Be Careful What You Wish For

by Shéa MacLeod

  Furious Rayanne paid the bill and stormed out. She knew she’d just gotten royally shafted, but what could she do? The mechanic had refused to budge and as Rayanne, she was unable to convince him that she knew enough about cars to know when she was being played. He clearly thought she was an idiot because she had boobs. His condescension was enough to make her see red.

  “Remember,” she reminded herself, “all these little inconveniences are worth being able to wear makeup and dresses and look pretty. It’s worth it.” But she couldn’t imagine how women didn’t go absolutely postal over the way men like that treated them. She’d only been a woman for a day and she swore the next man that treated her like a moron or a floozy was going to get a black eye. Or a squished set of balls. Maybe both.

  RAYANNE WINCED SELF-consciously at the clack, clack, clack of her heels against the marble floor. She’d never realized just how loud the lobby floor was. She was nervous about coming into work, worried people would wonder who she was. Or, worse, they’d realize that Rayanne and Ryan were one and the same.

  Still, she loved her new lime green kitten heels. They were adorable. She’d been lusting after them for weeks, but it wasn’t until Ryan became Rayanne that she could actually fit in them. They’d been one of her first purchases. Gone were Ryan’s big feet and thick, muscular calves and thighs. Instead she was enjoying the swish of her flirty little skirt against her smooth, womanly legs.

  “Hey, girl, what’s happenin’?”

  Rayanne blinked at the huge man behind the desk. Andre had been the front desk guard ever since Ryan had started working here. The man had always been professional, but suddenly he was downright friendly. He was also showing an appreciation for her cleavage, but at least he was subtle about it.

  “Um, hey.”

  “Heard you were sick yesterday. Hope you’re feeling better.” Andre handed her the clipboard to sign in.

  “Oh, yes, much better, thanks.”

  “We missed you at karaoke last night.”

  Rayanne paused, baffled. Karaoke? Last night? And why on earth was Andre acting like he knew her as Rayanne? “Next time.”

  “You bet.” Andre tucked the clipboard away. “Hey, don’t forget your ID. The boss’ll have a fit if you’re not wearing it.”

  Rayanne nodded before clacking away toward the elevator. With trembling fingers she dug into her purse and came out with an ID badge. Instead of a picture of Ryan, her new female face stared back at her. Beneath the picture was her name: Rayanne Roberts. Just like her driver’s license. Apparently when Branwen gave a girl her fondest wish, she made sure all bases were covered.

  Rayanne swallowed. Nerves were starting to take over. She had no idea what would happen once she stepped off that elevator and into the office. Obviously she, Rayanne, worked here now, but what about Ryan? Wouldn’t anyone wonder if he didn’t show up? Or had she taken his place and everyone just remembered Rayanne? In any case Rayanne clearly had a lot more of a social life. Ryan Roberts would never have gone out to karaoke. Not to mention he had all of zero friends at work. How on earth was she going to pretend she knew these people?

  The elevator door slid open.

  “Ray! You must be feeling better. Too bad you missed karaoke last night. Andre was a hoot.” A dark-haired girl with freckles sprinkled across her nose stepped in front of Rayanne.

  Rayanne froze. She did know this person. Probably the one person in the entire company she ever bothered to notice: Lily Prentiss.

  From the minute Rayanne had met Lily, back when Rayanne was Ryan, she’d had a god-awful crush on Lily. The kind of crush that had you doing stupid things like writing “Mr. Lily Prentiss” on your math Peechee and scrawling “I love Lily” in red lipstick on your bathroom mirror.

  “Really?” With no other choice but to play along, Rayanne fell into step with Lily. It was obvious they were friends of some kind. “What did he sing?”

  “We Are Family. He did all the parts. That man can falsetto like nobody’s business.” Lily’s laugh bubbled out, turning heads in her wake. She didn’t even notice.

  That was Lily. Spreading sunshine everywhere she went with no idea her effect on other people.

  They passed George Tucker, the office golden boy, sitting in his cubicle leering at at them. Rayanne shot George a glare. Everyone knew George had his eye on Lily. Fortunately Lily was oblivious.

