CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Pay or PyMary Silva had all of three minutes to make one of the biggest decisions of her twenty seven years of life. She had accumuted over thirty-thousand dolrs… thirty-thousand! That was enough to pay off her student loans. It would even be enough to pay off most of her car loan too.

  It was getting tougher to make things work without her husband Dale around, may he rest in peace. It wasn’t just tough financially - but emotionally. And to be able to work less and spend more time with her son… It would be really nice.

  But on the other hand, she could risk it in the Final Frenzy round. She probably should, really. It was very rare for anyone to actually lose everything. Even with half her winnings, it would make a big dent in her loans. That’s not nothing. And if she won? That… that would be a lot of pressure off of her. She really didn’t want to miss her son growing up. Maybe even start a little college fund for him.

  She must have looked nervous, as Jimmy Howard himself headed over to talk to her.

  “Hello, Mary. How are you feeling?”

  “Jimmy, I’m nervous as hell. It’s a lot of money we’re talking about.”

  “It is. I think it’s actually a record, at least for this stage of the game. You pyed brilliantly. I think all of America’s rooting for you.”

  “I got lucky,”

  “You put yourself in a position to get lucky. You know when we come back from commercial break I have to ask you if you want to continue.”

  Jimmy offered his hand for emotional support, and Mary took it.

  “Mary, I’m going to tell you something I tell every contestant that gets this far: The audience is going to chant and yell and tell you to risk it. They always do. But they’re not the ones pying. It’s your decision. And it’s a tough decision. It’s designed to be a tough decision. Make sure you’re making the decision you want to make, alright?”

  Mary nodded. “Thank you, Jimmy.”

  She stood in the winner’s circle and thought for a moment.

  “Mary, I’m getting the signal that we’re coming back from commercial. Are you ready?”

  “I am, Jimmy. Thank you.”

  The director called for the appuse sign and the lights came back up. Jimmy smiled into the camera and stood next to Mary in the winner’s circle.

  “Alright. We’re here with Mary Silva, a young wyer from Los Angeles, California, who has earned 30,200 so far. But now - the big question. Mary. Are you going to risk your money in… the Final Frenzy? In front of you on the screen, you can see our shark tank is brimming with sharks. All you have to do is get across the board without hitting a shark. If you can do that, we’ll multiply your winnings by ten, for a total of…”

  Jimmy gestured to the big board where a bright 302,000 fshed. The audience cheered.

  “But if you hit even a single shark, that total drops to only three times your winnings.”

  90,600 appeared on the board.

  “That’s not bad. But then we get into dangerous territory. Hit two sharks, and we’ll halve your money.”

  15,100 appeared on the board below that.

  “And of course, three sharks… and you’re sunk. Now, I want you to think carefully about this decision.”

  It wasn’t just the little animated sharks that wanted to see some blood tonight. The audience, as Jimmy promised, started chanting “Fren-zy! Fren-zy!”

  Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then finally answered Jimmy’s question.

  “Jimmy, I’ve thought about it. I’m going to go for it.”

  Jimmy looked puzzled. That was not the answer that he thought that she would choose. He was so startled he stammered: “Are you… are you sure?”

  “I am, Jimmy. And I’ve thought about it. Thirty thousand. That can make my life a lot easier, wouldn’t it? But… I’m never going to be here again. I’m never going to py this game again. If… if I don’t go for it, I’m always going to kick myself for not seeing how far I can go.”

  “You’re not worried about losing it all?”

  “Jimmy, of course I’m worried. It’s a lot of money. But here’s the thing - in this world, you can py it safe, you can do everything right, and you can still lose. I think I’ll regret not knowing what could have happened, more than I’ll regret losing the thirty thousand.”

  Jimmy really liked this contestant. And he really hoped she made it.

  “Alright. If you’re ready… Let's py Final Frenzy!”

  The audience erupted.

  ***

  A decade and a half ter, Christopher Roen found himself distracted thinking about the results of the election. Normally he would crush those disturbing thoughts, but all the cruelty and disdain for humanity on dispy made him homesick.

