped the umbrella on the table. “Mine is coke or something. There isn’t any alcohol in it.”

“Enjoy it and don’t say anything. She didn’t say it was an alcoholic drink.” I took another sip and received a repeat of the same thousand needles sensation. How did it do that?

The princess brought out our plates. They were stacked up with mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and a huge battered steak. It was a truck drivers plate. She set the plates down and left. Almost immediately she was back with hot rolls and salad bowls heaped up with crisp tossed salads and a mix of salad dressings. My stomach was dying to get a chance to digest something besides a greasy burger.

“Thank you.” I didn’t care what it cost. I was going to enjoy every bite.

“I’ll be there if you need anything.” She walked over to one of the pool tables and picked up a cue.

I could hear three or four balls hit the pockets when she took her shot. I looked up at Jim and mumbled past a mouth full of salad. “Remind me not to play pool with any of these people.”

“I can take her.” Jim mumbled back past his bite of steak.

Some time that night my lights dimmed. I don’t remember when. Maybe I ate my meal or maybe not. What I remember in my fogged over brain was very little past that third sip of cactus twister. Whatever was in that drink should be labeled unsafe for the white man. If those Indians drank that stuff without it killing them then why did they ever lose the country? They could give it to the white man and ship them all back to Europe or where ever after they passed out.

Jim faired no better with his coyote drink. I think I remember Jim offering to play the Indian Princess a game of pool? I think I remember her beating him? I think I remember something about a bet on the next game? I think I remember her beating him again. And the game after that and the one after that, and the one…, I think I remember or maybe I don’t?

I was listening to a damn rooster crow in my ear when I started remembering again. The sun wasn’t peeking over the horizon yet. I pried an eye open and looked at the clock. It was a little after six. I rose out of bed and dressed feeling remarkably fresh and wondering if I was dreaming about Jim and the Indian Princess or what? Some how I made it back to Sue’s and found a bed in spite of not remembering what I was trying to remember last night.

I could hear Jim moving in the room next to mine. I slipped out into the hall and tapped on his door. “You up?”

“Yep, almost packed, meet me at the van in five minutes.” Came from the other side of the door.

“You got it.” I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.

“Pancakes will make that trip a little easier.” Came from down the hall.

I could smell them when Sue mentioned pancakes. “Sure.”

Following my nose, I headed for the kitchen. Sue placed a plate of pancakes on the table as I walked in.

“Help yourself. There is plenty.” She was dishing up some more on another plate as Jim walked into the kitchen.

“I thought I heard someone say pancakes.” Jim pulled up a chair and forked a couple pancakes over on his plate.

“Jim, mind your manners. Thank our hostess for our breakfast before you start.” I admonished as Jim reached for the syrup and butter.

“Thank you.” Jim never hesitated as he knifed the butter and slathered his pancakes.

“Sue, my ill mannered friend and I thank you for breakfast this morning. It was totally unexpected and a pleasant surprise. I will pay you for the meal.” I waited for our hostess to sit down at the table with us.

“My pleasure, I assure you. Breakfast is included in the room price. Jimmy parked your van outside the door. Said the ECM was three hundred and five dollars. The tow bill was sixty since he was coming home anyway and you were on the way. His labor was forty dollars for installing the ECM. He said Hertz would pay for everything since it is a rental van.” She turned off the burners on the stove and wiped her hands on a towel.

“Will you have breakfast with us?” I was hoping she would sit and visit. She was easy on the eyes.

“I ate an hour ago after tending to chores. Thank you. If I can talk you into looking at some of the pottery I make before you leave.” She hesitated.

“Sure.” I offered before Jim had a chance to tell her we didn’t have time as we were late for a trade show.

It didn’t take long to wolf down a couple pancakes. I did feel supercharged with decent food in my stomach instead of a candy bar and coke. I pulled twenty out of my billfold and left it on the table as Sue walked out of the back door to show us her pottery.

Jim and I followed her out into a shed or lean to attached to the back of the house. I took a double take at the woman working the potter’s wheel. At first I thought it was the Indian Princess and then on second look no, but this woman was just as stunning. Barefoot, she was turning the potters wheel and molding up a clay cup, her hands expertly handling the clay and bringing it up as it spun on the potters wheel.

On the wall were four shelves. The bottom shelf held six exquisitely designed and intricately detailed cups. They were works of art. The next shelf held five cups. The cups were beautiful cups but not as exquisite as the ones below. The third shelf held even less artistically created cups. The second shelf held cups designed with obviously less talent and then the top shelf held one brown cup with a few drawings painted on the sides.

Sue pointed at the cups. BeLinda made all those cups except the first one. I made that one. They are for sale of course. A dollar apiece.”

Jim pulled out a dollar. “I want one off the bottom row. Souvenir for this trip.”

The lady at the wheel stopped and cleaned her hands. “A gift of course. What is your wish?”

Jim, crass as usual, cupped his privates with his hands. “I wish to be well endowed.”

“As you wish.” The lady handed him the cup in exchange for his dollar.

“I want the top cup Sue made if that’s all right with her.” I pointed toward the little brown cup. For the rest of my life, I knew it would remind me of our gracious hostess every time I looked at it.

“And your wish is?” The lady reached up and retrieved the little brown cup.

“For everyone to know how much I appreciated all their help the past twenty four hours. I don’t think I have ever felt better.” I pulled out a five and handed it to the lady.

“I’ll get your change.” She was reaching for a box at the bottom of the wall.

“No thanks. Consider it a gift or a tip. I think the room and the meal was worth every cent. I don’t remember when I ever felt better.” I was waiting for her to hand me the brown cup.

“The cups have been filled with wishes. I know what your heart desires. It was added to your cup. When the cup is broken it can no longer hold the wishes and they are released.” She handed me the cup.

“Yeah, right.” Jim shook his head in disgust. “Let’s go. We have a trade show to meet and we are late.”

I was thanking the ladies and apologizing for Jim’s rude behavior before I turned and followed him out to the van, collecting our suitcases on the way.

Jim placed his cup on top the van as he opened the door and tossed his suitcase into the back. Jim’s shaking the van caused the cup to roll off the top of the van. It shattered on the ground. Jim looked down at it in disgust. “Shit, well there went my dollar. Let’s go, we are late.”

“Jim, pick up the pieces. Don’t leave your trash for someone else to clean up.” I admonished him as he walked around the van to get in on the driver’s side.

“We are late. Get your ass in here or think about walking to Tucumcari.” Jim hit the starter and the little van came to life.

I tossed my suitcase in and slid in on the passenger’s side. “You are getting more cranky by the day on this trip. Another two days and I’ll have them put you in a straight jacket.”

“Shove it.” Jim dropped it into drive and hit the gas tossing gravel and dirt every where as he spun the van around onto the blacktop.

“Did you get any sleep last night? What is wrong with you? You are becoming unbearable by the minute.” I settled back in the seat for the drive to Tucumcari, glad I wasn’t driving this leg.

Jim never answered as he pushed the speed up close to a hundred.

“If there are any cows or any traffic on this road then we are both dead at this speed.” I was hoping to get through to his logic. I should have left it alone. Whatever was eating at him this morning wasn’t going to be smoothed over.

Lucky us, at the speed Jim was running we hit the turn onto the interstate in no time and were soon whizzing down the freeway along with several other cars. We were back to civilization, Clious was a memory. I closed my eyes and day dreamed about the beautiful Indian ladies I had the pleasure of meeting.

“Let’s go.” Jim was sliding out of the van.

I looked up at the building we were parked next too. I had gone back to sleep as Jim drove us to our next trade show. “I’m with you.”

We walked into the building, met with Clayton Wains, our distributor for the Tucumcari area, explained our problems on the road, and started setting up our booth.

Jim was very little help all morning. He kept running to the bathroom for whatever reasons. I was wondering if he had picked up a bug or something back down the road? Maybe he had it before leaving home? He didn’t look sick but he sure was irritable and he was keeping the restroom hot.

By noon, I sent Jim off to find us something to eat. I figured he was worthless anyway and food might make a difference. It was a moderately slow day as many of the contractors scheduled to show didn’t make it. I wasn’t having to demonstrate a whole lot of our products. And for some reason I couldn’t get those beautiful Indian women off my mind. I was on auto pilot. I might have been telling someone about one of our special gas connection fittings but I was thinking of Sue or the Indian Princess or…,

Sue’s brown cup was in my handbag I carried along with all the junk we men don’t carry in our pockets. I took a break while Jim was off searching for lunch. I washed the cup out and emptied a soda can in it from one of the vending machines in the trade center.

I was carrying it back to our booth, when I heard a loud crash over to my left. I turned to look. One of the display racks from one of our competitors had tipped over and fallen. Someone bumped my right elbow and the cup slipped from my hand.

“Oh no!” I was turning my head to follow the cup and dropping down trying to catch it at the same time. It shattered against the concrete floor of the show room.

“Excuse me.” Was the soft voice above me.

“Doesn’t matter. It was just a cup of wishes.” I was gathering up pieces and looked up…, She was slender built. Long silky black hair hung down her back. Her beautiful black eyes were dancing with mischief. She was wearing a tailored black pantsuit that fit every curve of her slender frame. She was wearing tall black stiletto heels. She was the Indian Princess…., no not quite but every bit as stunningly beautiful.

I rose up and stared. Was it possible they were sisters? “It was my fault. I should have watched where I was going.”

“I can assure you it wasn’t your fault.” She smiled. Her voice was filled with a lyrical quality.

“Mr. Dana Smyth.” Came from behind me.

I turned around to see who was calling my name. I was looking at a Fed Ex uniform. “Yes, that’s me.”

He handed me a large brown envelope and an electronic clipboard. “Sign here please.”

“Sure.” I signed it and handed the clipboard back to the driver.

“I wonder what this is.” I turned back around to find myself talking to no one. She was gone. I looked up and down the aisle. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. I checked the booths within the vicinity. There was no way she could disappear that quick but she did.

Ambling back over to my own booth I was checking over the address on the envelope. It was from Diva Records. I had no idea who Diva Records were. Didn’t ring a bell in my memory.

There were two men in our booth Bill Mackney and Kevin Stutter. They were a couple up and comers from Wafco. They were young studs who thought they knew everything about everything. The few times I had been around them they felt oily. A little too slick for my taste.

I waved as I approached the booth. “Passing through?”

Bill gave me a big cheesy grin. “We are replacing you. Merle Ackland checked the motel last night and you weren’t there. He was here this morning to check on you and you weren’t here. He called us in to take over.”

“Up yours, Bill. We had van trouble last night. We never reached our motel. Had to stay at Clious while the van was fixed. Try getting your car fixed out in the middle of no where in the middle of the night and see how you fair.” I was pissed Bill and Kevin would try and move me out of my schedule even though I would have welcomed it any other time. It was a shitty job but it was my shitty job.

“Should have called in. Merle Ackland, doesn’t like it when his staff doesn’t keep him informed or when they don’t tend to Wafco business.” Kevin offered his two cents.

“Up yours too Kevin. I couldn’t call in last night because the phones weren’t reaching out. Jim phoned it in this morning. Go kiss Merle Ackland’s ass and get out of my booth.” I was getting more and more steamed at these two clowns every time they opened their mouths.

“You kiss it. He’s right behind you.” Kevin had a serious look on his face for a change.

“Yeah, right. And I’m the Fairy Princess.” I wanted to punch his lights out.

“You’re fired Fairy Princess.” Came from a familiar voice behind me.

A cold numbing feeling spread from the top of my head clear down to my toes. I knew that voice and it belonged to my boss, Merle Ackland. “Mr. Ackland, I…,”

“Gather your personal things and leave. I don’t want you associated with Wafco any longer.” He didn’t let me finish my apology.

“But…” I was trying to explain our problems last night and this morning.

“No excuses. I’m positive I don’t want you kissing my ass as you suggested to Kevin. Don’t bother checking back in at the office. Your check will be mailed to your last address.” He glared at me.

“Thanks for the favor.” I scanned the booth for my things. Except for the coffee cup from Sue, I hadn’t unpacked my things. I picked up my shoulder bag and slid the shoulder strap up on my shoulder.

Kevin leaned over in my direction and whispered in my ear. “You even look like a Fairy Princess.”

That did it! I came unglued. I was already fired. What else could they do to me? I turned around swinging a round house right. I hit Kevin in the face with all I could put behind it. It was a solid connection. He went flying backwards into the display at the back of the booth. Shelves and wares went flying. It caused a chain reaction as the whole booth collapsed. The table with all the pamphlets and literature went down sending a mess of papers everywhere across the floor and aisle.

