Mar. 1st, 2005 05:14 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 41
 
Boyd didn’t stir as Brian slipped his arm out from under him and pulled on a robe before 
retreating to the main room of the cabin. He had no idea what time it was and he didn’t really 
care. At first, all that mattered was reconnecting with Boyd. Emotionally and physically, feeling 
the intense joy of being back in his arms. Everything else retreated to make room for that 
pleasure. But later, unable to sleep, Brian began to stew over the phone call from Justin and now 
he had to act on it.
He found his mobile in the pocket of his jeans and punched in a number from speed dial. Several 
rings and then the sleepy voice of the “other”. “It’s Brian. Put Justin on.”
Pause. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I don’t give a shit what time it is, put Justin on.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Are you deaf? Put him on.”
He heard an off-mike discussion and then Justin’s foggy voice. “What’s wrong, Brian?”
“What’s wrong? What the fuck are you doing calling Boyd? I assume you got his number from Ted 
and I’ll deal with that aspect of it. But what the fuck?”
Justin had obviously carried the portable phone to another room. Brian could hear him move and 
resettle. “First of all, it’s not Ted’s fault, so don’t go off on him. Boyd Coulter’s number is listed 
and when I called his home it rang his cell. I guess he has it call forwarded. Second of all, I didn’t 
do anything wrong. I just wanted to see if you were okay and if you needed any help. I know I 
can’t get a straight answer from you. I never could.”
“Ok, that is absolute horseshit and you know it. I might have bought it if not for the fact you 
asked Boyd if we were seeing each other. What the fuck? Whomever I choose to see is none of 
your fucking business, Justin. You gave up your stake on that claim two years ago. It’s fucking 
wrong for you to call him up and give him an inquisition on his relationship with me and you 
fucking know it.”
“From your tone, I guess I can surmise that you have a relationship with this guy.”
“You can surmise whatever you fucking want, but do your surmising on your own god damn time. 
Not in Boyd’s ear. You understand me? Don’t call him again.”
“Did he go whining to you or something? What a big baby.”
Something about that remark hit Brian hard. He felt his previous anger turn to ice. His voice 
reflected that temperature change. “Boyd doesn’t whine. This isn’t about Boyd. This is about you 
and me.”
“What about us?”
“For two years you’ve lived in bliss with your fiddler, or not, I don’t know how it is with you two, 
and I’m not asking. Whatever your steady state with him, you’re in a relationship with the guy. 
During that time, I’ve watched my old friends welcome him into their circle and into their homes. 
By inviting him to their social gatherings, they marginalized me. I spent my time on the rack, 
agonizing over what I could have done or should have done with you. I know I made a ton of 
mistakes. I know how stubborn I was. How stubborn I am.”
“We both made mistakes.”
“Maybe, but I made some big ones. For two years, the only calls I got from you were to tell me 
happy birthday. Or maybe I’d call you when I was drunk or feeling down. For two years, I’ve been 
adrift.”
“Brian, I…”
“Hear me out. You made your choice, for good reasons, and I mean it when I say that I hope 
you’re happy. I’ve always wanted the best for you. Now I’ve met someone, at last, who may just 
matter to me. I don’t know where we’ll end up, but I do know that I want to give it a chance. 
Don’t fuck it up for me, Justin. Don’t fuck with my head, and don’t fuck with his head. You have 
your partner. You left me in the dust. I didn’t interfere with that, no matter what I may think of 
your choice. Have the common decency to show me the same courtesy.”
He sighed, across the miles. “Brian, you’re in no frame of mind to make big decisions about your 
life, not with that ridiculous murder charge hanging over your head. You’re letting this guy in 
when you’re scared and vulnerable. I know you play the big bluff, but you need a shoulder just 
like everyone else.”
“Yeah, well my need for a shoulder hasn’t bothered you for two years. Now that I may have found 
that shoulder, you suddenly care?”
“I’ve always cared what happened to you. That’s not fair.”
Brian frowned. No, it wasn’t fair, but he wasn’t feeling very charitable. “You’re right, but you care 
about me from a safe distance. Boyd cares about me right here, right next to me, at no small risk 
to his own security and reputation. See the difference?”
“You’re just lonely and trapped. You have no options.”
“If that helps get you through the night, then you think that.”
“Brian, if you had shown me even a glimpse of this emotion you’re talking about now, maybe 
we’d still be together.”
“Maybe I learned from my mistakes.”
“It’s so unfair. You walled me off. You blew it with me. You never gave us a chance, and now 
you’re risking everything on someone you hardly know.”
Brian leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I understand that, but if I lose Boyd it won’t 
be because I let him go, or pushed him away. It will be because he wanted to leave.”
“I want your happiness, Brian. I want those ridiculous charges dropped and for you to come 
home. I don’t trust this guy.”
“You know what, Sunshine? I do trust him. And I think you know how big a deal that is for me.”
“I hope he doesn’t make a fool of you, Brian.”
“He wouldn’t be the first.”
“I wonder if you still have feelings for me that you’re afraid to admit, and if so, are you ready to 
move on?”
“I admit to all of my feelings for you, Justin, good and bad. I just decided to stop beating myself 
up over them, to get on with my life. It’s way overdue.”
“Maybe I should come down there so we can talk face to face.”
“Don’t even think about it. I have enough to deal with without having that. Step back.”
Justin sounded burned as he said, “That’s pretty blunt.”
“Have you ever known me to be less than blunt? Go back to bed, Justin. I’ve said what I had to 
say. I think we understand each other.”
“I’m still worried.”
“Don’t be. Sorry to have awakened you. Later.” Brian hung up and closed his eyes as his dormant 
headache flared. He returned to bed and slipped beneath the covers, next to Boyd, trying not to 
disturb him. Boyd turned and spread his arm across Brian’s torso.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“How did what go?”
“You were talking to Justin, right?”
“Eavesdropping, counselor?”
“No. I heard you get up, I heard you talking on the phone, some of it heated. I couldn’t make out 
the words, wasn’t trying to listen, really. I needn’t be Sherlock Holmes to figure this one out, 
Brian. Might have been nice if you waited until morning to call him.”
“You don’t get to tell me when to make a phone call,” Brian snapped, then immediately regretted 
his flash of anger. Boyd just smiled as he crept his hand over Brian’s hard pectorals. 
“Just pointing out the obvious.”
Brian covered Boyd’s hand with his own. “I’m just tense. Ignore me.”
“What can we do about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“About your tension?”
Boyd’s hand slipped lower, down Brian’s flat belly, scraping his thatch of pubic hair with his nails. 
Brian smiled, beginning to uncoil inside. “I don’t know, Boyd. What do you think we can do?”
“This might be a healthy start. What do you think?” He cradled Brian’s cock on his palm, feeling it 
expand as the blood flowed into it. Boyd enclosed it in his fist and pulled. “Is this helping?”
Brian squirmed, and said, “It isn’t hurting.” He reached over to stroke Boyd’s smooth skin. After a 
minute, he moved on top of Boyd, and slid his tongue into his mouth. Boyd fastened his arms and 
legs around Brian, as if to bind him to his body. 
“I won’t let you go,” Boyd whispered as the kiss ended. “Not for him, not for anyone.”
“Give it some time,” Brian responded. “You’ll be putting ads in papers to find someone to take me 
off your hands.”
“No way.”
“Way. Never fails.”
“How would you know, Brian? You’ve only had one fucking relationship! All the others were just 
numbers.”
Brian licked Boyd’s temple, cheekbone, and drug his tongue across his lips. “You’re such a silver-
tongued devil. Aren’t lawyers supposed to give better chat than that?”
“Okay, how about this?” Boyd grabbed Brian’s face and held it in both hands as he said, “At last, 
my love has come along. My lonely days are over, and life is like a song.”
Brian smiled. “You punched in that song at the bar.”
“The second time, I did. It was playing when I first walked in. It said everything I was feeling, so 
I re-played it. ‘You smile, you smile, and then the spell was cast. And here we are in heaven, for 
you are mine at last’.”
“Let me be clear about this,” Brian said with a firm intonation. “We are not having ‘a song’. I don’t 
do ‘songs’. And if I did do songs, it wouldn’t be anything as sappy as that one. Understood?”
Boyd smiled. “Understood.”
Brian rolled off of him, pressing his hands to his ears with a grimace. “Now that damned song is 
pounding in my brain. You ruined the mood.”
Boyd laughed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you get grumpy when you get horny?”
“I’m always grumpy.”
“You’re always horny.”
Brian cut him a glare. “Complaining?”
“Only when you quit in the middle of a fuck session, like now.”
“Yeah?” Brian smiled at him. “You want it that bad?”
“What do you think?”
“Then come and get it,” Brian spread his arms out on the mattress and Boyd reached for him, 
pulling him into his arms. Brian let himself be led, trying not to think of the lines from that 
fucking song. Unbidden and uninvited, it played through his mind, yet again. ‘Here we are in 
heaven, for you are mine at last.’
If this wasn’t heaven, Brian figured it was as close to the real thing as a sinner could expect to 
get. 
Current Mood:  content

Mar. 2nd, 2005 05:19 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 42 
 
Brian was making peace with the swamp. He was feeling pretty peaceful about everything that 
morning. Mug of fresh coffee in hand, a sheen of deet on his skin, he stood on the snake-free 
dock wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans. He watched the sun come up over the primordial 
ooze and smiled as he remembered the night before. He was fucked out, in a good way, and 
though it was early, he slept hard, until now, and woke up feeling refreshed. Boyd looked so 
content, sleeping against Brian’s pillow, that he stared at his face for a good two minutes before 
he quietly left the bed.  
 
Yeah, he was charged with murder. Yeah, he could go to prison for life, but what the fuck. He was 
happy. For this one moment in time, Brian Kinney felt happy. He saw an alligator float past, but 
then realized it was just a log and he chuckled at his imagination. Lost in thought, he was startled 
when someone said, 
 
“You must be our celebrity murderer.” 
 
There goes the mood. Brian looked up at Rex Berenson, although he didn’t know who he was at 
that moment. His intruder was wearing shorts and a y-back shirt, having jogged far enough to be 
soaked with sweat. He was handsome in a slick, polished way. Even in running clothes, he looked 
poised. Brian didn’t allow his dig to get through.  
 
“This is private property,” Brian warned and Rex laughed. 
 
“I know. I live here. At the plantation house, that is. I’m Rex Berenson, Boyd’s brother in law. I 
saw his car. Where is he? In the house?” 
 
Brian frowned. Boyd couldn’t buy a break in this claustrophobic little town. 
He knew he had to at least try and protect Boyd’s orientation from this guy, so he said, “If his 
car’s still here, I guess he is. We worked late last night. I didn’t check his room before I came out 
here.” 
 
Berenson regarded that information with a look Brian could only describe as a smirk. “Yeah. 
Right.” He let his stare wander over Brian’s bare torso, his long legs, his bare feet and back up 
again. If Brian didn’t know better, he would believe he was being cruised. More likely he was 
being evaluated. “I guess you’re in a mess of trouble.” 
 
“I can’t discuss the case.” 
 
“Right,” he smiled. He was so sure of how handsome he was that Brian disliked him intensely. He 
had his own vanity to contend with, but he hoped his arrogance took a different form. “I’ll just go 
say hello to Boyd.” 
 
“It’s very early,” Brian walked down the path, towards Berenson, determined to get between the 
cabin and him. “Like I said, he worked late. Let him sleep. I’ll tell him to call you when he wakes 
up.” 
 
“Excuse me, but I’m family. Who the hell are you to tell me whether I can talk to Boyd?” 
 
“I’m the man who understands the concept of simple courtesy.” 
 
Berenson laughed. “I have an appointment with your investigator today. Be nice, or he may not 
like what I have to say.” 
 
“He’s not going to be asking you about your opinion of my shiny personality.” 
 
“You’re awfully cocky for a guy about to go on trial for his life.” 
 
“It’s my way of dealing with pain,” Brian said with a grin and Berenson narrowed his eyes, unsure 
of how to take that. Brian added, “Rex? Isn’t that a dog’s name?” 
 
Berenson glared at him. “It’s French for king.” 
 
“No, it’s Latin for king. French for king is roi.” 
 
“That’s what I meant.” 
 
“Yeah, French, Latin, easy to mix up.” 
 
“I don’t like you very much, buddy.” 
 
“Damn. And I was hoping for an invitation to the big house.” 
 
“Oh you’ll get your big house invitation, alright, but it won’t be the plantation.” 
 
“Brian? Rex?” Boyd came out of the house, his bed hair endearing to his lover, his expression 
bleary. He wore a robe and Brian could read the tension on his face. He quickly reassured him. 
 
“I explained to Rex that we worked late and that I didn’t check your room when I came out here, 
so I presumed you were still asleep.” 
 
Boyd met Brian’s gaze with a grateful smile. “You want something, Rex?” 
 
“Do you really think it’s safe to spend the night alone in a house with an accused murderer?” 
 
Boyd combed his fingers through his hair and laughed. “I slept with a gun under my pillow. Do 
you want something, Rex?” 
 
“I want to know why that fucking investigator is calling me. And LuAnn.” 
 
“I don’t know why Bo put certain people on his list. Maybe because you live close to the scene of 
the crime. You’ll have to ask him. But I think you can spare him a few minutes of your golden 
time.” 
 
“Why should I?” 
 
“Because I’m asking you to.” 
 
“Afraid of something?” Brian added, a little surprised by Rex’s flash of anger. 
 
“Fuck off! I don’t even know you, white trash.” 
 
“White trash?” Brian repeated and laughed. “I’m getting a refill on this,” he held up his mug. 
“Great meeting you, your majesty.” He went into the cabin and Boyd glared at his brother in law. 
 
“What’s your fucking problem?” 
 
“You’re my fucking problem, Boyd. And you’re a fucking liar. I knew you were a faggot from the 
first time I met you. Then you go and marry Bonnie and bring that poor girl into your disgusting 
way of life. And now you’re banging some fucking murderer! What do you think Junior would 
think about all this information?” 
 
“I think my father would think you were a god damned fool if you told him your presumption.” 
 
“And if Bonnie told him she caught you two together at your place? And then you tell her you’re 
not seeing him anymore and then I catch you together here? What about that?” 
 
Boyd stared hard at him. “How do you know that? She told you that?” 
 
“It’s not like we weren’t in the same family for the years you were married to her, Boyd. I feel 
sorry for Bonnie. You’ve humiliated her and you continue to humiliate her, with no regard for the 
impact on your own kids. She has to talk to someone she can trust.” 
 
“And she trusts you?” 
 
He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t she?” 
 
“Because you’re slime, Rex,” Boyd felt a jolt of realization bleed through him. “Wait a minute. Are 
you sleeping with Bonnie? You always had the hots for her.” 
 
The shifty, nervous look that Rex assumed assured Boyd that he’d hit a nerve. “Shut the fuck 
up.” 
 
“Oh my god, you are sleeping with her. Jesus, and I thought my opinion of her couldn’t get any 
lower.” 
 
“Stop trying to make this about me. This is about you, Boyd. You know how Junior feels about 
faggots. Look what happened to Lisette. If he finds out about you, he’ll disinherit you just like he 
did her.” 
 
Boyd shook his head, still hung up on his discovery. “You can’t threaten me with that, Rex. My 
money’s in trust and it’s secure.” 
 
“Yeah, but your voting stock isn’t and your power at the mill through those shares isn’t.” 
 
“See, this is why I went to law school. So I could look at idiots like you and explain to them just 
how stupid they are. The stock I hold was given to me by my grandparents over time, and also by 
my father. It’s mine. And I also hold Lisette’s proxy and the proxy of my children. At best, Bonnie 
could try to get the kids’ proxies to an independent trustee, but their holdings are minor 
compared to what Lis and I own. No one can take away from me either the stock or the voting 
power that goes with that block. The only reason Lisette isn’t in there voting her own stock is 
because she didn’t want to deal with my old man. But nothing you do or say and nothing my 
father thinks of me can change the fact I can vote you off your job.” 
 
Rex seemed to be assimilating that information and then he said, “Unless you had to give up 
some of that stock. To your kids, for instance. Enough to shift the power back to Junior.” 
 
“Which isn’t going to happen.” 
 
“Never say never, Boyd. All sorts of reasons to do that. Protect your reputation, protect yourself 
from losing those kids, protect your new boyfriend in there.” 
 
“Rex, how do you think Junior, or for that matter, a court, would look upon the fact that you’re 
fucking your former sister in law? Daddy adores LuAnn. He never thought you were good enough 
for her. You think he’d take kindly to that information?” 
 
“It isn’t true, you paranoid faggot.” 
 
“I think it is.” 
 
“I think you can kiss my ass, but then, you’d like that too much.” 
 
“I’ve never found your ass particularly attractive. Too flat.” Boyd knew any insult aimed at Rex’s 
body would hit home. It did. Rex pushed him back. 
 
“I’m sick of your shit, Boyd. Always the wounded duck, always put upon by mean old Bonnie, 
when you were the one who tricked her into getting married even though you preferred dick, and 
you were the one who cheated on her with that nigger boyfriend of yours, and exposed her to 
AIDS and god knows what else, and you’re the one who parades this fucking cocksucker around 
your kids despite the fact he murdered someone. You’ve gotten away with it way too long. Your 
ducks are flying home, man.” 
 
“For the record, I was honest with Bonnie before we married and she insisted we go through with 
it. And I never cheated on her, not once, not with Jared, not with anyone. And finally, Brian didn’t 
murder Greg Willis. Someone else did. And we’ll find out who that is, you’d better believe it. If I 
end up spending every penny I have to help him find that person, we will.” 
 
“Like I believe you over her.” 
 
“I don’t give a shit what you believe, Rex. Now get the fuck off my property.” 
 
“Your property?” 
 
“I own this cabin, remember? My grandfather left it to me.” 
 
Rex frowned as he recalled that fact and he turned to go. Suddenly he paused and said, “You’re 
going down, Boyd. You and your pretty little boyfriend in there. You’re both going down.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “We go down on a regular basis, Rex. Jealous?” 
 
“Fuck you!” 
 
“Dream on.” 
 
Rex left and Boyd went into the cabin where he found Brian making a fresh pot of coffee. He 
slipped up behind him and rested his cheek against his bare back, his arms around his waist. “You 
drink too much caffeine. It’s bad for you.” 
 
“Of all my bad habits, caffeine is the least troubling. What was that all about? The guy’s an 
asshole.” 
 
“Oh yeah. And the guy is fucking my ex-wife.” 
 
Brian turned in his arms to stare at him. “He told you that?” 
 
“No, but he didn’t have to tell me. It’s obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before now. The 
bitch is fucking Rex Berenson. And I didn’t think she could sink any lower.” 
 
“Are you jealous?” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I’m disgusted on the one hand, but on the other, I’m thrilled. At last, a chink in 
Bonnie’s saintly armor. Rex knows how my old man would react to the news that he’s stepping 
out on my sister. Especially with my ex. And unlike Lisette and me, Rex is dependent on the good 
will of my father for his livelihood. LuAnn doesn’t own a large block of stock on her own and she’s 
never been involved in the business. Daddy votes her proxy. Rex thinks he can blackmail me for 
being gay, but this little bit of news is far more powerful. My dad can exile me, and he can take 
away the meat of my law practice since so many of my clients are his cronies, but as Lisette 
points out, he can’t hurt me financially and I don’t need that law practice to pay the bills.” 
 
Brian let his hands run down Boyd’s firm ass as he said, “How rich are you? I thought you said 
you shot your wad working on your rehab at the old mill?” 
 
“I shot the wad I set aside for that rehab, Brian. But I have money. Plenty of money. My 
grandparents were very generous with me, as the only grandson, old traditions die hard. My 
grandmother is in a nursing home now, and my old man votes her stock, but we all know when 
she dies, her stock reverts to me. She adores me. Or did before her mind wandered. She has 
Alzheimer’s. No way she can change her will now, non compos mentis.” 
 
“There’s that much money in sugar?” 
 
Boyd smiled. “This is a nation addicted to sugar. There’s that much money in sugar milling. How 
rich are you?” 
 
Brian leaned over and whispered the amount he got for selling his business in Boyd’s ear. Boyd 
nodded and then said, “Double it and you get an idea of the assets I hold.” 
 
“Shit,” Brian said with a laugh. “This great ass and money too?” 
 
“I could say the same about you.” 
 
“Gay money. It’s all good.” 
 
Brian untied Boyd’s robe and looked down at his body with a smile. “Let’s go to bed.” 
 
“We just got up,” Boyd teased. 
 
“What’s your point?” 
 
“I have no point. Lead on.” 
 
Brian grabbed the sash of Boyd’s robe and used it as a leash as he led him back to bed. 
Current Mood:  curious


Mar. 3rd, 2005 04:35 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 43
 
Joe Renard was a child of the sixties, pushing sixty. And sixty was pushing back. He still wore the 
lank, shoulder length hair of his youth, only now it began midway back on his scalp and what 
there was of it was thin, oily and steel grey. He had the stained fingers and teeth of a chronic 
smoker of chronic and he was pissed off as he filled up Bo’s tank at the Texaco. 
 
“That dumb fuck, Greg Willis, left me high and dry,” he complained as if Willis had taken an 
unscheduled day off rather than falling victim to a brutal murder. Bo couldn’t put this aging, 
profane hippie together with the prim, tightly controlled woman he was married to, and who Bo 
had already interviewed. Bo found her as humorless and welcoming as an Iron Maiden.  
 
He suspected her husband wasn’t one who liked to work or who found any satisfaction in hard 
work. Rather, he struck Bo as a man who wanted nothing more than to have enough income to 
support his habit and his idle ways. “Your wife was the one to fire Greg, right?” Bo asked. 
 
“Made me do it. You don’t see that ol’ woman working the pumps, now do you?” 
 
“No sir, I don’t.” 
 
“And you won’t. She’s too busy saving freaking souls for Jay-sus.” 
 
“I take it you don’t share her religious convictions?’ 
 
“The Virgin Mary ain’t as religious as that woman.” 
 
“But you’ve been married a long time. Something must work.” Bo had checked out their marriage 
in public records. 
 
“I reckon we’ve been together awhile, off and on. We’ve lived separate and got back together 
again, more than once. This Texaco belonged to her Daddy. She got it when he died.” 
 
Financially bound, Bo reasoned. “So you’re hired help?” 
 
“May as well be. She didn’t used to be the way she is now. She used to be light-hearted, fun. We 
was wild together when we was young. Lived in a commune in Tempe, Arizona for awhile. Grew 
our own weed and sold the excess. We moved back here when her mama got sick. She took care 
of her mama and I helped out her Daddy at the Texaco. My wife got in with these women at the 
Pentecostal church and the bitch changed. We stayed on even after her mama kicked off.” 
 
“In what way did she change?” 
 
“Every way. No more dope, no drinking, cut off her hair, put on a bra, made me sell my Harley. 
When her Daddy died and she got a little money out of it she put the clamps on my balls, I tell 
you what.” 
 
“But you stayed with her?” 
 
“Where’s a skinny ol’ boy like me gonna go? No money, health’s for shit, I need this bitch to get 
by. So I suck it up.” 
 
“What can you tell me about Greg Willis?” 
 
“He was no good. Came by it natural from his Daddy. That ol’ boy is one mean sumbidge. Greg 
ain’t worth the shit sticking to a cat’s butt.” 
 
“Did you know he was gay?” 
 
Joe shrugged, wiped a greasy red rag over his hands and then ran his hands through his hair, 
adding more sludge to the blend. “We never talked about that kind of shit.” 
 
“But did you know?” Bo bore in.  
 
“How the hell would I know that?” 
 
“You tell me.” 
 
“What’re you getting’ at?” 
 
“When your wife walked in on Greg and Mr. Kinney, she said ‘I knew it’ as if she was expecting to 
find something going on.” 
 
“Maybe she suspected Greg was queer.” 
 
“Maybe she thought she’d catch you doing something, Joe.” 
 
“Like what?” his eyes narrowed into a web of squint lines.  
 
“I don’t know. Maybe you aren’t unfamiliar with getting head from a man in a closed off 
storeroom.” 
 
“You asking for an ass kicking?” 
 
“You can try. Others have, others failed.” Bo reached into his valise and pulled out a slick 8X10 of 
a tall, pretty girl in a dated sequin dress and high rise beehive wig. “Do you know who this is?” 
 
Joe looked at it, winced, and handed it back. “Never saw her before.” 
 
“Her name is JoJo Foxx. JoJo is, like the Beatles’ song says, ‘ a man who thought he was a 
woman’. She worked a transvestite club in Savannah in the seventies.” 
 
Joe paled and sat down heavily on an overturned oil drum. “Renard is French for fox. That’s how I 
come up with that drag name.” 
 
“I figured as much,” Bo said, trying to reconcile this skinny old pothead with the hot looking she-
male in the photo. He offered no form of censure. Being accepting was how you got people to 
confide.  
 
“I didn’t look like this back then, as you can see,” Joe said.  
 
“None of us did. Time is cruel.” 
 
“I had great legs and I was a slim guy. It was just a phase I went through when I was busted up 
with my old lady. I needed the money, too. I met some nice people at that club and made some 
good cash. It was fun, like being in show biz. I never took no hormones or wanted to get my dick 
cut off or anything like that. I learned a lot when I dressed up that way. I learned how women 
lead men around by their dicks. It’s powerful, you know?” 
 
“Did you have some boyfriends, Joe?” 
 
“Man living on his own in a strange city, you get lonely. And boys was all I was ever around.” 
 
“Why did you leave Savannah, Joe? I heard it was abrupt, that the club still owed you money.” 
 
“ A group of us ran into a little trouble with the local heat.” 
 
“Drugs?” 
 
“No, a few of us got caught up in this dragnet in the park after hours. They said if we left town 
and never came back, they wouldn’t put us in jail. So we went.” 
 
“What was the charge going to be? Public lewd?” 
 
“Not sure what they said, but it all comes down to their not wanting us to party after dark in their 
fucking parks.” 
 
“Who is ‘us’?” 
 
“Just some of the boys from the club and some of our best customers. “ 
 
“Cutting to the chase, you got busted for sucking dick in the park?” 
 
“I ain’t never gone for that. They sucked me. They liked to see a dolled up woman with a big 
dick.” 
 
Bo tried not to show the shrivel that was happening inside. “So, did you have sex with Greg Willis, 
Joe?” 
 
“Bitch won’t do me no more. Man has needs. For twenty bucks, Greg would give it to me real 
good.” 
 
“How often?” 
 
“Whenever I felt like I needed it. Not so much now that I’m older than dirt.” 
 
“Oral sex?” 
 
“Only that, only him sucking me. I ain’t no butt muncher or ass fucker.” 
 
“When was the last time?” 
 
“I don’t know. Couple of weeks, I guess.” 
 
“Day he was killed?” 
 
“No, I didn’t go to work that day. Hungover.” 
 
“That evening?” 
 
“Never saw him that day.” 
 
“Do you know your blood type, Joe?” 
 
“O positive, the universal donor. I sold enough blood in my life to know that answer.” 
 
That fact made obvious the problems faced by commercial blood banks, Bo realized. “Thanks for 
your help, Joe.” 
 
“Listen man, my old lady can’t hear about this. She’d kick me out on my sinning ass and not give 
me a dime. Since Savannah, she watches me like a hawk where boys are concerned.” 
 
“I won’t say a word, but I can’t guarantee it won’t be used in Mr. Kinney’s trial.” 
 
“He can’t do that.” 
 
“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Bo paid for the gas, wrote it down in his expense ledger, and 
drove away, anxious to escape the haunted relic that once was JoJo Foxx. 
 
 
 
Brian breezed into the B&B after Boyd dropped him off on his way to his law offices. Breakfast 
had been served, the dishes cleared, order restored to the peachy dining room. Ted was seated 
there with fresh coffee and a mountain of papers spread out before him. His calculator clicked 
beneath his knowledgeable fingers. Brian came up behind him, thumped the back of his head with 
middle finger and thumb, and then dropped into a chair.  
 
Ted rubbed the back of his head as he glared at his friend. “Have a good night?” 
 
“I had a great night, Teddy. How about you?” 
 
“I’ve been working on records all night and now all day. For Bo.” 
 
Jon came out of the kitchen, smiling tentatively at Brian. He had finally learned not to anticipate 
his moods. Today, the sun was out in the Kinney psyche. “Jon, could I sweet talk you into a bagel 
and some orange juice? Maybe a little cream cheese? Lightly toasted.” 
 
Jon was thrilled to be able to accommodate him, and he retreated to the kitchen as Brian poured 
himself some coffee. “Why are you so fucking happy?” Ted asked with an air of suspicion. Brian 
shrugged. 
 
“Am I? I don’t know. I just am.” 
 
“I take it you and Boyd patched things up.” 
 
“Let me tell you about Boyd, Teddy. Boyd is off limits. He’s off limits when you and I talk and he’s 
so far off limits when you talk to the gang in Pittsburgh that if I find out you’re gossiping about us 
again, I’ll have your balls on a plate. How’s that?” 
 
Ted stared at him, and then shook his head. “You are so fucked. You are completely fucked over 
this guy. I never thought I’d live to see it.” 
 
Brian forced a smile. “You won’t, if you keep talking that way.” 
 
“What is it about him that makes him different, Brian? I realize he’s hot and he seems like a nice 
guy, but…” 
 
“See, you failed to hear me. I said we don’t discuss Boyd. This is discussing. So shut the fuck up. 
I talked to Justin last night. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. I’m telling you to stop reporting my 
personal life to him or to any of them. Understand?” 
 
Ted started to defend and Brian clamped a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed. 
“Understand?” 
 
“Okay, okay, let go of me!” 
 
Brian released him as his impromptu breakfast arrived. “What are you finding?” Brian asked as 
Jon left them alone. 
 
“A complete mystery,” Ted responded. “All sorts of oddly timed cash infusions, strange amounts, 
lots of withdrawals. Sometimes he’d be overdrawn, other times, fairly flush. He seemed to spend 
whatever he made, big or small, but I don’t know on what, because the money went out to ATM 
withdrawals. No car payment, no rent, I guess he lived at home. His only recurring expenses 
were car and health insurance. I’m still weeding through some things, trying to develop a pattern. 
There’s a passbook savings account in a New Orleans bank, but the last entry was almost a year 
ago and the balance he shows is only a few hundred. I’ve asked Bo to get those bank records.” 
 
“None of this seems particularly relevant.” 
 
“I just wonder where those cash infusions were coming from. Not huge, never more than several 
hundred, but what was that income source? His pay from the Texaco was the same amount every 
week, but these other sources varied.” 
 
“You’ll figure it out, Ted. That’s what you do. I want you to drive me to New Orleans today.” 
 
“Why? You aren’t supposed to leave without telling the court, right? Only to see your lawyer? 
Does Boyd know?” 
 
“Ted, live dangerously for once. I’m not jumping bail. I just have a couple things I want to do. 
And no, Boyd doesn’t know.” 
 
“Brian, I could get into trouble too.” 
 
“Fine. Then give me the car keys.” 
 
Ted considered that, and then relented. He figured Brian would be better off if he went along. 
Otherwise, it may look more like he was running. “I don’t like this.” 
 
“Then it must be right. I’m going to take a quick shower and change and then we’ll go.” 
 
“Brian…” 
 
“Be ready.” Brian took the stairs two at a time, his ebullient mood making Ted nervous as he 
reached for his mobile to try and cover Brian Kinney’s ass yet again.
Current Mood: creative


Mar. 4th, 2005 06:23 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 44
 
In the car, on the way to New Orleans, Brian turned down the volume on the radio as he punched 
in a number on speed dial. Ted had no idea who he was calling until he saw a certain smile light 
Brian’s face and his voice got low and intimate.  
 
“Hi. Busy?” Brian chuckled. “No, I’m with Theodore. Nothing, just thought I’d call. I can’t. I’m out 
running an errand.” He smiled. “I don’t have to tell you everything, do I? Good luck with that. Not 
in my nature. How about an afternoon break, instead? What time? Can you make it four? No, not 
at all, bitch, but I don’t think I’ll be able to be there before four,” he laughed at something Boyd 
said, his hazel eyes closing and thick lashes casting a shadow on his cheeks as color rushed into 
his face. “Stop it. I’m with Theodore, remember? Ok, see you at four. Boyd?” he paused. “Never 
mind. No, nothing. Just…it seems like a long time, doesn’t it? I know it’s only been a couple 
hours, but it seems like forever.” 
 
Ted shook his head. Brian Kinney in deep lust or whatever it was. Scary. Bizarre. A sign of the 
Apocalypse. Brian said, “Ok, I’m hanging up now. Yes, I am.” He laughed. “I’m hanging up. 
Goodbye, Boyd. See you at four. Hanging up. Goodbye. Bye. Boyd?” he frowned. “Shit, he hung 
up.” 
 
His mobile rang. Brian had the old-fashioned ring tone, no songs for him. “Hello?” That smile 
again. “I know. Well, we could just keep talking until four, but I think I’d run out of battery and 
you’re supposed to be working. I feel that way too, only it seems physically improbable, given all 
the…well, we were busy last night. And this morning, and yet…” he smiled. No, Ted realized, he 
was beaming. Good God, how scary. “Stop it, Boyd, you fucking cockteaser. Ok, you hang up. 
Hang up now. Ok, bye. Boyd? See you at four. Now hang up.” He pushed end and slipped the 
phone in his pocket, turning the volume up on the radio once again and tapping out the rhythm to 
an old rock standard by the Eagles as he felt Ted stare at him.  
 
“What?” he finally demanded. “Watch the road.” 
 
Ted shook his head. “You two are disgusting together. Absolutely disgusting. I can’t believe this. I 
think you’ve lost your mind.” 
 
Brian laughed. “Possibly. I’ve been through enough lately.” 
 
“Brian, have you really known this guy long enough to be so around the bend over him?” 
 
“What was my rule from this morning? No discussing Boyd. Still holds. No discussing Boyd.” 
 
“But I was privy to that mush.” Brian shrugged. He refused to justify or defend himself to Ted. So 
Ted continued. “It’s not you.” 
 
Brian stared out the window as he watched the swamp give way to a more urban landscape. “You 
don’t know me. None of you know me. You never tried to know me. You only wanted to know 
your image of me, good or bad. That was fine, I wanted that, too. But don’t act like you know me 
now.” 
 
“I know you better than he does, Brian.” 
 
Brian looked at Ted and laughed. “Longer, maybe. You’ve known me longer. But trust me on this, 
Theodore. You don’t know me better.” 
 
“Why now?” 
 
“Why now what?” 
 
“With everything hanging over you, why suddenly decide this is the time to go for it?” 
 
“Not discussing this,” Brian turned up “Hotel California”. Ted turned it down. 
 
“Brian, it’s all about this trial and your fears and the pressure you’re under.” 
 
“Theodore, if you don’t shut up, I’m throwing you out of this vehicle and you’ll be drained of all 
blood by the mosquitoes before you can reach civilization.” 
 
“Ok, ok, fine. Make your own mistakes. Will you at least tell me why we’re going to New 
Orleans?” 
 
“No.” 
 
Ted sighed, giving up. “I have to stop at the bank.” 
 
“Why? Need money?” 
 
“Rod has subpoenaed some records from there and I’m picking them up.” 
 
“Rod? You talked to Rod?” 
 
“No, I talked to Bo.” 
 
Brian frowned. “You ratted me out?” 
 
“I told him I was going into town anyway, so could he get me those records?” 
 
“You covered for me, right? Knowing they would call the DA and tell her I was coming in to see 
my lawyers.” 
 
“Brian, there’s no sense in making trouble for no reason.” 
 
“See? This is why I keep you around, Theodore. For the occasional useful thought you have.” 
 
“Gee, thanks.” 
 
Brian’s mobile rang and he turned down the volume and smiled at the caller ID. “Hi, Boyd. Miss 
me?” Ted frowned and rolled his eyes as he tried not to listen. 
 
 
***************************************************************** 
 
Lorene regarded Boyd with a jaundiced eye as she entered his office, watching him hang up the 
phone. “Why are you so damned happy? This isn’t like you.” 
 
He laughed. “Am I really that morose?” 
 
“You can be pretty gloomy,” she admitted. 
 
“I guess I’m not feeling gloomy today, Lorene. It’s beautiful out there. The sun is shining, the 
sugar’s growing, the fish are biting. What’s not to like?” 
 
“It’s hot, humid and miserable, Boyd. The mosquitoes are biting, the sugar is puny and just what 
is that song you keep humming?” 
 
He smiled at her, and sang a refrain, “At last, my love has come along….isn’t that a beautiful 
lyric?” 
 
“Ok, tell me. Who came along at last? You’re not getting back with Bonnie are you?” 
 
He flinched. “Now there’s a way to ruin a good mood. Lorene, clear my calendar from four on to 
the end of the day.” 
 
“You got the Wilson’s coming in about their will.” 
 
“Move them up or move them to tomorrow, but move them.” 
 
She stared at her boss and then said, “Where are you going to be, Boyd?” 
 
“None of your business, but if anyone asks, I’m in court.” 
 
She smiled. “You’ve become a very bad boy.” 
 
“I’m working on it.” 
 
She left him there and Boyd swiveled in his chair, staring down at the street as his mind 
wandered to Brian. Always to Brian. Smooth, muscular, gorgeous Brian. Brian of the big dick and 
beautiful eyes. Brian’s perfect mouth and long fingers. Brian’s thumb. Brian’s feet. Brian. He was 
so lost in Brian that he didn’t hear Lorene when she first re-entered his office.  
 
“Boyd!” She said with more emphasis and he turned to look at her. 
 
“What?” 
 
“I said that Bo guy is here to see you. No appointment.” 
 
“Send him in.” 
 
Bo came in and Boyd stood to shake his hand and offered him a seat. Bo said, “Two things. First, 
you need to get control of our boy. He can’t be doing wild ass things like going to New Orleans 
without checking in.” 
 
Boyd looked shocked. “He went to New Orleans? Why?” 
 
“I don’t know. His friend Ted tipped me and I got Rod’s office to clear it with the DA, but he’s not 
a free man. If he keeps this up, he’ll be waiting in a jail cell for that trial.” 
 
Boyd was shocked that Brian would leave for New Orleans without telling him and could think of 
nothing to lure him there, except…surely not. Surely he wasn’t going there to trick. Not when 
things were so strong between them. That thought was devastating to Boyd, who felt a flash of 
the inferiority and pain he experienced when Jared tricked on him. “I’ll talk to him,” he said 
quietly and Bo nodded. 
 
“Second thing. Your ex-wife won’t see me. Can you fix that?” 
 
“Why do you want to talk to her, anyway?” 
 
“Rod gave me a list and she’s on it. I’ve added to that list myself and if he hadn’t put her on, I 
would have. Can you finesse it, Boyd?” 
 
“She won’t listen to me. She’ll do the opposite of what I say.” 
 
“Okay, then, I’ll work it another way. Between you and me and the wall, our lad Greg seems to 
have been in business for himself on the side. Charging for what he gave Brian for free. Does that 
surprise you?” 
 
Boyd nodded. He couldn’t imagine a male hooker earning enough to get by on in Canard Rouge. 
“Yes, it does. Who told you that?” 
 
“I don’t want to get into details right now. But it’s a fact. He had at least one paying customer. 
You never..." 
 
“If you ask me about Greg and me again, I’m going to get mad, Bo. I’ve told you, I never had sex 
with Greg Willis. Would never have sex with him. He made me very uneasy. If I wanted to, I 
could have. He made that clear. But I didn’t want him. He was a dangerous piece of shit.” 
 
“Good instincts.” 
 
“Not always, but they worked this once.” 
 
“If you don’t mind my asking, what were you doing with it, Boyd?” 
 
“I do mind your asking. But since it’s for Brian, I’ll tell you. Nothing. I was celibate. No tricks in 
New Orleans, no boys in the parking lot at Spike’s, no girls either. Nothing. Frankly, being in a 
relationship with a dangerous, manic depressive followed by a relationship with a ball busting 
bitch, I was pretty much burned out on the whole thing.” 
 
“Until Brian?” 
 
Boyd nodded. 
 
“He’s going to break your heart, kid.” 
 
“Why do you say that? I thought you liked Brian.” 
 
“I do. But I don’t love Brian. He’s that Teflon kind of guy who goes through life on his looks and 
charm and leaves a lot of debris behind. Not a good bet, even without this murder charge 
hanging over him.” 
 
“You don’t know that, Bo. You don’t know the Brian I know. He’s vulnerable, he’s lonely, he needs 
me.” 
 
Bo shook his head. “For your sake, I hope you’re right, Boyd. You’re a nice man. You’ve had some 
tough breaks. I wish the one you were hanging your hat on was more stable.” 
 
“There’s no one I want but Brian to be that hat rack, Bo. Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d talk to Bonnie, 
but I swear it would do you more harm than good. She knows about Brian and me. She’s loading 
up for the hunt.” 
 
“That’s not a good fact.” 
 
“No, it’s not, but it is what it is.” 
 
Bo left and Boyd looked at his watch. Three hours until four. Three long, interminable hours until 
he saw Brian again. New Orleans? What was he doing there? How could he be so careless? He 
resisted calling him, determined to bring it up when they were face to face. 
 
*********************************************************** 
 
Ted sat there in Jackson Square on a black wrought iron bench, bank records in his briefcase, 
waiting for Brian. He was ten minutes early and he had no idea how late Brian would be. But it 
was insufferably hot and humid and he desperately needed water and air conditioning. Homeless 
people had hit him up with regularity and he had already given away all of his ones and refused 
to part with a five.  
 
He watched a mime, painted silver and draped in mardi gras beads, pose and freeze on the street 
corner, performing some weird ritual as a living statue for the change tourists gave him. He saw a 
piebald mule wearing a straw hat with camellias decorating the brim take a poop in a canvas bag 
hung under its tail, a sanitation measure imposed on the carriages. What a job that must be, to 
empty the poop bag at the end of the day. It made Ted feel better about being Brian’s 
shitcatcher. At least it wasn’t a literal duty.  
 
“Let’s go,” Brian had snuck up on him, somehow, rapping his shoulder. Ted jumped, startled, 
then stood, having to trot to keep up with Brian’s long strides towards where they left the car.  
 
“Slow down!” 
 
“Speed up! I have to be in Canard Rouge by four.” 
 
“I’m not having a heart attack just to accommodate your booty call.” 
 
Brian ignored him and they got in the car. Ted cranked up the air conditioner to full freeze and 
glanced at Brian’s profile as he pulled into traffic. “Where were you, anyway?” 
 
“I need you to move some money into my bank account here.” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“Because I said so. It’s my money, Theodore.” 
 
“How much?” 
 
“Two hundred grand, for now.” 
 
“For now? Two hundred? What the fuck, Brian?” 
 
Brian hunkered down in the seat, closing his eyes as he said, “I’m going to sleep. Wake me up 
when we’re almost there. And Theodore, if you don’t have me there before four, I’ll strangle you.” 
 
“Again with the murder references,” Ted mumbled as Brian snorted at that and quickly fell asleep.
Current Mood:  curious


Mar. 6th, 2005 02:26 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 45
 
Ted reassured himself that Brian was asleep. Brian’s soft, occasional snuffling snore punctuated 
that fact. So Ted slipped in his earpiece and placed a call. Michael answered on the third ring at 
the comic shop.  
 
“Michael Novotny. Can I help you?” 
 
“It’s Ted.” 
 
“What? I can’t hear you.” 
 
“It’s Ted, Michael. I can’t talk any louder than this or I’ll wake up Brian.” 
 
“You’re in bed with Brian?” Was that anger, jealousy or disbelief in Michael’s voice? Probably all 
three.  
 
“I’m driving a car, Mikey. He’s asleep beside me. What are you smoking? He’d rip my balls off if 
he thought I was calling you, so listen fast. Brian’s cracking up. It must be the pressure, I’m not 
sure. Whatever it is, he’s losing it. You need to come down here.” 
 
“To Louisiana? I thought you said he said to stay away.” 
 
“I did and he did. But damn it, Mikey, Brian doesn’t listen to me. Never has, never will. Maybe 
he’ll listen to his best friend.” 
 
“Listen to me about what?” 
 
“About everything! Mikey, Brian thinks he’s in love.” 
 
Silence. “That lawyer guy?” 
 
“The same.” 
 
“It’s just his usual sex thing, Teddy.” 
 
“No, it isn’t.” 
 
“He told you he’s in love?” 
 
“Of course not. He told me to butt out. But I overheard him talking to Boyd on the phone and it 
was like I crossed over into the Twilight Zone. It was…was…lesbianic.” 
 
“Shut up, bitch!” Michael said with a laugh, 
 
“I kid you not. It was the whole, ‘you hang up, no you hang up, no you’ followed by call back 
after call back and now we’re on our way back to town so he can make a booty call. And Mikey, 
he spent two hundred grand on something in New Orleans or he plans to, and I have no idea 
what it is.” 
 
“It’s probably his legal fees. Wow, two hundred large? He has that kind of money?” 
 
“Oh god yes, and more, much, much more. This isn’t legal fees, Mikey. This is something else 
entirely, although I don’t know what. He’s lost it. You have to come down and talk sense to him.” 
 
“I don’t know, Teddy. Brian specifically told me to stay away and Ben wouldn’t like it very much.” 
 
“Mikey, I can’t handle him on my own. Please!” 
 
“Oh jeez, Ted. Brian can’t be in love. He just can’t be. It’s not Brian. It has to be related to his 
trial in some way. Maybe he’s getting a discount from this guy.” 
 
Ted rolled his eyes. Sometimes Michael could be incredibly thick. “Boyd isn’t even trying the case, 
Mikey. It’s nothing like that. Get down here. I need to wake him up, now. We’re almost there. Call 
me later.” 
 
Ted hung up. He poked Brian a couple times with his index finger. Brian shrugged, batted at his 
hand, and then squinted one eye open. “What?” 
 
“Almost there.” 
 
Brian pulled down the visor mirror to examine his face and then combed through his hair with his 
fingers, popped an Altoid, and straightened his clothes. Ted sighed, knowing these preparations 
were not driven by Brian’s usual vanity. They were for Boyd. “Drop me off at the cabin, Ted.” 
 
“Brian…” 
 
Brian raised an imperial brow and Ted shut up. Boyd’s car was there when they pulled up. Ted 
had just braked when Brian was out of the car and running for the door. Ted watched in wonder 
as the door opened and Boyd flung himself into Brian’s arms. Brian kicked the door shut behind 
them without letting go of him. and that was the last thing Ted saw. He sat there for a minute, 
marveling at the way things were going, and then backed up and headed for town. He had new 
bank records to explore, and he planned to take another run at Michael. 
 
 
Boyd kissed Brian on the mouth, tongue probing, hands yanking at his shirt, seeking skin. Brian 
opened Boyd’s belt, his waistband, sliding his hands down the back of his underwear, cupping his 
ass in a firm embrace. He pulled him forward, tilting his pelvis to press his hard cock against 
Boyd’s. Their clothes were shed where they stood and Brian pushed Boyd down to the rug that 
covered the hardwood floors, neither of them willing to make the long walk to the bedroom. Brian 
pulled a condom out of the pocket of his discarded jeans and set it aside, kissing Boyd from the 
top of his head, down his torso, his dick, his legs, his feet, finally licking his tongue across each 
toe.  
 
Boyd experienced sweet agony, wanting more, and yet not wanting it to end. “More,” he pleaded 
and Brian laid beside him, guiding Boyd’s hand to his erection.  
 
“I can’t. I’m too horny. Take the edge off for me and then I can do it right.” 
 
Boyd pulled Brian’s stiff cock twice, feeling him cream copiously even at that limited motion. He 
ducked down and swallowed Brian’s long, hard dick in one glide. By the time the head of his meat 
touched the back of Boyd’s throat, Brian was finished. Boyd swallowed, then smiled and let it slip 
out of his mouth, noticing very little hardness had been resolved by his ejaculation. Brian smiled 
an apology. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Jesus, it’s like being twelve again. Sorry.” 
 
“For what? I love it, Brian. I thought about you, too. Kiss me. Taste yourself.” 
 
He did, rolling Boyd under him. Within minutes, they were locked in a rut and Boyd clung to Brian 
with all his limbs long after they both found satisfaction. Finally Brian moaned and withdrew, 
“Killing my knees on this hard floor, Old soccer players have notoriously bad knees. It’s all the 
lateral movement.” He managed to stand, holding out a hand to Boyd, who took it and was 
hauled to his feet.  
 
“I didn’t know you played soccer.” 
 
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Brian said, slipping an arm behind him as they walked 
to the bedroom.  
 
“I have a few secrets, too.” 
 
“Such as?” 
 
“I played football. I was pretty good at it, too.” 
 
“What position? Fullback?” he ran his hand over Boyd’s butt as Boyd laughed.  
 
“Quarterback, you sick fuck. You? Striker?” he flipped Brian’s cock and Brian slapped at his hand. 
 
“Stopper.” 
 
They flopped down on the bed and Boyd nuzzled his way into Brian’s arms. “I’ve thought of 
nothing but you all day. Malpractice per se.” 
 
“All good thoughts?” 
 
“Frankly, not all. I was pissed to find out you went to New Orleans and didn’t tell me, but worse 
still, you didn’t tell Charlie. They could’ve thrown your beautiful ass in jail.” 
 
“Theodore strikes again.” 
 
“No, Bo told me. He covered for you. Why did you go there?” 
 
Brian tensed. “I had business.” 
 
“What kind of business?” 
 
“Personal business, Boyd,” 
 
Boyd raised himself to his elbow to stare at his lover. “Why so secretive?” 
 
“Why are you pushing so hard? We’ve discussed your boundaries with your family, but I have 
some boundaries too. I need room to be able to breathe.” 
 
“Breathe or trick?” 
 
Brian looked perplexed. “Trick? How did trick come into this? I wasn’t tricking.” 
 
Boyd grimaced and leaned over to kiss Brian’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Brian. You’re right. I’m boxing 
you in. It’s not fair, but this shit about your going to New Orleans on a whim is still wrong. You 
can’t do it. Okay? Not for any reason.” 
 
“Okay, okay, can we drop it now? I get it. There was no room in me to trick, Boyd. I didn’t go 
there to do that, but even if someone shook it in my face, my mind was cluttered with you. Don’t 
you know that?” 
 
“Cluttered?” Boyd repeated and Brian smiled. 
 
“In a positive, life affirming way.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “My secretary is disgusted with how cheerful I am.” 
 
“Ted wants to have me committed. I can see it in his eyes.” 
 
“Are we crazy, Brian?” 
 
“Probably, I certainly feel crazy. But let’s not over-think it. Can’t we just have fun with it?” 
 
“That’s what I want, too.” 
 
“It’s easier for me here because all of those well meaning friends of mine in Pittsburgh who take 
bets on how long a romance I’m in will last and then tell me how bad a person I am, and how I 
don’t deserve the person I’m with, and how I’m going to lose him with my shitty behavior, aren’t 
here to contaminate things. You know, I’m a lot of things but I’m not stupid, Boyd. I know myself 
pretty well, warts and all. I’ve had months on the road to think about my life and what I’m doing 
with it. It’s occurred to me that the intensity we’re feeling has something to do with the fact I 
may be going to jail for a very long time. And if I’m not going to jail, I have no roots to hold me 
here. I wondered if I felt free to really give in to things I’ve been feeling for you because I know 
there’s a built-in short shelf life, one way or the other.” 
 
Boyd sat up and stared at the handsome face of his lover. In the late afternoon glow from the 
windows, shaded by the lacy shadows of cypress limbs, Brian’s cat’s eyes took on a golden hue, 
his fine skin still flushed from their sexual exertion. Boyd had noticed how Brian’s lips, always rich 
in color, became raspberry pink during and after sex, mimicking the engorged tint of his cock. 
“I’ve thought that too, Brian. Maybe I was able to step out of that closet and give myself to you 
so completely because I knew deep down that it won’t have the complication of a long-term 
commitment. I can’t believe you’ll go to jail, but I do know you’ll leave here when you’re free. As 
painful as that is for me to think about, the beauty of what we’re sharing right now makes it 
worth the misery that’s coming. I think.” 
 
Brian reached up to spread a hand on Boyd’s cheek. “And then there’s the scary, unspeakable 
option we haven’t discussed.” 
 
“Which is?” 
 
“I don’t get convicted and something happens that keeps me from leaving.” 
 
Boyd looked shocked by that. “You mean I chain you up in the mill?” 
 
Brian laughed. “I was thinking something a little less Stephen King or is it Dean Koontz.” 
 
“Like what?” 
 
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter what. Think about it, Boyd. What would we do if the built in 
expiration we have in mind doesn’t roll around? What happens next?” 
 
Boyd laid back against Brian’s shoulder and said, “I guess we should talk to Murphy about that.” 
 
“Murphy? Who the hell is Murphy?” 
 
“Murphy St.Clair. She’s the divorce shark I hired on my sister’s advice. She’s legendary. I would 
want to get her advice on the impact of an openly homosexual partnership on custody. We 
discussed the gay implication briefly when I hired her over the phone, but I’d want to have a 
firmer idea in mind if I was coming all the way out.” 
 
“Would you even consider coming all the way out?” 
 
“For you? Haven’t I virtually done that, Brian? And yes, I would.” 
 
Brian leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He inhaled the clean scent of the shampoo Boyd 
used and closed his eyes as a feeling of contentment washed over him. “I know it’s all a pipe 
dream, but however it works out with us, I’m relieved that you’re standing up to that royal cunt 
you married, Boyd. That bitch has had enough time with your balls in her fist.” 
 
“I know. But I still feel very strongly about not compromising my children, Brian.” 
 
“I know you do. I wouldn’t want you any other way. Believe it or not, I think your kids are great.” 
 
“Because Belle has a crush on you?” 
 
Brian laughed. “All little girls get a crush on me. I appeal to pre-pubescent girls and gay men. 
How weird is that?” 
 
“I think your appeal goes deeper than that, Mr. Kinney.” 
 
“My appeal is spotty at best. Irresistible to a couple sub-classes, repellant to others.” 
 
The phone interrupted them and Boyd groaned. “It must be Ted. No one else knows we’re here.” 
 
“Are you nuts? Everyone in Canard Rouge knows where everyone else is at all times. Answer it.” 
 
Boyd picked up. Lorene. “I took a chance you’d be there when you didn’t answer your mobile. I 
tried the mill house, too.” 
 
“What do you want, Lorene?” 
 
“The school called.” The parish school offered a summer program for kids whose parents worked. 
It was the best day care available in the area and both Boyd and Bonnie preferred that interaction 
with other kids to having them at home with a nanny all summer. “Bonnie hasn’t fetched the kids 
and it’s past closing time.” 
 
“Did you try to reach her?” 
 
“No answer at her house and Jimmy says she went out about an hour ago.” 
 
“Tell the school I’m on my way.” 
 
He got up, went into the room where he left his clothes and began to dress. Brian followed. 
“What’s wrong?” 
 
“I’m sorry but Bonnie stranded the kids at school. It’s not the first time, although usually she’ll 
call and tell me to get over there. You’d better dress, Brian. I’ll drop you off at the B&B, otherwise 
you’re stranded here.” 
 
He picked up his own clothes, disappointed by the premature end of their reunion. “Will I see you 
later?” 
 