  George just winked at Rayanne and gave her a slow sexy smile. Rayanne rolled her eyes and kept walking.

  Lily stopped at what had been Ryan’s desk and perched on the edge. Apparently it was Rayanne’s desk now so she quickly stowed her purse while Lily chatted about karaoke and who’d sung what and drunk what and flirted with whom.

  “By the way, how’s your cousin,” Lily asked.

  “My cousin?”

  “Yeah, you know, Ryan. It’s too bad he got transferred. Though, of course, I’m super glad you’re here, of course. I mean that was so awesome you were able to replace him.” She grinned at Rayanne.

  “Um, he’s...fine. Enjoying his new life.” It wasn’t a lie. Ryan was enjoying life as Rayanne. Rayanne who was obviously besties with Lily Prentiss. The gorgeous, adorable Lily Prentiss. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  “Oh, we weren’t,” Lily said. “I mean, we never hung out or anything. I wish.” Her smile was a little sad around the edges.

  Rayanne’s heart beat a little faster. “What do you mean?”

  Lily’s eyes darted around the room as if to make sure no one was listening. She leaned in a little closer and the scent of her plumeria shampoo made Rayanne feel a little breathless.

  “I know you’re his cousin and everything, but you have to promise not to say anything, okay?”

  Rayanne nodded, eager to hear whatever secret Lily had to tell.

  Lily’s smile was nostalgic, her gray eyes dreamy. “I had such a crush on Ryan.”

  “You did?” Rayanne didn’t know whether to jump for joy or faint on the spot. For three years Ryan had mooned over his co-worker but had never once had the courage to ask her out. After all, why would a woman like Lily be interested in a man who liked to dress as a woman?

  “Oh, yeah.” She frowned. “I thought for awhile he liked me, too, but he never asked me out. I know it’s the twenty-first century and all. I could have asked him, but I’m kind of old-fashioned like that.” She shrugged and hopped off the desk.

  “Maybe he did like you. Maybe he just had reasons he couldn’t ask you.”

  Lily laughed. “Like wearing women’s underwear?”

  Rayanne’s eyes widened in shock. “How did you know?”

  “Oh, please. I’m pretty sure everyone in the office knows, or at least suspects, that Ryan’s a cross-dresser. We don’t care. Plus I’ve seen him bending over trying to fix the copy machine enough times to know he doesn’t wear BVDs. Like I said, this is the twenty-first century. I’m not that old-fashioned.” She winked at Rayanne before sauntering off to her own desk.

  Rayanne sat there in complete shock. All this time and Lily had known Ryan’s secret. Even more, it hadn’t bothered her one bit that he wore women’s clothes. She would have said ’yes’ if he’d ever grown a pair enough to ask her out.

  And now it was too late. Ryan was Rayanne and Lily was as straight as they came.

  RAYANNE PUT THE ISSUE of Lily and Ryan firmly out of her mind as she ran her fingers over her new purchases. The lovely silks and satins of her new dresses made her feel positively giddy! She couldn’t wait to put one on and hit the town.

  She held one up in the mirror. Should she wear the blue? The pink? The red?

  Then the pain hit.

  It hit hard and fast, twisting like a knife low in her belly. No, not like a knife. Like a million knives. No, a hot poker. That was it. Someone had just thrust a white-hot poker into her gut and churned it around.

  She doubled over, holding her stomach. Tears pooled in her eyes before pouring down her face. She knew her mascara had to be ruined, but for on
ce she didn’t care. The pain was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Was she dying?

  Rayanne hurried to the bathroom, not sure if she needed to pee or throw up. Maybe both. The minute she pulled down her panties she nearly fainted.

  “Oh my god, is that blood? Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m gonna die.”

  Then a thought niggled its way into her panicking brain. She wasn’t going to die.

  “Holy mother of ... my first period!”

  Not something she’d ever dreamed she’d say, back when she was Ryan. And, frankly, she could have done without this part of being a woman. She doubled over as another stab of pain hit her.

  She had nothing to deal with an emergency like this. Nothing. She needed to get to a store, fast. But how to get there without making a mess?

  She jammed a wad of toilet paper into her panties, grabbed her purse, and scurried out the door. The trip to the local IGA grocery store passed in a haze of pain. How did women do this every month?

