Chapter 06: One Guy in a MillionK was sittio my bed when awoke. How long had she been there? I might’ve cried out in my sleep again. That happens sometimes; it’s embarrassing. Girls go on as much as they like about how they want their men to be sensitive aive, but at the end of the day what they really want are guys who are tough and silent. They definitely don’t want sissies that cry in their sleep. But what I say? I get bad dreams.

  “Are you ready to begin?” K asked.

  I felt a hell of a lot better than before. Still a bit hazy, a bit dopey, but the pain was a manageable throb in the background. I could deal. I wouldn’t want to debate a major issue or run a marathon, but my head was on a hell of a lot straighter than before--straight enough for me to have sed thought about this crazy scheme. The sunlight wasn’t snting in through the door anymore. It must’ve been night, which meant I’d been out for a solid twelve hours at least.

  I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. I felt a moment’s wooziness but fought it down. When I stood up I felt ill, like I was going to throw up, but it wasn’t that bad. Truth is I felt sicker at the thought of what was ing than at the pain. How the hell was she going to make me into a passable woman?

  “I have something for you that might help.” I thought she was going to hand me anss of water and some pills. Me, I don’t like to take pills or most medies, to tell you the truth. First off all, they ofte in a funny way with me. Dunno why; something in my blood chemistry, I guess. But when the warning on the box says one guy in a millios in a funny way to a drug, that guy’s probably me. And besides, who knows what’s really in those pills people hand yht?

  Maybe I’m a bit paranoid. Maybe it’s from being bought out by a pharmaceutical pany. So even though my legs were a bit wobbly and I was still hurting, I shook my head no. “Nah, it’s okay, K,” I said. “I’m feelier. The pain’s not so bad.”

  “Believe me, you’ll .” She gave a small smile. “But I thought a stiff drink might help you get through this.” The pills were there, but instead of water she handed me a scot the rocks.

  What a girl. And it was good stuff, too, dark ay, a Laphroaig maybe. I wondered if they had a list of my favourite drinks in my file.

  “Good,” K said once I’d pounded back the drink and the pills, a waste but the sudden burn at the back of the throat and the warmth of the alcohol in my empty belly invigorated my limbs. It settled my nerves a bit. Fuck, but was I ever nervous thinking about what was ing up. I hadn’t felt this nervous in ages. “Follow me.”

  She led me into the room, as grey and dull as the bedroom. It wasn’t much, to say the truth. There was an attached kit with an old and stained fridge that hummed noisily in the er, stained carpeting and threadbare curtains. B IKEA-looking furniture, chipped and dirty, finished off the decor. There wasn’t even a video s or puter. That kind of bothered me, since I wao see if there’d been a rea to my testimo. I’d basically thrown my life away to see this bastard put away. I wanted some results. For the st five years things had been going really fug well--a bit b, yeah, but fortable, a real and normal life. Now I was about to slip a dress on and pretend I was a girl. Jeremy Steele had better get put away for this. I wondered if Tom was going to gh the same bullshit. Hopefully Steele’s attention was so fixated ohat he’d avoid the embarrassing ies I was about to endure. I mean, the guy’s over six feet tall and an ex-college linebacker: he’d make a terrible woman.

  There was a window but I knew better than to hang out at that end of the room. Instead, K went over to a table and grabbed a bag and ha over to me. “You’ll his,” she said.

  I looked inside. It was one of those cheap pstic toiletry bags. There was a bunch of shower products in there. The bottles were pink and flowery and looked very girly.

  “What the hell’s this shit?” I asked, even though I’d had enough women leave their shit scattered across the bathroom to know perfectly well.

  “It’s all perfectly normal items for a woman to use in the shower,” K answered. Then she fixed me with those serious eyes again, that stare. It finally registered that she had eyes as grey as a northern sea. “dy.”

  “Easy there,” I said.

  K shook her head. “The earlier you get used to it, the better. Your name, until we clear you of this mess, is dy.”

  “Aw, K, it’s just the two of us in here. Call me Dave. Call me Mr Saunders if you’ve gotta. But a chick’s name? Gimme a break.”

  “Your name is dy,” she said, and the tone of her voice brooked nument. “You are twenty years old and female. The earlier you accept this, the better.”

  “Oh for Chrissake,” I muttered. “This is ridiculous.”

  I didn’t know which part was more irying to pass me off as twenty or as a woman—but there wasn’t any point in arguing with her. I’d already itted myself. And like she said, this shit was only temporary. Until I could get to that hospital, get myself checked out, and then pick up a new identity ahe hell out of Dodge. I felt fi the moment--mostly--but I knew how deceptive that could be. Just because I could stand didn’t mean there might not be something seriously wrong, especially with that bruise over my temple. The sooner I went along with K’s pn, as insane as it was, and got myself checked out, the better.

  “Fine,” I said. “But what the hell am I supposed to do with all this?”

  She poio a room off of this one. “Begin in there,” she said. “Use this first. Read and follow the instrus.” She indicated a pink bottle. “Thehis.” She pulled out a , also girlishly pink, and a razor.

  “What the hell?”

  “Shave everywhere: legs, chest, armpits, fabsp; Shave your face twice.”

  “K, no one’s going to see me that close up!”

  “Why risk dete because of sloppiness? We need your disguise to be as ving as possible, sidering the circumstances.”

  “Listen,” I insisted. “You sp a dress on me and whatever, but there’s no way I’ll pass for a chick up close.”

