3. RJ Merritt

Chapter three

RJ Merritt

S tanding in front of Mode Fantasie , the fashion design house where I am the newest intern, makes me feel like I am Emily in Paris . Except I'm RJ in Boston, and not living in a romantic comedy.

My first day is tomorrow, but I am happy to get out of the tiny room I'm renting and decide to come see the place so I don't get lost or held up in the morning. The downtown Boston high rise with its glass exterior and a world of possibility ten stories up has me trying to savor every second after completing my paperwork and getting a badge to start working there. Now I can show up ready to work at eight instead of doing all the new hire stuff and being late.

A week after my sister Jayla flew out to help me move in, and I let her drag me around to a bunch of the historic sights, I am more than ready to get started on my career.

A degree in fashion design from the Academy of Art in San Francisco, books of sketches, and a paid internship with Ana?s Roux isn't anything to shake my head at…But I'm still nervous.

My sister flew home yesterday, and I'm in a new city. Distraction is what I need. San Francisco had so many great communities, from the arts to queer and kink spaces, but I didn't get to explore those much.

All because of fucking Kyle .

My ex came across as charming and knowledgeable when he first asked me out when I started as a freshman, five years my senior. I identified as non-binary then, and hadn't had top-surgery yet. My fashion sense was femme, and he could still call himself straight dating me. I was too young and na?ve to question him.

Being queer and kinky felt as inherent to me as my transness. But I also never felt monogamous. Even in high school I had crushes while dating. Once I had the words to label these feelings, I wasn't confused.

Transgender. Demisexual. Submissive.

Kyle used my na?veté and need to serve to keep me insulated from seeing his true colors.

He didn't mind my using testosterone gel, because he liked to use it as well. I asked if I could play with others when he hadn't been interested in weeks, and he said I was a bad sub. I asked to go to X Club in the city, and he said it was full of gays and predators. Instead he took me to a seedy place where people followed us around and asked to sleep with me. He let others fuck me, which was novel and I enjoyed being fucked three different ways at once, but then he made me feel guilty after.

My sister and mom visited and he would put the charm on. Until my graduation party.

My mom wanted to host it at home in Sacramento, but Kyle insisted that we host it at the place he and I shared in the city. Jayla and Mom went downstairs to grab something from their car and Kyle started complaining about my looking too masculine and embarrassing him in front of his friends. Jayla walked in to find him grabbing me by the upper arms and shaking me, whisper-yelling in my face with spit frothing at his mouth.

"You stupid girl–"

"Back off, Kyle , or you'll regret it." Jayla pushed Kyle away, her voice dripping with disdain on his name. Mom appeared to find Kyle in my sister's face as Jayla spit out what was going on as I stood there, frozen in place.

They packed me up right then and there while Kyle tried apologizing and gaslighting us. They finally saw him for what he was. Having my family see his behavior and his misgendering me, the truth of how he'd been getting worse for years hit me.

My summer was spent interviewing for internships on Zoom and blocking his attempts to contact me. There was a good offer in San Francisco but I didn't want to be near him, and Kyle kept me so isolated I didn't have a community there for support. An LA design firm offered me an unpaid position, but only Fantasie Mode said they would cover relocation costs.

Mom didn't want me going so far away, but more distance between me and my bad relationship is for the better.

Three months of holistic healing from Jayla and Mom's coddling, and I feel ready to focus on my career. Catching a bus towards my third-floor walk-up, I pull up the app where I recently created a new profile. I list my name as RJ in my about, but not as my username—I picked the generic boy2000 —and there are no pictures, so I have to hope I'm unsearchable for Kyle and his friends who harassed me before I deleted my old profile.

RSVPing to a munch called Pancakes and Pronouns, where they emphasize welcoming trans and queer kinksters, is my first step toward trying kink again. The trip isn't too long from downtown to some place called Randy's Diner in the South End, and I decide to fill the time by researching the others attending.

The leader is someone called CinKitten , a non-binary switch with many pictures but none of their face. They are partners with GayDaddy , who also has no face pictures, but she's listed as TransFemme. They intrigue me, with Cin being a sassy sadist and Gay a strict but nurturing Daddy. Two types of tops I want to try in a neat little package.

A couple already has each other, right? I don't have to worry about them falling for me and becoming obsessive. Even if it takes months to meet someone I'm comfortable playing with, I'm excited to have new people to discuss my kinks with.

The bus stops and I see the diner from the end of the block, with its bright colors and neon lights visible even in the evening light. I make it to the window, and see a group on the far side, and wonder at who is who from the list of attendees.

There's at least a dozen people seated in booths and tables all facing one another, but my eyes catch on an androgynous person in a white collared shirt next to a shorter person in a ruffled black blouse. They both have charisma I can feel across the distance, and my eyes catch on the smaller one's throat as they throw their head back on a laugh.

A shadow looms over me, and I forget for a moment that Kyle isn't taller than me. My first reaction is to bend into myself, waiting for the verbal blows to come.

"This place any good?"

Turning, I find a random guy with tan skin and a full beard. Not Kyle, who is pale and can't grow a beard to save his life, but my heart is racing. I swallow hard and clear my throat against my sudden panic.

"Don't know," is all I can get out before I dart back toward the bus stop and cross the street. I'm blocks away before I sit at another bus stop to catch my breath and check if it routes to my new place.

Coming across the country has given me a false sense of security, and I've never been a fan of large groups of new people.

Work will be a whole other thing, since they are people I have to get along with every day, and I know what to expect with a bunch of fashion types. But why do I think I am outgoing enough to show up and talk to a bunch of strangers?

In high school I got by as a quiet kid with a small group of friends, though I did get teased for being a boyish black girl while the rest of my peers were getting braids and manicures. My family loves and accepts me as a trans man, and has since I came out at fourteen. Their support is the most important thing.

Over three years with my ex has me afraid of my own shadow, and cis men in general. Guess I'm not as over my fucked up ex as I thought. I needed to work on myself and my career. Forget about him.

Fucking Kyle .