Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show


A/N: It's so exciting that people already reviewed Chapter 1! Hopefully this chapter lives up to their expectations (and any other reader's).

Also, I'd like to point out that Columbia/Laura's father is based on Edward Davis Wood Jr. (infamous director of B-pictures). That's the guy who wore women's underclothes while fighting in the second war and later went around hollywood dressed as 'Shirley'. The other characters aren't based on anyone real or fictional. Hopefully nobody's offended by all the crossdressing and stuff. I'm also sorry if this isn't truly historically accurate...


Despite the pronouns used and the feminine name, 'Vicky' was not female.

Vicky was a man my father's age. Though he still wore his wig, seeing his face up close meant I could tell that he was a he. Yet he wore a dress…

I was confused by this and unsure what to think. Or say.

Thankfully, I wasn't the one doing the talking. That was Papa's job.

He cleared his throat, since Vicky hadn't noticed him at that point. That odd man was too busy removing his stage makeup.

When he finally noticed us standing there he dropped the makeup remover and rushed over to where we stood (by the door). He first kissed Papa on the cheek and then kissed me on the cheek. Though the lipstick left an awful mark, I thought it rude to wipe it off.

"Hello Shirley, darling!" Vicky trilled.

That confused me even more. Who was 'Shirley'?

"Hello, Vicky," Papa replied solemnly.

Ah. That's who 'Shirley' was.

My father's actual name is Davis E. Trent. Though I realized that he probably didn't go by that name while dressed as a woman. Especially because Davis E. Trent is well-known police officer in that area…

"Is this about the tip-off? They aren't supposed to arrive until about three-thirty. So I haven't yet told-"

Suddenly, Papa looked very worried. "What time is it?"

"Um, almost half-past three," said the young man who'd shown us to the dressing room, looking at his watch.

"Shit."

"That wasn't a very ladylike word, Shirley!" Vicky scolded.

Then, I giggled. Hearing my father addressed as 'Shirley', like everything else that happened that evening, was strangely funny. Nobody else seemed to understand what was funny. My father was clearly panicking.

"The police are going to be here any minute. Either go warn-"

Then we heard it. Shouting. Breaking of glass. The police were there right then, apparently.

"Oh dear," the young man muttered.

Vicky turned to him. "Oliver! We need to get out of here now. My clients will never forgive me for this… let's hurry!"

"Yes, ma'am," Oliver replied solemnly.

Then, we all followed him to through the backstage. The police hadn't gotten to that area yet. Soon enough we quietly exited through a door and got in the car. Momentarily, I was afraid that the policemen might notice us drive away. Oliver managed to drive through a couple of smaller side-streets that weren't really . Though. We soon left the town behind.

"Why can't you reason with them or something?" I asked Papa, once we'd been driving for a while.

"Who?"

"The police. You do work for them."

"I did work for them - today I resigned. Though it might be hard for you to understand, I was living a double life. By day I was a perfectly normal man who worked as a police. By night I was my real self: a heterosexual crossdresser and proud of it! Now that I've left that first life behind, I can be who I really am all the time."

"This was planned, then," I replied. It wasn't a question.

Papa took a deep breath. "Yes. Yesterday I found out that they – the police – knew about Vicky's cabaret and planned to raid it. Then, earlier this evening, I warned her about the upcoming raid. That meant she owed me a favor of some kind – presumably help finding a place to live. After she agreed to that I went home.

"I already knew how your mother would react to all of this. So I decided to tell her one night what working late' really meant. As predicted, she was furious. That meant she wouldn't follow me after. They I went back to the cabaret that Vicky owns to make sure she'd go along with everything. If she'd made everyone evacuate on time, the police would've thought it was a mistake and left. Of course, that didn't happen."

We all sat there in silence for a moment. Oliver kept driving into the darkness of the countryside. Unable to help myself, I stared at my father's peculiar clothes. He wore one of Ma's everyday dresses. After a moment I realized that, if I hadn't known who he was, I would've mistaken him for an actual woman.

"Can I still call you Papa? Even when you're dressed as Shirley?" I asked nervously, after a while.

"Of course," he replied kindly.

"Speaking of which, you can call me Auntie Vicky. " Vicky added. "And Oliver you can call… Oliver."

"Indeed," Oliver agreed.

I wanted to ask more questions, but I was too tired to say much. Quite quickly, Vicky noticed this. He smiled a motherly smile at me.

"You can sleep now, dear. I think you need it after all that's happened. We'll wake you up when we next stop."

It felt sort of odd… being in a car in the middle of the night with my father's 'real self', a man dressed in over-the-top female formal attire, and a very solemn young man who apparently worked for the latter. I probably should've panicked. Yet, somehow, I felt safer than I'd ever felt.

So I allowed myself to fall asleep.


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