Mistaken For A Girl Singer - Chapter 11

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“Enjoy your last few days of anonymity, girls, because a month from now, everyone's going to know your names and faces!” 

Alan said as he escorted them towards the front door of the building.  Their driver was standing and waiting.  

“Willy!” Chris hollered, “We’re done! The album’s done!” He yelled as he hustled over to give Willy a hug.  

“That's not what I heart, darlin’” Willy returned the hug. He'd started to feel like Chris was his own daughter by now. He loved Chris’ enthusiasm. 

“I hear that you're just getting started.”  

“Evenin’ Willy,” Alan smiled and patted Willy on the shoulder.  

“Evenin’, Alan. How did it go?”  

“Stellar, Willy, just stellar. 

These girls are stars, I'm telling you. Especially that one you've got. She's a sweet little thing out here, but, Lordy, she is a spitfire when she sings and plays,”  Willy laughed and gave Chris a firmer hug.  

“Hey,” interjected Gina, “How come you sound so Southern all of a sudden?”  

“Do I?” Alan asked. “Haha, I guess that when Willie and I get together, I fall back on how I talked when we were boys?”  

“You grew up together?” Asked Margo.  

“Sure did,” chuckled Willie. “Two, dirt poor, hard to manage boys, raising hell together.”  

“No kidding?” Said Terry, “And now you work for Allan?”  

“Oh, no, no, no,” Alan laughed. “Willy is an entrepreneur with his fingers in lots of pies. The limo service is just one of them. As a matter of fact, Willy loaned me the money to start this company 25 years ago.”  

“You’re rich?” asked Chris a bit confused.  

“I'm comfortable,” Willy laughed and Alan rolled his eyes.  “Then why do you drive the limos? Can't you hire someone to do that?” asked Grace.  “I can and I do, but I had a driver call in sick a few weeks ago and I covered for him. 

That's when I met this remarkable little girl, right here,” he gave Chris a playful squeeze. “I was so impressed by her that I wanted to be the driver whenever you girls needed a lift.”  

“Wait a minute!” Said Chris as something occurred to him. “That day I bought you lunch. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. If you're so rich, why didn't you order something better?” 

 “Cause I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, but you seemed to want me to have that fillet mignon. How could I say no to a beautiful thing like you?” and they headed to the car.  

As they pulled away from the building, Chris, who was sitting up front, said, “Willy, where can I buy a nice dress for tomorrow night? Something classy and grown up?”  

The girls who were chatting in the back stopped and Terry said, “Chrissie, babe, it's not going to be formal. Allan said it's just a nice, restaurant. Any nice dress will do.”

 “No. It's a big deal for me, not just because of the album, but because I get to throw away this hideous bra tomorrow. I want to be fitted for a pretty bra and a pretty dress. I've been a frumpy old lady for too long. I want to be pretty.”  

“Oh, my God, we've created a diva!” 

Gina joked and everyone laughed.  

“Bra fitting!? Since when is Chris the girliest of all of us?” 

Grace joined in the gentle teasing.  

“I know just the place, darlin’,” Willy said. “It's a nice shop for ladies over on the South End. If you want, I'll drop the girls off and take you there.”  

“Is that ok, Chris?” Terry asked. “I was really looking forward to relaxing down in the hot tub, but I'll come with you if you want.”  

“I'll be fine, sis.”  

“I'll join you, baby girl,” Margo said. “I could use something nice, too. I've been in sundresses,  jeans, and yoga pants since the second day we were here. I could stand to be a little girlier, too.”  

They dropped off Gina, Grace, and Terry at the hotel. Terry gave Chris a kiss on the cheek through the open car window. 

She leaned in and whispered into Chris’s ear, “I can't believe I'm sending my baby brother out on his own for a new dress and a bra fitting. Wait till I tell Mom.”  

Chris smiled and gave her an excited shrug, “I want tomorrow to be amazing! We made beautiful music together, now I want to be as beautiful as you guys.”  Terry kissed him again, “You're always beautiful, precious. 