Merle Ackland was trying to back out of the way when he tripped and stumbled backwards into the booth behind him. It went down as he reached out to grab anything to keep from falling. He dragged everything down in on top of himself.

I guess Bill thought he was the hero of the day and would save everyone’s honor by clobbering me. He leaped for me. I dodged to my right but didn’t pull back my left foot. Bill tripped on my foot as he went past me. Off balance, he was leaning too far forward for his legs to catch up as he ran across the aisle and plowed into the booth opposite us. It was a water purifying booth from Liquid Distributors. Filters, bottled water, hoses, and gallons of water went flying every where. Bill was at the bottom of the mess as blue and red dye from the display poured out across his back.

I had to laugh as I turned and walked out of the building leaving the fiasco behind. That dye was indelible. If Merle Ackland wanted Bill manning his booth then he was going to have a red and blue salesman for about a month until it wore off.

As I walked out the door, Jim drove up in the van. “I have a couple of hot meals. Who’s taking care of the booth?”

I slid into the van and took a deep breath. “The booth needs some serious rearrangement right now. Merle Ackland, Bill Mackney, and Kevin Stutter came in to take over. I was fired because the van quit on us last night. I wouldn’t take bets on whether you still have a job or not either. I don’t think it would be a good time to go in and check but that’s up to you. It’s your life and your job.”

Jim started up the van and was pulling away from the building. “I saw a little park a couple miles back. Let’s go there and eat our dinner.”

“What about your job? You might save it by going in and helping.” I didn’t want Jim to get fired because of me.

“I called back home this morning. I’ve been looking for another job for the past month. They want me to come back to New York and start work immediately. I’m going to be manager of a shipping firm. Pays twice what I’m making for Wafco and they have so many benefits it’s not funny. I was going to tell you after lunch I was quitting and heading home this evening.” Jim shrugged his shoulders.

“Flying back?” I was wondering if I should fly back or drive the van back? It would take them a few days to cancel out the company credit cards. In the meantime gas and expense would still be paid for by Wafco.

“Flying back. I don’t want that job to get away.” Jim pulled up to the park and stopped.

“Yeah, I get the idea.” I picked up the sack Jim had brought back and opened it up. Looked like we were eating chicken. Well, at least it wasn’t crow. Merle might have fired us but he didn’t escape unscathed by his deed. He would never get that display booth back up for today. He would be sorting papers for several days. Bill wouldn’t be any help in public for a month until that dye wore off.

We ate our lunch as we watched the kids playing in the park. The squealing of kids as they ran and chased one another brought back memories of my own childhood. I wondered if everyone had childhood memories they took out and dusted off at the appropriate time?

“What’s Diva Records?” Jim pointed at the manila envelope lying in the front seat. I had forgot it when I slid into the van.

“I don’t know. Some driver dropped it off before I was fired.” I picked it up and opened the rip strip.

A check fluttered out and landed in the seat. I stared at it positive I was looking at someone’s idea of a joke.

Jim blinked a couple of times and then picked it up. “Is it real? Who is Candy Masters?”

“I don’t know. Obviously a mistake. They delivered the wrong package.” I checked the name on the manila envelope again. It was addressed to me. There were some papers inside. I slid them out.

The note begin:

Dear Ms Candy Masters,

Last year you sent in a demo to Julie Cuthli at Search Studios. The tape has been brought to our attention and we would like to sign you to a contract. Because you are an unknown you will be the warm up act for the tour of several of our artists we already have on contract. If you are in agreement then please sign the consent form and Next Day mail it back to our office.

If you have any questions please phone us at 1-800-225-9911 extension 29
Sincerely
Roberta Love
Diva Records

Jim had been reading the letter along with me. He looked up with a funny look on his face. “You send in a demo to Search Studios?”

“I don’t know what they are talking about…, unless…, I did send in a tape to a company last year. I forgot all about it. I was just goofing off. I didn’t think anything would come of it. Probably a mistake anyway. I’m not Candy Masters. They must have mixed up the envelopes or something. Ms. Masters probably received a rejection letter addressed to Dana Smyth. I should call them so they can call Ms. Masters and tell her she has been accepted.” I looked at the check addressed to Candy Masters wishing it was mine.

“Drop me off at the airport. You can do what you want with the van. I’m flying home to a real job.” Jim picked up our trash walked over to a trash bin and dropped it in.

I slipped out of the van. “Give me your phone and a minute to call in the mistake. I’ll be right with you.”

It took longer than a minute, a lot longer in fact. I was even more confused when I slid back into the van.

“What’s the deal?” Jim noticed the doubt in my eyes.

“I talked to Roberta. She said there wasn’t any mistake. She told me to drop into Matey Studios in Albuquerque tomorrow and do a recording. If I pass then I’m in.” I was mulling that one over in my mind.

And the check? What about the check and who is Candy Masters?” Jim was trying as hard as me to make sense of what I was telling him.

“I think I am. Or at least that was the idea Roberta gave me. I’m not sure. I told her I was Dana Smyth. She said that was correct. I just don’t know.” I was wondering what kind of group I would be warm up for?

A smile spread across Jim’s face. He fell back into the seat laughing. “OH THIS IS RICH! NOW I GET IT! YOU SENT THEM A RECORDING OF YOU SINGING DIDN’T YOU? OH YEAH!”

“And?” I wondered what he was getting at?

“I’ve heard you sing. You sound just like a girl. They think they are signing a girl for a warm up to their concerts.” He was laughing as he was talking.

“NO I DON’T!” I couldn’t believe Jim would say I sang like a girl…, but then Roberta agreed I was Dana Smyth. “Oh shit! You don’t think they expect me to sing like a girl before a live audience do you?”

He picked up the check and waved it back and forth. “Ms Candy Masters is the stage name they gave you. Now what do you think?”

“Oh no…, it ain’t happening. They can’t pay me enough to make me do something like that.” I had no idea what they expected. It most certainly wasn’t going to be me as Candy Masters.

Jim nodded. “I see. Okay, you are unemployed. You don’t have a banking account. You said your credit cards were maxed out. Your ex is bleeding you for everything she can get. Two days ago you said you had ninety dollars cash. Did I miss anything?”

It was the comment about my ex wife that hurt me the worse. Catherine and I had only been married for six months when she moved out. I received divorce papers at work that same day. The bitch had a damn good divorce lawyer. Between the two of them they took everything I had and everything I would have. The house was sold. Catherine received the hundred and ten thousand from the sale. I received the mortgage payment for the next thirty years on a house I no longer owned. I was paying alimony at the tune of three thousand a month on top of everything else. Of course I couldn’t afford it. So every three months I was dragged back into court and more charges were added. Last I counted, I owed the bitch and her lawyer close to three quarters of a million dollars.

“No, I think you covered the bases. You wouldn’t be interested in floating me a loan till I find a job would you?” I was thinking a couple thousand would get me by until I found my next job.

Jim shook his head as he waved the check back and forth. “Catch 22. I’ll float you a loan only if you accept this job. In that case, you don’t need the loan because this check will make your world look comfy. Anyway, you’re single. That doesn’t make you a good loan risk.”

“You’re a real friend.” I wasn’t warming up to the idea of being Candy Masters and my options weren’t looking too good at this point.

“I really am your friend. I’m gonna stick around and drive with you over to Albuquerque.” He held the check out in my direction.

“Up yours.” I took the check and sighed.

“Buckle up, I don’t want a ticket.” He adjusted the steering wheel and started up the van. “Even though they don’t know it, Wafco is going to pay for your appointment with your agent.”

The drive was actually enjoyable. We weren’t pushing our day to make the next motel and the next trade show so it didn’t drag on our nerves. I have to admit I was a little antsy thinking I was going to be singing as Candy Masters but that check I kept looking at made it easy to accept. Funny how money makes a lot of unbearable things, acceptable.

Wafco credit cards paid for our motel and breakfast the next morning. We asked and received directions to Matey Studios. There were several people waiting in the reception area when we walked in. I headed for the counter and the receptionist across the room.

A cute little red head looked up when I stepped up to the counter and slid the manila envelope in front of her. She slid a ledger in front of me. “Sign your name and your agent’s name if you have one.”

She opened up the manila envelope and hesitated as she read the letter. She looked up. “You are Candy Masters?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a question I could answer with any truth.

She sighed as she looked at the name on the envelope. She turned the ledger around I had signed and took a look. “Okay, from now on, you answer as Candy Masters. Any questions?”

“No ma’am.” My ears were burning as I was positive everyone in the reception area was listening. I was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

She pointed to her name tag. “I’m Susan. Are the names clear in your mind, Miss Masters?”

“Yes ma’am.” I was positive my face and neck were red by this time.

She pointed to her name tag again. “And my name is…?”

“Susan?” I was getting the message loud and clear.

“Good. I love progress.” She pointed off to her left and a hallway and slid the manila envelope back up on the counter. “Door at the end Miss Masters. They will listen to you now.”

“Yes ma’am.” I picked up the envelope.

She sighed as she pointed to her name tag again. “I hate when we regress don’t you?”

“Yes…, Susan.” I hated being lectured like a four year old almost as much as I hated being called Miss Masters.

“Last door, Miss Masters.” She was looking down as she pointed down the hallway again.

“Thank you…, Susan.” I wanted to run from that building. But then, I was broke and needed a job. If they accepted me I had a paycheck already in my hands. For the kind of money that check represented they could call me anything they wanted. Miss Masters wasn’t really that bad come to think of it.

I opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped into a small room with another door straight across. I opened that door and was inside a audio sound booth. There was a mixed bunch of musicians in the studio doing a warm up. I counted one guy and one girl on guitars, a girl on keyboard, a girl on drums, a girl on violin, and a girl on a mandolin. The snappy music they were generating was enough to make my feet want to dance in rhythm.

One of the guys in the sound booth looked up when I walked in. “I see her. She’s here. Got it. We are ready.”

He picked up a handful of music sheets and held them out in my direction. “Pick the songs you know and let’s see what you got.”

I took the sheets and scanned through them. I knew most of them but not by heart. “Now?”

He pointed into the studio where the others were still playing. “Not here, there. Sing into the mike by the stool that’s empty.”

“Okay.” My stomach was rolling with butterflies and I was feeling like I was going to faint. Not my finest moment for sure. I opened the door and stepped into the studio where the real musicians were still swinging away.

They never skipped a beat or hesitated as I walked over to the empty stool and looked through the music sheets. I looked up into the mixing booth at four faces looking back at me. I held up a sheet of music and pointed.

One of the men in the booth picked up a set of headphones and made a motion of putting them on while pointing back in my direction. I looked around for a set of headphones. They were lying on the floor by the stool. I picked them up and put them on. Again I held up the sheet music.

“Don’t show us, tell us. We can’t read it from here. What do you want them to play?” Came back over my headphones.

“Uh, ahhhh…, well, I thought…., could they…., I mean if it’s not too much trouble…,”

“Damn woman, stop beating around the bush and tell them. We have a schedule to keep. We want to get out of here sometime before next week.” Came back over my headphones.

“FOOLISH MIND!” I screamed back into the mike in front of me.

The music stopped and it got deathly quiet. I knew I had messed up. I was afraid to look behind me at the musicians.

“On three. One, two, three.” Was the beat and the intro chords into Foolish Mind as it played back into my headphones.

I missed the opening chords and broke into the music trying to catch up, off key, off beat, and just off everything. “My foolish mind keeps trying to…”

“Stop, stop. Let’s go again. On three, one, two, three.” Came over my headphones again as again they picked up the intro chords.

Again I was late, off key, off beat and missing harmony with the music. I wasn’t only bad, I was really bad. A screech owl would have done a better job.

“Stop. Linda, a little support if you don’t mind.” Came over my headphones.

The violinist stepped up beside me. “Okay sweetheart, watch me and follow my lead. On three, one, two, three.”

The musicians led into the opening chords and Linda leaned up to the mike between us. “My foolish mind keeps trying to tell me our love is the same…”

Her voice was soft and pure as a gentle spring rain. She was not only good, she was super star material as far as I was concerned. I was wondering why I had never heard of her before? I was too infatuated to sing in the beginning and it wasn’t until the second verse I finally got into the song with her. Her voice carried me in sync, in rhythm, on key, and off to a place where there was nothing but us and that song. The studio, the musicians, and the guys in the audio booth were gone. It was just Linda and me and our song.