“Unless I get stuck with the kids, of course you will. Even if it’s late when I drop them off with 
her, I’ll call.” 
 
“Yeah, do.” 
 
“Passive aggression,” Boyd said with a shake of his head, disgusted by Bonnie’s recent behavior. 
Brian said nothing, wondering if that was all it was, his Irish instincts prickled by something he 
couldn’t quite identify. 
Current Mood: enthralled

Mar. 7th, 2005  04:18 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 46
 
“Daddy, I’m mad at Mama,” Belle announced as Boyd buckled her younger brother into his car 
seat. Boyd carefully regulated his response to that remark. He believed no matter what his 
feelings for Bonnie, it was essential that he leave the kids out of it. To him, she was his bitch ex-
wife, but she was still their mother.  
 
“Why is that, kid?” He asked as he started the engine.  
 
“Because she’s so mean to Brian and she won’t let me and Mac see him.” 
 
“Where’s Brian?” Mac echoed and Boyd sighed. 
 
“It’s complicated, honey. Mama has her reasons.” 
 
“Is he still your friend?” 
 
“Of course he is, Belle.” 
 
“Then why can’t we see him?” 
 
“Belle, you’ve only been around Brian a couple times. What makes him so special to you?” 
 
“He makes you happy, Daddy. He makes you smile.” 
 
Boyd felt his face color, surprised by that observation. Even his own children saw the difference 
Brian made in his life. Was he that transparent? Maybe they couldn’t put a name to what was 
happening between Brian and him, but they saw something. At least Belle did. While it made him 
happy on one level, it made him nervous on another. As he pulled up to the mill, he saw Bonnie’s 
Lexus SUV parked in his usual spot in the shade. She had gone inside to avoid the heat and he 
steeled himself for a scene as he shepherded the kids upstairs. Bonnie was seated on the leather 
sofa, staring up at Jared’s painting as she sipped a cold beer from his refrigerator.  
 
He said nothing to her at first, giving the kids juice boxes and peanut butter crackers before 
sending them to their room to play. Only then did he turn to their mother. “Where the hell were 
you?” 
 
“Turn on your cell phone, Boyd. Why is it off? It’s never off.” 
 
He grimaced. He turned it off when Ted pulled up to the cabin, wanting no interruptions during 
his reunion with Brian. He turned it on now and noted he had three messages pending. “You could 
have called my office.” 
 
“I did call your office. Lorene said she already reached you and you were on your way to get the 
kids. I also called the school to make sure they got picked up. I had to run an errand in Lafayette 
and I got caught in traffic behind a wreck on the highway. My stupid mobile was out of juice and I 
didn’t have the charger to plug in the lighter. I had to wait until I could exit and get to a phone 
and by then you had already picked them up. Shit happens, Boyd. It’s not as if the nuns are 
going to turn them out on the street. Worst case scenario, they charge me a late fee for picking 
them up after hours. So why wasn’t your cell on?” 
 
Her eyes bore into him and he shook his head. “What were you doing in Lafayette?” 
 
“None of your business.” 
 
“It’s my business if you strand my kids.” 
 
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I did. I abandoned my children. Get over yourself, Boyd. Have 
you thought any more about those paintings? God, they’re ugly. I don’t see what the art world 
sees in his work.” 
 
“Genius. My answer’s the same. You aren’t getting any of Jared’s work, Bonnie. If you don’t like 
that answer, call this number,” he scrawled Murphy’s number on a slip of paper and handed it to 
her. “My attorney.” 
 
She glared at him. “What lawyer?” 
 
“She specializes in domestic law. The gravy train’s over, Bonnie. I’m finished with you.” 
 
“You don’t want to do that, Boyd.” 
 
“No? You think what I told Rex is a hollow threat? You make it hard on me, I’ll ruin him with my 
family. Then what does he have to attract you?” 
 
“Rex?” She laughed. “You're such an idiot. That yankee boy has turned your brain to mush while 
turning your dick to steel. Boyd, since I’ve developed an interest in your old boyfriend’s work, I 
heard a rumor that he left a cache of work that’s never been discovered. What about that? You 
heard that rumor?” 
 
He said nothing, continuing to glare at her. She said, “Why would he do that? Why would he hide 
a bunch of his most recent work before he blew his brains out? I know he was crazy but…” 
 
“Jared wasn’t crazy, he was manic depressive. It’s an illness, Bonnie. And I have no idea what 
you’re talking about.” 
 
“I wonder. If he told anyone, it would be you.” 
 
“Jared and I had lost contact by the time he died. Where are you hearing this, anyway?” 
 
“I have my sources. We were divorced when he did it. Why didn’t you put it back together with 
him if you loved him so much?” 
 
“Other than the fact you were blackmailing me over the whole gay thing? None of your fucking 
business.” 
 
“Why didn’t you sell this shit if you no longer cared about him?” 
 
“I will always care about Jared, and I love his work. I’ll never sell it.” 
 
“Then give them to me and let me sell them. Your new boyfriend may not like having them 
around, true?” She grinned at him and he just shook his head.  
 
“Leave, Bonnie. And leave your key, while you’re at it.” 
 
“Boyd, you don’t want to play hardball with me, asshole. I’ll make your life a misery and you 
know I can.” 
 
“You have for years, Bonnie. Now it’s time to stop.” 
 
“I’ll tell you when it’s time to stop.” She stood and dropped the key to his door on the table, 
walking down the hall to fetch her children. 
 
********************************************************* 
 
Ted watched Brian pick at his food at the diner and frequently check his watch. Finally he said, 
“Are you expecting someone?” 
 
Brian looked up as if just now realizing he had a dining companion. Ted often experienced this 
invisibility with Brian Kinney. Sometimes he needed to hear his own voice just to reassure himself 
that he did indeed exist. “Huh?” Brian said, completely uninterested in what Ted said.  
 
“You aren’t eating, you keep looking at your watch. What’s up?” 
 
Brian shrugged. Stared out the window. Combed through his hair with his fingers. Glanced at his 
bowl of gumbo as if unaware of what it was. He picked up his spoon, grimaced. “It’s cold.” 
 
“Because it’s sat there for the last fifteen minutes, untouched.” 
 
Brian motioned to the cute waitress and asked her to reheat his soup. She snatched it away with 
a glare. She had come all the way around on Brian. From flirty to resigned to resentful. He had 
seen that before with women who found him attractive. They often seemed to resent the fact he 
was gay, as if it were a personal affront. His mobile rang and he quickly answered it, smiling with 
a radiance that meant it could only be Boyd. He turned away from the table, facing the window, 
as if he could close Ted out completely.  
 
“I’m at the diner with Ted. No, it’s okay. I’m finished.” 
 
Ted rolled his eyes, a gesture lost on Brian, who said, “I’ll meet you there. Okay, hurry.” He 
ended the call and put a ten dollar bill on the table. “I have to go,” he said to Ted who sighed. 
 
“Your soup is being re-heated.” 
 
“You can have it.” 
 
“Brian, you have to eat.” 
 
“Man doesn’t live by gumbo alone. Later, Teddy.” 
 
Ted watched him go and then waved as Bo entered in Brian’s wake. Bo dropped into Brian’s place 
as the waitress delivered the gumbo, confused by the switch in customers. “You read my mind, 
honey. Leave it right there. Thanks.” She gave him a winning smile reserved for grandfathers and 
favorite uncles. Bo shrugged, remembering the days when his blue eyes and big smile inspired a 
different reaction in women. “Did I see Brian walking out? Because he didn’t see me.” 
 
“He can’t see anything. He’s absolutely blind to everything but Boyd. It’s bizarre.” 
 
“Not his usual way?” 
 
“Bo, I can’t tell you how out of character it is for Brian. He’s just not like that. I feel as if he’s 
been replaced by a pod person.” 
 
“Well, he’s under an extreme amount of pressure. By losing himself in a relationship, he may be 
burying his fears about the murder charge by not allowing it any room in his thoughts.” 
 
“I didn’t think about that.” 
 
“I worry about Boyd. That’s really unfair to him if that’s what’s going on with Brian.” 
 
“Boyd has no clue how dangerous Brian is,” Ted frowned. “I don’t mean dangerous like he’s a 
killer, not at all, I mean dangerous like he’s not a lover boy.” 
 
“One thing I’ve learned in life, you can’t tell other people how to behave in their romantic life. 
So,on to other matters. Had a chance to look at the New Orleans bank records?” 
 
“Just starting, Bo. But there’s twenty grand, more or less, in that account. That’s a mess of 
money for a kid like Greg.” 
 
“It certainly is. How was it received?” 
 
“Still looking at that.” 
 
Bo nodded. “Interesting. What was he saving up for? And where did he get it? Still living at home, 
still driving a wreck of a car, he seems like the type who would spend every penny he got as soon 
as he got it. This is a big clue. I haven’t been able to talk to Bonnie Coulter. But I will. When they 
get elusive, I bear down.” 
 
“Do you think she could be involved?” 
 
Bo shrugged. “Why not? I think everyone could be involved. That’s where reasonable doubt is 
born.” 
 
Ted excused himself as he took a cell phone call. When he hung up, he beamed at Bo and said, 
“Good news, Brian’s best friend Michael is coming to visit.” 
 
“Why is that good?” 
 
“Someone needs to influence him and I’m not able to fill that role. He’s just acting so completely 
un-Brian like.” 
 
“So Brian asked him to come down?” 
 
Ted shrugged. “Not exactly. It’ll be a surprise.” 
 
Bo shook his head at him. “This doesn’t bode well.” 
 
“It’ll be great, you’ll see. Brian will be happy to see Michael. He always is.” 
 
Bo stared at Ted, wondering how he reached that conclusion when Bo was so convinced 
otherwise.  
 
********************************************************************* 
 
Brian paced the parlor of the B&B, waiting for Boyd to arrive. He quickly dismissed Peter and 
Jon’s offers of snacks, coffee, or company. The B&B was expecting new arrivals the following 
morning, so their preparations were complete. Brian smoked, paced, waited. When Boyd’s car 
pulled up, he tensed, ground out his smoke and met him on the porch. Jon and Peter stared out a 
window, watching Brian stand there, hands in the back pockets of his jeans as if he couldn’t trust 
himself not to touch Boyd if his hands were free, Boyd was equally restrained, but the hard lock in 
their eyes said it all. They walked into the house and Brian suddenly pushed Boyd against the wall 
and kissed him on the mouth.  
 
They seemed completely unaware of their audience as Brian extended Boyd’s arms above his 
head, pressing them to the wall by grabbing his wrists and pinning him there. His body covered 
Boyd’s and the heat seemed to roll off of them in visible waves. Boyd’s foot lifted to rest against 
the back of Brian’s calf and Jon and Peter resisted the urge to applaud. When they came up for 
air, Brian grabbed Boyd’s hand and led him upstairs at a run, causing a defeated sigh to go up 
from their hosts.  
 
In Brian’s room, they undressed each other and fell back on the bed. There was no talking, only 
touching, seeking. Boyd flipped Brian over so he could bury his face in Brian’s beautiful ass. Brian 
groaned as he felt Boyd’s tongue flick the sensitive tissues and then probe. He gripped the pillow 
in his fists and threw his head back as Boyd reached around and grabbed his erection in his fist.  
 
“Stop, stop,” Brian insisted, rolling on his side and tossing Boyd a condom. “Put this on me. I 
want to be in you.” 
 
Boyd did so, and soon they were where they both wanted to be, joined and frantically seeking the 
release of orgasm. Once again, their prior sexual exploration that afternoon seemed as if it 
happened in another lifetime. Relaxing in a tight embrace, Brian said, “I’ve always been highly 
sexed. But something about you sends me into warp speed.” 
 
Boyd smiled up at him. “A Star Trek reference?” 
 
“So?” 
 
“You’re a Trekkie?” 
 
“Shut the fuck up. That slang has entered the lexicon. I don’t worship at the altar of the 
Enterprise.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “You’re always so nervous about being found human.” 
 
“Human is degrading. I prefer superhuman.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “You do have certain superhuman qualities. Especially in this venue,” Boyd spread 
his hand across the sheets.  
 
“We’re like a couple of crazed muskrats.” 
 
“Are muskrats highly sexed?” 
 
“I don’t know, but it sounds right. So your ex showed up?” 
 
“Said she was in Lafayette and got stuck in traffic.” 
 
“What the hell?” 
 
“I don’t know. Let’s not bring Bonnie into this bed.” 
 
Brian smiled. “That sounds like a plan. That’s your mobile. Mine doesn’t play Blue Bayou.” 
 
Boyd retrieved it, stared at the caller ID and then rejected it. “It’s my parents. I think that can 
wait.” 
 
“We won’t be able to keep the world out of this forever, you know.” 
 
“We can try. I like living in our alternative universe.” 
 
Brian smiled. He liked it too, but he knew it would end, soon, and then they’d have to test the 
strength of what they shared when the wolves started tearing at their limbs. “Tell me about your 
trip to New Orleans,” Boyd insisted and Brian kissed his cheek as he whispered, 
 
“I bought my salvation.” 
Current Mood:  calm

Mar. 8th, 2005 04:09 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 47
 
Boyd watched Brian sleep. Night fell heavily in the swamp, ripe with bullfrogs and insects, audible 
even in the town. Normally, the drone was soothing to Boyd, helping him sleep. But now it 
seemed an annoying reminder of the difference in their worlds. His schooling, his tenure in 
Chicago and New Orleans, never really cleansed the swamp from Boyd. And if Brian lived here for 
decades, he would always be a cosmopolitan sophisticate. Brian didn’t stir under Boyd’s intense 
stare. He was exhausted. The sexual exertion between them would exhaust anyone. Boyd felt it 
too, but he couldn’t let go of the simple pleasure of watching Brian sleep. In profile against the 
pillow, lips slightly parted, thick lashes kissing his smooth cheek, he was beautiful. 
 
Boyd stretched out beside him, resting his face on Brian’s pillow, he whispered to him. “I love 
you, Brian Kinney. I love your beauty and your heat and your passion. I love your face and your 
skin and your eyes and your hair. I love your body and your dick and your ass. I love your sense 
of humor and your brilliance and your integrity. I love your feet and your hands and your mouth. 
I love the way you make me laugh. I love the way you make me come. I love everything about 
you. I even love your insecurity and your dark side and your fears.” 
 
Brian stirred and opened one eye as he said, “Would you love me if I killed Greg Willis?” 
 
Boyd smiled, deciding he was just as glad that Brian heard. “Yes, but I know you didn’t.” 
 
Brian raised himself on one elbow to stare at Boyd, reaching over to push his fair hair from his 
forehead. “What kind of person would love a murderer?’ 
 
“I don’t know,” Boyd trapped his hand and kissed it. “One with no self-esteem?” 
 
“That must be it. Why are you telling me this now?” 
 
“I wasn’t. I thought you were asleep.” 
 
“Was I snoring?” 
 
“No.” 
 
“Then I wasn’t asleep. Deviated septum.” 
 
“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?” 
 
“I wanted to hear you out.” 
 
“Are you freaked now? Running?” 
 
Brian smiled and pulled him into his arms. “Too tired to run.” 
 
“I’m not trying to rope you in. I’m not asking for a response.” 
 
“I think you know how I feel.” 
 
“Really? Do you know how you feel?” 
 
Brian sighed. “You’re such a fucking lawyer.” 
 
“I know you mean that in a good way,” Boyd teased and Brian kissed the top of his head.  
 
“I do know how I feel, by the way.” 
 
“Care to share?” 
 
“Can I pick my own time?” 
 
Boyd spread his hand on Brian’s pectorals. “Absolutely. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ve 
never been happier.” 
 
“Doing what I’m doing?” Brian turned to kiss him. “Like that?” 
 
Boyd slid his hands down Brian’s lean arms and said, “I’m too sore. I want you, I love you, but I 
am really sore. I’ll suck you, I’ll jerk you, I’ll hump you off, hell, I’ll even fuck you, if you want, 
but that dick of yours needs to stay away from my ass for just a little while. You understand? 
There’s not enough lube in the world to overcome the frequency we’ve been at it.” 
 
Brian laughed. “News flash, my dick is pretty sore too. I love your tight ass, I really do, but I 
think we’ve probably broken records.” 
 
“I know, but when I get close to you or just think about being close to you, the pain fades and 
the itch burns.” 
 
“For me, too. Right now, my cock is getting hard.” 
 
Boyd reached down and stroked Brian’s lengthening cock in his fist. Touching him made his own 
dick jump. Brian touched him and Boyd relaxed in his grip. They took their time, like young boys 
just discovering the miracles residing between their thighs. They came at almost the same 
moment and then Boyd got up to fetch a towel, cleaning himself off before he did the same for 
Brian and snuggled into his arms.  
 
“Are you asleep?” Brian whispered and Boyd laughed.  
 
“Am I asleep?” 
 
“Yes. Are you?” 
 
“Right, Brian. I’m asleep.” 
 
“In that case, I love you, too.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “I didn’t hear that, of course, because I’m asleep.” 
 
“Right. Only logical.” 
 
“But I’m dreaming that you said you love me.” 
 
“That’s nice. Is it a good dream?” 
 
“It’s a great dream.” 
 
“Then enjoy it. Goodnight, Boyd.” 
 
“Goodnight, Brian,” he whispered, needing nothing more from his lover. 
 
The next morning, Boyd awoke first and Brian was sleeping soundly, proved by his light snore, so 
he got up, showered, dressed and followed the delectable scent of frying bacon downstairs to the 
dining room. Ted was having breakfast with their hosts, a cheese quiche with bacon and sticky 
buns. They grew silent as Boyd entered their mix and poured himself some coffee. Boyd sat down 
at the table and asked, “I know I’m not really a guest, but I’m starving.” 
 
Jon jumped up to fix him a plate as Ted asked, “Where’s Brian?” 
 
“Sleeping.” 
 
A heavy silence descended and Boyd let them digest that and refused to be cowed by their 
curiosity and speculation. “I have a great surprise for him today,” Ted figured he could tell Boyd, 
since Michael was in the air by now, so his arrival was inevitable. “I’m flying in his best friend 
Michael and a little added surprise.” 
 
Boyd replaced his coffee cup on the table to stare at Ted. “Did you ask Brian about that?” 
 
“No, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I asked him.” 
 
“Exactly when did you decide Brian would enjoy a surprise like that?” 
 
“Michael has been Brian’s best friend since they were kids,” Ted defended. “You don’t get it. 
You’ve never seen them together.” 
 
“No, but I know about Michael. Brian’s told me. That has nothing to do with the fact he won’t be 
pleased by this surprise. In fact, I find it very passive aggressive. He’s said specifically that he 
doesn’t want you involving his friends in his issues.” 
 
“Brian has a life outside of you, Boyd,” Ted defended himself. “You may want to keep him isolated 
but he had a life before he met you.” 
 
“Isolated? Is that what you think? Because I think it has to do with honoring his wishes.” 
 
His breakfast was delivered, but Boyd’s appetite was suddenly gone. He was angry enough to 
smack Ted, but he refrained. “If you don’t tell him, I will. He has enough to worry about that he 
shouldn’t have to get blindsided by this shit from his so-called friends.” 
 
“So-called friends? Boyd, I hate to break it to you but you’re new on the Brian Kinney hit parade. 
His history is that you’ll be a forgotten memory by the time he hits Pittsburgh.” 
 
“Ted,” Jon said with a grimace, but then Brian’s voice intruded. Wrapped in a robe with his hair 
wildly rearranged by sleep, Brian walked over to Boyd and rested both hands on his shoulders as 
he glared at Theodore.  
 
“Who the hell are you to tell Boyd something like that? Who the hell are you to have any 
comment at all on my relationship with this man?” 
 
“Let it go, Brian,” Boyd reached up and covered his hands with his own. “I don’t need Ted to tell 
me what you feel for me.” 
 
“I’m not letting it go. I’ve seen it before. I’m sick of it. What is it with you and my other so-called 
friends that you have to poison anything good that comes my way? You have to tell anyone who 
will listen what a jerk I am and how I’m no good for them and it’ll never work. Well fuck you, 
Theodore. You can’t touch this one.” 
 
“Your friend Michael is arriving today, Brian. Ted invited him,” Boyd said quietly and the silence 
fell like a final curtain. 
 
 
Ted couldn’t cross the security boundaries to meet the plane, so he waited on the other side of 
baggage claim to greet the arrivals. The first person he saw was pint-sized. “Where’s Daddy?” 
Gus demanded as he ran up to Ted and let him scoop him up in his arms. He was closely followed 
by his mother, and then Michael, who was juggling several bags. Lindsay kissed Ted on the 
cheek, her fawn-like brown eyes suggesting her concern. “How is he?” 
 
Ted handed her Gus and helped Michael with the bags as he said, “Guys, he wants you to go 
back.” 
 
“Back?” Lindsay looked confused. “We just got here!” 
 
“That’s the point,” Ted sighed. “He doesn’t want you here. He’s furious with me.” 
 
Lindsay glared at him. “If he thinks I’m going to get back on a plane with this kid who has been 
gabbing non-stop about seeing Daddy, he’s crazier than I thought, Bullshit. We’re here. We’re 
queer, get over it. Come on, Michael. Let’s go.” 
 
“He doesn’t even want to see me?” Michael complained and Ted shrugged.  
 
“I did warn you that he might not be happy about this. I guess I underestimated how unhappy he 
is and I haven’t even told him about Lindsay and Gus. It seemed like a good idea to reunite him 
with his kid, but now I’m not so sure. He’s really mad.” 
 
“That’s just the way Brian acts to cover up his feelings,” Michael reminded them. “He always does 
this. He pretends he doesn’t care, doesn’t want something, when in fact it’s what he wants more 
than anything. He doesn’t want us to see him down, fighting this charge, but he needs our 
support.” 
 
Ted sighed. “He told me if you showed up at the B&B, he’d send me back, too.” 
 
“So we’ll stay somewhere else,” Michael said as Ted shook his head. 
 
“There is nowhere else, Michael. And that’s not the point. I don’t know what to do. I really think 
you should go back.” 
 
“Ted, either you drive Gus and me to Brian, or I’m taking a cab. You do what you want, Michael, 
but I’m going nowhere until my son sees his father.” Lindsay was intractable and Ted gave up.  
 
Michael decided if Lindsay were going, so too would he. They reclaimed Gus’s car seat from 
checked baggage and began the trip to Canard Rouge with Ted’s dread increasing with each mile 
closer to their target. 
Current Mood:  discontent


Mar. 9th, 2005 04:43 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 48
 
“Go to work,” Brian instructed Boyd after they were both showered and dressed and lounging 
around Brian’s room. 
 
“I hate to go before Ted gets here and we see if he can follow a simple instruction. I don’t want to 
abandon you.” 
 
Brian smiled at that and motioned him over, pulling him into his arms. “It might be better if you 
don’t witness the carnage if the Spineless One caves and brings Mikey here.” 
 
“Some sick little part of me would like to see that, Brian.” 
 
They kissed and Brian patted his ass. “I’ll fill you in later. In more ways than one. You have 
several hours to heal. I suggest you enjoy them.” 
 
Boyd smiled and let his hands wander over Brian’s ass. “If I don’t, maybe we’ll have to explore 
other options.” 
 
“Don’t get pretensions about being my top just because you have dreams about my saying gooey 
crap to you.” 
 
“If I told you I was asleep would you say it again?” 
 
“You first.” 
 
“I love you, Brian.” 
 
“Are you asleep?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“Then I love you too.” 
 
They kissed and Boyd smiled as he left his arms, their hands trailing the embrace, until finally 
even their fingertips were free of the other, leaving them both feeling a little incomplete. Only 
their gaze continued to hold. “Call me later,” Boyd said and Brian nodded, sitting down on the 
edge of the rumpled bed as Boyd left. He stared off into space, trying to better understand the 
emotions that flooded him when he was near Boyd, and the emptiness that took their place when 
they were apart. How much of this intensity was due to his Kafkaesque circumstances and how 
much was attributable to the simple fact of being in love? If it was love, how come it made him so 
damned happy? 
 
His brief experience with love had been as horrific as he always feared it would be. Would this be 
the same when it ended? The scariest part was that he couldn’t even picture himself after it 
ended. It was like he would cease to exist as a person once Boyd walked away from him for good. 
What if he never left? What then? Brian shook off those questions that had no answers and went 
downstairs to smoke on the porch and wait to see what Ted managed to accomplish.  
 
When the rental car pulled up to the curb and Brian saw more than one head inside the car, one 
of them blond, his stomach clenched, but then Lindsay emerged, and his anger was tinged with 
relief. Before he could react with an edict to turn around and go home, Gus was on the ground 
and running straight into Brian’s arms, yelling, “Daddy!” as he ran.  
 
Brian’s fury melted as he focused on his son and was surprised by how much he had missed the 
touch and scent of him, the texture of his baby skin, the feel of his little arms around his neck. He 
buried his face against Gus’s silky hair and inhaled his essence, unable to speak as his eyes 
closed. “Where you been, Daddy? This your new house?” 
 
Brian smiled and whispered, “I’ve been gone too long and no, this isn’t my house, Sonny Boy. 
This is just where we’re staying.” 
 
Gus wrapped his legs around Brian’s torso, as if determined not to let him go, and Brian allowed 
himself to be kissed by both Michael and Lindsay. His glare at Ted permitted no such intimacy. 
Inside the house, Jon and Peter settled the new visitors into rooms as Brian sat downstairs with 
Gus. Ted took advantage of Brian’s son’s presence to explain away his failure. “I tried to tell them 
to go back, but Gus had to see you, Brian. They promised him.” 
 
“You let them bring my son into this mess? This mess? These people? How could you do that, 
Ted? Do you not see how hard this is for me?” 
 
“I miss you, Daddy.” Gus crawled up on Brian’s lap again after exploring the room. Brian’s 
expression softened as he looked at his boy.  
 
“I missed you too, kiddo.” 
 
“Brian, I…”  
 
“Right now it’s best that you not say a fucking word, Theodore.” 
 
Ted made a zipper motion across his lips as Michael bounded down the stairs and flopped beside 
Brian on the couch. 
 
“You look great! I guess I didn’t expect such a…glow. I thought you’d be a little more haggard 
and haunted.” 
 
“Due no doubt to Theodore’s exaggerations. I’m fine, Mikey. I meant it when I said I don’t need 
you to come down here. I want you guys to plan on returning tomorrow.” 
 
“Brian, we want to help.” 
 
“There’s nothing you can do to help me, Mikey. I’ve got the top people out there doing their best 
to resolve these issues. If they can’t help me, no one can.” 
 
“Some local lawyer who has a crush on you?” Michael screwed up his face in a grimace as Brian 
tensed. 
 
“Potty, Daddy,” Gus suddenly announced and Brian handed him off to Ted to take care of that 
function. Ted rolled his eyes and took Gus’s hand, leading him towards the bathroom as Brian 
glared at his best friend. 
 
“Let’s just get this out of the way, Michael. Boyd Coulter is not my lawyer on this case. I’ve hired 
a specialist from New Orleans to defend me. And he is the best. His investigator, Bo, has already 
turned up a bunch of important facts. Having said that, Boyd is…important to me. Very important 
to me. You need to accept that fact right up front. And move on. I won’t tolerate any effort to 
create a rift between Boyd and me. You understand what I’m saying? There’s no room between 
us, so don’t try to create any.” 
 
“Brian, I….” 
 
“Just indicate you understand what I’m saying.” 
 
“I don’t understand, Brian.” 
 
“Where’s Gus?” Lindsay sat down on the other side of Brian, noticing how he flinched when she 
stretched her arm across his shoulders.  
 
“Having a piss.” 
 
“What don’t you understand, Michael?” She asked and Michael sighed. 
 
“What it is Brian thinks he feels for this one horse town lawyer.” 
 
Brian shrugged off Lindsay’s arm and stood up, his back to the ornate fireplace mantle as he 
faced them both. “Don’t start by indicating I’m too stupid or stunted to be able to know how I feel 
about someone, or to know what it means. Fuck you, Michael. I do have feelings and you of all 
people should know that because you’re the one person in this world I’ve allowed myself to be 
honest with, emotionally. So how dare you suggest I have no heart, no ability to care.” 
 
“I-I’m not saying that, Brian,” he tried to correct the boat, but Brian wouldn’t let him. 
 
“That’s exactly what you’re saying. What you all say. ‘Oh, it’s just Brian being Brian and we all 
know Brian is incapable of anything other than tricking’. Wrong. Wrong about Justin, and wrong 
now. You were all against any hope Justin and I had of making it as a couple and when he 
brought a replacement in for me, you were relieved and welcoming to that person because it 
meant Justin could be happy with someone who deserved him and ol’ Brian could go back to your 
image of who I am. All was right with your world again. If I was in pain, so be it. How deep could 
it cut, anyway, when I had no real feelings for anyone but myself?” 
 
He cut a glare at the blonde as she started to speak. “Shut up, Lindsay. I know what you’re dying 
to say, but you were as bad as any of them. In fact, the two of you were the worst of the lot, 
because I had a relationship with each of you that went beyond the superficial. You know, neither 
of you are ever going to have me. Lindsay, you aren’t ever going to be Mrs. Brian Kinney, for 
obvious reasons and I’m not sure you’ve reconciled yourself to that fact completely, even now. 
And Michael, you aren’t going to be Mrs. Brian Kinney, either. I love you, but I’ll never love you 
romantically. That’s just not how it is with us. Both of you have partners, people you love, people 
you chose to make a life with. I just exist on the periphery of that, like some old movie you take 
out of the box to replay occasionally so you can revive emotions you’ve outgrown. Well, I took 
myself out of that box, now. And I’m never going back. And if you try, just try, to fuck things up 
with Boyd, no matter how subtly, I’ll crucify you both.” 
 
There was a moment of stunned silence and then Michael spoke, “Why would we want to hurt 
you, Brian? It’s not like that. We just don’t know this guy and we think that you’re in no frame of 
mind to be making big decisions with so much hanging over you.” 
 
“We fear that he’s taking advantage of you, Brian,” Lindsay chimed in. “We don’t want to see you 
hurt. Again.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Really? That’s rich. You took such delight in my being hurt the first time. I 
remember walking into that diner the day after Justin left me and listening to you guys laugh 
about it. I’ll give Michael credit. He wasn’t laughing. But you were. Even you, Lindsay. And 
Michael, you hated Justin being in my life so much that I can’t really say your refusal to 
participate in that bashing was based in your affection for me. I reacted exactly the way you 
expected me to react, but I took notes. I wrote it down in my head. I said, ‘these are the people 
who say they’re your friends’.” 
 
“You were terrible to Justin,” Lindsay defended and Brian nodded. 
 
“You were always so ready to leap to that conclusion. You don’t know everything, and you don’t 
have a right to know. In my own way, I tried. I followed the rules he set. I tried to be his partner, 
but it didn’t work. He’s the one who stepped out on me. He broke the rules, almost from the 
beginning. And he lied. But he was young and he wanted things I couldn’t or wouldn’t give him, 
so I don’t really blame Justin. Shit happens. But when it does, you think maybe your friends will 
be there to support you, but not in my case. You were all relieved that the threat of Brian being 
partnered up had passed. Your world view returned to normal.” 
 
“Brian, that’s not fair!” Michael complained. Ted re-entered the room, having taken Gus to get a 
treat from the kitchen after the bathroom break. Gus sensed the tension and wandered up to 
Brian, who said to Ted, 
 
“Why don’t you take him out on the porch and show him the porch swing?” 
 
At that moment, Ted would’ve done anything Brian requested of him. He led Gus out as Brian 
turned his attention to Michael, who went on. “I did support you. I did think Justin was terrible to 
you.” 
 
“Yeah, that was your tactic, Mikey. From the start, Justin was too young for me, too pushy, too 
wrong. You were thrilled to be able to tell me he was cheating on me with Ethan and then try and 
cut him out completely when we hit the wall. The others cut me out, instead. Yeah, you, too 
Lindsay. You were only too happy to have Ethan in your home, even though you must have 
known how it would hurt me. Not at a time when I wouldn’t have to face it, but at a time when it 
would confront me and everyone who knew Justin and I as a couple, all at once. Michael tried to 
go the other way, but you were equally selfish, Mikey. I became an inconvenience to you, when I 
was lonely and in pain. You didn’t want Justin in my life, but you didn’t intend to fill any void for 
me, either. All that’s history, now. What matters to me is Boyd, and you people aren’t going to 
fuck that one up for me. I won’t allow it.” 
 
“You don’t think it was a little fast, Brian?” Lindsay persisted. “And under horrible circumstances?” 
 
“I don’t think you get to tell me how long it should take me to care for someone, Lindsay. And the 
circumstances would try a strong and pre-existing relationship. If a new one can prosper at times 
like this, it must mean something.” 
 
“We’re just afraid he’s using you, Brian,” Michael explained. “Taking advantage while you’re 
trapped here and scared.” 
 
“Using me for what? Sex? He doesn’t have to sweet talk me to have sex with me, we all know 
that. Money? Boyd’s got more money than I ever will. What exactly is he using me for?” 
 
“I don’t know, but…” 
 
“Exactly. You don’t know. So don’t invent shit.” 
 
“We just want you to be happy, Brian,” Lindsay pleaded. “Out from under this cloud and back at 
home.” 
 
“Home? You mean Pittsburgh? Other than Gus, what do I have there to make me return? No 
business. No family that I claim. I do better with you guys when I know you at arm’s length. I 
don’t have a home right now. And yeah, I want to be out from under this cloud, too, Lindsay. I 
want my life back. But when that happens, if that happens, I suspect my decisions will center 
around two people: Gus and Boyd. And Boyd has his own children, his own issues.” 
 
“He has children?” Michael seemed shocked by that fact and Brian nodded. 
 
“Two, and they’re very important to him.” 
 
“Do you really see yourself as part of a ready-made family?” Lindsay asked as Gus burst into the 
room and ran into Brian’s arms, having satisfied his quotient of Ted-time. Brian scooped him up 
and said, 
 
“I am part of a family, Lindsay. Maybe you’d like to forget my part in this one’s life, but I am part 
of a family, and Boyd is part of me. Let’s go for a walk, Sonny Boy. I need a break.” 
 
“Brian…” Michael called after him, but Lindsay held onto his arm as he started to stand up. 
 
“Let them go, Michael. We need to talk. I think this is much worse that we expected.” 
 
Michael flopped back on the sofa as Brian paused on the porch to glare at Ted. “We’ll talk later.” 
 
“Brian, I meant well.” 
 
“I don’t care what you meant. But we’ll talk later,” he helped Gus negotiate the steps and then 
held to his hand as they walked down the block together. 
Current Mood:  aggravated


Mar. 10th, 2005 04:08 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 49
 
Boyd dreaded lunch as he walked to the diner to meet Brian. All Brian would tell him about it was, 
“I’m with a visitor from Pittsburgh that I think you should meet. He means a lot to me, so you 
may as well face the music and get it over with.” 
 
Boyd wasn’t sure whom to dread most. The best friend Michael who was secretly in love with 
Brian, or so Brian believed. Or Justin, the former lover, the one Boyd feared still held a secret 
portion of Brian’s heart in his fist. Either way, he felt that his delicate relationship with Brian was 
at risk. When he walked in from the heat and saw Brian seated in a booth with a handsome child 
who was his miniature, Boyd wavered between annoyance at Brian’s deliberate hoax and absolute 
relief. He settled on a glare for Brian and a smile for Gus as he sat across from them and held out 
his hand to the boy. 
 
“Hi, you must be Gus. I’m Boyd. I’m a friend of your Dad’s.” 
 
Gus shook Boyd’s hand and looked curiously at him. “Boy?” 
 
“Boyd, with a ‘duh’ at the end, and don’t say a word, Brian. Hope you enjoy your night off 
because that wasn’t even funny.” 
 
Brian smirked at him. “I know you better than that.” 
 
Gus was building a fortress with cracker packages and he went back to his construction, as Boyd 
said, “Did you know your son was coming?” 
 
“No,” they paused to order from Suzy who was now completely perplexed by the introduction of 
Brian’s lookalike son into the mix. In her black and white world, gay men didn’t father children.  
 
“You’re pretty,” Gus told her and she beamed at him. 
 
“So are you, sweetie. He’s just a doll.” 
 
Brian smiled and nodded as she left with their order and then said to Boyd, “I worry so much 
about Gus. He’s showing signs of growing up straight.” 
 
They both laughed. Brian went on, “Bringing my kid into this mess really pisses me off. I’m 
thrilled to see him, but having him here, given the trouble I’m in, really doesn’t excite me.” 
 
“He won’t understand the nuances, Brian. He’s really adorable.” 
 
“He is, isn’t he?” Brian ruffled his son’s hair and Gus reached up to smooth it, casting him an 
annoyed glance. So like Brian, Boyd thought. “I’ve really missed him.” 
 
“Of course you have. So how did it go with the others and who else arrived?” 
 
“Michael and Lindsay, Gus’s mother.” 
 
Boyd winced. “Heavy artillery.” 
 
“I gave them the initial blast, no holds barred. As I talked to them, I realized how much repressed 
anger I’ve been brewing since that stupid Rage party a couple years ago. I guess it’s been there 
under the self-hatred and self-blame that I’ve nurtured over time. I just unloaded on them.” 
 
“With Gus there?” Boyd winced and Brian shook his head.  
 
“I made Ted play Mary Poppins. He didn’t hear any of it.” 
 
“What are you going to do with Ted?” 
 
Brian shrugged as their drinks and a basket of crusty French bread and butter were delivered. 
Gus reached for it, and Brian pried off a heel of the loaf and handed it to him. “Budda,” Gus 
motioned to the spread and Brian shook his head. 
 
“Butter is bad for you, Gus. Makes Gus fat.” 
 
Gus stared at his father, then gave it up and chewed on the bread as he continued with his 
construction. Brian returned his attention to Boyd. “I know what I want to do. I want to fire Ted 
and send him back with the others.” 
 
“Understandably. He deliberately disobeyed a direct command from you, and it was a real 
invasion of your privacy. I’m sure he meant well, but…” 
 
“But what?” 
 
“Honestly, Brian, I feel a little attacked by this stunt. Ted doesn’t exactly make it a secret that he 
doesn’t buy your…” he glanced at Gus. “Our friendship, and I feel like he brought them here to 
talk sense to you about it. How do you suppose that makes me feel? He’s constantly undermining 
us, by telling me what a bad bet you are, and by telling you that you don’t know your own mind. 
What’s that all about? Why can’t your friends just let you be happy?” 
 
He smiled. “Boyd, they can’t stop me. Not this time. But in their defense, I think they view it as 
some kind of temporary insanity on my part. Maybe they’re right. But as the song says, it just 
may be a lunatic you’re looking for.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “It may be, you’re right. As long as you feel you can withstand this intervention or 
whatever it is, I certainly can, Brian. But I’m not a horrible person. I’m not the worst person you 
could bring into your life. I wish they’d just give me a chance.” 
 
“You know what?” Brian leaned over the table to talk quietly to him. “Fuck them. This is between 
you and me. I told them there’s no room between us and I mean it.” 
 
Boyd smiled, resisting the urge to touch him, to connect, using the warmth of his gaze to 
substitute for a hug and a kiss. “What’s dat?” Gus asked as the plate of fried popcorn shrimp was 
delivered to him and his father smiled.  
 
“Alligator toes.” 
 
Gus’s big eyes grew wider and Boyd laughed and shook his head at Brian’s wry sense of humor.  
 
************************************************************* 
 
On Royal Street, in New Orleans, Artie Hall watched the man stand at the glass outside his 
gallery, staring at the poster of Jared. Dressed in his Armani suit, bespoke shoes and 18k gold 
signet cufflinks, Artie learned long ago not to judge a potential buyer by his appearance. White 
people were weird. They could have a fortune and be sophisticated collectors while dressing like 
Wal Mart victims and talking like backwoods hicks. 
 
His sleek, model-beautiful assistant glanced at Artie. “Tourist?” 
 
“No. He’s here on purpose, not random at all.” 
 
“How can you tell?” 
 
“Experience. I’ll handle this one.” 
 
“He doesn’t look like he’d be interested in abstract art.” 
 
Artie grinned at her. She was pretty, but she still didn’t get it. The customer walked into the 
gallery, leaving behind the humidity and stale smells of the city for the chilled, glossy interior, 
with electronic music playing at a low volume. The assistant offered him a flute of champagne, 
which he refused, and Artie introduced himself with a handshake. Bo gave him his name and 
shook his hand firmly. He then turned to the art displayed on the white walls and said, 
 
“I like these paintings. Very energetic and colorful.” 
 
“Yes, Jared was a genius.” 
 
“Are you sort of like Vincent Van Gogh and his art dealing brother?” 
 
Artie smiled, apparently liking that comparison. But unlike the Van Gogh’s, he never gave his 
brother a dime of support. He wouldn’t even display his work in his gallery during his lifetime. “I’d 
like to think I’ve been instrumental in seeing that his legacy lives on.” 
 
“At no small profit to you, it would appear,” he looked around and Artie’s mood shifted slightly as 
Bo said, “You know Rodrigue?” 
 
“The artist?” 
 
“The lawyer.” 
 
“Yes, I’ve heard of him. Why?” 
 
“I work for him. I’m an investigator.” 
 
Artie’s mood was now in complete retreat. “What are you investigating?” 
 
“A murder.” 
 
Artie motioned for the stunned and stunning assistant to go to their office, and leave them alone. 
He then smiled at Bo with chilling intensity. “I’m an art dealer. I’ve learned a thing or two about 
forgery and bad checks in my time, but I’m afraid murder is outside my experience.’ 
 
“Is that right?” 
 
“Who was killed?” 
 
“A man named Greg Willis.” 
 
“Never heard of him.” 
 
“He lived in a small town called Canard Rouge. Ever heard of that?” 
 
Artie shrugged. “I’m a native, my man. I’ve heard of all of the picturesque backwaters in 
Louisiana. Why are you talking to me?” 
 
“Do you know a man named Boyd Coulter?” 
 
Artie nodded. “I know Boyd. He was a friend of my brother’s.” 
 
“Describe ‘friend’.” 
 
“You know what the word means. I don’t need to be a dictionary. Is Boyd in trouble?” 
 
“Have you been in touch with Boyd Coulter since your brother’s death?” 
 
“What does Boyd have to do with this?” 
 
“You can’t answer that question?” 
 
“I can, but why should I?” 
 
“What’s your answer, Mr. Hall?” 
 
“I’ve been in touch with Boyd, off and on. Mainly to try and dislodge some of Jared’s work that he 
holds.” 
 
“You mean buy it for resale?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“Any luck?” 
 
“Not so far. Look, where is this going?” 
 
“What happens when you sell that last painting of your brother’s? Since he’s dead, there’s only so 
much work, right? When it’s gone, what do you do?” 
 
“I represent other artists,” Artie said with a cold glare. “Jared’s just one of them.” 
 
“Really? How big a percentage of your portfolio is represented by your late brother?” 
 
“That’s really none of your fucking business.” 
 
“Doesn’t matter. I think I can figure it out. Do you know Bonnie Coulter?” 
 
“She’s the girl Boyd married.” 
 
“Have you ever spoken to her?” 
 
“I’ve let it be known that if she comes into possession of any of Boyd’s paintings, I’d take them 
off her hands for a pretty penny.” 
 
“I see. When was that?” 
 
“I don’t know, and I’m tired of talking to you. You aren’t the police and I don’t have to waste my 
time with you. If you aren’t interested in buying, you can go now.” 
 
Bo smiled. “I’ll go, but it’s not over.” 
 
“Next time you’d better find a way to compel me to talk to you, because I don’t have time for this 
crap.” 
 
“Not a problem. Plenty of ways to do that, Mr. Hall. Thanks for your time.” 
 
“Hey, one thing. I’ve never exploited my brother’s relationship with Boyd Coulter. I know Boyd 
has issues. But if you want to play hardball with me, I have some weapons of my own. And he’s 
the target.” 
 
“Is that a threat, Mr. Hall?” 
 
“That’s a fact.” 
 
Bo left the gallery and walked across the Square to Decatur and down Decatur to the law offices. 
He was greeted warmly by the receptionist. He had an office in the suite, but he went to visit 
Lisette instead of going there. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a cup of coffee. As 
he sipped it, he smiled at her and said, “When are you going to give men a second chance, 
Lisette, you gorgeous creature?” 
 
She laughed. “When I do, you’ll be the first one I’ll call, Bo.” 
 
“In my dreams. How is Rod’s trial going?” 
 
“Great, we’re winning. He’s in trial today. Sorry he missed you. How goes the Brian Kinney 
matter?” 
 
“I’m absolutely convinced he didn’t do it, not that I ever thought he did. No motive. But I’m being 
overrun with potential suspects and you need to know, some of them may hit close to home.” 
 
She shrugged. “Do you mean Boyd?” 
 
“Do you suspect Boyd?” Bo asked. 
 
“Boyd is incapable of violence. If he were, Bonnie would be mold by now.” 
 
Bo laughed. “I have to agree with that. I checked Boyd out. Given the fact he and Greg shared a 
sexual orientation, I looked into the possibility of a hook up, but I couldn’t connect those dots. 
Boyd’s not the only person in your family, however. I just didn’t want you to be surprised by 
anything that turns up.” 
 
“Bo, you know what Rod always says. Start with the truth and work backwards. I want the truth, 
no matter what.” 
 
He nodded, knowing that would be her response. But even someone as strong as Lisette may find 
the truth hard to swallow if his instincts were accurate.
Current Mood: determined


Mar. 11th, 2005 03:39 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 50
 
This is probably the last post for a couple days. We leave tomorrow, long trip home and will be 
jet-lagged and without connectivity. It will probably be Sunday before I post again. If not later. 
Thanks for reading. Brian 
 
Gus was asleep with his head on Brian’s shoulder when they returned to the B&B to find three 
stony faces staring at them. Brian said nothing to Ted, Michael and Lindsay as he took Gus 
upstairs and tucked him in the rollaway bed Peter and Jon put in Lindsay’s room for his use. Brian 
kissed him on the cheek, smoothed his hair and sighed as he reluctantly left him to face the 
others.  
 
“Did you make travel arrangements?” Brian asked as he entered the parlor and Michael answered, 
obviously having been appointed spokesperson for the trio. 
 
“You can’t make us leave, Brian. We know your tricks. You push people away and push people 
away and then act like you’ve been abandoned. Well, not this time. You need us. Admit it.” 
 
“I need you to be back in Pittsburgh, where you belong,” he said, slumping into a chair. “Like 
tomorrow.” 
 
“Well, I’m not going,” Lindsay pouted, placing a chintz pillow behind her neck. “Not until I feel like 
things are under control.” 
 
Brian laughed with a cynical shake of his head. “Yeah, Linds, you can fix everything by hanging 
around. Get the charges dropped against me, fix Boyd’s custody issues, everything. Why did I 
waste so much money on lawyers when I could have just called Lindsay Peterson to come down 
here and get things sorted out for me? What a fool I’ve been.” 
 
“I don’t need your fucking sarcasm, Brian. Why can’t you let us help?” 
 
“Because you can’t help. You can’t fix this, Lindsay. None of you can. All you can do is step on my 
relationship with Boyd and fuck that up. Given that it’s the only bright spot in my entire life, I’m 
not risking it so you people can get your jollies by telling yourselves you saved Brian from 
himself. Again. And then go back to your safe little lives until I take a run at someone new for you 
to save me from. No thanks. Not interested.” He lit a cigarette and said, “Look, I appreciate your 
concern. I do. I’ll take it at face value. I think you might even mean well. But this isn’t helping 
me.” 
 
“What would?” Michael insisted and Brian shrugged. 
 
“Wish me well, go home, don’t gossip about me and take care of my kid.” 
 
“Brian, you need people who care about you to be around when you go through this trial or 
whatever happens. You can’t do this alone.” 
 
“I’m not alone, Mikey. I have Boyd. And Boyd loves me.” 
 
“He loves you?” All three said in unison and Brian smirked at them. 
 
“That’s right. And here’s a shocker, I feel the same way about him.” 
 
Ted gave his two co-horts an “I told you so” look and Michael finally said, “You just met him. How 
can you be in it so deep?” 
 
“It’s been awhile, Mikey, and even if it hasn’t, who cares? It is what it is.” 
 
“And when this murder charge gets dropped or whatever, what then, Brian?” Lindsay insisted. 
“Where does that leave you two?” 
 
“That’s between Boyd and me.” 
 
“I want to meet this Superman,” Michael said with a stubborn cross of his arms over his chest and 
just then, the door opened and Boyd walked in. He saw the look of apprehension on Brian’s face, 
and smiled. The others looked from Boyd to Brian, to Ted, seeking confirmation. Ted nodded. 
Brian stood as Boyd said, 
 
“Am I interrupting something?” 
 
“What are you doing here?” Brian demanded and Boyd shrugged. 
 
“I got some time off and I decided I’d like to meet your friends. Is that okay?” 
 
Brian’s expression suggested it was not okay, but he introduced them to each other. Boyd shook 
Lindsay and Michael’s hands, nodded at Ted and said, “I’d like to invite you all to dinner at my 
place tonight. And Gus too, of course. Nothing fancy, but allow me to extend some Southern 
hospitality your way.” 
 
“Boyd,” Brian warned and Boyd smiled at his lover. He walked over to him and slid a hand down 
his biceps, interweaving his fingers with Brian’s.  
 
“I’m getting Madam Dhue to help me, so the food will be great.” 
 
“I’ll come with you,” Brian offered but Boyd declined.  
 
“You spend the day with your friends. Why don’t you come over around six? Ted, you can drive 
everyone, right?” 
 
Ted nodded and Boyd glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting with a couple to go over their will. 
I have to run. See you this evening. Nice to have met you two.” 
 
“I’ll walk you out,” Brian still held his hand as they left together, but on the porch, they released 
their grip in case anyone drove by. The emotion was heavy between them as Brian asked, “What 
the fuck are you up to?” 
 
“It’s the polite thing to do when your lover’s friends come in from out of town. You open up your 
house to them and you feed them. That’s what Southern people do.” 
 
“I never wanted them around you.” 
 
“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” 
 
Brian chuckled and combed nervous fingers through thick hair. “I don’t want them to poison the 
well.” 
 
“You think there’s anything they can say about you that will make me love you less?” 
 
Brian met his eyes and shrugged. Boyd reached out to gently trace his cheekbone with his 
knuckle and then said, “Not possible. It will be fine, Brian. Don’t obsess over it. It’s just dinner.” 
 
“I never wanted these two worlds to collide.” 
 
“If we have any plans for a future, that collision was inevitable. Now go make nice with your 
friends and I’ll see you at six.” 
 
“Shit, Boyd.” 
 
“And plan on staying over,” Boyd invited, bringing a genuine smile from Brian for the first time.  
 
“For dessert?” 
 
“Just desserts, maybe. No, I’ll need the help cleaning up.” 
 
“I don’t work for free.” 
 
“I’ll think of something to repay you.” 
 
Brian shook his head. “Cockteaser. How much time do you have right now?” 
 
“Not enough.” Boyd winked at him, waved and left Brian standing there on the porch.  
 
Brian had been sullen throughout the drive to Boyd’s house, and so was Michael. Only Lindsay 
and Gus seemed animated, going back and forth in some sing-song that grated on everyone’s raw 
nerves. The imposed silence between Ted and Brian deepened.  
 
“Where the fuck does he live? I thought you said he was rich,” Michael complained. “Why does he 
live out in the boonies?” 
 
“This whole town is boonies,” Ted reminded him and Brian said nothing. His stomach hurt, He was 
terrified of this evening, of exposing Boyd to his friends, of their poisonous opinions, of having 
anyone intrude into the sphere of happiness he had carved with Boyd out of this hostile 
environment.  
 
“How old is he anyway?” Michael persisted. “He looks really young to be a lawyer.” 
 
“He’s my age, Mikey,” Brian said with a glare over the seat at him. “Don’t look for parallels. The 
only things they have in common are blond hair and gender.” 
 
“He would be a blond,” Michael grumped as Brian shook his head and glared out the window. 
When they approached the mill, Brian noted the Canard Rouge Plantation vehicle, and Homer 
Dhue waved as he helped his wife into the SUV, her work done. Brian waved back. As they 
parked, the Dhue’s drove away.  
 
“He lives in a sugar mill?” Michael stated the obvious and Brian said nothing, leading the way up 
the stairs with Gus straddling his hip. Boyd greeted them at the door, his hands on the shoulders 
of his own son, who stared first at Brian, and then at Gus.  
 
“Brian!” he hugged his thigh and Brian smiled and reached down to pat his head in greeting.  
 
“Hi ya, Mac. Is your sister here?” 
 
“Belle had a game,” Boyd explained. “I thought Gus might enjoy meeting Mac. Just a year 
between them.” 
 
“Bonnie loosened up?” Brian asked and he shrugged. 
 
“She needed a babysitter. It worked out. Come in, come in, everyone.” 
 
Mac led Gus to his room where the toys resided and the others stepped in, greeted by low volume 
techno on the sound system and strategically placed candles to soften the space. A vase of fresh 
gardenias filled the room with scent and Brian cast his lover a sly smile at the effort he put into 
this event. Boyd smiled back. “Drinks?” He went over to the bar and fulfilled their orders as 
Lindsay stared at the painting above the mantle.  
 
“Is that Jared Hall?” 
 
“It is,” Boyd handed her the first drink, a titty pink Cosmopolitan.  
 
“It’s absolutely fabulous!” 
 
“My favorite of his is in the bedroom, through there. Feel free to have a look,” she took him up on 
the offer, following the direction he pointed out. They all had drinks by the time she emerged and 
they were munching on canapés served on a square art glass tray. She regarded Boyd with 
admiration as she said, 
 
“Did you start collecting his work early on? I saw the one in the bathroom, too. Fantastic 
collection. His work is so hard to come by and so popular.” 
 
“Jared was my boyfriend,” Boyd said bluntly as he sat beside Brian on the couch, casually resting 
a hand on Brian’s thigh, bringing a glare from Michael. Lindsay looked stunned. 
 
“You’re kidding.” 
 
“No. Years before he died. He gave me these when we were together.” 
 
“Who is Jared Hall?” Michael insisted, and Brian sighed. 
 
“Famous artist, Mikey. Gay, obviously. He died a few years ago.” 
 
“Shot himself,” Ted added bringing a crashing silence into the room. “Well, he did!” he defended 
himself as Boyd nodded. 
 
“Jared had severe problems with manic depression, suffered from it since he was a kid. It finally 
overcame him.” 
 
“You kind of go for guys who need to be fixed in some way?” Michael baited him and Brian 
tensed. Boyd’s hand pressed into Brian’s thigh to restrain him as he answered the question. 
 
“I’ve gone for two guys in my life, Michael. Jared and Brian. They couldn’t be more opposite, so I 
guess I don’t have a type.” 
 
“Unlike Brian, who is fatally attracted to blonds,” Michael observed with a sneer.  
 
“Lucky us,” Lindsay tried to make a joke of it and Brian got up to refresh his drink as Boyd said, 
 
“From what Brian’s told me, Justin and I have little in common.” 
 
“He told you about Justin?” 
 
“Enough,” Brian intervened. “Enough!” 
 
“It’s okay, Brian,” Boyd reassured him. “Of course he told me about Justin, Michael. Just as I’ve 
told him about Jared. It’s what lovers do. You tell each other about your past mistakes, so you 
don’t repeat them.” 
 