  He remembered the advice his mother gave him when he first moved out of the house: “The only thing you can count on in life is disappointment– and even that might let you down.”

  Sage words. Sage words from a wise woman.

  Daryl knocked on his office door.

  “Chris, can I come in?”

  “Absolutely, Daryl. Come in, sit down. But… before you begin, I need to ask you a question.”

  Daryl sat in the chair in Chris’s office.

  “Shoot.”

  “Right, so, how many original programs does Garden Alpha have on its service?”

  “I’d say, roughly three hundred.”

  “And how many programs are in production at any given time?”

  “Probably about fifteen to twenty.”

  “I see. And, tell me Daryl. Why is it whenever I see you, it’s always about one program in particur?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Mmmhmm. So, what did you want to see me about today?”

  Daryl frowned.

  “Chris…”

  “Mmm?” Roen raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

  “Christopher…”

  “Hmm?” Roen tilted his head and leaned forward.

  Daryl sighed, exasperated.

  Roen simply steepled his fingers together, smiling like a cat who cornered a mouse and was enjoying watching it squirm.

  “It’s about ‘Woman Up!’, isn’t it?” Roen asked.

  “Of course it is,” admitted Daryl.

  “Right. I expected as much. So, go ahead. What is it this time? Another contestant went rogue? Another death threat?”

  Daryl frowned, and handed Roen a print-out.

  “I need your help. I got this email today. It comes all the way from the top.”

  Roen looked over it, reading both pages. He re-read it to make sure he understood it correctly, frowning the whole while. At the end, Roen put the paper down, took off his gsses, and rubbed his temples.

  “This is why I don’t joke much. I can never tell when the timing is good.”

  ***

  “Jamie, Sam,” said Daryl. “Thank you for coming in on short notice.

  Jamie and Sam looked around the conference table. Daria was there too, but not Chandra. And Christopher Roen off to the side.

  Immediately, Jamie noticed something was wrong, when Roen, unfppable Christopher Roen, Esq., couldn’t meet her gaze.

  “You should… sit down,” said Daryl.

  Sam shot Daria a puzzling look, and Daria shrugged. Whatever this was about, Daria didn’t know either.

  “I have some… bad news,” said Daryl. “And I wanted the three of you to hear it, coming from me. Garden Alpha has decided that it will not distribute ‘Woman Up!’ or its docuseries spin-off.”

  Stunned silence.

  “What?” said Daria, softly.

  “This was not my decision. I fought against this decision. But Biff Mezos made the call personally. He’s decided that in light of recent events–”

  “You mean the election,” said Jamie.

  “Yes, Jamie. In light of the election, Garden Alpha is not going to add any new programming that… hold on here, I’ll just read you what I got.”

  Daryl made sure to read the direct quote from the printed-out email in front of him.

  “Until new regutory guidelines have been established, it is best to suspend production or distribution on any Garden Alpha original productions that could be seen as – and here, the memo puts it in quotes – ‘promoting transgender ideology’ – end quote – in light of the fact that policies recommended in the Agenda 180 document are likely to soon become federal w.”

  More stunned silence.

  “This is… this is unbelievable,” said Jamie.

  “It is,” said Daryl. “And it’s not just Garden Alpha. We’ve heard word that Disney is going to cut a major trans storyline from its new animated series, ‘Win or Lose’. This is in addition to the changes they made to ‘Inside Out 2’ that removed any hint that the main character might be a lesbian. Right now, the trend in Hollywood is that supporting LGBTQ rights and telling queer stories isn’t profitable anymore.”

  Daria held back tears. “You’re being stupid. This company is being stupid. You’re complying in advance. That’s like… the one thing that you’re not supposed to do when fascists take over. ‘Never comply in advance.’”

  “I know,” said Daryl.

  Sam narrowed her eyes at Christopher.

  “Did you recommend this? Was it you, Christopher?”

  Roen smmed his fist off the table.

  “Dammit, No!”

