Live for Love: Stories from the Sound, #5

By TM Smith

Beauregard Boudreaux is a native of New Orleans Louisiana, born and raised there, he never thought he would ever stray far from home. The untimely death of his first love left Beau lost, adrift, looking for a place as far away from the pain as possible. Initially, he came to New York to visit a friend, the city growing on him, so he decided to stay. His law degree comes in handy at the LGBT Center he runs, but his bar is his baby.

William Richards grew up in Chicago, his family oddly normal and very accepting of his sexuality. Modeling paid the bills, gigs across the country as a model, male entertainer and a personal trainer giving him the opportunity to see the world. He hasn't experienced loss or pain as Beau has, the common denominator between them is the loneliness. As All Cocks big, brooding bottom Connor, William has found friendship, family and an outlet for his craving to be more submissive than men of his size and stature usually are. 

The two men are perfect for each other, their tastes and lives align and the writing seems to be on the wall. But Beau has a secret he shares with a choice few, a secret that not only threatens to keep them apart, it's deadly. Determined to keep a wall between himself and William, Beau fights the attraction, pushes William away every time he steps closer. Can one man's determination and strength be enough to tear down a wall that holds back decades of pain and darkness? And if he can, will either of them survive the flood? 

Disclaimer: This book is the fictional story of a man living with HIV. I have put a lot of time and effort into presenting this story as true to fact as possible, without going into gory or gruesome detail. If this subject is a trigger for you, you may want to skip this read. But my hope is that you give Beau a chance to capture your heart as he has mine, and William's.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TM Smith
• Release date: Jun 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781534704978

Book preview

Prologue

The wind whipped through the trees, a light rain trailing on its heels. Tiny drops of water bounced off the coffin, the sound echoing in Beau’s ears more like the loud bang of a drum than the soft pitter, patter of the rain. There he stood, rooted in place, his long hair matting to his head as the rain and wind picked up. He could hear the soft whispers of sorrow and condolences surrounding him, everyone else in attendance tucked under the large tent behind him. An arm wrapped around his waist, briefly pulling Beau’s attention away from the casket that held his dead lover.

He looked down at Alma, Izaiah’s mother, managing a small smile. The large-brimmed black hat she wore shielded her face from the now-insistent rain. She leaned up as Beau bent, allowing her to kiss his cheek. He’s at peace now, Beauregard. I know it’s hard to let go, but you must, Cher. Now, my boy would be none too pleased if I let you catch your death out in dis weather. Come, back under the tent wit ya.

Beau laughed at that; he could visualize her words as she said them: Izzie glaring at him with a pointed stare, cussing him with that mixture of Cajun, French and Creole that first drew Beau to the man that night so many years ago. Beau and a group of friends were drinking at Arnaud’s Bar in the French Quarter when one of the customers—drunk obviously—got a little handsy with the waitress. The waiter, a tall, lithe man with skin as black as night grabbed the drunk and tossed him out on his ass. A litany of colorful words spoken in three different languages fell from the gorgeous guy’s lips. When he turned, apologizing to the patrons of the bar, his gaze lingered a few seconds longer as his eyes landed on Beau.

That was it; just one look and Beau was hooked. They had survived so much. Beau’s homophobic father’s rants and threats to gut them both and toss their bleeding bodies into Lake Pontchartrain for the gators to feast on. His demanding schedule while in law school. Izzie’s subsequent battle with drugs and alcohol to fill the void he felt with Beau being gone so much to obtain his law degree. Rehab, racism and bigotry from people they had called friends and family—some because of their interracial relationship, some because of the homosexual aspect, and still others that looked down on them for both. They had survived it all for over a decade.

In the end it was the disease that took his lover from him, his once beautiful body ravaged with infection to the point that Izzie was unrecognizable. His battle with addiction left a permanent scar on their lives, Izzie having contracted HIV from sharing needles during the heroin phase of his downward spiral. Beau contracted the virus from his lover as well, both of them unaware of the danger until it was too late. While Beau was able to manage his illness, Izzie’s immune system was too weak, his fragile body succumbing to full blown AIDS and eventually, death.

You hear me, boy? I said let’s go! Alma barked, and the reality of where they were, what was happening, slammed into him like a freight train. He nodded, his gaze drawn back to the simple black coffin once more.

Pulling the red rose from the breast pocket of his suit coat, Beau knelt next to the coffin and gently placed the flower on top. I hope you are finally at peace, Mon Chéri, he whispered.

His body fought back when Beau stood, his legs quivering, his soul straining to stay with its other half. Somehow Beau managed to put one foot in front of the other and follow Alma down the steep hill to the car that sat waiting for them. His clothing was soaked, the rain still dripping off the ends of his long hair as the car pulled away. Beau shivered, chilled to the bone—a chill he felt certain would haunt him until the end of his days.