“So now Justin’s a mistake?” Michael jumped on that and Brian glared at him. 
 
“Not as a person, but mistakes were made in that relationship,” he sat beside Boyd again and 
stretched an arm across his shoulders. “I don’t intend to fuck this one up the way I did that one.” 
 
Boyd smiled and nuzzled his cheek. “I’d better go stir the she-crab soup the way I was instructed 
to do. Sit tight.” 
 
“Back the fuck off,” Brian hissed at Michael as Boyd went into the kitchen and Michael feigned 
innocence.  
 
“I thought he was in the closet. He certainly has a history for a closeted fag.” 
 
“Yeah. One guy. Huge portfolio,” Brian seethed as Lindsay got up to check on the boys.  
 
Dinner conversation veered away from relationships, and there were even a few laughs as Michael 
related a couple funny stories from the adolescence he shared with Brian. They all raved over the 
menu, each course prepared with Madam Dhue’s elegant touch, from the soup to the etoufee to 
the bread pudding with hard sauce. Boyd took no credit for any of it, offering them chicory coffee 
and brandy as they retreated to the main room, leaving the dishes on the table at his insistence. 
“I have help coming in later,” he teased, with a glance at Brian who laughed. 
 
“Slave wages.” 
 
“Complaining about the benefits now?” Boyd reached over to kiss his cheek and Brian turned it 
into a real kiss, his hand on the back of Boyd’s neck, his eyes closed as their lips met and parted. 
The others stared and then a knock at the door interrupted. Boyd went to answer it and Bonnie 
was on the other side. 
 
“I’ve come for Mac.” 
 
“Where’s Belle?” 
 
“She fell asleep in the car. Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” 
 
“I told you I was having some friends for dinner.” 
 
She glanced at them, summoning a fake smile as Boyd introduced her as his ex wife. She was 
polite to the others, glacial to Brian, who gave her the same reception. She walked back with 
Boyd and whispered, “Who are they?” 
 
“Brian’s friends from Pittsburgh. Just visiting.” 
 
“How domestic of you. And how are you explaining your place in his life?” 
 
“Honestly.” 
 
She glared at him and then focused on Gus, who was playing soldiers with Mac on the floor of the 
children’s room. “Who is he?” 
 
“Brian’s son.” 
 
“He has a son?” 
 
“Yeah, Bonnie. With Lindsay, the blonde you just met.” 
 
She shook her head. “Another woman’s life ruined by a closeted queer. Come on, Mac, it’s late. 
We’re going home.” He protested and following a brief skirmish, complete with tears, they were 
gone. Gus crawled up on Lindsay’s lap after Mac left and was soon falling asleep. She took that as 
a cue to suggest they go back to the B&B. When it became clear that Brian wasn’t leaving with 
them, Michael said, “I was hoping we could talk alone.” 
 
“Not tonight,” Brian buckled Gus into his car seat, and kissed his cheek. Gus sighed, quickly 
falling asleep. Brian waved them off and he went back into the building, his arm wrapped tightly 
around Boyd’s waist as they walked.  
 
“I think he’s nice,” Lindsay observed as Ted began to drive. Ted said, 
 
“Never said he wasn’t a nice guy. I just said it was bizarre behavior for Brian and it is. Boyd’s hot, 
no doubt about it, but then, wouldn’t he be?” 
 
“I don’t trust him,” Michael jumped in and they both asked, 
 
“Why not?” 
 
“He’s too…perfect. No one is that perfect. Something’s wrong. It’s like he was sent by a casting 
director to play the part of Brian Kinney’s boyfriend.” 
 
“He got the role,” Ted drolly observed, causing silence to descend with a thump.
Current Mood:  nervous

Mar. 13th, 2005 07:12 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 51
 
The table was clear, the dishes loaded in the dishwasher, the candles extinguished, the music 
switched to something new and jazzy. Boyd brought over a zip-lock bag and sat beside Brian on 
the sofa. “I thought we might smoke a little Buddha. I think we earned it.” 
 
Brian smiled as Boyd lit fat, pre-rolled joint for each of them. “I’m so disappointed that a lawyer 
would break such a litany of laws. First drugs and later…well, I’m sure we can think of a few 
arcane laws of the great state of Louisiana to break, if we really try.” 
 
“See, this is what happens when one starts hanging around with criminal types.” 
 
“You were warned.” 
 
Boyd leaned over and kissed Brian on the cheek. “How did I do?” 
 
“Do?” 
 
“With your posse.” 
 
Brian chuckled. “Don’t use words like ‘posse’. You are way too white to get away with it.” 
 
“It’s okay. It’s such an old, non-hip term that no one other than boring white guys in small 
southern towns would still be using it.” 
 
“You have a point. This is good shit. Where’d you score it?” 
 
“I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you and save the state the price of a lethal injection.” 
 
Brian rolled his eyes and ruffled Boyd’s hair. “Bitch, that’s cold.” 
 
“I never promised you nice.” 
 
“That punishment I owe you is getting more interesting by the minute.” 
 
“Tease. I’m serious. How did I do?” 
 
“You’re not on trial, Boyd. You don’t have to impress anyone. Except me, of course, and you have 
your own little ways of doing that. As for the rest of them, Lindsay will come around, if for no 
other reason than you’re a good Dad and you appreciate good art. Ted has no idea what makes a 
relationship work, or even how to spell the word, so he’ll never get it. Michael would find fault 
with Jesus Christ if the good Lord expressed any interest in me.” 
 
Boyd laughed at that idea, or perhaps it was the marijuana kicking in that made anything Brian 
said seem even more clever than usual. “You’re right. He is in love with you, Michael, not Jesus. I 
feel sorry for his partner.” 
 
“His partner gets it. He knows it’s never happening. Everyone knows, even Mikey, but he wants to 
keep the fantasy alive for reasons I’ll never understand. We’d never make it as partners. I’ve 
known that since we were fourteen. There’s never been any heat on my side. Once, when we 
were kids, I almost jerked him off, but we got interrupted. It was nothing but kid stuff, 
experimentation. Maybe I misled him on that fateful day, I don’t know.” 
 
Boyd stared hard at Brian, and then smiled. “Look at you, Brian. You’re unfair just by existing. I 
know a few of your tricks, now. Are you telling me you never pulled any of them on him?” 
 
“Meaning what?” 
 
Boyd threw his arms around Brian’s neck and kissed his cheek, his neck. “Like this. Or this,” he 
hugged him tight. “Touch him with your body, your lips, your hands, remind him of what he’s 
missing. Imprint yourself on him. Can you honestly tell me you don’t do any of that?” 
 
Brian pulled out of his arms and leaned back, glaring at his lover. “Don’t try to read me, Boyd. 
Don’t figure me out. You’ll get it wrong.” 
 
“I will figure you out, Brian. Because the more I understand about the way you work, the more I 
can anticipate what you want and need. I already know how you rely on your looks, your charm 
and your sexuality to validate your place in the ruling class. I can see you kick that into that gear 
to make sure Michael stays hooked, the poor bastard. At least when you turn it on me, I get to 
the end game.” 
 
“You think I’m that shallow?” 
 
“Why is that shallow? I think you use what weapons you’re given and in your case, you value 
yourself most on that scale. Or maybe you’re just the most comfortable in that role. I think you’re 
too narrow in your self evaluation, but what do I know?” 
 
Brian looked miffed. “You think I’m gaming Mikey?” 
 
“I think the game is how your relationship with him works. I think he likes it as much as you do. 
What I don’t know, is how painful it is for him when there is no end game and never will be, 
Maybe it’s not painful at all. Maybe he doesn’t want the end game, either. He feels safe that you 
won’t insist upon it. I don’t know. Right now, it’s all guess work for me.” 
 
“You talk too much when you’re stoned.” 
 
“Yeah? What should I be doing?” 
 
“This,” Brian lunged for him and Boyd lay back against the sofa, pressed to the leather by Brian’s 
weight. He returned the kiss, letting his arms fall limply to the cushions above his head. Brian 
reached down and opened Boyd’s belt, stringing it out of the loops. He wound it around one of 
Boyd’s wrists and knotted it loosely before encircling the other wrist and running the tongue 
through the buckle, pulling it taut. Boyd grinned at him, tightening the sash by stretching his 
arms apart as far as the leather allowed.  
 
“What’s the meaning of this, Mr. Kinney?” 
 
“I think we said something about your needing to be punished.” 
 
“Shouldn’t you have taken my shirt off first?” 
 
Brian opened the buttons of Boyd’s shirt and separated the flaps, moving his tongue along his 
exposed flesh. “I don’t think what I choose to do is any of your business, you bad boy. If I choose 
to tear this shirt off of you, I will.” 
 
Boyd looked into Brian’s hazel eyes and the heat swept from one to the other. Brian smiled and 
grabbed the Oxford cloth in his fists, tearing it up the back, creating two separated sections held 
on by the sleeves. He bared Boyd’s shoulders, sucking on his smooth, muscular flesh and then 
pulled him up, leading him over to a chair and looping his bound hands over the back to hold him 
there, facing Brian. Boyd looked up, expectantly, as Brian removed his own shirt, followed by his 
belt. He ran the leather over Boyd’s bared skin, his face, his neck, instructing him to lick it as it 
passed over his lips. Boyd’s eyes closed as he lashed at the strip of leather with his tongue. Brian 
leaned over to remove Boyd’s shoes and socks, pressing the sole of his bare foot against his groin 
as he leaned into the pressure of it, grinding his hardening cock against it.  
 
Boyd moaned and used his toes to trace the length of Brian’s erection and then gently kneaded 
his balls, causing Brian to groan with pleasure. Brian reached down to hold Boyd’s ankle, wedging 
Boyd’s foot even more tightly to his body. He unzipped and took his cock out, watching Boyd’s 
expression grow eager as he focused on Brian’s erection. Brian lowered himself onto Boyd’s lap, 
facing him, straddling his thighs. He pressed his dick against Boyd’s bare belly, feeling the 
warmth of his skin caress his own delicate flesh. Brian raised and lowered himself rhythmically, 
rubbing himself on Boyd’s abdomen and using the rise and fall of his ass to arouse Boyd’s dick in 
a parody of a heterosexual lap dance. 
 
“You’re killing me, Brian,” he said hoarsely, and Brian smiled at that lament. 
 
“Good, because you’ve been a very bad boy. Suffer, bitch.” 
 
Boyd lifted his hips to meet Brian’s gyrations, instinctively humping against him to try and ease 
the divine torture Brian was creating in him. Brian combated his own heat, but he refused to give 
in to it. He wanted the torture of anticipation. He wanted to prolong the resolution as long as they 
both could hold out. He had no ideal how long that was, but he intended to find out.  
 
Brian anchored his hands on Boyd’s thighs, throwing his head back, using the strong muscles of 
his legs to pound against Boyd’s lap, faster and harder, reaching around with one fist to 
masturbate himself, banging the head of his cock against Boyd’s belly with each stroke, until 
Boyd’s skin was wet with oozing semen. Brian’s hip was being bruised by the rock hard battering 
of Boyd’s erection beneath him, but he didn’t care. When Brian felt the pressure of an impending 
ejaculation, he stood and slapped his steel rod against Boyd’s cheek with a two word instruction, 
 
“Suck it.” 
 
Boyd obeyed, gladly, leaning forward to take his lover in, since he was bound and unable to grip 
it. Brian did that for him, stroking himself into his mouth as he felt the divine sensation of Boyd’s 
lips, tongue and mouth bringing him resolution. 
When it hit, he clutched Boyd’s shoulders tightly and cried out as he felt the molten passion leave 
his body and enter Boyd’s in successively harder convulsive shudders. 
 
When Brian withdrew, he saw the corresponding need in Boyd’s expression. Brian smiled, kissed 
him, and momentarily stranded him as he went into the bedroom. Boyd craned his neck to watch 
for him to return and when he did, he was naked. Brian smiled and dangled one of Boyd’s silk 
neckties, rubbing it provocatively over his chest and waist, slipping it across his thigh. “What do 
you plan to do with that?” Boyd asked breathlessly and Brian said nothing as he gently slid it 
between Boyd’s lips, tying it loosely at the back of his head, but tight enough to hold the gag in 
place. Boyd’s eyes were now all that he had to plead with, that and the silent insistence of his 
body. 
 
Keeping Boyd’s gazed locked with his own, Brian unzipped Boyd and Boyd lifted his hips so his 
jeans could be slipped all the way off. Brian smiled at the dense color and granite texture of his 
lover’s erection. Boyd could only moan and Brian smiled and opened a condom wrapper. He 
unfurled the thin latex and while Boyd watched in wonder, Brian slipped it over two fingers of his 
left hand and filled his right palm with lube, rolling the condom wrapped fingers through it until 
they were fully coated with the slick, shiny viscous liquid. Boyd questioned him with a silent plea 
and Brian winked at him and reached behind his own back, resting one foot on Boyd’s thigh as he 
inserted his condom-clad fingers up his own ass. He grinned as Boyd watched Brian’s long, slim 
fingers move in and out of his lithe body, spreading the lubrication. 
 
Brian seemed to enjoy the sensation, his eyes closing and lips parting as he leaned back against 
his hand and used his free, heavily lubed hand to stroke himself, bringing back his erection. He 
even used it a few times on Boyd, but not enough to get him off. Instead, he slowly removed his 
fingers from his body and he held Boyd’s rapt gaze as he carefully removed the condom and 
transferred it to Boyd’s hard steel. 
 
“And now, you bad boy,” Brian said in a low, gutteral voice, “I’m going to ride you into a fucking 
coma.” 
 
Boyd nodded vigorously, grimacing as Brian positioned himself above Boyd. Using one hand, he 
carefully guided him into his self-lubricated ass. Brian moaned at the combined pain and pleasure 
of penetration. He controlled the rate at which he allowed Boyd to enter his body, he controlled 
the speed at which they fucked, everything was under his control, including the decision to use 
Boyd’s hard cock as his sex toy.  
 
Boyd bit into the tie that gagged him to help keep some control, wanting to prolong the 
excitement of being inside Brian for as long as he could stand it. Brian kissed Boyd through the 
tie, plunging his tongue at the silk, under the silk, seeking to taste his mouth. He linked both 
arms around Boyd’s neck, and moved up and down on his lap, increasing the speed and intensity 
as the power of their union overcame their shared desire to make it last forever. Boyd finished 
first, lifting his hips off the chair fueled by the power of his orgasm. Brian kept him inside as he 
finished himself off, collapsing against Boyd as they both waited for their strength to return.  
 
Finally, Brian reached up to untie the gag, throwing the wet tie on the floor as he got up and 
freed Boyd’s hands. He massaged Boyd’s wrists and arms gently as they both stood and walked 
together to the bathroom for a shared shower, without even having to speak.  
 
In bed, Brian crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he felt Boyd’s gaze fix 
on his profile.  
 
“What?” Brian asked and Boyd raised himself on one arm, using his free hand to trace a map 
across Brian’s bare chest, that was still damp from the shower and the humidity.  
 
“You okay?” 
 
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 
 
“I don’t know. But I do know that’s a non-responsive answer.” 
 
“Are you crossing me?” 
 
“I’m talking to you, Brian. I’m trying to figure out whether you’re alright. Give me a straight 
answer. It was the first time we did that and I think it unlikely that you do that very often. Am I 
wrong about that?” 
 
“You’re not wrong.” 
 
“Well then?” 
 
“You push too hard, Boyd.” 
 
“You hide too deep, Brian. And I won’t let you get away with it. You need to know that about me 
and accept it. If you can’t, we’re going to have problems.” 
 
Brian sat up and removed Boyd’s hand as he said, “It was the first time I trussed you up like a 
turkey, too, Boyd. How are you with that?” 
 
“Deflection doesn’t work, either, Brian, but okay, I’ll answer you. First. I’m fine with it. I trust 
you. I never felt at risk, never felt threatened, never felt any pain. I guess those are my 
parameters. You’re the hottest person on the planet, Brian. You make me crazy.” Brian smiled at 
that, obviously flattered by Boyd’s compliment. “Your turn.” 
 
“I’m okay with it. I chose the time, I controlled the situation, I trust you, too, Boyd. I never felt 
submissive to you, or that I was being womanized. I guess those are my outside parameters 
when it comes to taking it up the ass. And I don’t think I’m the hottest man on the planet, Boyd. 
You are.” 
 
They kissed and then fell back together, holding onto each other in content silence. Finally, Boyd 
said, “We have things in common other than sex, you know.” 
 
Brian glanced at him and smiled. “Who cares?” 
 
“I’m serious.” 
 
“Such as?” 
 
“Kids. We both love our kids. We both have a strong work ethic, we’re both stubborn, we’re both 
loyal, we’re both…successful. Okay, maybe that’s giving myself points. If I had to live on what I 
make as a small-town lawyer, I’d be hurting. You’re the one who made your own money.” 
 
“Money’s money, Boyd. Doesn’t matter where it comes from. My old man was terrible with what 
marginal money he did make. Unless I wanted to live the way he did, I knew I had to do 
something with my life.” 
 
“And so you did. And what will you do with it now? You aren’t the type to do nothing.” 
 
“I guess I’m waiting to see if I’ll be spending the rest of my life on Death Row. If not, I have 
some ideas.” 
 
“You won’t be.” 
 
“Whatever.” 
 
“What did you mean about your salvation, Brian? You said you bought your salvation.” 
 
“I’m not ready to talk about that.” 
 
“Okay,” Brian liked the way Boyd never forced an issue. He gave him the space he needed to get 
the facts out at his own pace. “But it’s cruel to make me hang here, wondering what it could 
mean.” Brian smiled. Maybe not. 
 
“If you learned nothing from tonight, you must have learned I can inflict a little cruelty with the 
best of them.” 
 
Boyd laughed and tweaked Brian’s nipple, causing him to wince. “Do me a favor.” 
 
“What?” 
 
“Tell Ted to keep his fucking mouth shut about those paintings of Jared’s that I recovered from 
the cemetery.” 
 
“Ted can’t keep his mouth shut about shit, haven’t you noticed? But what’s the concern?” 
 
“I don’t know. Bonnie brought up the legend of Jared’s lost work. I just wondered what brought 
that on.” 
 
“I need to talk to Theodore anyway. I’ll emphasize that point.” 
 
“Are you sending him back?” 
 
“Unfortunately, because of the limitations they’ve placed on me, I need him here right now. 
Ensuring my salvation may require some maneuvering I won’t be free to manage. I need Ted to 
be my stand-in.” 
 
“So Ted knows?” 
 
“Not yet he doesn’t, no.” 
 
“Brian…please tell me what salvation means.” 
 
“Salvation generally means deliverance from sin, or more secular, protecting someone from harm 
or failure.” 
 
“You’re about to find out I know a little about discipline myself.” 
 
Brian laughed. “That sounds promising. Maybe later. Okay, Boyd, I’ll tell you this much. I used 
the word ‘salvation’ because I’m in the process of buying a church.” 
 
Boyd stared at him, blinked, and then said, “Is that supposed to be funny?” 
 
“You wanted to know. There you go. I’m bidding on a church. I’m turning over a new leaf,” Brian 
said with a chuckle, kissed Boyd on the lips and turned his back to him as he snuggled into his 
pillow to sleep. 

Mar. 14th, 2005 06:40 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 52
 
Ted was having one of those dreams, again. Brian Kinney was touching him, sharing that voodoo 
of his, and Ted was letting him, wanting him to do it. He would either wake up wet or finish 
himself off and then feel appalled and guilty about it for days. He didn’t really want Brian, not 
really, he was terrified of Brian, and he would be so insecure about his sexual prowess with him 
that even if he had the opportunity, which he never would, he didn’t think he could go through 
with it. But shit, he was Brian, after all. And Brian was sex on wheels. So the dreams happened, 
occasionally, and Ted would go through days of anxiety because of it, almost as if Brian could tell. 
And was disgusted by it. Which he would be. But this was one of those dreams. Brian’s voice, 
calling his name in a low whisper, Brian’s clean, expensive scent, Brian’s skin… 
 
“Theodore! If you drop that hand any lower, I swear to God, I’ll break it off. And I don’t mean 
your hand.” 
 
Brian. 
 
Ted withdrew his hand from under the sheets and sat up in bed, staring at Brian, who was seated 
on the end of his bed, glaring at him. “W-what…?” Ted stammered, trying to separate reality from 
dreamland. Brian was unshaven, and wearing the clothes he had on last night. Obviously Boyd 
dropped him off on his way to work.  
 
“Sorry to interrupt a wet dream, but I need to talk and you need to listen.” 
 
“Am I fired?” 
 
“You want to tell me why I shouldn’t fire you?” 
 
“Because I was trying to help, Brian.” 
 
“By deliberately countermanding a direct order from me? I said I do not want anyone from the 
Pitts coming down here. So what do you do? You tell them they need to come down here. And 
why? Because you don’t approve of my relationship with Boyd.” 
 
“It’s not that.” 
 
“Whatever it is, I don’t give a shit. I don’t need your approval, or Mikey’s approval, or Lindsay’s 
approval or God forbid, my mother’s approval, or a dispensation from the fucking Pope. I’m with 
Boyd. Get the fuck over it.” 
 
“The money…” 
 
“What about the money? You told them about the money?” 
 
“Brian, you’re about to go on trial for your life! What the fuck are you doing spending two 
hundred grand on God knows what?” 
 
“My money, my life. If I need something to give me hope that I’ll win this thing, then you need to 
let me have that. And if the worse happens, I’ll flip it. It’s real estate, it’s fungible. But that’s none 
of your god damned business. And as my accountant, any financial transaction I involve you in is 
supposed to be completely confidential. You get that? Completely confidential. And if you can’t do 
that much for me, then you’re fired.” 
 
“Brian, I’m your accountant, but I’m also your friend. I’m worried about you. This thing with 
Boyd, this huge investment, it’s very unlike you. Because of the pressure you’re under…” 
 
“Stop. We’ve had that discussion and we aren’t having it again. You don’t know me. And my 
dealings with you on my finances are not part of our so-called friendship, they’re part of our 
business relationship. Are you capable of keeping my confidence on that front or not? I need to 
know. Because if you say you are and then you fuck me over, not only will I fire you, Ted, but I’ll 
file a complaint with your professional board. Get me?” 
 
Ted nodded as fear struck him mute. Brian continued. 
 
“As for my personal situation, one more breach and you’re gone. Understand? I’ll decide when 
and if I want any contact with the Pitts gang. My life, my decision. You aren’t an angel on my 
shoulder, Theodore. And let me put your little mind at ease. Despite this crap going on with the 
law, despite the danger I’m in, I’m happier than I’ve been in two years. In fact, I’m more at 
peace with myself. Not only am I not going nuts, I feel I’ve re-connected with the world on 
several fronts, not just because of Boyd. I have a purpose. For the last several months, I’ve had 
nothing to keep me from drifting other than a sense of responsibility to Gus. Things are different 
now. We need to talk later about this business transaction, but your first order of the day is to get 
Mikey and Lindsay and Gus the hell out of here. Nod that you comprehend.” 
 
Ted nodded. 
 
Brian stood, stretched and added, “One more thing. Have you said anything to anyone about 
those paintings you and Boyd dug out of the grave?” 
 
“Like who?” 
 
“I don’t know, Theodore, you tell me. Are you playing hide the eggroll with Jimmy Chang and 
maybe sharing a little pillow talk with him afterwards?” 
 
Ted grew scarlet, always amazed by Brian’s ability to sniff out a sexual connection. He had called 
Jimmy after he gave him his card. They did share a hump in the back of the florist shop while 
Bonnie was out. But there was no discussion of Boyd or of Jared Hall’s artwork. And he told Brian 
that. Brian nodded. 
 
“You tell anyone about the paintings, I’ll be on trial for murder for real.” 
 
“I won’t.” He had no idea why it would matter to Brian or Boyd, but he wasn’t going to argue with 
him. Brian left the room without another word and Ted fell back on his pillow with a groan. His 
stomach hurt. How could he ever sexualize that man in his fantasies? He was as scary as hell. In 
so many ways, Brian was like a straight guy, out of touch with his emotions, closed, angry and 
driven. And yet of all of his friends, Brian was the most determinedly gay. Not effeminate or 
political, but balls to the wall queer.  
 
Ted realized with a sigh that he admired Brian for that, for his ability to create fear, for his lack of 
shame, for his in your face homosexuality. And yet here he was with a closeted lawyer for a 
partner. How was that going to work? “Not your business, Ted,” he whispered to himself and got 
out of bed so he could shower, dress and start checking airline schedules.  
 
 
When Brian came downstairs, wearing fresh clothes, clean-shaven, hungry, he found Bo at the 
table in the dining room entertaining a beaming Lindsay and a charmed Gus.  
 
“Daddy!” Gus greeted him and Brian smiled at his son as he filled a coffee cup and sat down 
beside Bo. 
 
“Hi, cowboy. What are you eating?” 
 
“Pancakes with mananas.” 
 
“’Mananas’?” Brian repeated. “Is that the male version of a banana?” 
 
Gus looked confused as Lindsay laughed. “Stop it, Brian.” 
 
Jon came from the kitchen and said to Brian, “The usual?” 
 
Brian nodded and Jon disappeared through the door again. “Where’s Mikey?” 
 
“Still asleep, I guess,” Lindsay said and Brian turned his attention to Bo. 
 
“What’s going on?” 
 
“We should talk. But we won’t bore your friends and family with shop talk.” 
 
“I’m not bored!” Lindsay said eagerly and Bo smiled at her.  
 
“There’s this little thing called the attorney-client privilege. As an investigator working with 
Brian’s lawyer, I fall under that privilege. But if we discuss his case in front of you or anyone else 
not on the legal team, we risk losing that privilege.” 
 
Her eyes grew wide. “I wouldn’t want that!” 
 
“Exactly. I knew you wouldn’t.” 
 
“Let’s go somewhere else,” Brian suggested and Bo shook his head. 
 
“It can wait. Enjoy breakfast with your son and lovely lady friend. I’ll catch up with you later.” 
 
He left after saying a cordial goodbye to Lindsay and Gus. She smiled at Brian. 
 
“He’s wonderful! I wish I knew a straight, older woman to hook him up with.” 
 
“I suspect Bo could do his own hook-ups if that’s what he wanted. Linds, I want you guys to go 
back today. You saw me. You met Boyd. You see I’m not crazy. It was great to see you both, I’ve 
missed you, but you can’t stay here. It’s too complicated and I don’t want Gus around the crap 
swirling about me.” 
 
Before she could answer, she was stunned into silence by a tall, striking blonde woman who 
entered the room. She wore a simple but expensive white linen sheath and white lizard high 
heels, carrying a classic briefcase instead of a purse. Her strand of pearls was real, as were the 
double pearls in her earlobes. She walked over to Brian and kissed his cheek in greeting.  
 
“How are you holding up, honey?” 
 
“Good, Lisette. I didn’t know you were coming in.” 
 
“Really? I left a message on your mobile.” 
 
He winced, picturing his phone on the dresser upstairs. When he got tumbled up with Boyd, he 
tended to forget his obsession with checking for messages. “Lisette, this is my friend Lindsay 
Peterson, from Pittsburgh, and our son, Gus. Lindsay, this is Lisette Coulter, Boyd’s sister and my 
lawyer.” 
 
The two lesbians smiled, shook hands, silently made each other. Brian experienced a straight 
moment as he pictured the two beautiful blondes in some sexual clench, but he quickly purged his 
mind of that image. Lisette turned to Gus and smiled at him, then Brian. “He’s beautiful, but 
wouldn’t he be?” 
 
Jon brought Brian his bagel and greeted Lisette warmly, offering her food, which she refused. “I 
passed Bo on the way in,” she said, watching Brian spread cream cheese on his bagel. “We 
tentatively set a meeting in a half-hour in the conference room in Boyd’s office. But I wanted to 
scold you privately, Brian.” 
 
“About?” 
 
She glanced at Lindsay, who stood and motioned for Gus to come with her. “I need to clean him 
up, anyway. Nice to meet you. Lisette.” 
 
“And you, Lindsay.” 
 
They went upstairs and Lisette turned back to Brian after watching Lindsay retreat. “She’s 
gorgeous.” 
 
“Yeah. She has a partner.” 
 
“So do I, but she’s still gorgeous. You two were…” 
 
“I donated it.” 
 
“Gotcha.” 
 
“So is this about Boyd?” 
 
“Boyd?” She looked confused. 
 
“I figured you were going to tell me how wrong we are for each other and how I shouldn’t be 
involving him in my life when everything was on the line.” 
 
“You’d be wrong, Brian. Boyd’s a big boy. He chooses his own lovers. But I do want to bitch at 
you. You cannot play with the system, Brian. I suspect you’ve done that most of your life, and 
you’ve gotten away with it. But not now. This is the big time. Your life is on the line, just as you 
said. They would love to have a reason to revoke your bail, and if you give them one, there’s 
nothing Rod nor I could do to stop it. You’ll be spending a good little while in jail throughout this 
process. You want that?” 
 
“No.” 
 
“Then don’t ever leave this jurisdiction again without calling us first. Not Boyd, not Bo, but Rod or 
me. And wait while we clear it with the DA. We were able to finesse this one, but not again. You 
hear me?” 
 
“I get it. Boyd already bitched me out about it.” 
 
“Good. What were you doing, anyway?” 
 
“Nothing illegal.” 
 
She glared at him and Brian smiled. “Nor was I tricking,” 
 
“Boyd put up with acres of that behavior from Jared. I would really hate for him to have to go 
through that kind of pain again. None of my business, but I saw him suffer. I’d like to see him 
happy, for a change.” 
 
“I thought you weren’t here to lecture me about Boyd.” 
 
“I thought so, too. But you’re a player, Brian, and he’s not. Don’t start something you have no 
intention of finishing.” 
 
“I’m in love with Boyd.” 
 
She stared at him, smiled, and then covered his hand with hers. “Thanks for saying that. He’s 
willing to put it all on the line for you, Brian. He deserves at least that much.” 
 
“I’m putting it on the line for him, too, Lisette. More than you know.” 
 
“That’s the way it should be. Welcome to the family, honey,” she leaned over to kiss him lightly 
on the lips, just as Michael entered the room. He saw Brian kissing a gorgeous blonde and felt the 
jolt of a shock reverberate through him as he demanded,  
 
“What the fuck is this?”
Current Mood:  distressed


Mar. 15th, 2005 05:02 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 53
 
Lisette exchanged a silent glance with Brian as Michael demanded an explanation. Brian saw 
something wicked come into her expression and she moved even closer to him, sliding one 
shapely leg across his thighs and chewing on his earlobe, while she purred, “See you later at 
Boyd’s place, stud. We’ll be waiting.” 
 
Brian grinned and patted her hip as she stood, straightened her hem, and walked past the 
stunned and gaping Michael, offering him a sly smile. “W-what…?” Michael stammered and Brian 
shrugged and began spreading cream cheese on his bagel once again. 
 
“Who?” Michael was unable to complete a sentence and Brian grinned at him.  
 
“Her name’s Lisette. Pretty hot, huh?” 
 
“Suddenly you’re bisexual? Boyd’s gotten you into some kind of sick three-way sex game? He 
struck me as at least bi. I’m not surprised he still…” 
 
“Mikey, Mikey, step back off that ledge, boy,” Brian said with a laugh. “She’s his sister, for 
chrissakes. Plus she’s my lawyer, and by the way she’s a dyke. She was just doing that for your 
benefit. Joke, get over it.” 
 
Michael dropped into a chair, still fuming. “Not funny!” 
 
“It was from this angle.” 
 
“His sister is this hot shot defense lawyer you were talking about?” 
 
“She works for him, although she’s apparently no slouch. Brains run in their family, I guess.” 
 
“Keeping the fees in the family, I guess,” Michael rephrased it, looking up as Jon came in and 
gave him choices for breakfast. Michael selected the pancakes with bananas and Brian smiled at 
how Gus and his best friend had so many common interests. Michael’s perpetual boyhood was 
appealing on some levels, annoying on others. 
 
One more member of the Coulter family interrupted them, this one completely unexpected. Belle 
Coulter walked into the dining room wearing a royal blue tank-styled swimsuit. Brian looked 
behind her for either Boyd or, god help him, Bonnie, but no adult materialized. She had a short 
terrycloth cover-up open over her suit and a red Nike swim cap on her head. The close fit of the 
cap and the color of it made her look scalped. 
 
“Belle, did you get lost on your way to the ocean? Or were you going swimming with the gators?” 
 
“I have swim classes at the Y and I walk over from the school. But I don’t think it’s fair that Mac 
got to meet your little boy and I didn’t. So I want to see him.” 
 
She had that jutting chin, granite-glare look that her father got when he was determined, and 
Brian found it charming. “Won’t you be late for swim class?” 
 
“So?”  
 
“Ok, go on upstairs. His mom is cleaning him up.” 
 
“You have a wife?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his secret life, and Brian chuckled.  
 
“No, Belle, but he has a mother. Her name is Lindsay. She’s blonde, can’t miss her. His name is 
Gus.” 
 
Michael stared at him. Brian shrugged. “Boyd’s daughter.” 
 
“How many kids does he have?” 
 
“Two, Michael.” 
 
“He’s bi.” 
 
“He’s not bi, he’s gay. He was in a relationship with a woman. He married her. They had two kids 
together. I’ve been in a relationship with a woman, too. Many of us have. If you eliminated from 
the queer ranks all men who have had pussy, we wouldn’t make up ten per cent of anything.” 
 
“He’s in the closet.” 
 
“That door’s swinging open. Besides, who are you to talk? For how many years were you in the 
closet at work? What about me? How long before I told my mother? Stop trying to make trouble 
where there is none.” 
 
“Stop burying your head in the sand.” 
 
Brian chuckled. “That’s not where my head’s been buried.” 
 
“Yeah, and when your head’s buried in that territory, your brain switches off.” 
 
“My brain never switches off, Mikey. Why are you so pissed about Boyd? Don’t you want me to be 
happy?” 
 
Michael stared at the unasked question between them, startled to hear it hit the table with a 
thud. He never expected it from Brian and he was too stunned to have an answer ready. Finally 
he said, “Of course I do! What kind of question is that?” 
 
“One that’s been begging for years,” Brian said, meeting Michael’s stare with an intense gaze. 
“Answer me, Mikey. Don’t you want me to be happy?” 
 
“I said I do.” 
 
“Then why do you try to fuck it up when I find someone I may be able to have a relationship 
with?” 
 
“I’ve never!” 
 
“You’ve always. Justin? Let’s review. First, you treated him like shit for how long? The trick that 
wouldn’t leave. Nice. When you weren’t treating him badly, you were minimizing him to me and 
finally tattling on him when you caught him at something. Not once did you try and help us 
navigate waters neither one of us were familiar with, or encourage what was happening between 
us. You took bets on how briefly we would last.” 
 
“Justin was wrong for you. Too young, too willful, and he was cheating on you. He proved that by 
leaving you for Ethan. So I was right about him.” 
 
“You were not right about him. You don’t know what our relationship was all about, so how can 
you decide if he’s ‘cheating’? But you couldn’t wait to tell me on the hope that it would cause a 
problem, which it did, by the way. When you were with Dr. Dave, I didn’t like him, either. He was 
a control freak. But I did what I could do to make it easy for you to be together. Maybe I was 
melodramatic about it, but I never tried to take his place with you or let you use me as an excuse 
to walk out on him. Ben? I knew Ben first. Ben’s a nice guy. Not my cup of tea, but basically a 
nice guy. I never told you we’d been together to throw a pall over your relationship, and when 
you found out, I never used it as a wedge.” 
 
“Brian, you’re full of shit. You’re re-inventing history to make a point. You said horrible things 
about David, in the beginning. You were really rude about my feelings for him. And you were 
constantly intruding on our relationship, trying to get me to go out or do other stuff. And even 
with Ben, you’ve made plenty of catty remarks about how boring he is and we are. When you and 
Justin broke up, you worked hard to assert yourself with me, to make sure you still had some 
power over me and were always butting in any plans Ben and I had together.” 
 
Brian sat back and considered that claim. Finally he said, “You’re right, Mikey. To a point. I have 
been sarcastic and demeaning about your relationships. But I let you have them and I never 
wished bad things on you or tried to find ways to break you up. As for trying to get in the middle 
of your relationship when Justin and I broke up, I was lonely, Mikey. Can you understand that? I 
was in pain. I needed someone to fill a void for me, and I don’t mean sexually. I needed the 
comfort of a friend.” 
 
“You never said anything like that.” 
 
“Of course I didn’t. You know me.” 
 
“Then why are you saying it now?” 
 
“Because things are different. I’m different. I’m too old to act like that. I’ve been through too 
much. And I want to see my life change. That change is partly centered around Boyd. I love 
Boyd, Michael. Can you accept that? I’m in love with Boyd Coulter.” 
 
Michael looked as if Brian pulled out his stopper and all the air was leaving his body. He seemed 
to crumple into himself. “What happened to ‘always have, always will’?” 
 
Brian smiled. “I will always love you, Michael. You were there for me when I was a scared, lonely 
kid and you and I have been through the wars together. You know me in ways no one ever will, 
because that boy you knew is gone now, he morphed into this man. But only you will know that 
boy and that’s important. But the love we share isn’t the love you have with Ben and the love I 
have with Boyd. It never will be. Right?” 
 
“How do you know that, Brian?” 
 
“Because I just do. Because I don’t feel romantically towards you. I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, 
Mikey. I think you’re hot. I could fuck you, if everything were equal. But it isn’t. I realized a long 
time ago that what you meant in my life was a hell of a lot more important than getting my ashes 
hauled. I won’t ever compromise our friendship by crossing that line. I want you in my life, 
Michael. Now and forever. But you have to accept the fact that I’m tired of being alone. I don’t 
intend to be alone, and I found someone I want to be with. Just as you have, with Ben. I don’t 
want you to just begrudgingly accept that, I want you to encourage it and help me if I stumble 
and protect my relationship with Boyd because you know how much it means to me and you truly 
want me to be happy.” 
 
“Why don’t I host a little party for the two of you?” 
 
Brian sighed at his sarcasm. “That would be nice. We’ll come up to the Pitts for it, if I’m ever free 
to leave this place.” 
 
“I was kidding.” 
 
“I’m not.” 
 
“Brian, when you do get these charges dropped, what then? You plan to stay in this shitty little 
town? Because I don’t see it.” 
 
“I have some ideas, Mikey, but I think I should discuss them with Boyd before I discuss them with 
anyone else, and I’m not ready to do that, yet.” 
 
“Do you believe there’s any chance that the circumstances that trap you here are making you 
exaggerate your feelings for this guy?” 
 
“No chance whatsoever.” 
 
“That’s blunt.” 
 
“That’s a fact. I have to go, Mikey. I need to get over to Boyd’s office for that meeting. You guys 
need to go home. I appreciate the support, but I’m fine and there’s no reason for you to stay.” 
 
Belle entered the room, holding Gus by the hand, trailed by Lindsay. “Gus is going to the Y with 
me. Lindsay too.” 
 
Brian glanced at Lindsay, who smiled. “There’s a kid’s pool. I thought he might like splashing 
around for awhile.” 
 
Gus opened his robe to flash them a small red Speedo that tucked under his taut baby’s belly. 
“I’m gonna swim!” 
 
Brian laughed. “Christ, you’re already dressing him for suds and studs night at Babylon. Okay, 
Greg Louganis, have fun.” 
 
“Who dat?” Gus demanded and his mother intervened. 
 
“A great swimmer, honey,” she glared at Brian. “Come on, Belle, lead the way.” 
 
“A diver, actually,” Brian corrected her as they left. Brian stood and paused behind Michael’s 
chair, looping his arms around his neck and kissing the top of his bristly black hair. “Think about 
it, Mikey. I won’t let you fuck up what I have with Boyd, but I don’t want to lose what we have, 
either. Both are really crucial to me. Don’t make me choose.” 
 
“I love you, Brian,” Michael said in a weak voice and Brian nodded and let him go. 
 
“Love you, too. Always have, always will.” 
 
He didn’t see Michael’s wince as he turned and left the house. 
Current Mood:  pensive

Mar. 16th, 2005 05:48 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 54
 
Brian nodded to Lorene as he entered Boyd’s offices, aware that she regarded him with a certain 
intensity that suggested she’d figured out their relationship. He didn’t care. So long as Boyd didn’t 
mind, the whole world could know as far as Brian was concerned. She said they were in the 
conference room and he went in to find Boyd talking quietly to his sister.  
 
There was a striking similarity between them, both blond, both beautiful, and both strong and 
intelligent. It made Brian wonder what the other sister, LuAnn, was like, and how she could end 
up with a creep like Rex. He walked up behind Boyd’s chair, slid his arms across his shoulders and 
down his chest, and when Boyd looked back, Brian kissed him. Boyd reached up to rest a hand on 
Brian’s cheek as they kissed, neither of them worried about Lisette, who beamed at them. 
 
Brian broke it off and sat beside Boyd, allowing himself to hold his hand for a moment, weaning 
himself from their physical connection. “You two are just gorgeous together,” Lisette said with a 
smile. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you so happy, Sissy Boy.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “Thanks, it makes me pretty happy to be happy.” 
 
“And in the midst of all this happiness, let’s talk about the murder charges against me,” Brian said 
with a wry smile. “Where’s Bo?” 
 
“Here,” Bo entered the room with a large mug of coffee supplied by Lorene. He sat by Lisette and 
said, “As we all know, Brian didn’t do it. I think their case is so circumstantial and flimsy that 
they’ll have to dismiss it, Lisette. I can’t see them prosecuting on what they have.” 
 
“I have an appointment in an hour to talk to Charlie about that,” Lisette said. “But if we can’t 
deliver a better suspect, they won’t dismiss the charges. They’ll just delay the trial and keep 
trying to pile up evidence against Brian. They have to burn someone for it, and he’s an easy 
victim. Gay, out of towner, already up on a public lewd. He was with Greg the night he died, as 
was some other unknown lover, but it’s not the worst case I’ve ever seen.” 
 
Brian winced. “Why am I feeling nervous hearing that?” 
 
“Sorry, Brian, just parroting what I’ll hear from Charlie. What do you know, Bo?” 
 
“I’ve started with the basic premise that most murders are either greed or passion. Was it the 
man who left that unidentified evidence in Greg’s stomach or was it some other motive? Your 
friend Ted has done a good job giving me a preliminary look at the bank records of Willis, Brian. I 
think we should hand them over to a forensic accountant now, Lisette, let them do their thing so 
they can be the one to testify. But that account in New Orleans has regular infusions of cash 
deposits totaling three grand, first of every month. Like a paycheck, but not a paycheck. Where 
did that cash come from and why? Blackmail, most likely. Someone who was getting their dick 
sucked by Willis and didn’t want the little woman to know, maybe? Our anonymous donor? Or did 
it have nothing to do with sex and it was all about Willis having some knowledge someone didn’t 
want him to have? I had an interesting conversation with Artie Hall.” 
 
Boyd looked startled. “Why would you talk to Jared’s brother?” 
 
“Hall has a record.” 
 
“For what?” 
 
“Assault with a deadly. But he was only sixteen at the time so while they didn’t try him as a juvie, 
they did go light on his sentence. But he did time.” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Look, I’m not fan of Artie’s, but that family had it rough. They grew up hard. I’m 
not surprised he got in trouble as a youth and to his credit, he turned his life around. I still don’t 
know why you would be drawn to Artie.” 
 
“Because he had a little clandestine meeting with your ex-wife, Boyd. In Lafayette. And that got 
me wondering.” 
 
Boyd looked even more surprised. Brian reached over to pat his forearm that rested on the table, 
and Boyd automatically covered his hand with his own. “You meant just the other day?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“How do you know?” 
 
“I have someone shadowing her. When you won’t talk to me, I get suspicious. So I put a tail on 
her.” 
 
“What does any of this have to do with Brian?” 
 
“I’m not sure yet. Why do you think Bonnie would meet with Artie, Boyd?” 
 
“I can’t imagine. As far as I know, Artie’s never been around her. She didn’t go to Jared’s funeral 
with me. We’ve never gone to his gallery together. When he’s hit me up to sell him Jared’s work, 
it was strictly by phone or meeting me alone.” 
 
“Maybe he hit her up too, not knowing she didn’t have any of the work in her house?” 
 
“Maybe. I don’t know.” 
 
“Is he queer too?” 
 
Boyd smiled. “No, Bo. Quite the opposite. Artie fancies himself a player with the ladies. Why not? 
He’s handsome and successful. He doesn’t go for boys. Jared would’ve known. In fact, he’s quite 
homophobic, was very demeaning to Jared about the fact he was gay. You have to understand, 
it’s even worse in the African American community, the stigma for being gay. So many gay black 
men have to live on the down low because of that stigma. Jared was out and proud, which takes 
a lot of bravery. His family had trouble with that fact. Including Artie.” 
 
“And does he blame you for any of that?” 
 
“If so, it’s ridiculous. Jared was out long before he met me, and he stayed out after we broke up. 
It’s not as if I pulled him out of the closet,” Boyd glanced at Brian and smiled slightly. Brian 
shrugged and lit a cigarette. He could do with less discussion about Jared Hall, and he was 
surprised at his jealousy over a dead man.  
 
“Bonnie recently took a run at Jared’s work that you own, Boyd,” Lisette reminded him. “Could 
that have been spurred by Artie?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Could have been, I guess. She may have asked him if he’d buy it if she got it. 
He is the biggest dealer in Jared’s work.” 
 
“And would he?” 
 
“In a heartbeat. But honestly, Lis, as high as Jared’s work is valued now, I think she would be 
stupid to sell it to Artie if she ever got her hands on it, which she won’t. His work should be 
auctioned. That’s how you’d maximize your profit. He’s gone beyond a gallery owner now.” 
 
“Then why doesn’t Artie auction off what he has?” Bo asked and Boyd looked pensive. 
 
“Maybe he will. Or maybe he foolishly sold off Jared’s later, and best, work before his reputation 
fully crystallized and the small and early pieces he has left aren’t valuable enough to auction. I 
don’t know enough about how the art scene works to answer that.” 
 
“So he has to try and find some of the older work at fire sale prices to stay in the tall grass?” Bo 
asked. 
 
“The work I have is very valuable, Bo. It’s large, it’s colorful, it’s Jared at his best. And…” he 
hesitated, then said, “I recently came across a large cache of other works by Jared. Works he 
meant for me to have.” 
 
“Explain,” his sister insisted and he went through the letter, the vault, the discovery, down to the 
deposit of the paintings at the bank. Lisette and Bo exchanged a look and she said, “Don’t you 
think you should have told me this before?” 
 
“Why would he?” Brian intervened. “How was he supposed to know anything about Jared’s art 
could be implicated in this case? I’m not sure I understand even now what that implication may 
be. But before this discussion, there sure as well wasn’t even a remote connection.” 
 
Boyd patted his hand to calm him and said, “I don’t want any noise about those paintings until I 
decide what I’m going to do with them.” 
 
“Auction them,” Lisette said and Boyd shook his head.  
 
“I think I’m going to do what should be done. I’m going to offer them to several major museums 
that feature modern art and see which one would give me the most dedicated space and the best 
and most respectful display of his work, and let it reside there for everyone to enjoy across the 
ages. I have some of his work to remember him by. I don’t want to make money off of the pain 
and agony his painting caused in his life, by keeping him from treating his illness. And I want the 
world to enjoy the beauty he created. A museum is the way to do that.” 
 
Brian leaned over and kissed Boyd gently, whispering something to him that made Boyd blush 
and smile and whisper, “You too.” 
 
Bo wasn’t used to seeing men kiss, but he didn’t mind, and he found Boyd’s news about a 
treasure trove of art work interesting. Lisette smiled at her brother and his lover. “This is why 
you’re such a loveable goofball, Boyd. You’re so otherworldly romantic.” 
 
“It’s a beautiful gesture,” Brian defended him. “And one that’s absolutely right. It’s exactly what 
an artist would appreciate, I think. Boyd is an incredible person.” 
 
Boyd smiled at his lover. “Prejudiced.” 
 
“Prejudiced or not, it’s true.” 
 
“How does any of this play into the murder?” Boyd insisted, holding Brian’s hand tightly in his 
own. Before anyone could respond, Bonnie burst into the room, followed by Lorene, who looked 
helpless and angry. But her anger couldn’t compete with Bonnie’s storm. 
 
Bonnie looked at Brian and Boyd’s clenched hands and her glare deepened. Brian started to 
withdraw, but Boyd held to him and wouldn’t let him. Bonnie grazed Lisette with her laser eyes 
and then Bo, but returned her assault to Boyd. 
 
“We’re having a meeting, Bonnie. Make an appointment,” he said, watching her recoil with fury. 
 
“Fuck your meeting! Fuck all of you! Who the fuck do you think you are allowing some bitch I 
don’t even know, some friend of a murderer, to take your daughter to the Y? With that bastard 
kid of his.” 
 
Brian tensed, but Boyd squeezed his hand and stood, facing his ex. “I have no idea what you’re 
talking about, Bonnie. But don’t impugn an innocent little boy with your bile.” 
 
“Impugn? It’s the truth isn’t it? Your queer boyfriend never married the bitch, did he? Or did he 
ruin her life by pretending to be straight the way you ruined mine?” 
 
“I never pretended anything. What the hell are you talking about, anyway?” 
 
“Belle showed up at the B&B today, Boyd,” Brian explained, forcing an unnatural cool he didn’t 
feel. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. She said she was on her way to a swimming lesson and 
she wanted to meet Gus since she missed him at your place last night. So I let her. And then 
Lindsay, the bitch, according to your charming ex, decided to take Gus over to the Y so he could 
swim, and they walked over together. Pretty diabolical.” 
 
“Do you see what you’ve started?” Bonnie ignored Brian and returned her attention to Boyd. “Now 
your own children are seeking out his little gang of people, who God knows, are probably as 
queer as he is, and hanging out at a fucking bed and breakfast on her own! Are you happy?” 
 
“Belle shouldn’t have detoured like that, I agree, Bonnie. But she’s as willful as we are, and we’ll 
just have to talk to her about how important it is that she go exactly where she’s supposed to go 
when she’s supposed to be there. But it’s not as if she’s in danger at the B&B for chrissakes. And 
how is the fact Lindsay and Gus walked to the Y with her a big fucking deal?” 
 
“It’s a big fucking deal because I don’t want that man or any of his so-called friends around my 
children. That’s why it’s a big deal. And if you don’t think it is, then let’s see what a judge says 
about it. Your time is up for making a decision about that fucking art. Either you come through, or 
I’m moving forward with this legal action and thanks very much for giving me additional 
ammunition. But my first stop is your father, to let him know that his heir, his fair haired boy, 
likes to suck dick, unlike his dyke of a daughter.” 
 
Lisette laughed. “You’re still that ridiculous piece of trailer trash you were when Boyd got tricked 
into marrying you, Bonnie. You don’t know my father. You have no idea how dead the messenger 
bearing that news would be. And since he’s been around you, he’d probably blame you for turning 
Boyd gay, because I think that would happen with any man you touched. You have the whole 
Hydra thing down cold, girl. All you’re lacking are the snakes in that dyed black hair of yours.” 
 
“I know your father kicked you out of the family when he found out you liked pussy, Lisette. 
When he finds out Boyd doesn’t, he’ll do the same. And you think that won’t destroy Boyd’s little 
legal practice here that is almost wholly dependent on his father’s cronies?” 
 
“You think he can’t get a job somewhere else? He has a lawyer, Bonnie. I’m instructing you, 
Boyd, don’t say another word to this bitch. You work only through your lawyer with her. You hear 
me?” 
 
“And you will never, never see your kids again,” Bonnie added, and Boyd winced.  
 
“Get out.” 
 
“Boyd…” Brian said, but he shook his head at him. 
 
“Get out.” 
 
She turned her venom on Brian. “You’ve ruined him, are you happy? You come into this quiet 
little town with your fancy car and your pretty face and your perversions, and you end up killing 
some kid and then destroy Boyd and his relationship with his children. Is that what you wanted to 
do? Because you did. You’re one sick fuck. If you or your friends come near my kids again, I will 
have your ass in jail by sundown. Which is where you should be, anyway. You’re a destructive, 
scheming faggot. Fuck you!” 
 
Before Brian could respond, Boyd took her arm and propelled her towards the door, saying, 
“Brian’s my partner, now, god damn it! He’s done nothing wrong. He’s given me a reason to live I 
didn’t have before. So fuck you, Bonnie, and get the fuck out of my office. From now on, talk to 
my lawyer.” 
 
“You will so regret this, Boyd. You have twenty-four hours to stop thinking with your dick and get 
this fixed. That’s it. After that, war.” 
 
“Out.” 
 
He slammed the door behind her, and turned to face their stunned expressions. He put his hand 
on Brian’s shoulder, but Brian pulled back, stood, shook his head. “Brian, don’t,” Boyd said. 
Brian’s expression razored Boyd’s heart, it was so full of pain and confusion.  
 
“I need a break,” he said, and left the room as Boyd called after him. 
 
Boyd looked helplessly at his sister, who said, “Go to him. Make it better. We can do this later.” 
 
Boyd left and Bo gave Lisette a look. “That’s one angry little hellion, that woman.” 
 
“Angry enough to kill?” 
 
Bo smiled slightly as Lisette just nodded. 
Current Mood: working

Mar. 17th, 2005 05:33 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 55 
 
Boyd found Brian on a bench outside his building. He was smoking a cigarette and staring out at 
the lack of traffic on the street. He didn’t look over as Boyd sat beside him and lit one of his own. 
Boyd stared at his stony profile and said, 
 
“Nothing she said about you is true.” 
 
“Everything she said about me is true, except for the fact I didn’t kill Greg Willis.” 
 
“You can’t believe that, Brian. You can’t believe you’ve been bad for me. This thing with Bonnie 
has just been waiting to explode. I’ve allowed her to purchase the peace by giving her money and 
extras, just to keep her steady, and by refusing to live my life. You made me see just how wrong 
that is. What a waste it is. I knew Bonnie would react this way. She never forgave me for having 
a relationship with Jared. She never felt confident in our own relationship. She always suspected I 
wanted to be with men, and she was right. When we were married, the only time we had sex was 
when she initiated it, and there were plenty of times when she did that I wouldn’t or couldn’t 
perform. I think that starts to erode your self-esteem pretty rapidly, Brian. Hers and mine. I felt 
inadequate and she was angry. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get through to me, 
emotionally or sexually. I just wasn’t there.” 
 
“Why did you stay with her?” 
 
“Kids, family pressure, my own internal fear. To be fair, in the beginning, it wasn’t bad. I told 
myself I loved her. We had some really good times. But that phase didn’t last.” 
 
“What made you leave?” 
 
“She had an affair.” 
 
Brian turned to look at him, finally. “An affair?” 
 
“Yeah. It wasn’t that I was jealous, but I could see my life becoming even more of a joke. 
Pretending to be in a marriage, living in denial, while she was screwing around. It’s a small town, 
these things become known. I felt like we had to stop the game.” 
 
“Who was he?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Her doctor, believe it or not. The guy who delivered our kids. He was married, a 
little older, he ended up leaving town shortly after we got divorced because I think Bonnie stalked 
him. She wouldn’t give up on him.” 
 