  Roen closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Daria’s right. You don’t comply in advance with ws that have yet to be written. And I helped Daryl write a memo to that effect back up the chain. We got an immediate response - the decision has already been made. This wasn’t a legal concern. This was a business decision. Before the election they thought that the controversy around transgender topics would make them money. Now they think the controversy around transgender topics would lose them money. It’s as simple, and as cruel as that. Doing the right thing is no longer profitable.”

  Jamie thought for a second.

  “You can’t do this,” she said, calmly, after a while.

  “It’s done,” said Daryl.

  “No, I mean, contractually you can’t do this. We have pay-or-py contracts. If you fail to distribute, there are contractual penalties, we made sure of–”

  Christopher sighed, and opened up his briefcase. Inside he slid a check with a rge number of zeroes, made out to Culver-Horowitz productions, across the table, to Sam and Jamie.

  “Garden has decided it’s going to accept the penalties. They’re treating it as a tax write-off,” expined Christopher.

  “Oh my god,” said Sam. “You’re giving us the ‘Batgirl’ treatment. You’re turning us into another ‘Coyote v. Acme.’”

  “Not quite,” said Christopher. “You retain the copyright on the production. You’re free to continue post-production on the series. You’re free to shop ‘Woman Up!’ and any other projects around to other distribution companies. But… yes, Garden Alpha will not be the distributor of record for it. I’m sorry. Deeply and truly.”

  Daria looked at Daryl.

  “No chance you’ve got a big ol’ check in that briefcase for me, is there?”

  Daryl shook his head.

  “I quit,” said Daria.

  “I know,” said Christopher. “So did Daryl and I.”

  ***

  “I’m telling you, Jamie,” said Sam. “You can’t let this get you down. They’re idiots in an incredibly stupid industry.”

  Jamie Howard, which was her real name, even if the paperwork still said ‘Horowitz’, leaned back on her patio furniture, drinking a strong stout beer, and moped in the chilly winter air, sitting next to Sam, holding her under a light bnket.

  It was hitting what the industry termed “blue hour” - that time when the sun was below the horizon, but the sky was still illuminated by indirect sunlight. It was when the sky took on a blue hue, and created a peaceful atmosphere.

  Sam Culver, her wife in all but name, cuddled up next to her.

  Southern California winter was deceptive, Sam thought. Wonderfully pleasant, a nice eighty degrees when the sun is out. But it quickly and abruptly drops dramatically to the low forties as soon as the sun sets, and by about four PM, it was getting quite chilly and dark.

  There was a metaphor in that, but Sam couldn’t quite find it. Instead, she focused on Jamie.

  “You have to change up the way you look at this, Jamie. We knew that the television industry was shitty. As for the election, well, Americans are… mostly good people, they just made a very terrible mistake.”

  Jamie hung her head, thinking about that, then shook it.

  “How good can people be if they can’t figure out good from evil even if evil stands up in front of the world and acts like a Saturday Morning Cartoon vilin.”

  “That he does,” admitted Sam. “That he does. Seriously. It’s not just dumb. It’s not just hateful. It’s cliche.”

  “Yeah, I mean, maybe I wouldn’t mind the horror of sliding into a dystopian fascist state if I felt there was at least some originality to the damn thing. God, I don’t even know if it’s safe here anymore, Sam. Maybe I’m a little oversensitive to it, being raised Jewish, but this really has the feel of ‘same shit, different century’, know what I mean?”

  “I’m just… sad that Garden Alpha doesn’t have our back. I don’t know why I’m surprised. They’re just another big corporation. Fair weather friends at the best of times. But still, after all you gave up for them. For the show. You came out in public. You filmed your transition. And for what? I know you didn’t do this for the money. I know you didn’t.”

  “Neither did you, Sam. I mean, maybe at the start, it was about getting your foot in the door of American television, but…”

  “They made you go on live television and tell the world your innermost demons, and all you got for it was a brick through the window.”

  “Yeah, and I think I was right to brush off the brick before, but I can’t help but think about it now. At the time, I thought it was just some idiot with too much free time and too much hatred. Just one moron. But now? Now I feel like tens of millions of bricks have been thrown at me.”

