Mistaken For A Girl Singer - Chapter 10

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“Hey,” someone was whispering. 

“Wake up.”  

Margo opened her eyes and saw Terry standing over her. Terry held up a finger to her mouth and quietly made a ‘shh’ sound and indicated for Margo to come out into the suite.  

Margo slipped out of the bed as gently as she could and tiptoed out of the bedroom behind Terry.  

“Did you fuuk my little brother?” 

Terry turned on Margo.  

“What!? No. We just cuddled and fooled around a little, but, no, I didn't,” Margo was in shock. 

“What the heck time is it?”  

“6:15. Denise will be here in a few minutes.” 

It was Grace who answered. Margo hadn't realized that both Grace and Gina were standing behind her with their arms folded in exactly the way that Terry’s were.  

“Hi,” Margo said to them both.  Terry spoke again, “I come home at 1:45 and I find you in my bed with my little brother. What's going on?”  

Margo was confused. She'd told Terry that she had a thing for Chris. 

Why was this a big deal?  

“I just wanted to hold him and well, we fell asleep.”  

“Did you, well, did my little brother’s p... you know penetrate?”  

“OH, MY GOD! No!” Margo was suddenly moving to the offensive. 

“What about you? You look like you just finished the walk of shame! You’re wearing the same clothes you wore last night!”  

“Because YOU were sleeping in my room, on my pillow, which is on top of my nightie!”  

“Oh,” Margo balked. “Well, Terry, come on. 

I told you, I'm really falling for Chrissie. We were just, you know, together. No penetration as you so politely put it. I think I really love him or her, I guess. I am smitten, guys. I am in deep Smit.”  

The other girls exchanged glances and relaxed, then slowly, grins came followed by laughter.  Margo realized that they were playing a practical joke on her. Part of her wanted to laugh along with it and part of her wanted to dope-slap each of the other girls. 

“You assholes!” she finally laughed. 

“You complete assholes!”  

Gina hugged Margo and pushed her towards her bedroom. 

“Go on get changed. Denise is coming.”  

Just then, there was a rhythmic knock at the door the same rhythmic knock that had occurred every weekday morning at 6:30 since they arrived.

 “Damnit!” 

Margo said as she ran into her room to change. Terry did the same.  Denise entered and pushed her cart to the center of the room, then realized that only Gina and Grace were ready. 

“Where are the others? I know that her royal highness is excused for another couple of days, but her sister and the tall one, where are they?”  

Both girls scurried into the room in clean shorts and tee shirts. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.”  

“Alright ladies, let's start with some stretching,” Denise began, but Margo interrupted.  

“You know, Denise, it's been two weeks and I really don't think you know our names. I'm Margo, that's Gracie, that's Gina, that's Terry and Chrissie is still in bed. Can we, please, use our correct names?”  

Denise was a little peeved. ‘Huh, all these young kids. 

Think their all going to be stars.’ she thought. “Alright Terry, Gracie, and Gina. Are you ready?”  

“Yes,” they said in unison.  “How about you, tall, blonde and mouthy? Are you ready?”  

Margo nodded, “You’re getting better. We’ll win you over, eventually.”  

“Sure you will. Ok ladies, let’s get those muscles stretched out.”     

“Ok, well, everything looks real good,” Dr Casey said as she checked the small incisions on the sides of Chris’s chest. “No seepage and these are feeling fine. How do you feel?”  

“Good, I guess. My chest doesn't feel like it's being stretched any more. I hate this ugly bra, though.”  

She laughed, “Just deal with it for another ten days and you can go back to your pretty bras, again. 

Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't plan on doing any topless work, if I were you. 

We didn't work on your nipples at all, so you've got perfectly developed breasts and little girl nipples. They'll probably be more sensitive, but keep them out of sight, ok?”  

“Yes, mam.”  

As Chris took the elevator down to the lobby, he felt great relief. The doctor said that everything was fine and he could get back to the studio. He had expected Terry to have come with him, but Mr Bennett had insisted that she be at the studio. Actually, he was happy about that, now. He really needed a shower before the studio. 