“If she was the adulterer, why did you give up so much?” 
 
“The adultery never came up, Brian. She said if I tried to pull that shit, she’d explain in open 
court that she had to seek it elsewhere since I was a fag and wouldn’t sleep with her. She’d drag 
Jared into it. He was quite fragile by this time, still called me quite a bit, was basically unraveling, 
mentally. I didn’t want that. The affair with the doctor started soon after Mac was born. It was all 
too much for me. I just wanted out.” 
 
“Does Bo know about this doctor?” 
 
“I doubt it. Why?” 
 
“I think he should.” 
 
“I’ll tell him. I don’t care.” 
 
“When you told me before about your break up, you never mentioned adultery. You made it 
sound like it was all your fault.” 
 
“It was my fault, Brian. I allowed myself to be pulled into a sham relationship. It wasn’t fair to 
either of us. And as weird as this must sound to you, I think Bonnie really loved me in the 
beginning. She wanted it to work. I just wanted a sanctuary and instead I found a living hell. But 
we have two great kids together. If that’s what it took to get these two kids, it was worth it. I’m 
just sorry her hatred of me and all things queer has so infected you.” 
 
“I know how much your kids mean to you, Boyd. I don’t want to be responsible in any way for 
your losing them.” 
 
“I’m not losing them.” 
 
“I guess she could make it difficult for you.” 
 
“She could try. But after hiring this attorney Lisette recommended, I feel better about the whole 
thing. I have rights, too. I intend to assert them with her. Yeah, it may get public and it may get 
messy, but the more involved with you I get, the more people will know, anyway. I’ll probably 
talk to my father myself. I’d rather he hear it from me. But I’d rather pick my own time and I 
want that time to be after you’re acquitted. Why force them to deal with the murder rap hanging 
over your head?” 
 
Brian nodded. “My mother told me I was going to burn in hell when I outed myself to her. My 
father told me I should be the one dying, not him. How do you think your folks will take it?” 
 
“Badly. They were horrible to Lisette. But now they’ve had these years without her being in their 
lives. I can’t help but think they regret it. I see signs of that, especially on holidays and the like. 
So I’m not sure. They won’t be open-armed about it, but I don’t know if I’ll get booted from the 
clan. If so, so be it. I still have my children, my sister…I still have you, right?” 
 
Brian nodded. “And your practice? Is she right about that?” 
 
“Possibly. But Lisette is right, too. I can always get work. And even if I didn’t, I can live off my 
trust income forever. I work because I like it and I need to feel productive, not to eat. You know 
how it is, Brian. You’ve told me, these idle months have been very difficult for you.” 
 
“That’s true. I’ve charged so hard since college. It’s weird not having to be somewhere, do 
something, make some money. Bonnie scares me, Boyd. I don’t say that about many people, but 
she scares me. I think she has a screw loose. Her rage is beyond the usual flash of anger and 
desire for revenge. It’s pathological.” 
 
“She’s gotten worse since we split. I think she believed she’d use her looks to trap another rich 
husband right off the bat, one who liked girls, but it didn’t play out that way. She’s getting older 
now. There aren’t that many eligible single men in her age range. The older ones want even 
younger women. Someday my kids will reach eighteen, and the child support ends. She had a 
settlement from me, and I backed her florist’s shop, but I don’t know how wise she’s been with 
the money and she’s making a living but not a fortune selling flowers and planning events. I think 
she’s getting desperate.” 
 
“Does she rage at your kids?” 
 
“No, she seems to save that for me. I’ve questioned Belle pretty deeply on that subject. Because 
if Bonnie was being verbally abusive to the kids, I’d want to know. I’d use it to get them away 
from her. But it isn’t happening. Belle would tell me.” 
 
“I love you, Boyd, but I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by you, hanging around. I seem to 
be injecting turmoil into your life that you don’t need right now.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “So the answer is for you to gracefully back out of my life and leave me to my 
lonely calm?” 
 
“Maybe you have the strength now to find a lover more suited to your circumstances.” 
 
“I found the lover I want, Brian. And don’t be a chickenshit. If you love me the way you say you 
do, you’ll ride this out with me. I’m riding this whole murder thing out with you. I think you can 
withstand a harridan ex-wife for me. You can’t just bail on me because it gets uncomfortable 
sometimes.” 
 
Brian stared at his lover and then said, “You called me your partner.” 
 
“I think of you that way. I know it’s complicated right now, but I think of us as being partners. 
Don’t you?” 
 
Brian shrugged, and then smiled. “Lovers, partners, call it what you will.” 
 
“I won’t give you up for purchased peace, Brian, for my family’s good name, for any reason. I 
have a link to my children that will always be there. I don’t believe my loving you can be used to 
sever that link. If it complicates the link, so be it. I’ll work around it.” 
 
“It’s worth that much to you?” 
 
“And more.” 
 
Brian’s tongue darted across his lips and he resisted a sudden, strong urge to embrace Boyd and 
press his mouth against his lover’s lips. They were on the street, after all, and this was still 
Louisiana. “I’m sweating like a Russian racehorse out here. Let’s go get cool at the B&B.” 
 
Boyd leered at the implication in that invitation. “We have a meeting waiting for us upstairs. It 
has to do with your ultimate freedom. The fucking will have to wait.” 
 
“The fucking should never wait.” 
 
“Understood, but sometimes it does,” Boyd watched as the sheriff department’s panda car pulled 
up to the florist shop across the way and Fergus hauled his skinny frame out from behind the 
wheel, adjusting what had to be his pathetic package and angling his cap at a jaunty tilt before 
going inside. Boyd looked at Brian with a silent question and Brian winced at the implication.  
 
“No one gets that lonely.” 
 
“Maybe not, but it would be so like Bonnie to lead that loser on in exchange for information he 
shouldn’t be feeding her.” 
 
“I thought he looked at me a certain way when I was being booked. I wondered if he might like 
dick. Guess not.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I suspect Fergus would like anything willing to get him off. His opportunities have 
to be limited to his own hands.” 
 
“There’s an image that doesn’t need to be in my head. But thanks for silencing the sex drive. 
Good move. Now we can go back to the meeting.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I’m not too worried about getting your sex drive kicked into gear again. Let’s go. 
The sooner we get it over with, the sooner we get a break.” 
 
They stood, tossing smoked butts against the curb and went inside. On the landing of the stairs, 
where they were alone, Brian grabbed Boyd and kissed him. Boyd froze at first, but then gave in 
and held him close as he touched tongues with Brian and pressed his body next to his. Brian 
finally let him go and said, “Just wanted to give you impetus to move the meeting along.” 
 
“You slag,” Boyd teased and Brian smiled and nodded as they returned to the conference room in 
his suite.  
 
************************************************************ 
 
In the florist shop, Ted gripped the workroom table with both fists as Jimmy Chang squatted 
before him, sucking him with speed and precision. A bell rang just as he shot his load and Jimmy 
sprang up, wiping his forearm across his lips and motioning for Ted to zip up. “Could be Miss 
Bonnie!” he whispered and Ted put his cock up and zipped his jeans, smoothing his hands 
through his hair as he picked up a stray rose, as if to give himself an excuse for being there.  
 
“You said she said she wouldn’t be back until after lunch,” Ted reminded him and Chang 
shrugged, repositioning his own erection inside his jeans. He didn’t have his chance to get off due 
to the interruption.  
 
“Jimmy, you back there? I saw Bonnie take off at high speed and…” a uniformed cop walked into 
the room and silence descended as the three men stared at each other. “Who are you?” Fergus 
demanded of Ted, hiking his utility belt up, Barney Fife style. Ted, who tended to be intimidated 
by all indicators of authority, couldn’t quite muster any fear of this extreme geek.  
 
“I’m a customer. And you?” 
 
“What are you doing back here if you’re a customer?” 
 
“I’m showing him the fresh roses in the case,” Jimmy waved towards the glass-walls that 
enclosed the refrigerated space where blooms were kept before being sold, in order to preserve 
their beauty.  
 
“I’ll have this one,” Ted held up the pink rose in his hand and Jimmy took it from him with a 
grateful smile. 
 
“Lemme put a ribbon round it for your lady friend.” 
 
“That would be nice. Thanks.” 
 
They all three went out to the front and Ted noticed the lawman was still staring him down as 
Jimmy wrapped the rose stem with white satin ribbon and finished it with a bow. “Five dolla’,” he 
said to Ted, who pulled a five dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to him. Jimmy put it in the 
cash register and folded green waxy paper over the rose stem before handing it to Ted. “She’ll 
like it.” 
 
“Right,” Ted shot him a glare. Why were they playing this game? Was it fear of the same 
treatment that got Brian in trouble originally? Maybe so. Maybe it was smart. “See you,” he 
walked out with his unwanted purchase, deciding to put it in his room at the B&B, just to enjoy 
the scent.  
 
“Who the fuck was that?” Fergus demanded of Jimmy Chang, who smiled and said,  
 
“A customer, Fergie. Whatzamatter? Jealous?” 
 
Fergus smiled and took his hat off, combing fingers through weedy dirt brown hair. Since Greg 
Willis was killed, Jimmy was the only game in town. Fergus thought he never had a chance with 
Jimmy Chang, who was really cute in that small, Jet Li kind of way, and when Jimmy made it 
clear he might be interested, Fergus was thrilled. Not only could he get pleasured, he didn’t have 
to pay for it, and maybe, just maybe, Jimmy could care for him, one day. Of course it would all 
have to be on the down low, but Fergus dreamed of a love affair, something he had never had. 
And if someone as cute as Jimmy could star in it, that would be a dream come true. He used to 
think he had a shot at Greg. But Greg was too gorgeous, too hot, too scary-sexy. With Greg, it 
was all about the money. Fergus never really pictured his fantasy significant other as a man, but 
women had been horrid to him since high school. He was terrified of women. So what was left, 
really? It was just easier with men. And, surprisingly, hot. He had never been with a woman, 
except in fantasy, and his sexual experience was limited to Greg Willis's talented mouth, until 
now. 
 
Jimmy was different, maybe. So far, they had only shared a mutual hand job in the back of the 
squad car parked by the bayou a couple days after Greg’s murder. But Fergus never stopped 
thinking about it. It took him this long to get his nerve up, despite signals from Jimmy that he’d 
be willing. “I was thinking about that evening at the bayou…” Fergus said and Jimmy smiled. He 
was still horny, unrequited. He would much prefer to be with Ted, but in a town this small, a guy 
had to take what he could get. 
 
He backed to the workroom doorway and unzipped his jeans, taking out his semi-hard cock. “You 
wan’ some ‘a this, Fergie?” 
 
Fergus stared at the boner like a dog at a bone and nodded, squeezing his crotch as he pushed 
Jimmy into the room, instructing him, “Don’t call me that,” as the door closed behind them.
Current Mood:  anxious

Mar. 19th, 2005 07:37 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 56
 
Boyd felt the intensity of Brian’s gaze as Bo was giving them a list of people he wanted to talk to 
and why. Brian offered Boyd an almost imperceptible nod of his head towards the door when he 
met his eyes.  
 
“Will you excuse us for a minute?” Boyd interrupted Bo and Brian followed him into his private 
office. “What’s wrong?” he asked as Brian shut the door behind them. Brian took Boyd’s hand and 
pressed it against his crotch, pushing his erection into Boyd’s palm.  
 
“That,” he said. 
 
Boyd laughed as he gave him a squeeze. “Bo’s report gave you a hard on?” 
 
“Watching you gnaw on that pencil gave me a hard on. Watching your lips and an occasional 
glimpse of your tongue, that did it for me. I can’t wait.” 
 
Boyd moved in closer, kissing Brian’s earlobe, letting his tongue trace the bends of his ear before 
he whispered, “We have to wait.” 
 
“I can’t,” Brian pleaded, his hands roaming Boyd’s ass as he used his head to nudge Boyd into 
position for a kiss. Boyd closed his eyes, sucking Brian’s tongue into his mouth as his own cock 
became hard against Brian’s body. They probed and groped and when Brian began to unbuckle 
Boyd’s belt, Boyd asked, 
 
“Are you fixed?” 
 
“Fixed?” 
 
“Condom?” 
 
“Yeah, hold on,” Brian reached in his pocket and withdrew his wallet. After searching each 
compartment and finding nothing of interest, he frowned and said, “I think we used my last one 
at the cabin. You holding?” 
 
“No.” 
 
They looked at each other and Boyd whispered, “Kiss me again. We can get it done.” 
 
Brian kissed him as Boyd reached into his fly, gripping him, stroking his hard, overheated flesh. 
Brian moaned as his jeans snaked down his thighs to pool at his ankles, followed by his 
underwear. Boyd bared himself and Brian looked at his urgency and winced. Two hard dicks 
facing off across a narrow space, like lances drawn and ready for battle. “We can’t bareback, 
Boyd. I have no reason to believe I’m positive, but without a new test it would be careless to risk 
it.” 
 
Boyd held a finger up to Brian’s lips to silence him. He then reached down and took Brian’s hard 
cock, sandwiching it between his firm, closed thighs. He trapped it there in a tight imprisonment 
of muscle and flesh. Brian smiled and began to glide back and forth inside that warm enclosure. 
“Frottage,” Brian whispered against his ear. “Hot.” Brian took Boyd’s erection in hand and used 
his own taut thighs to return the sensation.  
 
They were of a like height, making this belly to belly masturbation possible. As they seeped 
semen, the slick texture increased their pleasure and the stroking and lunging grew more heated 
as their tongues commingled in an endless kiss. Their hands kneaded bare ass, letting the heat 
intensify.  
 
“Tighter,” Brian groaned as his need grew heavy. “Harder, do it harder.” 
 
Boyd flexed his thighs, feeling the pump of Brian’s cock between his thighs like the agitated 
piston of a well-oiled machine. His pre-cum was so voluminous that it rolled down Boyd’s thigh, 
creating a smacking sound with each lunge. Brian’s long fingers traced the crack of Boyd’s ass 
and one found a home, reaching up, towards the floor of his prostate. Boyd felt his body clench 
and then jerk as he shot his load. When Brian felt it, he, too, released thick lariats of cum, letting 
the relief course through him in waves of pleasure. They leaned against each other, still quivering 
from the muscle and nerve firings that echoed their orgasms. Finally, Brian took a step back to 
survey the mess.  
 
“Let’s make a pact. From now on, we each carry a minimum of three condoms at all times.” 
 
“Deal,” Boyd agreed as he went into the attached bathroom and returned with towels. When they 
were dressed again, they checked each other to be sure there was no residual evidence of their 
interlude and then kissed. 
 
“You’re bad, you know that, right?” Boyd teased and Brian smiled. 
 
“But you love me anyway.” 
 
“Yes, I love you anyway.” 
 
“You too.” 
 
“Me too what?” Boyd insisted with a smile. Brian winced. 
 
“You know.” 
 
“Say it.” 
 
“I love you, too.” 
 
“Was that so hard?” 
 
“It’s getting easier. That bothers me.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “Psycho.” 
 
“Lawyer.” 
 
“Ok, you win. Come on, we’re being rude. What do we say when we walk back in?” 
 
“We tell them we just had to take a few minutes for a quickie but now that our dicks are soft 
again, we’re ready to talk.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “That would work.” 
 
When they re-entered the room, Lisette was packing her briefcase and Bo was gone. She gave 
them a knowing leer. “He had an interview set up and I have to meet with Charlie. You boys 
really need to investigate the efficacy of saltpeter.” 
 
“It doesn’t work, old wives’ tale,” Brian responded. 
 
She laughed. “Are we on for dinner, Boyd?” 
 
He nodded. “Sure you want to go to Alligator Annie’s?” 
 
“Yes, I’ve missed it.” 
 
“With all the fine dining in New Orleans, you miss Annie’s?” her brother sounded incredulous and 
she patted his face as she walked by. 
 
“It’s home to me. You’re invited too, of course, Brian.” 
 
“Thanks.” 
 
She left and Boyd smiled at his lover. “Why did you look at my sister’s ass like you were a 
construction worker on a building site?” 
 
He laughed. “Your sister has one fine ass.” 
 
“Let me remind you that she doesn’t like boys and you do.” 
 
Brian grabbed him, running his hands over Boyd’s butt. “You don’t have to remind me of that. 
Want to come over to the B&B?” 
 
“Yes, but I can’t. I have some work to do, believe it or not. I’ll pick you up this evening. Six, or 
thereabouts. Bo may join us, too.” 
 
Brian nodded, kissed him and reluctantly left. Walking away from Boyd was hard to do. He began 
to feel incomplete as soon as they were separated and that feeling continued until they were 
together again. Something was missing when they were apart, something that was growing in 
importance every day.  
 
When he reached the B&B, he walked in on a lot of activity as bags were being brought down the 
stairs and Gus was crying about something, and Lindsay and Michael were arguing about 
something else. Ted picked up a couple suitcases to carry to the car and Jon was standing by with 
some invoices. Brian scooped up his son, who stopped crying immediately as he rubbed his snotty 
nose on the shoulder of Brian’s shirt.  
 
“What’s going on?” Brian asked and Michael glared at him. “We’re leaving. Isn’t that what you 
wanted?” 
 
“Um, I have the bill for the rooms….” Jon tried as Peter joined him with a nervous smile. Brian 
snatched the paper out of Jon’s hand and snapped,  
 
“I’ll take care of this.” His expression shot them an exit line and they vanished.  
 
“Gus will stay with Daddy,” Gus murmured, and Brian patted his back.  
 
“Daddy has a few things to get straightened out and then Gus can come down and visit Daddy for 
a long time, okay?” 
 
“Brian,” Lindsay warned, but he cut her short with a glare. Gus sighed and hugged Brian’s neck. 
 
“I visits Daddy now.” 
 
“Soon, kid. Soon.” 
 
The goodbyes were painful, but when he embraced Michael, his friend said, “I hope you know 
what you’re doing.” 
 
“Me too, Mikey. Me too.” 
 
“Watch out for that hag Boyd married,” Lindsay warned him with a kiss. “What a bitch.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
A final tear from Gus, a last wave from Brian, and then they were gone. Brian watched from the 
porch as the rental car pulled away and he felt unreasonably alone and more than a little scared. 
He didn’t want them here, but he didn’t want to be here, either. Except for Boyd, he wanted to 
leave this town as soon as possible. The ring of his mobile interrupted.  
 
“Brian Kinney.” 
 
“Mr. Kinney,” a Louisiana drawl said. “The bid is up to four and a quarter.” 
 
“Go as high as five-fifty. After that, call me.” 
 
“Yes sir.” 
 
Brian dialed Ted’s mobile. He answered immediately. Brian could hear Gus crying in the 
background and his heart clenched. “Theodore, while you’re in the city, stop at the bank and 
transfer another five hundred thou’ into my New Orleans account.” 
 
“Brian, what the fuck?” 
 
“Just do it.” 
 
Brian hung up. Salvation didn’t come cheap these days. When he walked into the B&B, Jon and 
Peter were hovering nervously in the corridor. Brian pulled a platinum credit card from his wallet 
and tossed it to them. “I’m going to lie down for awhile. Just give it back to me later and don’t 
take it to the diner and go crazy on my line of credit.” 
 
They giggled like overaged schoolgirls as they watched his fine ass ascend the stairs along with 
the rest of Brian Kinney. 
 
 
 
Bo entered the surprisingly luxurious executive suites of the Coulter Sugar Mill and approached 
the receptionist, an older woman, well preserved. Behind all this quiet, oriental carpets, and 
hobnail leather furnishings was a working processing mill where men and women toiled in 
cement-floored quarters to convert raw plant into sugar. The gate between these two very 
different worlds was a set of double doors that read, “Work Floor. No entry.” He smiled at the 
message that suggested no work was going on in these suites. 
 
“I have an appointment with Mr. Berenson,” Bo said with a smile as he passed her his card. She 
called an extension and another woman appeared from behind glass French doors opposite the 
work floor entry. She wore a black linen dress and Ferragamo flats. She introduced herself as 
Judy and said she was Mr. Berenson’s assistant. Bo was led to a large conference room with an 
oversized oval table and at least twenty leather chairs around it. On the walls were tastefully 
framed black and white prints showing the world of the Coulter Sugar Mills from the earliest days 
of photography to the present. At one end of the room was an oil painting of a man from another 
century identified with a brass plaque as the founder of Coulter Sugar Mills. At the other end was 
a photographic portrait of Boyd’s father, identified as the current CEO and Chairman.  
 
Bo was offered refreshments and he settled on coffee. He was handed a mug that was stamped 
Coulter Sugar Mills in silver lettering, just as Rex Berenson entered the suite and dismissed his 
assistant. He sat an open bottle of Evian water down and regarded Bo with a cold stare. His smile 
was anything but real. He wore an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch along with a 
Cartier triple band wedding ring. He slumped into a leather chair and motioned for Bo to do the 
same. 
 
“I don’t have much time.” 
 
“I appreciate that Mr. Coulter, I really do.” 
 
Rex narrowed his eyes at Bo. “It’s Berenson. My wife is the Coulter.” He had heard the joke of 
being LuAnn’s “missus” one time too many. 
 
“Sorry, I guess I just got swayed by all the Coulter imprimaturs,” Bo explained. It was bullshit. He 
did it on purpose to knock a little arrogance out of Berenson, and it worked.  
 
“What can I do for you? I know who you are. I know your political history in this area and I know 
you’re working for the man who killed Greg Willis.” 
 
“No sir. I’m working for the lawyer of the man who was wrongly accused of killing Greg Willis.” 
 
Berenson chuckled. “Yeah, right. What can I do for you?” 
 
“You’re married to Boyd Coulter’s sister, LuAnn, right?” 
 
“Yeah.” 
 
“How long?” 
 
“What does this have to do with anything? Fifteen years.” 
 
“Kids?” 
 
“We have a daughter. Again, what does this have to do with anything?” 
 
“Bear with me, Mr. Berenson and we’ll be done that much faster. Happy together?” 
 
“Of course.” 
 
“You live at the mansion, is that right? The Coulter plantation?” 
 
“Yes, we do.” 
 
“Not far from where Mr. Willis’s car went off the road, right?” 
 
“That’s what I hear.” 
 
“Where were you the night he was killed, Mr. Berenson?” 
 
“I have no particular recollection of that night, but if it was like most nights, I was home. I go 
home almost always after work.” 
 
“I see. And what’s your usual routine?” 
 
“I’m talking to you only because Lisette leaned on her sister who leaned on me. I don’t have to 
talk to you at all.” 
 
“Understood and appreciated, Mr. Berenson.” 
 
Rex sighed. “I usually run a few miles if it isn’t raining, work out at the gym in the house, if it is. I 
try to stay in shape.” 
 
“I can see that.” 
 
Rex preened a little at that remark. “I weigh the same as I did at eighteen.” 
 
“That takes work,” Bo amiably agreed.  
 
“Then I may have a light supper, watch a little television, or visit with my wife and daughter and 
go to sleep. Typical.” 
 
“Did you run that night?” 
 
“Was it the night after the big rain?” 
 
“Yes sir.” 
 
“I did run. It was marshy, but I had laid off the night before because of the rain, and I needed the 
exercise.” 
 
“What time was that?” 
 
“I watched a baseball game with my father-in-law and we ate dinner on trays as we watched, so I 
ran later than usual, before bed.” 
 
“On the bayou road?” 
 
“I always run the bayou road.” 
 
“Did you see anyone or any traffic?” 
 
“No. There’s very little traffic on that cut-through.” 
 
“Mr. Berenson, how well did you know Willis?” 
 
He shrugged. “He took care of the cars, I guess. Unless they needed real repairs, then Homer 
took them to the dealer in Lafayette. Greg didn’t have the sense to handle more than an oil 
change.” 
 
“You’re a good looking man, Mr. Berenson. Did he ever proposition you?” 
 
Rex laughed. “Yeah, he did.” 
 
“And?” 
 
“I told him I don’t bat for that team.” 
 
“When was that?” 
 
“I don’t know. A long time ago, I think.” 
 
“How did he take it?” 
 
“Okay. He seemed to think he had to hit on every man who came in that station. So I suspect he 
was used to being shot down.” 
 
“Did you ever have a homosexual relationship, Mr. Berenson?” 
 
“No, I like the ladies.” 
 
Bo reached into his satchel and pulled out a folder. His blue eyes twinkled as he looked at Rex 
and asked, “Mr. Berenson, were you ever in the Army?” 
 
He watched Rex’s color drain as his eyes shifted towards the exit and Bo chewed on his lower lip 
to repress a smile.  
 
Bingo. 
Current Mood: determined

Mar. 20th, 2005 08:37 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 57 
 
Brian awoke to hands wandering under his shirt, smoothing his skin. Lips traced his face, warm 
breath tickled against his cheek. The smell of Boyd filled his senses. He didn’t even open his eyes 
as he closed his arms around him and pulled him closer, seeking his mouth with his tongue. He 
was still dressed. Brian found his clothes intrusive. Annoying. He began yanking at them, peeling 
them off to find the flesh underneath. Hard muscle, silky skin, fine bones, each were revealed 
beneath his touch like discovering hidden treasure. 
 
“Beautiful,” he whispered as Boyd undressed Brian, too, and soon they were naked together in 
the pale gloom of early evening. Boyd moved on top of Brian, holding his wrists against the 
mattress as he stared down at him.  
 
“You’re the one who’s beautiful.” 
 
“Let’s just say we both are and call it a draw.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “You make me feel beautiful.” 
 
Brian pulled free of his grip and forced him down for a kiss. “Show me how beautiful you feel.” 
 
This time, they had lube, they had condoms, and they had privacy. Brian sat on the foot of the 
mattress when it came time to fuck and Boyd straddled him, one leg thrown over Brian’s 
shoulder, the other flat against the bed as Brian looped his arms at the small of Boyd’s back to 
support him. They moved in perfect harmony, not rushing this time, trying to keep it slow even 
when the passion mounted exponentially. “I don’t want to come,” Brian moaned against his ear. 
“I want to live in your ass forever.” 
 
Boyd smiled, ruffling Brian’s hair with both hands. “My ass welcomes you for as long as you want 
to stay, but my cock can’t take much more of this.” 
 
Brian freed one hand to grip Boyd’s erection, pumping it as he let go of control and began to 
hammer hard against his body. When Boyd shot, the spew hit Brian on the chin and he darted his 
tongue out to flick it off just as he let his own body find the relief it was craving.  
 
Calm now, lying side by side, listening to the drone of the swamp, their hands were clasped and 
resting on Boyd’s ribs. Brian looked over at him as the shadows in the room grew longer. “I 
bought it today.” 
 
“You bought what?” 
 
“The church.” 
 
“How much do you love me for not quizzing you about that?” 
 
“Is that why I love you?” 
 
“I suspect so.” 
 
“It’s one of the minor reasons. Aren’t you going to ask me now?” 
 
“You want me to, don’t you?” Boyd said with a smile and Brian nodded. “Okay, then, why the fuck 
did you buy a church? Where is it and what did you pay for it?” 
 
“It’s in the French Quarter. On Chartre Street. It was abandoned years ago by the Catholic’s. It’s 
not a cathedral, it’s just a mid-sized church but it has a rectory in the back, across the courtyard, 
and the open courtyard has a gate to the street. It’s in terrible shape so I got it at a fire sale 
price, six and a quarter.” 
 
“Some fire.” 
 
“For that much square footage in the Quarter? Are you shitting me? It’s a steal.” 
 
Boyd shrugged. He knew that was probably true, even without seeing the property. “You financed 
it?” 
 
“Cash deal.” 
 
“And what are your plans for it? The Church of the Rampant Cock?” 
 
Brian laughed. “You are so going to burn in hell.” 
 
“That’s what they tell us. Come on, tell me.” 
 
“I’m going to turn it into a gay club. I’ll put the bar upstairs in the choir loft. Main area will be the 
dance floor. The dee jay and dancers will perform in the apse. The sub-level crypt, which has 
been stripped of the dead, by the way, will be the back room. I’ll leave the confessionals up for 
some private action, too. I’m going to have that big, brick courtyard wired with party lights and 
tables and chairs where a limited menu will be served, depending on the weather. There’s a full, 
working kitchen on site. Tons of storage. The changing room will be my offices. And the rectory 
could make a great private residence. It faces away from the church and has a separation wall. 
And this is the best part. I’m going to call the club, ‘Burn’. What do you think?” 
 
Boyd stared at him. “I think it sounds like you may be hanging around these parts, Brian.” 
 
He shrugged. “Assuming it’s voluntary and not on the state, do you have a problem with that?” 
 
“I’m not sure.” 
 
“Explain before I start whining like a baby.” 
 
“I just think so much is happening to you right now, Brian. And there’s so much uncertainty 
hanging over your head. Was it wise to drop a bundle on a property in a city you really have no 
connection to? Shouldn’t you have waited until you were cleared?” 
 
“You think I’m going to be convicted, don’t you?” 
 
“Of course not! But…prudence…” 
 
“Fuck prudence! I never liked prudence, the stuck up bitch! What’s the worst that could happen, 
Boyd? I flip the property. The real estate gurus I’ve been working with tell me I stole it. And if 
you think this is something I’m doing because of you, forget it. Remember I told you I met with 
some investors in Lafayette before coming here?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“This was it. This was one of the re-development plans they had for my investment potential. 
Their idea was to turn the church into a restaurant. There are some other properties in the 
Quarter and the Garden District they want to acquire, as well, but this one really tweaked my 
interest. The whole church thing appealed to me. And when I saw the property, a bell went off. 
It’s beautiful and it’s perfect. So I stole it out from under them.” 
 
Boyd stood, walking towards the bathroom as he said, “We need to get dressed if we’re going to 
meet Bo and Lisette on time.” 
 
Brian joined him in the shower, lifting his chin to meet his eyes. “What? You don’t like it?” 
 
“It’s just a small part of me was hoping you did do it to be near me.” 
 
“I did, you big drama princess. I had the idea before, I had been thinking about it, but it was my 
desire to be with you that allowed me to pull the trigger. Jesus, you’re insecure.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Is that true?” 
 
“I don’t lie.” 
 
He hugged and kissed him as the warm water rained over them. “It’s as if someone lifted a 
mountain off my heart, Brian. I can’t even tell you how I kept so much of my feelings for you in 
check because I kept warning myself that when this was done, and you were acquitted, I’d lose 
you forever.” 
 
“Can’t let that happen,” Brian murmured against his hair. “Can’t lose each other now. Too 
important.” 
 
“It is to me.” 
 
“And to me.” 
 
They stared at each other, silently agreeing there was no time to get romantic. They dried each 
other off and dressed in silence. The weight of an unspoken commitment rested heavily between 
them. Finally Boyd said, “What about Gus?” 
 
“He can visit me anytime he wants.” 
 
“And me?” 
 
“I was kind of hoping you’d share that space with me, Boyd. If you have to stay here during the 
week because of the kids or whatever, so be it. We can work that out. But weekends would be in 
New Orleans. Look, I can’t live in this town. I hate this town. I’d visit you here, but I can’t stand 
the thought of little town living. Especially in Canard Rouge.” 
 
“I understand. But I have the kids every other weekend, Brian. Assuming Bonnie and I don’t go to 
war on that.” 
 
“And I hope that your new lawyer will be able to work it out so you can have your children and a 
partner. They can spend every other weekend in New Orleans, with us. If not, you’ll stay here 
with them. I understand. I’m telling you, Boyd, we can work it out. It’s only a couple hours 
between the two cities. We’ll see each other all the time. You can spend a few nights during the 
week in New Orleans and commute. Or maybe open a satellite office there. Maybe expand your 
practice beyond your father’s cronies. If you could practice any kind of law, what would it be?” 
 
Boyd smiled as they conducted a final primp and left the room together. “When I worked for the 
Court of Appeals, I found that I really had an ear for a persuasive appellate argument. I think I 
would be an excellent appellate specialist. I know how that court works, I know how to write a 
winning brief. I’ve authored enough judicial opinions to know what it is the judges are looking for, 
and I love the whole atmosphere of the circuit court.” 
 
“Then why not look into that as a career migration?” 
 
“Brian, may I speak with you?” Ted caught them at the foot of the stairs, and Brian frowned.  
 
“No, Theodore, I’m going out.” 
 
“It’s important.” 
 
“I’ll swing by and get Bo and Lisette and then come back for you,” Boyd offered, pausing to kiss 
Brian lightly before he left. Brian watched him go, his expression changing as he looked back at 
Ted. 
 
“What now?” 
 
“You raided your account in the New Orleans bank with that buy. You have less than ten grand in 
it now.” 
 
“I know. So?” 
 
“Brian, what’s going on?” 
 
“In my room, in my briefcase, there’s a prospectus in a red file. Read it. Ignore the whole 
restaurant idea and think gay bar instead. I want you to start putting a financial plan together. I 
didn’t want a mortgage on it, and it’s free and clear, but I don’t want to use my own money to 
rehab it. I want to get a line of credit and I want to get from you an idea of what my profit line 
may look like. How long will it take me to turn a dime of profit? Put a plan together that I can use 
to sway bankers. I want no partners, no private investors. Just some cash flexibility. I realize I 
can’t apply for money until this murder charge is resolved, I’m not crazy. But I want to do so as 
soon as it is.” 
 
“Brian, this is insane. You can’t drop huge sums of money when you may be going to jail!” 
 
“I already did. Get to work on it, Theodore. You’re going to be busy. You may want to start 
thinking temporary re-location, if not longer. This could be a full-time job for you. I need 
someone to help me. I can’t do it all alone.” 
 
“Move to Canard Rouge?” Ted looked horrified, as Brian laughed. 
 
“No, to New Orleans, you dickwit. There’s my ride. Go look at the file and give me your ideas. I 
have to go.” 
 
“Your lust for Boyd has turned your mind to mush, Brian.” 
 
Brian grinned at him. “My lust for Boyd doesn’t permit anything in me to be mushy, Ted. 
Especially not my mind. Ciao.” 
 
Ted watched him go, too stunned to react. 
 
 
At Alligator Annie’s, the four of them took a back booth and were drinking Voodoo Beer and 
eating an appetizer of fried alligator curls dipped in red sauce heated with horseradish. Bo had 
silenced them with his compelling revelations about Rex Berenson. 
 
“So, he thought that folder had his Army records, right? It didn’t, of course, it’s not that easy to 
get military records of non-public people. But I was acting on that rumor I picked up from that old 
boy who was in his unit, and I hit gold.” 
 
“Go on,” Brian prompted him as Lisette grinned and said, 
 
“I never liked or trusted that slimy bastard, but I also never suspected he went for dick.” 
 
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t,” Bo said mysteriously. “He says this Master Sergeant came on to 
him and forced him into having sex in his private quarters one day, threatening him with all sorts 
of dire consequences if he didn’t come through. Rex says he was just a kid, eighteen, first time 
away from home and scared as shit. He says he didn’t know what to do, how to get out of it, but 
the next time that bad boy came onto him, they got caught. Rex says he told the investigators he 
was forced into having sex with the man. The man says Rex came onto him to get special 
treatment. Either way, the man was out on his ass, the Army won’t play that game. But they cut 
a deal with Rex. They gave him an honorable discharge on medical grounds if he agreed not to 
prosecute or publicize the episode.” 
 
Brian and Boyd exchanged a look. “So he was sort of raped or consigned into sex?” Boyd asked 
and Bo shrugged. 
 
“The old boy in his unit says from the get-go, Rex hated the Army. His old man made him join, to 
‘make a man out of him’. Maybe Daddy saw some traits in Rex that he didn’t like. Anyway, his 
fellow soldier said Rex was a gold brick and a whiner. He kept saying he was going to find a way 
out of there. He said his goal in life was to marry a rich girl who would support him. He was very, 
very handsome, this guy says, and he knew it. He told the old boy their Sergeant was a closet 
case and that he had the hots for Rex. The old boy said he thought that might be the truth, the 
sergeant acted differently with Rex. Rex seemed to have some power with him. Rex told him he 
was going to catch him at something and use that to get out of the Army.” 
 
 
“Why didn’t this guy testify to that?” Boyd asked and Bo shook his head. 
 
“There was no formal court martial proceeding. The Sergeant was out on his ass. Rex cut his 
deal. And besides which, like all grunts, my informant hated this sergeant. He was the usual drill 
sergeant asshole the grunts all despise. So if Rex was going to clean his clock, so be it.” 
 
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” 
 
“He’s the one who caught them together. Rex set it up. The guy reported them. He’s bitter now, 
because Rex never paid up the way he promised. Rex got out, the sergeant got the boot, and this 
old boy had to serve his full term. He’s not pleased with Mr. Berenson. He says he wouldn’t be 
surprised if he liked dick, because when he walked in on them, he saw that Rex was nine miles 
down the sergeant’s throat and that he seemed to be liking it fine. He even complained later that 
he should have let him come first.” 
 
“What does Rex say about it?” Lisette asked. 
 
“He plays the victimized kid, of course. That he was sexually abused. That it only made him more 
homophobic than before. That the Army discharged him with honor and that it wasn’t his fault. He 
hates queers. As for his reputation, he says he told his wife what happened before he married 
her. About the ol’ boy who walked in on him, Rex says he’s lying. That he’s tried to blackmail him 
and he got nowhere with it. He said the guy filed statements about it at the time of the incident 
and that’s the official record. He’s right about that. We can’t prove or disprove anything, really.” 
 
“What if we talk to this sergeant?” Brian suggested and Bo shook his head. 
 
“Blew his brains out two weeks after the discharge. Couldn’t live with the shame.” 
 
“Christ.” 
 
“Yeah, all so pretty-boy Rex could get out of the Army.” 
 
“What does this buy us, then?” Brian asked. 
 
“It says that Rex, at least once in his life, went for dick. It makes me wonder if he decided Greg 
Willis might be a nice little diversion on the odd occasion he could get him alone. I don’t know 
what it means, yet. I’m still working on it.” 
 
“Maybe he’s not balling Bonnie,” Boyd observed and Bo looked at him and smiled. 
 
“I’m still working on that one, too, Boyd. I have some ideas.” 
 
Brian didn’t know what he was paying for Bo to do this investigation, but he did know whatever it 
was, it wasn’t enough.
Current Mood: accomplished


March 21st  4.47am SWAMP FEVER  - Chapter 58
 

After leaving his dinner companions, Bo took a pre-arranged detour on his way home. He drove 
down a lonely road near the bayou that was shadowed by cypress trees. The trees resembled 
oversized zombies in tattered graveclothes as they held out bent arms, trailing moss, and 
reached towards his truck. Lonely, god-forsaken place, the bayou, Bo reminded himself. Perfect 
location for a murder. The murky water concealed horrors well, and what it didn’t hide, the 
wildlife devoured. Sins erased by nature. But not all sins. Not all.  
 
On the horizon, a light burned in a distant cabin, and he heard a cacophony of dogs barking long 
before he reached the gate to the fence that enclosed the property, providing safe space for this 
motley collection of mutts. A sign affixed to the gate read, “PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO 
TRESPASSING, BEWARE OF DOGS”. Bo let his engine idle, his headlights illuminating the noisy 
greeting committee. Not one of them looked capable of harming a proverbial flea. In fact, more 
than one was healing from some ailment or other that was being treated with bandages, 
lampshade neck collars to keep them from scratching at themselves, and one unlucky fella was 
even missing a limb. It was as if he had stumbled onto the property of some diabolical scientist 
who experimented with animals, but Bo knew better. 
 
Bo reached in the glove box and took out a baggie full of dog biscuits, tossing them over the 
fence and creating a free-for-all among the pack. A wedge of light spilled onto the porch of the 
cabin as the door opened and a voice called out, “Are you feeding my damned dogs?” 
 
“It’s the only way to shut them up. Put them away so I can drive in without smushing one of 
them.” 
 
A sharp whistle brought the pack running and once they were all inside, the screen door was 
closed, signaling Bo it was safe to open the gate. He did so, drove though, and fastened it behind 
his truck. He parked on the gravel pad next to the owner’s truck and walked up to the front door, 
taking off his hat as he entered the house. A couple dogs wandered over to greet him, a cat or 
two rubbed against his calves, and the owner stared at him, hands on hips. 
 
“You’re late.” 
 
“Sorry Charlie,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Had a business dinner.” 
 
“Well, at least you’re here now,” Charlie responded, throwing her arms around Bo’s neck and 
kissing him squarely on the lips. He held her close, reaching up to brush his fingers through her 
sensibly short salt and pepper hair. They would say no more about Bo’s business or her business, 
which were at polar opposites. They had made that pact long ago, when they started seeing each 
other after Bo’s wife passed away. He worked for a powerful defense attorney and she prosecuted 
criminals. Occasional clashes between their two worlds were inevitable, so they left business 
outside the door.  
 
“How’s the book coming?” Bo asked as he sat down on the sofa, immediately pounced upon by 
two rambunctious kittens. He had reconciled himself to Charlie’s menagerie, and she sighed as 
she switched off her computer.  
 
“I’m at an impasse. I can’t think of a reason why the killer was being blackmailed. None of the 
usual reasons seem to work. But it’ll come to me. Want some coffee? It’s fresh.” 
 
“Not if it means I have to get up.” 
 
“I’ll serve you, big daddy,” she said with a laugh. He watched her leave the room, following her 
with a smile. Charlie wasn’t any man’s traditional idea of beauty. She was a little mannish, a little 
plain, but there was such unblemished integrity about Charlie, such no-nonsense sensibility to 
her, that Bo wouldn’t trade her way of presenting herself for a dozen glamour queens.  
 
When they met for that first tentative cup of coffee at the diner six months after Bo’s wife died, 
Bo knew there was something there between them. They had always had a begrudging respect 
for the other’s abilities, but since they were on opposite sides of the goal line, the tension was 
there, too. And as long as his wife was alive, Bo flirted like any other guy, but the thought of 
cheating on her never made it into his reality. Only after the initial crush of his grief had passed, 
was he able to ask Charlie for coffee and only then because they happened to cross paths at the 
courthouse. After a few minutes of tentative conversation, Bo asked her the question that had 
always been at the back of his mind. 
 
“Are you a lesbian?” 
 
She laughed at him. “A lot of people think so.” 
 
“And?” 
 
“Nope. I like men as much as the next girl. I just don’t believe in making myself into something 
I’m not in order to trap a man, and there aren’t many men worth trapping in these parts. Those 
who may be worth something have been married for years. I’m long past the point where there’s 
a class of single men in my age group.” 
 
And that was that. A friendship began that evolved into more. She returned with two steaming 
mugs of café au lait and handed him one as she sat beside him, The kittens migrated to her lap. 
“You look tired, Bo. You aren’t a spring chicken. You’re pushing too hard.” 
 
“I’m in the thick of it, that’s for sure.” 
 
“I saw Lisette Coulter today.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“Of course, I won’t get into anything we talked about, you can get that from her, but on the social 
side, I always liked Lisette and damn did she grow up to be a beautiful woman!” 
 
“She most certainly is.” 
 
“I remember her as a child. Skinny, dandelion hair, freckles…but adorable. She loved animals and 
spent a lot of time helping me with mine. I hadn’t spent much time around kids, but Lisette was 
different. A grown up in young skin. Then when she was a teenager, going through the usual 
angst, made even worse by the fact she liked other girls, I’d like to think I was there for her. 
Non-judgmental. When her father kicked her out, I went to talk to him, but he was having none 
of it. She stayed with me for a couple weeks while she got her feet on the ground. Spent most of 
that time crying. Eventually she pulled herself out of it and told me she’d show him. She’d work 
her way through college and become a big success on her own, and damned if she hasn’t.” 
 
“She’s a good lawyer, a good person. Have to say it’s a waste, though. Woman that pretty. Some 
man is really missing out.” 
 
Charlie glared at him. “That’s such typical male bullshit. She has a partner, Bo. I suspect Petra 
would be pretty put out if she missed out on Lisette because some wanker got her.” 
 
Bo chuckled. “I stand corrected. What about that other sister?” 
 
“LuAnn? I never knew her very well. I know Boyd, of course. Legal community. He’s a doll. Afraid 
for him now, but we won’t get into that. But LuAnn is outside my sphere. She was a little beauty 
queen and then she eloped with that Rex Berenson, the slick type of handsome and smooth-
talking man you just know is trouble. Her family went into anaphylactic shock. Had a baby pretty 
quick, and sort of disappeared into that whole country club set her mother operates in. Waste, 
really. No reason to think she’s not as smart as the other two. Wait, maybe not. She married that 
Berenson creep.” 
 
“What do you know about him?” 
 
Charlie cut him a glare. “I know enough about you to know when you’re fishing, old man. Cut it 
out. Do your own work.” 
 
Bo laughed. “Retreating now.” 
 
“I don’t know about you, but I could stand to go to bed early tonight.” 
 
He grinned at her. “Is that an invitation?” 
 
“It’s a statement of fact, you dirty old man. You coming?” 
 
She held out a hand to him and he took it, letting her haul him up as he said, “Nothing better to 
do. Can’t dance.” 
 
She wrapped an arm behind his back as they walked towards her bedroom together. 
 
********************************************************************** 
 
 
Brian and Boyd entered the B&B, laughing at a low volume about some shared joke. They were 
headed upstairs when Ted called to them from the dining room. Brian groaned and diverted, 
taking Boyd by the hand and making him follow. Ted was seated at the table with Brian’s folder, a 
calculator and a laptop.  
 
“Whassup, Theodore?” Brian asked impatiently as Boyd picked up the color photographs of an old 
church and scanned them.  
 
“I can’t begin to calculate what the rehab costs will be, Brian. This prospectus you were given 
contemplates a completely different use for the structure and also contemplated selling off the 
rectory to help finance the place. Judging from the inspection reports, the place is in pretty good 
condition, structurally, but I need to talk to an architect about the refurbishment. I have a gut 
feeling it’s going to cost a fortune. You’re going to be starting the business so far in the red, it’ll 
take you quite a while to turn profitable.” 
 
“What are you trying to do?” Boyd asked, instantly seeing the potential for making Brian’s vision 
come true. The church had features that would be perfect in a club.  
 
“Put a document together that I can use to pitch to bankers so I can get the money for the 
conversion. After I’m acquitted, of course.” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “First of all, I have a good friend who’s an architect in the Quarter who specializes 
in re-classing old buildings for updated usage. He was an early collector of Jared’s work. It’s nice 
to spend money on a gay professional, don’t you think? Keep the cash in the community.” 
 
“Great,” Brian agreed. “Let’s set up a meeting.” 
 
“Ballpark, how much do you think you’ll need, Ted?” Boyd pressed and Ted shrugged. 
 
“Conservatively and if there are no major construction issues? A million.” 
 
Boyd nodded. “That would be my guess, too. Including the rectory?” 
 
“Yeah. If we wanted the first class kind of job I suspect Brian would insist upon.” 
 
“Damned right,” Brian agreed. “Why bother if it’s sub-standard? Or even standard? It has to be 
the gold standard to make it worthwhile.” 
 
“I’ll back it,” Boyd volunteered and Brian smiled and shook his head. 
 
“No.” 
 
“What’s wrong? My money too good for you?” 
 
“I’m not willing to use my own money, Boyd. I want to use working capital.” 
 
“You outlaid the full price on the purchase. To layer that with cash out of pocket to rehab the 
place would be very pricey. But if I came in on the rehab portion only, you wouldn’t have to worry 
about putting a prospectus together.” 
 
“You have that kind of money lying around?” Ted asked and Boyd shrugged. 
 
“I can get it without much effort. It’s convertible.” 
 
“No,” Brian repeated more firmly. 
 
“I’d expect to be repaid,” Boyd said with a smile. “It’s not charity.” 
 
“It’s not happening, either.” 
 
“Why are you being so stubborn?” 
 
“Because he was born that way,” Ted mumbled and Brian cut him a glare.  
 
“Isn’t it past your bed time, Theodore? Why don’t you toddle off to your little bed?” 
 
“Why don’t you kiss my ass, Brian?” Ted stood and left the room, and then the B&B. Neither Brian 
nor Boyd cared to ponder where he was headed. Boyd took over Ted’s abandoned chair and 
began to flip through the papers in the file with more interest. Brian sat down beside him. 
 
“We can’t do this, Boyd. I can’t take your money.” 
 
“I’m not giving you my money, Brian. I’m investing my money. In your idea. Which I find 
brilliant. I expect to make a nice return on it.” 
 
“It’s too much pressure. I’ll worry much more about succeeding if your money’s at risk.” 
 
“That’s a good thing. Look, the advantage is, we could get started on it now. Instead of having to 
wait for your trial to end.” 
 
“And if I lose? What then?” 
 
“You won’t lose, Brian. And if you do, I’ll finish it while we appeal and keep on appealing until you 
get out. That way, you’d have a going business to return to.” 
 
Brian smiled and reached over to kiss him. “You must be a great lawyer, because you’re a rotten 
businessman.” 
 
“No, I’m not. I make smart investments. You’re going to succeed with this thing, I can feel it. I 
have confidence in you.” 
 
“I don’t want to take on a partner.” 
 
Boyd met his eyes. “Are we still talking the business?” 
 
Brian shrugged.  
 
Boyd reached over and touched his lover’s face, feeling Brian snuggle against his palm. “I am 
your partner, Brian. If I can be your partner in life, why can’t I be your partner in business?” 
 
Brian leaned over to kiss him, and Peter walked in and cleared his throat, beaming at them as 
they moved apart. “Sorry, gentlemen, I thought I heard the door and I was going to put out the 
lights.” 
 
“It’s okay,” Brian said, standing and taking Boyd by the hand. “My partner and I were just going 
upstairs.” 
 
“Partner?” Peter repeated with a happy gleam. “Are you saying that in the business sense or the 
personal sense?” 
 
“Yes,” Brian responded, saying nothing more as he and Boyd disappeared upstairs. 
Current Mood: determined

Mar 22nd, 2005  7.35am SWAMP FEVER - Chapter 59
 

A special thanks to my partner, Randall, for all the legalese in this chapter. Live-in legal advice 
can save a lot of research time. 
 
 
Brian was almost asleep, his naked body pressed close to Boyd’s, when Boyd suddenly sprang to 
a sitting position and exclaimed, “Usufruct!” 
 
Startled, Brian lifted himself on one elbow and said, “What the fuck?” 
 
“Usufruct!” Boyd repeated. 
 
“What the fuck?” Brian said again, and Boyd switched on the lamp, laughing at his lover’s 
shocked and somewhat worried expression.  
 
“When I was glancing through those papers downstairs, I thought I saw something about a 
usufruct. I have to check it out or it will make me crazy.” He got up, stepping into the closest 
piece of clothing, which happened to be Brian’s discarded jeans. Brian liked seeing Boyd in his 
jeans, but he also liked that he left the waist unhooked because Brian was just a hair slimmer 
than Boyd. Ego.  
 
“Where are you going?” 
 
“I’m going to get those papers.” 
 
“Boyd…” 
 
“It’s okay, stay put. I’ll be right back.” 
 
“Bring me a beer.” Brian sensed they’d be up for awhile. Boyd smiled, nodded, and crept 
downstairs, barefoot, leaving Brian to ponder just what the fuck a usufruct was. Boyd came back 
with the folder and two beers, sitting cross-legged on the bed as he thumbed through the 
proposal from Lafayette and other documents. Brian sipped his beer and watched him, finally 
requesting a definition. 
 
“Just a minute,” Boyd pleaded, lost in concentration. “Where’s your contract of sale on the 
property?” 
 
“I don’t have it yet. I just funded the bid. The real estate guy I was working with is going to 
deliver it to me.” 
 
Boyd winced. He isolated a sheet of paper, showing the church, and a description of the property. 
He read it again, and then glanced at Brian. “Did you read this before you bought the property?” 
 
“Well duh, Boyd. I’m not a moron.” 
 
“Did you notice the footnote? ‘The diocese is selling this usufruct…’ et cetera?” 
 
“So? I figured that’s some church term. What the fuck is it?” 
 
Boyd sighed. “Maybe it means nothing to you, Brian. But when you told me you got that piece of 
prime real estate in the heart of the Quarter for such a bargain price, I thought that’s really 
unusual. Now I understand.” 
 
“I knew it was a bargain. I like bargains. But what are you saying?” 
 
“You bought a usufruct, Brian.” 
 
“No, I bought a church. If you don’t tell me what that word means and soon, I’m really going to 
kick your ass right out of my blue jeans.” 
 
“Sorry. A usufruct is one of those weird things under the Napoleonic Code that governs Louisiana. 
Although, it’s really Greek in origin, but I digress. It’s a legal interest in a property. It gives the 
usufructary a life interest in the real estate. During your lifetime, you can make whatever use of 
the property you desire, derive all income from it, alter it, improve it, but when you die, it reverts 
back to the original owner. In this case, the Catholic diocese. You bought a life estate, Brian.” 
 
Brian felt his stomach clench. “No one explained that to me.” 
 
“You need a lawyer to be involved in a sale of this magnitude, Mr. Kinney. You aren’t the all-
powerful Oz, you know? You don’t know everything about everything.” 
 
“But what does it really change? I mean, I can still make it into a gay bar, right? Still live there, 
still make a fortune off of it, can’t I?” 
 
“Sure, for as long as you live. But you can’t sell it, alienate it. It’s tied to your life in being. You 
can’t transfer it to someone else’s life. And it won’t be an asset of your estate.” 
 
“So if I kicked, the Catholic Church would suddenly be the proud owner of a thriving gay bar in 
the middle of New Orleans?” 
 
Boyd smiled at the irony. “Exactly.” 
 
“Holy shit.” 
 
They both chuckled. Boyd then said, “It’s not funny, Brian. It changes everything. For one thing, I 
can’t invest my own money in it. In making an investment decision, I need to know we can sell it 
if we have to, or if, God forbid, you got mowed down by one of those donkey carts in the Quarter, 
I’d still have my interest in the club. But this way, I’d have no security. I love you, but I’m not 
that stupid with money.” 
 
“I’m not asking you to be stupid with money,” Brian said with an edge. He was feeling exposed by 
Boyd’s revelation. “I didn’t ask you for your fucking money to begin with!” He reached for his 
cigarettes and lit one as Boyd fixed a gaze on him. 
 
“Down boy. I’m not punishing you, Brian. I just can’t figure out a way to use my own money if all 
you have is a life estate. I don’t expect you to die any time soon, but it’s the limitations on 
alienation that concern me. I’ll research usufructs, I’m not all that conversant in this area of the 
law, but I’m almost certain there are limits to alienation.” 
 
“And since you think I’m going to jail, or maybe being executed, for murder, then it’s a bad bet to 
invest in my life time.” 
 
Boyd took a long swig of his beer and sat the half-empty bottle on the bedside table, finished with 
it. “You really turn into a drama queen when someone points out a flaw in the perfect veneer of 
Brian Kinney, don’t you?” 
 
“Fuck you, Boyd.” 
 
“We already did that.” Brian didn’t smile and Boyd reached for him, feeling him tense. “Unless I 
knew I could get my money out of the property almost immediately, which is unlikely in this case, 
I’d be crazy to drop a bundle in that business under these present circumstances. But I think I 
can fix this, Brian. It just may cost you a little money.” 
 
Brian met his eyes, his expression shifting slightly from angry to desperate. “How much money 
and how can you fix it?” 
 
