Anthony looked over and saw the door open to the bar, but really didn't pay much attention past that.  He had been there since it opened, and was planning on being there a good chunk of the day.  He had been laid off and was looking to drown his sorrows.  Yeah, this wasn't the world's best idea, he should be looking for a job, but fuck it.  He figured he needed something like this.

Anthony was tall and fit, just shy of thirty with a short brown hair and  a closely shaved goatee.  He was still dressed in his work clothes, being laid off literally as he walked into work that.  At least didn't try to pull this bullshit at the end of it, he thought.  Especially when they knew what they were going to do.  He hated that corporate weasel shit.

He got the bartender's attention, a tall, lean Greek named Alexios and ordered another drink.  It was his third drink in the last hour and he decided to mix it up, having some rum instead of his tall glasses of beer.  Alexios smiled at him and poured him a double.

"On the house, Anthony."  He said, his accent immediately obvious.  Anthony smiled at that.  He thought that accent was pretty cool sounding.  He took a sip of his rum and was about to ask Alexios something when Alexios looked up.

This place wasn't very big, and it had no waiters or waitresses.  You wanted a drink, your ass goes up to the bar.  So, when Alexios made a scotch and soda and took the drink over to a booth on the far wall, Anthony was actually a bit surprised.

"I thought you didn't deliver."  Anthony said.

"I don't."  Alexios pointed out, then showed the him the five.  "You tip five per drink, I reconsider."

"Five per drink?"  Anthony asked.  "Who the hell does that here?"

It was a pretty valid question, and both knew it.  While this place wasn't a dive bar by any stretch of the imagination, it certainly wasn't high-end either.

"Someone who doesn't want to go to the bar."  Alexios said.  "They prefer to be by themselves."

"It's called a liquor store."  Anthony said, taking another sip of his drink.  "Then they can be by themselves all at home and no one to bother them."

"Some people are, uh, less inclined to drink at home.  There are reasons, I imagine.  I don't know them."

"So, who is it back there?"  Anthony asked.

"I don't know the name.  They are here to drink quietly.  What do you care?"

"Just wondering, since you don't deliver normally."

"We just discussed that, Anthony.  You know the answer.  You want to pay five per drink?"

"No, not particularly."

"Well then."  He said, walking over to another customer who ordered.  Anthony knew that Alexios wasn't being dodgy.  Money was money after all and any other day he'd have thought nothing of it.  It's just today, he knew that he was looking for a reason, any reason to take his mind off of the events earlier in the day.

He knew, though, that asking any more was fruitless.  So, he just shrugged, went on his phone to look for jobs as he finished his drink.

The bar was starting to get a bit more business, but it certainly wasn't full.  Another bartender, a short, tattooed woman a little younger than him that went by Trudy (he knew it wasn't her real name, every regular did) came in just as he finished his rum.  Before he could get Trudy's or Alexios' attention, he saw Trudy start to make a scotch and soda.  She then walked past Anthony and told him she'd grab his drink next.  She then walked over to the same boot, and Anthony could see a slender, feminine arm with soft, manicured hands reach and take the drink from Trudy's hand.  It was almost an elegant motion, and then that same hand reappeared with money.  Trudy put her tip in her pocket and the the actual money for the drink in her apron pocket.  She rang it up on the register, depositing the money and then walked over to Anthony.

"Another rum?"  She asked.

"Just a draft beer.  What's that dark brown one, I can't..."

"I got you."  She said and poured him a pint of it.  She smiled and handed it to Anthony, who had a tab opened already.

"So, who's the mystery girl?"  Anthony asked.

"Just a customer like you."  Trudy said.  "I don't know the name."

"Just, it's interesting..."

"Anthony," she said.  "the tips are good enough for us to make an exception to our rule and the person doesn't bother anyone.  That is literally all I care.  Why do you?  What are you, bored?"

"Hey, I just got laid off today!"

"Hey, don't, I didn't know!  I am sorry about that."  She said, meaning it.

"Thanks, and, uh, sorry I raised my voice."

"I get it, that's hard, I've been in your boat.  But, you know, that doesn't explain your interest in that customer."

"No, I guess not.  Maybe I am just bored.  Just you guys are all really strict with those rules normally."

"Normally, yeah, but when someone tips really well, is polite, doesn't argue, doesn't bitch, and causes no problems with the other customers, yeah, we might just make an exception.  Anyway, Anthony, I got other customers."

"Sorry, Trudy.  And, you're right."

Anthony drank his beer and, despite being a bit drunk, was still looking at jobs on his phone.  Ten minutes or so later, he finished the beer, paid up with Trudy, and had largely forgotten the previous conversations.

He got up, and realized that ordering a rideshare or a cab was likely a prudent call.  He'd pick his car up tomorrow morning.  He started to go to the door, then started to move to the far wall, mostly because there were some tables near a window and that would be a good place to look out for his rideshare.

No one was at those tables.  No one ever was.  He wondered sometimes if people got allergic to sunlight once they enter a bar.  Everyone, him included seemed to turn into a vampire.  So, he sat at a chair and soon he saw someone would be to pick him up in about thirty minutes.  That was fine.  It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.  He thought about ordering another drink, but didn't feel like going back up to the bar.

