Mistaken For A Girl Singer - Chapter 9

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"Honey, I am not going to lecture you, but if the doctor said to wait a week, then why not wait a week?" Chris's mom was stressed. Her twins were hundreds of miles away from home and Chris had just had surgery. 

Minor surgery, as these things go, yes, but surgery, nonetheless. When he'd told her that he had no real pain, just some pulling on the skin on his chest as it stretched and healed, she still wasn't happy.  

"Honestly, mom, I'm fine. The worst thing is this ugly bra that I have to wear for another week. Besides, the girls have recorded a lot of the tracks. I need to be there. I've been cooped up in this room since I got home on Friday and I'm going crazy! I'm too anxious to stay here."  

"I know, honey, but it's only Tuesday." 

 "Mom"  

"Ok. Ok. I just wish you weren't there all alone, sweetheart. When will Terry be back?"  

"I don't know, mom. They were at the studio till nearly midnight, last night. I guess that they'll be back when they're done."  

"Well, isn't there anyone who could be there with you?" 

 "Mom, please." 

 "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just so concerned about you being there all alone. Please, if you're lonely, or just want to talk, please, please, just call me. Any time, honey. Any time at all. 

Ok?"  

"Ok, mommy." 

 "You're sure that it's ok to go back, tomorrow, right?"  "Yes, mam. I'm seeing Dr Casey at 9:00. She says that, unless there are any issues with the incisions, I can go back if I want. And I really, really want to, mom."  "Ok, baby. I'll let you get some rest. Love you." 

 "Love you, too, mommy. Bye-bye."  

Chris hit the 'end' button on his phone and sighed. 

He hadn't used Skype or FaceTime to call his mom because he looked awful. He hadn't been allowed to shower for a few days, so his hair was looking hideous and since the girls had gone before he'd awakened this morning and he knew that he wouldn't have any company, he'd decided not to put on any makeup, today.  

The problem was, though, he felt like the old Chris unneeded, with no friends and alone. He hated this. He felt like he was losing momentum and he needed to get back to the studio or he'd bust wide open. 

 There was a knock on the door to the suite, Chris knew it was room service with the chicken soup he'd ordered. 

"Just leave it by the door, thanks! I'll grab it in a minute." 

He called.  

"No can do," a voice called back. "I need to talk to my beautiful superstar face-to-face."  It was Allen Bennett, Chris recognized his voice. 

"Damnit," he whispered, then he shouted, "Mr. Bennett?"  

"Oh, man. You guessed," chuckled back the voice.  Chris tried to think of an excuse, but nothing came to his mind. 

"Umm, Mr. Bennett, I'm really a mess in here. Can I see you in the morning?"  

He heard Mr. Bennett sigh.  

"Come on, Your Highness. I know what a person looks like 5 days after surgery. Open the door, Chrissie, I need to talk to you."  Reluctantly, Chris opened the door and let him in.  Allan stepped in and then turned to look at Chris. "Oh, dear God!" he joked, "you're a monster!"  Chris rolled his eyes and pulled his robe around him a bit tighter as he chuckled at the joke.  

"Here," Allan handed Chris a room service tray, "the room service guy was on the elevator with me. I don't think that chicken soup and a bread-stick is part of Denise's diet plan, is it?"  

Chris took the tray and shrugged. 

"She's been ignoring me the last few days, same as everyone else."  

Allan took a seat on the sectional sofa and indicated that Chris should join him. 

"Oh, poor little thing. No one loves her. Honest to God, you're breaking my heart. Ok, enough about you. We need to talk. 

When are you coming back?”  

“Tomorrow, I hope, if Dr Casey says I can.” 

 “Thank goodness! Did the girls play anything that they've recorded this week for you?”  Chris sipped his soup and shook his head.  

“I'm not surprised, Chrissie. It's not going great and I'm getting concerned. 

We had such a great start, but now they're floundering a bit without you.”  

“Me!?” 

Chris nearly spit out his soup. 

