RANSVESTIA

Ruth was the key herself, to this whole mad business. It had been Sylvia who had called Ruth that first day, setting me up as having been to WOMB in drag. But had Sylvia really said it? Or had this been some- thing Ruth had fabricated from just a remark Sylvia had let slip?

What was it with Ruth?

She had helped me get the apartment. She had given me a weapon to use against the taunting Tom Purcell, that put Tom in his place, that made him lay off me for good.

And now, only today, she had agreeably sneaked me the key to the WOMB control-room.

Maybe I could find out the connection between Sylvia Stern and Ruth, once I was inside the station. It was obvious that Tom Purcell wasn't ever going to tell me anything. He too, had once tried to sneak into the WOMB control-room. Ruth had told me that, but only that much. But it had been enough to scare Tom into thinking I knew the whole bit.

I sat there thinking how Ruth always put off my constant questioning about Sylvia. Always something to the effect that Sylvia had sensed how tender I was about my high-pitched voice, and how she always went after new announcers that had been suckered into applying for a job at WOMB.

And that could be. Sylvia was smart. WOMB had its snooty reputation to uphold an all girl radio station. No men allowed. So any new disk jockey who came to Lewisburg would be a natural for Sylvia and her fe- lines to pounce on, get him mad, make him keep punching at WOMB. It was just the thing Sylvia wanted.

But I knew that Sylvia Stern didn't pull the DJ in skirts thing with every new DJ that hit Lewisburg.

That had been a treatment reserved just for me. But how did she hap- pen onto it? Had she merely issued a hit, just put out the bait? Then when I snapped, she had me?

Or did it all hinge on Ruth? Was more of it Ruth's doing than Sylvia's? Ruth was always putting me off, always avoiding answers. And I could never exactly lead into it without feeling like a sap.

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