The Pulitzer

Greg took me to the homecoming dance. He danced better than Randall, too. That was where we shared our first real kiss.

"Listen, Greg. I need to tell you something. There is something about me you need to know."

"You're transgender. I know already. Randall told me when he asked me to watch over you since he wasn't coming home after basic."

"That asshole." I laughed. "How often do you guys talk, anyway?"

"Once a month, maybe when he can make time. He's afraid to call you. You really got to him. He knows you can't be together, but he's never going to forget you."

"Me either." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So, you and me? How does that work?"

"I kind of like the way things are right now." He smiled at me and slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me into an amazing kiss.

"Me, too."

For Thanksgiving, I cooked way too much food. Jimmy and Scarlet were there, and Greg brought his mom. His dad had disappeared a few years ago. They didn't know where he was, and it sounded like they didn't care either.

Someone knocked on the door, and since Mike was up, he answered it. "Toni, it's for you."

I don't know why I did it, but I grabbed Greg's hand and made him come with me.

Randall looked taller. Maybe it we the uniform. He was wringing a light green beret in his hands. I didn't know what any of the little things on his chest meant, but the little parachute had RANGER over the top and I saw the RANGER patch on his left shoulder. He had made it, and he was here, and he wanted me to know.

"Go ahead." Greg let go of my hand.

I ran, maybe leapt or hopped into his arms. There was no kiss. He just held me as tight as he could while I cried all over his uniform. I was proud of him. I missed him. I was glad he was safe. All of it. Mostly, I was glad he was here.

"Are you hungry?" I sniffled and looked up at him. He was fighting tears, too.

"I could eat." He smiled and nodded.

"Ok, um." I sniffled again. "Let me go wash my face." I looked at Randall and then at Greg. Randall smiled. Greg stepped over to me and took my hand, leading me toward the stairs.

"Stay. Talk. I'll be alright. I just need a minute." I gave Greg a quick kiss and went up to fix my makeup.

When I came down, everyone was laughing at some story Randall was telling about how he almost shot his foot off the first day of rifle training.

"That's a sharpshooter pin, right?" Jimmy pointed out the square cross thing over Randall's pocket.

"Yeah. I got better." This wasn't the Randall I remembered. He had changed. So had I. I took Greg's hand in mine and just listened to the stories. Randall had found his home. He was where he belonged, and we'd all be a little safer because of it.

"Be careful." I was clinging onto Randall's hand as he tried to leave.

"They don't pay me to be careful, but they pay me to be smart about the chances I take. Someone very special to me taught me about taking chances. Sometimes it's a very good thing."

"It's just... I got your letter. I read it like a hundred times. I didn't know how to respond. We're both good at that, I guess. I understand what you did. Thank you. I won't waste it."

Randall leaned down and gave me the sweetest, simplest kiss. "It was nothing compared to what you gave to me." He kissed me one last time, got in his car, and was gone.

This time, my heart filled with warmth. I needed this closure. Randall probably did, too. Taking Greg's hand, I went back inside. "Who wants desert? I made pies."

Beverly, that was Greg's mom, decided she had eaten all she could and had watched more football than she wanted to. So, she said some quick goodbyes, and just left, leaving Greg on the couch next to me.

"You have a guest room or a couch or something, right?" Greg shrugged and looked at me.

"Or something." I looked at Mike and he started laughing. He knew his little sister was a slut. Hell, he turned me out, so what could he say?

Jimmy and Scarlet were the first to disappear, heading upstairs to the guest room. The last game ended, and I went to clean up any last-minute messes in my kitchen. I covered the remnants of a couple of pies and put some left-over turkey back in the fridge for probably the fourth time. It made me smile to think about how many times I had seen my mom and my grandmother do the same thing.

Mike was gone when I came back out into the living room. I went over to Greg and offered him my hand. "Come on, boyfriend. Let's go find some 'or something.'"

All he had to wear was his underwear, and I wasn't interested in being coy, so I stripped down to my panties and climbed into bed next to him. He was nervous when I started kissing him. "I, I've never..."

"That's ok. We don't have to do anything. Just let me take care of you." He moaned and closed his eyes when my hand found his raging erection.

