Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 01

March 22nd, 10:59 p.m.

Inside my apartment, I didn't waste any time pulling up Google on my Android tablet. I searched for the 'Grand Caymans Casino' and was happy to see there was such a place in Las Vegas; it actually opened January of last year. I went to their website, and it was certainly 'grand' and Caribbean themed - big whoop. I wasn't about to let my guard down though just because there was a website for a casino in Vegas I'd never heard of, for a contest I'd never heard of celebrating our Transgender Day of Visibility.

Something was still off about this for me. The guy hangs out here a week to try and recruit me? That's weird, right?

I followed a link at the bottom of the page for 'Property Management' and after a few clicks, I found 'Blake Schultz', a picture matching the guy from the club, and his title was listed as 'Chief Marketing and Experience Officer'. His bio said he came to them via the Hard Rock Casino in Atlantic City, NJ, where he was a booking agent and managed their nightclub. So, nice Vegas promotion Mr. Schultz, maybe you do know a little about the entertainment business after all.

I did a quick Google search on 'Blake Schultz + Las Vegas' and found the typical stuff: Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter accounts. All were for the guy I'd been stalked by - OK, followed by, not stalked. But seriously who hangs around a week to recruit a Trans singer? I hadn't decided yet if I wanted to let this guy off the hook for freaking me the out, though he was looking more and more legit.

When I clicked on the Google 'Images' link for my 'Blake Schultz' search, there were a few pictures of him surrounded by women in clubs, either in Atlantic City or Vegas. I couldn't tell where they were taken, so it was pure guessing on my part. One of the pictures was of him and some DJ at a pool party at a hotel - likely his hotel in Vegas, given the Caribbean themes of the surroundings. The pool was full of people, bikinis everywhere, plastic drink cups raised - it looked like something you'd see on MTV.

One picture of Blake caught my eye in the search for images - the one of him with an older woman. She was three or four inches shorter, had gray hair, a round full face, and she maybe was in her early sixties. I followed the picture link, which put me in his Facebook account, and there was a description he'd added to the photo: "Visiting mom in SD..."

The background of the photo was the Hotel del Coronado. The date was this past Monday. He had ties to San Diego; was this why he was here last week through tonight? Was he trying to recruit me, or could he have been stalking me? That was still the question. Grrr! Seriously, he is likely legit; I'm just being stupid. Recruit - is there something to recruit for, though?

I found a link for 'Upcoming Events' on the Grand Cayman website and looked at this month's calendar. Sure enough, there was a three-day-long event listed as the 'Transgender Day of Visibility Vocal Competition'. I followed the link to the event's main page and saw it was going to be run just like those reality TV singing shows.

The only difference was they were putting the contestants out there for the world to see with their PBS documentary filming of the event. This was more than just a singing contest, 'Competition', it was putting our lives out there for all to see - all to access... Blake had mentioned that; why didn't that set off more alarms?

Beyond the competition, the hotel appeared to be rolling out the red carpet for the three days of their Transgender Day of Visibility celebration. There were specials on rooms, dining, vendor exhibitions, contests, tours, seminars, and various parties, including a late-night pool party and dance. In essence, they were laying it out there that they were celebrating and accepting those who were transitioning or had.

Why was this the first time I heard of this? I had my nose in a few Trans support organizations here in San Diego, and not a peep had been said about this event. This was huge, though: a major casino on the Vegas strip acknowledging our existence and validating those who were Trans - mind blown...

March 23rd, 9:06 a.m.

The phone was answered on the fifth ring. "Hello...," the voice said tentatively.

"Hello, I... I'm looking for Blake Schultz, please."

"Yes, he is in a shower. May he call you," she asked.

The woman had a distinct German accent, not super thick, but certainly enough that you could tell she'd spent a good portion of her life growing up there. Was this his mother? Let's see.

"Thank you Mrs. Schultz. Could you please have him call Breanna at this number?" I rattled off my number and then explained briefly that since this was his cellphone, he would have my number. I'm not sure why I bothered, but maybe she wasn't hip to cellphone operations.

"I will give the message, Thank you."

"Okay, thanks, goodbye," I said when I couldn't think of anywhere else to go with the conversation.

"Goodbye..."

Since she didn't correct me, I must have guessed correctly - that was his mom who answered his phone. I guess he could be married, though I hadn't noticed a ring. And why had I even bothered to look? Augh! Focus! That was his mom, I was sure of it. The picture of her I saw last night certainly fit her voice.

March 23rd, 9:38 a.m.