“From the beginning one more time.” Came over my headphones when we finished the song and the world came back to reality.

“On three, one, two, three.” Linda had backed away from the mike but it didn’t make any difference. I was there one more time. She brought her violin up and made it wail a lonely cry of lost love before the second verse. Her subtle touch in with the melody was pure heart wrenching magic. The girl was gifted in voice and her touch was golden on the violin.

“That’s a take. Next one.” Came over my headphones after we finished the song.

“Vixen in the Red Dress.” I was ready for a fast, hot, number.

“On four, one, two, three, four.” And the band wound up into the song.

It was one of those songs that makes everyone want to clap and stomp. It’s lively, quick, and fast paced. The reason I liked it was because it didn’t take talent to sing it. The lyrics were so fast one could seldom understand the words anyway. As I belted that puppy out, everyone was smiling.

“I’ll take that one. Next.” Came in over the headphones when we wrapped up Vixen in the Red Dress..

I wasn’t keeping track of time or the songs we ran through. I was having fun. I think everyone else was too. We came to the end when I ran out of sheet music. I didn’t count but I was thinking we had run through eleven our fourteen songs. “Are we finished?”

“That’s it for today.” Came over my headphones.

I took off my headphones and turned around to thank the musicians. “Thanks for putting up with me. It was kind of you to not walk out.”

“You’re kidding, right?” The girl on the keyboard was laughing as she headed for the door. “See you Friday night.”

The others followed her out. They were turning off the lights so I followed them and closed the door behind me. Only one guy was left in the audio booth. I waved at him. “Thanks for the session.”

He nodded in agreement. “Check with Susan up front for your schedule. See you Friday.”

“Friday?” I was wondering what was so special about Friday. That was tomorrow night. I watched as the door closed behind him. He was gone. Boy, they don’t hang around after the lights are turned down.

I walked back down the hall the opposite of the way I had come in. Susan was still behind the counter. She slid some papers up on the counter without ever looking up. “Miss Masters, take your contract and look it over. Have your lawyer look it over if you have one. Have your agent look it over if you have an agent. I would like to have it back by six tomorrow evening. If you need longer that can be arraigned.”

“What is happening tomorrow? Everyone kept saying they would see me on Friday. Do we have another session tomorrow?” I was curious as to what was happening on Friday I was missing.

Susan looked up. “I’m sorry. It’s in your schedule. Please check your schedule. If you have questions after that then I’ll answer them.”

“And my schedule is?” I was thinking these people have done this so often it was old stuff and I was trying to play catch up.

She tapped the papers she had placed on top the counter. “There along with your contract.”

She glanced at her watch. “Miss Masters, I strongly suggest you go down to Brown and Brown for your fitting. Time is of essence and you are wasting it by standing here.”

“And Brown and Brown are located? I’m not from here and the names and addresses mean nothing to me.” I was hoping Susan was finally getting the idea I needed some guidance.

Susan looked up and studied me for a few seconds. She pushed a paper up on the counter. “Okay, sign this and I’ll get you on your way.”

I looked at what I was suppose to be signing. It was an agreement between Matey Studios and signee. Matey Studios was acting agent for signee until at such time signee found another agent or signee terminated agent agreement with Matey Studios.

“And that’s it?” I didn’t see any legalese in that agreement. It was a simple contract. “How much do agents get or what is this costing me?”

Susan was looking down when she giggled. “Boy, you are green aren’t you? Matey Studios pays for your agent. Honey, the agreement is you agree to let Matey Studios be your representative agent. They are paying themselves to be your agent. It’s a legal form for the lawyers. It allows you to have a limo and driver to take you where you need to be to meet your schedule. It allows us to legally arrange for your room and board as necessary. It allows us to pay for your expenses and deduct it out of your expense account.”

She looked up and studied me. “In other words, it allows us to be your agent and do what agents normally do without tying you up in some legal formality you can’t break or end if it doesn’t suit you.”

“Thank you.” I signed it and pushed it back in her direction.

“You are welcome.” She pushed a couple numbers on her phone. “Limo and driver will pick you up out front in ten minutes. Lad has experience at this. Let him walk you through it. He will make sure you are ready and prepared for tomorrow night.”

“Sure, thanks again Susan.” I had no idea what I was going to prepare for.

“My job Miss Masters.” She pointed toward the front door. “Limo will be there in a few minutes. Take your friend with you if you wish.”

“Friend?” I looked around and saw Jim still waiting on me.

He and a dozen other people in that room were staring at me for what ever reason. “Oh, okay. I’ll see if he wants to go along or if he’s still flying back to New York this evening?”

I headed for the door, motioning Jim to follow. I was waiting on the sidewalk when he caught up. “I need my things out of the van and then I guess if you are headed on to New York you can turn it in at the airport.”

He shook his head. “I overheard the conversation. If you don’t mind, I think I will stick around to see your warm up act tomorrow night.”

“Warm up act?” I was getting a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach again.

“Everyone in the reception room was talking about you. They piped your audition back into the lobby. I wouldn’t have believed it was you except for that awful screeching you were doing there at the beginning. And who the hell was that other lady? She was awesome. The funny part is, as good as she was, you were better. I still have goose bumps running up and down my spine. From the reaction of everyone else I think they had the same problem.” He pointed toward the van. “Let’s get our things and wait on that limo of yours to give us a ride. I’ll call Hertz and tell them to come and pick that van up.”

“I guess.” I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to turn lose of that van or not after what Jim said. I might still want to run if things got any worse. Warm up act? I wondered how big a crowd we were going to entertain and what would those people think when they saw me instead of…, Oh no, they can’t be thinking I’ll dress like a girl? Could they? They wouldn’t dare!

It turned out worse than I expected. The problem was that ‘slippery slope’ everyone keeps mentioning when things start going bad and keep going from bad to worse. Looking back, the name Candy Masters was the first step. When I accepted the name I was doomed. My life was over. The second step was the audition. I was dragged into believing I could sing thinking that was all they would require. The third step was signing that damn legal form allowing Matey Studios to be my agent. Agents run their clients lives and keep up their schedule for them. The forth step was letting my limo driver drop me off at Brown and Brown. It wasn’t the clothier I thought it was when it was mentioned. It was in fact a Body Shop or a makeover spa and lounge for the well to do woman or the aspiring movie actress, or…, in my case, the aspiring wannabe female vocalist.

I should have fled when I walked in and it looked like a Body Shop for women instead of a clothes store for men. I should have fled when the babe with Wanda printed on her name tag met me and asked if I was Miss Candy Masters? I should have ran screaming from the building when she didn’t even raise an eyebrow when I stammered yes.

Don’t you like my pierced ears and long multi loop diamond earrings? Courtesy of the Body Shop of course. The piercing not the diamond earrings. The long, bright liquid red fingernails are beautiful for a girl who doesn’t wait tables don’t you think? They are non removable and tough as titanium plate I’m told. Impossible to break they said. I believe them after banging them on everything the first week. I found it’s impossible to do a lot of things with fingernails that long. It takes a whole new way of handling everything. Picking up something small and flat was impossible until I learned to slide a nail under it to lift it up first. They said I would get use to the eyelashes in a couple weeks. They lied. Those long lashes almost drove me out of my ever loving mind. I never did get use to them. Every time I get in a breeze they flutter and irritate my eyes, and I start blinking. They were implanted so I didn’t have to put them on every morning was the story they told me. They were nighttime stage length so the crowd and the cameras could see them from a distance. Women definitely don’t wear them nearly as long as I do. In the daylight I definitely stand out as a woman of the evening if all they were looking at were my long, thick, heavy, lashes.

If it was only the long painted nails and lashes I definitely would no longer could be a guy. But that was only a couple of the things they did to me that evening in the Body Shop. They pushed, molded, padded, and pinched me in all the places a woman would love to have stand out or in depending on where it was on the body.

It was after eleven when Lad picked me up and dropped me off at the Hotel Western. The desk clerk handed me a room key without even asking my name. “We were expecting you, Miss Masters. Welcome to Hotel Western.”

“Thank you.” My bracelets tinkled as I took the key and slipped it into my shoulder purse. All I wanted was a bed. I didn’t like walking in heels. I didn’t like pantyhose. I didn’t like the corset I was wearing. I didn’t like the silk slip I was wearing. I didn’t like the polished liquid red, silk dress I was wearing. I didn’t like the long platinum blonde hair I was wearing. Most certainly I didn’t like myself because I didn’t stop them before it was too late.

What was the icing on the cake was trying to get out of that dress and the rest of the rig. I couldn’t reach the zipper on the dress after I pushed it down a few inches from the top. It was impossible to reach coming up behind my back. “I’m in purgatory.”

I flopped on top the bed and was instantly asleep clothes and all. It was a hell of a night in more ways than one. I was dreaming I was a woman. When I tried to sing it came out all scratchy and raspy. The crowd hated me and tossed things at me. I ran crying from the stage only to find everyone had abandon me and I was all alone trying to find a job on the streets. The only offers I received were from dirty old men in shiny new limos. I woke in fear only to find my dream wasn’t all dream. I was wearing a dress and…, I fell back asleep to dream of more nightmares. I was on stage singing my little heart out and when I finished I looked and no one was there except me. It was a huge auditorium and it was empty. I fled the stage only to find I didn’t know the way out. There were hundreds of doors and every door I tried only led to another room. I was trapped…, I woke struggling for my life. I was bound as I fought my way free only to find I had been wrapped up in the bed covers and not all of it was a dream. I was wearing a dress and…,

“Morning, Miss Masters.” Came from a female across a distant void.

I tried to open my eyes and they wouldn’t. They felt like they were on fire, all scratchy and irritated. I reached up with my right hand to try and pry an eye open.

A hand caught my wrist before I was able to stick my fingers in my eye. “No wait. You don’t want to do that. Let me put some drops in them to numb then and lubricate them. Roll over on your back and lie still for about five minutes.” Came from the same voice.

I went to sleep in Hell, I woke up in Hell. Why oh why did I ever agree to this? I’ll tell you why! Money! Money is evil. It will drag you into Hell. I knew personally how evil money is. I did as told even though I wanted to rub my eyes and get them open. I felt something drip on my eyelids as I listened to someone moving around the room.

I wanted to say something but my mouth wasn’t working any better than my eyes. My tongue felt alien inside my mouth. It felt dry, swollen, and thick. My lips felt numb. I was positive the Sahara Desert had parked in my mouth and sucked all the moisture and life out of it. I reached up to touch my lips. I poked myself with those damn long nails. I tried again with the flat of my finger. They felt swollen. I vaguely remembered them sticking needles in my lips yesterday in that Body Shop. What had they done to me? Mentally I dropped a few more feet down into purgatory as I pushed on my numb, swollen lips.

“The eyelashes will irritate your eyes for a about a month until you adjust to them. Wanda was supposed to explain some of the dos and don’ts to you last night. She had an emergency in the family. Her little girl swallowed a coin. They had to rush her down to emergency.”

“Anyway, don’t rub your eyes as you will only make them worse. If you rub them you may also get them infected until they have healed. The drops lubricate and numb your lids. The Vegas stage length lashes are a real pain to get use to. Girls don’t op for them that long. They sure look great from out in the audience, fifty or sixty rows back though.”

“Stand up.” A hand wrapped around my right hand.

I felt my eyes loosening up as I was led from the bed.

“Let’s get you out of that rig and into the shower. You don’t have enough star power to be a prima donna yet. You have rehearsals in an hour.”

I felt the zipper on the dress slid down as light started filtering through the crack in my eyelids.

“Okay, shoulders forward.” She slid the dress forward off my shoulders.

“Step out, arms up.”

I did as fuzzy outlines came into focus.

She lifted my slip off up over my head. “Corset next. Turn around.”

It felt sooooooooo gooood when she unlaced that medieval torture device. My body was stinging all over but it felt wonderful to feel the air brush softly against my skin. “oooooooooooh”

“Yeah, right. Pantyhose and heels and hit the shower.” She patted my butt as she pointed to the bathroom.

“Umph oot!” I felt a rush of pain in my kidneys from a violent need to make bathroom as the air sensitized my body. I was headed to the bathroom as fast as I could run in high heels.