We didn't fuck, but I took my time sucking eighteen plus years of sexual frustration out of Greg's cock. I kissed him again and nestled under his arm. I wrapped my arm across his chest and tangled my legs in his, kissing his cheek one last time, just before I drifted off to sleep.

Mother nature woke me up, and I carefully extricated myself from Greg's embrace. He had wrapped himself around me like he was trying to keep me from escaping. Rolling him gently onto his back, I slipped out of bed and went to take care of my business. He was so beautiful laying there. His tousled mop of curly blonde hair, that kind of crooked smile, he must have been dreaming something nice because it was there even in his sleep.

His body wasn't cut like Randall's, and he certainly didn't have what Mike had, but he was mine. Maybe if he worked out a little, but I liked him just as he was. My smart, funny nerd of a boyfriend.

"Mmmm Toni..." He moaned in his sleep. I smiled. My boyfriend was dreaming about me, and from the look of his leaking cock, it was an excellent dream. Absolutely, I pulled the covers back and looked. Why wouldn't I?

Digging my bottle of lube out of my bedside table, I did what any girlfriend would do. I slathered his cock with slick liquid and guided him inside me. Slowly rocking back and forth with little up and down movements, trying to get him to moan my name again.

"Mmmm, good morning." He smiled up at me, biting his lip and moving with me. "I didn't expect this."

"I can stop." Smiling back at him, I squeezed with my butt.

"Oh, fuck." I think that was the first time I'd ever heard him cuss. "No, please don't. This feels amazing."

"It does." I started riding him a little harder, leaning down and kissing his eager lips.

God bless him, he never had a chance. Maybe with more practice. He lasted three minutes. That was if I was being generous, but his orgasm shook the entire bed. His body froze and then trembled to his toes.

I just sat there milking everything I could from his slowly softening cock, trying to keep him inside me. When he slipped free, I laid down next to him again. "Good morning. I'm glad you liked it."

"Doesn't that hurt? Back there, I mean?"

"It did the first time, but now it feels wonderful." Of course, Greg would want to know how everything worked. I never in my life expected to have to explain to someone what went into being ready to do what he and I had just done, but the process fascinated him. I thought it was, frankly, gross, but so worth it.

What followed was both strange and kinky. He wanted to feel my prostate, so I let him, explaining exactly how sensitive it was. A lot of that explanation came as moans and sighs as he figured it out himself.

When I erupted all over my stomach, he looked like he had just won the science fair.

"You can fuck me now, please." It was my turn to bite my lip. "Use this." I handed him the lube and pulled my knees up to my shoulders.

He was into it as much intellectually as he was physically. I could see his mind working, trying to figure out what to do to make me feel better, probably to make himself feel better, too, but it worked both ways.

I locked my ankles behind his butt and writhed underneath him, moving with each thrust. We almost got there. Well, he got there, and I was on the brink when he came. Maybe next time he'd get me over the top. He lasted a lot longer than the first time. From a scientific analysis of the progression as determined by some abstract formula, he would be even better the next time.

He even fondled my little cock as we lay next to each other. Who knows, maybe one day he'd take it in his mouth and suck me off.

Greg wouldn't shower with me, which, based on what we'd just done, I found was an odd line to draw. But hey, he'd just lost his virginity to his girlfriend, and she had a cock, too. So, I cut him some slack.

I got him home just after lunch and spent the entire afternoon doing something I hadn't done in a long time, playing Call of Duty on an X Box, his X Box. I was horrible, but it was so much fun. Epic death after epic death, I died so many times. It was funny every time.

Beverly asked me to help her with dinner. Mostly, she wanted to talk to me about Greg. She was concerned I was using him as a rebound from Randall. I did my best to explain that I wasn't. I had taken my time letting our relationship grow from 'just friends' to what it had become, and that I genuinely liked him. In fact, it was my heart that was going to get broken when he went off to college. He had shown me the acceptance letter from MIT, and it was a long way from Phoenix to Boston.

Over Christmas break, Mike took us all; me, Greg, Jimmy and Scarlet, to Telluride to ski. It was a fierce competition whether me or Greg was worse, but we had a wonderful time. Who knew there were so many ways to fall down a mountain?

With some intense tutoring, Greg got better and better, lasting longer and longer. By the time we came home, he was driving me insane, making me scream his name. Fuck me, I had created a monster. Nobody complained about the noise. Jimmy and Scarlet were just as busy, and Mike seemed to take a strange satisfaction in how much I was enjoying myself. He had also found a few snow bunnies to keep him busy.