After all my research into Blake's story, it would be a total lie to say I wasn't interested in joining the competition. The thought of putting myself out there on a much bigger stage than the jazz club was a little daunting, but I'd sang in a few competitions in the past - granted before transitioning - so I knew what I was getting into in that regard.

I loved singing and had recently found how to reinsert that passion into the person I was becoming. Only nit: the PBS filming and giving them a look into my life. Others were willing to do that in the competition, so I wasn't going to be the central focus of the documentary, but opening up wasn't something I was looking forward to. I had no problem owning my transition when challenged, but feeling like I had to justify my choices, state of mind, and anything else someone felt like laying on me could be tiring.

I called Kaley before reaching out to Blake, and she approved my time-off request. We'd talked about Blake stalking me last week, and she was a little concerned about his second stalking attempt last night. When I told her about all the research I had done, it set her mind at ease, and repeating all that information confirmed that I was happy with the choice I was making to join the competition.

Kaley said I could work today and tomorrow, my usual days off, then Sunday and Monday. That way I would only have to take one day of vacation for Thursday, the finale night of the competition, and then return on Friday, my normal day off. I was guessing I'd need a day off to recover because, as they say, "What happens in Vegas..." and all that crap about staying there...

The drive to Vegas, five hours worth of some of the most mind-numbing and boring highway scenery out there, was the only sucky part. I wasn't looking forward to that. Now I just needed to hit Bill up for help with musical arrangements for a couple songs we'd performed at past amateur night showcases. I pulled up his number, and before I could call, my phone began ringing...

"Hello..."

"Good morning, Breanna. Thank you for calling me back."

"Oh, hey Blake," I said, not so confidently.

"Sorry you got my mom; I was in the shower."

"Yeah, she told me. Does she live here in San Diego," I asked; I already knew the answer. And why did I have a split second mental glimpse of him in the shower? Grrr...

"My parents retired here after my dad got out of the Army. She lives out by the university."

"Really? I went to USD, a very nice area."

"You went to USD? I spent a year there but transferred to the University of Pittsburgh. What did you study?"

"I graduated two years ago with a B.S. in Marketing. How about you?"

"I studied mostly partying, so I didn't graduate when I should have. I think that annoyed my parents."

"Oh... Well, they have to be happy with what you've worked into there in Vegas, via Atlantic City...," I cringed - did I just give away that I researched him? Yup... Crap! I mean, he knew I would, right? It was expected.

"Probably... I did finally get my degree in Business Management, so I got back in their good graces. I'm getting ready to pull out of here; do you have an answer for me?"

"Yeah, ah... I would like to... If you still want me for your competition, yes, I would like to join it." I replied, tripping over my tongue like a fool.

"Excellent. I think you'll fit in well with the other talent. Do me a favor and text me an email address, and I'll have the staff running the show send you some forms you'll need to fill out - not much, really, but a lot of legal notification stuff. Once you get that stuff turned over, they'll get you booked for a room. If you know the songs you'll be singing, let them know that too. We've got a great band, or we can remove the vocals from any track. Oh, and get something setup for the stylists working the show right away; the staff will get your contact information. So, when do you think you'll arrive?"

Blake had rambled all that pretty quickly, so I really didn't get a good feel for whether he felt good about my decision to join; he was very businesslike in his tone. Forms, songs, and stylists - I'd only thought about the songs I wanted to maybe sing. Not about how to coordinate that with a band, a wardrobe, a stylist... I was certainly late getting involved with this gig.

"Ah... I was going to... Leave after work Monday night and get into Vegas, probably around 1 AM. I'm not looking forward to the drive."

"Oh... Most of the contestants are arriving Sunday. There's a meet-and-greet dinner Monday night, so you will have some catching up to do Tuesday morning," he sounded slightly concerned. "So, you're gonna drive, eh? Look, that's a shitty drive; let me setup a flight for you. What time do you get off on Monday?"

"I get off at seven if there aren't any late sale deals I need to get through financing," I replied tentatively.

"Where do you work," he asked.

"Cambridge Chevrolet in Sherman Heights..."

"You work in their finance department?"

"Yeah, I started while in college and worked my way up."

"Nice. So, if we got you on a flight after nine, you'd be good?"

"Sure, I guess... Thank you; I appreciate not having to do that drive."

"No problem. You're saving me from having to cut someone from the competition; the least I can do is fly you out there. Let's not mention that to anyone, though."

"Oh, Okay..."

"If you have any questions, send me an email, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can. So, we'll be seeing you in Vegas next week. Thanks again for accepting a spot in the competition, Breanna. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry; I was kind of bitchy about the offer. Well, it's hard for us out there sometimes, and I just wanted to say I was sorry." AUGH! Why was that so hard? Why do I feel like I'm talking to a guy who just got out of the shower wrapped in a towel right now standing in front of me? Get a grip!