  Sam grabbed a bottle of water from the ice bucket they had brought out with them, and rubbed Jamie’s shoulders.

  “I know that’s irrational,” said Jamie. “But I don’t particurly care. A plurality of Americans made it clear - they want it to be governmental policy that people like me shouldn’t exist.”

  “Game show hosts?” joked Sam. But the joke fell ft.

  “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, Sam. And I love you, and you being here makes everything a little bit better. But I’m going to need a bit of time to get through this.”

  “Maybe I should call Sheri?” suggested Sam.

  Jamie thought about that.

  “We should, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. We should call Daria too. And Rafael, and Erin, and Eine and… god I want to check on all of them. I’ve only known I’m a trans woman for months. They’ve known this for years, and… I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t call them. Maybe we’d just bring each other down.”

  “What if we got them all together? Here. For dinner. You could cook something. You love cooking.”

  “I don’t know, Sam.”

  “If you ‘don’t know’, then I’m making an executive decision. We’ll invite everyone for dinner tomorrow night. What do Americans say, if you get kicked off, you need to get right back on the horse?””

  “I wasn’t kicked off a horse, Sam. There is no ‘we’ll get ‘em, next time.’”

  Sam didn’t know what to say to that, so she just held her de-facto wife’s hand.

  “Okay. There’s lots of times when you’ve pushed me to do things that you knew I’d regret not doing. Now it’s my turn. Jamie, you’re going to get up, you’re going to start calling your friends, and you’re going to invite them all to dinner this weekend and you’re going to cook for them. You can do this, and you need to do this.”

  “Sam?”

  “You need to do this. You’ve always been strong, Jamie, and I know why you’ve had to be strong. And over the past two months I’ve seen that strength evolve into bravery and confidence, since you don’t have to use that strength to fight yourself anymore. You were always kind, funny, and smart, but since you came out to yourself, it’s like your saturation knob has turned way up. Everything is just more vibrant. More dynamic and colorful. And now I see you and you’re muted and retreating back into grayscale.”

  “Well, that’s not good,” said Jamie. “Yeah, I… this… this hurt me.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  Sam looked Jamie in the eyes, and held Jamie’s face in her hand.

  “It hurt you, but it didn’t break you. Injuries heal. With time. I’ve heard food helps. This weekend, you’re pulling out all the stops. Tonight, I’m cooking for you. Spag bol. British tradition - we take an amazing foreign dish, take its beautiful name, ‘spaghetti bolognese’, turn it into something that sounds like the offshoot of a processing pnt, ‘spag bol’, and make sure to remove any spices or fvor.”

  “Bubbe used to make spaghetti bolognese for me when I was feeling down too. How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t. I just guessed,” said Sam. “I mean, c’mon. We know each other pretty well by now.”

  “We do, Sam, we do,” said Jamie.

  “And you don’t have to go through this alone,” said Sam.

  “You really miss Engnd, don’t you?” asked Jamie.

  “I do. Not the weather. The weather is miserable. And it has its problems. But… I just hate how America does business.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to come to that conclusion, too,” said Jamie.

  ***

  “For dinner, we have bacon-wrapped pesto pork tenderloin,” said Jamie.

  “It looks delicious,” said Eine. “Old family recipe?”

  “Well, my family is Jewish, so… no. I don’t observe, and while Bubbe and Zadie did, they never put pressure on me to do so. Nah, I was just thinking about the British style pigs-in-a-bnket, and thought, what’s the fancy, upscale version of that.”

  “Ah,” said Leonard. “Like beef Wellington is really just a fancy corn-dog.”

  “Exactly! So, how are you two holding up?”

  “We got a little depressed over the… you know, but then Leonard decided to cheer me up by taking me to my first BDSM munch.”

  “Eine!”

  “C’mon, Leonard, it’s Jamie, she knows already.”

  “But she doesn’t need to hear all the details,” said Leonard.

  “Unless they’re funny,” added Jamie. “If they’re funny, then do tell.”

  “We’ve got ‘scene names’ now!” Eine was clearly excited.