Chapter One

Legal Ease

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Beau crossed the street as the light changed, a yellow cab nipping at his heels as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Mornings in Manhattan were insane, and he usually avoided them at all costs. He had an evidentiary hearing this morning though, so that wasn’t an option. While Beau didn’t technically practice law in a courtroom anymore, he occasionally represented someone that came through New Horizons, the LGBT Center that he ran.

Mr. Boudreaux! The voice caught Beau’s attention. He stopped and turned, watching Tommy take the steps toward him two at a time.

Morning Tommy, you ready for dis? Beau clapped the young man on his shoulder, smiling, waiting for Tommy to catch his breath. They headed into the building amid a shower of flashing bulbs, questions being hurled at them from every direction. The Johnson family was not only wealthy, they held a prominent status in New York’s social circles. Tommy’s parents had petitioned the court to have the trust fund left for him by his grandmother frozen and returned to the late woman’s estate, citing mental incapacity on the part of Mabel Johnson, Tommy’s grandmother.

The evidence Beau and Tommy presented consisted of a letter and a video recording from before his grandmother’s death. She had been the only person in Tommy’s family that had accepted him—in fact, she took Tommy in when his parents kicked him out at the age of fourteen because he was gay. It was laughable that her son and his wife were sitting in the courtroom trying to convince the judge that the woman was rolling over in her grave at the thought of their son, the deviant, using her money to afford his vulgar lifestyle. More likely she was face down, ass up telling her son to kiss it and shut the fuck up.

The prosecuting attorney argued against admitting the letter or the video into evidence until he was blue in the face. Beau’s rebuttal was ready as soon as the suit finally shut up and sat down.

"Your Honor, the Johnsons would have dis court believe dat Mabel Johnson—the woman dat took Tommy in at fourteen when his parents left him to the streets, the woman dat raised Tommy for the last five years of her life wit nothing but kindness and love—they would have us believe dat she would not want Tommy to have the money in the trust fund she set up for him because he was gay.

I tink we should hear her thoughts on dis matter, let her words speak the truth, not the words of dese two obviously homophobic, bigoted people dat left a helpless, fourteen-year-old boy on the streets, simply because of his sexual orientation."

Objection, Your Honor! Council crosses the line with slander of my client’s character— the prosecuting attorney froze with his mouth open as the judge raised his hand, effectively silencing him.

Overruled. Bailiff, please take the video from Mr. Boudreaux and set it up while I look over the letter, the judge directed.

Soft murmurs could be heard behind him, making Beau a little bit nervous. Every other word he heard whispered was hateful or derogatory, directed at him and his client. Tommy’s father glared at them from across the way, nothing but loathing in his eyes. Beau looked up at the judge again and cleared his throat.

What I have here is a letter from Mabel Johnson along with her last will and testament, as well as a letter from a licensed psychiatrist and Mrs. Johnson’s physician stating she was indeed of sound mind and body when she drafted her will. Looking up, the judge met the Johnsons and their attorney’s eyes, emotionless. Bailiff, start the video.

The television screen came to life, Mabel Johnson with her white hair and serene smile gazing out at the room full of people. Hello, Thomas. I bet you thought you’d never have to see my ugly mug again after you buried me in the ground. Well, while I do hate disappointing you, I couldn’t take a chance that you would do what you are obviously trying to do, or you wouldn’t be watching this video.

Mabel Johnson was a small, round woman that wore her glasses on a chain, her white hair in a bun and she spoke with a severe southern accent. Beau pursed his lips to keep from laughing out loud. Stealing a glance at the bench, he saw the judge smiling; that was a very good sign. Out of the corner of his eye, Beau could see the Johnsons had gone pale, their mouths hanging open.

Five minutes later the video ended and it was evident that Tommy was going to come out the victor in the case. The judge agreeing at this point was merely a formality as Tommy’s grandmother was clearly coherent and rational when she drew up her will. This was why Beau had become a lawyer in the first place, so he could help the people that society tried to sweep under the rug.

Tommy cheered when the judge said those two magic words, Case dismissed, his gavel banging loudly, echoing off the walls. Beau stood and stuffed his tablet, Tommy’s file and the video into his messenger bag, turning as Thomas Johnson marched over to give him a piece of his mind. Tommy stood behind Beau, giggling as all five foot ten of his father, face beet red, pointed his finger at Beau and went off on a tirade.