You were beautiful before you ever put on a dress. I hope you know that.”  Chris smiled. Terry saw sheer joy on his face, like a high school girl going shopping for a dress for prom or homecoming. 

Sweet, feminine excitement. 

“I love you, sissy,” he said. He hadn't called her ‘sissy’ since they were very, very young.  Terry was touched and her eyes became watery. 

“I love you, too, Sissy,” she said and stood back so the car could pull out.   

Margo and Chris were escorted to a fitting area. They had already told the woman fitting them that they were fine doing this together.  “How old are you girls?” Her tag said her name was Courtney.  

“I'm nineteen.”

 “Seventeen.”  

“Are you sisters?” Courtney asked.  “Nearly,” Margo gave a half-laugh as she said, “Chrissie’s twin sister and I have been friends for years. Her sister was too busy to come tonight, so I'm her chaperone.”  Courtney looked Margo over. 

The country-style, mid-thigh dress she was wearing was obviously from a discount store, but the boots were pricey. Maybe they could afford some nice lingerie, after all. She'd find out.  “What is your name, darling?” 

 “Margo.”  

“Ok, Margo. Let's start with you so your little friend.”  

“Chrissie,” Chris said when he realized she was asking his name. 

“Chrissie sees how it's done. Now, can you lower your top so that I can measure you properly?”  

“Sure,” said Margo, as she lowered the elastic top of the dress and pulled her arms through, revealing her well-developed chest.  

“Well, that's a pretty bra,” Courtney complimented Margo as she worked with detached, professionalism and she took measurements. She took several around the cups to ensure a good fit and one around the band.

 “You're wearing a 36D. That seems like a good choice, but I think I can show you a few styles that may flatter you even more than this bra. 

Although, this is a good choice, too. Nice eye for fashion, young lady.”  Margo smiled, “Thank you.”  

Courtney called an assistant to bring a selection of bras for Margo.  When she turned to begin working with Chris, Courtney said, “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” She brushed Chris’s cheek with her fingertips, “I think our little lady, here, is a bit nervous. Look how flushed she is. 

Don't worry, child. A woman’s first bra fitting is a rite of passage. I won't hurt you.”  

In fact, as much as he really wanted to be properly fitted for a bra, Chris was a bit nervous about doing this, but he was flushed because he was looking at Margo. 

He'd seen her walk around the hotel room in a sports bra many times and he'd seen her in a fairly revealing pajama top, but he'd never seen her wearing something this intimate and beautiful. 

Not only did he want to touch and kiss those beautiful breasts, he wanted to look that beautiful for her. He wanted her to want to touch and kiss his breasts, too. His dick was straining in his tight, little gaff between his legs. His knees were weak. 

He wanted her to take him right here and right now.  

Margo saw the passion in his face. She raised her eyebrows in approval and took a deep breath, raising and lowering her breasts as she did so, and she gave Chris her best, “I love you, too,” smile before Courtney’s assistant returned with a handful of bras for Margo.  

“Just put them there, please, Rebecca.” She turned to Chris, “Now, young lady, would you rather that I do this in private or should your friend stay?”

Chris snapped out of his stupor and said, “Stay. Please, Margo, stay.”  Courtney just saw a cute, nervous, inexperienced, young woman who was eager for the trappings of womanhood. She thought that her jitters were adorable.  

“Don't worry, sweetie. I won't hurt you. Now, lower your top.”  

Suddenly, Chris thought that maybe this was a bad idea. What if she could tell. Cautiously, he lowered the top of his dress as Margo had done, revealing the prescription bra he had been wearing since the surgery.  

“Oh, honey, oh, no, no, no, a beautiful thing like you needs to be covered in beautiful things. Not that thing. Don’t worry, child. Courtney is here and she'll take care of you. When you leave today, you are going to feel like a goddess.”  

Chris gave a delighted, but modest smile as Courtney went to work. 

As she measured his cup size, each graze of a finger sent an electric shock through his body, directly to his groin. He was both horrified to feel such an erotic thrill in public and titillated nearly to the point of orgasming right there.  