I made the shower. Held my mouth under the spay head to get enough moisture in it to start working again. After the shower I knew I didn’t want to look in the mirror but curiosity and the cat thing is in all of us. I had to see. I wish I hadn’t looked. It wasn’t me I was looking at. I held my finger up to my eyelashes and measured. Now an inch and half isn’t much but in some places it’s too damn much. And they were thick and heavy and caused me to be constantly blinking as if I was flirting all the time. They certainly made me look like a Vegas showgirl or worse. The problem was, it didn’t stop there. My eyebrows had been arched and swept out. Extraordinarily, uncommonly beautiful on a woman but…, My eyes had permanent black eyeliner tattooed top and bottom and swept out Cleopatra style. It heightened and widened my eyes and gave me that sultry look behind those impossible long lashes.

Reaching up with an index finger I pulled my right eyelid down. My eyelid had been permanently colored. A light florescent tan on top the black eyeliner faded out to a darker florescent tan to the top of the eye socket. I slipped a few more feet down into Hell as I stared. They had turned me into a Vegas Showgirl. Hell, I would make a Vegas show girl look like Mother Teresa. And mine wasn’t coming off when the show was over every evening.

There was no need of looking at the lips but of course I did. I had sweetheart lips every girl would have killed for. They were extra full and pouty begging to be kissed by every full blooded male. They also promised to turn on a lot of those that weren’t full blooded. They were outlined as if they needed any help standing out more. They were a wet vibrant, ultra bright, polished, liquid red. It was as if I was looking deep into the liquid red. Guaranteed to have the guys falling all over themselves trying to get a kiss. I was positive I had slipped into the abyss of Hell.

The only place I was going to look good was up on stage. Any other time I was going to look like a tart. I was a night time girl only. I had sold my soul to the devil for a few pieces of silver. My life was over. I could never walk into a store again like normal people. Everyone would be staring at the Vegas Showgirl.

Gwen was the name of the girl who helped me get ready for rehearsal. When we left the hotel I looked like a Vegas Showgirl and my voice had returned by then. The red dress was beaded and sequined in swirl design from the spaghetti straps to the extra full skirt. I was wearing a matching bolero jacket. My red heels and red purse matched the dress with beads and sequins. The earrings and bracelets I was wearing had enough diamonds in them to start my own diamond mine. I walked up to the limo by the curb. I could see sparkles and light reflections splashing all over that big black car as I approached. The outfit I was wearing was all glitter.

On the ride over to the auditorium it was impossible to keep from licking my lips. They felt numb, out of place, and swollen. It was a natural reaction to want to unconsciously lick them.

Gwen was watching. “You’ll get use to them.”

“But they feel so damn big.” I touched them with my finger in disbelief.

“Certainly turns the guys on. They were reshaped for a reason. The more attractive you are the better you sell.” She gave a slight nod of her head.

I don’t want to turn the guys on.” Involuntarily I ran my tongue across them again.

“Yes you do. Your whole image is to get the audience involved with you. It takes lots of glamour to do that to a huge audience. Ugly girls don’t sell on stage.” She turned and looked out the window.

“My lips are numb. I won’t be able to carry a tune.” I knew my voice was going to be off key.

“It’s the colored silicone injected in them. Your body will put it’s own collagen in your lips to seal the color. They will get feeling back in a couple days. You only have to lip sync the songs. They pulled your vocals off yesterday and will feed it back on stage. All you have to do is act tonight.” She offered as she took a quick glance at my lips.

“Colored silicone? Is that legal?” Maybe I hadn’t reached the bottom of Hell? It looked like I might fall down a few more flights.

“Oh, it’s not the old stuff that wouldn’t stay in place. The injections are cohesive colored silicone. It is what gives your lips that deep wet, hot red look. The color won’t fade or wear off as it’s permeated into the cells more than skin deep. They are begging to be kissed.” She gave me a slight smile.

“Yeah, you said that already. Lucky me.” My life was over I was positive. I owned permanent deep vibrant, liquid red, swollen, sweetheart lips that begged to be kissed. I was NOT a happy camper!

Lad dropped us off at the Ford Stadium. It was big enough to hold a football game. I learned afterwards, that was exactly what it had been designed for. The stage was huge. There was a huge screen in the center of the auditorium and another huge screen rising above the stage. Anyone in the auditorium was going to be able to get a real good view of the stage act by looking at the screens.

Gwen led me up to the stage. The musicians I had worked with yesterday were already picking melodies and various chords.

The violinist, Linda, took a good look as I walked up on the stage. “Un huh, Candy. Not bad. You look hot girl.”

I tried to smile but it wasn’t in me. “Thanks.”

Linda gave me the once over. “Okay, let’s go through the routine. Candy, singers are dime a dozen. Girls not only have to be able to sing, they have to perform too. That means you give the audience a show while you are singing. Otherwise you’re just another singer and you will be working one night stands in every beer joint from the Atlantic to the Pacific to pay the meal ticket.”

She gave me a serious look. “You act like you are having fun when you are up on stage even if you aren’t. The audience picks up what you project. You give them a sour puss and they won’t pay ten cents to go to your next concert. So what you do is smile, put laughter in your voice, and parade your body across this stage for all the boys and girls who paid good money to see you act.”

“I’ll try.” I knew she was right even if I was green in the acting department.

“No, you won’t try. You’ll do. The audience doesn’t buy try. Gwen is our choreographer. She has designed most of our routine. So when you are out of the try mood and into the can do mood then let’s give it a whirl.” Linda lifted her violin up to her chin and pulled her bow across as she drew out a low note.

Gwen stepped up beside me. “Watch and follow. When you get the dance routine down then you can think about singing at the same time but until then, we work on the dance routine.”

I stepped up beside her. “I’m ready.”

“Lonesome Me on four. One, two, three, four.” Came from the drummer behind us as she led into the beat.

I was watching Gwen as she sidestepped to the rhythm. I tried following her as I sidestepped. There were two problems I could instantly see. Gwen was wearing pants and sneakers and I was wearing heels and a dress. Her smooth movements did not translate into smooth movements when I tried to imitate her.

We went through the whole song with me clumsily trying to follow along. When it was over, Gwen gave me a smile. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, for a duck.” I responded.

“You’ll get better. Rome wasn’t built in a day. All you have to do is get good enough to please the guys. There are no mistakes up here unless you have a partner. Only a very few of us know the dance number. If you goof no one will be able to tell except us.”

“Lots of body English. You are up on a big stage. You have to project in huge proportions to reach your audience. I want lots of hip movement. Swing your arms out when you spin and flick up your skirt. When you kick I want that foot to touch the ceiling.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Again.”

I looked up at the ceiling that was a hundred feet or more up over my head. I couldn’t even get my leg up past my knee. “Better raise the ceiling then.”

Everyone laughed. They had already seen my high kick. Gwen smiled and nodded. “That’s the spirit. Okay, I want all of that and more. Again.”

The drummer picked up the beat, Gwen sidestepped bouncing off to our left. I tried my best to bounce as I followed her. She spun and flung out her arms. I spun and flung out my arms, my skirt bellowing out around me.

Gwen stopped and held up her hand. The music stopped. “Flick up your skirt as you bring your arms up.”

“Now?” I wasn’t sure when I was suppose to respond.

“Yes now.” She waited.

I reached down, grabbed a handful of material with both hands and flung my arms out turning loose about shoulder level.

“No. The movement is suppose to be invisible to those who are watching. Don’t hold onto the material. Roll your hand into it as you move past the skirt. The material will collect on the back of your hand. As you bring your hand up it will slide off. It’s an innocent movement but suggestive as hell. The guys get to see under your skirt and it wasn’t your fault. You do that every time you swing your arms down and up.”

“Again.” She took her position beside me.

We did it again, and again, and again, and…, I didn’t think the morning was ever going to end. I was tired beyond description. I was also mentally tired of hearing them tell me to smile, kick higher, swing your hips, pick up your skirt, and so it went.

We quit for lunch. As bad as I didn’t want to, Lad drove Gwen and me out to a large fancy restaurant. The name on the front was Flamingo Club. Everyone was looking when we slid out of the limo.

“Smile Miss Masters. You want them to talk about you and come to the concert tonight.” She was smiling as she led me into the restaurant.

I smiled in spite of all my misery. There wasn’t any alternative. I was either going to co-operate or I was going to go back to the hotel and ask for a large sharp knife and slit my throat.

Gwen was leading the way to the matrie d’. “Miss Candy Masters and party.”

He nodded as he looked at me. “Certainly. This way Miss Masters.”

He seated us at a table just inside the door. I accepted the chair as he pulled it back. Great! Everyone could look me over coming and going. I wonder if they will bring me a long sharp butcher knife from the kitchen?

Gwen leaned over in my direction. “Smile Miss Masters.”

I was smiling as I leaned back over in her direction and whispered. “Up yours sweetheart.”

Gwen laughed as her eyes danced with delight. “That’s the spirit. You’ll need that to get through the concert tonight.”

I tried to not look around but it wasn’t possible. Back to the curiosity killed the cat thing. I had to see how many were staring. There was another problem of course. When I looked back I was batting my eyelashes at them. Not on purpose but because it was involuntary and necessary. Those long lashes I was endowed with were bothering my vision and my eyes were still irritated. The result was lots of blinking to lubricate the eyes.

The guys loved it because I was flirting with them and the ladies hated me because I was a flirt. NOT MY FAULT! If that wasn’t enough, I was unconsciously licking my lips. Now put it all together and you can imagine what kind of emotions I was causing in that restaurant. I look at a guy, bat my eyelashes as I flirt with him and then lick my lips suggestively. There wasn’t one single woman in that restaurant that wouldn’t have cheerfully slit my throat for me. There wasn’t one guy in the restaurant that wouldn’t have hesitated to carry me off to the nearest bed. My life was in jeopardy from both sexes and it wasn’t really my fault.

Gwen knew what was going on. Bless her black heart, she was relishing every second of it. She was enjoying my discomfort too much. She knew exactly what I was doing to both sexes. She was just enjoying the whole situation too much.

What Gwen understood and I didn’t was controversy causes talk and sells tickets. The more people talked about the concert or anyone connected with the concert the more tickets they sold and the more money they made per concert. Barnum and Bailey understood the marketing of the circus before it opened. They sent people ahead to plaster the town with fliers a week before the circus came to town. Then they paraded the elephants down main street the day of the circus. Elephants are big and showy and people really don’t get to see anything besides a big elephant. The real show is that night inside the big tent.

I didn’t know it at the time but I guess one could say, I was the elephant act. I was all glitter and Vegas Showgirl fluff. Everyone could look and get all excited. They had to buy their ticket for the real show that night.

Photographers were waiting outside the Flamingo after we finished lunch. “Miss Masters, how long have you been singing? Where did you start out? Who’s your agent. Please give me a pose.” Came from half a dozen people all at once.

Gwen held up her hand in front of me to keep the photographers from taking shots. “Please, Miss Masters had a hard schedule and will answer all questions in due time. She isn’t answering any questions at the moment. You may take some pictures and then we have to go back to rehearsal.”

She leaned back up over my shoulder. “They want poses so give them what they want. Do poses out of the dance routine. Smile hon.”

I smiled as Gwen stepped out of the way. I spun and lifted my skirt. I pulled my shoulder forward as I turned sideways and looked at the cameras. I put my hands on my hips and looked off in the distance. I also did those other things like batting my eyes and flirting and licking my lips suggestively but not on purpose.

The photographers went wild. They were loving ever second of it. Lots of expensive film was rolling through those expensive cameras.

The limo rolled up to the curb.

Gwen took my arm. “Gentlemen, it was a pleasure but we have to go. Catch Miss Masters at the concert tonight. Thank you.”

“Miss Masters where do you call home? Where did you go to school? What was the last band you worked for? Are you married or engaged? Do you have a boyfriend? Who is…”

The limo pulled away from the curb and left the reporters and all their questions behind.

I could not believe what I had got myself into. When the reporters found out who I really was that would be the end of it all. No one would want to go see a guy who sang like a girl. I would be washed up before I ever began. I was looking at nothing out my side window before I turned my attention back to Gwen. “Who called in the wolves?

“The wol…, oh, you mean the reporters? Hon, you need to learn a cold hard fact of life in this business. They are wolves if you let them tear you apart or eat you alive. They are also your best allies if you use them to your advantage. You can’t buy the publicity you just received back there. Your name and picture will be on the front page of the Albuquerque News this evening. The Television six o’clock news on all seven channels will do a blurb about you along with the complimentary video. You are fresh blood. That’s good news. There is fresh blood and old blood that makes the news. All those in between have to beg for a little printed ink or air time to get their names mentioned.”

She gave slight nod. “You are the former. If you don’t work them now you won’t have enough gas to make it to the top because there is that long dry spell between the bottom and the top when no one is interested in you no matter how good you are.”

