CHAPTER SIXTEEN: On LocationKieran, the WeHo LGBTIQA+ hub receptionist/librarian, was sitting on the couch, watching Larry Zimmel, having made himself some nice herbal tea. He was already in his coziest pajamas.
And when Jamie Howard announced she was a transgender woman, he sighed, took a sip of his tea, and pced it back down on the saucer.
“Fuckin’ knew it,” he said, ughing. “Not on a journey my arse.”
***
The next day, Jimmy woke up to the sound of “You Know You’re Right.” Bleary eyed, he reached over to turn the light on his nightstand on, then fumbled for his phone.
It took a good sixty seconds before he was conscious enough to remember that she was Jamie, that she was using the wrong pronouns in her head, and that st night had been, as they say in the professional television industry, ‘a doozy.’
“Wake up, Jamie,” said Sam through the phone.
Jamie. She was Jamie. Again. Maybe she should have gone with something like Jessie or Jenny or Jackie, or… or something out of left field like Yonda or Charisse. That she was already legally Jamie Horowitz was just a matter of convenience. The st time she had been called Jamie, though, he was a kid.
“Saaaammm,” Jamie compined, (like a kid.) “I came out to the entire world on live prime-time television st night. It took a lot out of me.”
“And that’s why I let you sleep in for an extra half hour,” Sam said. “And don’t make a bigger deal out of it than it was, it was only prime time on the west coast. Most of New York was already asleep by the time you decred your womanhood to the world.”
“New York, famously, is the city that never sleeps. Besides, all my friends live on the West Coast, Sam. C’mon. Just a few more minutes?”
“As much as you deserve to decompress, Ms. Jamie Howard, your ‘egg cracking’ put us two days behind schedule on pnning, now we’ve got to catch up. Now that all the kings horses and all the kings women - and Pranav - no longer have to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, we have work to do. Sooner we get it done, the sooner you can get back to bed. Get in the shower, and come down and help Daria and I go over the location sheets.”
“Urgh. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
In the kitchen, Sam and Daria were already at the table, and started booting up their ptops.
“Kinda harsh on her, no?” Daria asked Sam.
“If she has time to think about what she did st night, I’m worried she’ll have another freakout. And if that’s going to happen, I want it to happen when she’s here with us, rather than all alone.”
Back in her bedroom, Jamie sat up, and looked at the full length mirror. She looked awful. Like, more awful than average for someone who just woke up. Was his (shit, her) face always that long and angur? Were his (shit, her!) feet always that ugly?
That’s the problem with dysphoria, Sheri expined to her once. You can know exactly what it is, know it’s a lie your brain is telling yourself, and still be powerfully affected by it. Trying to reason your way out of it is like trying to stop a bullet fired at you by reciting ballistic physics equations at it.
He - no, dammit, she, grabbed a wash cloth, hopped into the shower, wiped herself all over with the multipurpose shampoo/conditioner/body-wash/floor-wax/desert-topping, stepped out of the shower, and dried himself - shit, herself off with a towel, then headed to his underwear drawer and… god fucking dammit!
Jamie sat down on the edge of her bed, wondering when exactly, all this stuff was supposed to be second nature. Wasn’t she a girl all along? Wasn’t this supposed to come naturally? Wasn’t that the whole point?
She went over her stubble with her hand before shaving it off. But after a pass with the razor, there were still bits of dark hair in the roots. Maybe she should invest in a safety razor? Get a closer shave? She thought about doing her legs, but it was just too much effort and she was probably going to cut herself doing it.
She put on a pair of khakis and a t-shirt, then headed downstairs, following the smell of coffee and the sound of women talking.
Around her kitchen table, Sam was already there with Daria.
“Good morning, Jamie,” said Daria. “You did great st night. Amazing! You should be proud. How does it feel to be Ms. Jamie Howard? Officially.”
Jamie frowned.
“Well, when I start to feel like Ms. Jamie Howard, I’ll let you know.”
Sam sighed. “I can imagine, Jamie. C’mon, sit down, let’s crack on.”
