Part 6 of 11

Chapter 9
The alarm goes off and Patty shags me outa bed again. I shouldn't complain, it's almost an hour later than I hadda get up for school. That makes me think. Looks like Vito ain't gonna graduate this year as he's hiding out from the cops. I bet the pigs have been swarmin' around the school hopin' I was stupid enough to come back.

I ain't that stupid.

We shower together and she blow dries my hair and then I blow dry hers, I'm startin' to get this girly stuff. I even put on my bra all by myself without Patty even askin' and pick out a pair of tights that go with the dress I'm wearin'. It's kinda cool to snap up Patty's bra for her, and I even help her settle her boobs in it. That's me - Miss Helpful.

Even though my legs are smooth and hairless now, it's still too damn cold to be wearing stockings, and besides I ain't got no shoes, so I'm still wearing the borrowed boots. Patty tells me we can do more shopping tonight.

It takes a little longer to get ready this morning cuz we gotta do our makeup. Patty does mine, doing the explainin' thing again and warns me I'm gonna have to learn how to do my own over the weekend. She does make me do my own lipstick, and it still tastes as crappy as it did yesterday.

We gets to the salon and this time there were gals waitin' and ready to be worked on. I don't really know nothin' about beauty, but there are lots of little jobs that anyone can do, like sweepin the hair up, takin out the trash, stockin' the displays and such. Since I got a free ride yesterday I figure I should be helpin' out today. After all, what else am I gonna do, sit on my keister all day and watch them work?

This actually helps cuz I get to watch a whole buncha real ladies and how they do things. I gets the idea I got to slow down and watch how fast I move my hands and arms, so I tries to do my best. Ladies is a whole lot more touchy than guys - I mean they touch each other a whole lot more. If Vito started pawing the boys like the ladies do I would end up on my keister with a pressin' need to see a dentist.

My head was spinnin' with all the things I was tryin' to remember, but keepin' my ass out of jail is a pretty good incentive to learn it right. Besides, I was really likin' bein' one of the girls, they was a fun bunch and so were the customers.

One o'clock rolls around and we eat at the Mom & Pop place again, but Patty sez she's takin' the afternoon off so we can go shoppin'. Funny thing, right there I remembers something from when we studied the Greeks in school. Hey - I didn't like school all that much, but I did learn something!

Anyways, those old Greeks had this thing they called the Deus ex Machina, which the teacher sez means 'God outta the Machine'. That seemed so weird I remembered it. When some Greek play writer had written hisself into a corner and couldn't figure out how to end his play, he just had some God come floatin' down out of the sky and tell everyone how he fixed things up and they should go home and be good little worshipers.

What brought this little gem into my curly little red head was I was thinkin' Patty must consider me to be the Shopping God, since I came floating down out of the ceiling in her bedroom just like those old Greeks did. I hadn't figured out yet that Patty would use just about anything as an excuse to go shopping, but I figure I just raised the tone of this little remembrance by usin' me a literary allusion.

So we went shoppin' - at the Salvation Army and the Goodwill and some other secondhand places Patty knew about. I learned that while I may have got some grief about being on the small side as a guy, I was right about average size as a woman. That meant there were lots of clothes for me to choose from.

I really should say that there were lots of clothes for Patty to choose from, I had a lot to learn about what would look good on me. She still made me actually look at the clothes and tell her if I thought I would look good wearin' it. Like I ever had to think about how clothes would look before? Jeans and a T-shirt were fine by me. Momma pretty much picked out the fancier stuff I had to wear to school, but it weren't no wonderland of colors and patterns like I hadda learn about to be a girl.

We piled a cart with skirts, blouses and dresses and headed for the dressing room, where I tried on all the stuff while Patty told me if it was any good. After a while I started spottin' a pattern and was able to make some guesses as to what would work. It seemed to take forever, but it was kinda fun seeing how I looked in the different outfits.

We put the rejects back on the rack and then I wanted to get some pants, since it was still cold enough that skirts were not so wonderful when the Arctic winds were freezing my balls off. Not something a real girl would have to worry about, but I'm a special kinda gal.

That was a lot harder than skirts and dresses, since I don't have hips like most girls. Trying on pants with those tall boots was a major pain, so we went over to the shoe section and found a pair of what Patty called flats and I bought them. Much easier to slip them on and off when trying pants. We did find four pairs of lady's pants that worked and I got a couple of pairs of jeans from the men's section as well. Who the hell is gonna tell if they was men's or lady's, I asks ya? Well, the ones with embroidery were kind a giveaway.

Then there were shoes, so I ended up with a couple of pairs, including these high heels that looked to be as tall as the Empire State Buildin'. I didn't want them, but Patty told me that come summer all the boys would be drooling over my legs when I wore them. As you can figure, that wasn't really a great incentive, but I bought them anyway.