I felt my lips. “But I look like a Vegas Showgirl or a tart!”

“Vegas Showgirl? That’s a possible angle we can use. In our business tart is a drawing card.” She took a quick look as Lad pulled up to the curb. “It’s time go back to work for a few hours. We will break about four and you will go on at six.”

“What time is the concert?” I was curious as to how long I was going to be warm up act.

“It’s at seven. You cut enough songs yesterday to lip sync for fifty minutes. The band will carry ten minutes by themselves.” She opened the door, stood up, and waited on me to catch up.

Gwen and I worked for three solid hours on my dance routine. This time I was wearing a voice mike and trying to sing as I tried to remember the steps Gwen was showing me. When four finally rolled around I was hot, tired, and more than miserable. I had no idea what those people paid for a ticket but it wasn’t enough for the hard work I was putting out. I was wishing for my life back.

I thought the four to six o’clock break was going to be a break. I was wrong. It only meant I wasn’t dancing across the stage. The band gathered me up and we spent another hour backstage before another band showed up and set up. Then we all rehearsed together. Linda joined me in vocals and we sang as a duet when the second band joined us. It was a good thing because I was really off key. Everyone knew it. I could see the different members wince in pain every now and then when I messed up big time. I could also see doubt in the new band members thinking we were going to be their warm up act. Probably figured they wouldn’t have any audience left by the time we finished. Despite the better than good music our band was playing I was causing everyone pain.

By the time six o’clock rolled around all the musicians that had been practicing with me that morning managed to change into costume. The girls had changed into beaded and sequined evening dresses with full flouncy skirts and full makeup. The guy had changed into a tux. They looked like they belonged in an orchestra rather than a rock band. But rock music was what we were going to give the audience.

Gwen stepped out and took my arm. “Take a deep breath and forget what you learned.”

“Say what?” I couldn’t believe I had worked my little tail off all day and now I was suppose to forget it all.

“Mistakes are going to be made. Only you and I will know. Get out there and move with the music. Let it carry you. I’ve seen it in you from the very beginning. You have a natural rhythm. Go with it.” She backed off to the side of the stage.

“I guess.” I took a deep breath. The curtains were closed and I had no idea how many people were in front of me.

“On four, one, two, three, four.” The drummer picked up a steady beat. The rest of the band dropped in and laid out the opening chords. I wasn’t ready but I could hear my own voice as pure as a mountain stream drop in right on cue and in harmony. It was the dub over they were piping back in from the first day.

“Pick it up, Candy. Lip sync and move.” Came from Gwen off to the side.

The drummer gave a machine gun beat on her drums. I should have been off to the left side of the stage at that cue, spinning and bouncing back to the right side of the stage. It was too late to catch up now so I waited and counted beats, mentally projecting my motions coming back across the stage to where I was standing. When my mental picture caught up with my actual position on stage I was ready and swung in rhythm with myself bouncing and spinning across to the right side of the stage. I was lifting my skirt as Gwen taught me and singing in a soft voice to myself.

“She’s got it. Curtain.” Came from backstage.

I wasn’t paying any attention as my full concentration was on the dance routine and the song. My voice was pure as I sang my heart out. Only it wasn’t really me. It was yesterdays recordings. There was a thunderous noise I didn’t recognize. Actually it sounded like a jet plane taking off. We must be next to the airport? The song lasted three minutes and fourteen seconds. When we finished I heard another jet plane taking off.

There wasn’t any time to think about those damn jet planes as the band wound up into the second song. Unbroken Love was the second song. I liked that song a little better than most. It was fast, had a good beat, and Linda sang melody with me. It was a fun song for me. It would have been more fun if I had actually been singing it rather than lip syncing.

I noticed the audience about the middle of the third song. By then I was wired and high on adrenalin. It was only the band and me. I figured out what that jet engine roar was when we finished that third song. It was the audience screaming for more.

The forth song was Changing Hearts and it was Linda’s turn with her violin. If there ever was a violin player it was her. She made that instrument come alive and talk straight to the soul even though it was a fast number.

I had backed off stage beside Gwen. “She belongs up on stage in front of an orchestra.”

“She does play up on stage in front of an orchestra. Linda is a trained concert violinist.” Gwen gave me a wink with her left eye.

“What is she doing here?” I was having a hard time swallowing that one.

“Doing what she loves. She loves rock bands. Roberta Love sent Linda a copy of your demo tape. Roberta wanted to know if they signed you if Linda would be interested in joining in the band. Linda canceled her date with the Philharmonic and here she is.”

“You’re kidding?” By now I was sure Gwen was pulling my leg.

“Bobby, your base guitar is from Jerry Daniels band. Amber, your lead guitar is from the Rodeo Girls band. Sharon, your drummer was playing for Brittney last week. Brenda on the keyboards was playing with Blackjack three days ago. Sherry on the mandolin was playing with Dalton and Gang in Houston Wednesday night.” Gwen was looking into my eyes to see if I was buying what she was selling.

“No way!” I was positive I was being lied to. There was no way a musician would quit a high end band or gig to play for an unknown.

“Yes way. They heard the tape, liked the idea of starting as Candy Masters Band and seeing if it went all the way to the top. They were at the pinnacle as far as the bands or in Linda’s case concert. They wanted to see if they could make that ride all over again. This time, if things work out they will be the band and not just another member in a top band. They like the idea and the challenge.”

She got serious. “They are betting their future you are top material and will make all of them stars. Don’t take away their dreams Candy.”

It was a responsibility I wasn’t prepared for. “And you? What are your dreams?”

“To make you the best damn singer and performer to ever hit the stage. We either go as a team or we don’t go at all. You have the gift. I’m just going to polish it if you let me.” She was studying me.

I held up my hand and looked at my red nails. It was a sigh as I motioned down the front of my dress with my right hand. “And this? This is part of the plan? Is this part of the polish you are working on?”

“Part of it, yes. You had the voice. You needed the looks to match if you were ever going to make it to the real money. Do you really mind? Is it that bad?” She waited for an answer as Linda finished up with her music.

“No, I guess I can adjust. I wish you had asked before you turned me into a Vegas Showgirl. I might not have agreed.” I took a deep breath to calm my emotions. I would have to flounce back on stage when the band picked up the next number.

“Smile Candy Masters. The audience wants to see lots of beautiful white teeth when you perform. Beautiful girls make it to the top, ugly ones don’t, no matter how good they can sing.” Gwen held my arm as the band led into the opening beat. On cue she gave me a nudge. “Go. Smile. Lift your skirts.”

And on cue I automatically flounced out on stage, spinning, and lip syncing to Cruel Lover. The audience screamed.

An hour later I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I was ready to collapse where I stood as the curtains closed and Gwen collected me. The other band set up and I found who we were the warm up for. The Boys Club wasn’t in the top ten but they were in the top twenty in the nation. I had heard some of their music. They were good but they were only good. With the right agent and the right breaks they might make it to the top ten but it wouldn’t happen on their vocals or their performance.

Our band split as we were through. Gwen led me back to the limo. I figured it was back to the hotel and then another week of practice before did another gig. When the limo pulled up to the curb I was looking at the Body Shop.

“Oh no. Now what?” I didn’t think there was anything else they could do to me.

Gwen opened the door, slid out and motioned for me to follow. “Come on.”

Dutifully I followed along unconsciously I licked my lips. “What happens now? They can’t be thinking I need something else? There is an end to this isn’t there?”

“A little more of that polish I was talking about.” She led the way into the store.

By two A.M. I was back in the hotel thinking I had dropped down a few more flights straight into Hell. Gwen’s little polish job consisted of shots in my breasts, and hips, and butt. I wasn’t big in those places but I didn’t like the idea of what they were doing to me. My padding wasn’t bad for a guy. The shots didn’t add a lot but it was the idea they added anything. And besides, it felt strange. It was another set of stair flights I had fallen down. I was headed straight into Hell. It was one more definitive door closing on my past life. Maybe it would all turn out to be a bad dream when I woke up in the morning?

Gwen helped me get out of the dress I was planted back in when the Body Shop finished with me. Not the red beaded and sequined dress I wore on stage that evening but a soft blue satin dress. I fell into bed wearing nothing but the birthday suit God gave me when I was born. Plus all the additions the Body Shop had trimmed my body with. The money wasn’t worth it. I would have gladly backed out if it was possible to have me back in one piece. I think I would even have crawled on my hands and knees to beg Merle Ackland and kissed his feet to get my old job back. If it were possible. But…, Miss Candy Masters had taken over my body. I wasn’t in any condition or position to change my life back now.

I fell into a fitful night of sleep filled with nightmares. The audience was screaming but it wasn’t because they liked me. They wanted my blood. They were swarming up on stage like ants. And they grabbed me and lifted me over their heads and I was sent out on a sea of hands to the middle of the swarm. They were screaming for my blood.

I woke in a sweat. I was rolled up tightly in my bed sheet. I fought my way free. My eyes were glued shut. I unconsciously started to pry them open and poked myself with those long damn fingernails. I was on a serious female learning curve. I tried again with using the flat of my fingers. When my fingers brushed up against the long eyelashes it came back to me what Gwen had said about irritating them. I stumbled to the bathroom feeling my way. I made the pee stop and stumbled back to bed. My breasts hurt, my butt hurt, I vaguely remembered those shots earlier in the evening and chalked it up to the medicine or whatever it was. With my eyes glued shut it didn’t take long to fall back asleep and more nightmares.

Jim and I were in the Indian town. That little Indian town…Clious or whatever. The Indian Princess was smiling at me. Sue handed me a little brown cup. It was full of a brown liquid. When I took the cup it burned my hands and I dropped it. The liquid rose up and wrapped itself around me and covered me and the Indian Princess pointed to a wall mirror. I looked into the wall mirror. I was looking at the Indian Princess only it was me.

“Lay still and let me put some drops in your eyes.” Was the distinctive voice of Gwen.

I slowly came out of my stupor. “Thanks. They are stuck again. I had to feel my way to the bathroom last night.”

“Sorry. Another week and they won’t mat up on you like that. You are speaking better this morning.” Came from the side of the bed.

I felt her lean over and the drops touched my eyes. “My mouth isn’t all dry like it was yesterday. My lips still feel swollen though.”

“Your lips are just fine. They aren’t swollen.” Came from a few feet from the bed.

I licked my lips. They weren’t any better than yesterday. I reached up and touched them with my fingers. “They aren’t swollen? Why do they feel so thick?”

“That’s the natural kiss me look girls want now days. It drives all the boys crazy. Your lips turned out beautifully. They have that deep liquid red, glossy shine to them. With those sweetheart lips every guy wants to know what it’s like to kiss you.” Was her response.

“Be still my foolish heart.” I put as much sarcasm in my voice as I could muster.

“Remember, beautiful girls sell. You take care of the voice, I‘ll handle the looks department.” She had moved across the room.

I could hear her taking clothes off hangers. “I couldn’t be lucky enough to be jeans and shirt day could I?”

“Not in this lifetime. That can come later. For now, you are the commodity we have to sell. We can’t sell you if you don’t look like star material. That means you look and project that Vegas Showgirl image you keep talking about. You do that full time. Next question?”

Fuzzy outlines were starting to appear in my vision as my eyes were slowly coming unglued. I could see her laying clothes on the bed. “When is the next rehearsal?”

“Everyday, all week. This is our job. It’s not a part time job but a real job. It’s not easy as most people think. It’s not as much fun as we make the public believe. We work our tails off because it is our job. When we aren’t rehearsing you will be working the public and the press for coverage. Next question.” She headed for the bathroom to turn on the shower.

I sit up on the edge of the bed as my eyes finally opened up. The long lashes were even more irritating than they were the first morning if that were possible. They felt heavy and they bothered my vision. And they made me look like a tart. And women really didn’t wear them that long. Not real women anyway. Only Vegas Showgirls and they took them off and left them on the dressing table when they left the club. I was positive mine were longer than any those girls wore.

The shower felt good. By the time I had brushed my teeth and wet my mouth, I felt a hundred percent better until I looked at the girl looking back at me from the mirror. I touched my lips. They looked wet. It was only an illusion. They had a sweetheart shape. They also looked swollen. At least I didn’t have to look at them or my eyelashes all day. Every time I looked at myself the first thing that jumped into my mind was tart. I tried real hard not to look.

Gwen helped me get dressed. There were the panties and then the corset. I felt like toothpaste when she laced me in. Then she called Lad in. He tightened up the laces some more and took up another four inches more or less around my waist that I didn’t have to spare to begin with.