“32B,” Courtney said to her assistant. “Same selection as the other young lady, please.”  Moments later, Chris and Margo were in separate booths trying on their bras. Each one felt more heavenly than the one before. The soft, satin-lined cup held and caressed the breasts and enhanced their figures beyond anything that either of them had ever worn before.  When they emerged, Margo was wearing a soft lace, silver bra under her dress that gave her a much more natural look than she had ever pulled off before. 

Chris was wearing a light blue, balconette style that shaped his new assets into perky, half-orbs.  When each girl said that they'd each take all the bras they'd been shown, totaling nearly $600 per girl, Courtney was impressed.  “And you need a dress, too, darling, right?”  “Yes,” Chris smiled, a bit excited. 

“I don't want to look like the youngest in the room tomorrow. I want to look well womanly, you know. I want to be beautiful and womanly. Does that make sense?”  

“I understand, baby,” Margo said, and she did understand. Chris had really come alive in the studio, and even though 

Allan and Mark were in charge of the recording, and Chris ran everything else. He worked with the girls as a colleague, coach, and cheerleader. 

Everything worked when Chris was there and everything was difficult when he wasn't. Margo played with his hair and smiled at him.  

“A well-tailored suit, perhaps?” 

Courtney asked, pulling a power suit from the rack.  

“No, I don't think so. I still want to be pretty and it's more of a celebration with business being discussed than a business meeting.”

“Ahh, perhaps this,” Courtney pulled out a little, silk, black dress with a revealing, but not slutty, neckline that was designed to reach just below mid-thigh for a manageable, but sexy glimpse of leg.  

“Oh, it's beautiful,” gasped Margo. 

“Try it on, Chrissie, you'll look incredible.”  Chris was in awe of the dress. “Is this too much?”  

“I bet you'll love it when you put it on, baby,” Margo encouraged. “Please, just try it on.”  Chris looked at Courtney, “How much is it?” 

 “Only $1,268.00,” she said.  Chris, who was wearing a dress that he really liked, but one for which he had only paid $18 at Old Navy, said, “Twelve hundred dollars!? 

I don't think my mom paid that much for her wedding dress!”  

“Probably not, babe,” said Margo, pushing Chris to a booth to try on the dress, “but your mother never signed a record contract that could make her millions AND your mom was never as hot as you are.” She pushed Chris in and closed the door behind him. 

“Don't come out till you have that dress on!” She fake-scolded through the door.  When he came back out, the dress hung on him as if he'd been sewn into it. The top hugged his breasts and showed the cleavage created by his new breasts and new bra, then enhanced his narrow waist and butt to look even more feminine.  

Margo’s hand flew to her chest and she looked about to cry, “Oh, my God, you're gorgeous!”  

Courtney was not done. She offered Chris a pair of pointy-toed, black shoes with a three-inch heel and helped him put them on. Then she gathered his hair and neatly twisted and piled it on his head. 

“If I could make a suggestion, if you were to wear your hair up, you could pull off a kind of an Audrey Hepburn look, don't you think, Miss Margo?”  

All Margo could think about right now, though, was getting her sweet, beautiful, feminine boyfriend home so she could put him in a nightie and show him what it's like to be a woman.

When the elevator doors opened, Grace was standing and waiting for the car. Chris and Margo pulled themselves apart. Their lipstick was just a bit smeared, but it was the guilty looks on their faces that made Gracie giggle.  

“Oh, hi, girls,” she said.  Margo looked at Grace’s nice outfit and said, “Are you going out?” 

“Yep. Rick, that cute techie who set up the microphones all week, he asked me to go to a movie,” her eyebrows played around her forehead with excitement.  

“Cool. Have a great time.” 

Margo said as she and Chris exited the elevator car and Grace moved in. 

 As the doors closed, Grace stopped them with her hand and called, “Oh, Terry and Gina just went down to the hot tub about five minutes ago. We had dinner in the restaurant downstairs and it took quite a while. Anyway, they'll probably be downstairs for at least a couple of hours, so, you have the place to yourselves.” 