Now that the bandages were gone, he could get in and wash his body and hair. He may even feel human again. Maybe even pretty for the first time in a few days.  

“There's America’s Next Top Model!” joked her town car driver for the day, an elderly (at least 50 years old) southern man with greying highlights in his kinky hair. 

His name was Willy and he had a great smile. Chris had met him several times before and was happy for his company and enthusiasm today.”  “Haha, very funny, Willy,” Chris teased as, without thinking, he gave Willy a friendly hug. Willy was a big guy, at least six foot two or three and in the area of three hundred pounds. When Willy hugged him back, Chris felt buried in his arms and he liked that.  

“Everything ‘aces,’ sweetie?” 

Willy asked as he led Chris to the rear passenger door.  

“Everything’s aces, Willy, but can I sit up front with you and talk?”  

“Sure, baby girl! Anything you want! You know, I have a daughter just about your age and, I swear, when she gets into the car, she buries her face in that cell phone of hers and she doesn't hear a word I say till she jumps out.”  

Willy closed the front passenger door after Chris was seated and jogged to the driver’s side, pulling himself in with a few pants and cusses. 

“Whew! Tough to get old, baby-cakes, but considering the alternative.”  Chris laughed. It was nice to have someone to talk to.  

It took 30 minutes to get back to the hotel and that whole time they listened to all kinds of music, country, rock, blues, Broadway show tunes, and talked about each one. 

Willy had a really good ear and Chris loved his voice and told him so. He told Chris about bands that he'd never heard of; The Temptations, Booker T and the MGs, Sam and Dave. 

“Willy, I think you may know more about bands than anyone I ever met!” 

“Oh, sugar,” Willy chucked. 

“Don't start flirting with an old man like me. How old are you, lamb?”  

“17.”  

“17!? Shoot fire and save the matches! You're even younger than my Jojo. She'll be 19 in December.”  

“I'd really like to meet her sometime, Willy.”  

“Well, bless your heart. I'll make that happen, my little superstar.”  

Chris smiled.  As the town car pulled up to the hotel, Chris said, “Willy, I have to take a quick shower, get changed, and then get back to the studio. Can you do me a big favor?” 

“Sure, baby. What do you need?”  

“I’ve really been enjoying our talk. You know a lot about music. Usually, I don't meet people who know about more bands than me. 

So, will you, please, park in the garage and have lunch with me in the restaurant in the lobby so we can keep talking? My treat!”  

“Oh, sugar, I really shouldn't be doing something like that.”  

“Please, Willy! I haven't had any breakfast and I've got to eat and I just don't want to be alone. My treat. Come on.”  Willy could see that this little, young woman was sincere. 

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Alright, precious. I'll meet you in the lobby in 30 minutes.”  Chris let out a little, “Yay!” As he bounced out of the town car.  As Chris headed for the hotel door, Willy lowered the passenger window and called out, “And I'll pay for my own meal!”  

“No, you won't!” Chris called back in a teasing manner and he skipped, happily, into the lobby.   

The shower was wonderful! He felt glorious after several days without one. He got out, blew his hair dry, grabbed one of Terry’s hair bands, and put his hair up, like Terry did, in a high ponytail with some whips in the front hanging down to frame his face. If it weren't for that hideous, plain-looking bra, he would have felt great.  

He went to the closet to grab a dress, but then he remembered Mr Bennett’s visit last night. Terry’s blue dress was still hanging on the door. He smiled playfully as he took it down and pulled it on. It was a little too big, but so what. 

It was a cute dress and Mr Bennett might think it was pretty.  In the lobby, Chris found Willy near the entrance to the restaurant  As the waiter came to the table, Chris said, “What would you like, Willy?” 

“I'll have the grilled cheese and ham sandwich.” 

“Chris smiled at the waiter, “I'll have the Cobb Salad and the gentleman will have the Fillet Mignon.”  

The waiter smiled at Willy and raised his eyebrows as he left.  “Sugar, you can't be spending money like that.”  

“Sure I can,” Chris giggled. 

“Now, you were telling me about Otis Reading.”   