I couldn’t breathe. “It’s too tight.”

“Relax. You are fighting it. Just relax and take shallow breaths.” Gwen coached me as she reached in the front of the corset. She pulled my breasts up and that hurt. They were tender to the touch.

“That hurt! They are sore this morning. What was that medicine they gave me? Are you sure they were suppose to give it there” I was trying to wiggle around inside that corset for relief.

“I’m positive they gave it in the right places. Yesterday they took samples of your tissue. They divided out the good cells and added stem cells to the mix. They reinjected you with your own tissue. The replaced cells regenerate until they are told to stop.” She picked up a black lace slip and waited.

“And that means?” I didn’t understand any of what she had told me.

“Science has learned how to make things grow by cell division. Because it is your own cells it doesn’t cause the body to reject it.” She held up the slip.

She had me hold my arms up and she dropped a full black lace slip down over my head. The beaded, sea foam, green gown was next. It had full sleeves and a draped, plunging neckline. There was enough of my breasts exposed it was daring. There was just a hint of the black lace slip showing with my breasts giving me that thought provoking bad girl look. The dress wasn’t belted. It didn’t need one. It hugged every curve of my body like paint. Those curves might have been pinched into place by a corset but I did have curves and cleavage even if I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you saying what I think you are saying? Are you telling me I’m growing my own breasts and that’s why they hurt?” I finally managed to say it even though I didn’t want to believe it.

“That’s it in a nut shell if you want to say it that way. The clinic prefers to call it body sculpture without the scalpel. Isn’t science great?” She had me sit down on the chair.

I looked down the front of my dress. “Just grand. And they are going to get how big?”

Black nylons with a seam up the back were next. I found out what those garter straps on corsets are for. There were four inch stiletto heels that matched the dress along with a matching shoulder purse. The long black pearl dangle earrings and black pearl choker was a plus along with diamond bracelets and a diamond watch.

Gwen stood back to study her handy work. “You look stunning.”

She didn’t fool me. I noticed she never answered how big my breasts were going to get. It was one more nail driven in the coffin of Dana Smyth’s past. A past I could never hope to return to. I hoped they had things under control. “I look…,”

“Like a rock star, Miss Candy Masters.” Gwen finished up for me.

That wasn’t the thought that was on my mind but I knew she was trying to get me to thinking along those lines. “Okay, I look like a Vegas Showgirl.”

“I’ll settle for that.” Gwen motioned toward the door. “Let’s go to work, Vegas Showgirl.”

Gwen’s idea of work was the Butterfield Restaurant, for breakfast. She steered me toward an empty table close to the door. She ordered eggs over easy, ham, biscuits and gravy for both of us.

It was impossible to not look around to see who was staring. Everyone was of course. No one dresses up in a beaded evening gown first thing in the morning for breakfast. No one except those who are asking for attention. Four men at a table straight across the room from me were staring. Involuntarily I batted my eyelashes and unconsciously ran my tongue across my lips. I would have never done something like that consciously. It was more than a flirt gesture. Flashing my big baby blues was flirting. Licking my lips was a sexual innuendo. Add both of them together and it’s an unspoken ‘let’s get together’ suggestion. I have to plead ignorance as I wasn’t doing either one in the manner suggested.

The men smiled. I blushed because they smiled at me not because I had any idea why they were smiling. If I had known the reason they were smiling, I would have jumped up and ran. Instead of fleeing I batted my lashes and licked my lips.

Gwen was watching me. “Perfect. You are doing it perfectly.”

“What?” Did she mean I was blushing perfectly?

The waitress brought our breakfast as everyone in the restaurant stared. I didn’t think two eggs would go down as tight as I was cinched into that corset. Funny how one’s appetite is suppressed when there isn’t any room to be hungry. I played with my eggs and managed to get one of them down one tiny bite at a time. With abundant use of my napkin to wipe my lips. They had gone from numb yesterday to over sensitive this morning. I kept licking them and wiping them because they felt…, swollen and strange.

We finished without eating most of what was on our plates. I managed most of one egg. Gwen did a number on the eggs and biscuit. Before we could leave, a lady walked up to our table.

“I was there at the concert last night. “May I have your autograph Miss Masters?” She placed a notepad on the table.

“Uh?” I looked over at Gwen who nodded in the affirmative as she pushed a pen across the table.

“Sure.” I had to think about it and take my time to sign Candy Masters. It wasn’t a name I had signed before.

“Me too, please.” A young man reached across from behind me and laid a sheet of paper on the table.

“And me.” A young lady was walking across the restaurant toward us.

“I want one too.” Came from some man behind me.

“Candy, we want an autograph. When is your next concert?” Came from a group of six people sitting three tables from us.

“Candy is performing this Friday in the auditorium the same place as yesterday.” Gwen answered as the people walked toward our table.

It took twenty minutes of signing autographs before we made it out of the restaurant and back to the limo. I was surprised. “What were so many people who saw the concert doing in the restaurant this morning?”

Gwen laughed as her eyes danced with delight. “Show business, girl. They were hired to be there.”

“Hired? By who?” I was working to figure out the equation in my mind.

“Matey Studios paid them to be there and ask for your autograph. The four gentlemen you kept making eyes at are newspaper men. They meet there every Saturday for breakfast. Each one of them is head of their respective papers. I can promise with you making eyes at them and giving them the come on, and the fans asking for your autograph, they are going to put reporters onto your story. You will be the topic of the town before your concert next Friday.” She sighed in contentment. “You did it perfectly.”

“But I wasn’t making eyes at them.” I was blinking as I said it.

Gwen shook her head as she watched me lick my lips. “Hon, I guarantee you, every male in that restaurant was having strong thoughts about jumping your body. Probably most of the women too. I don’t have an ounce of lesbian in me but your actions are irresistible. You have made me wonder what it would be like to kiss those luscious sweetheart lips.”

I gave that one some thought. Kissing some guy was alien to me. Gwen was anything but a guy. I reached over and pulled her in before she had a chance to protest. I planted a big passionate kiss on her and added a little tongue to stoke the fire.

She hesitated and then pulled me in. She added a little tongue of her own.

For whatever reason, it fell flat. Normally I would of had the girl lying down in the seat after a kiss like that. It just didn’t start my internal fires. It felt like I was kissing my brother or sister or aunt if I had one. Maybe it was like kissing the cat? There was nothing there. I chalked it up to the idea I was wearing a dress. My self image was shot to hell. Maybe it was the corset and I couldn’t breathe?

Gwen giggled as she pulled back. She reached up and touched my lips. “Nice kissable lips. I love them.”

“Okay, you can have them. Give my old ones back.” I slid over in the seat.

“Not in this lifetime. You are a commodity I’m selling. The packaging has to be better than everyone else is selling or it’s just another box of oats.” She gave a slight nod.

“I’d rather be a box of oats.” This talk of me being a commodity wasn’t setting too well. Maybe the idea I was still wondering what went wrong when I kissed Gwen was upsetting me?

“You tried that. Now we are going to repackage you and the public will eat it up.”

“I thought I was already repackaged? What else can you do that hasn’t already been done? These long nails keep me from doing anything with my hands. My eyelashes are too long and are irritating me. My lips are swollen.” I cupped my tiny little waist. “And I’m wearing a dress.”

“And looking better all the time, I might add. You had the voice to sell. I’m making sure people love and accept where that voice is coming from. You can’t have one without the other and make it work Candy.” She waited for my response.

I took a deep a breath as I could and sighed. “Okay.”

The musicians weren’t there at Matey Studios where Lad dropped us off. The audio guys were. And Gwen was a serious task master as we did one dance routine after another. She was constantly chiding me. “Smile Candy. The groupies want to see you smile. Exaggerated movements Candy. They can’t see you that good from the back row. Sing Candy, they want to hear you not just watch you dance.”

And we did. Gwen was always one step ahead of me, leading me, scolding me, encouraging me, and praising me. I worked my little tail off for her.

The same schedule was followed every day without a break . It was grueling and I was dying a little every day. I was sore, stiff, and tired. I figured out later why Gwen was holding me to such a meat grinder of a schedule. It served a dual purpose. It kept my mind off me and I was learning how to entertain an audience. It worked on both counts. It was weeks later before I thought about Jim and wondered if he ever made it back home to New York?

Tuesday we rehearsed with the band. I started learning the names of the girls and boy that had voluntarily formed the band. Sharon’s hands could turn into blurs when she did a hot drum beat. I was sure she was second to none on drums. I wasn’t the only one who thought that. When she dropped into a beat everyone within hearing range would start toe tapping as they were caught up in the beat with her.

My voice was slowly returning as the week rolled by. It’s amazing how quickly Tuesday can turn into Wednesday, and Thursday, and…, Suddenly it was Friday.

Gwen dropped in about six just as she had all week. “Show day.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” My eyes weren’t completely matted shut. I could see slivers of light and shadows.

She walked over and dropped some drops in my eyes. “Looking better.”

“They are still irritating me.” I waited for the drops to do their magic.

“That’s not such a bad thing. You keep batting your eyes at all the guys.” She was picking out a costume for me for the day.

“I do not. I’m blinking because they are irritated.” I wanted her to understand I wasn’t flirting with the guys.

“Same difference. You are the only one who thinks she isn’t making eyes at them.” She held up a vivid blue beaded chiffon dress with a full skirt.

I was finally able to see. “Who do we lead in for tonight? You haven’t mentioned any names all week.”

“You know them. Get dressed, we have a photo op with the press in forty minutes. If we are lucky they will run your pictures and do a couple columns about you in the evening paper. The early edition comes out at four. That will generate a few thousand more tickets if the guys do your story in the paper.” She laid the dress down on the bed.

“Okay.” I headed for the shower. Maybe I was adjusting? The idea wasn’t distasteful to me like it would have been a week back.

Lad and the limo were going to be a thing of the past after tonight. Matey Studios had paid for a weeks worth o f limo. I figured tomorrow it would be me and a second hand Yugo or a Ford Festiva if I was lucky. So far I had been too busy to see if that check from Diva Records was any good. I figured there was going to be a problem with that check. I didn’t have any identification except as Dana Smyth. I was positive there wasn’t a bank in the world that would cash a check for me when it was made out to Candy Masters.

Lad dropped Gwen and me off at Capital Photography Studio. The band members were already there. They were in costume dressed to the nines. The girls were wearing beaded evening gowns. Bobby was wearing a white tux with tails. I took a second look at Bobby. He had a wide mustache. It had to be fake. He didn’t have a mustache yesterday. The group looked like anything except a rock band. I could tell this was going to be a parody. Instead of shock on how wild they could look, they were going to try culture shock in the refined and sophisticated look.

One of the men motioned for me to join the group. “Miss Masters, in the center please.”

I took as deep a breath as I could as Gwen had me laced in and padded. I was cinched in all the right places and padded out in all the places a girl is suppose to stick out. I walked over between the rest of them and turned around. The staff was setting up a couple of cameras and lights. Behind us, another rolled out a poster with a southern mansion and trees printed on it.

“Let’s see.” One of the men was looking through his camera.

“Bobby, move into the middle beside Miss Masters and put your arm around her waist.” He rose up to look over the top of the camera while Bobby moved in beside me.

Bobby wrapped his arm around me. I glanced over at Gwen. I guess doubt was in my eyes. She smiled back. The cameras clicked.

“Bobby, stand behind Miss Masters. Okay, Miss Masters if you would, lean back in Bobby’s arms and look back up at him.” The second cameraman was adjusting lighting as he spoke.

“Are you okay?” I turned my head to look at Bobby.

He laughed. “It’s only publicity pictures Candy. Relax, I don’t bite.”

“Thank you.” I leaned back into Bobby, he wrapped his arms around me, I pulled his arms in and looked up over my shoulder at his face. The cameras were clicking away.

That was fine as far as it went but then I saw something in his eyes that spelled trouble. He was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me. I panicked as I squirmed out of his arms. The idea any guy wanted to kiss me made my nerves tighten up and my stomach roll.

“Blue drop.” The first cameraman called out.

They removed the poster of the mansion and rolled in a blue background.

“Everyone line up. Bobby, you are at the left, Miss Masters to the right. Everyone put their left hand on the shoulder of the one in front of them and turn sideways to left. Now turn half that back right and look toward the cameras. Hold it.” Cameras clicked away.

“Miss Masters, move to the other side of the room please.”