“No,” said Jamie. “Not yet. I’m making myself at least a slice of toast and a coffee first. Non-negotiable.”
Jamie sighed, and looked at Daria, shrugging. “Bad things happen when I skip breakfast.”
The next two days passed by in a blur, while Sam kept Jamie deliberately busy and constantly surrounded by friends.
***
Leonard idly munched on a peanut butter and raw blueberry waffle. He had gotten up very early - too early, in fact, but he was a little nervous and excited.
Mexico, after all!
His mother sometimes worked te nights as a public defender in the night court, so around the time Leonard was finishing up breakfast, Marianne Harrison was coming back home.
“Morning, Mom.”
Marianne took her briefcase, pcing it on the empty kitchen chair, leaning against it, gring at Leonard, pushed forward. It was a position he saw his mother take often, particurly on a particurly difficult cross-examination.
“Len, is there something you want to tell me?”
Oh god, what did he do now?
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“I finally got around to watching Zimmel st night on the Internet. Cause you said that Jimmy Howard was directing the show you’re on. And he said a lot of interesting things about the show. As did that Erin woman who’s hosting, a lot of interesting things.”
She repeated it again, drawing out every sylble.
“A lot… of in-ter-est-ing things.”
“Mom…”
“Let me cut to the chase, Len,” Marianne said. “I know you told me that they were going to put you in dresses and makeup for the show. You didn’t tell me they were going to do hormones and surgeries. That’s a pretty gring omission, no? And I can’t imagine that they would have pnned to spring that on you when you got to the pne today, no?”
“Mom…”
“Len, you know you can tell me anything, right? I love you unconditionally. Unconditionally. So if you were, for example, as a hypothetical… thinking about… identifying as a trans woman…”
“Mom! No! I just…” Leonard sighed. “Ethan has a pn. We’ve got this figured out, we deal with the show for like, two months, three, tops, and we walk out with like, ten thousand bucks. Ten thousand bucks and room and board, and a tropical adventure and we can stop any time we want. You know how Ethan is, he’s got everything pnned out on a spreadsheet. We go in, we stay for a few episodes, we walk home with cash. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but the tech industry is not exactly the cash cow that it was when I entered college, and now I’m facing paying off a massive debt.”
“Really? Len, messing around with your health is dangerous.”
“So is joining the army, but lots of people do that so that they don’t have to deal with student loans. And I’m less likely to get shot at. It’s a minimized, calcuted risk.”
“I take it Ethan was the one doing the calcuting?”
“What can I say, the guy’s good at math. You want me to make you a waffle?” Leonard gestured to the already open pack of waffles.
“You know I would still love you if you were trans.”
“I know, Mom.”
“And your Dad too. If he were still with us he would love you and support you no matter who you decided you wanted to be.”
“Yeah, Mom, I know. But I’m not. I’m just a normal cis-het white nerd boy.”
“If that changes, I want to be the first to know, okay?”
“Not going to change genders, sexual orientation, or the fact I’m a nerd anytime soon. Oh no. What if I suddenly change races? Do you think I’m suddenly going to be ‘Turning Japanese?’ Oh… oh no, I’m turning Japanese! I really think so. Oh lordy, I’m getting The Vapors.”
Marianne headed over to Leonard and gave him a big hug.
“I’m just worried. You’ll stay safe, alright?”
“I will.”
“And call me when you nd.”
“I will, Mom.”
“And if you just want to talk… if you can’t reach me, that’s cause I’m in court, but you can always call Aunt Neenie.”
“I know, Mom. I love you too.”
Leonard’s phone pyed the text alert message. He took it out of his pocket and took a look at it. It was Ethan, who mentioned that he was packed and ready.
***
“Is that everything?” asked Leonard, as Ethan put his carry-on luggage in the trunk. “Got the contestant pack, the passport, all the stuff we need?”
“Yep. I’m all set. What about you?”
“Same. I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.”
“Good.” Ethan looked around nervously. “Then, let’s get out of here.”
“We’ve got plenty of time, I thought you were going to invite me in to say hi to your fam,” said Leonard.