“The Coulter family gives a lot of money to the Catholics. A lot. We have contacts in high places in 
the Church. That’s one fact. Another fact is, the church may not be too thrilled to know it remains 
the ultimate owner of a gay bar. Or even that a de-sanctified structure is being used for such a 
sinning enterprise,” he smiled and Brian almost returned that gesture, but not quite, still in panic 
mode. “Anyway, they’re stuck, because a usufruct would give you unlimited rights of usage. You 
can improve the hell out of the property, so to speak. If it were a farm, for instance, you could 
reap the crops until the land gave up. I’d propose they give you clear title for a small 
enhancement of the purchase price. Then your problem is solved and so is theirs. And I’m back in 
as an investor.” 
 
“How small?” 
 
“The clear title of that property has to be worth close to two million, Brian. Now that I’ve seen the 
pictures and read the square footage involved, I think even that estimate may be a little light. But 
they put their hypocritical ass in a sling when they offered a clear usufruct and they will want out. 
Your other option is to back out of the sale, and that, too, could probably be accomplished for the 
loss of your good faith money. How much was that?” 
 
“Twenty-grand.” 
 
“Ouch, but still…would you want out?” 
 
“My choices are bumping my offer to what level versus walking the deal?” 
 
“I’d offer them a million and not a penny more. I think we have a shot. My family’s influence with 
them coupled with the embarrassment factor, we could make a good case. And if you got it for a 
million, free and clear, it’s a fucking steal, Brian. I’d put up the extra cash myself.” 
 
“No. I’d prefer to do it. But I wasn’t planning on putting in another four-hundred grand on the 
ground. Shit.” 
 
“I could loan it to you.” 
 
“Boyd, shut up about that, okay? I have my own money, thanks.” 
 
“You have an expensive trial to pay for. Rod doesn’t come cheap.” 
 
“I have that ear marked. Look, between the trial and the extra investment, this bar would 
become pretty much my make or break proposition. It wouldn’t be a lark. It would have to 
succeed or I’d be in trouble, financially.” 
 
“Push comes to shove, you could flip that property and double your investment in a matter of 
days, Brian. The only reason the price was so low in the auction was the fact they were selling an 
interest, not a title. And if you flipped the property, it wouldn’t be subject to a ¨usufruct, so you 
could up the price accordingly.” 
 
Brian smiled and reached out to kiss Boyd on the lips. “Smart and beautiful. I hit gold. Rich, too. 
How did I get so lucky?” 
 
“Don’t be too happy about it. Fucked up, too, remember? Plenty fucked up.” 
 
“Aren’t we all? Will you help me, Boyd?” 
 
“Of course I will. You mean as a lawyer as a banker or both?” 
 
“I’ll put up the extra cash for the title. Can you broker the deal?” 
 
“Lawyers aren’t supposed to sleep with clients,” Boyd teased. Brian smiled at him. 
 
“In that case, if I have to choose, I’ll get another lawyer.” 
 
“I’ll take the ethical chance. Let me think about the best approach. I’ll make some calls tomorrow. 
I’m sorry I had to burst your bubble, but….” 
 
“Who you calling bubble butt?” Brian pulled him on top of him. “You’re saving my stupid, rube 
ass, Boyd. You think I don’t appreciate that even though it makes me mad to be caught out like 
that?” 
 
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure at first. You snapped my head off.” 
 
“Defense mechanism. Sorry.” 
 
“Prove it,” Boyd teased and Brian switched off the lamp as he pulled him down for a kiss that was 
a prelude to more.  
 
**************************************************************** 
 
Lisette looked up as Boyd walked into his loft the following morning. She had stayed at his place, 
as they arranged, and she smirked at him. “Missed you last night.” 
 
“Shut up,” he said, feeling his face grow red. Damn, being a blond could be a hassle. Blushes 
came so easily. He poured himself a mug of fresh coffee and said, “I just came home to shower 
and change. Did you sleep well?” 
 
“Yeah. In your bed, in fact, since I figured you wouldn’t be back. Sit down, Boyd. Let’s talk about 
Charlie and my conversation with her.” 
 
He did so, noting that Lisette was beautiful even without makeup and wearing an oversized t-shirt 
publicizing an AIDS walk benefit. “Any surprises?” 
 
“No surprise that she wasn’t willing to dismiss. I told you they need someone else to hang before 
they’ll cut him loose. But I definitely got the feeling she wasn’t real impressed with their case. No 
forensics other than his spew in Willis’s gut, and the motive is fuzzy at best. Plus the fact some 
other guy also deposited his spew and who the hell is that? When did he do Greg? She made an 
offer to reduce the charge to second degree. I rejected that out of hand. I suspect they’ll go to 
manslaughter before the trial. That’s sufficiently significant that Brian would have to decide. My 
advice would be not to cut that deal, but it’s not my freedom on the line, not to mention his life. 
The autopsy, which I got a copy of, shows the weapon was probably a baseball bat or something 
similar.” 
 
Boyd stared at her. “Where the hell would Brian get a baseball bat? That’s crazy.” 
 
“I don’t know.” 
 
“Look, his former boyfriend, Justin, got bashed with a baseball bat when they were together. 
Brian’s told me about it, how horrible it was, how traumatic for him and devastating for Justin. 
The last weapon he’d pick up would be a fucking baseball bat.” 
 
“Ok, good to know. We’ll explore that with him. You play baseball with the local team, right?” 
 
“Yeah, so?” 
 
“You have the equipment, I presume.” 
 
“So?” 
 
“Brian’s been over here. Missing anything?” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Brian’s well hung, but smuggling a baseball bat out in his jeans might create a 
scene.” 
 
She glared at him. “Humor me. Missing anything?” 
 
“Lisette, I keep my baseball gear in a sports bag in my truck. With all the rain, we haven’t played 
in a couple weeks. I haven’t had any reason to get into it.” 
 
They looked at each other, then both got up and walked down to his SUV. Boyd opened the back 
hatch and unzipped a black Nike bag. His glove, a couple baseballs, his cleats and two bats were 
inside. “It’s all here,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Just as I knew it would be. You suddenly 
suspect Brian?” 
 
“Of course not. But we need to investigate everything, Boyd. What’s this?” She motioned to some 
dark streaks on the bat.  
 
Boyd shrugged. “Dirt, I guess. You hit the ball, you throw the bat down and run. That’s how 
baseball works. Bats get dirty.” 
 
“Boyd, don’t touch it. I’m not a forensics guy, but that clump of mud could just as easily be a 
clump of brain matter or dried blood and I swear to God, that’s a blond hair.” 
 
Boyd stared at it and frowned at her depiction. “I have blond hair, it could be…I don’t know what 
it could be. You think?” 
 
“I don’t know. But don’t touch anything else. Just lock the car and we’re calling Bo.” 
 
“Why Bo?” 
 
“Because he knows this kind of thing. And then I’m calling Rod.” 
 
“Lis, do you think someone planted this in my bag? To frame me or to frame Brian?” 
 
“I don’t know, Sissy Boy. But I don’t like the implication.” 
 
“If it is the bat…what do we do with it?” 
 
“I’ll let Rod tell me that, but I think I know the answer. Even under the attorney-client privilege, 
the defense attorney does not have the right to conceal physical evidence from the prosecution. 
We’d have to turn it over. And it may just conflict my firm out of the defense.” 
 
“I’ll get rid of it. I’m not part of the defense team. Brian can’t lose you and Rod and he can’t have 
any real evidence linking him to a crime he didn’t commit! I won’t let that happen, Lisette.” 
 
She grabbed his arm and shook him. “Listen to me, bro’. I know you love Brian, and I don’t 
believe Brian has any connection to that bat, if it is the murder weapon. But you’re an officer of 
the court, and you have no choice in this matter. You’re destroying no evidence, and not another 
word about it. Lock the car and let’s go call Bo.” 
 
Boyd sighed and nodded, knowing she was right. But if it was the murder weapon, who took it 
and who put it back? And why? Just who were they trying to frame? Brian or himself? He slipped 
the key in his pocket as he followed his sister upstairs, feeling suddenly sick and frightened for his 
lover. 
Current Mood:  anxious

Mar. 23rd, 2005 04:10 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 60 
 
Ernesto Rodrique stared at the three of them, noticing varying degrees of concern ranging from 
Boyd’s borderline panic to Lisette’s fear for her brother to Bo’s skeptical doubt. Rod crossed his 
feet on the edge of the long table in his conference room, displaying shoes made by hand in 
London to fit his rather small feet.  
 
“Let me get this straight,” he said in that way he had of pretending to be confused while clarifying 
the facts for a jury. “The two of you suddenly decide maybe Brian took a bat from Boyd and 
whacked Greg Willis with it, so let’s see if we can find it and thus improve the state’s case? Or 
find it missing and thus improve the state’s case? Is that how it worked?” 
 
“We never thought Brian did a fucking thing, Rod!” Boyd’s anger and fear bubbled over into 
defensiveness. “He didn’t.” 
 
“I take your point, Rod,” Lisette said and Rod nodded. 
 
“Well you should, Ms. Coulter. I expected more from you. Here’s the thing, folks. This is 
Louisiana. We don’t have real law here, we have this weird amalgamation of real law and 
Louisiana law. Under Louisiana law, a defense attorney can even be put on the stand to testify 
about how he came in possession of a murder weapon and then get out of the witness chair and 
go right on defending the perp. We all know how it works. Defense lawyer gets a call from a man 
he’s defending of murder. Man says, ‘I’m on my way into your office. I’m on the bridge to Algiers, 
crossing the Mississippi. The smoking gun is on the seat beside me and I’m about to throw it out 
the window and into the river.’ What’s the lawyer to do?” 
 
“Tell him to make sure he clears the railing?” Bo quipped and Rod grinned at him. 
 
“No. But good guess. If the dumb motherfucker just threw the gun out the window, fine. His 
choice. But if he tells the lawyer he’s going to, the lawyer is obligated to tell him no, and to bring 
that fucking gun to him and he turns it over to the police. A lawyer cannot conceal physical 
evidence, nor can he instruct a client to dispose of physical evidence, the privilege doesn’t stretch 
that far even in this state. Here’s what we know. According to the autopsy, Willis may have been 
killed by a bat. May have been. The bat in Boyd’s car may be blood stained. It may be the murder 
weapon. Here’s what we don’t know. We don’t know who had access to it, since in that little town, 
no one locks their cars. Anyone could have taken it out and put it back. Boyd hasn’t played 
baseball in a couple weeks because of the weather, so he hasn’t had occasion to get into that 
bag. Something else we know. Murderers don’t routinely kill someone, then put the murder 
weapon back in their car and drive around with it for days on end, waiting for it to be discovered. 
That’s not human nature. Especially not if the killer were someone as smart as Boyd or Brian.” 
 
“Now I’m a suspect?” Boyd asked and Rod shrugged. 
 
“I’m not the police. But it was your bat, your car. Do the math. Here’s some other cogent facts. 
Brian doesn’t have a ride. His car’s impounded. If he stole Boyd’s bat to use later on Greg, 
suggesting some kind of weird pre-meditation, how did he smuggle it out to the cabin with no one 
noticing? Either Boyd or that other ol’ boy who drives him around? And then what did he do? Greg 
is over at the cabin blowing him, he leaves, Brian picks up the bat and on foot he trudges along 
that muddy swamp road and somehow catches up to Greg and knocks his block off? That’s not a 
story a jury will buy. It’s stupid. Homer saw Greg leave the cabin, so it’s not as if Brian banged 
him there and drove him to the crash site and walked back.” 
 
“So that’s good?” Boyd asked and Rod shook his head. 
 
“No, that’s one scenario. But try this one. You and Brian are in on it together. You take your kids 
home, come back, and the two of you hunt Greg down and bash him.” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“I don’t know why, Boyd. But here’s a third possibility. You put your kids to bed and went looking 
for Greg because you were jealous. You didn’t intend to kill him, just to warn him away from your 
boyfriend, but you lost control.” 
 
“And I kept the bloody bat as a souvenir?” 
 
“See that’s the part that makes no sense.” 
 
“None of it makes sense. We’re being framed.” 
 
Rod nodded. “I agree. That’s the most likely scenario. Someone wants you, or him, or both, to 
get burned. But my dilemma is this, Boyd. I’m Brian’s lawyer. My job is to create reasonable 
doubt in the mind of the jury. In order to do that, I deflect the evidence to other likely players. 
And in this case, one of those likely players is you. So here’s the drill. We turn in the evidence, as 
we are required to do. Lisette, you’re off the case. Boyd, you’re off the team. You need to seek 
counsel on your own. I can give you some recommendations. Your sister can’t defend you 
because of her link to this defense.” 
 
Boyd felt his stomach lurch. “You’re going to blame me?” 
 
“I’m not going to blame anyone specifically. But I am going to blame everyone but Brian, and 
make the jury believe there is a whirlpool of reasonable doubt, because that’s what I get paid to 
do. From this point on, I am instructing Brian that he can’t discuss his defense with you, Boyd, or 
you, Lisette. I know he’s your boyfriend, Boyd, and I know this is going to be rough on the both 
of you. My hope is that it turns out well for all concerned. But for now, if you intend to keep 
seeing him, you have to wall off this case.” 
 
Boyd stood. “If I intend to keep seeing him? What’s that supposed to mean? Are you going to tell 
Brian not to see me anymore?” 
 
“No, I’m not, but I am going to tell Brian he can’t discuss this case with you anymore. And I 
expect you, as a lawyer, to remind him of that if he slips. When it comes out that you two are 
lovers, and it will, the jury will hate him and hate you right off the mark, because you’re faggots 
and they’re bred to hate faggots. They’ll want one or both of you to be guilty on that fact alone. 
It’s going to get ugly. If your relationship can survive this shitstorm, it can survive anything. You 
get a lawyer on board before we turn in that evidence, Boyd. I’ll talk to Brian on the phone. Bo, 
for God’s sake turn up the heat and find that fucking killer.” 
 
“I’m working it, Rod.” 
 
“Work it harder. One more thing, Boyd. You may as well start telling those who don’t know and 
who you don’t want to hear it on the grapevine that you’re gay. It’s out. Accept that. You two 
boys put it out on the street and you can’t pull it back in.” 
 
“I’m sorry if I fucked this up, Rod,” Lisette said and he glared at her. 
 
“We’ll talk later. Give your brother our usual list of competitors. That will be your last official act 
as part of this defense team. You two can go, Bo, you stick around. Boyd, I’ll work with your 
lawyer to coordinate the turnover.” 
 
They left and Lisette looped her arm through Boyd’s as she led him to her office. Together they 
chose a lawyer and called him. Boyd hired him over the phone after giving him the basic 
information and agreed to stop by his offices on the way out of town to sign some papers and talk 
through the case. When they hung up, he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, wondering if 
the pain he was feeling was the first stages of a migraine. “This is so fucked up.” 
 
“I know. I’m sorry, Boyd.” 
 
“I don’t see why you’re in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
 
“Yes, I did. The one thing a defense attorney doesn’t do is look for physical evidence that may 
implicate a client. That was so dumb. But I was worried about you, Sissy Boy. And now 
someone’s framing you, or Brian, or both. My bet is Bonnie. She’s just evil enough to do it.” 
 
“Why would Bonnie kill Greg Willis?” 
 
“I don’t know. I just don’t get it. But you didn’t. I know you, and it’s not in you. I can’t think of a 
reasonable scenario in which Brian did it, so who did? And why frame you? Or maybe frame Brian 
by implication? It’s so murky.” 
 
“It’s funny, Lis. I’m more worried about this driving a wedge between Brian and me than I am 
being framed for a crime I didn’t commit.” 
 
“I know. I’m worried about that too, Boyd.” 
 
“I love him. I can’t lose him.” 
 
“I know. Boyd, you have to tell Daddy and Mother that you’re gay. You know that, right?” 
 
He nodded. “I do know that. I will.” 
 
“It won’t be pretty.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“Do you want me to come with you?” 
 
He smiled at his brave sister. “No. The harder part for me is telling my kids because how do you 
make kids that young understand a sexual concept? Being gay is all about sexual orientation. I 
don’t know how to do that, but I intend to tell them.” 
 
“Baby, don’t put yourself in harm’s way in order to protect Brian. Don’t let them make you a 
suspect to throw doubt on his guilt. You never know how that shit will play out in court. You could 
get in real trouble. I like Brian a lot, I really do, but not at the cost of my brother.” 
 
He smiled and reached over to kiss her cheek. “He didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, that means someone 
else did. They’re the one we’ll put in harm’s way, Lis. I’d better go. I’ll be in touch.” 
 
“Please call me after you talk to Daddy.” 
 
“Ok. I hope you aren’t in too much trouble with Rod.” 
 
“We’ll work through it. Everyone makes mistakes. I was too emotionally involved in this case. It’s 
better that I’m off it.” 
 
She watched Boyd leave and then picked up the telephone and called her partner. “Petra,” she 
said as she finally allowed tears to fall. “I need you.” 
 
 
 
Brian was seated on the front steps of the B&B, smoking and listening to the late afternoon drone 
of the swamp. At this hour, the heat peaked and the humidity seeped under clothes, swept 
through hair, cloying and thick and almost visible to the naked eye. Rush hour in Canard Rouge 
consisted of exactly ten cars that drove past the B&B headed for suburban homes. Brian counted 
them. There were other routes out of town, but this was the main road. A few people waved at 
him with Southern friendliness towards a stranger, but those who knew who he was pretended he 
was invisible.  
 
The Church Lady, the one who started all this furor, walked by with a bag of groceries and looked 
straight through him as she went. He glared daggers at her back, watching them land with bloody 
precision. When Boyd walked up and sat beside him, Brian wanted to grab him and hold on tight, 
but he refrained and offered him a smoke. Boyd took it, touching Brian’s hand as he lit it for him. 
 
“Well,” Brian said with a smile. “How ‘bout them Mets?” 
 
Boyd smiled back. “Hell of a game.” 
 
“Weather’s hot.” 
 
“Yep, humid too.” 
 
“May rain.” 
 
“Looks like.” 
 
“The Versace collection just hasn’t been the same since his death, I don’t care what the fashion 
pundits say.” 
 
“You just can’t replace genius.” 
 
They both laughed and Brian reached over, letting his temple momentarily rest on Boyd’s 
shoulder before he sat up again. “I wish you had never met me. I wish none of this happened to 
you.” 
 
“I don’t, Brian. I really don’t. No matter what happens now, it was worth it. I love you.” 
 
“I love you, too, but…” 
 
“No but. We love each other. It’s all good. The other shit is not about us, it’s about some 
misconception, that’s all. A mistake. We won’t talk about it, but I want you to know, I never hurt 
anyone. I never touched Greg Willis. Not sexually, and not to injure him.” 
 
“I know that, Boyd. Why are you telling me that?” 
 
“It had to be said. I need you to know it.” 
 
“Fine, it was said, now shut up about it. Want to go have dinner?” 
 
“Yes, but I have other plans. I’m dining with my parents at the club.” 
 
Brian glanced at his lover’s profile. “Okay. Why?” 
 
“I’m telling them I’m gay.” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“Because.” 
 
“Are you telling them about me?” 
 
“Do you not want me to?” 
 
“Why would you? It won’t make their lives more glowing.” 
 
“Unless you tell me otherwise, I’ll let circumstances decide that, Brian.” 
 
“You do what you need to do, Boyd, but don’t let them…don’t let anyone…rip us apart, okay? I 
can deal with all this crap that’s raining down on our heads, but I can’t deal with that. I can’t deal 
with losing you.” 
 
“I know. I feel the same way.” 
 
Brian laughed and shook his head. “The invisible powers of the universe think I’m the funniest 
thing around. They love to test me, to give me a moment’s happiness and then toss it around 
with violence and pain and see where it comes out.” 
 
Boyd pushed a shoulder into him. “Egomaniac. It’s not all about you, you know. I’m in this, too.” 
 
“I know. I’m sorry.” 
 
“Shut up.” 
 
They both smiled. Brian looked up at the Mustang parked in front of the B&B. “When did you get 
a real car?” 
 
“It’s a rental. My truck’s impounded while they go over it with whatever they go over it with.” 
 
Brian winced. “Shit.” 
 
“Don’t worry about it. I feel like a teenager driving this ‘Stang.” 
 
“Right.” 
 
“I have to go, Brian. I’ll come by after dinner, if that’s okay.” 
 
“You’d better.” 
 
Boyd reached over and squeezed Brian’s hand, watching the emotion pass over his lover’s face. 
“We’ll be fine.” 
 
Brian just nodded, suddenly unable to talk. Boyd forced a smile of encouragement as he got into 
the Mustang with a final wave. Brian watched him drive away, his image blurred by unshed tears 
that welled up in his eyes and then vanished with a blink. 
Current Mood:  crushed


Mar. 24th, 2005 04:51 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 61
 
“Do you want to go to dinner?” Brian said to Ted, looking a little sheepish as he leaned in the 
archway leading to the dining room. Ted was crunching some numbers on his calculator and he 
paused to look up at Brian. He had a sarcastic retort ready, but something in Brian’s demeanor 
suggested that he not say it. Instead, he replied, 
 
“Sure.” 
 
They walked in silence to the diner and sat across from each other in a booth, staring at their 
menu choices for the night. They both settled on the special. Red snapper throats, parmesan 
risotto and green beans with garlic and slivered almonds. “Debbie’s diner should be ashamed,” 
Ted teased. “This place has some of the best food I’ve eaten anywhere.” 
 
Brian didn’t crack a smile as he said, “The first time I saw Boyd he was bringing me food in jail. It 
came from this diner. I thought things could be worse. I had this hot looking lawyer who fed me. 
I was right. Things could be worse, and then things did get worse.” 
 
“Yeah,” Ted felt Brian’s pain and wondered what happened. Ever since Brian got a call that 
afternoon from his lawyer, he was in a complete funk. He saw him talking to Boyd on the porch, 
and thought that would at least perk him up, but then Boyd was gone and Brian’s blue mood 
deepened. “Is something going on, Brian?” 
 
“Nothing I can talk about. Privileged stuff.” 
 
“Okay.” 
 
Brian paused, twisted his tall glass of lemon-freshened ice tea in a semi-circle and then said, “I 
guess I can tell you this. They think Greg was killed with a baseball bat. How ironic is that?” 
 
Ted winced, knowing how that knowledge had to affect Brian after Justin’s brush with death by 
the same instrument. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry, Brian. I know how it must make you feel.” 
 
“No, you don’t. I know you’re trying to be nice, but you don’t know. None of you knew what I 
went through when Justin got bashed. None of you. Look, it was Justin who suffered most, not 
me, and the focus should have been on him. But that bat took me from the best day of my life to 
the worst. I saw it happen, Ted. It was all in slow motion. I saw it coming and I couldn’t get to 
him soon enough to stop it.” 
 
Ted had never discussed this with Brian, who foreclosed that possibility. “You saved his life by all 
accounts, Brian. If Hobbs had struck Justin again, it likely would have killed him, and you were 
able to intervene in time to prevent that.” 
 
“But not in time to stop him from suffering for weeks in a coma and then a long rehabilitation, 
followed by permanent damage. The point is, it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up at 
that prom.” 
 
“You don’t know that. Justin says that guy was out for him, had attacked him at school, was 
gunning for him. It could have happened anyway.” 
 
Brian glared at him. “It wouldn’t have. I provoked it by dancing with Justin in front of everyone.” 
 
Ted knew he couldn’t dissuade Brian of his guilt, so he said, “God, Brian, if you were going to 
murder a person, the last weapon you’d pick up would be a baseball bat.” 
 
“That’s a fact.” 
 
“I’m sorry. It must bring back terrible memories for you.” 
 
“I feel like the karma police are following me around with big bats to whack people around me 
and create havoc in my life. I didn’t much care for Greg, but he didn’t deserve that. I think of him 
lying there, head bashed in, covered in blood. It all comes back to me.” 
 
Ted reached over to pat Brian’s arm where it rested on the table, but Brian withdrew from his 
touch and frowned, searching internally for strength. “Where’s Boyd?” Ted asked, wishing he 
were here, because Boyd was the one person Brian would allow to comfort him. 
 
“Dinner with mommy and daddy.” 
 
“Oh.” 
 
“He’s coming out to them tonight.” 
 
“Ouch,” Ted searched Brian’s face for a reason, but Brian’s face rarely gave anything away. 
Tonight was no different. “Does he think they’ll be okay with it?” 
 
“No, Ted. They kicked his sister out of the family for being gay when she was eighteen or 
nineteen. I suspect having one more of their children come out will be less than stellar for them. 
It’s because of me that he’s having to do this. To alienate his family.” 
 
Their food arrived. It was perfectly prepared, as always, and Ted dug in while Brian pushed at it 
with a fork. “It’s not because of you, Brian,” Ted reassured him. “It’s because Boyd is gay and 
he’s finally decided to be true to himself. Maybe you gave him the strength he needed to do that, 
but the reason he’s coming out is because of his own sexual orientation, not because of you. You 
always eat the blame for everything. The fact is, Justin got bashed because he’s gay, and vocal 
about it, not because of you. Being gay in this world is a real challenge and all of us who have the 
balls to come out and live our lives for ourselves deserve a medal. I applaud Boyd for coming out. 
He should thank you for leading him out of that closet once and for all.” 
 
Brian stared at Ted, and then smiled. “Sometimes even a blind pig can find a truffle, Ted.” 
 
“Meaning what?” Ted insisted as Brian finally took a bite of food and then another. 
 
“Meaning sometimes even you can make some sense.’ 
 
Ted laughed. “Fuck you, Brian.” 
 
Brian smirked at him, continuing to eat. Ted finally spoke. 
 
“I’m sorry we weren’t there for you when Justin got bashed, but you put up these fences, and 
you’re so ferocious that people don’t dare go over them.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“Why do you do that, Brian?” 
 
“It’s a defense mechanism.” 
 
“I know that, but why?” 
 
“I don’t know why, Ted. Maybe because of the way I was raised. What makes anyone try to be 
self-protective? Partly because you all have an image of me and I feel compelled to live up to that 
image, to not disappoint. You expect me to be an asshole, I’ll be an asshole. Some little part of 
me fears if I’m not that asshole you’ve assigned me to be, will you guys stick around?” 
 
Ted stared at him, realizing how huge that confession was for Brian Kinney. “I never thought it 
mattered if we stuck around.” 
 
“It matters.” 
 
“We would stick around, Brian. We have. You’re a friend. We all care for you.” 
 
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.” 
 
“I’m sorry. But sometimes you won’t let us care.” 
 
“Fair point.” 
 
They grew quiet, concentrating on their meal, both digesting the truths that they shared over a 
quiet dinner in Canard Rouge, Louisiana. 
 
 
 
The country club’s dining room overlooked the golf course. As the last light of day faded, a wispy 
fog rolled in over the manicured grounds, and a couple greens-keepers moved through the mist 
like ghostly images of long dead players. The Coulters were given a prime table near the plate 
glass wall, flickering candlelight casting an amber glow over fine white linen. Fresh yellow roses, 
each bloom as big as a fist, were bunched in a glass bowl on the table and their scent provided a 
delicate counter to the wine that the three of them shared.  
 
First courses were consumed, and the entrees were expected. Boyd felt the silence descend on 
them like the fog, and then he said, “I have to tell you both something that isn’t going to make 
you happy.” 
 
“Then why do it, Boyd? The world is unpleasant enough,” his mother prompted and he shook his 
head. 
 
“Sometimes you have to discuss things that are unpleasant, Mother, and this is one of those 
times.” 
 
“Does it have anything to do with that unseemly murder?” His father asked. “The one that man 
you put up in the cabin committed on our land?” 
 
“Brian didn’t kill anyone, Dad. He’s just an easy target and he’ll be cleared. But this isn’t about 
that. This is about me. I’m gay.” 
 
The silence deepened as his parents exchanged a look and finally his father spoke. “No, you’re 
not.” 
 
Boyd almost laughed. “Yes, Dad, I am.” 
 
“How can you be gay when you were married for years and have two children?” 
 
“I tried to go straight, that’s how. I wanted to be straight. Did you never suspect that Jared Hall 
and I were lovers?” 
 
His mother looked appalled. “That black boy?” 
 
“He wasn’t a boy, he was a man. I lived with him in New Orleans for two years. Didn’t any bells 
go off over that?” 
 
“You seemed infatuated with him,” his father admitted. “But he was an artist, that dynamic type 
who always pulls a crowd. Why would we believe something sick was going on?” 
 
“It wasn’t sick. It was love. I was in love with Jared.” 
 
His mother winced. Boyd wondered if it was the gay thing or the interracial thing or both that 
made her look as if she smelled something nasty. “Then explain why you left him for Bonnie?” 
 
“Because in a weak moment, I knocked Bonnie up, and because Jared and I just couldn’t make a 
go of it for reasons I couldn’t control.” 
 
“How can you be gay and knock up women at the same time?” his father asked with an insistent 
glare. “Sounds to me like you’re just confused.” 
 
“Sex is sex, Dad. Many of us can perform with women. Being gay is more than just whom you 
choose to sleep with. It’s how you see yourself, who you want to spend your time with, make a 
life with. And I’m over that phase of trying to fit in. I won’t be sleeping with any more women.” 
 
“You’re just going to have to overcome it, Boyd. You can’t live your life that way. That artist guy 
is dead, no going back. Get past it and remain a productive part of society, not some god damned 
freak who may look like a man, but who acts the part of a woman.” 
 
“I am past Jared. And I’m not acting the part of a woman. But I am gay, Dad. Get over it. It’s 
going to be public, so you may as well get used to it.” 
 
“Public? You’re planning to drag the family’s name through the mud?” 
 
“No, I’m not. But it will be dragged through the mud by circumstances, more than likely. Bonnie 
will try to make this a custody issue and if Brian goes on trial, our relationship will be vetted in 
open court.” 
 
“Brian?” His mother looked shocked. “That murderer? You’re involved with that killer?” 
 
“Stop calling him that. I told you, he never hurt anyone. It’s a bullshit charge. And yes, Mom, I’m 
in love with Brian and he’s in love with me. That’s the way it is.” 
 
His father shook his head. “This yankee boy has pulled some veil over your eyes, seduced you. 
You’re lonely and he moved in and took advantage. He’s a predator.” 
 
“It wasn’t like that, Dad.” 
 
“You can’t sleep with your clients. They’ll disbar you.” 
 
“He’s not my client. Not since we’ve been…together.” 
 
“He trying to get free legal off of you.” 
 
“He has money, Dad. He can pay his own legal fees.” 
 
“What is it with you, Boyd? Even as a queer you don’t know what the fuck to do! First some low-
rent nigger and now some fucking, murdering yankee?” 
 
“Language, Junior,” his wife cautioned him and Boyd glared at his apoplectic father. 
 
“Don’t call Jared a nigger and don’t call Brian a murderer and don’t call me a queer. I’m telling 
you this because I felt like I had to, before you heard it from someone else. Now I’ve said it. 
You’re just going to have to get used to it. You can kick me out of the family, like you did Lisette, 
and never see me or my kids again, if that’s what you want. Or you can try to understand. Your 
choice.” 
 
“You’re the one who won’t see those kids again, Boyd. Bonnie will cut you off and I’ll be right 
there with her. Kids don’t need to be around that kind of perversion. What is wrong with this 
family? We didn’t raise you or your sister this way. We raised you to be good Christians, 
productive citizens. How did you both end up as a couple of freaks?” 
 
“I think Lisette and I are very productive, Dad, and we’re good people. We work hard, we’re good 
at what we do, and I’m a very good father to my children, whom I adore. For the record, Brian’s a 
father, too. My kids aren’t exposed to any ‘perversion’ around me. You think I have sex in front of 
them or something? I love them very much. They’re the one good thing to come out of my 
horrific relationship with their mother. No one is taking them away from me, not her, not you. As 
you well know, my money from the family is safe from your punitive response, so you can’t hold 
that over me. All you have is whatever I’d lose by being disinherited when you die, and frankly I 
don’t need it. The other weapon you have is to emotionally distance me from the family. I see it 
this way, Dad. You never were very comforting to have as a parent, and neither were you, 
Mother. But you’re my parents, and I’d be sad to lose that. However, if it requires me to live the 
rest of my life as a lie to make you welcome me into your home, than fuck that. I’ve wasted 
enough time already. I have my children, I have my sister and now I have Brian. I’ll get by.” 
 
“Don’t count on those kids, Boyd,” his father said with a glare. “And don’t count on that 
murderer, either. They don’t let fags have conjugal visits.” 
 
“I lost my appetite,” Boyd stood, leaving his napkin on the table. “Think it over and if you want to 
talk again, sometime, you know where to find me.” He walked away, aware that other diners 
were watching and whispering as he went. They couldn’t hear what was said, but the evidence of 
a rift in the all-powerful Coulter clan was obvious. As he waited for the valet to bring his car, he 
punched in Brian’s number on his mobile. Brian answered immediately. 
 
“How did it go?” 
 
“Just as I expected. I’ll swing by in fifteen minutes, Brian. Can you run out to the car? I don’t 
want to come in.” 
 
“Sure.” 
 
“We’ll go to the mill.” 
 
“Okay. Boyd, are you asleep?” 
 
Boyd found a smile. “I love you, too,” he said and ended the call. 

Current Mood:  discontent

Mar. 25th, 2005 06:24 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 62
 
Brian emerged from the darkness on the front porch of the B&B, sprinting to Boyd’s car as he 
pulled up. He tossed a small bag in the back and immediately rested a hand on the back of Boyd’s 
head and pulled him close for a kiss. Boyd didn’t resist. There was no traffic on the street and it 
was dark. Besides, he needed this intimacy with Brian. As the kiss ended and he put the Mustang 
in gear, Brian said, 
 
“Was it a Hallmark moment?” 
 
“More like a Godfather moment. Blood and bodies everywhere.” 
 
“I’m sorry, Boyd.” 
 
“Fuck them,” Boyd said with a frown, lighting a cigarette and then letting one hand entwine with 
Brian’s. “It was exactly what I expected, Brian. They never fail to live down to my expectations. 
The thing that bothered me most was a comment by the old man that he’d support Bonnie’s 
efforts to keep my kids away from me.” 
 
“That’s just rage talking. He’ll get over it.” 
 
“You don’t know my father, but I have a few weapons I haven’t pulled. Look, do we have to talk 
about it? I just want to relax and be with you and stop thinking about Morticia and Gomez.” 
 
Brian laughed. “I can get into that. I had a nice dinner with Theodore. We actually conversed like 
two grown-ups, for a change.” 
 
“Good, because you can be really dismissive with him. It makes me cringe sometimes.” 
 
“Am I?” 
 
“Yes, Brian, you are. I know he does things to irritate you, but sometimes you treat him like 
Igor.” 
 
Brian laughed. “A.B. Normal.” 
 
“Huh?” 
 
“Young Frankenstein. I love that movie. Igor gets the wrong brain for the mad doc, reading the 
tag on the jar containing the brain as ‘A.B. Normal’ instead of ‘Abnormal’ ”.  
 
Boyd glanced at his lover’s profile in the glow of the dash and smiled, “What hump?” 
 
Brian laughed at that line from the movie and said, “Ah, sweet mystery of life at last I’ve found 
you…” 
 
“I love that scene where Madeleine sings that to the monster after he fucks her. Classic. And how 
about the one where every time Cloris Leachman is around the horses whinny?” 
 
Brian chuckled. “He was my….boyfren’!” 
 
They both laughed and then Boyd observed, “This is a pretty gay discussion.” 
 
“No, it isn’t. If we were discussing ‘Meet Me in St. Louis’ with such specificity it would be a gay 
discussion. Young Frankenstein is gender and orientation neutral.” 
 
“So that’s how it is, huh?” 
 
“You have so much to learn.” 
 
“And I was afraid we’d have nothing to talk about with your case off limits.” 
 
They pulled up to the mill and Boyd locked the car, having learned his lesson about leaving a car 
unlocked. As they climbed the stairs, he said, “I’m negative.” 
 
“What? Did you go out and get tested?” 
 
“No, I mean I suppose I’m HIV negative, too, I was when I had my bloodwork done at my last 
physical and I haven’t been exposed. But I mean my blood type. I was thinking about that tonight 
for some reason. I’m Rh negative.” 
 
Brian sat his bag down on the table as they entered the loft. “So?” 
 
“Bonnie’s positive. There’s this thing that can happen if a woman is negative and her fetus is 
positive. But it doesn’t seem to matter if the woman is positive and her fetus is negative. Belle is 
negative, like me. Mac is positive, like Bonnie.” 
 
“Boyd, you’re scaring me. What the fuck are you talking about?” 
 
“The fact that Greg swallowed a load from an O blood type. I wonder if it was positive? Because 
while O is the most common blood type, O negative is very rare, something like two percent of 
the population. I’m sure it shows up on the screen. It’s a very simple protein test.” 
 
“I could swear you told me you were O positive, but maybe I just presumed it.” 
 
“I might have had a slip of the tongue, Brian. I never really think about it. But the fact is, I’m O 
negative.” 
 
“You need to tell that to your lawyer and he needs to get that fact to the D.A. Now speaking of 
slipping the tongue…” Brian reached for him and Boyd went into his arms, but spoke before they 
could kiss.  
 
“It’s important to me that you believe I’m not implicated in this, Brian. Funny thing is, it’s not 
that I don’t want you to think you fell in love with a murderer, it’s because I don’t want you to 
think I’m the kind of man who would let you be on the rack for something I did.” 
 
“Boyd, I know someone planted that bat. I know it. You know it. We aren’t supposed to be talking 
about this stuff. But for the record, I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with a guy who was pinning a 
murder rap on me.” 
 
“Okay, subject closed.” 
 
Now, they klssed. Boyd danced Brian towards the bedroom where they undressed each other and 
fell back on the bed. Brian moved down Boyd’s torso with his kisses, lingering at his dick to suck 
it into full erection, and then he shifted his position so Boyd could return the pleasure at the same 
time. Lying on their sides, facing each other, heads buried in opposing crotches, they fed on each 
other like famished sucklings, swallowing infusions of warm protein and then Brian stretched out 
above Boyd, covering him with his body as the final wave of his orgasm faded.  
 
Boyd smoothed his hands through Brian’s hair and over his back and shoulders, letting them rest 
on his firm ass. “You’re so beautiful, Brian,” he whispered. “I love the way your skin feels. I love 
your body. I love you.” 
 
Brian smiled. “I can’t get enough of you. Every time I touch you, I just want more.” 
 
“You can have more.” 
 
They kissed, and then kissed again and let it hold, tongues probing, hands roaming, Brian’s pelvis 
rubbing against Boyd’s. He paused to say, “Do you have a dildo?” 
 
“Why? Can’t get it up?” Boyd teased and Brian smiled.  
 
“That’s not a gun I’m pressing to your tummy, Mae West. Do you have a dildo?” 
 
“Do I look like a Lesbian?” 
 
Brian raised himself to his arms and peered down at his lover. “Are you embarrassed to admit to 
me that you have a dildo? Because let me assure you, back at home, I had a collection of them. I 
know fucking well that you’ve jerked off with a dildo up your ass, Boyd. Produce it.” 
 
Boyd sighed and pushed Brian off of him so he could get up. Brian watched with amusement as 
he went to his closet, top shelf, box at the back, and came back with a standard issue, mid-sized 
latex phony cock. “You keep it in the Ark of the Covenant back there?” Brian teased and Boyd 
glared at him. 
 
“I have kids that come over here. I can’t let them run across this thing,” he flopped it in the air, 
and Brian laughed. 
 
“Does it vibrate?” 
 
“No, I really don’t care for that.” 
 
“You know what? Neither do I. It doesn’t seem to add much. Let me see it,” he handed it to Brian 
as he got back in bed and Brian flicked the realistic head of it with his tongue, giving Boyd’s cock 
a sympathetic twitch. While he fellated the fake organ, he moved Boyd’s hand to his own dick, 
indicating he wanted him to stroke it. Boyd stroked Brian in one hand, himself in the other, 
envying the attention the dildo was getting from Brian’s knowledgeable tongue.  
 
“It’s already hard and you can’t make it shoot,” Boyd teased and Brian reached for the lube, 
slicking it up. He then slipped on a condom and used the lube on Boyd before handing it to him. 
 
“Put some on me. I want you to stick this up my ass while I fuck you. I want to feel it press hard 
against my prostate. Milk it for me.” 
 
Boyd smiled, thrilled by the invitation. Brian took him from the side so Boyd would have better 
access to his ass, and they quickly slid into a common rut, with Brian’s hand reaching around to 
pound Boyd’s erection as they fucked. The combination of penetrating and being penetrated fired 
Brian up and his cry was almost painful when he finally allowed himself to release. Boyd had 
already spilled his load on the sheets and they lay there for a couple moments, trying to find a 
calm center.  
 
“We stink,” Brian finally whispered and Boyd laughed. 
 
“Spunk and sweat will do that to you. Let’s go shower.” 
 
Brian brought the dildo in hand, soaping it and rinsing it before tossing it in the sink to dry. They 
then turned to the task of washing each other, enjoying the simple, erotic pleasure of hands 
gliding over silken skin. When the water was off and they were toweling each other dry, Brian 
said, 
 
“Did you hear something?” 
 
Boyd shook his head. 
 
“Seriously, I hear something. Like a rapping noise, kind of faint.” 
 
They grew silent, and then Boyd heard it too. He pulled on a robe and Brian wrapped a towel 
around his waist, following him out. The noise got a little louder as they entered the main room, 
and they both looked towards the front door. It was as if a tiny animal was hitting the door with 
its claws, seeking entrance, the sound was that faint.  
 
“Don’t open it,” Brian said, suddenly tense and Boyd sighed. 
 
“Jason and Michael Meyers are fictional, Brian. It’s okay. This is Canard Rouge. Is someone 
there?” He addressed the noise and a voice came back, 
 
“Daddy, it’s Belle. Open the door.” 
 
Stunned, Boyd threw the lock and slid the door open staring down at his daughter. She looked a 
little dirty, the gumbo from the roads coating her legs that were left bare by shorts. She also 
looked scared and upset. She threw herself into his arms and he picked her up, feeling her 
spindly legs wrap around him. She got a glimpse of Brian in the towel before he disappeared into 
the bedroom to dress. She was sobbing, unable to explain her presence or anything else until the 
tears stopped. Brian re-joined them, dressed in his jeans and shirt, his feet still bare. He was 
unsure what to do, if he should stay in the bedroom or go to the other bedroom or just leave. 
Belle solved his problem by climbing down from her father and going over to Brian, encircling his 
hips with her arms. He smoothed her ruffled hair and gave Boyd a searching look. Boyd just 
shrugged and went into the kitchen, pouring a coke over ice, her favorite treat.  
 
When he gave her the tall red plastic tumbler, she released Brian and sat down on the couch, 
staring up at the two men as she sipped the soft drink. “Belle, how did you get over here?” Boyd 
demanded and she sighed. 
 
“I walked.” 
 
“You walked all the way from Mama’s house?” 
 
She nodded. 
 
“In the dark?” 
 
She nodded again. 
 
He deliberately restrained his anger over that foolish adventure, for it was anger fueled by fear 
for her well being. A murderer was loose in Canard Rouge. Who knew what his limits may be? 
And a child walking alone on dark country roads was never safe. “We need to call Mama and let 
her know that you’re okay. I’m surprised she hasn’t called me.” 
 
“Mama’s not home.” 
 
“Where is she?” 
 
Belle shrugged. “Jimmy’s babysitting and he fell asleep. He always falls asleep. Mac’s asleep, 
too.” 
 
“What happened, Belle? Why didn’t you just call me if you wanted to see me?” 
 
“I did call you, Daddy! I left you a message.” 
 
He picked up the receiver and heard the telltale stutter dial tone that announced he had 
messages waiting. Shit. He hung up. “You could have called my mobile.” 
 
“I couldn’t remember that number.” 
 
“Okay, we’ll talk about why you can’t ever do this again later, Belle. Right now, you want to tell 
me what’s wrong?” 
 
“I love you, Daddy.” 
 
“I love you, too.” 
 
“I hate Mama.” 
 
“No, you don’t.” 
 
“Yes, I do. She says bad things about you. I hear her. She says she never wants me and Mac to 
see you anymore. She says you’re a fag. What’s a fag, Daddy? And she says Brian’s a fag, too. 
And a killer.” 
 
Brian rolled his eyes as Boyd looked at him, and Boyd replied, “Brian is no killer, Belle. He was 
wrongfully accused of a crime. It happens all the time. But they’ll catch the real killer and Brian 
will be fine.” 
 
“I know he’s not a killer, Daddy,” she said irritably. “He has a sweet face.” 
 
Brian was shocked by that. He was used to being called handsome or hot. He was not accustomed 
to being told his face was sweet. That description moved him. “Thanks, Belle.” 
 
She smiled shyly at him. “You do.” 
 
“So do you.” 
 
Boyd enjoyed their exchange, but then Belle asked. “What’s a fag, Daddy?” 
 
Brian and Boyd looked at each other and Brian winced as Boyd began to think of all the ways he 
could answer that question. Finally he said, “It’s a very nasty way of saying there are some men 
who want to have other men rather than women as their love interest.” 
 
“You mean like Brian?” 
 
“Yes, I mean that I love Brian and he loves me, Belle. A lot of people think that’s wrong, that only 
men and women should love each other, but God made some of us different than that and we 
can’t really help the way we feel. It’s not bad, it’s just another way of loving. The real word for it 
is homosexuality.” 
 
She blinked and then asked, “Are you going to marry Brian?” 
 
“Men can’t marry men in Louisiana.” 
 
“Why not?” 
 
“Because it’s against the law. But I love Brian very much and I want him to be in my life as if we 
were married.” 
 
She nodded. “I want him to be in your life too, Daddy, because since you met Brian you aren’t 
sad and lonely anymore.” 
 
Brian reached over and kissed her on top of the head. “Your Daddy made me happy and not 
lonely anymore too, Belle. I love him very much.” 
 
“Honey, why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll get you some clean clothes from your room and 
we can talk about this after that.” 
 
“Can I take a shower in your bathroom, Daddy? I like it better, it has all those shower spouts.” 
 
He smiled. “Sure you can.” He suddenly thought of the dildo and said, “Wait! Let me…” 
 
“It’s okay, Boyd,” Brian interrupted. He had already taken care of that. Boyd gave him a grateful 
smile and Belle went off to shower as Brian followed Boyd to the kid’s room where he gathered 
her clothes. Brian slipped his arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. 
 
“She’s a great kid.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“You handled it fine.” 
 
Boyd turned to look at Brian as he said, “I’m going to kill Bonnie.” 
 
“No, you’re not. But we are going to get her.” 
 
“What do you mean?” 
 
“We’re going to gut her.” 
 
“How?” 
 
He smiled. “I have a plan.” 
 
Boyd narrowed his eyes at his lover, wondering what evil he was up to, and anxious to hear it. No 
plot was too heinous for his ex-wife. No retribution too vile. He waited for Brian to spill his plot, 
but Brian said, “First, you call her and tell her that her daughter is here and is safe. Otherwise 
you look complicit in her leaving.” 
 
“She doesn’t even know she’s missing.” 
 
“Even better.” 
 
“You’re very Machiavellian, aren’t you, Mr. Kinney?” 
 
“You have no idea,” Brian said with a smile, as he picked up the phone and handed it to Boyd. 
Current Mood: creative


Mar. 26th, 2005 04:46 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 63
 
Boyd had been firm with Bonnie on the phone. He told her Belle was asleep and that he wouldn’t 
wake her. He agreed to drop her off at her school’s summer program in the morning and then 
stop by the florist shop so they could talk. Bonnie knew that she was in no position to argue. After 
all, she left her kids with Jimmy who was unreliable to the point of allowing Belle to wander out 
alone at night. 
 
Boyd would feel sorry for Jimmy and the hell he would have to pay with Bonnie, if not for the fact 
that he failed to protect his daughter. As far as he was concerned, he deserved his fate. With 
Belle sound asleep in her bed, Boyd and Brian were able to relax together in his. Letterman 
played at low volume on the television and Brian glanced at the colorful painting by Jared Hall 
that was a silent sentinel from the past, watching their relationship unfold.  
 
“How much would that go for at auction?” he asked idly and Boyd shrugged.  
 
“I don’t know for sure. More than a church.” 
 
“Seriously?” 
 
“Jared has a huge Asian market. There’s still money in Asia and many avid collectors.” 
 
“Do you insure them?” 
 
“Yeah, but I’m sure they’re grossly underinsured right now. I got the evaluations on them years 
ago. Why are you asking so much about them?” 
 
“I guess I feel a little outshone by your ex.” 
 
“He’s dead, Brian. No reason to be jealous of Jared.” 
 
“Tell me how it was near the end. Not of your affair, but of his life.” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“Humor me.” 
 
“Some of it I just know from mutual friends and rumor. Some of it I know from phone calls and 
contact with him. Some of it I just filled in the blanks.” 
 
“Do you have to caveat everything?” Brian said with a smile and Boyd laughed. 
 
“I’m a lawyer, sue me.” 
 
“I have enough legal battles going on right now and so do you. Tell.” 
 
“He didn’t do well after we broke up, not for awhile. He was tricking a lot, tweaking, not taking 
care of himself and not working very much. He needed money. I gave him some. I think he hit up 
Artie, too, but if Artie held true to his character, he never gave him a dime.” 
 
“Sometimes tough love is better. Maybe you were enabling him.” 
 
“I know, but he would have lost his studio, Brian. Without the ability to paint, he would have 
shriveled up and died. I couldn’t let him be homeless. Could you do that to Justin?” 
 
Brian laughed. “I’ll be homeless before he is. The little shit is a hard charger.” 
 
“Okay, good, well Jared was mentally ill.” 
 
“I know. I’m not playing the ‘my ex is better than your ex’ game, Boyd.” 
 
“Jared wanted to get back together, but I was determined to make it work with Bonnie. Belle was 
a tiny baby, and Bonnie’s true colors were still under partial cover. Besides which, I couldn’t get 
pulled back into that bi-polar vortex that was his world. I was out of coping skills. I tried to be a 
friend to him. I offered to pay for shrinks, meds, whatever. I did pay his rent. He went into a 
working frenzy. That was a good thing. When he was working, he was less likely to spiral. He 
began to get some notice, some reviews, some press. He had a show. I went to it. His work was 
highly praised and sold out, but Jared was a shock to me. He looked so thin, so haunted. He was 
all over me, trying to seduce me, to get me to stay. I went back to his studio with him, but we 
didn’t have sex, that wasn’t the point. He just needed someone to talk with. Artie showed up. He 
was drunk and he was furious. He accused Jared of being the white man’s nigger by showing his 
work in a gallery owned by a white dealer. I reminded Artie that he wouldn’t show Jared’s work, 
not even when he really needed the exposure.” 
 
Brian laughed. “I’m sure he loved that.” 
 
“He swung at me and Jared just went nuts on him. They got into it, but Jared got the better of 
him and Artie escaped. After I was sure that Jared was asleep, I drove back home and then I got 
into it with Bonnie for being gone for so long. She suspected me of sleeping with him. Can’t say 
that I blame her, but she was wrong.” 
 
“When did you see him next?” 
 
“At his funeral.” 
 
“Oh. Sorry.” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “He seemed to be doing better. He had some recognition and must have been 
making some money. He called me less often. I heard he had a boyfriend. Must be that cop who 
called on me in New Orleans. The next thing I know, he’s dead. Shot himself.” 
 
“Did that surprise you?” 
 
“Not that he committed suicide, but how he committed suicide surprised me. He always told me 
he was scared of guns. Growing up as he did, guns were everywhere and he was tired of feeling 
at risk because of some dumb, juiced up black kid was waving a piece around. When Jared talked 
about suicide, he talked about pills and whisky. He would hoard barbiturates as if to be sure he 
could do it if he made that decision. When we were together, I’d search them out and flush them 
periodically. That he would die by gunshot shocked me. Plus the fact he was so vain about his 
good looks and he didn’t look so good after he blew off a good portion of his skull.” 
 
“I suppose they investigated it?” 
 
“His brother had a suicide note that he gave the police. Artie said Jared left it at his gallery after it 
was closed for the evening, slipped it under the door. Artie found it when he happened to stop by 
to pick something up, and he went over to Jared’s because he said he was worried about him. He 
found him dead.” 
 
“By then I take it Artie was showing his work?” 
 
“A few things that he had picked up on the secondary market. Jared was still within the realm of 
affordability then. Artie offered to buy back his work from me even before Jared died. But Jared 
wasn’t letting him exhibit him. He was still bitter.” 
 
“Then why would he hand deliver a suicide note to Artie?” 
 
“You don’t understand, Brian. I can’t tell you how many suicide notes I’ve received from Jared. At 
least, they could be interpreted that way. He would get depressed and write these long notes to 
me, to other people in his life, and then nothing would happen. Sadly, you get inured to it.” 
 
“Then why would Artie suddenly panic and go over there and where was there and where was the 
cop?” 
 
“Brian, why are you so morbidly curious about this?” 
 
“Am I causing you pain? I don’t mean to be.” 
 
“I’m just curious,” Boyd reached over to push some thick, silky hair from Brian’s forehead. 
“What’s going on in that devious mind?” 
 
“Maybe I’m just feeling weird because of all the mystery surrounding us, I don’t know, but 
something about it sounds odd to me.” 
 
“Explain.” 
 
“Where did Jared do the deed? At his studio?” 
 
“No, at the place where he was living with that cop, I guess. I know the address the paper gave 
was not the address of his studio.” 
 
“And when did Artie suddenly become Jared R Us? Where did he get all the paintings?” 
 
“I assumed he just inherited them after Jared died, I don’t know, Brian. What are you thinking?” 
 
“I’ll bet he hightailed it over to Jared’s studio and took everything in sight before he even called 
the cops. Then he went over and found Jared’s body officially.” 
 
“The strange thing is, Jared had already put that huge cache of work in our ‘safe’ place in the 
crypt. So I’m not sure just how much Artie got at the studio. He got some stuff, that’s for sure, 
but I think Jared took his best work out of the place because he knew what Artie would do.” 
 
“Did he do that kind of thing before?’ 
 
“Not that I know of.” 
 
“So this time he really meant to off himself.” 
 
“Obviously.” 
 
“Maybe not. I was wondering if he did in fact do the deed. What if he were killed and made to 
appear as if it were suicide? But that doesn’t work if he hid his art. Sounds like he was planning to 
die. And that note he wrote you made it sound that way, too.” 
 
“Brian, the only thing different about that note from all the other goodbyes he gave me was the 
bit about the art.” 
 
“But he did hide the art, which makes it seem real.” 
 
“True. Who would kill him, anyway?” 
 
“Jealous cop? Greedy brother?” 
 
“I don’t think so. Jared was very fragile. I think he killed himself, Brian, but the gun did surprise 
me.” 
 
“Did you talk to his brother at the funeral?” 
 
Boyd frowned. “The cunt asked me to sell him the paintings again. Upped his offer. I point blank 
asked him how he planned to come up with that much cash and he said not to worry about that. 
Of course I wouldn’t sell, and that was that. Within a week, Artie was advertising this huge 
retrospective of Jared’s work at his gallery. It was enormously successful. The big bucks were 
now his, despite Jared’s wishes.” 
 
Brian shook his head. “Something about it bugs me.” 
 