They were still taking pictures of the band as I did as they requested. There was another background set up and the second camera man turned in my direction to take pictures. Gwen had all of us changing outfits for different settings and poses. The last dress she had me put on was a soft pale blue. The material was ultra soft and light. I was only wearing a body brief underneath which was necessary for holding most of me in place. The low plunging neckline would have been nice if I had lots of cleavage to show. I was surprised I had some, actually my breasts were a small handful and more than expected after Gwen showed me how to position them. The idea I had breasts was pleasing to me when I looked in the mirror. I guess Gwen’s packaging concept was starting to take root in my mind.

The photographers had us group together for more pictures. This time the band was in jeans and tee shirts. I was the odd man out in the soft blue dress, nylons, heels and lots of jewelry. They wanted several pictures of Bobby with his arms around me. He was sitting to the left of me. I realized just how thin that dress was when Bobby put his hands around my waist. I guess I jumped.

Bobby laughed as a smile spread across his face. “Easy Candy.”

“Watch where you put your hands.” I gave him a quick look over my left shoulder as my heart raced up into my throat. I don’t know what he was feeling, my adrenaline was in full flow at the moment.

“I’m watching.” Bobby gave me a slight squeeze with his right hand.

I jumped again as I grabbed his hand. “Careful.”

They shot several pictures. “Okay, Bobby, Candy, we need some sizzle. Bobby put your right hand under her right breast.”

I tensed up as Bobby slid his right hand up flat against my rib cage under my right breast.

“Candy, smile and relax. I’m not looking for a deer in the headlights shot.” Came from the first cameraman.

I smiled as I rolled my eyes to the left to look at Bobby. I wanted to warn him this was just pretend and not get too personal.

Bobby leaned over my left shoulder and kissed me full on the mouth as he pulled me in tight. That’s when my world fell apart. I went straight past shock and into emotional meltdown. Then my emotions took over where my mind had stopped. My emotions kissed him back as my right hand came up and softly touched the back of his head. It was a signal the kiss was inviting. All done without my mind’s consent.

“We got it.” Came from the second cameraman.

Bobby finished the kiss. His eyes were dancing as he studied me. “Nice, very, very nice.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. What the hell did I just do! Part of me wanted to puke. That was the old mind logic thinking. Part of me wanted to grab him and drag him back in for another kiss. That was the hormones raging through my body. Just what the hell had they done to me at that Body Shop?

Gwen took my hand. “Time out. Let’s go take a break.”

In a stupor I let her lead me out of the room. She took me down to an office and sat me down in a chair. She was looking down at me. “I can tell that look. You liked it didn’t you?”

“NO! I mean…,” I was trying to figure out my emotions. “No.”

“Don’t give me that. You liked Bobby kissing you. Now you are trying to figure out why. Candy, you are a woman whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.” She folded her arms across her chest as she waited.

“No…, I…, it…,” Tears started leaking out of the corners of my eyes.

Gwen pulled up some tissue off the desk behind her and handed them to me. “Don’t get stains on the dress. Do you want to kiss Linda or Amber or the other girls?”

“I…, no.” That didn’t feel right either. I dabbed at more tears. Something was all screwed up inside me.

“Did you like kissing Bobby?” She was going for the last nail in my coffin.

I had to think about it as I dabbed at tears. “yes”

“Now that we have that out of the way, let’s go back and shoot some more pictures.” She backed up from in front of my chair.

“Do I have to let Bobby kiss me again?” I wasn’t sure I was ready for a repeat performance.

“It’s for the papers and tabloids Candy. Controversy sells. Miss Candy Masters and a certain member in her band are romantically engaged. It is good publicity to generate gossip. Gossip means people are talking about you. If people are talking about you the papers like to run articles about who people are gossiping about. It’s self generating news, people talk, papers print, people talk.”

She walked over and held open the door. “Think about it this way. Each kiss is worth about one million dollars in free publicity. We would never be able to buy that kind of publicity.”

I stood up and wiped off the last of the tears. “I can handle that.”

“Bobby is going to kiss Linda, Sherry, Brenda, and Amber. He’s going to be playing the field while he’s the only boy in the band. I don’t want you to get jealous.” She mentioned as I walked past her out the door.

“Jealous?” I never could tell when Gwen was leading me on or when she was working toward a goal.

“Oh, I see the tabloid headlines now. Candy Masters threatens to fire her guitar player when she finds him messing around with the violinist. Miss Masters says she won’t play second fiddle to anyone.” Gwen giggled as she said it.

I had to laugh with her. Where in the world she came up with some of those ideas of hers was a puzzle. The woman had a warped mind. Even more warped than me. “Second fiddle? Woman, you are one sick puppy!”

“Agreed.” She laughed with me as we headed back to the photo shoot.

I watched as they took pictures of Bobby kissing the other girls. It dawned on me about the time he was kissing Amber I had thought of him as kissing the “other” girls. I stepped over to the full length mirror they had in the studio and took a look. The liquid red, full sweetheart lips, the too long, extra thick and lush lashes, the gracefully arched eyebrows, and long blond platinum hair left no doubt I was looking at a woman. I brought my right hand up and touched my right breast. The long, long, sharp, liquid red fingernails were part of the total package. And yes, I had breasts. The soft blue dress caressed gentle curves on a feminine body. There was no lingering doubt, I was one of the girls.

Gwen had been watching as I looked in the mirror. I think she knew what I was coming to terms with. She walked up beside me, put her arm around my shoulder and looked back at me through the mirror. “There’s a woman there Candy. Not fully developed yet but most certainly a woman. The wish isn’t finished.”

“Wish?” I was missing part of the conversation.

She laughed as her eyes danced. “There’s work left this morning. You have to add to the gossip mill by playing the field.”

“Just what do you mean, playing the field?” I was growing suspicious again. Every time Gwen left little innuendoes I dropped another level further down into purgatory.

“Bobby isn’t the only one you are romantically involved with. Hon, you are one hot girl. You think someone as hot as you is going to be dating only one guy? Not on your life. You are dating two more that we know of and we have pictures to prove it.” She was leading me back over in front of the cameras.

“And who am I dating?” I could sense trouble the size of a truck headed my direction.

“We don’t know their names, but some savvy paparazzi was able to take some pictures.” She motioned with her hand for the first cameraman to step up.

I guess my eyes grew two sizes as he stepped up in front of me.

He was smiling from ear to ear. “Let me see if I can get this right without help from the cameraman.”

He wrapped his arms around me and was leaning me back.

It was reflex reaction when he started leaning me back to throw both arms around his neck to keep from falling backwards. When I did that, he kissed me.

“The angle was wrong. Dave, all I caught was your back to the camera. Candy has to be plainly visible for it to be a paparazzi shot.” Came from the second cameraman.

Dave took his time about giving up his kiss. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stood me back up. “Darn, I thought I was doing it right.”

From what I could see in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing. He ruined that camera shot on purpose.

He gave a slight turn of the body and again I was leaning over backwards with my arms around his neck holding on as he kissed me.

“Dave, take your time but next time I want both of you in the picture, not your back and her shoulder.” Came from the second cameraman.

Dave did take his time before he let me back up. “Darn, you mean we are going to have to do this again? What a cameraman has to go through for his job and country. Some times it’s all a body can stand.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, now turn so Candy is in the picture, fuzzy brain.” Came from the second cameraman.

We did six more shots before they decided they had one they liked. I wasn’t sure I liked any of them. And then the second cameraman, Arland, took his turn at kissing me while Dave took the pictures. Arland made sure he was as bad at getting in front of the camera and ruining the shot as what Dave had been. From never kissing any man to kissing three of them a couple dozen times in one morning was working on my mind and my emotions. Part of me liked it, part of me wanted to scream and run. By the time Gwen had me change dresses three more times and go through the kissing routine each costume change, I wasn’t in that much of an emotional upheaval. It was part of the job, I kept telling myself.

Gwen had me change into an ultra soft powder blue dress before we left the studio. The dress had silver thread or something as it sparkled like diamond dust in the sun. It was so soft it clung to my body like static electricity. I kept checking to make sure I was wearing a dress it was so light and soft.

The next stop was back at Matey Studios where a dozen news photographers and a couple cameramen were set up in the parking lot.

“Planned this didn’t you? What did you tell them to get them to show up?” I was looking at Gwen before she opened the door after Lad pulled up to the curb.

“Someone must have broke the story about you and Bobby. Maybe it was the one about you are ready to release your album? Could have been their bosses told them to get some pictures after that incident in the restaurant this week.” She opened the door and slid out.

She was waiting as I stood up beside her and before the cameras moved in. “What incident in what restaurant?”

“Saturday morning where you were flirting with all the guys and inviting them to your hotel room.” She gave a smile.

“I DID NOT!” I knew what she was saying was the truth but I wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“Smile at them Candy. They like to see lots of teeth. It makes for good pictures and makes them happy to write about you or talk about you on TV.” She closed the door and Lad moved the limo away.

A smile spread across my face. If I had to do this then I was going to do my best but I wasn’t going to make those subtle sexual innuendoes like I had been doing. A small breeze brushed against me. It caused those long lashes to flutter and that caused me to blink my eyes.

The reporters thought I was flirting with them.

Out of habit and unconsciously I ran my tongue across my wet, glossy red, swollen, sweetheart lips.

The reporters knew I was inviting them back to my hotel room. They all wanted an interview and pictures of the siren in the powder blue dress.

Gwen was watching the reporters and me. She was elated. As the reporters crowded around she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Keep it up honey. You are driving them crazy.”

Those long lashes were driving me crazy also as they irritated my eyes and I blinked. I couldn’t help it. It was like a constant itch that had to be scratched. There was no way I could wipe them with my fingers. I would put an eye out with those long fingernails. I might look sexy and cute but not from my side. All I wanted was to get the photo op over with and move in out of the wind.

The reporters moved in close, real close. One of the female reporters took a close look. “Her eyelashes are real. I’ll be darn.”

“She’s a real Vegas Showgirl.” The woman added as she backed up and her cameraman locked in with his video camera. “Candy, I was at the concert last Friday and was wondering if that was your last warm up act? Tonight you are the act. Does this mean you are through as a warm up for other bands?”

I glanced over at Gwen as I wondered how much of that was set up by her before this interview?

Gwen stepped forward. “Candy Masters has answered her many fans, many requests. They have asked her to be the star and she has responded. She is taking her band on the road. Tonight it’s Albuquerque, next week she will be back in Vegas at the Garden Towers for a two week performance. A copy of her concert schedule will be given to you after the interview.”

“Jack?” She pointed at one of the television reporters.

“Candy how long have you been performing? Where have you…”

Gwen cut him off. “Candy Masters has been performing in Vegas where she will return for the next two weeks. She has performed under Diva Records in New York. Please everyone here will receive a free pass to Candy’s concert tonight. Come and see for yourselves. Candy is the singer on her way to the top of the billboards.”

There were a couple dozen more questions from the reporters. Gwen handled them all nicely before she told me to pose for the reporters. I did as she asked. It seemed like it was thirty minutes or more before she cut the photo opportunity session and led me into Matey Studios.

My eyes hurt from the wind and the strain. I didn’t dare rub them. “Do you have any of those eye drops on you?”

“No but Susan does.” Gwen walked up to the front counter and leaned over the top. “Eye drops for Candy.”

“Got some.” Susan set a bottle up on the counter.

Gwen motioned me to lean my head back and then she dropped some eye drops in each eye.

It wasn’t instant relief but it was getting better. “Thanks.”

“We go over to the auditorium for a short workout with the band. Then we take a break until your concert tonight.” She was headed back out front.

I was trying to keep up with her. To my surprise the reporters and cameras were gone. “Jeeze, didn’t take them long to gather up and leave did it.”

“They had their story. They have a schedule to keep same as you. Everyone has a schedule Candy. The television crew wants to get their editing done for the six o’clock news. The newspaper reporters want to get their stories typed up and matched with their best pictures before the evening paper comes out at five. And if it doesn’t rain a couple hundred more people will call in for tickets.” Lad had brought the limo back and Gwen slid in after opening the door.

I followed her into the limo shutting the door behind me. “It doesn’t look like rain to me.”

She smiled. “Now you are getting the big picture. It’s all a game Candy. We work the press and they work the people. We sell more tickets, they sell more papers or go up in ratings if it’s television, and everyone wins.”

“And me?” I wondered if I was going to end up as so many other hopefuls? Working one night stands in beer joints from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back. I could do that until I was too old and too ugly even for the drunks to appreciate. I would finish up as a bag lady pushing my shopping cart down the alleys of some nameless city telling, everyone who would listen, I use to be a star as I dumpster dived for another half cent aluminum can. And…, to top it all off, that bitch I had been married to and her damn lawyer would probably be by every week wanting their cut of my finds.