“Why me? I don't play guitar that much and both Terry and Grace are twenty times better than me. 

I thought everything was going fine.” 

 “Fine, yes. Great, no. 

Here's the thing, Chrissie. When I try to tell them how to do something better, they shut down. They don't seem to understand what I'm getting at. But, I've watched you guys working. When you tell them how to do it, they get it. 

You know how to communicate with them better than I do. I guess it's a kind of Wonder Twins thing. You know?”  

“Not really.” Chris was a little perplexed. He’d never heard of ‘The Wonder Twins.’ He remembered what Margo had said the other day. She’d said that Allan wanted the girls to come up to Chris’ level.  

“Mr. Bennett,”  

“Oh, my God, you girls, please, knock it off. Call me Allan, please.”  

Chris thought about it for a moment, but shook his head and continued, “Mr. Bennett... sorry, I can't call you by your first name, yet. 

It's how my mom raised me. Anyway, I don't think it's me or what I say. 

I think it's us. You know, it's like that saying, ‘The whole is better than the sum of the individual parts.’ Like... do you know who The Beatles were?”  

Allan looked incredulous. 

“Yes, Chris, I've heard of The Beatles. What does that have to do with you and the girls? 

Please, don't tell me that you're comparing yourselves to The Beatles?”  

“No, no, it's just, well, my dad loved The Beatles, so I did too. I know every song backwards and forwards and, as I got ready to come here, I read a lot about how they worked in the studio and, I think it was George Harrison who pointed it out, but, whoever it was, he said that they had a shorthand, you know what I mean.”  Allan nodded.  

“So, once they had a song and played through it a few times, they'd just look at each other in a certain way and everyone knew what that look meant. 

I think it's the same way for the girls and me. I mean, I've only been in the band for a month or so, but Terry and I have played together since we were 5 or 6. 

Our dad taught us how and he and Terry and I would play every night. I know how to communicate with her and she knows how to communicate with everyone, so... I don't know, it just works.”  

Allan smiled. 

“Ok, I get it. So, hopefully, we can get better communication going tomorrow, ok?  

“Ok.”  Allan hesitated. “Does your dad know about, this?” He indicated Chris’ clothing and new breasts.  Chris shook his head, no.  “Do you want me to tell him?”  “My dad’s dead, sir.” 

 “Oh, Chris. I'm sorry. I didn't know. How did he pass away? Was he ill?” 

 “No, sir. I was because of me.” 

 “What?” Allan was truly confused. “What do you mean, Chris?” 

 “Well, sir. When I was a boy, I was kind of always kind of sick. Terry was always healthy and smart and athletic while I was always missing school and in the hospital. 

Eventually, they figured out that I had a rare blood disease and they were able to treat it, but for a while, like from fourth to seventh grade, I was in the hospital more than I was home.”  

Allan realized that this was probably the reason for Chris’ small frame and shy nature. Poor kid.  

“So,” Chris continued, “this one night, Terry had a concert at school and Dad never missed anything like that, so he went and he used a video camera to record it for me. He told me he'd come to the hospital to show me after the concert and he did, but while we were watching it, it started to snow pretty heavily. 

When he left at 10:00 that night, he said he loved me and that he'd be back in the morning to eat breakfast with me as usual. Anyway, he never made it home.”  Allan was speechless for a moment. 

“Chris, I'm so sorry.”  Chris shrugged. 

“So, I guess it was my fault, you know. If I'd been at home, my dad would still be alive, but, I wasn't, so my mom was alone and Terry didn't have a dad, and it was kind of all my fault.”  Chris didn't cry, but Allan saw his sorrow. It was deep and irrational, but Chris was showing him sadness as deep as his soul.  

“Chris, you know that it wasn't your fault. Your dad loved you and was concerned. There's a reason that these things are called accidents, you know.”  

Chris is half-nodded and half-shrugged. This was probably the first time he'd ever said this out loud and he couldn't even look at Allan after saying it.  