  Rayanne hurried to the feminine aisle and came to a dead stop. There were so many choices and she had no idea what to get. Another cramp hit, doubling her over.

  “Shit.”

  No time to waste. She grabbed one of everything, from painkillers to the world’s biggest maxi pads, and headed for the checkout. The girl behind the register gave Rayanne a sympathetic look.

  “Damn, girl, you got it bad.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Shoo,” the girl shook her head as she scanned in Rayanne’s purchases. “You better believe I do. Every month like clockwork. Have to take the day off and spend it on the couch doped up on Midol and a bottle of red wine. Works like a charm.” She waved the box marked Midol from Rayanne’s stash. “You want some wine, too? It’s on sale.”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got some at home.”

  Rayanne tuned out as the girl chattered away. She quickly paid for her purchases and shuffled back to the car. The pain was like a giant tidal wave of glass, sweeping through her gut and ripping her to shreds. She was very nearly almost totally absolutely positive she was going to die.

  Back home she ripped open one of her boxes and read the instructions. “I have to stick that WHERE?”

  The box of tampons went into the garbage. Old school it was.

  Damn. She shifted uncomfortably. It was like wearing a freaking diaper. But what was a girl to do? Either shove a wad of cotton up where the sun don’t shine or wear a diaper. This woman thing was not quite as much fun as she’d expected.

  Instead of a night on the town showing off her new body and her new dresses, Rayanne spent it (between hurried trips to the bathroom) curled up on the couch doped to the gills with painkillers and vino and feeling very much like a beached whale.

  By morning, she’d had enough.

  She shuffled across the hall and banged on Branwen’s door. No answer. She banged harder. Still no answer.

  “Branwen, god dammit, open up!”

  Between one blink and the next, Rayanne found herself standing on a grassy hillside overlooking a lovely, sandy beach. The morning sun was warm against her back, no doubt highlighting the rat’s nest that was her hair.

  The hillside was dotted with little park benches, everyone occupied. Around her, people glanced up from their picnics or newspapers to stare at the woman that had suddenly appeared in their midst.

  Rayanne tugged at her oversized sweatshirt, one that had been hers back when she was Ryan, uncomfortably aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fortunately no one was paying any attention to her. They were all focused on the rather ample woman lounging on a park bench near the top of the hill. She had her feet propped up on a cooler and she was munching on a very large, pink frosted cupcake.

  Branwen.

  “Welcome to Tenby.”

  Rayanne blinked. “Where?”

  Branwen rolled her eyes. “Tenby. In Wales. It’s been one of my favorite vacation spots since before the damn Romans mucked things up with their religious proselytizing. Fortunately,” she beamed at her fellow sunbathers, “they still remember me a bit ‘round these parts. Which is why I come here to get my batteries recharged. So to speak.”

  Rayanne wasn’t so sure they remembered the goddess Branwen so much as they were in complete awe of the woman currently downing cupcakes like a trucker downs steak. But she wasn’t about to burst Branwen’s bubble. “Um, Branwen, I want to thank you for giving me this ... gift.”

  Branwen lifted an eyebrow. “Told you. Wasn’t a gift.”

  “No. Good point,” Rayanne agreed as another stabbing pain hit her belly. “Perhaps you would consider taking it back?”

  “Taking it back?” The goddess appeared so outraged she actually dropped a chunk of cupcake on the grass. “Do you have any idea how much power it takes to grant a wish? Never mind taking it back!”

  Rayanne was pretty sure the incomprehensible words coming out of the other woman’s mouth were not repeatable in polite company. Fortunately they also sounded like they were in Welsh.

  “I’m sorry, Branwen, really. But this pain...” Rayanne doubled over, clutching at her stomach as another wave passed. “I really can’t bear it.”

  A sly look passed over Branwen’s face as she settled back on the bench, the wind off the sea gently playing with her golden ringlets. “Oh, you can’t, can you?”

  “Um, no?” Rayanne had a feeling she was treading on very thin ice.

  Branwen’s eyes narrowed. “We women suffer from this...malady, for a full week every single month. One day and you can’t bear it?” The last was practically a hiss.