Gwen gave me a wink. “Beautiful girls sell Candy. Beautiful girls who flirt sell even better. Everyone at that photo opportunity thought you were flirting with them or inviting them back to your hotel. I promise you, they were all dying to see what it would be like to kiss your lips.”

“But…,” I started to tell her I wasn’t flirting.

She held up her hand. “Sweety, they will go back and write their stories and be thinking about only you when they do. They will write a story, describing the best they can, your eyelashes and how beautiful and gorgeous they are. They will write about your sweetheart lips and how they are begging to be kissed. And they will write about you and your sexy figure because all they could see was you. And when they are through writing, people will come because they will want to see and hear for themselves.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” There I had said it and I meant it.

“We know that but they don’t and I’m not telling.” Gwen’s eyes were dancing with delight.

It was a short drive over to the auditorium. The band and I worked our butts off in rehearsal to make sure we were in sync with one another. Everyone in the band may have been accomplished musicians and singers. Bringing it all together with those one hasn’t worked with before took practice. So practice we did.

Linda did a duet with me and a solo in that practice session. Man could that girl sing. She had so much talent. It was then I realized talent only goes so far in this business. One could be the best there is and not advance beyond the little country clubs and bar rooms. There had to be the promoters like Gwen who pushed all the right publicity angles before one became a headliner and started making more than motel rent and gas money.

We were taking a break in the back before our opening as a local band by the name of the Dusters was warming up the audience. “Please, I’d like everyone’s attention.”

The room got silent as they turned to look. “I…, uh…, aw poop. In the two weeks I’ve come to know all of you and what you gave up to become a part of this adventure. Thanks. I know I’m not the leader nor am I the reason for the success we had so far. You guys are. That includes Gwen and all those behind her pushing the promotions. Each of you is so talented and gifted in your own right. Each one of you should be center stage. I know I’m only the pretty wrapper, thanks again to Gwen. The real talent is all of you. If I ever get the fat head and start thinking I’m the talent in this group, please reel me back in. Send me out on stage by myself without the support of each of you making me look good. That would be a real embarrassing moment and a reality check.”

“Gwen told me what each of you gave up in your successful careers to join this band. I pray I don’t let you down or we don’t let each other down. Each one of us is valuable to the success or failure of what happens from here on out. We are a team and like any team, all it takes is one to bring it all down. There are going to be good moments, bad moments, and squabbles among us. Someone will get pissed over a wrong whether real or imagined and decide their old job wasn’t that bad as they pack up to leave.”

Looking over at Gwen I knew it would happen. It always does with any group. I just hoped it didn’t get so bad someone really left. “If any of you get to the point where you believe you aren’t being treated fairly. If you think one of the others pissed in your Cheerios. Talk it over with Gwen or me. If we can’t sooth over hurt feelings I’ll rent a boxing ring. You can beat each other’s brains out until some sense is knocked back into your heads.”

“I pray I don’t say or do something where anyone gets so mad at me they want to quit. Since I’m the greenest member here in this group I ask each and every one of you to give me advice and guide me. Let me know if I’m out of line. Which I imagine will happen pretty often.”

Walking over to where Gwen was standing I picked up her hands and looked into her eyes. “Every one of them is star material. Give them the chance to shine up front center stage. Give the rest of the world a chance to know each one. I remember an old number called Wipeout focused around the drummer. Sharon is second to none. Amber can make a guitar talk like none other. Brenda’s hands turn to magic on the keyboard. Sherry handles a mandolin like it was made for her. Bobby can rattle the rafters with his base guitar. Linda makes a violin sing like no other.”

“Open up some numbers for each of them. I don’t want this to be about me. If we are successful it’s a team effort.”

Gwen’s eyes were dancing as she held onto my hands. “If we are successful? There isn’t an if in there. As you pointed out and drove it home. It is a team effort for success.”

She turned and looked at the others. “Right?”

They all gathered round Gwen and me in a group hug. “Goooooooo Team.”

Four years later watching from the side of the stage as the others went through several songs, I wondered how I could be so lucky? We did two tours around the world in that time. Every one in the band was still enjoying what they were doing. If one has a job they love, it really isn’t a job. Gwen finished her body sculpture on me before that first year was past tense. I would always be a Vegas Showgirl after what the clinic had done. I thought it was extreme even if I did give my consent. The times we flew commercial I would usually be pulled off to the side by TSA. They got to see was all girl from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. Gwen reminded me I projected well to the audience. As long as I didn’t act like a prima donna that is. Yes, I got out of hand several times with the big head. Luckily the others and Gwen were there to deflate my fat ego and reel me back in each time I got to thinking I was something.

Gwen walked up beside me and held out her hand.

I was looking at a brown cup. “What?”

She smiled as I took the cup. “This one holds no wishes. Sue hopes you enjoy the life you wished for.”

I stared at the cup wondering if it was really possible to fill a cup with a wish? But then that meant Gwen had to be a part of my wish. And how did Sue know what was in my heart? I never told anyone. Looking at Gwen I shook my head. “And you’re part of my wish? What about your life?”

She smiled. “I was rock collecting and ended up on a dead end road with a quaint little town out in the middle of nowhere. I purchased a cup like the one you’re holding. Sue said it contained my wish and when it was broken it could no longer hold the wish. I packed it carefully. The next day a coyote ran out in front of my van. I slammed on the brakes, everything was thrown forward. The box of rocks I had collected ended up on the bag in which I had so carefully packed my cup.”

Nodding in agreement I laughed. “And the cup was broken releasing the wish.”

She smiled. “I worked for years for Maty Records as an expediter. I was the go to person for whatever was needed and no one else could find or fix. I made good money. I wanted more. I wanted to take an unknown and make them the one the crowds went wild for. I wanted to be the manager not for the money but because I could do it better than anyone else in the business.”

“Of course in this business that would be almost impossible. I didn’t have a company, I had no references, and no one but an off beat garage band would even consider me as a manager. You have heard them. They show up at the local club, belt out a few off key numbers thinking they are the next Elvis.”

That made me wince as I remembered when I first stepped into the studio for a demo. “No one could be as bad as I was.”

She gave me a hug. “The Swan was there all along. All you needed was a little polish to shine.”

Pointing out to the others winding up their number, I was curious. “And each of them?”

She turned her attention to the rest of the band as the audience screamed their approval as the number finished. “No broken cups but they have what they wanted. They aren’t part of a band. They are the band. Each one taking over the spotlight in turn and becoming exactly what they always wanted. Someone who could play their instrument and possibly sing better than anyone else at that moment. The audience knows each one by name. Each member has their own fan club.”

Gwen looked back and smiled. “You see Dana Smyth, Candy Masters wish was a gift to all of us.”

Pulling her in I gave her a long hard kiss on the lips before I bounced out on stage waving my arms. My mike was hidden in my hair. Only those at the foot of the stage would be able to tell I had one. “Aren’t each and everyone of those in the band talented? Please, give them another round of applause to show how much we appreciate the tremendous effort each of them puts out to be on this stage.”

The audience had rose to their feet screaming when I bounded out on stage. Now they redoubled their screaming and shouting as they clapped their appreciation. I let them go on for a full minute before I turned back to the band and nodded. “On three, My Only Love.”

The band wound into the number. The audience slowly quieted down to hear the music. I flounced across the stage singing. Bobby and Linda filled in the chorus and harmony.

=======================================================================

My ex wife, Catherine, and her lawyer were married a couple months after she divorced me. It was a year after I signed on with Matey Records I went back to New York court to try and stop the alimony. Gwen talked Matey Records into loaning me their lawyer, Diana Karoll. She teamed with another New York lawyer, Mindy Nadin. Before court appearance they scheduled me with a gynecologist, Dr. Rebecca Woodson. All of us ended back up in court.

These things don’t work like the movies. There wasn’t a jury and I wasn’t placed on the witness stand. It was Catherine’s lawyer husband, Bryan telling the judge why I should keep on paying alimony and making payments for a house I didn’t live in. Then Mindy had a chance to tell the judge why I shouldn’t have ever had to pay to begin with and all past debt should be voided.

Judge Haroldson kept looking back at me during most of that court session. He didn’t believe them when they claimed I was a man. The really soft clinging pale blue satin dress I wore to court that day left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The scoop neck barely covered my nipples. The hem was cheerleader short. I ‘forgot’ to put on a bra and slip and the thong panty outline was plainly visible.
Wasn’t my fault there was so much static electricity in the air that dress clung like a second skin and kept hiking up.

“Dr. Woodson, do you hold a medical license in the state of New York?” The judge was questioning the Dr.

“Yes I do your honor. I’ve been practicing medicine as a licensed gynecologist for twenty three years.” She responded.

He nodded. “And exactly what gender would you in your opinion define Miss Masters?”

She looked over at me and nodded. “Miss Masters is a woman in virtually every respect as far as I in my lifetime experience can tell.”

“In every respect?” He was studying me.

“Yes your honor. In virtually every respect.”

He turned his full attention on me. “Miss Masters what is it you do?”

“I’m a professional entertainer your honor.”

His eyebrows went up. “Professional entertainer!”

That caught me off guard. I could tell what kind of entertainer he might be thinking of the way I was dressed. “uh…, not that kind your honor. I’m a singer with a band.”

I thought he was going to chuckle over that one but he managed to contain it. “What is the name of the band Miss Masters?”

“We are UF2, your honor.”

“U F too?”

“Yes sir.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is kind of an acronym your honor. It’s not official but it stands for Ultra Fine Too or Ultra Fine Also.”

He nodded. “I guess that would explain why you thought it would be okay to come to my court dressed the way you are. Miss Masters this is not a stage for your performance. If you EVER return to my court I expect you to be dressed in a more conservative manner like your legal counsel and doctor. Are we clear?”

Bowing my head in shame, even though I wasn’t because I knew the way I was dressed had the desired effect. There wasn’t any doubt in the judge’s mind I was all woman. “Please excuse my ignorance and lack of respect for your court your honor. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Diana gave me a pinch on the leg under the table. One could call it a high five under?

From the look in his eyes I was positive that old judge would have welcomed me back in his court dressed the way I was as he cleared his throat. “Thank you Miss Masters. I find for the defendant Mrs Catherine Smyth-Johnson the claim Miss Masters owes continuing alimony. Void.”

“I find for the plaintiff, Miss Masters her grievance she is paying unjust alimony to be true. The courts should have been notified and this should have been corrected at the time Mrs Smyth-Johnson married Mr. Bryan Johnson. In the interest of legal fairness Mr. Johnson being a lawyer and legal expert abused the system in not notifying the courts at the appropriate time. Thus I agree with Miss Master’s legal counsel the back payments and interest is also null and void.”

Catherine’s husband stood up. “Your honor I object.”

The old judge gave Bryan a frown. “Mr. Johnson, you should count yourself and your wife extremely lucky Miss Masters is not suing you for her legal fees and emotional stress. You tried gaming the legal system and it caught up with you. My judgment stands.”

Bryan wouldn’t let it go. “I’ll appeal.”

The judge looked at him, at me, at him and shook his head. “Okay then, I dismiss your lawsuit with prejudice and grant Miss Master’s lawsuit with prejudice.”

My ex looked at her husband. “What does that mean?”

He was glaring at me. “Means we can appeal but it won’t do any good. She…, he…, whatever that abomination is doesn’t even have to show up in court to defend herself…, itself.”

=====================================================================

Looking at the audience from backstage in Atlanta I had the beginnings of a song playing in my mind.
If you had a cup of wishes
What would that wish be for you
Would you wish for something grand
And would that wish be true

If you had a cup of wishes
Would you hold them never let go
Thinking planning that wish forever
Growing old every wish just so

If you get a chance to catch one of our concerts come and see us. Gwen said she would have most of the schedule arraigned for next season by next week. You won't be disappointed in the talent any of our band members has. I'd say they are gifted each in her and his own way. I still find it hard to believe they would give up what they had to join up with a new unknown when each of them was already known in their own right.

As a reminder.

Linda is violin
Bobby,is the base guitar. He is from Jerry Daniels band.
Amber, is our lead guitar. She's from the Rodeo Girls band.
Sharon, is our drummer. She was playing for Brittney.
Brenda on the keyboards was playing with Blackjack.
Sherry plays the mandolin, banjo, guitar, and darn near everything else. She was playing with Dalton and Gang.