"Not even a problem; I totally understand. I got to see my mom this week, and I found a good fit for the competition; we're all good. Hey, I've gotta run, so... See you soon."

"Oh, yeah... Sure, I'll see you in Vegas."

"Thanks Breanna... Goodbye."

"Bye..."

And there was the encouragement I was hoping to hear from him: 'I found a good fit for the competition'. It was not over-the-top encouragement, but he sounded genuine having said that. I would take it. I got the sense I wasn't just a warm body filling a spot. The fact that he mentioned understanding that there are challenges for those who are Transgender was a bonus. OK, I feel good about my decision. I'm in, I'm going to do my best, and this is going to be... Ah! I needed to get to work!

March 23rd, 11:23 a.m.

After checking in with the sales manager and Kaley, I closed my office door and dialed Bill's cellphone. I don't think it even rang once before I heard, "Yes..."

Huh? 'Yes'? It wasn't a question-kind of greeting; it was more of a statement.

"What do you mean, yes," I asked.

"I mean, 'Yes', I'll go with you to Vegas...," he said with a chuckle.

"Really! Oh my God! That would be so cool, Bill. Thank you." Hearing that, I was instantly soaring. I was dreading having to figure out the music for what I wanted to sing while... Wait a second! "Hey! How did you know about Vegas?"

"Kaley told me...," he said through a suppressed laugh.

"Ah... I'll have to talk with her about loose lips and sinking singers careers. But seriously, you can make it?"

"Girl, I wouldn't miss it! And who's going to keep you on point, some hired Vegas lounge pianist?"

"Charles is OK with you coming," I asked. Charles was Bill's husband; they married after California's Prop 8 passed in 2008. They were perfect together and really a lot of fun - after Charles loosened up with a little alcohol in him.

"Is he alright? I don't need his permiss...," in the background, I could hear Charles cutting him off mid-sentence, "We're both coming, Brea, wouldn't miss it... Congratulations girl!"

"Thanks Charles... Thank you, Bill, for agreeing. I've been stressing all morning about how I was going to function without you."

We talked about a few specifics and set up a time to meet at Bill's place tonight after work. I just needed to bring a bottle of wine; they would have dinner waiting, and the real work would begin in regards to what I was singing. I felt relief, a real happiness I hadn't felt in a long time, and some nerves - the good kind. With Bill there, I was confident I could hang with anyone in the competition; I just needed to stay positive.

March 26th, 10:56 p.m.

The last couple of days had been a grind. Between working nine days straight, practicing with Bill every night after work until midnight, and coordinating my participation in the competition from just over three hundred miles away, I was nearing my tipping point. Even with all of that going on these last couple days, I still managed to sneak out for a couple extended lunches with Kaley to spend the one thousand dollars the competition was allowing for wardrobe.

I knew my song choices; Bill and I had agreed on three songs, and I bought outfits that were in line with the style I wanted to portray and fit the songs. Nothing crazy, but certainly not something I'd probably have an opportunity to wear again - like a bridesmaid's dress, essentially.

The hour-long flight to Vegas was uneventful - from check-in to TSA screening - opting for the full body pat down after declaring myself as being Trans, to boarding, to sitting next to a guy who reeked of stale cigarettes. Okay, maybe that guy detracted from a hassle-free travel experience.

I wanted to sleep on the plane, but my mind was going in twenty directions, all while I was trying to sing my songs silently in my head. I should be committed to the loony farm. To say I was wasted right this minute would be an understatement, but I was in Vegas! So there was an upside to my all my efforts and struggles.

I caught the hotel shuttle from the airport, and at the front desk of the Grand Caymans Hotel, they were very polite and helpful. They knew who I was and what I was doing the next couple days while staying with them based on the unsolicited encouragement they offered. I wondered if they were going to be guessing who was CIS and who was Transgendered all week - not sure why I thought that, just my cynical side shining through. Whatever...

I made it to my room, showered, and was in bed by midnight. Tomorrow, it begins! Unfortunately, at 7 AM. The first item on the day's agenda was a contestant's breakfast with a briefing on the contest, processes, outside the competition demands for our time, and expectations for the documentary they were filming. Augh, unplug, unplug... Sleep already!

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Author's Note: Don't be afraid to rate this story if it's doing anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most 'Rates'). If you comment, I will reply directly to you (if you have an account) or in the comments if you're anonymous, so let's chat...

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me; I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated. Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore