Chapter 3

Sure enough, I went to grab some wine, a Merlot, from the liquor store, where I saw a very attractive young woman in the line, being given perhaps a bit too much grief by the clerk. I thought for a moment that she was, in fact, trying to use fake ID to get past the drinking age laws in our state, which as a peace officer, I was obligated to help enforce. I could have arrested her on the spot, since no sheriff is really off-duty, but I chose to look closer because a gut feeling told me that there was more to the story than met the eye.

“This here says that it belongs to a Francis Tagliatti, which is a man’s name, but your store membership here card says ‘Francesca.’ What’s going on here? Parents named both of you after the same relative? You certainly resemble him. Are you twins?” I asked in earnest, before the girl broke down crying.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetie. It’s just that I’m the sheriff. I have to look into these things. Underage drinking and phony IDs are serious matters in the eyes of the state and county. Adding the fact that you look a bit younger than him, though he’s apparently of age. Well, you get the idea,” I clarified, actually cradling her in my arms for a second before letting her go.

“Francis ... that was me. Past tense. I’m ... transgender. I just didn’t want to get outed in such a way, but I didn’t want to get arrested, either. Please, can’t you see that I’m really her, not him, but that this is my legal ID? It’s all part of the transition, sir. I’m on the hormones right now, in fact, and they’re making me more emotional than I used to be by far, not that I was that insensitive for a start,” Francesca clarified, her eyes growing like saucers.

“I ... see. Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble. It’s just part of my job to look out for fake IDs and underage drinkers. Officer... ,” the clerk stuttered, truly nervous now.

“Sheriff, and unless you have some other compelling reason, sell this young lady her tequila, okay? Her margaritas probably won’t be as popular if they’re virgin, I hazard a guess. Just do me a personal favor, ma’am, and drink responsibly. I kind of have to say that to all people that I know are leaving a store with booze in a motor vehicle,” I assured Francesca, winking as I actually paid for her drink, too, “The least I can do after accidentally outing you.”

Francesca beamed and gave me a very sweet, if somewhat chaste, kiss on the lips, “Sheriff, I don’t know what your marital status is, but anyone who is with you is lucky as hell. Right now, I don’t have much of a sex drive, thanks to HRT, but if I did ... and when I recover one, I might have to look you up as a personal booty call, regardless of your relationships. Emphasis on might. It assumes a few things, but the thought appeals to me, at least in theory.

“It’s not every day that a public official, especially in this state, sticks up for me like that. And, if you’ll pardon my saying so, sir, I think that you’re buff and your bulge looks nice and thick. So, yeah, I know that you weren’t looking for it or doing this just to get into my pants. Even so. Well, that goes for both of you, in fact. You were just doing your job, too, and you treated me as the woman that I am, even if you went about it in an exasperating and inconvenient manner.

“If either of you want to keep in contact, just in case, here’s my number. I can’t promise that you’ll get lucky, but at least we can have a date or hang out or something,” Francesca told us with kisses to both of us before she left us her number and left the store itself.

“Works for me. If nothing else, I’ve just made some new friends, and that’s hardly bad news,” I agreed as I shared my personal number with Francesca and the clerk, whose name was Harvey.

“You also gained a voter for the next election. My daughter is transgender, too, and you just showed me that you don’t think of her as a freak, but as a person. I don’t know much else about you, but I know that you’re a good man. I feel safer knowing that the county is in your hands,” a middle-aged woman told me, shaking my hand as I finally checked out my own wine.

“Well, ma’am, I just do my job. I don’t have time to treat people as anything but people. I’m a lawman and the law has no race, sex, or gender. Thank you for your support,” I smiled as I left to applause amid some scattered boos.