And you should be ashamed of yourself. The Lord will take care of you though, faggot lover. The longer Thomas Johnson ranted, the louder his voice grew. Beau stood silent, one eyebrow cocked, his massive arms crossed over his equally impressive chest. He was thankful for the several inches he had over the hateful man at the moment, the spittle flying out of his mouth spraying Beau’s shirt rather than his face.

Thomas Johnson’s wife and his attorney both tried to quiet him, only to be shrugged off. Finally, he was escorted from the courtroom by two officers with shiny handcuffs that Beau prayed they would use on the little fucker, and not in any way that would be remotely gratifying. He’s a real piece of work, right? Tommy said, still chuckling as his father was all but dragged from the room.

A right piece of shit if you ask me. Beau snorted, pulling his coat on as they headed out into the warmth of the sun.

Tommy treated Beau to lunch at Heartland Brewery, knowing it was one of his favorites. Their veggie burgers had just arrived when Beau saw three familiar faces heading their way. He stood and gave Tristan a one armed hug when he was close enough, extending his hand first to Micah and then Gabe. Beau introduced Tommy, and the five of them talked briefly. Well, we’ll let you two get back to your food. Micah saw you over here and wanted to come over and say hi, Tristan said before he, Micah and Gabe turned and made their way to a table on the other side of the bar.

Oh my god, Tommy leaned toward Beau so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone sitting close by. Do you know who that is? That’s Gorgeous Gabe and Aiden Cox. Holy shit, I just met Gorgeous Gabe and Aiden Cox. Wow, they’re even hotter in person. Tommy’s smile was a mile wide.

Beau dropped his burger onto the plate, turning to glare at Tommy. What you know bout dat?

Tommy rolled his eyes. Really Beau, I’m twenty, almost twenty-one, not twelve. Besides, any gay man that doesn’t know who Gabe and Aiden are should have their gay card revoked. They are like, the sexiest guys online. Well, aside from Hayden Cox, but I don’t think he does porn anymore. At least I haven’t seen him in anything in a while.

Beau smacked the young man on the back of the head. Ouch! Tommy winced.

Shut up and eat your suppah. Beau pointed at the veggie burger. It was hard to chew his food while also trying not to laugh. The look on Tommy’s face when Tristan, Micah and Gabe approached them had been priceless.

So, which one is with the big guy, Tristan? Tommy asked around a mouthful of food.

Don’t talk wit your mouth full and they both are. Tommy’s eyes went wide and he coughed, choking on a piece of burger stuck in his throat. Beau chuckled, reaching over and smacking him on the back a bit harder than necessary.

The poor kid finally swallowed, gulping down a glass of water before turning to Beau with the most serious expression on his face. "All three? Together? Like together, together?"

Beau nodded, smiling and shaking his head, focusing on his food again. I just want one guy to like me, Tommy mumbled.

Beau took the time to chew the food in his mouth before turning to face Tommy again. Listen to me, little man. You’re twenty years old, still wet behind the ears, not even old enough to enjoy the drink yet. Stop trying to grow up too fast; when the time is right, you’ll know.

Tommy stared down at his plate, his cheeks blazing red. His baby-blue eyes darted around, landing on Beau only briefly before they moved back to his burger. He smiled though, and Beau couldn’t help but laugh—the kid was adorable. A blessed silence fell over them, for which Beau was grateful. Tommy didn’t speak again until they were in the parking lot.

So, do you know any other hot gay porn stars you could introduce me to? he asked, grinning.

Beau grabbed him in a mock chokehold, giving Tommy a painful noogie before shoving him toward his truck. Get in the truck, you little shit!

Chapter Two

Friends...for Now

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Congratulations on winning Tommy’s case, Tristan said over his shoulder, leading the way into his office, closing the door behind Beau.

Thanks Tris, it was easy enough wit the video. He took his usual spot on the couch, Tristan relaxing into his chair across from him.

So, how have you been?

Can’t complain. Business is good, the shelter is getting by, same ole same ole, Beau responded, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes, but how have you been? Tristan stared at him, one eyebrow raised. Have you given any more thought to what we discussed during our last session?" Beau had been coming to see Tristan for a couple of years now, and Tristan had been pressing him to consider dating for at least one of those years, if not longer.

Beau sighed, nodding. I’m a ticking time bomb Tris; one day the disease is gonna take over and...boom.

Tristan sat forward, tossing his tablet and pen onto the coffee table. Now you know that is not necessarily true, Beau. With the advances of modern medicine combined with the healthy lifestyle you lead, it’s possible you won’t ever make the progression to AIDS.

"But what if I do, Tris? You know how hard it was for me when Izzie died, how dat wrecked me. Hell, who knows where I’d be now if not for you, the therapy and counseling? I