“They’re sleeping. I don’t want to wake them. They were up te st night, helping me pack.”
Leonard looked at the one piece of carry-on luggage Ethan brought with him.
“What’s going on, Ethan?”
He looked away.
“Ethan?”
He brought his chin down to his chest and closed his eyes.
“Ethan. I’m not driving you anywhere until we get an answer. Even if it means missing the flight.”
He emitted a high pitched whine that only dogs could hear.
“Ethan.”
“I haven’t told them, okay?”
“You haven’t told them? Haven’t told them what?”
“I haven’t told them the show’s called ‘Woman Up!’ They know I’m going to Mexico for a TV show, it’s just they think it’s for the macho man show that we originally thought it was. My parents would have heart attacks, and Kay would never let me live it down.”
Leonard stopped, and looked over to Ethan’s house. He had met the MacDonalds before, and they were good people. But Ethan was right. Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald would have conniptions.
And Kay would go from ‘basic bitch’ to ‘Grand High Empress of the Raging Hellfire Bitch Realm, Gactic Overlord Supreme of All That Is Petty And Vengeful.’
Leonard looked over to Ethan, pced a hand on his shoulder.
“Ethan. Buddy.”
Ethan looked up at Leonard.
“We have got to get out of here right now. This is the best prank ever pulled on Kay.”
The two nodded, waited a moment, then booked it to the car, buckled up, nodded to each other, and then Leonard started the car, revved the engine, started Iron Maiden on the 12-year-old MP3 pyer connected to the car via aux cord, and booked it out of there at a breakneck twenty seven miles per hour in a twenty five mile per hour zone.
“Run to the hills!” they sang. “Run for your life!”
They headed to LA, where they’d meet the rest of the contestants at the Garden Alpha building, get on a shuttle to LAX, take a flight to Cancún airport and from there?
Well, they were going to find out, weren’t they?
***
“I hope you took your good dress,” said Rafael’s mom, as she drove Rafael to the Garden Alpha offices. “I want to see you on TV in your good dress.”
“No. I burned it.”
“Renata!”
Rafael sighed and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t burn it, Mom. But I’m not taking it with me. First, as much as I know you love it, I really don’t. Second, the production company told me to bring only a few changes of clothing - they’d provide the wardrobe.”
“I wanted to see my daughter on TV wearing her good vestido,” Marisa Espinar said, stroking Rafael’s short hair with one hand on the wheel. Rafael batted the hand away.
“Mooooommm…” Rafael gritted his teeth. “Do you still not understand why I’m doing this? It’s not for the money. I have no chance of winning the money.”
“But you–”
Rafael cut her off, and answered calmly. “I’m doing this because I’m mad at you and Dad. Absolutely furious. I’ve tried expining it to you. I’ve tried pleading with you. God help me, at times I tried bargaining with you, and that was a mistake. Now I’m going to have to show you. You’re going to have to see what it is like for me and the other men when we’re forced to be people we’re not! And I know it’s going to hurt you, to see me in pain, and I’m sorry, but it’s the only way you’ll finally get it.”
“And what if you find you’re not in pain? What if you start to feel better when you’re off the medicamento? When you get off the drogas masculinas and you start feeling normal? Because I don’t like how the drogas make you, Renata. It makes you angry.”
“Mom, it’s not the testosterone that makes me angry.”
“Testosterone makes everyone angry. Especially the women who have to deal with the men who have it. Okay. Hear me out. What if you go down to Mexico, maybe meet a nice chica there? Lots of chicas in Cancún.”
“First stop is Mérida, not Cancún. Also, I’m gay.”
“Why do you think I suggested it? Renata, I’ve known you were gay long before you did.”
Rafael closed his eyes, and mentally counted to ten.
He made it all the way to seven before he exploded.
“GAAAAAAAH!”
***
Reg dropped Oscar off at the Garden Alpha offices in the Blue Lives Matter / Let’s Go Brandon / 34 Convictions And Four More Years slogan-covered truck. It was what could be described, in certain Internet memes, as a “skitzo-truck.” Oscar thanked his friend, then headed to the Garden Alpha offices with his carry on.