When Chris finally made it to the studio, the girls were trying to work out an instrumental section in one of the songs, so Chris went straight into the control room, but no one was there. 

Not wanting to interrupt their work, Chris pushed the mute buttons on the mixing console and grabbed an acoustic guitar that was leaning against the wall. 

His discussions with Willy had gotten him thinking about the groove in some older tunes. 

He quickly came up with a lick that he liked and started expanding that into an outline for a song.  

Ten minutes later, Chris’ focus was completely consumed with his new song. Not a lot of lyrics yet, but a strong melody in the refrain. It was coming together. He was playing what he had again when he felt a kiss on the nape of his neck. 

As much as he wanted to reciprocate, he wanted to complete his review of the music even more.  

“Hey,” was whispered into his ear as the kissing continued. He knew that Margo would understand if he continued till the end, so he just leaned his head to the side to allow more access for the kisses. 

He continued to strum and hum and sing nonsense syllables as his brain worked its creative muscles.  

“I had a good time last night,” the whispers continued. Chris smiled and stayed focused. 

“Let's do it again, tonight.”  

The kisses moved to his ear and cheek as he finished the song. With the last strum, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes to accept a forceful, passionate kiss on his lips. It tasted slightly of coffee and mint and Chris surrendered to the tongue that probed deeply into his mouth. 

An arm moved behind his head as he stretched higher to take the tongue deeper. He could feel himself submitting to the kiss; it was wonderful.  Then, something odd  Chris felt stubble rub his face. 

‘Wait! What!?’ 

He thought and he opened his eyes to see Mark, their recording engineer, with his eyes closed, locked in a kiss with him.  With great difficulty, Chris pushed him away. 

“Mark!” He shouted and turned to look out into the studio.  

“What?” the very confused young man responded but then followed Chris’ stare to the studio where he saw Gina, Grace, Margo, and Terry setting down their instruments to take a break.  

“How? Who? Oh, my God! Chrissie!? I thought you were Terry! I'm so sorry, but you weren't here when I left, and your hair, and well. I'm so sorry!”  Chris was at a loss. 

No words formed and then the control room door opened and the girls filed in.  

“Hey, look who's here!” Gina shouted.  

“Hey, baby,” grinned Margo when she saw Chris’ flustered face, “what's up?”  

“Nothing,” Chris said, way too excitedly. 

“Nothing's up. We didn't do anything. It was.”  

“Yeah,” Mark interrupted, “Chris has been working on a song in here and I interrupted. It's pretty cool. I think y’all will love it, but he wanted to wait till you came in to play it.”  Chris was like a deer in the headlights. ‘

Did they know? Had they seen it? Oh, my God, oh, my God!’  

“Great,” said Terry, as she moved beside Mark for a hug and a kiss. “Let's hear it. Hey, are you wearing my dress?” 

She giggled, “And my hair band, my ponytail, oh, my goodness, you're a little clone of me! Look at you!”  

Chris blushed an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah. Mr Bennet told me to wear this today.”  

“I did what, now?” asked Alan as he entered the control room from the door behind Chris. “Chrissie! You made it! That's great. We've got a lot to do. Now, what did I say?”  

So many people in the room and the kiss. Chris was getting overwrought by it all. Was there an escape? 

 “Chrissie said that you wanted her to wear my dress, today. That’s all,” Terry said as she snuggled closer to the man that Chris had been kissing just minutes before.  

“YOUR dress?” Alan chuckled, “I assumed it was Chrissie’s. Stand up and let's take a look at you, honey.”  

Chris stood and felt a little foolish with everyone looking at him. The dress was, undeniably, a little big on him, but only a little. It just made him look a little younger and smaller than a properly fitted dress would have.  

“Well, I think you look beautiful, sweetheart,” Alan said and he pulled Chris into a hug. 

“Frankly, I think you'd look beautiful in pretty much anything, little girl,” he hugged him tightly, then turned him to face everyone else. 

“I can't believe that you kept all this feminine perfection under a bushel for 17 years. Thank goodness we came along to find the real you.”  