“Chris, when you sing, I can hear such deep, beautiful feeling in your voice. I think, just maybe, that when you sing, part of you can sense your dad right there with you, can't you?”  Chris nodded and a tear ran down both cheeks.  

“You know what I think, Chris? I think your dad can feel you when you sing, too. I think you can channel his love when you open your mouth and let that beautiful sound come out. 

What do you think?”  

Chris’ head rolled forward and he tried to hide his tears with his hair, but he gave a little nod and said, “I hope so,” very quietly.  Allan reached over and patted Chris’s back. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to upset you.”  

Chris shook his head and raised it back up. 

“No. I'm not upset. It's just been a very sad and lonely day for me.”  “Can I make a suggestion?”  Chris nodded, again.  “Write a song. When you're sad, write it down. People love sad songs. What was your dad's favorite song?” 

 Chris thought, then said, “I don't know. He listened to everything and loved it all. When he sang, he had this great, low voice. 

Very manly, you know? 

People loved to hear him sing. Just this afternoon, I was trying to remember this one song that he used to always sing, but I can't remember it. 

It was kind of fast and a little folky, but I just can't remember it.”  Allan smiled, “Did you ask your mom?” 

 “No. I never bring up Dad unless she does and I think she avoids bringing him up so that something like this doesn't happen.”  

He smiled at Mr. Bennett.  

“You’re a very talented young guy, Chris. 

Your dad would be proud.”  Chris gave a nervous shrug, “My dad would probably be as confused as I am, right now. I mean, I know that I'm doing the right thing, it all feels so right, so, I guess it has to be right, but I really never dreamed that I'd ever be where I am right now and I certainly never dreamed I be recovering from breast implant surgery or wondering what dress to wear to the studio.”  

Allan gave a reassuring smile, held up a finger, stood, and disappeared into Chris’ room for a moment. When he reemerged, he was carrying a simple, light blue, casual summer dress on a hanger. 

“I'll make it easier for you, sweetheart. 

Wear this tomorrow. 

Blue is beautiful on you. It'll give you a little extra something when you sing. Ok? 

We’ll call it your power-dress.” 

He hung it from the mounding around the closet door.  Chris smiled. He knew that Allan was just being a ‘dad’ for him right now and he found it very sweet. 

“Ok, I'll wear that tomorrow.” 

He laughed just a bit to himself because not only was the dress Terry’s, but she had worn it to the studio a few times already. Obviously, Allan had not noticed.  “Ok, Chris. I'm going to head out. Let me know how tomorrow goes and come back as soon as you can, ok?”  

“Ok,” said Chris.  Allan gave him a hug, then put his hand under Chris’ chin and raised it so he could wipe the tears from his cheeks. “You gonna be ok?” 

 “Yeah. I'm fine.” 

“Ok. See you tomorrow, I hope, and, if you do happen to write a good song tonight, bring it with you. 

We could use one or two more for the album.” He placed a very welcomed kiss on Chris’s cheek and headed out the door.  “Ok,” Chris smiled as he closed the door behind Allan. 

He considered trying to write a little, but he didn't feel inspired without Terry and Margo. So, he decided to just put on his nightie and go to bed. Who knew when the girls would be home it was better to be asleep than lonely.      

“It's good, girls, I'm telling you the truth,” said Mark Johnson, the assistant producer and recording tech for their album. “Allan’s going to like it, I promise. Why don't we call it a day?”  

Margo snickered, “What's the matter, Mark? 

Can't wait for your date with Terry?”  Terry punched Margo in the shoulder, 

“Shut up, you tease. He's right. I think that the tracks sound good. Until we get Chris back, I think we're in good shape.”  

Grace and Gina walked into the booth. Both had changed into new Country-style, short dresses with new cowgirl boots.  

“So, are we done?” Asked Gina, “Cause I can't play drums dressed like this.”  

“I guess so,” Margo said with a little frustration in her voice. 

“Since the three of you are all letting your hormones get the better of you, there doesn't seem to be anything else we can do, tonight.”  

“Good!” 

Exclaimed Mark, as her grabbed Terry by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. 

“Why don't you get all prettied up, like Gina and Grace, and I'll change my shirt and we can all go dancing!”  

Terry gave him a quick peck, turned and grabbed the dress and accessories that she'd bought during dinner break, and grinned broadly as she ran to the women’s room to change. Mark stood and started unbuttoning his shirt.  

“What do you say, Margo?” Mark encouraged her for the 14th time. 

“We can swing into a store for a nice dress on the way, then all of us can go. It'll be fun! Come on.”  Margo smiled, “No. I'm going back to check in on Chrissie. She must be lonely.”  

“Oh, how sweet,” Grace said, as she changed her earrings.  

“Oh, yeah,” Gina teased. 

“You tell us not to go out, but you're headed back to your little piece of tush-y at the hotel.”  

“Oh, hush,” Grace joined the teasing, “but remember that she's only a high school junior. Nothing beyond second base.”  

Margo laughed with them as Terry came back in. “What did I miss?” Terry asked.  “Just reminding your bass player, here,” said Gina, “that your pretty little sister is only seventeen.” 

“Ugg,” joked Grace, “bass players are the worst. Always looking for a piece of ass.”  They all laughed.  Mark, who was used to the playful banter, joined in the laughter as he buttoned his clean shirt. 

“Wait, aren't you in college?” 

He asked Terry.  

“I was till a few weeks ago.” 

 “Oh. I thought that you and Chris were twins.” 

 “We are. It's a long story, but we are twins.” 

 “So... shit, are you only seventeen!?” 

The others laughed as Terry nodded. 

 “You are robbing the cradle, Mark, my man,” Margo joked as she threw her arm around his shoulder, “but, don't worry about it. 

So am I.” She said, as she slapped his shoulder and they all headed to the elevators.  When they reached the lobby, there were two town cars waiting for them. Mark, Terry, Grace, and Gina all piled into one while Margo got into the other.  

The hotel suite was dark when Margo arrived. She had expected Chris to still be up, it was just 10:00. She crept up to his bedroom door and peeked in. 

The room was dark and his breathing was deep and steady he was asleep.  Margo let a disappointed sigh pass her lips as she went to her room to change. 

She stripped to her panties put on a tank top and a pair of women’s silk boxer bottoms and climbed into bed. She rolled to her side and could already tell that sleep was hours away.  

“This is ridiculous,” Margo said in a frustrated whisper. She threw her blankets off and walked directly back to Chris’ door. 

She quietly opened the door, slipped in, and crawled into bed behind Chris, as quietly as she could.  Chris felt her and stirred. “Hi,” he whispered.  

“Hi,” Margo whispered back and pulled his hair gently off of his face and laid it behind his head.  

Chris barely opened his eyes but was enjoying the feel of his hair being combed by her fingers. 

“Did things go well?”  

“They went ok. We miss you. Can't wait for you to come back,” and she began kissing his shoulder and neck.  

Chris jumped awake and turned to see who was kissing him.  

“What!?” Said Margo, startled by his movement. 

 Chris shook his head, “Oh, God, I thought you were Terry. 

You scared me,” and he settled down into her embrace, but facing her so he could turn his head upward to kiss her soft, firm lips.  

Margo’s hands slipped down his shoulders and grazed his new and still bandaged breasts. 

They definitely felt different than the breast forms he’d been wearing.  

As they kissed, she caressed him through the panties and teased, “Ooh, look what I found in your little panties. That's not very ladylike, now is it!?”  

 Chris panted and nodded.  

“Then I'll make it memorable,” she smiled.  

His hair was a mess from not being able to shower and the combination of the pretty little nightie and no makeup made him look like a little girl in her arms. 

 “Did you like that?” 

She asked, “I did.”  

“Did it taste good?”  

Chris just looked back up, smiled, and hugged her some more.  

“I bet it did. It'll help you sleep, baby. Now, close your eyes and Margo’s going to hold you all night.”