“Mason, put it on,” wheedled Jim. “Genomics is a major sponsor, so you need to go with the flow and make them happy.”
“Did you plan this?” I asked forcefully, staring daggers at him. “Did they tell you they were shipping a swimsuit with this on it?” I gestured angrily. “Seriously, do they expect me to humiliate myself to hawk their product?”
Jim was nasty in his reply.
“You need to be a team player,” he hissed. “Genomics’ corporate rep is standing right over there so I suggest you slap a smile on your face while they’re watching.”
I was just about to tell him put it in the you-know-where when Janie stepped in. Again, her calm demeanor and sharp instincts took over.
“Listen, how about if a dummy wears it instead?” she asked reasonably. “Mason’s got about a minute before he’s on camera again, and there’s no way he can change in time,” she said. “Why don’t we bring out a mannequin? It’ll be fine,” she soothed.
Sure enough, a prop stylist ran forward with a dummy, already dressed in the ridiculous attire. It was still terrible to look at but far better than me wearing it. For one, the fake man was sex-neutral with no genitals, so there was no tell-tale bulge. Instead, it looked asexual and somewhat okay.
I shot Janie a grateful look.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I rumbled. “Thanks.”
The curvy girl smiled at me over the dying protests of Jim, but it was too late. The cameraman was counting down and in five seconds, the show was live again as I strode over to my mark.
“Hester,” I said, a genuine smile on my face. “I wanted to thank Genomics and to show my enthusiasm, we’ve brought out Rob here,” I said, gesturing to the dummy, “and he’s wearing the swimsuit that we talked about.”
Hester’s eyes popped when she saw the mannequin but hey, you don’t get to her place in life without being good on TV.
“Mason Phillips, with his best friend Rob,” she laughed, her smile wide and telegenic. “And don’t we all love corn?”
After that, the telecast went smoothly. I had my sister to thank, and I made sure she knew it.
“You’re wonderful baby,” I said under my breath as we left the soundstage. “Thanks for saving my ass.”
I meant it. Without Janie, there were so many moments when I would have fallen prey to the marketing gurus, the PR schticks, and even my own agent. My sweet sister had out-maneuvered the producers, the sponsors, and the folks who did this for a living. Come to think of it, I needed to review Jim’s contract because I wasn’t exactly happy with the way my stepsister had to step in all the time. It should have been his job to protect me, and not hers.
But in the meantime, I was happy. Janie had become my lover, my confidant, and my best friend. Frankly, life couldn’t get any better … until it all spun out of control.
15
Mason
“Have you been getting enough to eat, sweetheart?” I asked Janie, concerned. Our lives had been a whirlwind recently. Between promos, commercial shoots, making the rounds at talk shows, and special event appearances, Janie and I were drained. Come to think of it, she looked like she was losing weight and that didn’t sit well with me. I like my girls with generous curves, and I didn’t want her to become a stick figure.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Haven’t you noticed? I’ve been eating like a pig,” she said with a smile.
“Well baby, eat all you want,” I drawled. “So long as you’re wet for me, then I’m good.”
“Of course I’m wet,” she breathed, leaning over to give me a kiss. “Always,” she added with a sly smile.
Just when I was about to pat that little pussy, my phone dinged. Fuck, it was Jim’s ringtone. I sighed, picking up.
“Jim, my man, this better be good,” I drawled. It was probably some bullshit because my agent was always hyperventilating about this and that. Unfortunately, this time proved to be no exception.
“What the fuck have you been doing?” my agent screamed into the phone, so loud that I had to hold the receiver away from my ear. “Who the fuck have you been fucking?”
What the hell? What was going on?
“Chill out,” I drawled. “Pull that stick out of your ass,” I commanded. I was the boss after all. “What’s your problem?
“What’s my problem? What the fuck is my problem?” he screamed. “What the fuck is your problem? Don’t you realize that endorsements are on the line? Don’t you realize that sponsors can terminate you for any fucking reason they want?”
I looked at the phone dumbly. What was he talking about? But Jim didn’t wait for a reply.
“You douchebag! Can’t you do anything without thinking with your dick?” he screeched. “Do you really have to let your little head lead you around like a fucking moron? What the fuck is wrong with you? A transwoman? Really? You’re man of the moment and you have to go out and bang a he-she? What the fuck, man, really, what the fuck?”