By the time we got out of there I was thirty bucks poorer but had my own clothes for a week or more. I thought I we was done, but Patty tells me that I need more; a girl just doesn't wear the same things too often. So we did it all over again at the Goodwill, then at the other places. I was feeling like a pack mule by the time we finished, but I was set to be a fashion plate in my new life as a girl.

Gettin' back on the bus was a pain in the… no, make that just a plain pain, but we managed. As we were gettin' off the bus with all our junk the young cop who come to our place comes strollin' out of the Cop Shop and offers to help us. I about shit my panties, and I don't give a damn about my language cuz that's what happened!

He takes a buncha the bags and Patty tells him we live in the next building over, Me, I can't say nothin' cuz I'm trying not to do a girly faint or nothin' like that, what with being a wanted murderer and all. The cop goes up to the apartment with us and brings in the packages just like nothin' unusual was happenin'.

Patty thanks the cop and he goes out and then I had to run to the bathroom before I really did shit myself. I sat there long enough to start breathin' again. When I got back to the living room Wendy was laughing her fool head off.

"...You found a cop to help you!?" asks a disbelieving Wendy

"He found us," I sez. "He must be young enough to still think he was a nice guy instead of a prick."

"Now Liza, not all cops are pricks. I guess since Vito was a crook he must have only met the kind that wanted to bust him."

"But we all know Liza is a good girl. Hey! Maybe the cop will ask you for a date the next time he sees you. He did look interested," chips in Jenny.

"Just what I eff… I need! I don't want the cops catchin' me."

"Not interested like that, but interested in maybe taking you on a date."

"Will you guys please stop it!"

"If you don't want to date the cop we could work on getting you a blind date."

"Jesus! You…"

"Language, Liza!"

"Teddy is taking me out to the movies tomorrow," offers Jenny. We could double date if he has a friend."

"You are just so eff… such a good friend to think of me, Jenny. We could tell them how we met while we're on our date."

"On second thought, I want him all to myself. You can find your own date."

"Want to go to the movies, Patty?"

"Sure. Just remember - no fooling around in the dark or you'll mess up your makeup."

"So I won't wear makeup."

"Not gonna happen, sweetie. Tomorrow is your day to learn how to do your own makeup."

"Oh joy!"

"I have a giant jar of cold cream and several boxes of tissues, so we're all set. By the time we leave you'll be putting on your own face."
 

And so it went, the furor over the robbery died down, I spent my days in the salon and learned how to do the things you didn't need to have a cosmetologist's licence to do and learned how to be Eliza. Truth be told, I was beginning to like Liza a whole lot more than I liked Vito.

The Boss even started paying me when I showed I could do nails good enough to make the customers happy. I've always been good at doing real small stuff. Uncle Dom said I was starting to get a real touch at picking locks before I had to go to ground.

I tried to be extra nice to the ladies as I did their nails, and pretty soon I was getting some sweet tips. Buttering up the ladies was a whole different thing for Eliza, since Vito's way of buttering up the chicks wouldn't do at all. Heck, Vito was a doofus when it came to chicks, I could see that now that I was a chick. A lady - Language Liza!

One other thing happened. Being around all those ladies and having to watch my mouth, it started to become easier so's to not get glared at. I listened to how the rich ladies spoke and tried to sound more like they did. I was starting to think I should have listened to my English teacher when he was harping on proper grammar.

On quiet evenings, I took to reading some of the girl's books out loud to practice. The big thing was that whenever I said anything ending in 'ing' I just naturally dropped the g on the end. Everybody talked that way so that's what I learned. So I tried real hard to say it right, and even wrote down paragraphs filled with 'ing' words to practice on.

I eventually got the whole thing down in a couple of months and the girls in the shop started commenting on how much better I sounded. Patty gave me some additional incentives that I'm not going to talk about, if you get my drift.

I even got to know how to use words like 'furor' from listening to the ladies talk about the bank robbery and what happened in the neighborhood.

After a couple months working under the table at the salon, Patty and I went to the Mom & Pop place down the block for lunch as usual, but this time there's a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window. Not too surprising since I had noticed that there seemed to be more people eating there in the last little while.

Since I wasn't making all that much money and was feeling like the girls was supporting me, I figured I should ask Charlie and Maud if I could do the job. We had eaten there so much we called each other by name.

Charlie thinks this is a great idea, (I think he thinks I'm a nice girl) and we cut a deal. I'm still working under the table even if I'm waiting on the tables, which is just fine with me. I don't have any ID as Eliza and sure as shooting can't use Vito's ID. So we cut a deal at half of minimum wage ($1.15 per hour) since I'd be getting tips.

That sounds ridiculous these days, but back then a gal could live pretty good on that money. You could get a decent meal from Charlie for about half an hour of working, and since I was working for him I got my lunch for free. Not a bad deal.

Since Uncle Sam doesn't know about us neither of us has to worry about taking out taxes or anything like that. I may be doing well as Eliza, but Vito's family values are still a part of me.

So now I've become a working girl with two jobs. Mornings at the salon, 10 - 2 at Charlie's place and more at the salon until Patty is done. Life sure does go in strange pathways. At least I didn't have to learn to roller skate like the carhops at the drive-in.
 