  K just gave me one of those steady, unfling stares. “I will be the judge of that,” she said, “and you may be surprised.” That was that, really. When I dig my heels in, I’m a pretty stubborn bastard. But with K, I just didn’t seem able to find my footing. Unnerving, that woman, and it wasn’t just the lesbian thing. But for some reason I just didn’t want tue with her. Probably because I trusted her. I mean, me heading into the bathroom and shaving all over was kind of weird, but she wanted me to do it for my own goht?

  So, following her order to use the rest of the crap in the bag as well, I grudgingly trudged off into the room. It was another bedroom, a rger oh a double bed, and with a small en-suite bathroom. I stepped into the bathroom and got the shower started. I looked over the first bottle. It was one of those Nair-type things that chicks use, some kind of cream to burn the hair off of me.

  Well, what the hell was I going to do? Suddenly I was really gd that I’d had that drink. I’m not sure I could’ve dohis otherwise. I stepped into the shower and thered myself up with this shit and waited out the time. It stank a bit and ti first aually burned unfortably. When I rinsed myself off I was amazed at how muy body hair sloughed off with it. But I wasn’t do. K wanted me to shave as well so dammit, I was going to shave. I thered up with a of pink-sted shaving cream and picked up the razor a at it.

  It was a totally new experienbsp; A strange oo be ho. I’d never done something like this before. Even thering up was different. It didly smell like my macho Gillette’s, if you know what I mean. There I was surrounded in this flowery cloud, holding this quadruple-bded razor with a ft ha even sat differently in my hand pared to what I was used to. I had this real moment of hesitation. Uhe steaming hot water, what I was about to do seemed really fug weird. And wrong. I mean, how was this all necessary? But I also thought about what K had said, and that also made sense. And I remembered that I trusted the woman, and with that in mind I brought the razor down to my leg and took the first stroke.

  I’d like to think I did a good job. The chest was easy enough. The armpits were aory. Fuck, but I wouldn’t want to do that every week. Talk about gaining respect for the shit women gh to look good. As for the legs: well, the shins were easy enough, but I’ve got to admit reag those tough spots in the inside of the knee was another matter. The pills and booze he pain enough that ing and stretg and blind strokes with the razor didn’t knock me out, and I mao get the job done, slig away the little the depitory hadn’t removed. After that it retty simple matter to riher-repeat, washing out my hair until it smelled like a woman’s. The shel was a tad more floral than I would’ve liked, though. I stank like a fug garden by the time I finished.

  The air felt chilly when I stepped out of the shower. The towel slid ay skin differently without any hair between me and the fabribsp; There was a full-body mirror ihroom, but fortunately it was all fogged up from the shower. It must’ve taken me nearly thirty mio get it all done. I felt just a little water-logged after all that. My head was a bit fuzzy again as well.

  I really didn’t want to see myself at that point. I could see glimpses of my hairless legs and that was enough. I’d never exactly been what you’d call a hairy guy but you get used to what you’ve got and its absence was just pin discerting. There was another bottle in the bag for me to use: some kind of baby-powder-type stuff. So I powdered myself all over, and by the time I was done I felt like a total fug pansy. I couldn’t believe how smooth my ski. If I closed my eyes a my thigh I bet I could fool myself into thinking I was stroking up some chibsp; I passed my palm along my leg and didn’t find any stubble, but the feeling of my palm sliding smoothly against skin kinda freaked me out.

  I finally stepped out of the bathroom. Big surprise, K was waiting for me.

  “dy, what are you doing? Please try to show a little modesty.”

  What the hell was she talking about? I had a towel ed around me, a surprisingly soft and fluffy one (pink) sidering the state of this shitty apartment.

  “I know we’re both girls here, but still,” K tinued, and she suddenly blushed. It was strange, seeing this strangely human and bashful rea on a woman like K. “I see your chest and everything. . . .”

  Bloody hell. I was wearing my towel like a man, c the important bits but ly worried about the chest. Sighing, I readjusted the towel to cover my pebsp; It still reached to my crotch, but left me feeling like my ass was hanging out. That wasn’t cool.

  “Good.” K suddenly sounded all professional again, dropping the shyness. “Begin with the articles on the bed, please.” She stepped out of the room.

  I approached the bed with some trepidation. I knew what was ing but that doesn’t mean I was looking forward to it. And sure enough, there on the bed were articles that even in a drunken, blind state you wouldn’t mistake for anything other than feminine.

  The panties came first. Did she really expect me to wear these? Fubsp; There was a bra as well, also d bbsp; Beh them was a rolled-up lump that revealed itself as a pair of bck pantyhose. Wonderful. They werely the day-to-day shit that most women wear, either pin or durable; these were so sheer they were nearly invisible and tinted bd had a cy, embroidered top. Last time I’d seen clothes like this was nearly two months ago, before I saw any kind of murder or anything. It’d been after a night out at a club.

  Alice had been hot and willing and easily impressed by my slick clothes and good job and easy money. Fuck, girls usually are. God, I love girls, how they fall for the cheesiest lines, how soft they feel in your arm and the way they like to cuddle up. Don’t get me wrong, though. I also respeen--well, some women, that is. I’ve known enough women who seriously kick my ass to not respect them. Like the woman I used to work for, Sakura, ba the day. And Persephohe woman I loved.

  Fug Sephy. . . .