“It bugs me too. It was horrible. A horrible waste of a brilliant man, a horrible windfall for an 
asshole.” 
 
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s something else.” 
 
“You’re just seeing ghosts because of all the crap we’re going through.” 
 
“I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll talk to Bo.” 
 
“What does Bo have to do with Jared?” 
 
“Nothing, probably, but Bo understands these feelings, I think. He’s an instinctive kind of guy.” 
 
“Knock yourself out, Brian, but we have enough to worry about without creating a new mystery.” 
 
“Maybe.” 
 
“About that plan for Bonnie’s destruction…” 
 
Brian laughed. “Give me a couple days to bake it.” 
 
“You won’t actually do anything unless we talk thought, right?” 
 
“Of course not, Boyd. She’s your ex. I won’t let you miss a moment of the fun.” 
 
Boyd laughed and snuggled into his arms as he switched off the remote and threw the room into 
darkness.  
 
At breakfast the next morning, Belle complained that her feet hurt and she didn’t want to go to 
school. Boyd smiled and spooned her oatmeal into a bowl. “That’ll teach you to walk all the way 
over here.” 
 
Brian laughed as he popped a bagel into the toaster. “Gee thanks for being so sympathetic, Dad.” 
 
Belle giggled as Boyd glared at his lover. “I don’t need your help.” 
 
“I’m just saying.” 
 
“It’s not because I walked,” Belle defended. “It’s cuz my cleats are too little and they gave me a 
blister.” 
 
She held up a skinny leg to reveal a small blister on her heel. Boyd frowned. “I just bought you 
those damn cleats. No one has feet that grow that fast.” 
 
Belle gave him an exasperated sigh. “Not my soccer cleats, Daddy, my baseball cleats.” 
 
Boyd looked confused. “Since when did you start playing baseball?” 
 
“Since the summer program at school. Either I had to stay inside with the girls and draw pictures 
and boring stuff like that, or I could go outside and play baseball with the boys.” 
 
“How come I’ve never seen you play? I go to all your games.” 
 
“We’ve only had two games, Daddy. One of them was the same day as a soccer game so I 
couldn’t go, and the other one was when I had stripped throat.” 
 
“Strept throat,” he corrected her. “How do you like it? I love the game.” 
 
“I like soccer better.” 
 
“Smart girl,” Brian said with a grin. 
 
Boyd laughed. His daughter was just like Lisette. A tom boy. He wondered if that meant anything 
in terms of her eventual sexual orientation? “Are you any good?” 
 
“I’m better than half the boys even though I just started. I don’t throw the ball so good, but I can 
hit it far.” 
 
“If you just started playing, your cleats must be fairly new. How come they hurt?” 
 
“Because Mama was in a bad mood the day we went shopping for them. They didn’t have the 
right size at the store, these were a half size too little. But Mama didn’t want to go to another 
mall and so she said to just wear thinner socks, that they would last through the summer.” 
 
Boyd shook his head at his wife’s selfishness and Brian sat across the table from Belle with his 
cup of coffee and his bagel. “What else did you get for the game, Belle?” He asked casually. “A 
glove?” 
 
She nodded. “A glove and a couple balls to practice with and a cap and a bat.” 
 
Boyd stopped pouring his own cup of coffee and looked at Brian, who raised a brow as he looked 
back. “Where is that bat now, honey?” 
 
“In Mama’s car in my bag. She keeps it there so it’s not forgot when she takes me to school. 
Why?” 
 
Boyd shook his head, unsure of what to say, and Brian leaned back, letting this information 
process.

Current Mood:  curious


Mar. 29th, 2005 01:18 pm - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 64 
 
“So what do you know about baseball?” Boyd asked Brian after he dropped Belle at school and 
before visiting with her mother. They went to the diner for coffee and beignets. Brian shrugged at 
his question.  
 
“Their uniforms are unflattering, they chew way too much tobacco and they tend to run to fat.” 
 
Boyd laughed and shook his head. “I was talking about the game, Brian, not the sex appeal of the 
players.” 
 
“There’s a difference?” 
 
“Come on…” 
 
“I don’t know, Boyd. I played in Little League when I was a kid. You hit the ball and run. What 
else do I need to know?” 
 
“Bats.” 
 
“What about bats?” 
 
“Not all bats are created equal.” 
 
“Yeah, some are metal and some are wood.” 
 
Boyd nodded. “For starters. Some are ash, some are maple, some are stamped by the leagues, 
some are standard, some are not. Some are expensive, some are cheap.” 
 
“What’s your point?” 
 
“When I looked at the bat in my car, I was so stunned by the thought it could be a murder 
weapon that I didn’t pay much attention to the particulars. It was a Louisville Slugger, my 
favorite bat, but they make a lot of models. The standard bat size for a kid Belle’s age is probably 
twenty-seven to twenty-nine inches with a two and a quarter diameter and weighing minus ten, 
which is how they measure bat weight.” 
 
Brian grinned at him. “When did Babe Ruth re-incarnate in your body? Improvement over the old 
model, I must add.” 
 
“I’m a jock, Brian. Maybe an old, retired jock, but still a jock. I triple lettered in high school, 
basketball, baseball and football and played soccer for fun.” 
 
Brian leered at him. “Do you know how hot I’m getting picturing you in that locker room in some 
abbreviated jock strap, eyeing the other boys?” 
 
“I didn’t eye. I was terrified of those feelings in high school. I deliberately didn’t eye. But the fact 
is, I know what I’m talking about when it comes to baseball. I play fast pitch with the local team. 
My bat is 32 inches long and has a two and a half inch diameter. It’s maple, expensive and I keep 
it in top shape. I think that bat in my car was ash, now that I really ponder it, and it was smaller. 
Bonnie would cheap out when buying equipment for Belle to use in sports. She doesn’t want her 
to be athletic. She tries to discourage it. And I know the baseball coach for the school. If Belle 
shows up with my bat, he’ll never let her swing it. It’s too big and it’s not regulation.” 
 
Brian nodded. “I get it. Someone switched the bat.” 
 
“Maybe. I intend to talk to my lawyer about it, who will talk to Rod.” 
 
“Should we be discussing this?” 
 
“No, but fuck it. This is important.” 
 
“Ok, so you’re saying Belle did it,” Brian said with a smile. “She’s a tough kid, I’ll give her that, 
but what’s her motive?” 
 
“Can you be serious?” 
 
“Sorry. Go on, Perry Mason.” 
 
“I don’t see why Bonnie would go after Greg, doesn’t make sense, but maybe.” 
 
“Bonnie is a psycho, Boyd, but two things. Unless she’s an alien, she doesn’t manufacture spew, 
and she’s about five-two and Greg was our size and lifted weight.” 
 
“I know and I’m not saying she did it, but think about it. He could have blown anyone and been 
murdered later. And if you’re caught off guard with a bat to the brain, size doesn’t matter.” 
 
“Hum,” Brian said with a frown, thinking about the possibility but not quite sold on it, as much as 
he wanted her to be guilty. “What’s her motive?” 
 
“I don’t know, but what we want is reasonable doubt that it could be someone other than you. 
I’m not suggesting I’d implicate the mother of my children, but we can’t ignore the possibility of a 
switch and what that means.” 
 
“Okay. Let’s not ignore it, then. Do what you said. Call your lawyer. But don’t confront her with it, 
Boyd.” 
 
“I’m not that dumb.” 
 
“You’re that caught up in it. And you’re mad at her.” 
 
“I’ve been mad at her for years.” 
 
“I’m just warning you.” 
 
“I hear you, Brian.” 
 
They grew quiet and then looked up as Bo joined them. “Not talking about anything other than 
the weather are you, boys?” 
 
Brian shrugged. “We have other things to talk about, Bo. Which reminds me, Boyd. Now that 
Mumsie and Pater are fed up with you, does that queer it with the Catholics, to coin a phrase?” 
 
“No. The Coulter Foundation that makes all of our charitable contributions, including to the 
church, is still ran by me. I know Dad will take me out of that role, but for now, it’s my baby. 
They’re used to dealing with me when they come soliciting. But we need to strike early before I 
get de-throned.” 
 
Bo looked confused. “Did I miss something?” 
 
“A business deal,” Brian said. “Unrelated to my criminal shit.” 
 
“I see. Don’t go pissing off the Catholics before you go to trial in these parts, Brian. This is rural 
Louisiana, Cajun country. Everyone here is a Catholic, even the non-Catholics, if they want to 
stay in business.” 
 
“I was raised in that bullshit, Bo,” Brian reminded him. “I know the score.” 
 
“Just don’t do anything stupid. It’s Catholics who may be voting on your future.” 
 
“Okay.” Brian frowned at that reminder as Bo ordered breakfast. Boyd’s mobile phone rang. He 
glanced at the caller ID. The school.  
 
“Boyd.” 
 
“Hi, Boyd, it’s Frankie Gillespie.” 
 
“Hi, Frank,” he made a bat swinging gesture as if to say Frank was Belle’s coach and that he 
played fast pitch with him. The gesture drew a wince from Brian. Too much of a reminder of past 
pain. “Whassup?” 
 
“If it stays dry, we’re playing a game tomorrow evening. We need you to be there.” 
 
Boyd smiled. They damned sure did. He was about the only talent on the team. “Fine, Frank. Say, 
how’s Belle doing? I hear she started practicing with the boys.” 
 
“That’s the other reason I’m calling. I told Bonnie, she needs new cleats. These she’s got are too 
small. They impede her game.” 
 
“I’ll take care of it. Is there a practice today?” 
 
“Yeah, weather permitting.” 
 
“I’ll make sure Bonnie drops her bag by, since I took Belle to school today.” 
 
“Good. Sometimes Bonnie’s a bit much for me to deal with, Boyd.” 
 
“I understand.” 
 
“I’ll keep in touch on the game and the sooner you get those cleats the better.” 
 
“She’ll have them this afternoon.” 
 
They hung up and Bo said, “Okay, what’s going on? You two may have a secret way of 
communicating, but I’ve been around long enough to know when something’s being said.” 
 
They hesitated and then Boyd inhaled and began to tell Bo the story of the bats. 
 
 
Brian felt as conspicuous as he did the night he entered the room where Justin’s prom was being 
held, as he walked into the gym hidden in the bowels of the local Catholic church. As Boyd 
promised, anyone could use the gym if they were willing to pay the ten-dollar per diem charge. 
Brian was joined there by two elderly women walking at a snail’s pace on neighboring treadmills 
and one elderly man working the pull down machine at a weight Brian could lift with one finger. 
He sighed. They were not exactly the hard bodies he was used to seeing at the gym, but at least 
they were trying. Before he commandeered the one remaining treadmill, he took out his mobile 
and called Ted.  
 
“Get over here, Theodore. I’m not doing this alone.” 
 
“I don’t feel like working out, Brian.” 
 
“You need it. Come over, I’ll pay your gym fee.” 
 
He knew by Ted’s long sigh that he would obey the command. Brian cranked up the speed on the 
treadmill to fast walk for two minutes, raising the incline, and then he accelerated it to run. He 
put on his ear buds to listen to his Ipod and close out the world around him. At least he was in 
the air conditioning, as pitiful as it was. He knew the oppressive heat outside would kill him, if the 
roaming murderer let him live. As he ran, he became vaguely aware that his two walking 
companions had stopped and were staring at him with open amazement. He glanced at their 
wizened faces and then paused his run, his chest heaving as he pulled out an ear bud and asked, 
“Is something wrong?” 
 
“Who are you, young man?” One of them asked and he wondered if he was about to be ejected 
from this hallowed basement.  
 
“I’m just a visitor.” 
 
“Evaline and me, we forgot men could look like you and move the way you do! You could be in 
movies.” 
 
Evaline giggled like a wrinkled teenager and Brian smiled slightly, strangely flattered “No, I’m just 
a businessman.” 
 
“Single?” 
 
He smiled and took a swig from his Evian bottle. “You ladies looking?” 
 
They giggled again. “Would it do us any good if we were?” Evaline quizzed and he laughed. 
 
“I’m taken. But if I weren’t…” 
 
“I was thinking of my great grand-daughter in Lafayette. She can’t find a good man, and she’s a 
beauty.” 
 
“Sorry.” 
 
“You go on running, we’ll just enjoy the scenery.” 
 
“You two old women should be ashamed, tormenting that young man like that. He don’t want to 
hear that kind of talk from two old grannies,” the man at the pull down machine complained and 
Brian shrugged.  
 
“I don’t mind. It’s nice to know I still have it.” 
 
“Like you ever doubted it,” the one who was not Evaline teased. Brian winked at her and resumed 
his run as they giggled again and continued to watch his body strain. He wasn’t particularly 
worried by it. He was used to being ogled at gyms, but usually by guys who wanted to fuck him. 
He wouldn’t let his mind wander to whether these old girls had similar fantasies. He feared he 
could never get another erection if he did. 
 
Ted wandered in looking limp and sad sack in baggy shorts and a non-form fitting sleeveless 
shirt. He glanced at their gym companions, and then looked askance at Brian. Brian grinned at 
him. “Ten more minutes on the tread and then I’m doing weights and you can have it, Ted.” 
 
“Oh, I’m sticking around for that!” Evaline proclaimed and her friend agreed as their aging male 
friend left in a huff. Obviously he believed he wasn’t getting his proper share of the notice.  
 
“What’s your name, sweetie?” Evaline asked when Brian began doing 21’s with barbells. He told 
her, feeling her gaze fix on his exposed biceps as he flexed, then relaxed. She glanced at her 
friend and said, “Are you that boy they said killed Greg Willis?” 
 
Brian sighed. “I didn’t kill Greg Willis.” 
 
“Too bad. He needed killin’.” 
 
Brian raised a brow at that remark and she shrugged. “He did. He was no good, his papa was no 
good, his papa’s papa was no good. Greg was way overdue for what happened to him, the cheap 
piece of work.” 
 
“Evaline is prejudiced against Greg because of what he did with her grandson,” her friend said 
and Evaline glared at her. 
 
“You don’t need to be telling my business, Evangeline.” 
 
“It ain’t your business, you silly old woman, it’s your grandson’s business and anyway we all 
know about it. It wasn’t a secret.” 
 
“What happened?” Brian asked, watching Ted stop walking to listen.  
 
“That nasty trash broke up my grandson’s happy marriage.” 
 
“You mean his wife found out about your grandson and Greg?” 
 
She looked confused. “You mean my grandson found out about his wife and Greg, don’t you?” 
“Uh,” Brian stumbled over that and the two old women looked at each other as knowledge 
crossed their faces.  
 
“Oh, so you were the ol’ boy who got caught out in the Texaco storeroom with Greg?” 
 
Brian nodded and she sighed. “What a waste of gorgeous manhood you are, sweetie. But surely 
you knew Greg wasn’t only interested in boys. Greg was an equal opportunity scoundrel. He 
spread his time with women, too. I think Evangeline and me may be the only people in town he 
didn’t service at one time or another.” 
 
“He must ‘a been a great piece of ass,” Evangeline said wistfully and Brian suddenly started 
laughing, finding this whole conversation straight out of the alternative universe known as Canard 
Rouge into which he had fallen and from which he couldn’t escape. 

Current Mood:  energetic

Mar. 30th, 2005 01:25 pm - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 65 
 
Brian and Boyd met in Brian’s room for lunch, although no food was contemplated or shared. 
Brian was already naked and in bed when Boyd entered the room. Boyd held his attention as he 
stripped, deliberately taking his time to reveal his body, enjoying the feel of Brian’s intense gaze. 
He saw Brian’s hand move under the cover, down to his dick, stroking it in a smooth pumping 
motion as he watched.  
 
“See something you like?” Boyd teased and Brian threw back the sheets, revealing his erection. 
 
“Yeah. How about you?” 
 
Boyd was wearing only his underwear as he walked over to Brian and replaced his hand on his 
dick with his own. “I definitely like. How does this feel?” 
 
Brian closed his eyes, letting his hand drift over Boyd’s shoulder and arm as he stroked him. 
“Good, but don’t take it too far. I’m in the mood for a good hard fuck.” 
 
“There’s a novel emotion.” 
 
“Complaining?”  
 
Boyd kicked off his underwear and slid in beside Brian, resting his cheek against his chest as he 
listened to his heart pound next to his face. “I love fucking you, Brian.” 
 
“Good, because I feel the same way about fucking you.” 
 
Brian pulled him up to kiss him and their tongues jousted as Brian’s long fingers moved across 
Boyd’s ass. “Ride me,” Brian whispered in his ear. “I want to watch you take my cock.” 
 
Boyd fitted him with a condom and assumed the position by straddling Brian’s hips, balancing 
himself on his knees as he reached behind and guided Brian’s stiff dick to his ass. He winced at 
the initial penetration, but the lube caused Brian to glide and Boyd’s desire relaxed his muscles to 
assist him. He rested one hand on Brian’s pec’s, the other at his hip bone as he raised and 
lowered himself on Brian’s erection. His own cock fit nicely against Brian’s palm as Brian began to 
rub it with increasing friction. Brian’s stare remained fixed on Boyd, watching his muscles strain 
and his expression twist into a grimace of pleasure as his ride increased in tempo.  
 
“You like that?” Boyd said in a raspy half whisper. “You like the feel of my tight ass around your 
hard cock?” 
 
“I like it. Fuck me, Boyd.” 
 
“I am fucking you,” he raised himself on his knees until Brian’s dick was almost free of his ass, 
but not quite, clenching his rectal muscles to hold the head in place as he sat back on it again, 
giving Brian the maximum enclosure. Brian groaned. Despite the slick of the lube, there was 
something so tight, so forbidding and resistant to fucking ass that the thrill was almost 
unbearable. Boyd’s face and chest were flushed with sex now, and he tossed his blond hair back 
as he became lost in the sensation of two bodies acting as one. “Faster,” he instructed Brian’s 
hand on his dick and Brian obeyed his command, pumping with more force and speed. At the 
same time, Boyd bounced harder and faster against Brian’s lap, coaxing it out of him. Brian 
reached one hand back to grasp the headboard and steady himself, trying in vain to prolong the 
pleasure. 
 
No use. 
 
He bucked his hips off the mattress, raising Boyd with them as he shot his load, and then 
collapsed. He waited just a beat before pushing Boyd off of him so he could go down on his 
lover’s pounding dick, stroking it only once or twice in his mouth before Boyd came. Relaxing in 
each other’s arms as the intensity waned, Brian smiled and said, “Liquid protein lunch. Just what 
the doctor ordered.” 
 
“Hungry?” Boyd asked and Brian shrugged. 
 
“Not anymore. You suppose you could survive on a desert island by exchanging spew?” 
 
“I suspect it’s incomplete nutrition. But it makes a nice appetizer course.” 
 
“A little like liquid caviar.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “All we need is toast points, capers and chopped onion.” 
 
“And a little chopped egg white, too.” 
 
“Oh yeah, that’s good. Now I’m hungry. Want to go downstairs and scrounge around in their 
kitchen?” 
 
“Not yet. I just want to lie here until my dick stops twitching.” 
 
“That’s hot,” Boyd let his hand move to Brian’s detumescing cock and Brian groaned.  
 
“You push the button, the game re-starts.” 
 
“I know. Your game is so much fun to play. It’s always ready for the challenge.” 
 
“With you, it is.” 
 
“Why do I suspect that’s a general fact?” 
 
Brian smiled. “Okay, getting it up has never been a problem for me.” 
 
“Which is not a problem for me, either, Brian. I like it when you’re up. Preferably up me.” 
 
“My favorite place to be.” 
 
“Did it go alright at the gym? Anyone give you a hard time?” 
 
“Do you know two old dolls named Evaline and Evangeline?” 
 
“E and E? Oh yeah. Older than mud. I think they were around when Lafayette sold the land to the 
U.S. But they’re sweet old things. They were there? I see them in the gym from time to time. I 
don’t get it. They toddle along on the treadmills at about the pace of a lame snail. What they get 
out of it, I’ll never understand.” 
 
“At least they’re still trying. They thought I was hot.” 
 
Boyd laughed at that. “I doubt if those old girls remember what hot means.” 
 
“I beg your pardon. They not only remember, they think I represent it. I told them I was taken, 
though.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Did you tell them by whom?” 
 
“No, but they knew I was the queer in the Texaco after a little inquiry. Too bad. I might have had 
a hot date with Evaline, or was it Evangeline’s, great granddaughter?” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I got that same offer, so don’t feel too special.” 
 
“Did you take her up on it?” 
 
“What do you think? No.” 
 
“Do you know Evaline’s son and daughter in law?” 
 
“Sure. He runs the hardware store. Nice guy. His wife left about three years ago. She got caught 
in some scandal with Greg Willis. He’s always been trouble.” 
 
“Don’t you think the fact Greg is bi means something, Boyd? You never told me that. Does Bo 
know?” 
 
“I don’t think he’s bi. I think he just took advantage of her. He was a kid, maybe just out of high 
school. His proclivities seem to have firmed up as he got older. As you say, most of us try pussy 
at least once.” 
 
“The old girls made it sound like Greg was spreading it around to women as much as to men.” 
 
“Do you believe that?” 
 
“I don’t know. He seemed to know his way around a dick, that’s for sure.” 
 
“To tell you the truth, Brian, I steered clear of Greg. He was always overly flirtatious with me, and 
he made me uncomfortable. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the gossip that whirled around him 
because I just didn’t care what he did.” 
 
“Couldn’t Evaline’s son be a suspect?” 
 
“I guess so, but he’s remarried and seems very happy with his second wife. I suspect he was 
better off rid of her.” 
 
“He may not agree.” 
 
“I’m all for finding more suspects to create reasonable doubt, Brian, but I don’t think he’s the 
killer.” 
 
Brian’s house phone rang and he freed an arm from under Boyd to answer it with a sigh. It was 
Bo. “Can I come up?” 
 
“Give me five. I’ll come down.” 
 
“Okay.”  
 
“I should go back to work anyway,” Boyd said. “I’ll take a quick shower while you meet with 
whomever.” 
 
“It’s Bo,” Brian slipped into his discarded jeans. “I guess you can’t sit in on that conversation, 
anyway.” 
 
“Right. I’ll see you this evening.” 
 
They kissed and Brian watched Boyd’s naked ass until he disappeared into the bathroom, and 
then reluctantly went downstairs to meet with Bo. Bo sussed out what had been going on upstairs 
with just one glance at Brian’s disheveled appearance.  
 
“Interrupting something?” he teased and Brian smiled at him.  
 
“Would it matter?” 
 
“This is business. You’re young, you can get it up again.” 
 
“Moving on,” Brian prompted, not interested in discussing his sex life with Boyd with anyone, 
even Bo.  
 
“The bat’s the weapon. They’re still running tests, but they’ve confirmed that’s Willis’s blood and 
hair on the shaft. Interesting fact. The bat’s wiped clean of prints on the grip, the whole thing, but 
the killer left the damaging blood and hair and brain matter there to be found. The only print they 
have is a random thumb print just beneath where the bloodstains begin. The killer missed it, and 
it’s in an odd place to have been gripping a bat. They say it’s small, almost like a child’s print.” 
 
“Or a small woman?” 
 
“I take it a very small woman. They think child.” 
 
“Belle,” Brian said with a frown. Bo looked at him and asked. 
 
“Who?” 
 
“It’s Belle’s, Boyd’s daughter. I’ll bet you my left nut.” 
 
“Why do you say that?” 
 
“I’m not suggesting Belle’s the bad seed, I mean come on. She didn’t do it. But I’ll bet it’s her 
bat.” 
 
“Tell me more.”  
 
Brian shared what he learned from Boyd about bats and also what the two old women told him 
about Greg Willis. They grew silent as Boyd entered the room, his hair still damp from his shower. 
He smiled at Bo and leaned over to kiss Brian on the cheek. “Later, Brian.” 
 
Brian reached up and briefly encircled Boyd’s wrist and then watched him go. Bo called him back 
to the business at hand. “You’ve got it bad.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“I hope you boys know what you’re doing.” 
 
“Boyd didn’t do anything but fall for the wrong guy at the wrong time, Bo. None of this is being 
pinned on Boyd.” 
 
“You have to understand the reasonable doubt game, Brian. We don’t have to prove someone 
else did it. That’s up to the state. We just have to show enough doubt that people aren’t sure that 
you did it. That means we can throw all sorts of bodies under the bus without keying on any one 
culprit. The murder weapon was found in his bag in his car. You can bet Rod will use it.” 
 
“And you can bet I’ll tell Rod not to use it. Boyd didn’t do it.” 
 
“Brian, back off and let Rod handle your defense. That’s why you’re paying him the big bucks. 
You can’t let your romance get in the way of a fight for your life.” 
 
“Don’t demean what you can’t understand by dismissing Boyd and me as ‘a romance’. Whatever 
the fuck that is. This has become central to both of us. I’ve created enough havoc in Boyd’s life. I 
won’t let him be drug down in the depths by some half baked attempt to deflect the blame from 
me.” 
 
“I’m going to let you take this up with Rod. I only gather the facts.” 
 
Brian sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I know you’re trying to help me, Bo, it’s 
just…I can’t do that to Boyd.” 
 
“Again, we’ll let Rod handle this.” 
 
“I think you should talk to the man whose wife cheated on him with Greg.” 
 
“I will.” 
 
“Did you ever get to talk to Bonnie?” 
 
“No, but I will.” 
 
“I suspect her.” 
 
“I suspect your feelings for her may be colored by your feelings for her husband.” 
 
“Former husband, Bo. Former.” 
 
“Right,” Bo said, hoping that his client’s deep affection for Boyd Coulter wasn’t going to 
compromise his defense. Bo liked Boyd, and he didn’t strike him as a killer, despite the 
compromising evidence. But he was concentrating on clearing Brian, not Boyd, and he knew Rod 
would be, too. He only hoped Rod would be able to make Brian understand the rules of 
engagement. Brian’s life depended on Rod’s ability to shapeshift the killer from Brian to someone 
else, and frankly who that someone was didn’t really matter.
Current Mood:  curious

Apr. 4th, 2005 04:22 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 66
 
“I hate doing nothing, Theodore,” Brian complained as he and Ted sat on matching chaises in the 
back garden of the B&B, battling yellow fever by sipping from cool tumblers of gin and tonic. Two 
couples from Macon had checked in for the night, and the men from Pittsburgh quickly escaped 
the banal conversation passing between the innkeepers and their new guests about things to do 
in Canard Rouge. The evening fell like a wet towel over them, stifling their breathing and causing 
damp to break out under their clothes and soak through in patches, where the flesh was closest 
to the cloth. Ted began his unending battle of the bugs, batting at the buzzing invaders who 
ignored his sheen of Deet. Brian seemed to have developed an immunity to the monsters, or 
maybe, Ted decided, they simply found Brian’s blood less tasty.  
 
“Brian, you’re defending your life and your honorable name. You’re in the middle of a significant 
love affair. You’re buying a building and now you’re planning how to configure a new business. 
You’ve taken multi-tasking to new heights. What more should you be doing? Balancing the 
national budget?” 
 
Brian smirked at him. “I feel like I waste hours sitting on my ass waiting for Boyd to get off work. 
We’re Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz plotting things just to keep busy while the ‘boys’ are away.” 
 
“You’ve seen that show?” Ted asked, shocked, and Brian glowered at him.  
 
“I don’t have to watch it to be able to make cogent commentary on contemporary American 
culture.” 
 
“I suppose I’m Ethel.” 
 
“Well, of course.” Brian tapped out a cigarette from the package and lit it. “Boyd made contact 
with the Catholics today. He brought up the horror of having an investor who was not only 
charged with murder, but who planned to turn the church into a gay bar. Their initial offer was to 
vitiate the sale.” 
 
“Vitiate?” 
 
“Cancel, whatever. He said no, the buyer would prefer clear title.” 
 
“I can’t believe that he used the fact you’re falsely accused of a crime as a weapon against you, 
Brian.” 
 
“I told him to.” 
 
“That would explain it. What was their response?” 
 
“They’re thinking about it. Boyd thinks they’ll come back and ask for more money than we 
offered, and once they do that, it’s only a matter of bargaining.” 
 
“Is it worth it?” 
 
“It is to me.” 
 
“What’s your plan? You’re moving to New Orleans?” 
 
“Possibly. Why not?” 
 
“Your life is in Pittsburgh, Brian.” 
 
“What life is that? My son, who doesn’t live with me, is in Pittsburgh. I have some friends in 
Pittsburgh. I can stay in touch with both no matter where I’m living. Life’s a journey, Theodore. I 
plan to have several homes before I die.” 
 
“And I suppose this stop on that journey has nothing to do with Boyd Coulter?” 
 
“Sure it does. But it has to do with other things as well, like my business. It’s not just because 
Boyd is close by.” 
 
“Right.” 
 
Brian glanced at Ted’s Doubting Thomas profile and said, “I was hoping you’d stay, too. At least 
for awhile.” 
 
“Stay in New Orleans?” 
 
“Yeah.” 
 
Ted looked stunned. “Why?” 
 
“To help me launch the business. To work with me. Kind of a project manager.” 
 
Flattered, Ted was also shocked by this unexpected turn. “Brian, I…” 
 
“I’d make it worth your while.” 
 
“I have a life in Pittsburgh.” 
 
“You do? What?” 
 
“Well,” Ted stammered. “I have a business.” 
 
“Which is running fine remotely.” 
 
“I have friends.” 
 
“So? Make new ones and stay in touch with the old ones.” 
 
“I hate this heat.” 
 
“You hate the cold in Pittsburgh. Even trade.” 
 
“Why do you want me to stay?” Brian shrugged, but Ted bore in. “Seriously, Brian. Why?” 
 
Brian paused, then smiled slyly at him and covered Ted’s hand with his own. “Ok, Theodore, the 
truth. I’ve always wanted you. Now’s our chance to start a new life in a new place. Together.” 
 
Ted was silent for a single stunned moment, and then he pulled his hand free and glared at his 
friend. “If you can’t give me a serious answer…” 
 
“Ok, ok. It’s like this. I sort of trust you. As much as I would ever trust any money cruncher. I 
think you have your flaws, as do we all, but overall, I can rely on you. I’ll be distracted with the 
trial and God knows what else, and I need someone here to help me get this project off the 
launch pad. I think that someone should be you, Ted. It makes sense.” 
 
Ted shook his head, trying not to smile. “You are really something, Kinney. You spin this web and 
make any request seem reasonable. What do I know about converting a church into a gay club? 
I’m the wrong man for that job.” 
 
“I don’t need you to have a vision, Ted, I have the vision. I’ll have the plan. I just need you to 
execute it on time and within the budget. Those skills are yours.” 
 
“And my accounting business?” 
 
Brian waved that inquiry off as if it were one of the pesky insects plaguing Ted. “Do it in the late 
evenings, early mornings, on coffee break, I don’t give a shit. You’ll make more money and you’ll 
get to boss hot construction workers in hard hats and y-backs around. Tell me that doesn’t 
appeal.” 
 
Ted stared at Brian and then said, “You really are diabolical.” 
 
“I have my moments. I try.” 
 
“You succeed.” 
 
“Just think about it. I don’t need an answer right now.” 
 
They looked up as Jimmy Chang joined them and flung himself down beside Ted’s chair, resting 
his forehead against his thigh with a dramatic moan, as he said, “That fuckin’ bitch Bonnie Coutler 
fired me.” 
 
“Why?” Ted asked, stroking his fingers through Jimmy’s thick black hair. Brian found himself 
surprisingly interested in this conversation. 
 
“Because she get mad over me falling asleep and little missy walked out the door. Bitch told me 
she only gonna be gone one hour and she gone half the night, so yeah, I go to sleep! Bitch works 
me like coolie all day in the shop and then I have to babysit her brats while she runs around? 
Fuck that!” 
 
“What are you going to do, Jimmy?” 
 
“I don’t know, Teddy!” he wailed, raising a plaintive face to his inquisitor. “How Jimmy gonna 
live? I can’t work that old sugar mill, the men who work there make fun ‘a me because I’m a gay 
boy.” 
 
Ted glanced at Brian. “Of course, if I took you up on your offer, I’d need a personal assistant.” 
 
Brian rolled his eyes. “Ever heard the old saying ‘don’t shit where you eat’, Theodore?” 
 
“Ever heard the old saying a Chinese man scorned tells tales out of school?” 
 
“No, since you just this moment made it up.” 
 
“You get my drift, however.” 
 
Brian smiled. “I get your drift. Tell you what, Jimmy. Go refill these glasses, have the nice 
gentlemen pour you one, too, and then come back and we’ll discuss your future. And you can tell 
us every bit of dirt you have on Bonnie Coulter.” 
 
Jimmy grinned at Brian and grabbed his glass along with the one in Ted’s hand, heading for the 
house as he called over his shoulder, “You won’t believe the shit Jimmy Chang has on that bitch! I 
teach her about who to fire!” 
 
“There’s nothing more lethal than an angry queen,” Brian said with a smile and Ted nodded, 
watching Jimmy’s tidy little ass as he retreated. 
 
 
“I don’t have time to talk to you today, Boyd,” Bonnie seemed genuinely frazzled even though it 
was the end of the work day. She was arranging two vases of fresh blooms at one time and didn’t 
seem particularly pleased with either. “I’m short handed and I have some orders that need to go 
out first thing in the morning.” 
 
“Where’s Jimmy?” Boyd refused to be put off. He let her delay him this morning, but he wouldn’t 
give her a pass for the whole day. He was still furious about Belle and he was demanding an 
explanation. 
 
“I fired his lazy ass after what happened with Belle. What do you think? You think I’d keep him 
around?” 
 
“You tell me.” 
 
“I fired him, Boyd.” 
 
“Where were you, anyway, that he had to babysit?” 
 
“I went out. I don’t have to tell you everything I do.” 
 
“I have every right to know that my children are safe.” 
 
“Oh shut up, Boyd! Don’t try to make this like I was a careless mother. I left them in the care of a 
trusted employee. How was I supposed to know he would fall asleep? He’s in your tribe, I guess 
that should have been my clue for not overestimating his responsibility.” 
 
“My tribe?” Boyd repeated. 
 
She glared at him. “Look, he’s babysat for them before without any incident. He was stupid and 
he paid for it. Belle was also stupid and she’ll be punished. She’s fine. Nothing happened. Get 
over it.” 
 
“You get the fuck over it! There’s a killer out there, Bonnie. God knows what could have happened 
to her.” 
 
Bonnie leveled a glare at her ex-husband. “That killer is sleeping in your bed, Boyd. Ironically, 
she walked right into his presence, didn’t she?” 
 
“No, she didn’t because Brian never hurt anyone. You and I both know it.” 
 
“Why would I know that?” 
 
“I don’t know, Bonnie. Maybe you have knowledge of who the real killer is, and maybe you’d do 
anything to shift that blame over to Brian or to me or to someone you wanted revenge against. 
Or maybe just to cover your own ass.” 
 
“Yeah, Boyd, that’s right. I killed Greg after he blew me. The sad thing is, if I had a dick to be 
blown, we may still be together.” 
 
“Not without a complete personality transplant to go along with it.” 
 
“My personality wasn’t a problem for you until you realized you never got over your yen for dick.” 
 
“I think it was more your yen for dick that did us in, than mine, Bonnie.” 
 
“Well I sure as hell wasn’t getting it from you.” 
 
They stared at each other in familiar conflict and finally Boyd sighed and shook his head. “Not 
worth it. It’s time to pick up the kids from school. Are you going?” 
 
“Would you? Take them out for pizza and I’ll come get them later.” 
 
He sighed. He didn’t want to prolong his separation from Brian, but neither did he want to pass up 
a chance to spend time with his children. “I’ll pick them up and I’ll feed them, but then I’m 
dropping them off at your house.” 
 
“Fine.” 
 
“So be there.” 
 
“I’ll be there, Boyd. What’s the matter? Want to be alone with your boyfriend?” 
 
“Yeah,” Boyd paused at the door and said, “I do. By the way, I outed myself to my parents so 
that little weapon of yours is gone.” 
 
She laughed. “I know.” 
 
“How do you know?” 
 
“I have my sources. I heard it went really badly. That Daddy blew a gasket and Mommy froze you 
out.” 
 
“However it went, it’s done. No bomb to be dropped.” 
 
“Why should I drop a bomb when you’re so good at blowing off your own foot?” 
 
“Who told you about it? Rex?” 
 
She just smiled and he shook his head. “If you think they reacted badly to the news that I’m gay, 
how do you think they’d react to the news that you’re fucking Rex? The husband of the one good 
kid they have left?” 
 
“You don’t know anything and no one would believe you anyway.” 
 
“We’ll see about that, Bonnie. Don’t get too comfortable. Not in any way.” 
 
“Yeah, well, don’t send out the wedding invitations for you and what’s his face either, Boyd. It’s 
so hard to set up housekeeping in two locales, especially when one of the wedding party is in the 
slammer.” 
 
He left the shop and called Brian on his mobile to explain the current situation with his kids, and 
the delay that would create. Brian listened and then said, 
 
“I have new dirt on your ex from Jimmy Chang, formerly her indentured servant.” 
 
“Take it with a grain of salt considering how angry he must be right now. But I’m anxious to hear 
it. I’ll come pick you up as soon as I drop the kids off at her place. Don’t go to sleep and miss 
me.” 
 
Brian laughed. “How likely is that? Call me when you’re on your way.” 
 
They hung up and Boyd realized how quickly his dark mood from confronting Bonnie vanished as 
soon as he heard Brian’s voice. The power of love, he thought with a smile. Either that or the 
extreme relief of feeling part of something important with someone who mattered, an emotion he 
never thought he’d feel again. But then, what was the difference? For Boyd, Brian Kinney was the 
power of love.
Current Mood: busy


Apr. 5th, 2005 05:13 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 67
 
Ensconced in Boyd’s bed, sexually sated, Brian inhaled a header of fragrant ganja and stared 
down at their entwined bare feet. “My feet are prettier than yours,” he observed and Boyd 
chuckled as he took the chub from between Brian’s lips and drew on it.  
 
“Your everything is prettier than mine.” 
 
Brian glanced at his lover’s profile. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” 
 
“Yes, Brian, I do. You’re beautiful.” 
 
“So are you.” 
 
“In that Jack Armstrong, All American Boy way, I’m alright. But I’m not beautiful.” 
 
Brian ran his knuckle up the slope of Boyd’s cheekbone. “Yes, you are. But your feet aren’t as 
pretty as mine. That’s all I’m saying.” 
 
“Do you love me despite that failing?” 
 
“I’m trying, but it’s a challenge.” 
 
Boyd raised himself on his elbow to peer down at Brian as he tossed the stub of a roach into the 
crystal tray beside their bed. “What did Jimmy say about Bonnie?” 
 
“As you said, take it with a drop of soy given how angry the little Jap is…” 
 
“He’s Chinese, you racist pig,” Boyd teased. 
 
“I meant Jewish American Prince, since he acts that way.” 
 
“Racist and anti-Semitic,” Boyd prodded him as Brian laughed. 
 
“Anti-gay, too. Anyway, he said Bonnie is pretty much a slut puppy. Always on the look out for 
something hot in trousers, but then, aren’t we all? How can we judge her for that?” 
 
“Oh, are we now?” Boyd challenged. Brian winced. 
 
“Metaphorically speaking, of course.” 
 
“Go on.” 
 
“Is this hurting you?” 
 
“Because I love her so much? Get real. Continue.” 
 
“He says Rex calls over there a lot, and he’s convinced something is going on with them, but then 
again, he thinks Rex gives Jimmy the eye, too, so who knows?” 
 
“Has Rex come on to Jimmy?” 
 
“No. I asked that and he said no, but that he’s ‘flirty’.” 
 
“I think the word is ‘smarmy’. That’s just how Rex is.” 
 
“Anyway, he thinks she does have a love interest who has lately become more of a steady thing, 
but he doesn’t know who it is. Could be Rex, could be someone else. She gets calls from 
Lafayette and New Orleans, but she’s planned functions in those cities, so he can’t be sure if it’s 
business or personal. She disappears from time to time, like the night Belle walked out, and 
Jimmy thinks it’s to see this back door man of hers. Obviously the man is married, or hiding 
something. Jimmy believes it’s all about the money with Bonnie. She’s looking to trade up at all 
times. The sex is just a means to an end for her.” 
 
“Having been the means to her ends, I can verify that fact. Anything about Greg or Greg and 
Bonnie?” 
 
“Jimmy said he knew Greg, he blew Greg, but they had a wary regard for each other, both of 
them being young predatory queers, in my opinion. He said he thought Greg was too much in it 
for the business. But I have to tell you, Greg never asked me for a dime when he came on to me. 
It was all about the sex with him. Jimmy said Greg liked to say he was straight for pay, a twist on 
those gay porn stars who claim to be gay for pay. That shit cracked me up. From what we hear, 
Greg didn’t mind being paid for doing what comes natural, either. I asked Jimmy if he thought 
Bonnie paid for it with Greg and he said Bonnie was on the other side of the ledger when peddling 
ass. And she hated queers, was always saying rude things about us, even though she knew 
Jimmy was in the club.” 
 
“None of this is really new.” 
 
“He also said that lately she’s been talking to someone frequently about Jared’s paintings. How 
much she can get for them, where to sell them, how to sell them, which ones are worth the most. 
He doesn’t know who she talks to, and said she clams up about it whenever he came into the 
room.” 
 
Boyd glanced at the painting above his bed and sighed. “Greedy bitch. After all the evil things 
she’s said about Jared, I’d rather burn his work than let her profit off of a single painting.” 
 
“Anyway, I hired him.” 
 
“You hired who?” 
 
“Jimmy.” 
 
“To do what?” 
 
“To be Theodore’s playmate, uh, assistant. I want Ted to manage my project.” 
 
“Please tell me they aren’t becoming emotionally involved.” 
 
“No, I think it’s safe to say other parts of their anatomies dominate that relationship. But if it 
keeps Ted happy, what the fuck? Jimmy works cheap.” 
 
Boyd smiled and leaned over Brian, smoothing his hair back from his face with both hands as he 
whispered, “I’m wanting you again.” 
 
“Speaking of other parts of the anatomy…” 
 
“Complaining?” 
 
Brian let his hands wander over Boyd’s firm rump as he replied, “Yeah. I hate it when you want to 
fuck.” 
 
“Then I must make your life an unrelenting misery.” 
 
“You broke the code.” 
 
They kissed but before it began, the phone rang. Boyd met his eyes and Brian sighed, nodding for 
him to get it. “Boyd, this is Artie Hall.” 
 
Boyd grimaced. “I’m busy, Artie.” 
 
“This won’t take long. You have something that belongs to me.” 
 
“What would that be?” 
 
“My brother’s art work.” 
 
“Haven’t we had this discussion? Nothing’s changed, Artie. His paintings aren’t for sale.” 
 
“Not the ones he gave you when you were together, I can’t make much of a claim on those, but 
the ones you rescued from the grave, that’s a whole other matter.” 
 
Boyd sat up, his tense body language alerting Brian, who spread a hand on his back. “What are 
you talking about?” 
 
“Those paintings of his that you pulled out of your family crypt. You have no right to that work. 
You weren’t with him when you took possession of them or even when he died. They’re part of his 
estate.” 
 
“I have no idea what you mean.” 
 
“Is that how it is? We’re gonna dance? You better move your feet fast, Boyd, old boy, because I’ll 
dance you backwards into that swamp. We can do this the easy, no press, no nasty revelations 
way, or we can hire a band and make a regular wing dang doodle out of it.” 
 
“If you think I will voluntarily hand over to you any of your brother’s art work, you don’t know me 
at all, Artie. I owe him that much. You’ve already made more off of him than you ever had the 
right to expect. Why can’t you let him rest in peace and find a living artist to promote? Isn’t that 
what galleries are supposed to do? Promote artists?” 
 
Brian squeezed his shoulder and Boyd covered his hand with his own. Brian could feel the tension 
in his muscles and he sighed as he leaned over to kiss the bumps at the base of his neck where 
the skin was thin over his spine. Boyd shuddered, and leaned into his caress. “Galleries are 
businesses, Boyd. We’re there to make money, just like the corner 7-11. There’s no magic to 
that. And it’s hit or miss with new artists while Jared is a sure thing.” 
 
“You didn’t think so when he needed you.” 
 
“I’ll get a court order requiring you to turn that art over to his estate. Count on it. Is that how it’s 
going to be?” 
 
“That’s the only way you’ll ever get a sketch from me.” 
 
“So be it.” 
 
He hung up and Brian pulled him into his arms, comforting him in his strong embrace. “Breathe,” 
he counseled him and Boyd inhaled deeply, his forehead resting against Brian’s chest as he said, 
 
“How did he know?” 
 
“Know what?” 
 
“About those paintings? No one knew, Brian. Just me and Ted and you. The bank where I put 
them in the vault, of course. Who told Artie?” 
 
Brian frowned. “Are you accusing me of something?” 
 
“Of course not, Brian.” 
 
He sighed, relieved. Lately he was feeling the first to blame for almost every crime, no matter 
how small or how large. “A mole at the bank?” 
 
“I never took them out of the bag and how would they know the grave connection? Artie 
mentioned it.” 
 
Brian felt the uneasy truth bore into him. “Ted.” 
 
“Who else could it be?” 
 
“He doesn’t know Artie.” 
 
“It had to be Ted, Brian. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you. Who else?” 
 
Brian frowned and stood up, reaching for his jeans. “Come on.” 
 
“Where are we going?” 
 
“Where else? If we’re going to blame Theodore, we at least owe him the courtesy of offering us 
an explanation. And then we can kill him.” 
 
“There you go resorting to murder again,” Boyd tried to keep it light as he began to dress, but the 
humor had bled out of the situation and all that remained was a festering wound. 
 
 
Jimmy Chang lived in rooms above the garage of a house not far from the B&B. When there was 
an unexpected knock at his door, he pulled on a pair of cut offs and stumbled through his Ikea 
furnishings to open it and then stare with the classic deer in the headlights expression at the two 
tall men waiting on the other side. 
 
“Where’s Ted?” Brian asked and Jimmy said, 
 
“Uh.” 
 
Brian pushed past him, followed by Boyd, and Ted sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to his tits in 
a gesture of surprise and modesty. It was all one big room except for a separate bath and 
kitchenette and Brian said to Jimmy, “Wait outside.” 
 
“You can’t kick him out of his own home!” Ted protested, but Jimmy saw the look on Brian’s face 
and gladly went outside to sit on the wooden steps leading up to his flat. “What the fuck?” Ted 
demanded as Brian lit a cigarette and Boyd sat beside him on the edge of the bed. 
 
“You told Artie Hall about the paintings in the crypt,” Brian’s sentence was declarative, not a 
question. 
 
“I don’t even know Artie Hall. Who is Artie Hall again?” 
 
“Who did you tell, Theodore?” 
 
“No one!” Ted’s large and expressive eyes gave something else away, a tinge of uncertainty. 
“Well, I guess that’s not entirely true. Uh, I may have said something to Jimmy when we… I don’t 
know. He has that print,” Ted pointed out a print on the wall of one of Jared’s paintings. It was 
nicely framed, and Boyd wondered if it had been legally reproduced. Another of Artie’s ventures? 
Making Jared’s work available to the masses? 
 
Brian got up, walked to the door, motioned for Jimmy to follow him back inside. Jimmy looked 
from Ted to Brian to Boyd and said, “What’d we do bad?” 
 
“Did you tell Artie Hall about the paintings Ted and Boyd retrieved from the crypt?” 
 
“Who Artie Hall?” 
 
“Bonnie,” Boyd intervened. “Did you tell Bonnie?” 
 
Jimmy looked pained. “She like that art of his, Mr. Boyd. I hear her talk about it. So I maybe 
mention to her that you got those other paintings out of that grave and maybe you give her one 
of those.” 
 
“Jimmy!” Ted said with a groan. “I told you that in confidence.” 
 
Jimmy shrugged. “How that hurt anyone? It’s just pictures!” 
 
“Once again your big fat mouth got you in trouble, Theodore. What is it about keeping a secret 
that is so fucking impossible for you? I’m re-thinking my offer of before and that goes for you too, 
Jimmy.” 
 
“No, Mr. Brian!” he wailed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was big fucking deal!” 
 
“Come on, Brian,” Boyd took his arm. “Let’s save this for later when we’re more rational.” 
 
“I’m sorry, Boyd!” Ted tried but Boyd waved him off and left with Brian, the two of them 
retreating to the Mustang in tense silence. Before they could get in, an SUV pulled up and the 
electronic window was lowered. Homer Dhue said,  
 
“I’ve been looking for you. Your Daddy wants you up to the plantation, son. Mr. Kinney, too.” 
 
“Homer, you can tell him you found me, but if he wants to talk to me, he can come to my house.” 
 
“Boyd, don’t pick that fight. Just come along, now. See what the man has to say,” Homer 
counseled and Brian sighed. He trusted Homer, even if he didn’t give a flip about Boyd’s parents 
and their wishes. 
 
“Let’s go. I’ve never seen the house in Gone With the Wind before.” 
 
Boyd tried not to smile. “It’s not exactly Tara. Trust me, Brian, this can’t be good.” 
 
“Madam Dhue have any of that shoo fly pie up there?” Brian asked Homer who grinned. 
 
“She can probably find you a piece of that pie, Mr. Kinney.” 
 
“Then let’s go.” 
 
Boyd nodded and Homer waved goodbye as he drove off, his mission accomplished. 
Current Mood:  annoyed


Apr. 6th, 2005 06:27 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 68 
 
“Pull over. Stop!” Brian demanded as they drove up the tree-shadowed private lane leading to the 
plantation house. Boyd pulled over to the side and braked. He shot his lover a worried look. 
 
“Are you okay?” 
 
Brian reached out and placed a hand on the back of Boyd’s neck, bringing him over to kiss him. 
He slipped his tongue between his lips and tasted Boyd’s familiar flavor, his eyes closing as the 
heat flickered and flamed. Boyd buried his fingers in Brian’s thick hair, stroking his tongue with 
his own, then thrusting deeper. Brian broke it off and smiled at him in the pale glow from the 
dashboard lights. He reached over to cut the engine. He immediately realized his mistake as the 
air conditioning ceased holding the heat and humidity at bay, so he turned it over again, and then 
he unbuttoned Boyd’s shirt. 
 
“What are you doing?” Boyd asked and Brian smiled.  
 
“This,” he kissed his sternum, the firm wall of his pecs, his taut nipple, and flicked his tongue 
down the dividing line between the six-pack of his abdominal muscles. Boyd moaned, cranking 
the seat back to give him more room. Brian popped open his waistband button and slowly 
lowered his fly, using his nose to nudge the flaps apart and reveal Boyd’s stiffening penis.  
 
“This is crazy,” Boyd sort of protested, but his hand on the back of Brian’s head, stroking his hair 
and gently holding him there, told the real story. Brian licked it, from head to stem to pubes and 
back again, up and then down, and then up, and down again, before he enclosed it in his mouth 
and used his lips and tongue to cocoon the hard flesh. Boyd closed his eyes and tensed, his butt 
clenching and lifting slightly, grazing the roof of Brian’s mouth with the head of his cock as he felt 
the passion build with excruciating intensity.  
 
If there was one thing Brian Kinney could do well, it was suck cock. He began to work his routine, 
fast glide, and then slow, heavy suction and pressure, and then a butterfly light flicking on the 
glans, and as Boyd neared ejaculation, fast and hard sucking, taking it deep until he tasted the 
final result of his effort in a hot blast against the back wall of his throat. He swallowed and held it 
in his mouth until the twitching passed, then leaned back and smiled at Boyd’s flushed 
expression. “Now that’s what I call a blow job.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “That’s what I call heaven.” He glanced at the telltale bulge in Brian’s jeans and 
said, “Return the favor?” 
 
Brian leaned back against the opposite door, one foot on the floor, the other flat on the seat, his 
leg bent at the knee as he reached down and opened the buttons of his fly, withdrawing his hard 
cock. He stroked the long, thick shaft as he said, “I wouldn’t run away from it.” 
 
“You couldn’t run with that rudder to throw off your balance,” Boyd teased as he anchored his 
hands on Brian’s hip and thigh and took his dick into his mouth.  
 
“Go slow,” Brian said, running a hand down Boyd’s strong back as he leaned his head against the 
glass and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. “I want to feel this forever.” 
 
But forever was an impossible goal as Brian’s body demanded that climax and he got it quicker 
than he wanted it but with the crashing satisfaction he always felt with Boyd. They took a 
moment to share a smoke and let the sex flush and ennui pass before they resumed their 
journey. 
 
“Why do you think Big Daddy wants to see us?” Brian asked and Boyd shrugged. 
 
“Whatever it is, it’s not good.” 
 
“I expect him to tell me if I really cared about you, I’d take a hike because I’m ruining your life.” 
 
“Brian, don’t go there. If he says anything like that, we’re walking. I’m not a twenty year old 
virgin. I don’t need to be protected from myself. I make my own decisions. I don’t accept your 
bullshit about saving me from myself, so I sure as hell won’t accept his.” 
 
Brian smiled and reached over to pick some imaginary lint off Boyd’s sleeve, just wanting a tactile 
moment with the man he loved. “Even if he’s right?” 
 
“He wouldn’t be right. I’ve never been happier. Never. I’ll risk anything and everything to be with 
you. You’re it for me.” 
 
Brian stared at him, then pressed his hand to Boyd’s cheek and said, “You pathetic schmuck. You 
could do so much better.” 
 
“No, Brian. I couldn’t.” 
 
They kissed and Brian sighed. “With all the shit storming around me, all the isolation, the risk to 
my freedom, the fear, I’ve never been happier either, Boyd. Or more content. How weird is that?” 
 
“It’s weird, but nice.” 
 
“Very nice.” 
 
Silence. 
 
“Are you ready?” Boyd asked and Brian nodded, casually resting his hand on Boyd’s thigh as they 
drove, prepared to face anything. They entered through the kitchen and Brian looked around the 
room that was easily the size of his entire loft in Pittsburgh. A huge fireplace with a cooking hook 
and grill from the old days dominated one wall. Gleaming copper cookware hung from hooks 
suspended from an oval ceiling rack and glass-doored cabinetry held glassware and china. There 
was a butcher block between two complete stovetops and a long Parson’s table and twelve 
straight-backed chairs before the bay windows.  
 
“Christ, do they run a five-star restaurant out of the old homestead?” Brian quipped as Boyd 
smiled at his impression. 
 
“Everything in this house is over-sized except the family affection. That’s practically non-
existent.”  
 
Their footsteps echoed on brick floors as they crossed through a butler pantry to the dining room. 
French doors to the grounds revealed the strategically placed lights that illuminated the fountains 
and decorative gardens, and the Georgian silver serving pieces on the sideboard gleamed under 
the dimmed lights of the Baccarat chandelier. “This reminds me of the dining room in the Kinney 
manse back home,” Brian quipped. “Except for the size and the view and the crystal and the 
silver and the art on the walls and the Chippendale furniture.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Shut up.” 
 
“God, I’ve finally married money.” 
 
“This will never be mine, so you may want to walk now. I think Big Daddy is about to disinherit 
his fag son.” 
 