I worried that when Greg got to Boston, he might have a hard time transitioning to more traditional sex, but he was a smart guy and not afraid to learn new things. Well, since he met me, anyway.

March twelfth was an interesting day. It was a Tuesday. I had picked up a shift at Burger King and then gone to Greg's apartment, spending the night. For whatever reason, I couldn't sleep so I got on my computer and started looking at pictures again. I only had a dozen or so left. When I screamed, Greg and Beverly both rushed out to the kitchen to see what was wrong.

"I have to go." I closed my computer and went back to Greg's room to get dressed.

"Toni, it's four o'clock. What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry. I just have to go." I hugged Beverly and kissed Greg hard. "I'll see you at school." Stuffing my computer and school stuff in my backpack, I ran out the door.

Someone had put some stupid yellow tape across the front door. I tore it down and ran upstairs to my computer, not even noticing what a mess the entire house was. The picture was still up, and when I connected to the larger monitor and zoomed in, it was so clear.

There it was. That was why Scaletti was after me. Right in front of me, his angry sneer, the look of fear on the face of the man on his knees, and the muzzle flash from the pistol in Scaletti's hand. The spray of blood exploding out the back of the man's head almost made me throw up.

I had four pictures in quick succession, capturing both shots. It had been a freak accident, an incalculable miracle that I had caught what I had just seen. Taking a deep breath, I saved the enlargements to their own files and went to the Tribune website. I knew what I had to do. Story after story, they were tearing Scaletti apart. His business dealings, suspected ties to the mob, duh...

I did a quick search and got the name and email address of the reporter and started typing.

"My name is Angie Romano..." I told my story, attached the pictures, and hit send.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Angie Romano would have been nineteen today and there was no one to care, much less celebrate. I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.

I guess they did some kind of reverse search or something, because a strange woman's voice woke me up. "So, Angie Romano, or Toni Benet, which is it today?" She had a kind smile. I recognized her from the TV in the motel. She was Special Agent Crider, the FBI agent from Langley. "You did a brave thing, sending those pictures."

"He had my family killed and was after me. Was that the reporter?" She nodded.

"Wait, what are you doing here? Where's Mike?"

"About that. Mike is talking to some of my friends right now. He was involved in some interesting things. Him and his friend Jimmy. They're probably going away for a while, and you'll need someplace else to live. I think I can help you with that."

Of course, I didn't see Greg at school. I called him and promised to explain everything when I saw him again. It would be some time before I got the chance.

Agent Crider helped me pack a suitcase. I talked her into two, and I got to keep my computer and my phone. Everything else, even my Jeep, was Mike's, so they confiscated it.

Of course, the flash drive with all the original pictures, metadata, and timestamps was evidence, so I lost that, too.

I got to talk to Mike. He was ecstatic when I told him about the pictures. He and Jimmy had cut a deal and were disappearing. Something about setting them up with a used car dealership in Texas somewhere, or something. Scarlet was going with them.

I told Susan, Agent Crider, the complete story. Well, the parts she was interested in, anyway. Then I told it again, and again, and again to different people. That Mike and I had pulled it off so well impressed them, as much as it amazed them. They had been tracking Scaletti's efforts to find me. He wasn't even close.

I was going to have to testify, or Angie was, and that meant I needed protection until the trial. I had two options.

The first involved a flight to Sacramento. We went to a little Italian restaurant where I could hear two women arguing about the ingredients for the lasagna in the kitchen. The man behind the bar looked older than I remembered and sadder, too. An older version of the bartender was wandering around the dining room, making sure everyone was happy. I'd never seen my grandfather so alive.

They didn't recognize me, and I didn't say anything. I sat and watched as two FBI agents came in and talked to my dad. My mom ran to the bar to listen. I knew what they were being told. I saw the expressions on their faces when they saw the pictures I had taken.

One agent looked at Susan. She looked at me. I looked around the restaurant. As much as I loved my family, I wasn't their son anymore. I hadn't been for a long time; it felt like a lifetime. How would I explain Toni to them? It would crush my grandfather and he looked so happy.

"The lasagna is excellent today." He looked right at me. There was no recognition. "Your waitress will be with you in a minute."