“Agreed!” shouted Margo and she pulled him from Alan to her. “Thank goodness!”  

“Ok,” Alan clapped his hands, “did I hear something about a new song?

"What have we got?”  

All eyes were again on Chris, but he was ok with that if they were talking about music. 

“Umm, can I have about an hour to finish? Maybe, if Margo and Terry could work with me, it could be done faster than that. 

I always stumble on the lyrics.”  

“Well, alrighty! Grace, Gina, and Mark,” said Alan as he headed out the door, “looks like you have a one-hour break.”  

“Geez, Chrissie,” Alan slammed his hand onto the table in the recording studio, “if this isn't one of the top three songs of this summer, I'll eat my Stetson hat!”  

All five members of Dusty Rose bounced on the balls of their feet in excitement. The song, “Get Outta My Way!” was an aggressive, country-rock song that was entirely different than anything else they were working on.  

“If you could give me one more like this to round out this album, you five girls will be millionaires before New Year!”  

Alan grabbed Chris by the shoulders, “Oh, little girl, you are something very, very special,” and with that, he planted a kiss full on Chris’ lips. 

It only lasted a few seconds, but Chris’ heart stopped while the others whooped and hollered. 

“Now, write me or find me one more  Maybe something with a honky-tonk feel  and you girls will become legends!” and he exited the studio.  

Twice! Twice in less than two hours! He'd kissed two men in less than two hours!  

“Alright, girls!” Mark said, “Let's start rehearing this one! It's not going to do us any good till it's in the can.”  

It was 1:48am and the other girls had been tucked into their beds for over an hour, but Chris and Mark were still working at the studio.  

“Chrissy,” Mark called into the studio through the intercom system, “let's call it a night. You're too tired and we're not going to make any more progress here.”  

Chris couldn't remember ever being this tired before. 

“Yeah, I guess.”  

“I'll call for a car. Grab your stuff and I'll ride down with you. “  

Chris put his purse over his shoulder and rode the elevator down to the lobby. When the doors opened, there was Willy standing by the door with a big smile on his face.  

“Well, good evening, Mr Johnston. Good evening, Miss Christine.” 

Willy’s infectious smile made both Mark and Chrissy smile, too.  

“Good evening, Willy,” Mark said. “Can I trust you with our most valuable cargo?” 

Chris smiled, partially out of embarrassment and partially because, aside from Margo, Terry, Gina, or Gracie, Willy’s face was the best possible way to end the day.  

“Let's get you home and tucked in, young lady,” Willy chuckled as he waved goodnight to Mark and guided Chris to the back door of the town car. 

He opened the back door, but Chris continued around the car and pulled open the passenger-side front seat door, smoothed his skirts under him, sat on the seat, and closed his own door.  

“That little girl sure has a mind of her own,” Willy chuckled as he closed the back door and pulled himself into the driver’s seat.  

“Music?” Willy asked. 

“Please.”  

“Artist? Style? Era?”  

“Your choice, Willy,” Chris rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “Just tell me about the songs as they play. I need to learn this stuff.”  

“Ok, baby. How about some 60s and 70s pop music? 

That should keep us awake till we get to the hotel.”  

Chris listened as the music played and Willy told him about the songs.  

“Billy Ray was a preacher’s son and when his daddy would visit he'd come along.” flowed out of the speakers.  

“Now, that's Dusty Springfield. Great voice. Part of the ‘blue-eyed- soul’ movement. 

English girl, but sounded American” he continued to tell Chris about the song, Dusty Springfield, soul music the British Invasion. He just kept talking.  

Chris took it all in.  The next song started.  “Well, I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damned depressed, that I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed.”  

“Here's a different one. This band is called America, but none of the guys in the band were born in America. They were all military kids and grew up on bases around the world...” he continued and Chris listened.  

Song after song played and Willy knew enough about each song to keep talking.  Chris was just starting to drift away when a familiar lick played and Chris sat bolt upright.  

“You ok, honey?”  

Chris stared at the radio as the lyrics began.  

“We've been running away from something we both know. We've long run out of things to say and I think I'd better go.”  