  “Scene names?”

  “Like, for the kink community. Codenames. I’m ‘Optimal’ and Leonard is ‘Strategy.’” Eine beamed.

  “Buh?”

  Suddenly the lightbulb clicked in Jamie’s head.

  “Oh. Suboptimal, and Dominant Strategy. I get it. Very clever.”

  Eine smiled at Leonard. “I told you people would get it.”

  Leonard rolled his eyes.

  Gooch and Julia were in the living room over by the door, sipping on beers. Gooch actually seemed to be having a good time - his depression, though not cured by any means, seemed to be a good deal more managed, and he seemed more like the Gooch of old. It was simply that the wrong hormones were hurting his ability to cope, and now that he was off of them, the old Gooch was returning.

  “So the main problem I’m having with YiffSpliffs is the possibility of staining; but you’re saying that there might be a way to use subsonics to prevent that?”

  “Maybe,” said Julia. “Like a sonic toothbrush, only more preventative? It would mean that you’d have an increased power draw, more than most vapes on the market.”

  “Well, we’re kinda a niche product. And it’s designed to be used with a mask, so maybe we could use a heavier battery? Not too heavy, but enough to draw just that little bit more power from?”

  Meanwhile in the living room, a few of the girls - Sam, Daria, Sheri, Erin, and Leonard’s mother, Marianne, were discussing the issues with dating in their thirties and forties.

  “So - we went on one date,” said Daria.

  “It was nice,” said Sheri. “But…”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Sheri is a great friend,” said Daria.

  “But there’s no spark there, you know? We’re just two different personalities,” expined Sheri.

  “Sexual attraction isn’t enough,” said Daria.

  “Wait. You were attracted to me sexually?” asked Sheri.

  “Duh. But as you said - compatibility isn’t there. You’re a very empathetic person. And I have difficulty with empathy. You prefer to work with people one-on-one, I look at the big picture. Normally I’d say opposites attract, but I can’t help but think that I’d run you ragged after a while.”

  “And I’d probably bore the hell out of you,” said Sheri.

  “It must be hard to date, being trans,” said Marianne.

  “Eh, yes and no,” shrugged Daria. “You can attract a bit of attention, but you have to make sure it’s the right kind of attention. Chasers suck.”

  “Indeed, they do suck,” said Sheri. “Sadly, we all tend to be a little touch starved compared to most women, so we have to constantly ask ourselves: is this person good for me, or are we just lonely?”

  “My mother thinks I should start a polycule,” said Daria, which caused Erin and Sam to choke on their drinks a little.

  “Are you alright?” asked Daria.

  “Yes, yes. I should go check on Julia,” said Erin.

  “And I, on Jamie,” said Sam.

  This left Marianne, Sheri, and Daria.

  “You know, my husband was very empathetic before he passed. That’s what attracted us to one another. I was always better at the case w, he was better at reading the witnesses and discerning motive, but we were just… *zoop* - in sync with each other.”

  “What made you decide to be a wyer?” asked Sheri.

  “I knew that people going through the justice system were at the lowest, scariest part of their lives. Even if they were guilty, I felt that the system was just stripped of humanity. I figured injecting a little bit of humanity into the system was the best way to do that.”

  “Hunh. That’s one of the reasons I got into therapy. To help people when they most needed help.”

  Daria decided that she would get a bit of fresh air on the patio, and leave Marianne and Sheri to get to know each other better. She was not the world’s most empathetic person, but even she knew when she was being a third wheel.

  She headed outside where Rafael, Bradley, Vic, and Kevin were talking.

  “Hey, mind if I join you? I think we met up briefly at the wrap party? Daria Bryant. I’m with Garden Alpha… or I was until a couple of days ago. Jamie and Sam brought me on board to be producer of the docuseries.”

  “Ah,” said Bradley. “You’re the new Sam.”

  “Pretty much. And of course, I’ve met Rafael a couple times. How is work on ‘Miss-Takes’ going?”

  “We did the segment on Oscar just before the… the… you know,” said Rafael. “Oh, I don’t know if you’ve met Kevin before. Kevin is Eine’s brother. He just came out. We were talking about names.”

  “Yeah, I’m wondering if I should stick with Kevin. It’s a little silly.”

  “Doesn’t sound silly. Why?”

  “It’s from Kevin Conroy, who pyed Batman? I always liked his voice. Wanted it to be like my own.”

  Kevin did his best pre-testosterone Batman impression.

  “I am vengeance. I am the night. I. am. BATMAN!”

  Kevin frowned. “See, I can’t… I can’t get the resonance right.”

  “You do know,” said Rafael, “that trans men don’t have to voice train nearly as much as trans women do. The testosterone does most of the magic.”

  “But it’s still a little stupid. Who names themselves after a cartoon voice actor?” said Kevin.

  “I don’t know. I named myself after a cartoon.”

  “You did?”

  “Daria Morgendorfer. Loved that show as a kid. Always wanted to be her. Literally,” said Daria. “So I kinda became her.”

  She smiled at Kevin.

  “I guess it’s not a stupid name, then.” said Kevin.

  “Have you met Gooch?” said Bradley.

  Jamie stepped out to the patio, and headed over to the group.

  “Soup’s on in a few minutes, we can get settled. But, actually, could I speak to Rafael and Kevin for a moment? I promise, it’ll be quick.”

  The rest of the group headed in, while Jamie, Rafael, and Kevin stayed behind. Jamie took out her phone and pyed a short video message.

  It was from Larry Zimmel.

  “Hello Rafael. And hello, Kevin, we’ve never met, but I met your sister once. Sorry I couldn’t be at the get-together in person, as you can imagine, we’re rather busy in the writer’s room at the moment. Still, Jamie told me that you were coming and he asked me and my props department to print something up for each of you. I’ve already signed it. You just have to finish the paperwork yourself. Best of luck out there, guys.”

  Jamie handed over an envelope to Rafael and Kevin. They opened it up. Inside was an ‘official’, pre-authorized ‘man card’.

  ***

  Back inside, Sam welcomed Pranav and Chandra to the gathering.

  “Sorry we’re te. We got stuck on the damn 405,” expined Pranav.

  “Gd you could make it, both of you,” said Sam. “How are you holding up?”

  Pranav waved his hand in a so-so gesture.

  “Truth is, I’ve been thinking about retiring early. Getting out of medicine entirely,” Pranav said, hanging up his fall-weather jacket.

  “Really?” asked Sam. She looked to Chandra, who nodded in confirmation, Pranav wasn’t joking.

  “I’m not saying I don’t still love being a surgeon. I love helping people. But that’s just it.” expined Pranav. “The medical profession’s going to be the canary in the coal mine. I’ve seen what’s happening to doctors in the red states, they’re literally putting people’s lives at risk because they fear criminal prosecution. No abortion, not even when the mothers’ lives are at risk, no gender affirming care, and who knows what else will be coming down the line.”

  “I mean, you don’t know what’s going to happen,” pleaded Sam. “It could all be just… bluster…”

  “True. And I’m not throwing in the towel yet. But I want to be ready and prepared if I’m given a Sophie’s Choice by the government to either do something unethical or surrender my medical licence, to surrender my medical licence.”

  “It’s that bad?” asked Sam.

  Pranav shrugged.

  “Hell if I know how bad it’s going to get, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

  “Well, the two of you came just in time. We’re about to have dinner.”

  ***

  After dinner, people retreated back into individual conversations. Jamie fired up the patio heater so that guests could mingle outside.

  “Ooh, I love those things,” came a voice from behind her. It was Marianne, Leonard’s mother. “Usually only see them at restaurants though.”

  “Yeah, I picked one up just for the party. Surprisingly I didn’t do much entertaining before I came out. I kinda look back on myself… and it’s like night and day, who I was, and who I am. So, I’m sorry we haven’t really met yet. Jamie Howard.”

  Jamie extended her hand for a handshake.

  “Marianne Harrison. Leonard’s mom. Though we met once before.”

  “We have?”