She gave a knowing smile and let the doors close.  The moment they entered the suite, they were in each other's arms, kissing each other passionately. 

He, too, was winded and flushed from the experience.  When she'd caught her breath, she offered Chris her hands so he could stand. “Come here,” she said as she pulled his head to her shoulder. “I love you.”  

“I love you, too.”  

“Ok, ladies, jump into a chair and let Jeanine and her crew get to work on you. We’ve got a lot to do and only a few hours in which to do it!” 

Ellen called out as they climbed out of the town car. 

There was a large tent set up as a makeup studio/dressing room for the photo shoot on a charming farm, about an hour outside of Nashville.  

Since that first day in Nashville, Chris had kept as much space between him and Ellen as possible, but now that the actual recording was done, Chris knew that he would have to see more of her and he dreaded it.  

Chris took the center chair with Gina and Grace on his right and Terry and Margo on his left. 

They had met Jeanine in passing earlier in the week and they knew that she was their stylist, but they were all nervous about how they would be presented on the album cover and in the videos.  

Ellen and Jeanine started at the far right and walked along looking at the girls as if they were products. 

Terry and Margo, in particular, didn’t care for this attitude.  “Well, you’re all pretty enough, I guess,” said Jeanine as she returned to Chris’s chair. 

“And this is our little superstar, huh?”  Before Chris could answer, Ellen spoke. It was obvious that this was a corporate conversation. 

“That’s her. Allan is very taken with her. You need to make her ‘pop’ off the cover and out of the video. What do you think?”  “Well, like I said, pretty enough, but it doesn’t help that there’s a prettier clone of her in the next chair.”  

“Hey!” Shouted Terry, Margo, Gina, and Grace in unison. Chris was just getting used to being called ‘pretty’ let alone being evaluated in this manner.  

Jeanine continued without acknowledging that anyone had spoken, “but I think we can make her into a wet dream for you.”  

“Hey!” the girls yelled again, this time joined by Chris.  

“Oh, relax, children,” Ellen said with complete dismissal, “and let Jeanine do her magic.”

  Jeanine and her assistants went to work washing the girls’ hair, setting it in curlers, and placing them under dryers. While their hair was drying, their nails were done and dresses were hung nearby. 

 “Hey!” 

Margo shouted too loudly from under the dryer, “We brought clothes for the shoot!”  

No one acknowledged her.  

“Hey, flunky,” Terry called out in support of Margo, “are you deaf?” 

 Again, nothing. 

They looked at each other and gave frustrated shrugs.  

An hour later Jeanine and her assistants walked out to leave the girls looking into a row of full-length mirrors. What looked back at them was not what they expected. Each one looked either like a trashy Halloween- prostitute or like a Lolita.  

“Well,” said Grace, who, like Chris, wore a ludicrously frilly, country-girl dress, “I think I have more product in my hair right now than my mother uses in a month at the salon.” 

 “No kidding,” said Gina, who looked as if she’d just finished a shift as a cheap prostitute. 

“This is really not cool. I wanted to wear some nice jeans and a cute top. 

This is bull shit. I look like a 49-year-old whore.”  “Do you suppose they're doing this on purpose?” Asked Terry.  “Why would they do that?” Margo asked.  

“I don’t know,” Terry thought out loud. 

“I mean, Ellen kind of hates us, I think, and she didn’t seem to love Allan, either. You think, maybe, she’s trying to derail us?” 

 “Well, she sure doesn’t seem to give a shit about us,” said Gina.  

“I look like a 13-year-old child made up like by a drunk for trick-or-treating,” Chris said. 

His eyes were watering a bit, and his nose was a little red, but he was more angry than insulted.  

“I’m not doing this,” he said to the others. “I know how the musicians I respect dress and I’m wearing what I want to wear.”  

“Maybe we should call Allan,” Grace tried to get a handle on the situation.

 “No, we need to be in charge,” Chris said. 

“We can’t be little girls to these people. 

We impressed Evan back in New Jersey and that got us here. 

We impressed Mr Bennett and Mark and they think we have what it takes. So, I’m not going to let these talentless idiots mess it all up on us.”  

“Holy shit!” Gina said. “Look at the balls on this one!”  

Chris shook his head, “Look at the boobs. 

I never had this kind of confidence as a guy, but you all make me stronger and more confident. What do you think? Revolution in the makeup room?”  

“Let’s do it!” said Terry as she started unzipping the side of her dress.  Margo gave Chris a big hug. 

“You are amazing, baby. I love you,” and she planted a deep kiss on his lips. 

“But, yuck, that lipstick is greasy!”    

“Are you ready, girls?” Ellen called from outside of the tent.  The door-flap swung open and out stepped five beautiful young women dressed in moderately priced, pretty, country-style clothes Margo and Gina in tight, faded jeans with sexy tops and the others in short dresses and cowgirl boots. 

Their makeup was casual and very “girl-next-door” and their hair was all brushed out and natural looking.  

“What the fuck have you done!?” screamed Ellen. 

“Get your asses back in there and I’ll call Jeanine back.” 

 “How about I call Allan, instead?” Said Terry. “Allan knows who we are and how we plan to present ourselves. You want him involved?”  

“You know what?” 

Ellen said with a venomous look at each of them. “You spoilt little bitches just shot yourselves in the feet. 

Go ahead and call Allan if you want, but I am canceling this photo shoot, and, no matter what, that will delay your release. 

You’ll miss getting your first single out before Memorial Day and it will be SOL for Runny Nose, or Rusty Hose, or whatever you call this gang of losers.”  

Just as Ellen finished her speech, a good-looking man in his mid-forties appeared. 

“All set to go?”  

Ellen stood straighter and folded her arms in an attempt to look authoritative. 

“Sorry, Paul, but we’ll have to cancel for today.” 

Her delivery was staccato and overpronounced as if she were a grade-school teacher scolding students. 

“They’ve chosen to look like a farm- rats rather than Nashville stars.”  

Paul looked and gave the band a quick and appraising glance, “Nonsense. They look perfect. Let’s go, girls,” and he turned and walked away.  As they all followed, Terry took up the end of the line but stopped to speak to Ellen before leaving. 

“Oh, I will be talking to Allan about this, ‘mam’ and, believe me, you will be hearing about it.”  

Ellen scoffed, “Don’t get cocky, honey oh, wait, that’s right. you had your removed, but your freaky little brother in that pretty little dress still has his, I bet. If you think you can keep me quiet about that, then you’ve.”  

Terry squared off in Ellen’s face. 

“Are you threatening me, lady? ‘Cause if you are, you might want to think twice about going after a Jersey girl. I’ve put up with jackasses like you my whole life and I am sick to death of it. 

If you come after me or my little sister, you better be ready to take the consequences because I don’t give a shit about what happens to you, but I’m going to protect my ‘freaky little brother in that pretty little dress’ until the day I die. Understand?”  

Ellen scoffed, again, “We’ll see. We’ll see.”    

“Well. I can’t fire her, she’d just run to the press,” Allan’s voice came out of the phone’s speaker as Terry and Margo, listened, “but I’ll keep her away from you guys, ok?”  

“Thanks, Allan,” they both said.  

“After all that, how’s the shoot going?” 

 “Pretty good,” Margo said. “He did a ton of group shots and now he’s doing each of us individually.”  

“Margo and I went first so we could call you. 

Thanks for your help, Allan?”  

“No problem, girls. Is my little money-maker ok with all of this?”  

“He didn’t hear any of it,” said Terry, “it was just Ellen and me.”  

“Ok, good, but Terry.”  

“Yes?” 

 “You have got to stick with ‘she’ when talking about Chris. Please! We already have one person to deal with. We can’t make another mistake.”  

“I know, Allan, I know. I’m sorry.”  

“Ok. Relax and I’ll see you tonight.”