“Yeah? It’s been fun, but…” Brian turned as if to go, and Boyd laughed as he grabbed his arm and 
propelled him forward. They found his father in his private study. It was a deliberately 
intimidating room. The domed ceiling loomed over walls of leather bound books and a collection 
of antique globes that were set into niches for display. The marble surround of the fireplace was 
cool since it was too hot for even a decorative fire. Fine leather furnishings and a silk rug from 
France were dominated by an oversized Empire desk, trimmed in gilt and lit with a delicate leaded 
glass lamp by Louis Comfort Tiffany. Boyd’s porcine father was seated behind it and he stood as 
they came in.  
 
Brian saw a few genetic clues to Boyd buried in the older man’s flabby face and body, but he 
figured Boyd’s beauty must have come from his mother. Boyd introduced them and they shook 
hands with restrained civility and then everyone sat down, the two younger men separated from 
the older by the barrier of his desk. Brian broke that power play by reaching over and picking up 
a silver-framed photograph from among the pictures on the desk, thus breaching the sanctity of 
the battlement. He smiled at a shot of a high school aged Boyd in a football uniform, posed on 
one knee, helmet off and braced on the other thigh, typical formal football player pose. “Look at 
you,” he said and Boyd rolled his eyes and took it from him, putting it back where he got it. 
 
“Told you I was a jock.” 
 
“Your hair was so white-blond.” 
 
“Age darkened it a little.” 
 
“We aren’t here to discuss Boyd’s high school days,” his father interrupted their exchange, 
annoyed by the easy intimacy between them. 
 
“Why exactly are we here, Dad?” Boyd insisted. 
 
His father removed a red file from a drawer and slapped it down on the desk with an ominous 
thud. “This is Brian Kinney.” 
 
Brian smiled slightly. “It is? I fold up so nicely.” 
 
He was ignored as Boyd’s father pushed the file towards his son. “Look at it. Know what you’re 
getting into.” 
 
“Am I hearing that you had Brian investigated?” 
 
“That’s right, I did.” 
 
Brian laughed. “If that folder contains all the dirt they dug up on me, you got rooked. It should be 
a lot thicker.” 
 
“You think this is funny, Mr. Kinney?” 
 
“No, I think it’s pathetic. But then again, I am curious. How bad a person am I?” 
 
“Look at it, Boyd.” 
 
“Of course I won’t look at it, Dad. How dare you vette my boyfriend. I know what I need to know 
about Brian. This is insulting.” 
 
“You know what he wants you to know. Now look at the truth. Are you afraid to look at the 
truth?” 
 
Brian frowned and grabbed the folder, opening it to the first neatly typed page. “I’m not. Let’s 
see, they got my birthday right. Wow, it’s coming up. Another year older, and I wasn’t already 
depressed enough. Yep, those would be my parents, and my sister and yes, my Dad was a drunk, 
that much is accurate. My sister is divorced, and she’s a bitch too, they left that out. Hey, look at 
this, it goes all the way back to my checkered career in the Catholic school system before I got 
booted to public schools. You did dig deep, didn’t you? Suspended for fighting, true, kicked off the 
soccer team for unsportsmanlike conduct, true, but I was re-instated because they needed me. 
Where does the good stuff come in? The real dirt? I can fill in the gaps, if you’d like. I’m sure they 
didn’t hit everything.” 
 
Boyd gently removed it from his hands and ripped it in half, returning the two sections to his 
father. “I don’t care what you turned up on Brian. I love him, Dad. Warts and all.” 
 
Brian smiled at him as Boyd’s father bristled. “He molested his own nephew.” 
 
“Hold on there, pilgrim,” Brian intervened. “I won’t let that one slide by. He accused me of 
something I didn’t do to get back at me for disciplining him for stealing money from me. There 
was never a formal charge and he later admitted he lied.” 
 
“Seems you’re always being accused of things you never did, Mr. Kinney. Why is that, do you 
suppose?” 
 
“Just lucky, I guess.” 
 
“Enough, Dad. If this is why we’re here, we can leave now. I won’t listen to it. Nice try.” 
 
“He was a promiscuous faggot in Pittsburgh, Boyd. He’d go to sex orgies and have sex in public, 
at clubs and bath houses. He was known for it. He had sex with every gay man in that city. More 
than once, probably. He was a predator. If he doesn’t have AIDS, it’s a damned miracle.” 
 
“He doesn’t have AIDS and…fuck this. Come on, Brian. Let’s go.” 
 
“Sit down,” Brian said and Boyd did so, staring at his lover with trepidation. Brian reached over 
and held his hand as he turned his attention to Boyd’s father. “I don’t blame you for being 
worried, Mr. Coulter. It’s bad enough that you have to deal with the fact Boyd’s gay. My own 
father wished me dead when I came out to him. But dealing with his boyfriend being a man with 
an admittedly shady reputation and currently charged with murder, well, that can’t be a parent’s 
dream situation. I’m a parent, too. I understand. But the fact is, I didn’t murder Greg Willis and 
Boyd knows that. I expect to be cleared of that charge. It’s also a fact I was a promiscuous, 
predatory faggot for most of my life. I admit that. I told Boyd that. It cost me a lot. Including the 
first real relationship I ever had. But I think it freed me to be the person I am now, and to be able 
to appropriately value the feelings I have for your son. I hope your investigation also showed you 
that I was an excellent student and that I was a very successful, driven businessman who made 
some real money off a business I built on my own. No one is all black or all white. I have some 
redeeming features. I love my son. I try to be a supportive friend. I have brilliant business 
instincts. And I love Boyd with all my soul. I don’t expect you to welcome me into your family, 
and I don’t need that from you. I only need Boyd to welcome me into his life. But if you let the 
fact he’s queer or that he chose someone to love who doesn’t meet your criteria separate you 
from your boy, you’re a bigger fucking fool than I already think you are right now.” 
 
“No man calls me names in my own home.” 
 
“Too late. I’ve offered more than once to walk out on Boyd for his own good, and he won’t let me. 
If I can’t convince him that’s the best thing, you sure as hell can’t. So you may as well make 
some peace with it or you’re going to create a hole in your life that you’ll never be able to fill.” 
 
Boyd squeezed Brian’s hand as his father glared. “What if the DA had this information on you, Mr. 
Kinney? What if Bonnie had it to assist in her fight against your rights to your children, Boyd?” 
 
“If you try to assist Bonnie against me, I’ll make sure you never see my kids again. Because you 
don’t know all the shit I know about Bonnie, Dad. I will win this custody dispute, if there is one. 
And then you’re shit out of luck. As for the DA, nothing in that folder shows a propensity for 
violence on Brian’s part, that much I know to be true or you would’ve opened with that threat. 
The fact that he chased dick and dick chased him proves nothing. He’s my partner. You hurt him, 
you hurt me. And I will fight you, old man, to the last dime. I will make it almost impossible to 
run your business by voting my block against every move you make. I will dismantle that 
business, if necessary. Because my grandparents, and Lisette, gave me the votes I need to make 
you bleed. You know it and I know it. I don’t need you. I don’t need your fucking money, any 
inheritance I may be in line for is just gravy. But you need me. And you’d better find a way to 
deal with me on a respectful, even if distant, basis, or the blood on the water will be yours, not 
mine. Let’s go, Brian.” 
 
“Are you threatening your own father, Boyd? Is that what it has come down to?” 
 
“Let’s just say I’m returning the threat. How’s that? Think it over, Dad. You already lost one 
daughter to your pig-headed prejudices. You ready to take out another child? And two 
grandchildren? For what? Your twisted sense of propriety? I suppose LuAnn’s choice in mates is 
your ideal. The lovely and talented Rex. If you want to investigate someone, turn your guns on 
Rex Berenson. He’s the true threat in your chicken coop.” 
 
Boyd stood, and pulled on Brian’s hand for him to follow. Brian got up and smiled at Boyd’s 
father.  
 
“Your son is just magnificent, isn’t he? You really did a good job with this one. I want to thank 
you for that. He’s perfect.” 
 
Boyd chuckled and shook his head as his father glowered at them and said nothing, following 
their retreat with a poisonous glare. 
Current Mood:  angry


Apr. 7th, 2005 05:19 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 69
 
“You were so good,” Boyd was still gushing as they returned to the mill house. “The look on his 
face when you shot him that last line, damn, I wish I had a photo of that!” 
 
“Boyd,” Brian stopped him by placing both hands on his shoulders. “Concentrate. This wasn’t a 
victory. If it was, it was a Pyrrhic victory. Your father hates me and is rejecting you because of 
me and will make things miserable for you. I didn’t do you any good at all. I made things worse.” 
 
Boyd went over to the sound system, found a particular CD, put it in the slot and pushed play. “At 
last,” Etta’s strong voice filled the space. “My love has come along…” 
 
Boyd held out a hand to Brian, who shook his head, but Boyd persisted. He wiggled his fingers 
and shrugged towards the center of the floor. Brian relented and went into his arms. In a tight 
embrace, their foreheads touching, they began to sway to the sultry rhythm. “My lonely days are 
over,” she serenaded them. “And life is like a song!” 
 
Brian sighed, his eyes closing as he breathed in Boyd’s proximity, absorbed his essence. “You 
smile, you smile,” Boyd said along with the singer. “And then the spell was cast…” 
 
Brian kissed him and they were barely moving at all as Etta finished the thought. “And here we 
are in heaven, for you are mine, at last!”  
 
“If I have this fucking song stuck in my head again…” Brian whispered in Boyd’s ear, and Boyd 
responded, 
 
“…I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known.” 
 
Brian met his eyes and kissed the bridge of his nose before saying, “We’ve turned into lesbians.” 
 
“Then I love being a dyke.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Me too.” 
 
The song was set to repeat and as it began again, Brian led him over to the sofa. He pulled him 
onto his lap, holding him there as he kissed the back of his neck. His mobile rang, and he 
grimaced as he fished it out and reluctantly answered it. “Brian Kinney.” 
 
“Brian, it’s Bo.” 
 
Brian sighed, glanced at Boyd and said, “Hi, Bo.” 
 
Boyd went over to turn off the music. He then went to the refrigerator, popped the top off two 
beers and brought one over to Brian. There went the romance.  
 
“The bat was short. It belonged to a child, that’s confirmed.” 
 
“Then Boyd’s in the clear, right?” 
 
“He has a kid who plays ball, so I wouldn’t say he’s clear, but I wouldn’t say he isn’t, either. The 
fact remains, according to Boyd, someone switched the bat in his car. We need to find out if his 
child is showing up with a full size bat or whatever at practice. Be nice to know where his bat 
disappeared to, as well, but we probably never will. You might warn him that they’re going to ask 
to print his child to see if they can identify that fingerprint. No sense in shocking him with that.” 
 
“That won’t be a popular decision.” 
 
“It’s going to happen.” 
 
“Okay. What now?” 
 
“I’m tracking a lead. I may be on to something, but it’s too soon to tell. Lots of crap going on in 
this little town, lots of crap.” 
 
“I’ve noticed.” 
 
“Okay, Brian. Watch your back. Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. I’ll catch you up on a few things.” 
 
“Thanks, Bo.” 
 
He ended the call and caught Boyd up on what Bo said. Boyd reacted with a scowl to the news 
about Belle. “I guess I suspected that would happen, but I don’t want my daughter traumatized 
by going into the station with that dumb ass Fergus and being printed like a criminal. They better 
come up with a better way to do it.” 
 
Brian stroked between his shoulder blades. “I understand, Boyd, but when I was a kid, I would 
have thought it was the coolest thing ever to be printed at a police station.” 
 
Boyd smiled at him. “Because, according to my father, you were a juvenile delinquent.” 
 
“And proud of it. I’m sorry I got you in this mess.” 
 
“If someone used Belle’s bat to kill a guy, they’re the one who got me into it, not you. I want to 
tell Belle myself, I think I can make it an adventure for her.” 
 
“Tell her about the bat?” 
 
“God no, about the fingerprints.” 
 
“Bo wonders what bat she’s taking to practice now and where your bat is.” 
 
“I wonder that too.” 
 
“I’ll ask you point blank. Is Bonnie capable of murder?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “She’s a calculating, cold blooded bitch with a bad temper, but I don’t see Bonnie 
swinging a bat and killing a guy. I don’t see Bonnie giving a shit about Greg Willis, either. It just 
doesn’t add up. And I especially don’t see Bonnie leaving a load in his belly,” Boyd smiled. “The 
two have to be linked. He was killed before the spew had time to process through his system. 
Logically the other donor was involved. She isn’t equipped to leave that track.” 
 
“I still can’t put this all together. Greg was a conniving little hustler. He was being paid off by 
someone and he was hustling sex, maybe to both genders. His father hated him, the wife of his 
old boss hated him, what other enemies did he make?” 
 
“I’ll bet you wish you never stopped for gas in Canard Rouge.” 
 
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have met you. So you’re wrong about that.” 
 
Boyd smiled and tapped his beer bottle to Brian’s. “Love you too.” 
 
“Do you wish I never came to Canard Rouge? It’s certainly fucked up your orderly life.” 
 
“I wish I went to Pittsburgh and met you there and we fell madly in love under circumstances 
with no shadow. Greg would still be murdered, you didn’t do it so your not coming here wouldn’t 
change that fact. But it would make our lives together easier, so that would be nice. But why 
waste time wishing for shit that won’t happen? We met the way we met. It was karma. Whatever 
the crappy circumstances, it was worth it to me.” 
 
Brian kissed him. “Any movement from the Catholics?” 
 
“Oh yeah. That. They countered for about seven-hundred more than we’re willing to pay. I came 
back with a low ball offer. I suspect we’ll meet in the middle. It may cost you about fifty grand 
more than I estimated, but that’s still good.” 
 
“That is good. Thanks.” 
 
Boyd grinned at him. “I’d bill you for it but then we get into those murky ethical waters. I want to 
reel it in before my Dad pulls me off the foundation.” 
 
“Will he?” 
 
“I suspect so.” 
 
“Boyd, I think I could seduce Rex Berenson.” 
 
Boyd looked shocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
 
“If you want to out him or deflect your father’s anger to him or something, I think I have a shot. 
He looked at me in that way when I saw him at the cabin. I’m not usually wrong about that look.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “He’s been looking at me that way for years, Brian. I know Rex either plays both 
sides of the street or wants to. But no, I don’t want to seduce my sister’s husband, nor do I want 
to use my boyfriend as a tool to out him. But thanks anyway.” 
 
Brian shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer.” 
 
“Do you want to seduce him?” 
 
“Don’t turn it into that. Absolutely not.” 
 
“Bigger question. Do you miss being with other men? I realize the choices here are slim and 
none, but not true of New Orleans. Are you planning to trick when you go there?” 
 
Brian stared at him. “How can you ask me that?” 
 
“Easy. I just did.” 
 
“I won’t tell you I’ll never trick, never want to trick, never end up tricking, because I don’t know. 
I’ve lived my life tricking. But I will tell you that right now, at this moment in time, you’re the 
only man I want to be with. How’s that?” 
 
Boyd touched his cheek and said, “I ask one thing, Brian. If you feel you want to trick, don’t do it 
behind my back. Talk to me about it first. I can’t tell you I’ll be fine with it, my guess is it will 
devastate me and I’m not sure it wouldn’t dismantle what we have, but I do know the deception 
would finish it for me.” 
 
“I understand deception, believe me, Boyd. I was deceived by Justin. It hurt. I know the 
difference and I promise you that if I suddenly have the desire to trick, I won’t go behind your 
back.” 
 
“When you say deceived, weren’t you two in an open arrangement?” 
 
“We had an understanding. Rules. He broke them and he lied to me about it. I know how it feels.” 
 
“Do you miss him?” Boyd’s expression touched something deep within Brian and he smiled and 
reached over to smooth his lover’s fair hair.  
 
“Sure. I miss him. He’s a good guy, smart, talented, funny. But I don’t dream about Justin calling 
me and saying he broke up with Ethan anymore. I don’t pine for his body. I don’t wait for a call 
from him. I don’t fantasize whether we may have a future together sometime. I wish him well. I 
wish him happiness. But I’m in love with you.” 
 
Boyd smiled and wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck. “Good answer,” he whispered. “I’m in 
love with you, too.” 
 
“I know. You poor bastard.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
A noise from below interrupted their embrace. They both tensed, listened. Nothing. And then 
again, a crashing sound. Boyd frowned and got up. “Wait,” Brian warned. “Just call the police.” 
 
“Who? Fergus? Sheriff Carter doesn’t do night duty. We enforce frontier law around here, in case 
you haven’t noticed. Stay put,” he picked up a poker from the fireplace tools and Brian sighed 
and got up to follow him.  
 
Boyd called out, “Who’s there?” He switched on the main breaker, throwing the workroom 
downstairs into sharp relief. Standing behind him on the stairs, Brian frowned as they focused on 
Ted who was sprawled on the dusty floor, having tripped over some debris as he picked his way 
through the dark towards the loft stairs. “That’ll teach me to lock the downstairs door,” Boyd said, 
lowering the poker to his side as Brian laughed. 
 
“What the fuck, Theodore?” 
 
“This place is a minefield of potential accidents!” Ted complained, picking himself up to brush off 
his dusty clothes. “I hope I didn’t break my skin, I’d probably get tetanus from all this rusty 
machinery.” 
 
“The sad thing is, Theodore would get tetanus,” Brian observed as Boyd laughed.  
 
“Come upstairs, Ted. It’s hot down here.” 
 
The three of them returned to the loft and Boyd locked the door behind them and returned his 
weapon to the fireplace surround. He gave Ted a beer, watching him examine his exposed skin 
for any sign of a wound. No blood was evident. “Why are you here?” Brian demanded and Ted 
sighed. 
 
“I want to explain. I don’t want Jimmy to be blamed.” 
 
“I blame you, Ted. Mission accomplished.” 
 
“Let him talk, Brian,” Boyd soothed, taking his lover’s hand as he sat beside him on the sofa. 
Brian frowned but grew silent.  
 
“I guess I didn’t see the harm in mentioning the art. He had that picture on the wall. I said I 
thought the artist was really talented. He agreed. We talked about the fact he was in your life, 
Boyd. That he was your lover. Yes, I know, it’s gossipy, but he already knew that. From Bonnie, I 
guess. We speculated about why you left Jared to be with her. And then he mentioned the art in 
this loft and how good it is, and I just told the story.” 
 
“You may recall when we retrieved the art from the crypt, I asked you to keep it confidential,” 
Boyd reminded him. 
 
“Did you spell it for him?” Brian prompted. “With Ted, you have to spell and define that term 
because it has no counterpart in his internal lexicon.” 
 
“Brian, please…” Ted pleaded. “It’s not as if I was giving out details of your financial holdings or 
anything. We were just talking about paintings. I had no idea Jimmy would mention it to Bonnie 
or what the repercussions may be. I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t think.” 
 
“You never do. That’s the problem, Ted,” Brian accused and Ted sighed. 
 
“I uprooted myself from my home and my friends and my business to come down to this God 
forsaken hole in the middle of Homophobiaville to hold your hand and to keep you going, Brian. I 
run you around like a chauffeur, I entertain you when you’re bored, I’m your leg man when you 
can’t travel, I keep the gang off your back. I’ve even helped your defense team on the financial 
aspects of the case. You could at least show a little gratitude for the good I’ve done instead of 
just harping on the mistakes I’ve made. Because I don’t have to be here. I can go home 
tomorrow. Maybe I should.” 
 
Boyd looked at Brian, then sighed. “You make a point, Ted.” 
 
“So go home,” Brian interrupted. “Go. Fuck you. Go back to your pathetic little life. I don’t need 
you. I’m going to take a piss.” He left the room and Boyd turned to Ted when they were alone. 
 
“Which is Brian’s way of saying ‘please don’t go, I need you’, right?” 
 
Ted sighed. “You’re learning the lingo. I don’t know, Boyd. Brian’s so difficult. I don’t know how I 
ended up being his link to the world. He doesn’t even like me.” 
 
“You’re wrong about that. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t like you. But he has to be able to trust 
you, Ted. You keep fucking up on that front. You really need to get a grip.” 
 
“I know. You’re right. It’s just so fucking boring here. Finding things to talk about is not all that 
easy.” 
 
Brian returned, glared at Ted. “You still here?” 
 
“Brian, back off,” Ted replied. “I apologized. It won’t happen again.” 
 
“You keep telling me that.” 
 
“I mean it.” 
 
“Why should I buy it?” 
 
“Because you’re my friend, Brian. Friends forgive friends their mistakes.” 
 
Brian narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re on my payroll, Theodore. That’s not just a friend. You 
owe me a higher duty of care for that.” 
 
“Understood.” 
 
Ted’s mobile rang and he glanced at the caller ID and sighed. “Pittsburgh.” 
 
Brian nodded for him to answer it and Ted did so. When he heard the voice on the other end, he 
looked uncomfortable, drifting his eyes from Brian to Boyd and back again. “Uh, hi, Justin. What’s 
up?” 
 
Brian groaned and leaned his head back against the couch, the perfect ending to a perfect night. 

Current Mood:  stressed

Apr. 8th, 2005 04:52 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 70
 
Ted looked uncomfortable under Brian’s direct scrutiny and Boyd’s more passive interest. “I’m not 
alone, Justin. Can I call you back? Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact, he is. But he’s sort of busy.” 
 
Brian scowled at him as Ted shrugged. “We’re actually at Boyd’s place so…” he sighed. “I’ll ask 
him.” He looked up at Brian. “He wants to say hello to you. I think he may be drinking.” 
 
“You mean drunk?” 
 
Ted nodded. Brian shook his head. “That’s not like Justin.” 
 
“What should I tell him?” 
 
Brian glanced at Boyd, who was deliberately busy at the CD rack, his back to his guests. Brian 
took the phone from Ted and said, “Hello, Sunshine.” As soon as he used that old pet name that 
was more Debbie’s gift than his own, he winced, knowing how it must sound to Boyd. But old 
habits died hard. 
 
“Interrupting something?” Justin asked, the precise perfection in how he spoke the words giving 
away his inebriation more than any slurring might do.  
 
“It’s alright.” 
 
“I had dinner with Mikey and Ben tonight.” 
 
“Sounds like you guys broke open a case.” 
 
“That came later. Ethan’s on the road. Empty house. I guess I started drowning my bad mood 
and kept on going.” 
 
“You’ll pay for it tomorrow.” 
 
He giggled. “I know, but I feel pretty good now. So Mikey tells me you’re madly in love.” 
 
“I told you that myself, Justin. Remember?” 
 
“You should hear Mikey tell it. He says you’ve lost your mind.” 
 
“I suppose being in love is a mild form of insanity.” 
 
“He says Boyd isn’t all that and a bag of Fritos.” 
 
“That’s his opinion. He’s wrong, but fine.” 
 
“He says he’s sort of an older, less pretty version of me.” 
 
“Same gender, similar coloring, but the similarities end there. And he’s beautiful.” 
 
Boyd looked over his shoulder, smiled, and Brian gave him a reassuring wink. “Why are you being 
so mean, Brian?” 
 
“How am I being mean?” 
 
“It’s mean that you’re rubbing him in my face.” 
 
“You asked to talk to me, not the other way round. I think I should give the phone back to Ted. 
We can talk when you’re sober.” 
 
“You never gave me the chance you’re giving him. You never opened the door. You kept pushing 
me away. It isn’t fair.” 
 
“You’re probably right, but what’s done is done, Justin. You moved on and so have I.” 
 
“I’m wondering about things, Brian.” 
 
“What things?” 
 
“Us, the way it ended, whether I gave us enough of a chance.” 
 
“You think about that when you’re not drinking, Justin. You’ll come to the same conclusion based 
on the facts you were operating under at the time.” 
 
“I need to see you. We need to talk.” 
 
“No, we don’t. And I can’t leave here, anyway.” 
 
“I can travel.” 
 
“I don’t know if I can be more emphatic than I’m going to be when I say do not come down here, 
Justin. Don’t do it. I don’t have time for it and I can’t help but think a visit from my ex isn’t going 
to go down well with my boyfriend.” 
 
Boyd sat beside him, his face impassive as Justin said, “What? We can’t even be friends?” 
 
“Maybe, I don’t know. But not now.” 
 
“I’m worried about you, Brian.” 
 
“Don’t be.” 
 
“How can I not be?” 
 
“Try,” he moved his free hand to cover Boyd’s. “I have all the support I need. I’m giving the 
phone back to Ted. You need to go to bed and sleep it off.” 
 
“But…” 
 
“Goodbye, Justin.” He handed the mobile to Ted and Ted quickly disengaged from the call and 
then looked at Brian with a sheepish expression. 
 
“Sorry about that. I guess he was feeling a little nostalgic while in his cups.” 
 
“It’s not like Justin to drink too much. He’s very controlled. Maybe Mikey needs to keep his 
fucking opinions to himself. Now, if you don’t mind, Theodore, we want to go to bed.” 
 
“There’s a light switch by the front door downstairs,” Boyd said. “If you’ll switch the lights off as 
you go, that would be great.” 
 
He left them alone and Brian reached for Boyd, kissing him gently. He felt his resistance, mild 
that it was, but it was there, imparting a tentative quality to the caress. He leaned back and said, 
“Mad?” 
 
“No.” 
 
“Jealous?” 
 
“A little, yes.” 
 
“Don’t be. He’s obviously dealing with some issues, but they have nothing to do with us.” 
 
“Is he coming down here?” 
 
“You heard me tell him not to, and when he’s sober, he’ll think better of it, anyway. His partner 
hates me, he’s not going to stand by and let Justin come to Louisiana to see me, even if I am 
partnered up.” 
 
“So Michael told him what? That I’m not worthy?” 
 
Brian groaned. “Who cares what Michael said? He can be a total idiot. Let’s go to bed.” 
 
Boyd nodded, turning off lights as they went. In the bed, when Brian reached for him, he 
snuggled into his embrace and said, “Okay, I admit it. He makes me insecure. He’s young, he’s 
beautiful and he broke your heart. He scares me.” 
 
“Don’t be scared of Justin. He’s also in the past. You’re the present, the future. I’m with the man 
I want to be with, Boyd. We’re dykes, remember?” 
 
Boyd laughed and let his hand wander down Brian’s strong torso, through the thick thatch of his 
pubes, to cushion his penis. “They’re making these strap-on’s so lifelike.” 
 
Brian smiled as he felt his cock begin to lengthen. “Amazing, modern science. Wait until you see 
the little trick it can do at the end. You’d think it was real semen.” 
 
“Should I take a birth control pill to be safe?” 
 
“What? You don’t want to have my children?” 
 
Boyd smiled and kissed him before he said, “I want to have your body, Brian. Raw. I want to 
bareback with you. I want us to be tested, just to put your demons to rest, and then I want all of 
you.” 
 
Brian exhaled slowly. “I haven’t bare backed in years. And the last time I did it, I was just too 
tweaked to think.” 
 
“You never bare-backed with Justin?” 
 
“No, never. He wanted to, but no. What about Jared?” 
 
“Jared tricked.” 
 
“Good point.” 
 
“Will you test?” 
 
Brian sighed. “I don’t mind testing. I just…bare backing makes me uneasy, Boyd. I never want to 
be responsible for hurting you.” 
 
“You won’t hurt me. Not if you’re negative and faithful.” 
 
“Let me think about it.” 
 
Boyd kissed him and kept manipulating him long after he needed no help to reach maximum 
erection. He was just enjoying the simple pleasure of touching his lover.  
 
They were both sound asleep, hours later, when the persistent intrusion of Brian’s mobile phone 
finally drew Boyd to his feet. Brian slept through it. Every time the call rolled over to voice mail, 
the caller hung up and dialed again. Cursing, Boyd fished it out of Brian’s discarded jeans and 
pushed the backlit button to complete the call. “It’s four in the fucking morning!” 
 
He expected to hear Justin’s voice, and he was ready for him. “Brian?” A woman, tearful. “Brian, 
it’s Claire.” Boyd recalled that was his sister’s name. “Mother’s had a stroke. It’s serious. She’s in 
critical condition. You have to come home.” 
 
“Hold on, hold on,” he roused Brian after much effort and as his lover squinted and blinked, Boyd 
explained what had transpired. While Brian worked to appear stoic, Boyd saw the flicker of pain 
glaze his eyes. He took the phone. 
 
“Claire, how bad?” he asked, combing his fingers through his hair as Boyd turned on the light 
beside the bed and lit a cigarette for him. Brian gratefully took it and inhaled deeply.  
 
“Very bad, Brian. They don’t know if she’ll make it through the day.” 
 
“The problem is, I’m under court order not to leave the area. I’m on bail.” 
 
“I think Rod can get you a humanitarian dispensation, Brian. We’ll need a statement from her 
doctor.” Boyd intervened. 
 
“Claire, can you get her doctor to write something out explaining how critical she is and fax it 
to…” 
 
Boyd repeated his office fax number and Brian gave it to Claire who wrote it down. “Brian, please 
come home. I can’t do this alone.” 
 
“I’ll try. I’ll call you.” He hung up and shook his head. “Fucking beautiful. It’s not as if I didn’t split 
the sheets with my mother awhile ago when she found out I was queer, but I feel like I need to 
be there. I don’t know why. I can’t stand that bitch sister of mine, either.” 
 
“Of course you have to be there. I’m going to call Lisette, who can get Rod started on it first thing 
in the morning and you call the airlines to see what’s available. I want to go with you, Brian. I 
want to be there for you.” 
 
“You don’t have to do that,” Brian said, but his expression broadcasted his gratitude.  
 
“Yes, I really do. So make it for two. Let’s get started.” 
 
“Boyd?” 
 
“Yeah?” 
 
“Thanks.” 
 
Boyd smiled and reached out to smooth Brian’s bed hair, as he said, “You poor guy. What next? A 
plague of locusts?” 
 
“Welcome to my world.” 
 
Boyd kissed his forehead and then picked up the phone to wake his sister. 

Current Mood:  anxious


Apr. 9th, 2005 06:37 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 71 
 
Brian took the window on the first row of the jet, wanting to be shut off from the world, with the 
skin of the fuselage on one side, Boyd on the other. He slumped low in the taupe leather 
ergonomic first class seat, propping his feet up on the carpeted wall in front of him. He chewed on 
the cuticle of his thumbnail in a gesture Boyd had learned was a signal of extreme tension. Boyd 
rested a soothing hand on Brian’s arm that rested between them, and let him have his reverie, 
uninterrupted. How would he be feeling right now if it were his mother at death’s door? They, too, 
were distant and estranged, more so, recently. She, too, had been a cold and remote presence in 
his life, incapable of nurturing. His mother also found her son’s homosexuality to be an 
abomination. 
 
But Boyd knew he would be devastated when she died, and that realization was just sad. 
 
The passengers in steerage were boarding now, filing past the first class cabin, jostling Boyd with 
their oversized carry-on. One heavyset man with a wife who was even wider, her hips spanning 
the aisle completely, glared at Boyd’s hand on Brian’s arm and huffed the word, “Fag,” as he 
ambled by. Boyd couldn’t find the energy to be insulted. He didn’t care what that man or his wife 
thought. He wouldn’t trade lives with them for anything. Brian didn’t even seem to hear. When 
they were underway, the pressure equalized as the plane reached cruising altitude and a pretty 
flight attendant offered drinks.  
 
“I’ll have a Jim Beam over ice,” Brian requested and Boyd didn’t mention the early hour as he 
asked for a Virgin Mary. He let his hand stroke down Brian’s arm and co-mingled his lover’s 
fingers with his own. Brian automatically wrapped his hand around Boyd’s, and finally cast a 
glance in his direction. “Sorry to be so distracted.” 
 
Boyd brought their clasped hands up to his lips, kissed Brian’s knuckles, then returned them to 
the armrest. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m not here for you to entertain. I’m here to support 
you.” 
 
Brian sighed and took in Boyd’s face, his chest tightening with what he had begun to recognize as 
a physical manifestation of his emotional feelings for this man. Before, he measured his reaction 
to someone by the hardness registering in his dick. The harder it got, the faster it stiffened, the 
more he wanted them, thus, the more he liked them. With Boyd, the dick monitor was an 
unreliable guide, because no matter how often they had sex, Brian always wanted more and 
more. The unique sensation he felt with Boyd was this thing in his chest and the base of his 
throat, where his muscles seemed to contract around his heart and made breathing momentarily 
difficult, but then resolved into a tingling cascade that drifted down his nervous system with a 
soothing wash of pleasure.  
 
This was love. 
 
Love had a physical component that went beyond sex. Love felt good even when he felt bad. He 
liked being in love. He felt safe with Boyd. He felt loved back. For Brian, feeling loved back was 
the most novel emotion of all. 
 
“Let me apologize in advance for all the shit you’ll be stepping in when we arrive. My blithering 
sister, who pretty much hates me, my evil nephews, my so-called friends, who really don’t know 
me anymore, my foster mother, Debbie, who will probably think I’m cheating on Justin even 
though he left me two years ago, Justin and his recent weirdness, Melanie, Lindsay’s partner, who 
despises me, and of course my old reputation as a lounge lizard and backroom bandit.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Except for the sad circumstances, I’d be looking forward to seeing you on your 
home turf, Brian. Seeing the places you’ve talked about. The diner, Babylon, your loft. Will we see 
your loft?” 
 
“I leased it, but the tenant bought a place and moved out two weeks ago, so it’s back on the 
market. I figure we’ll stay there. Beats a hotel. It’s up for lease again, so the maid service keeps 
it clean. It will be really weird to sleep in that loft after so long away. It will be really weird to set 
foot in Pittsburgh. It means a lot that you’re with me, Boyd. If I had to go back there by myself, 
well, it would be miserable. With you, it’s almost bearable.” 
 
Their drinks were delivered along with some warm nuts in white china bowls, and Boyd said, “Will 
we have a car?” 
 
“I’m renting one. It’s reserved at the airport.” 
 
“Tell me about your mom, Brian.” 
 
Boyd saw Brian’s expression reflect pain, and then caution. “When I was a little boy, I was close 
to her. I guess I turned to her for shelter from Jack. And she was pretty good to me back then. 
She favored me over Claire. I was a cute kid. She liked to dress me up and have people tell her 
what a pretty little boy she had. Jack would gripe at her and tell her she was turning me into a 
sissy. But I wasn’t a sissy, Boyd. I was all boy. I played sports with some skill, rode bikes, did 
stupid little boy pranks, played with firecrackers, smoked cigarettes behind the garage, looked at 
nudie magazines with other little boys and made the appropriate gagging sounds, only I meant 
them. Puberty started the big divide with Joanie. I got tall, got handsome, got lots of girls calling 
me. Jack seemed to want to live vicariously through me, encouraging the whole teenage stud 
thing, but my mother was appalled by how aggressive the girls were. As for me, I couldn’t care 
less about the girls. I already knew, or thought I knew. I played the game, a little, dated, some, 
pawed a few of them, but there was no question that it was dick that did it for me and no 
question that I had to hide it from my parents.” 
 
“Is this when you met Michael?” 
 
“We were in junior high. It’s when the Jesuits kicked me out and I had to go to public school.” 
 
“But you were never lovers? Not even kid stuff?” 
 
“Mikey had a crush on me. We almost did it a couple times, but no, it didn’t work. I lived in 
separate peace from Joanie until one day she was confronted unexpectedly with evidence of my 
queerness and I admitted it and that was pretty much that.” 
 
“What did she do?” 
 
“Told me I was going to hell and walked out on me.” 
 
Boyd squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.” 
 
“It hurt. But what really hurt was when my evil nephew falsely accused me of molesting him and 
without even calling to ask me about it, my sister had me arrested and my mother supported her. 
They just presumed I did it. Because all faggots are pedophiles, I guess. When he admitted it was 
a lie, thanks to some groundwork Justin did, they didn’t even apologize, although given the way I 
ranted at them and told them to fuck off, I can see why. That was really the last contact I had 
with either of them, until now. Not sure why I’m here. Not as if she wants to see me, nor do I 
care about seeing her.” 
 
“Brian, she’s still your mother, and she may be dying and you have to be there at the end. For 
yourself, if not for her. For the past, if not the present.” 
 
Brian grimaced and turned his face towards the window, staring out at the clouds and seeing 
nothing but infinite space. 
 
They dropped Ted off at his condo in Pittsburgh, and Brian shook his head as they traversed the 
familiar streets, heading downtown. “It’s hotter than you expected, isn’t it?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Clammier, maybe. Not as hot as home, but hot enough.” 
 
“We get the worst of all seasonal blights here. Plenty of ice and snow in winter, and the humidity 
off the river and the heat in summer. Fall and spring are the only bearable seasons. Christ, I 
forgot how butt-ugly Pittsburgh is.” 
 
Boyd smiled at him. “It’s really not, Brian. It’s just a big, industrial, northern, urban landscape. It 
has some pretty features. The river, some parks, some of the buildings are quite nice.” 
 
Brian laughed and shook his head. “Mary Sunshine.” 
 
“Why do you call him ‘Sunshine’?” Boyd asked. 
 
Brian exited the highway, heading for Tremont. “Debbie, Michael’s mom and my foster mother, 
nicknamed him that. It stuck. Not sure why, something to do with his bright smile, I think. I’m 
going to drop you off at the loft and then go over to the hospital. No sense exposing you to my 
crazy family before I see how things are over there.” 
 
“Whatever works for you. Looking after me is not a worry I want you to have, Brian.” 
 
Brian smiled and took advantage of a red light to kiss him. When he pulled up to the loft building, 
he sighed. “It looks smaller than I remembered.” 
 
“It’s a great old building.” 
 
They took their luggage up in the ancient, slow-moving freight elevator, each passing floor 
flooding Brian with memories, unbidden. He opened the grate at his floor and unlocked the heavy 
door, sliding the metal aside and waving for Boyd to enter. The loft was just as he left it, 
sparkling clean, sterile, tasteful, and lifeless. It required Brian and the force of his personality to 
warm the cool blues and inky blacks and barren whites. Brian’s overt sensuality added the 
warmth to counteract the polished chrome and sleek hardwoods. He looked around as if he had 
just walked into a dream and shook his head. 
 
“This place needs updating.” 
 
“It’s very slick, very urban.” Boyd said, focusing on the painting of the naked man. “I like that.” 
 
“Yeah, that’s really the only decent art in the whole place. I asked the leasing service that I use 
to stock the kitchen for us, so we should be in good shape. As you can see, that’s the bedroom, 
bathroom is beyond it and that’s pretty much the whole place in one big room.” 
 
Boyd went over to the tall windows, looking out at the city and Brian watched him, finding it eerie 
and yet strangely comforting for his lover to occupy this space with him. If he had to walk into 
this loft alone after being gone for years, he would have been in agony. Now he just felt out of 
place and yet strangely at home wherever Boyd was. He walked over and wrapped his arms 
around him from behind, burying his nose in the hair on the back of Boyd’s head and inhaling his 
essence. “I love you.” 
 
Boyd smiled and leaned into him, covering Brian’s hands at his waist with his own. “I love you, 
too.” 
 
“We could…” Brian pushed his pelvis forward slightly and Boyd turned in his arms to look at him. 
 
“Brian, you need to go. I’ll be here when you get back. We’ll have plenty of time for that.” 
 
“But…” 
 
Boyd pressed a fingertip to Brian’s lips to silence him. “I know it’s difficult, but you have to go. 
You have to face it. If you want me to go with you, I’m happy to do so.” 
 
Brian sighed and released him. He was right, of course. “No, I should go alone. You have my 
mobile, if you need me. Make yourself at home. I’ll call you later and check in.” 
 
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I brought my laptop and work and I can catch up on a few things. I may 
take a nap.” 
 
Brian looked around and then at Boyd. “I had a lot of fun in this loft, but I also went through a 
shit load of pain before I finally left. Maybe you can purge it for me. Maybe you can make being 
here tolerable, again.” 
 
Boyd walked over to him and kissed him, pulling him into a tight embrace. When he ended the 
kiss, he whispered, “I’ll make you never want to leave.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Doesn’t that work against you? Not to mention making the DA a little testy?” 
 
“Figure of speech you unromantic bastard. Now go.” 
 
“I’m going, I’m going,” Brian kissed him again, and then left him there, alone, in his former 
domain. Boyd wandered into the kitchen, admiring the fine appliances that he suspected Brian 
never christened other than the microwave and the dishwasher. The cooktop and double ovens 
were probably unused, unless by a tenant. He took a beer from the refrigerator and popped it 
open, smiling at the Phillipe Starke counter appliances and the jars of balsamic vinegar and oil. 
He went into the bedroom, staring at the wide expanse of the platform bed that was framed with 
a milky rectangular lighting fixture hung at the head of the bed, no doubt to imbue the scene with 
a sexy glow. 
 
What a player, Boyd thought with a grin. Armed with his looks, his charisma and this sexy 
retreat, no wonder Brian was the stud of gay Pittsburgh. His personal photos and touches had 
been packed away, making the room resemble an expensive suite in a chic, contemporary Soho 
boutique hotel. There was no tub in the bathroom, only a large, glass-walled shower, and Boyd 
knew he would miss having a bathtub if he had lived here. He liked to soak in a soothing tub of 
water, especially with Brian wrapped around him. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He stared 
at his features, with a critical eye. What would everyone think of Brian’s choice in lovers? Was he 
handsome enough? Was he too old? Was he worthy? Would they wonder if Brian lost his mind?  
 
“Yoo hoo! Door was unlocked! Incoming queen with gift basket!” A chirpy voice called from the 
main room and Boyd walked out to greet a tall, flamboyant man in cut off shorts, a rainbow 
striped tank top and hot pink Converse high tops. He was carrying a large basket of cellophane 
wrapped goodies and a bouquet of daisies. He stared at Boyd and then offered him a wide, gap-
toothed grin. “You must be the boyfriend! Oh my, my, Brian did well, now didn’t he? And a fellow 
southern boy, I can’t tell you how much that pleases me!” He sat the basket on the counter and 
shook Boyd’s hand before putting the daisies in a vase filled with water. “I’m Emmett Honeycutt, 
one of Brian’s old friends.” 
 
“Boyd Coulter.” 
 
Again, Emmett’s gaze traveled the length of Boyd and back again. “You’re delicious. And where is 
the tall one?” 
 
“On his way to the hospital.” 
 
“Damn, I was hoping to catch him, I thought he might want to take these flowers to his mama.” 
 
“I think she’s in intensive care and can’t have flowers, Emmett.” 
 
“Well that sucks,” he flopped down on the couch and patted a space near him. Instead, Boyd sat 
on one of the Barcelona chairs. “Tell me how you met and how you snared him and what’s going 
on with that murder thing. As if Brian would ever murder anyone. Couldn’t be bothered.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “I can’t discuss the case, but of course he never murdered anyone. If you don’t 
mind, Emmett, I’d rather let Brian tell the story about us, because I’m not sure how much he 
likes to share about his private life.” 
 
Emmett blinked. “You’re good. You’re very good. Yes, you may stand a chance of holding up to 
him. I, on the other hand, am an open book. And a historian of all things gay in Pittsburgh. So 
you must be curious about Brian’s checkered past. Ask me anything.” 
 
“You know, I’m really not. He’s told me what I think I need to know, and that’s enough for me. If 
he wants to tell me more, that’s his choice. But I’m not comfortable gossiping about Brian, 
especially when he’s not here.” 
 
Emmett laughed. “How I have missed that southern way of smacking someone sideways with a 
velvet glove and a big ol’ friendly smile. Up here, they just hit you between the eyes with a gruff 
‘shut the fuck up’, but we southerners know how to put someone in their place while all the time 
sounding so damned friendly.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “I’m sorry, Emmett. I didn’t mean to seem rude, but that’s how I feel.” 
 
“You aren’t rude, darlin’, you’re impeccable. Okay, come see what Emmett brought you. I cater, 
so I just happen to be an incredible cook. I know Brian doesn’t like a lot of fat and sugar, so I 
tried to be sensible, for the most part. A selection of cheeses, some water crackers, fresh fruit 
and a poppyseed dip for it, a good bottle of wine, some hand-dipped truffles rolled in cocoa, even 
Brian has to have a little chocolate now and then, some pate, a selection of smoked oysters in my 
own tomato brine sauce, and some breadsticks with parmesan and a touch of Tabasco. I just 
thought with his mama so sick, it would cheer the place up.” 
 
“Very, very nice of you, Emmett. I know Brian will appreciate it so much.” 
 
Emmett zeroed in on Boyd and asked, “Are you in love with him? Really in love? Because Teddy 
says Brian is smitten. If that’s true, I would hate to see him have his heart broken again, because 
I know he has one, despite what people say.” 
 
“Brian has more heart than any person I’ve ever known and I will never break it, Emmett. He’s 
my world.” 
 
Emmett pulled Boyd into a strong embrace and said, “Honey, let’s be friends. You’re going to 
need friends. You’re in for a bumpy ride.” 
 
Boyd wiggled free and opened the package of crackers and the container of cheese, anxious to 
shift the subject away from his relationship with Brian, which he considered sacrosanct and not up 
for discussion. 

Current Mood:  anxious


Apr. 10th, 2005 07:40 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 72
 
Brian hated hospitals. Since he spent countless hours lingering in the hallway outside Justin’s 
room when he was bashed, his hatred of hospitals deepened. He didn’t feel any better about it 
when it was his mother in ICU. His sister greeted him with a weepy, awkward hug that caused 
him to visibly withdraw. The last thing he needed was a false show of affection from her. He 
would be polite under these extreme circumstances, but he couldn’t progress to pretending a 
relationship that didn’t exist. He found his mother’s doctor to get a direct report on her condition, 
not trusting Claire to faithfully parrot what she knew. When her emotions took over, she was 
virtually useless. 
 
The report wasn’t good. The next twenty-four hours would probably determine her ability to 
survive, and if she passed that threshold, only then could they begin to measure the extent of the 
damage she suffered from the stroke. Brian knew if it were him, he’d rather be dead than 
incapacitated. He hoped it didn’t devolve into a battle over whether they should pull the plug 
because he and Claire would never agree on what they should do. He was allowed to visit her, but 
was warned she wouldn’t know he was there. He steeled his nerves and went into the little cubicle 
of a room that faced a central control station monitored by the medical staff.  
 
His first thought was how old and fragile she looked. He hadn’t been gone so long that she could 
have aged this much, but the stroke had pulled her face into a droopy mask and the unforgiving 
lighting bleached the life out of her skin. Staring down at her, Brian wasn’t sure what he felt. 
Anger, unresolved resentments, pain, betrayal, regret, failure, and yes, an ancient affection. He 
felt strangled as emotion closed his throat and brought tears to his eyes. He bit into the soft flesh 
of his inner cheek to restrain that reaction, refusing to give in to sentiment. He forced his 
attention to the monitor, watching the erratic blips of her heartbeat, distracting himself from his 
feelings.  
 
When he felt he was in control, he allowed himself to touch her thin arm, her flesh feeling dry and 
cool to him. “I’m sorry, old woman,” he whispered. “For never being the son you wanted me to 
be. And I’m sorry you were never the mother I needed you to be. What a waste.” He squeezed 
her immobile hand and walked out. 
 
When Claire came up to him on the other side of the door, he told her he was going downstairs 
for a smoke, and left the floor. Outside the hospital, sitting on a bench, he lit a cigarette and 
called a number on his mobile. Boyd answered immediately. 
 
“Can you grab a cab and come to Pittsburgh City Hospital? Go to the main entrance. I’ll be there.” 
 
“On my way,” Boyd heard it in Brian’s voice and didn’t waste any time with words. He asked if 
Emmett could drop him off and Emmett quickly agreed. When they arrived, Boyd thanked him 
and said, “Please don’t get out, Emmett. I know you want to be supportive to Brian, but I don’t 
think he wants to see anyone right now.” 
 
“Except you?” Emmett inquired and Boyd nodded. 
 
“Except me.” 
 
Emmett smiled and nodded. “I get it. Tell him we care.” 
 
“I will. Thanks again.” 
 
He sprinted towards the door and Emmett watched as Brian rose from the stone bench and 
opened his arms to Boyd who grabbed him close and held him in a tight, protective embrace. 
Brian’s forehead dropped to Boyd’s shoulder and Emmett felt his eyes tear up as he witnessed 
this silent but powerful attestation of Brian Kinney in love and in need.  
 
In the hospital Starbucks, the lovers sipped hot, sweet chai and Brian shook his head at his own 
weakness. “I don’t know what happened.” 
 
Boyd slipped his hand over Brian’s. “You’re human, Brian. Your mother is gravely ill. You reacted 
emotionally. Why is that so incredible to you?” 
 
“Because I can’t stand her.” 
 
“She’s still your mother and you’re still that little boy who loved her deep inside somewhere. It’s 
complicated. I know.” 
 
“I didn’t mean to pull you into it, but I just had to see you.” 
 
“Which is why I’m here.” 
 
Brian pulled a crumpled Kleenex from his pocket, his nose still draining from the heat of the tea 
combined with his unexpected emotional release. “I need some more of these.” 
 
“You stay put, I saw a gift shop down the hall. I’ll get a package.” 
 
“Boyd? Thanks.” 
 
“For Kleenex?” Boyd said with a smile as he stood.  
 
“For loving me.” 
 
Boyd leaned over and kissed the top of his head as he replied, “My pleasure.” 
 
Brian watched him walk out and leaned back with a sigh. A hand closed on his shoulder and he 
jumped at the intrusion, looking up at the handsome, concerned face of the priest he once fucked 
in the backroom of Babylon. He winced and shrugged free of him. “Isn’t a little early for last rites, 
padre?” 
 
“I’m here to offer comfort to Joan and her family, Brian. I’m glad you were able to come. May I 
sit down?” he noticed the second cup of tea and took the third chair without waiting to be invited. 
Brian sighed. This was all he needed. Religion was now going to rear its ugly, prejudiced head.  
 
“I suggest you go upstairs and let Claire weep on you. I’m fine.” 
 
“I’ve spent a lot of time with Claire already. I was sorry to hear about your trouble. I have to say 
I find it incredible. Whatever your faults may be, and we all have them, murder doesn’t seem to 
be in your makeup.” 
 
“You think?” Brian said with brittle disgust. “I suppose it’s the shame of having a son charged 
with murder that led to her stroke.” 
 
The priest smiled slightly. “Don’t be so quick to eat the blame, Brian. I think it was your mother’s 
high blood pressure combined with an unfortunate tendency to drink too much that caused the 
stroke.” 
 
“You knew she was drinking?” 
 
“I was trying to get her to admit she had a problem, but I wasn’t making much progress, sadly.” 
 
“Are you giving her the final dispensation?” 
 
“I already have. It’s prophylactic. When someone is critically ill, it’s best to just get it out of the 
way, if I can put it that way. Many of my parishioners who have received the extreme unction 
recover fully. It’s not a death sentence from God.” 
 
“At least that’s one little fun trick I don’t have to witness. Speaking of tricks, how are things at 
Babylon, padre?” 
 
Boyd walked up as the priest cut a glare at Brian. He handed Brian the pocket package of tissues 
and introduced himself to the priest, adding, “I’m Brian’s partner.” 
 
The priest looked from one man to the other as Boyd resumed his seat. “This is a development. 
Congratulations, Brian.” 
 
“Don’t even act like you’re happy for me, you fucking hypocrite, when your fucking church issues 
edict after edict about what sick fucks homos are and how we’re all going to fucking hell. 
Including you, I might add, but hey, who’s counting?” 
 
“Brian,” Boyd reached over and took his hand, but Brian pulled free and leaned back, his anger 
unreasonably intense.  
 
“You don’t know, Boyd. You just don’t know. I have to take a piss. Will you get me another one of 
these? I’ll be back.” He left and Boyd glanced at the priest.  
 
“He’s obviously distressed. Can I get you something?” 
 
“I’ll have a low fat latte, thanks.” 
 
Boyd came back with the beverages and said, “I’m Catholic, too. It is hard to reconcile the 
church’s official stance on homosexuality with my faith. Especially now that Brian’s entered my 
life and we’re going to make it as a pair. It’s a lot easier to be a Catholic when you’re a non-
practicing faggot. Now, I guess I’ll be a faggot who’s a non-practicing Catholic because you 
squeezed me out of your faith.” 
 
“Boyd, not everyone in the church agrees with every edict from Rome, even if we have to do so, 
officially. There are many forgiving, accepting congregations and I hope you can find one. I hope 
you can bring Brian into it. I don’t preach intolerance to my flock. How can I? I’m gay, too.” 
 
“I got that from what he said. It is rather hypocritical, isn’t it?” 
 
“Gay men are in the closet in every profession out there, including mine. Sometimes we have to 
stay inside in order to make changes in the structure. I’m going to go upstairs because I know 
I’m adding to Brian’s stress when he needs it least. I’m very happy he found someone. Take care 
of him.” 
 
“I intend to.” 
 
Brian and the priest passed in the doorway and Brian sat down heavily, stirring his fresh chai. 
“This stuff goes right through me.” 
 
“You tricked him, didn’t you?” 
 
Brian nodded. “Before I knew who he was. That was a lovely little treat to find out. Talk about 
your revelations.” 
 
Boyd smiled. “Did you out him to your mother?” 
 
“No way. I thought about it, but it would only have hurt her. What’s the point?” 
 
“You have a fatal attraction to blonds, don’t you?” Boyd teased and Brian smiled at him. 
 
“That would appear to be my weakness, yes.” 
 
“Lucky me. I’ll have to thank my mom for the blond genes.” 
 
“Thank her for the slim genes while you’re at it. Your dad is a porker.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “He has terrible eating habits and does nothing to work it off. Golf doesn’t count 
when you ride around in a cart.” 
 
“Was that Emmett dropping you off outside?” 
 
“He showed up at your loft with a very nice gift basket of goodies. He’s a colorful character, a real 
southern sissy boy. Southern sissy boys are a definite type where I come from.” 
 
“Emmett has a good heart. He can get under my skin, but he means well.” 
 
“He sends his love.” 
 
Brian winced. “Whatever.” 
 
“Were you two ever…?” 
 
Brian smiled. “Let me put your mind at rest where my friends are concerned. None of them have 
gotten into my pants other than Justin and Lindsay. The rest are complete eunuchs to me.” 
 
“Thanks for the clarification.” 
 
Brian blew his nose as his sinuses continued to flow. “I may be here awhile, Boyd. You don’t have 
to stay.” 
 
“Yes, I do.” 
 
“What are you doing here?” They looked up as Brian’s nephew paused at their table. “Aren’t you 
supposed to be in jail or something?” 
 
He had grown up in the time that Brian was away, moving from early pubescence to teenager, a 
tall, handsome boy who shared a subtle resemblance to Brian at that age. Brian glared at him and 
said, “They let me out to come up here and kick your ass. I have nothing to lose.” 
 
“Yeah, I’m really scared,” he cut his disgusted gaze to Boyd. “Who’s he? Some cop assigned to 
watch you?” 
 
“He’s my partner, Boyd. Boyd, this charmer is my nephew, the little lying sack of shit also known 
as John.” 
 
“Your ‘partner’?” John laughed cynically. “You mean your girlfriend?” 
 
Brian started to get up, but Boyd put a strong, restraining hand on his arm and shook his head. 
Brian looked at him, his rage rolling, but he exhaled slowly and remained seated. “You’re a very 
rude young man, John,” Boyd said in an even voice. “It won’t serve you well in life. You really 
need to get over that anger and resentment. You’re not even clever about it. You need to be 
clever when you’re attacking fags verbally, because we’re all pretty good at giving it back and 
then it just makes you look stupid.” 
 
