It felt good to be out of my second skin.

            “So, you found Victoria?”

            “I never knew she had a job at a British food place,” I said as I downed my Mountain Dew Code Red.

            “You think you’re going to make it?”

            “I’ve been asked that question all day. I’ll get a phone tonight.”

            “Meet anyone interesting?”

            I blushed, looking away from Julie.

            “Who is it?”

            “Love is stupid,” I muttered.

            “Did it happen to be the guy Victoria saw you with?”

            “His name is Eric, and I don’t know if I’ll see him again.”

            “It could be fate. I mean, a guy you just met wouldn’t usually ask you out on a date.”

            “It wasn’t a date. He just invited me to lunch. Not to mention that he thinks I’m a guy. Everyone does.”

            Victoria apparently told Julie everything.

            “What if you make it?”

            I took a sip of my soda.

            “I don’t…”

            The phone rang. My heart skipped a beat. I checked the caller ID. It was Jimmy.

            I cleared my throat and picked up the phone. My heart beat irregularly.

            “Hello,” I said, in my guy voice.

            “Taylor Logan?” said Jimmy on the other end.

            “Yeah,” I could barely talk, or manage a polite greeting.

            “This is Jimmy Goldman from the auditions. You probably want to here the results. The suspense must be killing you.”

            “More than you should know.”

            He laughed at my awkward, yet ironic joke.

            A pause. My stomach turned, my nerves were still, yet I could feel them sending messages at a fast rate.

            “Congratulations. You are going to be George Harrison in Abbey Road.”

            I covered the receiver and let out the biggest, girliest scream.

            “Uhh… that was my girl…friend. A girl who happens to be my friend,” I said to Jimmy, “I’m so excited. Thank you very much. Mr. Goldman.”

            “By the way, what is your hair color?”

            “Brown. Why?”

            “Do you think you can dye it to a darker shade of brown And I’m pretty sure you have your hair in a mop top.”

            “Yeah, I do,” I lied.

            “Good. That would be perfect. We are going to have you guys perform for the 64-65 with your actual hair, and we’ll use wigs and facial accessories for the later years.”

            “Cool. Gear.”

            “I also called to invite you to dinner at my house next Friday at 7, so you can meet the rest of your band mates. John, Paul, and Ringo.”

            “Yeah, sweet. I can make it. I graciously accept.”

            “It’s 742, Orchid Drive, it’s near the North of Chicago, before it goes into the suburbs.”

            Ideal suburban area, on the verge of an urban area. High scale, influential, sounds like the village of Stepford.

            “Alright, thank you very much for the opportunity Mr. Goldman.”

            “You’re welcome. Hey, you earned it! I’ll see you at seven.”

            “Yeah sure. Thank you once again.”

            “Alright, see you on Friday.”

            I waited till he hung up the phone for me to hang up.

            I turned to Julie.

            “I got in the band!”

            “I know. I heard,” said Julie with a wry smile.

            “This is so exciting! I’ve finally reached my ambition—oh shite, oh, oh, shite.”

            “What?”

            “He thinks I’m a dude. Mr. Goldman assumes that the Taylor Logan is a male with--.”

            “No need to go into it. Why don’t you tell him the truth?”

            “At the audition, just as I was about to sign in, they kicked a girl out who was rejected. My name being Taylor and all, I realized that I was mistaken for a guy. So I did my little guy voice, and got into the band. Apparently, Jimmy is some kind of sexist who believes that women should not be Beatles impersonators. It’s a little weird. He thinks he’s improper or something.”

            “He probably has that same rule about guys being Marilyn Monroe impersonators.”

            “Look, I’m going to have to become the Taylor Logan they think I am. I am going to have to disguise myself. A wig cannot be possible. I’m going to need to cut my hair, and dye it. My mom is going to be so upset. And I’ll have to get new clothes, work on my voice because it sounds wrong, even to me, and I’m going to have to use the prosthetic nose and eyebrows and teeth and side burns, the others I can do without, and I’m going to have to keep this a secret. I’ll need to hide it. If anyone finds this out, the secret will go around, and I will be kicked out of the band, and--.”

            “Whoa, just calm down, Taylor. Look, I can help you cut your luscious brown locks,” Julie joked, sarcastically, “And dye them. You know what I can do with a can of hair dye, and Sam and I can go find you some clothes at Macy’s or the Gap or something.”

            “Vintage. Taylor Logan shops at vintage.”

            “You mean that store you went to buy the outfit and dress.”

            “Yeah, the girl Mia there is really nice. Very earthy yet airy. She wears long skirts and smells like chai tea and some berry flavored incense. She told me to tell her if I got in the band.”

            “She is probably into some spiritual and herbal stuff, given the fact that she sounds like some hippie girl.”

            “Be careful what you use. She might take offense if she isn’t really a self-declared--.”

            “Don’t worry, you’re going crazy. Just calm down. I’m here for you and so is Victoria. We’ll work together and transform you into Taylor Logan. The Taylor Logan, the handsome, charming George Harrison impersonator.”

            “My Taylor Logan. My Taylor Logan,” I said to myself.

            Was it just me, or was my alter-ego just what I really want to be. I always wanted vintage clothes. The only clothes I have are from the Gap. Who was I becoming? Was I becoming the ideal me that I could never become in my dreams?