Jacob and Gooch were already hanging out by the door. As Oscar came by, Gooch pointed to Reg’s truck, which was already on its way out of the parking lot. “You came in that thing? You’re braver than I thought.”
“Save it, Doobie-Won Kenobi,” said Oscar.
Gooch was impressed. “You caught that reference? You’re a Star Wars fan?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Guns, space battles, lightsabers, and Carrie Fisher in a bikini,” Oscar pointed out, counting out each on his fingers. “The original trilogy is a cssic.”
“Hunh,” said Jacob. “What’s your favorite sci-fi franchise?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Gotta be the 2003 Battlestar Gactica.”
“Bold pick, but I respect it. I don’t think it’s aged as well as some other stuff from that era, though,” said Jacob.
“What, you think that it’s problematic? Not woke enough?”
“Nah, it’s alright that way, it’s just, the whole thing was very much a product of the post 9/11 mood. It’s a show about terrorists hiding amongst us, that want to destroy us, and the only possible way to proceed is with strong military leadership. It was super Bush Administration-y. Tried watching it again recently, and it just doesn’t have the same kick.”
“Fair point,” Oscar said.
“Jacob,” Gooch stage-whispered to his friend. “He’s being amicable. It’s freaking me out.”
“Yeah, Gooch. Normally he’s such a douche canoe,” said Jacob.
“A turd wrangler,” Gooch suggested.
“Cringe bucket.”
“Funk dumpster.”
“Slime merchant.”
“Walking red fg.”
“The human loophole.”
“I didn’t get that one, Jacob,” Gooch said.
“Yeah, I was kinda running out of ideas but I didn’t want to break the streak.”
“For goodness sake, guys, are you going to be like this the entire time?” Oscar threw up his hands. “I’m just a guy, you know? Why can’t we agree to disagree?”
Jacob leaned up against one of the supporting pilrs for the office building’s entrance. “Do you want a serious answer to that?”
Oscar looked at his watch. “Got here early, like you, so why not? Go ahead.”
“Because you like to hurt people, Oscar. Or at least, you like people who like to hurt people.”
“What?”
“You do. I don’t know why you do. But it’s clear you do. And the more a person hurts other people, the more you like them.”
“You don’t know me, Jacob. How can you judge me? You’ve got this strawman idea in your head of who I am. Just another Republican. Just another WASPy trust-fund kid.”
“You’re not a trust fund kid?” said Gooch.
“I mean, I am, but it’s not all I am,” Oscar said.
“Well then,” Jacob said. “Prove it.”
“What?”
“We’re gonna be spending a lot of time together on this thing. You want me to respect you as a person, you have to show me that you’re not just a big pile of ‘fuck you’ shoved into a human skin. For Christ’s sake, man, you’re going to be on fucking television. Everyone’s going to see who you really are, deep down. So you gotta ask yourself, who are you deep down? Are you a good person?”
Oscar shook his head, dismissively, then turned to Gooch.
“Is he always like this?”
“He’s a personal trainer,” Gooch pointed out. “He’s big on tough love motivational speeches.”
***
“Okay, Victor,” Victor said. Out loud. To the mirror. “This is it. The start of your career. In television. All packed, and ready to go.”
Victor had spent much of his time st night downloading torrents of ‘Inside the Actor’s Studio’ to put on a USB drive to watch during the downtime. He headed outside of his apartment, ordered an Uber, and called the production team.
“Hello, this is Sam Culver, how can I help you?” Sam’s voice was clearly on some sort of speakerphone and there was the noise of traffic in the background.
“Hello, this is Victor Rubin, I’m heading over to the rendezvous point now.”
“Victor?” Sam sounded surprised.
“Yes. Victor Rubin.”
“You… okay, but you don’t have to tell me that, you can just… show up. Jamie and I are headed over to the offices ourselves. I’m in the car right now, Jamie’s driving.”
“Hi, Victor,” said Jamie, “Looking forward to working with you.”
“Sorry, Jamie? I don’t remember anyone on the cast or crew with that name. Are you Sam’s P.A.?”
A pause, then Sam asked a question.
“Victor, did you not see the note about how you should watch Zimmel Live st week?”
“Uh, no. I thought it was just promo spam. Was that important?”
“I’d say yes,” said Sam. “Do you at least know that Jamie’s going to be joining you as a contestant?”
“Ah! A secret st-minute entrant! How devious! Don’t worry, I’ll act appropriately bamboozled when the big reveal comes. Can’t wait to find out who this mysterious ‘Jamie’ is.”
A white Tes stopped in front of Victor’s apartment, and the driver expectantly waved to Victor.
“Sorry, that’s my cue, gotta go, ciao!”
And Victor hung up.
Driving on the 10, Jamie turned to Sam for the briefest of moments.
“What a strange man,” Jamie said.
***
“I’m just saying,” said Bradley, riding the bus to Culver City, “It’s mean to keep calling Rafael a girl. He’s not a girl.”
“Whatever he is,” said Jett, “he’s a bitch for entering a feminization contest with a pre-installed vagina. It would be like me entering a… entering a… what’s a woman’s only event I would win?”
“The Olympic 100 meter women’s dick waggle? I mean, it does seem a little unfair, sure, but it’s just a game and why shouldn’t he be allowed to py with the rest of us?”
“It’s not just a game. It’s a game show. It's time to strap on. We could be rich, Bradley. But no, she…”
Bradley rolled his eyes.
“Sorry,” Jett said, not meaning it. “But think about it. He is going to come in, sweep the whole thing. Getting on his case? It’s not just me being a Scorpio. It's a strategy. I mean, I don’t have anything against Rafael personally, but he doesn’t have to do anything that we would have to do to win. Just sit there. So, yeah, I think our best bet is to keep the pressure on him, psyching him out. He’s our biggest competition, and we want him to drop out early.”
“Okay, first, what’s this ‘our’? I love you, Jett, but I’m mostly going along with this because you are. I don’t think I’m even going to let them shave my beard. And let’s face it. You’re not going to win this. I’m not going to win this. Or were you really going to let them cut your balls off out of pure stubbornness?”
The seventy-eight year old woman seated next to them on the bus looked over to the two of them with curiosity after that statement.
Bradley blushed. “Sorry ma’am.”
“Oh no,” it’s okay, “the elderly dy said. I take it your friend is a transgender? My grand-niece is one of those transgenders. I don’t understand it but… Well, I say grand-niece, but they’re not my grand-niece, they’re my grand… well, *I’m* their grand-aunt, but they’re not my grand-niece, and they’re not my grand-nephew.”
“Oh no, Jett’s not–” Bradley started to say, but the woman continued.
“Anyway, my grand-nei-phew… they say they’re non-binary, or Enby. We didn’t have those back in my day. We just called them… well, basically Grace Jones was the only one, I think. Do you know Grace Jones? She was in that James Bond film with Christopher Walken. It wasn’t very good. My god, your parents would have been babies! Both of you!”
This conversation was a perfect example of why Bradley liked riding the bus, and why Jett hated riding the bus.
“Last Thanksgiving, they were wearing this purple skirt with a white dress shirt and purple tie. It confused the hell out of me, but it actually looked quite nice,” the elderly dy continued.
She continued for quite some time. Jett, not being the center of attention, decided to pull out the phone and text Oscar and Victor in the #Coalition channel he had created.
“Bradley and I are on our way,” he typed. “Let’s make it to the final four.”
***
After the pne ride to Cancún, and the ride on the ADO bus to Merida, the nine contestants were about to head into Casa del Garden for the first time. Sam let out a whistle to let everyone know to pay attention.
“Everyone here? Good!”The contestants formed in an impromptu circle around her, as the various crew started gearing up, fixing shotgun microphones like bayonets to their shoulder-mounted cameras.
“Now, I’m sure you want to get out of this heat, and it was a long day, so basically, all you need to do is find your rooms and check in for right now. I’m just letting you know that from this point in, everywhere, except the restrooms, is going to be monitored and recorded. So if you usually spend a lot of time walking around naked – Gooch, I’m looking in your direction–”
“Guilty as charged.”
“–Point is, keep your butt, your frontal area, and your nipples covered when not in restrooms or clearly marked private areas.”
Bradley raised his hand. “Why would we need to keep our– Oooooooh.”
Bradley realized the answer as he was asking it.
“I asked Standards and Practices,” expined Erin, “at what point it stops being a ‘pec’ and starts being a ‘boob,’ but they looked at me funny and said something about the Ship of Theseus.”
Sam resumed her expnations.
“Anyway in ninety minutes, we’re going to bring you in to see the main area, we want to capture your reactions when you see it - Jamie and I did location scouting beforehand, and let me tell you, it’s nice - and then we’ll have our first dinner together. Just remember, the game begins once you walk through that gate. Good luck everyone!”
As a group, the contestants headed in, and they were herded down a hallway off to the left, where there were five double-bed rooms behind five doors. But where room numbers would be, there were… dolr amounts. Specifically 100, 200, 300, 400, and 500.
It was Ethan who realized it first.
“Oh crap. It’s a game. A game-theory game.”
“What?” said Leonard.
A TV monitor on the far wall turned on, and Erin’s smiling face appeared on it.
“That’s right, Ethan. The games have already started. Welcome, everyone to ‘Woman Up!’”
The contestants all turned to the monitor and shut up. They were starting now? They just got off of a four hour bus ride, and a five hour pne ride before that. They were exhausted. Miserable. Cranky.
Rafael audibly groaned. Of course they would start now.
“Now, of course, part of the purpose of this experiment is how you’ll all change under the treatments, but how are we going to figure that out unless we run a control experiment first, while you are still all… in your beginning state.”
Rafael was very grateful Erin didn’t say ‘default state.’
“As you can see, we haven’t assigned your rooms yet for the next three weeks. There are nine of you, and five double rooms. Of course, we figure most of you already have roommates that you had in mind. Jett and Bradley are in a retionship, Jacob and Gooch are friends, as are Ethan and Lenny - that leaves Oscar, Victor, Rafael.”
The contestants all knew this of course, but Erin wasn’t necessarily talking to them.
“Inside each of the rooms is cash - cold hard cash that you win immediately, in the amount listed on each of the doors. If you double up, you’ll split the cash, but if you end up as the lone singleton, it’s all yours. That is – if you all can agree on how to split it.”
“I call dibs on the 500 room, singleton, no takebacksies,” said Leonard.
“Ha,” said Rafael. “Nice try.”
Leonard shrugged.
“Right. Maybe we draw lots,” suggested Jacob. “Anyone bring a pack of cards or something?”
“Shouldn’t Rafael be getting the singleton?” asked Oscar. “I mean, you know… because… even though we’re all men… sort of, kind of… Rafael’s the only….”
Rafael gave Oscar a death gre.
“I must break you,” said Rafael, in his best Ivan Drago impression.
Pretty soon, the hallway devolved into cacophony as the men jostled for permission, Ethan babbling about game theory, Victor doing whatever he could to stir the shit, and Gooch, who by this time had gotten onto his hands and feet.
“Gooch, what are you doing?” asked Bradley.
“Looking for clues. There are always hidden clues in these things.”
“This isn’t an escape room, Gooch,” said Leonard. “Good thinking though.”
Erin cleared her throat, catching the group’s attention once more.
“Tell you what, we can’t argue about this all night. So, to encourage your cooperation,” said Erin. “I’ve put 5000 aside. And I’ll add that money to the prize pot as soon as you all agree on your room assignments. But, that money’s going to start counting down, and the longer you take, the more you lose. If you can’t agree on room assignments before the money runs out, we’ll just have to assign rooms alphabetically, and no one will get any money.”
Horror crossed Rafael’s face as he did the mental alphabetization and realized that would mean he’d be rooming with Oscar in Room #4. For Three. Whole. Weeks.
“Guys, guys!” said Rafael. “We have to figure this out!”
The 5000 number appeared on the monitor. And then it started ticking down, second by second, 4995. 4990. 4985…
***