Chris looked at Willy with a mix of excitement and confusion.  

Willy hesitated, but then began talking, “This is Jim Croce. Short but great career. Nice, warm voice and knew how to sell a story. Died young in a plane crash in ’73 and left a wife and son and.”  

“This is the song,” Chris whispered  Willy pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. “What's the matter, baby.”  

“This is the song, Willy. My dad’s song.”  

Willy smiled and touched Chris’ chin.  

“Your dad was a singer?” 

“Not professional, but.. this is the song he used to sing for us. He used to drive us crazy singing it. I wish I could hear him sing it one more time, now, though.” A tear rolled down his cheek. 

“What's it called?” 

Willy took in the child next to him pulled Chris to his side and let him just listen for a few moments. 

“It's called ‘One Less Set of Footsteps,’ sweetheart.”  

They listened until the song was over. By then Chris’ tears were flowing freely, but he wasn't sobbing. Just listening and remembering.  

“You ok, honey?”  

Chris sat up and wiped his eyes while smiling and letting out a little, embarrassed laugh. 

“I'm a lot of fun to be with, huh?”  

Willy just smiled.  

“I need a guitar, Willy. I have an idea.” 

Willy put the car in gear, “No problem, your highness. This is Nashville. I'll get you a guitar.”  

At 2:45am, after a brief stop at an all-night pawn shop, Chris finally opened the door to the hotel suite with his phone in his right hand and a slightly used, natural-blonde Taylor acoustic guitar in his left. 

He had downloaded a recording of his dad's song to his phone and the guitar chords as well. He was exhausted, but his adrenaline was flowing through his veins, so he knew that he'd never get to sleep. 

He closed the doors to all the bedrooms, giving Terry and Margo pecks on their cheeks before sitting on the couch with the new guitar, his phone, a pad of paper, and a pencil and he went to work.  

At 6:00am, the girls were up to prepare for the daily workout with Denise and they found Chris asleep with his phone and a guitar lying across the same blue dress of Terry’s that he had been wearing yesterday.  “Honey, wake up,” Gracie whispered to him as she gently shook his shoulder. “Chrissie, wake up sweetie. Come on. Y

ou should get to bed for a few hours.”  When he regained consciousness, Chris sat up quickly and, with great excitement, asked them all to sit and listen to him.  

“So, last night, I heard a song that I haven't heard in a long time. Terry, you know this.”  

He grabbed the Taylor guitar and started playing the old Jim Croce song. The other girls nodded their heads to the groove and made remarks, “I've heard this,” “This is on my dad’s playlist,” and “I like this.”  Terry just smiled as she heard Chris sing. When he was done, Terry’s eyes were watery with emotion. 

She came to the couch and pulled Chris into a deep, warm hug, burying his face in her shoulder and neck. When she released him, he sat back and smiled at her. 

They gazed at each other for several moments before Margo interrupted.  “Well, I'm confused. It's a good song, but it's not the kind of song that would make me cry.”  Terry smiled at her best friend and wiped the tears that were threatening to run down her cheeks from her eyes. “It's daddy’s song.”  

“Come again?” asked Gina. 

“When we were little, our dad used to play and sing for us. He’d sing all kinds of songs, but whenever he played in public, that's the song he’d always end with. 

We called it ‘Daddy’s Song’ and, when we wanted to hear him sing it, we’d clap and yell ‘Daddy’s Song! 

Daddy’s Song’ until he did it for us. I haven't heard it since Daddy died.”  “Wow,” said Denise, who had entered unnoticed while Chris had been singing. 

“Seems like I'm breaking up something big, but we do need to get started.”  

“Oh, wait, wait,” Chris said, grabbing his phone. “I used my Garage- Band app to see if we could make this song work for us. I used a more contemporary drum beat and I added a ton of background vocals. Listen.”  Chris played his recorded tracks for the girls. 

When he was done, he went back and pointed out some of his biggest changes. 

“Gina, if you can kinda break out of the straight beat in the bridge and do something more like this (he clapped his hands in a syncopated manner to indicate his idea), I think it will open it up a lot. 

Gracie, if you could do this mandolin pattern (he demonstrated on his guitar) during most of the song, but then maybe work out an edgier solo, maybe on mandolin or maybe on electric guitar, I'm not sure, 

I think it would be really cool. Terry, if you could use a harder strum, like the original recording, but with a brighter string sound, I think it'd be a really rich sound under Gracie’s pattern. 

And, Margo, if you could double these guitar lines at the beginning middle, and end, down an octave, then just play a standard bass line under the rest of it, I think we could make this song kick butt!”  

The girls were all focused on what Chris had just said and the deluge of creative conversation began with each talking to and over each other.  

“Ladies, ladies!” Denise interrupted. “This is all well and good, but I am here to make your skinny little asses look good on stage, so put that aside and let's get started.”  

There were three solid seconds of silence and stillness before Gina said, “Nope! No way! We need to get downtown, like now, while we’re this wired.”  

There was a shout of general agreement and the other girls ran to their rooms to change, leaving Chris and Denise together in the room.  Denise, who had seen this kind of enthusiasm before and understood that she needed to let them off the hook today, smiled at Chris.  

“Daddy’s Song, huh?”  

Chris nodded as he put the guitar into its soft case.  

“I didn't know that... well, that your dad had passed away.”  Chris shrugged, “I know. It was a car accident on a snowy night, a few years back.”  

Denise made a slightly uncomfortable gesture to offer comfort to someone that she barely knew. She smiled and rubbed Chris’ left shoulder with her right hand and then moved it to his cheek. 

“You are such a pretty little thing. I bet you were daddy’s little girl, weren't you.”  

Chris was grateful for Denise’s empathy and stuttered in his reply. 

“No. Terry was always daddy’s little girl. 

Terry’s so much better at well, everything, you know? It's easy to be Terry’s parent. 

Me, I've always been the screwup. Never as good in school, or at sports, or at making friends as Terry. She’s kind of my hero. I mean, well, she was always both daddy and mommy’s little girl. I was always just, Chris.”  Denise couldn't believe what she was hearing. 

She had just seen this pretty little thing take complete control of everything, the music they would play, the song they would sing, how they would sing it and play it, everything. Now, she saw tremendous self-doubt in this little girl. 

How?  “Oh, darling, I bet your daddy loved you just as much as he loved your big sister.”  

“Twin. We're twins,” Chris said, then with a chuckle. “See, she even grew better than me. But, you know what, my mom and dad loved me just for being Chris and that's ok with me. As for Terry, there's nothing in the world better than being her little sister.”  

 “One more dub for the background vocals and this one will be done!” The speaker gave a soft click when Alan released the ‘Talk’ button in the control room. 

“Damn, son,” Alan said to Mark, “I never would have seen this coming. A forty or fifty-year-old minor hit. Huh. These girls are on fire! Let's make a knock-list for all the songs before we leave tonight. 

We should be able to wrap this album up in a week or so.”  

Mark gave a thumb. “Have you made a choice for the first release?”  

“I love ‘Get Outta my Way,’ but I'm thinking we should throw a little blood in the water first; probably ‘His Eyes.’ That'll get the girls out there as country girls you know, we do a video with farm-girl costumes, or maybe an Antebellum theme with hoop skirts then we release ‘Get Outta My Way’ with a more contemporary look. What do you think?” 

“I'm digging this one, Alan. I'm glad they didn't tell me what the song was at first, because I would have shot it down, but, now, I really like it.”  Alan shrugged. 

“I do, too, but releasing a cover too early can destroy a band’s credibility.”  Mark shrugged and smiled, “It’s a kickass song, though. A kickass song.”   

“That's it, ladies, the album is in the can!” Alan announced with a great deal of flourish and theatrical flare. 

It had been six, nit-picking days since they recorded ‘One Less Set of Footsteps’ and everyone was running on pure adrenaline at this point. 

“Tomorrow, 11:00am, photo shoot for the cover and promos and then our traditional celebration dinner at 7:00 at Antonio’s!”  

They all applauded.