He then realized, at that thought, where he was and that he was right across from the mystery customer.  By this point, the curiosity was mostly gone, but, since he was right here, he might as well see what she looked like.  I mean, all he had to do was just look up and turn his head.

He did opt to be a little more subtle than that, and acted like he was still looking something up on his phone, but shifted as if to get better light, and glanced up quickly.

He nearly dropped his phone.  He was drunk, but he wasn't THIS drunk.

He had to have mixed something up.  Maybe the light was messing with him.  Maybe he was actually this drunk.  Maybe it was some weird brain glitch, neuron firing when it shouldn't and him imagining something.

He wondered if his reaction got him noticed.

"Sir, why don't you come over here?"  A voice said, coming from the booth.  He was noticed.

"I know you saw me.  Come on over."

Anthony got up, not knowing what else to do, got up and walked to the booth.

He was looking down where he walked, partially to avoid staring, partially because he wanted to be sure his footing was fine.  He rarely drank like this and didn't want to risk slipping on a spilled drink or anything.

As he got to the booth, the person came into view.  He saw obviously expensive gray heeled boots that hit below the knee and then slender legs wearing black tights.  A black dress that was obviously designed to fit a slender woman with ample breasts came into view next.  From there, Anthony had to sit and looked up as he sat down.  He saw the manicured, feminine hands with youthful skin and then saw the front of the dress, with the cut of the dress just above the the breasts.  He then looked up, past medical stitches right where the shoulder meets the neck, and sat the neck, head, and face of a fifty-something man.  He had a short military cut and was clean-shaven.

"So," the man (was it a man?) said.  "You noticed."

"Kind of hard not to."  Anthony admitted.  He would have tried to be more diplomatic or discreet, but what the hell was he supposed to say that?  "It's not like you're not in public or anything."

"Okay, I'll give you that."  The man (Anthony was going with man for now) said.  "But, you'd be surprised.  Especially in a place where people largely do just want to drink.  This isn't a rowdy place."

"Yeah, but, I, come on!  Did you think you were hidden?"

"No!"  The man said, taking a sip of his scotch and soda.  "And, I knew someone would have your reaction.  I was just surprised it didn't happen earlier.  I'm here two or three times a week for the last three weeks, and you're the first to say anything.  Congrats.  I think I owe you a drink.  What's your poison?"

"I've had enough.  I was just getting a rideshare a moment ago.  I'm good."

"Well, next time, maybe.  Oh, and before you're wondering, the bartenders, they don't count on the noticing thing.  Obviously they saw how I look."

"And they didn't..."

"Someone has never worked with customers before."  The man said with a laugh.  "Anyway, I'm Bruce."

"Anthony.  Bruce?  So, uh, well, you know what, fuck it, I'll just ask.  What exactly..."

"If I said crossdressing, would you believe me?"  Bruce said, almost with a laugh.

"No.  And, that would not explain those stitches.  I've seen enough real ones."

"Yeah, good eye.  A week ago, somewhere else, I managed to convince someone that all this was just some movie make-up special effects.  But, no, it's not.  Short answer, head transplant.  By the way, if you have to sign a huge amount of waivers, don't agree to whatever you were planning on agreeing to.  They wanted healthy people from twenty to sixty.  They did point out that compatibility guided their decisions, and only compatibility.  I needed the money and they told myself that can't be the only factor.  It was, by the way.  Literally the only one."

"So, what, you're a woman now?"

"Yes, Anthony."  The man said a little sarcastically.  "I did just explain all that."

"Well, that something you don't exactly see everyday!"  Anthony pointed out, raising his voice a little.  Not a lot, just enough to be noticed.

"How do you think I feel?  You're just looking at it.  I'm living it."

At that, Anthony stopped.  He hadn't considered that.

"Look, I'm sorry there.  I am a bit drunk and I just got laid off.  Cut me a little slack as well."

"Fair on that."  Bruce admitted.  "That, actually, was what made me go to that research hospital in the first place.  What do you do?"

I'm a machinist."  Anthony said.  Anthony then listed a few machines he was proficient with.

"Oh hell, you'll be fine."  Bruce said.  "Of course, if you want extra cash."

"Oh hell no."  Anthony said.  Bruce laughed.

"I had to.  If I can't laugh about it, what can I do?  And, it's not bad, honestly.  Weirdly, I like the clothes, who would have thought that, huh?  I even made my ex-wife jealous with how my ass looks!"

"Well, good for you on that."  Anthony said, meaning it.  "I guess this is where I ask what now for you?  You already know what I'm going to do, and it ain't that damn hospital."

"Never really thought you'd do that.  Just a joke there.  Me, my ex-wife offered me a job doing accounting stuff for her.  I think she feels a little guilty about me going to that research hospital for money.  Not sure why.  Wasn't her fault."

"Well, hopefully, good luck with that."  Anthony said.

"Here," Bruce said, getting up.  "I think that's your ride."

"Pretty early."

"Who else double parks in front of a bar?"

"Yeah."  Anthony said, getting up and both of them walking out the door.

"You need a ride?"  Anthony asked.

"My daughter is picking me up.  In fact," a red sedan drove past.  "That's her.  Take care."

Anthony got into the rideshare and shut the door.  He watched as Bruce walked away, finding himself eyeballing those legs and ass.

"Was tha..." the woman driving the rideshare.

"Yes."  Anthony said.  "Yes."