As I got better at speaking like a lady, I realized that Eliza needed some ID so she could do more than work under the counter. I traded some bills for a bunch of change from the register and looked up Auntie Aggie's number in the phone book. I went over to a phone booth down the street, since I wasn't gonna make any calls from anywhere that could be traced to me.

"Hello?"

"Hello yourself. Remember the little kid that used to try to swipe Uncle Joe's almost empty beer bottles?"

No names, never can tell who is listening.

"Indeed I do. We've been worried about him."

"I'm just calling to say he's doing pretty good and found some good friends to keep him safe."

"And you're one of those friends?"

Jeez - of course she wouldn't recognize Liza's voice. I been trying hard enough to make it different.

"That's right. I know him pretty well these days, but he doesn't want to be seen too much."

"Which is very good. I'm glad you called, I'll let the right people know he's doing all right."

"Actually, I can say he's doing a more than all right, he's found a new life. Which is why I'm calling."

"Yes?"

"Well, our beer snatcher has a friend named Eliza and she's rather like the hippies that are trying to find herself. He tells me you can do wonders in helping people find out who they really are."

Auntie Aggie is a gifted forger. She also has access to a list of real people who are no longer around so you can use their birth certificates to get a new identity. Of course, you can't be saying stuff like that over the phone.

"I've had some small success with that kind of thing. So your friend Eliza wants my help to find herself?"

"That's right. I hope it's not too much trouble."

"It's family, no trouble at all. How much does she want to find?"

"All she needs is a starting point. Your beer snatcher knows what to do from there, but any other effort would be appreciated."

"Nice to know my beer snatcher was listening. You're sure he's OK?"

"I can say he's found a whole new life and is doing remarkably well."

"Then give me a call in a week or so and I'll see what I can find."

"Thank you. I'm sure our friend will appreciate it."

"You wouldn't be my beer snatcher's girlfriend?"

"In a strange sort of way, I guess I am."
 

When I hung up the phone, I realized that I had been speaking in Eliza's new, more cultured voice the whole time. My Auntie thought I was my own girlfriend! How's that for kick in the head?

I guess I have some more work to do, the cultured Eliza wouldn't talk like that.

This might be a good place to talk about talking. As you've no doubt noticed, when all this started happening I was talking like a punk kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. That's because I was a punk kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, even if the railroad wasn't the actual dividing line between the neighborhoods.

To tell the truth, it's been painful to try to recapture how I spoke at seventeen. For that matter how I behaved at seventeen. I'm told that you sort of soak up grammar as you grow up, and all that I've written so far was just the way I grew up. I had no idea how bad it made me sound whenever I wasn't hanging around the neighborhood.

If I had started talking like the teachers in school I would have been mocked and maybe even thumped. Teachers were the enemy. Education was downright suspicious. Momma tried to tell me that was stupid, but I knew better. I had a rep to maintain and talking like a hood was a big part of it.

Then suddenly I'm surrounded mostly by women who value polite speech, who don't think that swearing twice in every sentence is required to have people take you seriously. I might have said how annoying it was to hear "Language Liza" over and over. Well, it was annoying. But I now know it was necessary.

It took quite some time, but eventually it got through to me that I could be taken seriously by talking like the women who were surrounding me; that the punk kid was not taken seriously. The punk kid was a pain in the ass and the nice girl Liza was the person who would get along with my friends.

I wasn't quite there yet as a well-spoken young woman, but I was on the way. So for the rest of this story I'm going to stop hurting my ears and just tell it like the woman I became.
 

Another strange thing started happening. About half the time when Patty and I got off the bus after work, the cop who carried our bags just happened to be around. That made me nervous, to have him hanging around. After the first few times we got to be on a first name basis, which is something I never thought I would be with a cop.

When we got home I remarked how odd it was that Mike was around so often and she just gives me that look and says "He's hitting on you, Liza. Haven't you figured that out?"

"Hitting on me? NO!"

"Wake up, girlfriend! You may not be a raving beauty, but I thought you were cute even with Jenny's puke all over you. You don't think I go out of my way to wash up every crook that falls out of my bedroom ceiling, do you? Now that I've let my magic fingers work on you you're a cute girl instead of a cute guy. Mike is trying to get the nerve to ask you out."

"Patty, he can't!"

"He surely can, and he's going to ask as soon as he gets the nerve. I really think you should go out with him, lover."

"You're crazy!"

"Crazy like a fox. Can you think of a better way to pump a cop for information about the murderer they're trying to catch?"

"That's… that's…"

"So crazy it might work. Admit it! Your lover is a genius."

"But what if he finds out who I am?"

"Liza, has anybody figured out who you are after all this time in the salon? Well, Ingrid must know because she waxed you, but she doesn't talk about her clients. Believe me, no one has a clue."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Good. Think about it while we make dinner. Want to learn how to make scalloped potatoes?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Don't even bother asking."