  “I was a contestant on Shark Attack. Back then I was using my maiden name. Do you by any chance remember a ‘Mary Silva?’”

  Jamie’s eyes shot wide open.

  “Mary Silva! Yes, I think about you all the time! Oh my god, I can’t believe… can I hug you?”

  Maryanne was surprised. “Uh, sure?”

  Jamie leaped up to give Marianne that hug.

  “But I’m Marianne Harrison now. Dale and I decided not to change our names when we got married. But after he passed, I wanted to remember him, so I took his name posthumously. As for Mary to Maryanne, that’s just because Maryanne sounded more ‘professional’ in a courtroom.”

  “Lord knows I know what it’s like to change a name for a career,” said Jamie. “But yes, I remember what you told me on that stage, about how sometimes it’s worth it to take the risk because it’s better than always wondering. That it’s possible to py it safe and still lose.”

  “And it’s possible to still lose and come out alright.” said Marianne. “My life didn’t end because I didn’t have an extra thirty thousand dolrs in the bank. It was tough, sure. But somehow… we made it through.”

  “I’m very gd. Very happy to hear that,” said Jamie. “Wow, this is one hell of a coincidence.”

  “Not really. I think everyone in Los Angeles has been on one game show or another from time to time. Even if that’s just sitting in the audience on ‘The Price Is Right,’ or ‘Let’s Make A Deal.’ I didn’t think you’d even remember me.”

  “Marianne, whenever I’m about to do something risky, whenever I’m tempted to py it safe, I think about you. I don’t think I would have done… half the things I did since coming out if it wasn’t for you. I probably wouldn’t have agreed to be a pseudo-contestant on my own show. Probably wouldn’t have come out to the nation on Zimmel. And sometimes I’ve gambled and lost, but I’ve never regretted taking the risk.”

  Marianne blushed.

  “Of course, in the long run, I won a bigger prize than I could have imagined when I was on the stage. Eine is amazing. A great daughter-in-w-in-potentia. And I don’t know if that would have happened if it wasn’t for your show. Plus, Leonard’s going to get a big head start in life with the money you gave him.”

  “He earned it,” said Jamie. “He earned every penny of it.”

  “Fair enough. But you gave him the opportunity. And maybe without the pressure to pay off student loans immediately, he can finally follow his dreams of being more than just an open-mic stand-up comedian. Thank you. Thank you so much, Jamie.”

  Marianne went in for another hug.

  ***

  As Sam and Jamie were cleaning up after the party, Jamie did have to admit that seeing their friends - and long lost inspirations - did help them get out of the funk they were in. There was good in this world, and it helped to be reminded of that fact.

  “I’m surprised Christopher didn’t make it,” said Sam.

  “I talked with him on the phone,” said Jamie. “He said that he wasn’t much in the mood for celebrating, though he did want to talk to us tomorrow morning, if we were avaible for brunch.”

  “Absolutely,” said Sam.

  ***

  The next morning, Jamie and Sam met Roen at a small cafe near Santa Monica.

  “Again,” said Roen. “I am… deeply sorry about what happened.”

  “You know, it was a wonderful gesture,” said Jamie, “but you don’t have to resign on our account.”

  “I didn’t. I resigned on mine. Like Daria said. Garden Alpha is complying in advance. I don’t want to have anything to do with that. It’s not just morally repugnant. It’s cowardly. Let me ask you, Jamie, Sam, do I seem like the kind of wyer who would back down from a fight if I knew the cause was just?”

  “You certainly do not,” admitted Jamie.

  “I certainly would say you’re risk-averse, but once you choose a side, you stick with it till the end,” said Sam.

  “I suppose I am a bit risk-averse,” sighed Roen. “And that’s why I wanted to talk to the two of you.”

  “Oh?” asked Jamie.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen to trans people generally in this country. It’s not going to be fun, that’s for sure. But Jamie, I’ve been thinking about your situation.”

  “My situation?”

  “You’re not just a trans woman, Jamie. You’re a public figure. When you came out on Zimmel. When you said you were doing ‘Woman Up!’ because you wanted to show people what the transgender experience is like… you became a target. No. We made you a target. To promote a show that we’re not even going to fucking distribute.”