"Thank you." I smiled at him. Looking at Susan, I shook my head no and went to the bathroom to cry for a while.

When I came out, the agents were gone. My mom and dad were hugging fiercely, and my dad looked ten years younger.

"They know you're alive, but in protection, and that you can't come back to live with them." I could see the tears welling behind Susan's eyes.

The lasagna was excellent. I used a touch more oregano in mine. I smiled and, for a moment, imagined myself in the kitchen arguing with my mom and my grandmother about just that.

"Thanks for coming." My dad waved at us from behind the bar.

"I like your restaurant. It reminds me of back home." I smiled and for a second, thought I saw a flash of recognition. Maybe he knew. I could imagine.

We got back on the plane. The FBI had nice planes. We didn't go back to Phoenix, or even Chicago. We landed in Virginia, where a black Tahoe picked us up and dropped us off at a brownstone in a quaint neighborhood.

"Plan B." Susan unlocked the door and let me go inside. "Your room is upstairs to the left. I'm starved. How about I order us a pizza?"

Susan was a lot stricter than Mike and I had to behave. I finished my junior year at Langley High School as Toni, and then my senior year. Susan set me up with a therapist, and that led to hormones, which helped the fat they had transferred into my chest a bit. My hips, too. Toni's grades were a lot better than Angie's had been. College wasn't an option; it was an expectation.

For one very long, very stressful day, Angie came back to life. Black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a suit that fit loose enough to hide what was underneath it, just enough 'old me' to testify. I had never seen Mr. Scaletti before, but I recognized Eric sitting behind him in the courtroom. He scared me more than his father did. I testified about how I took the pictures, and that I didn't even know I had them until just a few months ago. It was the articles in the Tribune that inspired me to look for them.

The pictures themselves and the metadata on the flash drive were all the evidence the prosecution needed. The defense attorney didn't even ask me questions.

"Yo, Little Angie. I'm coming for you. You know that, right?" Eric had followed me out into the hall. How stupid could he be? Three FBI agents and the bailiff just heard him threaten me.

"Yeah, good luck with that asshole." I shouted back. A bailiff tackled him in the hall before he got near me.

Down to the garage into a waiting Tahoe, one of three, all of which went in different directions when they pulled out onto the street. The one I was in stopped a few blocks over in another garage. I got out and climbed into Susan's Camaro. From there, it was the spa, where I got my blonde hair back, a massage, and bright pink nails. It felt so good to be me again.

The Tribune posted one last story on Scaletti. My pictures, all four of them, right below a massive headline, "Scaletti convicted! Murder 1."

That May, Columbia University awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Photography in Journalism to The Tribune and Angelo Romano. The FBI made sure I got the check.

It was gratifying, but it made me think about my family. Had I made the right choice? I had lost everything because of those pictures. My family - twice, my friends, my passion. Susan was a good person and took care of me, making sure I was safe. We were more like sisters than anything else, and I admitted, I had a good life, but at what cost?

Mike hadn't totally disappeared from my life, though. I got a strange email the day I graduated. All it said was, "Proud of you, little sister." There was a link. I clicked on it, and it took me to a banking website.

"Susan." I screamed.

Susan had her people investigate it. It was legit. He had squirreled away enough money in my name to pay for almost all my college, or in his eyes, to start over somewhere on my own. I'd probably still have to have a job, but I could go wherever I wanted, and Boston University had just invited me to come study photojournalism.

I didn't know if that was what I wanted to do, but I'd get to take pictures again. Who knows, maybe I could get a Digital Forensics certification and work for the FBI or something.

I spent the summer hanging out with some friends I had made at school, talking about where we were going to college and what we were going to do. Of course, most of them were girls, so we talked about boys. I mentioned Greg a lot.

Susan helped me get an apartment and move to Boston. I found the nearest Burger King, and they hired me on the spot.

Nobody was ever going to consider Burger King's uniforms as the pinnacle of fashion, but I liked to tell myself I rocked the look. With scholarships and what Mike had set aside for me, I really didn't have to work. I liked the distraction, and I got to flirt with a bunch of cute college guys all the time. I mean BU, Harvard, and MIT surrounded the store, so there were tons of options. They were all better than me, or so they thought, but it was fun to flirt, none the same.