  “Listen I’m sorry, I don’t know how you do this, but...”

  “Begone!”

  Branwen clapped her hands together and Rayanne found herself being flung backward through the air. As she tumbled to a stop in her living room, she finally realized the true power of the goddess. She was not just a cute, fluffy next-door-neighbor with a cupcake addiction. She was something to be feared.

  Rayanne curled up into a fetal ball. How on earth could she survive a week of this?

  BRANWEN CROSSED HER legs and fished another cupcake out of the pastry box. She let out a sigh as she bit into the moist, yummy goodness. Chocolate and raspberry. Did it get any better?

  The sun slid out from behind a cloud, turning the sea before her into a sparkling jewel. Ah, Tenby, how she’d missed it.

  Here, where people remembered her, she regained some vestiges of her old power. The tales they told of her were ridiculous, of course. Branwen marry an Irish king? As if. Die of a broken heart? What kind of pansy-ass loser died of a broken heart?

  She was the freaking goddess of love and beauty. At least they’d gotten that one right.

  She glanced down at her body. Humans were such idiots. Back in her day she would still be the goddess of love and beauty. Her large, curvy body would have been sought after, adored. Now?

  She shrugged. Each to their own. She just never understood the obsession of humans for whatever latest fad they considered attractive. Why couldn’t the mortals just enjoy what they’d been given?

  With a shake of her head she took another bite of cupcake. Nope, she’d never understand.

  Branwen eyed a couple sitting on a bench further down the hill below her. Young, passionate, in love. For now. Once upon a time she’d been powerful enough to make sure people didn’t just fall in love, but stayed in love. But when the humans stopped believing in her, she’d lost that power. Like most of the gods and goddesses these days, all she could do now was watch the world go by.

  And grant a few wishes.

  Granting wishes was easy. It was undoing them that was the problem. That took a very special sort of power. The kind of power that only came when someone really, truly believed. Not only in her, but in themselves.

  And Rayanne did not believe. Not yet.

  “Oh, but she will,” the goddess whispered. “Oh, yes, she will.”

  RAYANNE STARED AT HER paycheck in horror. “There has to be some mistake.�
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  Lily peered over her shoulder. “Nope, no mistake.”

  “But Ryan got paid nearly twice as much for the exact same job.”

  Lily gave her a look of disbelief. “Ryan has a penis.”

  Rayanne blinked. “Um, what?”

  “You’re a woman,” Lily explained patiently. “You should be used to this by now. I don’t care what they say, that whole equality thing is bullshit. It’s a well proven fact that men get paid more for doing the same job. Even if they’re less qualified.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Rayanne had never heard of such a thing before. Never even thought such a thing was possible. It was the twenty-first century for crying out loud.

  “You’re telling me.” Lily sashayed back to her own desk and began collecting her things. “But what can we do about it? The only people to complain to are men who like being paid more. And legal action is a joke.” She tucked a long lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Seriously, you never noticed this before?”

  “I’ve never been in a job where I had anything to compare it to.” Which was true. This was the first time she’d worked as a woman. And been paid as a woman. Frankly, it pissed her off. As if the PMS wasn’t enough of an insult, she was being underpaid, too.

  “Well, come on. I know a great place we can drown our sorrows. And fix those cramps.”

  Rayanne blushed. “You can tell?”

  Lily rolled her eyes as she tugged on her cute, hot-pink trench coat with big silver buttons. “Sweetie, you’ve been clutching your stomach all day. I think it’s time for something a little stronger than Midol, don’t you?”

  With a nod, Rayanne pulled on her own peacock-blue trench coat which looked amazing over her plum-colored wrap dress. One thing that didn’t disappoint about being a woman was the wardrobe. Well, except maybe the jeans. They’d been awfully snug when she tried them on last night. It had made Rayanne feel like a fat cow, so she flung them to the back of her closet. Definitely not a sentiment she’d ever had about jeans before.

  Rayanne followed Lily out of the office, mesmerized by the gentle sway of the other woman’s hips. Damn. Why hadn’t Ryan ever had the balls to say anything? To ask Lily out, or at least flirt with her a bit?