  “Yeah, not… not exactly the best situation. But looking back, I don’t think I would have done anything different.”

  “I bloody well would have!” said Sam. “But what I would have done was give up on day two, and continue to unsuccessfully shop ‘Sabotage’ around. I’m gd Jamie convinced me to take the risk, even if it didn’t work out.”

  “Right, well…” Roen thought about the best way to say what he was going to say next.

  “As I said, you’re a target. High profile. I don’t know if the Agenda 180 folks are serious about coming after trans people. But if they are, you’ll be first. Made an example of.”

  “Yeah,” said Jamie. “I’m a bit worried about that.”

  “Jamie, you should really consider… looking into relocating,” said Roen, his tone as somber as a funeral service.

  Jamie raised an eyebrow.

  “Relocating? What about that whole big speech about ‘complying in advance?’ You want me to turn tail and run?”

  “Yes, Jamie. I want you to run. Garden Alpha is a huge corporation, with an army of wyers, oodles of cash, and more than a couple of members of Congress in their pockets. That they’re ‘complying in advance’ when they’re in a position to fight? Sickens me.”

  Roen pointed his finger at Jamie to make his point.

  “But you, Jamie. You, are a game show host. They can come after you, and even if you end up vindicated, it’ll cost every penny you have. They’ll make the process the punishment even if they can’t, constitutionally, convict. And if they do cross the line into unconstitutional territory, nothing can protect you.”

  “What about the community? The… friends we’ve built. What about Sheri and Daria and Erin and…”

  “They’re not the face of this. Maybe Erin is a little, but it was Jamie Howard who was the biggest name attached to this project.”

  “But if we stick together we–” said Sam, but Roen cut her off.

  “Sam. Community is great. Community is important. Community is what keeps people together when all hope seems lost. And the LGBT+ popution has a great community here in California.”

  Roen paused for emphasis.

  “But the bad guys have tanks.”

  ***

  “I mean, we could give it a try,” said Sam, who had her head in Jamie’s p on the living room couch. “But it’s not exactly much better for trans women in the U.K. than it is here. In some ways, it’s worse.”

  “And if it’s worse, then maybe we’ll consider moving again. But you miss Engnd, and it’s as good a time as any for us to try it.”

  “You’re going to be okay with small budgets and audiences in the dozens?”

  “If you are.“

  “You’re not going to miss L.A.?”

  “I’m going to miss it terribly. But we’ll visit often, perhaps. If it’s safe.”

  “It’s cold,” said Sam.

  “I know.”

  “The weather is horrible.” said Sam.

  “I know.”

  “The food is nasty,” said Sam.

  “I’ll find a way to make do,” said Jamie. “I can cook for myself, you know.”

  “The snobs are snobbier, and the louts are loutier,” said Sam.

  “Duly noted.”

  “You won’t be a celebrity anymore. Not until you’ve paid your dues again and done the rounds. You’ll just be a non-celebrity again. Just pin ol’ Jamie Howard, trans woman, immigrant. No special treatment.”

  “That’s actually a plus,” said Jamie. “I do like the spotlight. But it might be nice to take a break from it. And I kind of miss having to pay my dues, earning my way up. Maybe I’ll try Leonard’s thing and become a stand-up.”

  “You don’t know anyone there,” said Sam.

  “I’d know you,” said Jamie. “And that’s more than enough to start.”

  “I still don’t know,” said Sam. “Are you sure you want to risk what you have here for an uncertain future?”

  Jamie grinned.

  “I’ve thought about it. I’m going to go for it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sam, we only have one life to live. We’re never going to be here again. I’m never going to py this game again. If… if I don’t go for it, if I don’t see if we can make it, even in a new, unfamiliar pce? I’m always going to kick myself for not seeing how far we could go together. I want to be with you, however uncertain the future may be.”

  “Really?”

  “Final answer,” said Jamie.

  “Then let’s py the game,” said Sam. “Together.”