John’s face grew red as he spluttered, “How about attacking you physically? Is that better? 
Because we like to do that, too.” 
 
Boyd shrugged, still holding onto Brian’s arm, feeling the tension of his muscles under his palm. 
“I suggest you revisit that idea in about five years and fifty pounds because right now I could 
drop you where you stand and being decked by a fag is even more embarrassing than being 
verbally abused by one.” 
 
Brian chuckled as John muttered an oath and walked up to the counter. “Like I’d ever fuck him,” 
Brian complained. “It’d be like fucking a viper.” 
 
“He’s very beautiful. The genes worked.” 
 
“Is he?” Brian winced. “I can’t get past his poisonous personality to take it in.” 
 
“Kids that age are almost all monstrous, Brian. And the gay thing is a big fear to them. What he 
did to you was very wrong, but I wouldn’t worry too much about his smart mouth. He has plenty 
of time to grow into a real human being.” 
 
“With Claire as his mother and a non-existent father? Doubtful.” 
 
“Maybe you could help.” 
 
Brian widened his eyes at his lover. “And maybe I could stop the rain, too. Are you nuts?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Sometimes anger like that underlies a real need to be accepted. Maybe John has 
his own issues.” 
 
Brian smiled and leaned back as he said, “I’ve fallen in love with Mahatma Ghandi.” 
 
“I think I’d look pretty hot in that little diaper thing he wore.” 
 
“Don’t even get me started in this setting.” 
 
Boyd let his tongue trace his upper lip as he said, “It’ll give us something to look forward to 
later.” 
 
Brian leaned across the table and put a hand on the back of Boyd’s head as he kissed him with an 
impulse he couldn’t deny. His nephew walked by just as that happened and said, “Gross!” as he 
went. The lovers separated, looked at each other and laughed, unbothered by his judgment. 

Current Mood:  crushed

Apr. 11th, 2005 04:11 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 73
 
Brian was mildly amused by the way Boyd’s naturally sweet and solicitous nature succeeded in 
winning his sister’s affection within minutes of their meeting. By the time they called it a night, 
Brian suspected she had a crush on his lover. As pathetic as that sounded. His mother was 
holding stable and the medical staff suggested the family get some rest. Relieved of the guilt for 
abandoning her, Brian was quick to agree to go home. As he drove through the quiet, pre-dawn 
streets of the city, he asked Boyd, 
 
“Are you hungry?” 
 
“Yeah. You?” 
 
“The diner’s open and Debbie rarely, if ever, works the deep graveyard shift. Want to chance it?” 
 
“Sure.” 
 
“Don’t expect the kind of food you get at the diner in Canard Rouge. This is strictly a greasy 
spoon, emphasis on the word greasy.” 
 
“I’m a southern boy. We were weaned on grease.” 
 
“So now my sister is in love with you,” Brian teased as Boyd laughed.  
 
“That may be a slight exaggeration of what Claire thinks of me. But she’s not the harridan you 
described, Brian.” 
 
“Yes, she is. You just haven’t yet seen that side of her.” 
 
“It had to be hard growing up with a brother who looked like you when Claire is rather, well, 
plain.” 
 
Brian chuckled. “Diplomat. Yeah, I certainly had more boys after me than she ever did.” 
 
“God can be cruel.” 
 
“God is cruel.” 
 
Brian parked in a lot at the apex of Liberty Avenue and they walked to the diner, hands casually 
clasped between them. At the door, Brian paused and said, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” 
 
“Will anyone be there at this hour?” 
 
“The clubs are winding down. Yeah, this is a big time for the diner. Come on, let’s get it over 
with.” Brian hesitated. “Wait. You duck in and see if Deb’s on duty. If she is, I can’t deal with her 
right now.” 
 
“How would I know Deb?” 
 
“Look for an overly made up transvestite in a curly red wig. That’s Debbie. The only straight 
woman who tries to look like a TV.” 
 
Boyd shook his head as he went in and emerged almost immediately. “There are only two 
waiters, one is a man and the other is a classic TV in a pink diner’s uniform.” 
 
“Tall and slim?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“I know him. That’s not Debbie. Let’s go.” 
 
The diner had become surreal to Brian. Too long gone, too much had happened to him. He 
slumped into a booth, not unaware of the whispers and stares that followed him. Now he was a 
celebrity murderer as well as a missing in action former stud. A few tried to greet him, but he 
shrugged them off, not in the mood to socialize. The male waiter was new, cute, a poignant 
reminder of Justin when he once slung hash at this dive. A college student, no doubt, on the 
make as well as making a little money. He rattled off the pink plate special, took their drink 
orders and gave them time with the menu. 
 
Boyd smiled across the Formica at Brian. “Double pork chops, fried, with French fries and fried 
okra? I see what you mean about the grease.” 
 
“You were warned. There’s a 24-hour breakfast menu on the back. That and the burgers, the tuna 
salad and the lemon bars are my only recommendations.” 
 
“What are you having?” 
 
“I’m going with breakfast.” 
 
“I’ll have whatever you order. Just make it two.” 
 
Brian did so as the kid brought two big mugs of steaming hot coffee. “You want cream with that?” 
 
“Do you have milk?” Boyd asked and the boy looked pained.  
 
“I guess. Regular or two-per cent?” 
 
“Regular, please.” 
 
He returned with a glass of milk that Boyd knew would prove a challenge for slopping into his 
coffee. The waiter gave Brian the long once over and asked, “Did you used to go out with Justin 
Taylor?” 
 
Brian glared at him. “Why?” 
 
“Did you?” 
 
“Why do you ask?” 
 
“He has some paintings of you in his art show at PIFA. I go to PIFA, too. But I’m a graphic artist. 
Someone said the paintings were of his former boyfriend.” 
 
“I know Justin,” Brian said ambiguously and the boy smirked and replied,  
 
“You have a nice dick.” 
 
“Thanks. So I’ve been told.” 
 
He walked away and Boyd smiled at him. “Dick? He has nude paintings of you on display?” 
 
“Apparently.” 
 
“You posed for him?” 
 
“Not voluntarily. He was a stealth sketcher. Weird that both of our former boyfriends did the art 
thing, isn’t it?” 
 
“Coincidental, but Jared didn’t do life studies.” 
 
“Too bad. I’d like to see the way he portrayed you.” 
 
“That would depend on his mood, I’m afraid. What is PIFA?” 
 
“Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts.” 
 
“He’s a student, still?” 
 
“Should be just about out of there, I think.” Brian hesitated. “I’ve paid for his college.” 
 
Boyd met his eyes and then looked away. He paused before he asked, “Why?” 
 
“He had a split with his father over the gay thing and his mother couldn’t afford it.” 
 
“So even after you split you paid?” 
 
“Yeah, with the understanding he’ll pay me back. Problem?” 
 
“It’s your money,” Boyd fiddled with the menu, plucked a napkin from the container, kept busy. 
Brian watched him and then reached over to take his hand and held firmly to it.  
 
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” 
 
“I guess the link bothers me. I hear what you’re saying, it makes sense, it’s very generous of 
you, but yes, it bothers me. And I’m not proud of that fact.” 
 
“I can’t stop paying. He’s a little behind because of the bashing and how that delayed his entry, 
but he must have a year left, at most. I can’t just abandon him now.” 
 
“I’m not asking you to, Brian. It’s none of my business.” 
 
“Don’t read something into it that isn’t there.” 
 
“I’m trying not to do that.” 
 
“I’ll admit that at first I did view it as a way to have some ingress into his life, but not anymore. 
Now I just consider myself his banker.” 
 
“Okay.” 
 
Their food arrived, giving them an excuse not to talk. Boyd plowed into fluffy scrambled eggs and 
crisp bacon, deciding it would be good under other circumstances. Tonight, it tasted a little flat, 
which he attributed to the bitter flavoring of jealousy. “Just shoot me,” he said, lying his fork 
down on the edge of the plate as Brian smiled.  
 
“Don’t I have enough trouble without shooting you?” 
 
“The last thing you need is for me to be jealous of your kindness towards a former lover. I did a 
hell of a lot for Jared, even after we were split. I have no room to talk. I’m sorry, Brian.” 
 
“I understand, Boyd. I really do. Jealousy isn’t rational. I’m jealous of the first Mrs. DeWinter, 
too, dead though he may be.” 
 
Boyd smiled at his reference to the classic novel and movie, “Rebecca”. “Didn’t you just want to 
see Joan Fontaine tell that dyke housekeeper to kiss her ass and oh yeah, see ya, you’re fired?” 
 
“Yeah, the whole new sheriff in town scene. And when she let her talk Joan into wearing the 
costume of the woman in the painting to the fancy dress ball, just as Rebecca had done, you 
wanted to scream at her for being so naïve. Shit, this is a gay conversation.” 
 
“I hate to be the one to tell you, Brian. You’re gay.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Are you sure about that?” 
 
“Oh my FUCKING god! Brian!” 
 
They looked up as a streak of youth propelled himself into Brian’s arms, throwing him back 
against the booth. Boyd allowed an amused smile to erupt as he focused first on the lanky boy 
with the shank of dirty-blond hair and a face that reminded him of a cute cartoon burro. He then 
focused on Brian’s comical discomfort as he attempted to free himself of the boy’s tentacled 
grasp. “God damn it, Hunter! Get off of me!” 
 
The boy grabbed Brian’s face in both hands and kissed him on the lips. Brian finally succeeded in 
pushing him back, before he drug his sleeve across his mouth as if to erase the kiss. “What is 
wrong with you?” he demanded and the boy settled in close to Brian, waving off his friends. Brian 
moved all the way to the wall to put space between them, but the boy closed the gap.  
 
“I’m just surprised to see you! Does Michael know you’re coming into town? Are you on the lam?” 
He began crunching a wedge of Brian’s toast and Brian sighed and leaned his head against the 
booth in a gesture of extreme ennui. 
 
“I’m here because my mother is sick and I have court permission to be here. No, I haven’t told 
Mikey, but I’m sure he’s heard by now.” 
 
“You look hot. Tan. Who’s the suit?” He nodded towards Boyd who laughed. Brian introduced 
them and then added,  
 
“Boyd’s my partner.” 
 
“As in business partner?” 
 
“As in life partner.” 
 
“Oh! He’s the one Michael was whining about?” Hunter narrowed his eyes to take Boyd in. “He’s 
nothing like the guy Michael described.” 
 
“How do I differ?” Boyd asked curiously and Brian laughed. 
 
“You probably don’t want to know.” 
 
“You’re hot,” Hunter volunteered. “The guy Michael described was a tight ass and older, I guess. I 
figured it was bullshit. I couldn’t see Brian hooking up with a bowser. Do you fool around? Three-
way? Hunt together?” 
 
“Isn’t it past your bed time, Hunter?” Brian interrupted. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?” 
 
“It’s summer. Duh.” 
 
“Your friends must miss you.” 
 
“Did Brian tell you that I had a massive crush on him?” 
 
Boyd smiled. “No, but I’m picking up a few subtle hints.” 
 
“You’re hot, too. I’d do both of you. Together, separate, it’s all good.” 
 
“Hunter, my eggs are getting cold and I can’t eat when my stomach’s churning. Toddle off, “ 
Brian insisted and Hunter grinned at him.  
 
“Okay, later, Brian. Think it over. Three-ways are hot.” 
 
He wiggled his eyebrows at Boyd, who tried not to laugh, and then he left to find his fiends. Brian 
watched him go, before he groaned. “Street kid Mikey and his partner took in. He thinks he wants 
to fuck me.” 
 
“I think he wants to fuck you, too.” 
 
“He’s not fucking me,” Brian said firmly as Boyd smiled. 
 
“That’s a good answer. Nice to see you do impose some minimum age requirements.” 
 
Brian smirked at the cloaked reference to Justin’s youth. “Don’t kid yourself. He’s plenty old now, 
was when I met him, but it’s too weird. Besides, I don’t find him hot.” 
 
“He’s hot enough.” 
 
“Yeah? You want it?” 
 
Boyd slid in on Brian’s side of the booth and slipped a hand over his thigh, inching towards his 
crotch as he kissed him and whispered, “You know what I want.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Show me.” 
 
Boyd let his fingers find the roll of Brian’s dick and cup it over his pants, stroking him through the 
fabric as he thrust his tongue into Brian’s mouth. Brian closed his eyes, feeling himself stiffen 
under Boyd’s expert manipulation. Boyd used his thumb to press and tease the lift under the head 
of his cock, and used his forefinger to circle the tip until it began to ooze. The kiss ended and 
Boyd watched Brian lean the back of his head against the booth, his eyes closing and lips parted 
as the heat of what he was doing under the table spilled color into Brian’s smooth cheeks. Boyd 
felt Brian’s cock grow long and thick, reaching the length of his fly. He pressed his mouth to 
Brian’s ear and whispered, “I can make you come right now, right here, or we can go home and 
do it better. What do you want?” 
 
Brian opened his eyes. He looked to the other diners who were mostly ignoring them, and the 
waiter, who was working other tables, and he realized that for all the semi-public sex he had 
experienced in Pittsburgh, he had never gotten off in the diner. With Debbie around most of the 
time, not to mention his friends, the opposite of sex was usually on his mind when he was here. 
But tonight, Boyd opened a new possibility and he felt the idea of it pound in his groin. “Jerk me 
off,” he whispered and Boyd smiled and turned slightly so his torso blocked any clear view from 
the side. He used his free hand to lift his coffee cup or push at the food on his plate with a fork, 
all calculated to deter attention from what his other hand was doing under the Formica. 
 
He opened Brian’s fly and took his lover’s hot flesh in his fist. Brian was trying to be cool, but the 
heat of the moment took over and he was breathing hard as his orgasm bore down on him. 
“Refill?” the waiter came over with a fresh pot of coffee and Brian groaned as Boyd paused in his 
pumping and smiled as the boy filled up the mugs, giving them a wary glance, but unable to 
reach a conclusion. As soon as he walked away, Boyd resumed his pumping and he felt the pre-
cum lubricate his stroke and dribble over his fist before Brian finally clenched and sat up straight 
as his body poured his ejaculation out in a series of strong emissions. Boyd used napkins to mop 
up the mess and Brian reached down to ensure his hand stayed on his cock until the pulsation 
faded.  
 
Boyd kissed him and then fixed his clothing, offering him an evil smile. “How was that?” 
 
“Naughty. Really, really naughty. I loved it. Let’s go home and finish it off.” 
 
“Allow me,” Boyd put some money on the table and they left the diner together, with Brian’s arm 
firmly around Boyd’s waist, his gaze fixed only on the exit. 

Current Mood:  grateful


Apr. 12th, 2005 04:04 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 74
 
By the time they reached the loft, Brian felt passion fade to emotional and physical exhaustion. 
Boyd read his mood and wanted to let him off the hook for the promised sex. As much as he 
wanted Brian, always wanted Brian, he knew what a toll this trip had taken on him, already.  
 
“You’ll have to be up and on your way back to the hospital in just a few hours,” he said as they 
walked towards the bed, not even turning on the lights in the main area, guided by the lamp 
shining beside the platform bed. “Why don’t we just get some sleep? We can jump each other 
tomorrow.” 
 
Brian cast him a grateful smile. He knew exactly what Boyd was doing and he appreciated it. He 
couldn’t remember the last time he felt this completely drained. “Whatever you want,” he said, 
and they undressed and climbed in bed together, cuddling close as Brian switched off the lamp. 
He thought he would find it hard to sleep in this bed, in this loft, after so much time away, but he 
was asleep within minutes.  
 
Boyd held Brian in his arms and listened to the slight wheeze of his deviated septum, a sound he 
had learned to recognize as what it meant when Brian was sleeping. It was strangely comforting 
to him. He let his fingers drift over the inverted horseshoe created by the muscles of Brian’s 
triceps and he closed his eyes, but sleep was elusive. He felt like they weren’t alone in this bed. 
The ghosts of Brian’s numerous tricks were somewhat intimidating, but it was one ghost, and not 
a trick, that tormented him most. 
 
The ghost of a small blond. 
 
Ambient light from the city drifted in through the glass wall to throw long shadows onto the 
exposed ceiling and brick walls. Boyd could feel how lonely it must have been for Brian to lie in 
this bed and stare at these industrial fittings and know his lover was across town in the arms of 
another man. He could picture Brian, rambling around in the loft, alone, home from the clubs, his 
trick of the night gone, his loneliness eating him from the inside out. He could hear Brian’s shoes 
echo on the hard floors as he paced the loft, trying to find a distraction. A joint, a drink, the 
computer, the television, but nothing would work.  
 
He’d crash on the bed, take something, wait for it to work, but the oblivion of sleep stayed out of 
his reach. Brian in pain. Nothing hurt Boyd more than thinking of Brian in pain. He was angry at 
this former lover, an unreasonable reaction, he knew, but still angry. He was angry for his 
betrayal, for his abandonment, and yet he was also grateful, for if he hadn’t left, Boyd wouldn’t 
be with Brian now. Just as Jared opened him up to the possibility of love with another man, Justin 
made it possible for Brian. And Boyd cashed in on that possibility.  
 
But still, the image of Brian in pain took the edge off that gratitude. Brian had told him about the 
party, the final event when Justin left with his other man. Boyd recalled the description Brian 
offered him, of removing his mask, literally and figuratively. Of how he felt when Justin walked 
out. Of how he felt going home alone that night. Boyd sighed, once again feeling the anger well 
up in him, anger over something that didn’t even happen to him.  
 
“Our eyes met,” Brian had said. “And we knew. We both knew. It was over. I couldn’t breathe. I 
just watched him go. Everyone watched him go. And then everyone looked at me and I knew I 
had to cover up what I was feeling. I grabbed the closest body and began to dance with him, but 
my facial muscles weren’t working right, and what was meant to be a smile came out like a 
grimace.” 
 
Boyd pictured it. He glanced at his lover and touched his lips to his cheek. “I’ll never leave you,” 
he whispered. “I’ll never run.” 
 
Brian didn’t stir, deeply ensconced in his exhaustion. The phone rang, causing him to jerk in 
Boyd’s arms, but Boyd quickly grabbed it before it could wake him and carried the portable into 
the other room. He feared bad news from the hospital, but he was wrong. “Brian?” A male voice, 
young. Boyd tensed. 
 
“No. He’s asleep.” 
 
“Who are you?” 
 
Boyd instantly knew this was Justin. Something about the way he asked made that clear. “I’m 
Boyd, his partner.” 
 
“His ‘partner’,” Justin said with an edge of sarcasm. “I see. May I speak with him?” 
 
“Look, it’s late and he’s had a very difficult day. Unless this is life or death, I’m not waking him 
up. Can you call back in the morning?” 
 
“You’re screening his calls now? Deciding who gets through?” 
 
“Tonight I am. He’s exhausted.” 
 
“If I were you, I wouldn’t get too comfortable. You aren’t the first person to occupy that side of 
the bed and you won’t be the last. Don’t kid yourself. Tell Brian to call me when he gets up. 
Doesn’t matter about the time. Call my cell phone. He has the number. Oh by the way, my name 
is Justin Taylor, and I was his partner once, too.” 
 
“I know who you are. I’ll tell him.” 
 
Boyd hung up, allowing himself a moment of annoyance before he returned to Brian’s bed, to 
Brian’s sleepy embrace, and finally allowed himself that same escape. 
 
Boyd awoke to the thrilling sensation of Brian’s mouth working his cock, as only Brian could do. 
He sucked him, licked him, nibbled him, urged him into a glowing erection and then spread out on 
top of him and kissed him, rubbing his own heat against Boyd’s. Boyd noticed the sun was up 
outside the sheer draperies, but beyond that he had no concept of the time. At that moment, he 
didn’t really care as he rested a foot on Brian’s muscular calf and greeted his lover’s hip grind 
with a compatible movement.  
 
Brian gripped Boyd’s wrists in his fists and spread his arms above his head, displaying his chest, 
licking his pec’s, his nipples, the hard wall of muscle framing his arm pits. Boyd groaned as the 
passion roared between them, whispering what he wanted Brian to do to him. Brian smiled and 
retrieved the lube and a condom from the bedside table. It was such an easy, seamless 
movement, Boyd wondered how many times he had done it before, and with whom. He decided 
to let that go. What mattered most was that he was doing it now, with him, and Boyd wanted no 
one else and nothing else other than Brian Kinney’s touch. Brian Kinney’s cock.  
 
He watched Brian lean back on his haunches, offering the condom to Boyd to stretch over his 
hard on. Boyd took his time opening the foil, and then let his hand travel up the length of Brian’s 
incredible cock. Sometimes he got so lost in the frenzy, he failed to fully appreciate the beauty of 
this instrument of pleasure. It was long enough that he could wrap both fists around it and the 
head would still protrude. It was thick and smooth, with enough vascularity to be pumped, but 
not so much to distract from the symmetry of shaft to head. The corona flared to enhance the 
differentiation from the stem, and the color was a shade darker, more so when he was close to 
orgasm. The head was perfectly shaped, full but not bulbous, silky to the touch, responsive and 
pointing the way for the rest to follow. 
 
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked as he noticed Boyd’s lingering touch. Boyd smiled. 
 
“The kid in the diner was so right. You do have a beautiful cock.” 
 
“You’re just now noticing that?” Brian said with a laugh and Boyd looked up at his unshaven face 
that had been relaxed by a good night’s sleep.  
 
“No, I’ve always known, but I’m taking a minute to really appreciate just how beautiful it is.” 
 
Brian leaned over and kissed him before he said, “It would be even more beautiful from the 
inside. You’re killing me. Let’s do it.” 
 
Boyd smiled and popped on the condom, letting Brian handle the lube. When he penetrated, Boyd 
closed his eyes, picturing that beautiful cock disappearing by the inch inside the tight confines of 
his body. “I wish we could film us together and watch it, Brian,” he said and Brian moaned as he 
pushed to full penetration. 
 
“Then we will. I’d like that too. Just for us.” 
 
“Right. Us and Falcon International Male Porn Films,” he teased, his giggle cut short by a moan 
that escaped when Brian lunged inside of him. From that moment on, nothing mattered but the 
fucking. Boyd kicked the back of his heel against Brian’s ass as if to push him in even deeper, and 
met his lunges with a buck of his hips until they were both spent and exhausted. Lying there, 
gasping, smelling of semen and sweat, Brian suddenly chuckled. 
 
“What?” Boyd asked, tickling his hand across his lover’s hard belly that was streaked with Boyd’s 
ejaculate. 
 
“Just thinking of how our film, produced by Falcon, would read in the TLA Catalogue. ‘Brian is an 
out of work ad executive on trial for murdering a hustler. Boyd is a small town lawyer who falls 
under his spell. But when the steamy action begins, which one is really in control or are they both 
lost in the heat of their forbidden attraction? Rated NC-17, anal, oral, other perversions, no 
animals were harmed in the making of this film’.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I’d buy it.” 
 
“Me too.” 
 
“What time is it?” 
 
“Around ten, I think.” 
 
“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?” 
 
“I called when I woke up. She made it through the night. They think that’s a favorable sign. 
Apparently the first couple of days are critical with stroke patients. She seems to be holding 
steady. Still critical, but not slipping. I’ll go over in a few. I don’t want you to bother, though. I’ll 
call you if I need you. You can drop me off and keep the car. Drive around this lovely town, 
whatever.” 
 
“Okay, but I don’t mind sitting with you.” 
 
“It’s boring. We can meet for lunch. How’s that?” 
 
“Fine, but I’ll have my mobile. Call if you need me.” 
 
“I will. Want to take a shower?” 
 
Boyd put a hand on his arm before he could get up. “Brian, Justin called you last night. I made 
the decision not to wake you because you were so exhausted and it was ridiculously late.” 
 
Brian frowned. “What did he want?” 
 
“He didn’t tell and I didn’t ask. Not my business. But he was miffed that I wouldn’t call you to the 
phone. I’m sorry if I overstepped, but you were so tired and it wasn’t an emergency.” 
 
“He knows I keep weird hours and if he’s working on his art, he does, too. But you were right. I 
needed to sleep. I’ll call him later. I’m sure it’s just to check on my mother.” 
 
Boyd nodded and Brian reached over and touched his cheek. “I love you. Don’t get all wound up 
over this. It’s inevitable that I’ll cross paths with Justin while I’m here. But I’m not going to look 
into his baby blues and suddenly lose my heart. Or my mind. I have new baby blues now, and he 
has whatever he has to gaze into. You’re going to have to trust me on this.” 
 
“I know. And I do. But I don’t trust him. There’s something very dismissive in his attitude about 
us, I can feel it when we talk.” 
 
“He never got through the walls you penetrated, Boyd. He doesn’t understand how close we are. 
He doesn’t think I’m capable of that vulnerability. So of course he’s skeptical and probably 
resentful. He wonders how far we might have gone had I been this open with him. But the simple 
fact is, I never felt safe enough with him to be this open. I always felt Justin was tentative, one 
step away from a walk. I never felt secure. And a lot of that was my fault, because I wouldn’t let 
him close enough to make me feel secure. So it was a vicious circle. But with you, I’m at home. 
I’m safe. And I love you. So get over it.” 
 
Boyd smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, too. I’m over it.” 
 
“Good. Let’s go get that shower and then see what we can scrounge for breakfast in that basket 
Em brought over.” 
 
 
After Boyd dropped Brian at the hospital with a lingering goodbye kiss, he stopped at a nearby 
bookstore and bought a couple guides on Pittsburgh. One was complete with detailed maps, and 
he found what he wanted, driving straight to that location. He parked near a sleek glass and steel 
building and walked inside, feeling very old as everyone he passed in the hall appeared to be a 
teenager, even if they were in their twenties. They all dressed with similar apparent disinterest in 
fashion, which made a fashion statement by default. 
 
He followed the signs to the exhibition featuring three artists who attended the Institute. The first 
thing he saw upon entering the exhibition was a large sepia colored rendering of his lover, naked, 
lying on his side and holding an apple. He was transfixed by it, the talent of the artist apparent in 
the lifelike rendering that also had just enough extrapolation to make it uniquely his own vision of 
Brian. It was called, “Fruit of knowledge”. Boyd smiled at the double entendre, knowing Brian 
would find that amusing. 
 
“Like it? Because I’m about to take it down.” 
 
Boyd followed the voice to a young man with shaggy pale blond hair, a drastically pretty face and 
a compact, tight body with a nicely rounded ass that was well-displayed even in baggy cargo 
pants. His hooded sweatshirt was paint-splattered and Boyd knew this was Justin. He felt a flush 
of intimidation brought about by his youth and beauty. Not to mention his talent. 
 
“Why are you taking it down? I like it very much.” 
 
Justin grinned at him, flashing a smile that had the intensity of a younger Matt Damon. “The 
show’s over. They rotate. My time is up.” 
 
“Too bad. Is if for sale?” 
 
“This one? No. It’s part of my private collection.” He gave it a long, wistful look. “I could never 
sell this one.” 
 
Boyd sighed, reading emotion into that statement. “Will you show me the rest of your work?” 
 
Justin took him through the maze of moveable walls to point out abstract slashes of color mixed 
with lifelike drawings, more than one of which featured Brian Kinney in various stages of undress. 
“Why this model?” Boyd asked and Justin smiled. 
 
“Because they wanted some representational art and I’ve lately been veering into computer 
generated art forms and abstracts. This was part of an older portfolio, so I drug them out. 
Besides which, he’s beautiful, don’t you think? Of course you do. You’re shagging him, now.” 
 
Boyd cut a look at the artist. “Excuse me?” 
 
“You’re the new boyfriend, right? I may be young but I’m far from stupid.” 
 
“How did you…?” 
 
“For one thing, the accent. Not local. Very Emeril. For another thing, I’ve talked to you on the 
phone, so I picked up on the voice inflections. For a third thing, I saw the way you looked at that 
drawing of Brian. I know that look. I’ve worn that look. What are you doing here?” 
 
“Boyd Coulter,” he stuck out his hand, embarrassed by his failed subterfuge and Justin shook it 
with wary reticence. “A waiter at the diner told us you had an exhibit that featured nude drawings 
of Brian. I wanted to see them. Not only for obvious reasons, but because I was interested in 
gauging your talent. Brian’s told me you were talented, but I wanted to see it myself.” 
 
“What does a fucking lawyer know about art?” 
 
“I know a little. I know what I like. I lived with an artist, so I think I understand the genre 
somewhat, through osmosis.” 
 
Justin scoffed at that. “Who was this artist of yours?” 
 
“He wasn’t mine, but we were a couple. His name is Jared Hall. He died a few years ago.” 
 
Justin’s eyes grew wide. “You lived with Jared Hall? THE Jared Hall?” 
 
Boyd nodded. Justin went on. “When?” 
 
“Awhile ago. A few years before he died.” 
 
“Omigod. He is such a genius! Do you have any of his works?” 
 
“Yes, several.” 
 
Justin paused and then said, “You want to get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria? I would love to 
hear about Jared, how he worked, where he worked, about the paintings you kept of his. Want 
to?” 
 
Boyd smiled. Talking about Jared wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but the young man’s enthusiasm 
over his former lover’s extreme talent pleased him, and spending this time sniffing out Brian’s ex 
was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss. “What about breaking up the exhibit?” 
 
“It can wait,” Justin said with a dismissive tone, leading Boyd out of the hall and towards the 
elevators, casting a sidelong glance at the visitor’s profile as he sized up the present contender 
for Brian’s affections and mentally ticked off where he led and where he followed. He decided he 
came out overall in the lead column, and that fact pleased him as they traveled down to the 
cafeteria in the tense silence of détente. 

Current Mood:  stressed


Apr. 13th, 2005 04:59 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 75
 
Gang, Randall posting for Brian. He has to work tonight and thus he may not have a chapter 
tomorrow. He wanted me to warn everyone of that when I edited and posted. So consider 
yourselves warned. Ran 
 
ETA - fixed the run in, you twat. cael 
 
 
“Weren’t you even going to call me?” Michael asked with a petulant pout after cornering Brian in 
the waiting room outside the ICU. Brian led him downstairs to the parking lot where he could 
smoke. They sat on a curb under the late morning sun that felt almost cool to Brian after the 
Louisiana heat.  
 
“I just got here, Michael. I spent the whole day at the hospital, left well after midnight, got a bite 
at the diner, and went to the loft to crash. I suppose Hunter was your roving reporter. The idea of 
a curfew has obviously never invaded your happy home.” 
 
Michael glared at his old friend. “Hunter has an unfortunate habit of sneaking out. Sound like 
anyone you know at that age?” 
 
Brian shrugged, refusing to admit to any similarity to the boy. “You need to put a lock on that 
window.” 
 
“He said you and the boyfriend were incredibly cozy at the diner,” Michael twisted the screws and 
Brian glared at him.  
 
“The ‘boyfriend’ has a name. It’s Boyd.” 
 
“Whatever.” 
 
“Cozier than Hunter knew,” Brian said with a private smile that annoyed Michael. 
 
“What does that mean?” 
 
“Nothing.” 
 
“Mom wants you to come over tonight for lasagna. Command performance. Only if your mother 
takes a turn for the worst can you get out of it. He’s invited too, of course.” 
 
Brian beamed at Michael. “Now you’ve presented me with an ethical dilemma. Do I go or do I 
wish my mother’s health down the drain?” 
 
Michael leaned a shoulder into Brian and laughed. “You suck.” 
 
“You wish.” 
 
“Why did you bring him? Did the court make him come? Keep an eye on you or something?” 
 
Brian shook his head and lit another cigarette just as he stubbed out the last. “I wanted him here 
with me, Michael. Is that so hard to understand? I don’t want to be separated from him. It’s that 
simple.” 
 
“Why? I mean it’s not like he even knows your mother.” 
 
“So? He’s here to support me, not for her.” 
 
“Your friends support you.” 
 
Brian smiled. “Novel thought. I want Boyd here.” He rapped his knuckles on Michael’s head. “Get 
that through that hard skull of yours. I want him here. With me. Understand?” 
 
Michael ducked away from him and frowned. “I hear you, I just don’t see the point. Since when 
do you have to have someone around to hold your hand every minute? What happened to you?” 
 
Brian looked at his old friend’s perplexed profile and then said, “I grew up, Mikey. Surprise.” 
 
“So where is he now if he’s so frigging important to you?” 
 
“He dropped me off and took the car to sightsee in our lovely town. We’re meeting for lunch. 
Having him here with me doesn’t mean he can never leave my side. Christ, aren’t you in a 
relationship yourself? What the hell have you learned from it?” 
 
“I’m not you! We’re not like you!” 
 
“Meaning what? I’m not entitled to be in love or not worthy of it or what?” 
 
“Meaning it’s just not you.” 
 
“It’s me, Mikey. It’s just a me that you can’t or won’t see. It’s Brian Kinney, the adult game. I’m 
happy. Be happy for me. And I’m tired of having this conversation, so on that note, I’m going 
back upstairs to watch bad television and listen to my sister whine.” 
 
“I’ll go with you.” 
 
“You don’t have to.” 
 
“I want to. Really.” 
 
Brian shrugged and they walked into the building together, bound by history but separated by 
divergent experiences. 
 
 
Not far away, Boyd was having a surreal experience with Brian’s former lover. Their cautious 
conversation revolved around Jared and his work. Justin was obviously well-schooled in the art 
world, and in Jared’s legend. They used the vocabulary of insiders, and the civility between them 
was precise. And then Justin asked, “How does one go from a passionate creative genius like 
Jared Hall to a Brian Kinney? It doesn’t follow.” 
 
Boyd smiled at the younger man. “I shouldn’t have to tell you about Brian’s draw.” 
 
“Oh I know how hot he is, how beautiful. But he’s completely different from Jared, isn’t he?” 
 
“What you mean is, I’m completely different from you and what the hell does Brian see in me? I 
can answer that easily, Justin. I don’t have a fucking clue. I must be the luckiest man in the 
world.” 
 
Justin leaned back in his seat, staring at Boyd as if searching for sarcasm. He finally laughed. 
“Right.” 
 
“At least that’s how I feel about it. I just hope he could give you a better answer to the question 
of why he chose to be with me. He probably could. He’s always quick on his feet and very 
articulate.” 
 
“Yeah, very. But as a lawyer, aren’t you?” 
 
“Not when it comes to my feelings for Brian. I get all mired down in emotions and turn into an 
awkward adolescent.” 
 
“Brian was always attracted to adolescents. In the past, anyway.” 
 
“Was he? That surprises me a little.” 
 
“Obviously he’s going another way now.” 
 
“I’m no adolescent, that’s true.” 
 
“So you came here on the sly to check me out?” 
 
“No, I had no reason to think you’d be at the exhibit. In fact, I presumed you’d be in class. I 
came here to check out the nude paintings of Brian.” 
 
“Satisfied?” 
 
“You’re very talented and he’s very beautiful. I’m not surprised by either bit of knowledge.” 
 
“My boyfriend wasn’t thrilled with my choices for display. But I drew them before I was bashed. 
Since then, nerve damage in my hand prevents me from relying on the more traditional art 
forms, so these life drawings are the best of what I’d completed before the baseball bat,” he 
touched his head. “Did Brian tell you about that?” 
 
“Yes. It was horrible. For him, too. I’m so sorry that you went through that trauma. The world has 
more than a fair quotient of sick fucks.” 
 
Justin nodded. “Brian blames himself.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
“I don’t blame him, though. It wasn’t his fault. And he did save my life.” 
 
“I’m sure you’ve told him that, but he has a tendency to accept any blame anywhere near him. 
He was raised that way. I hope I can help him overcome it, someday.” 
 
“How? Are you a shrink as well as a lawyer?” 
 
“No, just by offering him unconditional love and peace.” 
 
“You love him unconditionally?” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “I’m certainly working on removing any conditions. Sometimes conditions creep 
up on you that you didn’t even know were there.” 
 
“Love Brian, love his tricking,” Justin said with a scowl and Boyd looked down at his empty coffee 
mug, refusing to get into that part of their life together. Justin probed. “How do you deal with 
that?” 
 
“I consider our private life private, Justin. I really can’t go there.” 
 
He nodded. “Right. It’s not easy to explain, is it? When your friends ask what kind of relationship 
do you really have when he’s out fucking anything that moves? You can say, ‘that’s just Brian’ 
only so many times.” 
 
Boyd had passed the threshold of discomfort. He felt disloyal, sneaky, and weird to be having this 
discussion. “I should be going. I’m supposed to meet Brian for lunch. I told him you called, by the 
way. I’m sure he’ll call you when he can, or you can try him on his mobile.” 
 
“You can relax about me, you know. I have a boyfriend and I’m the one who left Brian. If I 
wanted to be with him, I wouldn’t have left. He made it impossible for me to stay.” 
 
“Isn’t that another way of leaving?” Boyd asked as he stood up. “I’m not nervous about you, 
Justin. Whatever alignment of the planets that had to happen to bring Brian to me, whatever past 
experiences made it possible for him to fall in love with me, whatever love and disappointment he 
knew before me that brought him into my arms, I thank God for it. Because I believe we were 
meant to be together. It’s cosmic, it’s karma, it’s inevitable. If Cole Porter were alive, he’d write 
songs about us. If I had any talent in that direction, I’d write songs about us. Or poetry. Or a 
novel. But I’m just a country lawyer. All I can do is love him and tell him so and try to be the 
partner he wants and needs. That’s what I can offer him. So far it’s been enough. You’re a very 
talented guy, and I wish you much success in the art world.” 
 
Justin smiled. “You really don’t fool me, Boyd. I know you’re not just a country lawyer, as you put 
it. I know you’re filthy rich, for one thing. I did my research. And you’re not this ‘aw shucks, ain’t 
love grand’ shy guy, either. You met Brian when he was most vulnerable and you glommed onto 
him. When he’s back on top, it will be interesting to see where that leaves you. Because I don’t 
see Brian settling down for life in a small town on the swamp.” 
 
“Nor do I. But wherever he wants to go, I’ll be there. Unlike you, Justin, there’s no one else I 
want to be with, no one better for me.” Boyd leaned both hands on the table and offered a slight 
smile to soften the blow as he said, “And I will fight for him to the end of time. Against anyone 
who tries to come between us.” 
 
Justin leaned back as Boyd stood up straight and then he responded, “You can’t stop the 
inevitability of the tides no matter how hard you resist, Boyd.” 
 
Boyd shrugged. “Then I’ll drown trying. Nice to have met you, Justin. Enjoy your life and your 
career. I hope both give you everything you want.” He walked away, feeling Justin’s laser stare 
follow him out.  
 
 
Brian sensed Boyd’s quiet mood as soon as he got in the car. He kissed him and Boyd kissed him 
back, but part of Boyd was missing. Brian attributed that loss to the fact Michael was an 
unexpected third wheel who invited himself to their lunch. They went to a nearby sushi restaurant 
and Brian placed a hand on Boyd’s arm as he perused the menu with uncommon intensity. 
 
“What’s wrong?” 
 
“Nothing.” 
 
Michael looked from one man to the other, taking in their tension with glee.  
 
“Something’s bothering you,” Brian’s intuition was infallible. “Spill.” 
 
“Can we discuss it later?” Boyd asked, glancing at Michael and then at Brian. Brian took in that 
silent message and shrugged. 
 
“If you’d rather.” 
 
“I would.” 
 
“Don’t let me cramp your style,” Michael pouted. “I can go. The comic shop is walking distance 
from here.” 
 
“Would you, Mikey?” Brian asked and Boyd shook his head. 
 
“Don’t be rude, Brian. I’m sorry, Michael. Please stay. It’s nothing that can’t wait.” 
 
“How am I being rude? He offered to go.” 
 
“Brian…” Boyd said with a warning, then sighed and ticked off several choices, handing the slip to 
Brian. “Would you turn that in for me? I need to go to the john.” He got up and made his way to 
the bathroom. He wasn’t there long enough to unzip his fly before Brian walked in and pressed 
him up against the cold metal door of the neighboring stall.  
 
“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, holding tightly to Boyd’s biceps. Boyd sighed. 
 
“You won’t like it.” 
 
“I don’t like it already.” 
 
“May I please take a piss? I’m dying.” 
 
Brian released him, leaning against the sink and watching Boyd relieve himself. When he finished, 
he nudged Brian aside to wash his hands. Brian let him dry them off, and then grabbed him 
again. “You’re scaring me.” 
 
Boyd reached up and touched his face. “I did a stupid thing. I wanted to see those nude drawings 
of you so I went to PIFA.” 
 
Brian let him go, looking cautious. “And so?” 
 
“They were wonderful. He’s talented.” 
 
“Yes, he is. So?” 
 
“I ran into him.” 
 
“You ‘ran’ into him or you stalked him?” 
 
“It was purely coincidental. He was there taking down the exhibit. He made me pretty quickly. I 
couldn’t lie to him, that would be juvenile.” 
 
Brian’s tension was apparent in his suddenly cool demeanor. “Was there a scene?” 
 
“Of course not. We had a cup of coffee. Very civil.” 
 
“You two sat down over coffee and talked about what? Me?” 
 
Boyd winced. “Jared, mostly, at first. He was very interested in his work. But to be honest, it all 
drifted back to you.” 
 
“How special. So how did I fare?” 
 
“I said too much, Brian. I guess I felt challenged or I felt the need to justify my worthiness or 
something. I got a little defensive, and I’m not proud of that. But I didn’t give away anything 
about our private life, only about how strong my feelings are for you.” 
 
“Why do you think it’s necessary to tell my ex how you feel about me?” 
 
“It isn’t. I just fell into a trap. I’m sorry.” 
 
Brian shook his head and went over to the urinal, deciding to use it since it was there. He wanted 
to turn his back on Boyd, to give him a moment to process this information. But Boyd came up to 
him and pressed himself to his back, slipping his arms around him and locking them at his waist. 
His breath was warm on the back of Brian’s neck as he whispered, “Don’t be mad at me. I love 
you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 
 
Brian closed his eyes, feeling enough of a jump in his dick that there was a brief skitter in his 
stream as certain muscles trained to shut off that function when excited tightened and released. 
He managed to finish, then took Boyd’s hand from his waist and placed it on his dick. “Touch me,” 
he pleaded and Boyd closed his fist around Brian, feeling the blood flow into the tissue and heat 
up his flesh. He knew there was a confrontation to come from this meeting with Justin, but he 
was relieved to put it off until later, replacing tension with sexual arousal, an escape they could 
both depend on without fail. 

Current Mood:  bitchy


Apr. 15th, 2005 04:53 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 76 
 
Debbie’s feet were killing her. She was a half hour from shift-end, but then she had to go home 
and prepare a meal for her favorite people. Why did it always fall on her to be the glue? Because 
she was the Mom, that’s why. Poor Brian. The son of a bitch. But the poor thing. She knew why 
he left and it wasn’t on some journey to find himself. He left because he was in pain and he had 
to get away from the constant reminders that Justin had moved on without him. That was bad 
enough. But now this ridiculous murder shit and on top of that his bitch of a biological mother was 
on death’s doorstep. Too mean to die, that was Debbie’s view of Joan Kinney.  
 
She hoped Brian could be there. She missed the little shit like crazy, despite the fact he made her 
nuts. And the boyfriend! What about this boyfriend crap? How unlike Brian was that? But like she 
told Mikey, if it was true, God bless them. It was about time Brian opened that door in his big, old 
heart to someone new. She could kick her fat ass for missing the moment when Brian brought his 
new boyfriend to the diner, but her co-workers assured her the boyfriend was hot and that he and 
Brian were very affectionate together.  
 
What she wouldn’t give to see Brian Kinney acting silly in love! Maybe tonight, but no, he’d be 
guarded around everyone. But Debbie could tell. She could look at them once and she could tell if 
it was real. Speaking of real, she walked over to the back booth and sat down with a plop. She 
slid out of her mules and let her barking feet howl for a minute. Justin looked up from his half-
eaten burger and smiled. But it wasn’t a Sunshine smile, it was a tentative, polite smile. 
 
“What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape?” she asked. As if she didn’t know. 
 
“Nothing. I’m the one eating.” 
 
“Don’t even try to fuck me around. I know you. Let me guess. It’s about six-one with big hazel 
eyes and a killer body?” 
 
Justin concentrated on his food, but the slight knit of his brow assured Debbie she hit home. “Past 
history, Deb.” 
 
“Right.” 
 
“I moved on, he moved on. Why should I care if he’s in town?” 
 
“Honey, moving on doesn’t always mean you didn’t leave your shoes under someone’s bed. Little 
reminders are always cropping up. And this is a big one, the fact that he’s back and the fact that 
he’s not alone.” 
 
He looked up at her. “Have you met him? The boyfriend?” 
 
“No, but I will tonight unless Brian’s hag of a mother kicks off and obligates him to do the family 
thing. I can’t believe I just said that,” she crossed herself with superstitious reflection. “Anyway, 
I’m cooking. I didn’t ask you and Ethan because I wasn’t sure how awkward that might be. Sorry, 
kiddo.” 
 
“Ethan’s in Philly, giving a concert.” 
 
She smiled. “Then come on over, Sunshine!” 
 
“No, I don’t think Brian’s boyfriend would like that very much.” 
 
She reached across the table and laid a hand on his arm, her ‘I’m Not Really A Waitress’ red nail 
lacquer chipped and in need of repair. “I don’t know him, but you’re one of mine, so you win. 
Besides, it’s been a long time since you and Brian were a thing. Time heals all wounds, right?” 
 
Justin met her eyes and shrugged. “Every time I ran into Brian before he left, it was tense. He 
always seemed so formal, so chilly. I don’t think he’d want to see me, Deb.” 
 
“Of course he will, Sunshine. Things are different now. He’s not alone and broken hearted. He has 
a boyfriend, like you. You guys were too close for too long to let there be a permanent rift 
between you. Relationships change. People go from being friends to lovers to friends again. It 
happens. I would love to see you and Brian reach an understanding, bury the guilt and the pain. 
Wouldn’t you?” 
 
He pushed his plate away, and said, “Truth? I’m jealous. How stupid is that? I’m the one who left 
Brian. I have a partner. We’ve been together longer than Brian and I were together. I never 
wanted to hurt Brian. So why can’t I just be happy he’s not alone? Why am I jealous of this guy?” 
 
“Because you’re human. You see someone else in the place you so desperately wanted at one 
time in your life. You wonder what he has that you lacked that made it possible for Brian to open 
up to the possibilities. But listen, Sunshine, it isn’t a lacking in you. It’s all about the timing. Brian 
got the big wake up call when you broke his heart. He’s had time to reflect on his fucked up way 
of life. He had time to realize what more he could have. And then he met this man and it all came 
together. Good for him. I’m happy for him. But being jealous of that is natural, honey. You 
wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you. But Brian just couldn’t do it back then. He wasn’t 
ready. So he lost you. His risk.” 
 
“I met him.” 
 
“You met who?” 
 
“Boyd. The boyfriend.” 
 
Debbie’s eyes grew wide. “Tell!” 
 
He related the story. She smiled. “To be a fly on the wall. Is he hot?” 
 
Justin shrugged, considered that, and said, “He’s okay. Tall, Brian’s size, maybe, decent body, 
blond, I guess he’s…” he hesitated. “Fuck, okay. He’s hot.” 
 
“Of course he’s hot. He’s with Brian. Brian only does hot. You’re hot, sweetie. Another blond,” she 
shook her head. “Poor Michael, he never had a chance. Too dark.” 
 
They both laughed. “He’s very Southern, that kind of polite while he’s cutting your throat, you 
know? Like Emmett.” 
 
“I know what you mean. Southern boys are very hot and lethal.” 
 
“I was rude. I didn’t mean to be but it just came out that way.” 
 
“I’m sure he didn’t expect you to hug him close and welcome him to the Pitts.” 
 
“He stayed polite, but he definitely let me know Brian was his pissing pole.” 
 
She laughed. “He’ll need a backbone to be in a relationship with La Kinney. Michael tells me 
Brian’s given up the tricking. Not that he has much opportunity in that little town where he’s 
trapped, but still. He had a way of finding tricks in unlikely places. Maybe he’s finally grown up.” 
 
Justin shook his head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” 
 
“You won’t see it, Sunshine. So go ahead and believe it.” 
 
He winced. She was right. He wasn’t part of Brian’s life anymore. He’d never know unless he just 
happened upon evidence of his infidelity. “This guy is older. Probably Brian’s age.” 
 
“Oh no not that,” Debbie teased. “An age-appropriate lover!” 
 
Justin laughed. “Shut UP.” 
 
“Honey, are you and Ethan okay?” 
 
He nodded. “We have our moments like anyone else, but yeah. We’re okay. I know that makes it 
even more ridiculous that I’m acting this way, but…” 
 
“It’s all natural, Sunshine. Even if Brian is totally smitten with the new guy, he’ll still have mixed 
feelings for you. That’s the way love works.” 
 
“He did love me, didn’t he, Debbie? In his way?” 
 
“Of course he did, honey. And he still does. In his way.” 
 
Justin sighed. “I don’t know if I should come to dinner.” 
 
“Of course you should. You need to see them together, understand where he is and close that 
door. He needs that, too. You’ll both be more peaceful. Bring Daphne. I haven’t seen her in ages.” 
 
“Okay, why not? We’ll be there. If she’s free. If not, I’ll come alone.” 
 
A young man walked up to the table and said, “May I please have my check, Debbie? I need to 
go. Mold is growing on my rolls I’ve been waiting so long.” 
 
She glared at him. “Don’t get your 2-xist’s in a twist, drama queen. Here,” she ripped off a check 
from her pad. “And the going tip is twenty per cent now, not the measly ten you always leave.” 
 
“When I get twenty per cent service, I’ll leave a twenty per cent tip.” 
 
As he walked away she muttered, “And that’s how you get dynel hair in your food.” 
 
Justin laughed and shook his head as normalcy returned to his life. 
 
********************************************** 
 
“So you’re just going to go to dinner and leave me here alone?” Claire whined as Brian and Boyd 
prepared to leave the hospital. Brian glared at her. 
 
“You were gone all afternoon. It’s my turn. They’re telling us no change is good, and for us to go 
home tonight. Quit being a martyr and go home. They know how to reach us both is anything 
happens.” 
 
“You are so selfish.” 
 
“Claire,” Boyd soothed. “Brian hasn’t seen his friends in a very long time. I would think even your 
mom would understand his taking a few for a reunion dinner. Let me give you my cell phone 
number as a backup just in case you miss Brian.” 
 
He programmed it into her mobile for her and she gave him a doe-eyed smile that her brother 
found particularly pathetic. “Thanks, Boyd.” 
 
“You go get some rest, you deserve it.” He kissed her cheek and Brian rolled his eyes and took 
Boyd’s arm, leading him away. 
 
“You laid it on a little thick, didn’t you?” he asked as they entered the elevator. 
 
“She’s in pain, Brian. And she seems so very lonely to me. I feel for her.” 
 
“Your heart is bleeding again.” 
 
“She’s your sister. That makes her my family, too. Can’t I be nice?” 
 
“You’d better sharpen your not so nice skills fast, Boyd. I’m about to throw you into a buzz saw. 
Debbie, Melanie, Mikey, hell, I wouldn’t be surprised it Justin were there. It’s like chum to the 
sharks.” 
 
Boyd laughed. “I’m sure they’re nice people. It will be great to see Lindsay again, I think we 
connected a little, and Gus, of course. I like Emmett and I’m used to Ted and then there’s 
Mikey…I can survive that.” 
 
“And lord knows you and Justin bonded,” Brian quipped as Boyd laughed and took his hand, 
holding tightly to it.  
 
“I wouldn’t say ‘bonded’ exactly, but we’re beginning to understand each other a little, maybe.” 
 
“How weird is that?” 
 
“I’m interested to see you two together, so I hope he is there.” 
 
Brian shook his head. “This smells like a disaster movie to me.” 
 
“Cue the Titantic.” 
 
They both laughed and then Brian got behind the wheel of the rental car, reluctantly heading in a 
familiar direction. They reached the house at the same moment when Melanie and Lindsay pulled 
up. Melanie was carrying her baby, who straddled her hip, her dark hair and eyes a reflection of 
both parents. Gus squealed “DADDY!” as Lindsay unbuckled his car seat and he propelled himself 
into Brian’s arms. Brian scooped him up and kissed his cheek, inhaling the scent of his hair as he 
held him close. Boyd beamed at them and then gave Lindsay a welcoming hug and shook 
Melanie’s free hand as he was introduced. He remarked on how pretty her daughter was, bringing 
a grateful smile from her.  
 
Brian leaned down to receive Lindsay’s kiss and said, “Mel,” in greeting to her partner, who 
replied, “Brian.” 
 
“Your kid’s grown up. She looks like Mikey.” 
 
“She looks like both of us,” she corrected, looking from Brian’s handsome face to Gus’s similar 
features, not commenting on the obvious. Vic greeted them at the door and the pungent scent of 
baking pasta wafted out with him.  
 
“Prepare to see a faggot’s nightmare interpretation of interior design,” Brian muttered to his 
partner as he carried Gus across the threshold.  
 
“That’s rude,” Boyd said with a smile, and Brian shrugged. 
 
“Welcome to my family, Boyd,” it sounded like a warning as they entered the house together. 

Current Mood:  contemplative

Apr. 16th, 2005 09:01 am - SWAMP FEVER, Chapter 77
 
You’re squishing me!” Gus complained as Debbie threw her arms around Brian and his son, 
leaving a smear of high-gloss red lipstick on Brian’s cheek.  
 
“Run for your life,” he said to Gus as he pulled back and lowered his son to the floor. Gus followed 
his nose to the kitchen and Boyd reached up to smooth the lip imprint from his lover’s cheek, as 
Debbie turned her attention to him. 
 
“Deb, this is…” Brian started to say, but she cut him off, reaching up to cup Boyd’s chin in her 
hand as she gave him a long once-over before concluding, 
 
“Yes, of course, you are absolutely beautiful. I knew you would be. And what a body,” she 
squeezed his biceps. “You could give Ben a run for the pecs. You did good, sweetie,” she said to 
Brian who rolled his eyes as Boyd turned as red as Debbie’s wig.  
 
“I did warn you,” Brian reminded him as Debbie took Boyd’s hand and led him into the living 
room, followed by Brian.  
 
“Everyone, shut the fuck up and let me introduce our guest. This is Brian’s boyfriend…” she 
hesitated. “What was your name again, honey?” 
 
“Boyd Coulter,” he said and she grinned. 
 
“Cute name. Boyd, this is my son, Michael, who you met already,” Michael used his daughter’s 
little hand to give him a pallid wave as he bounced her on his knee. “And you met the girls and 
the babies, of course. This is Ben, Michael’s partner.” Ben walked over to shake Boyd’s hand. 
 
“You’re a brave man,” he said and Boyd smiled as Ben then shook Brian’s hand and welcomed 
him home. Debbie went on. 
 
“My brother Vic,” Vic also shook Boyd’s hand and clapped Brian on the back. “Emmett you met. 
Ted you know.” 
 
“Hi, sweetie,” Emmett chirped as Ted waved. “That’s Rodney, Vic’s partner, and Carl, my partner, 
and Justin and Daph are on the way. I hope. Now, everyone make Boyd feel welcome and 
welcome home, Brian.” She hugged him again, tightly, and then dabbed at her moist mascara. “I 
need to check the fucking lasagna.” She blew her nose in a rumpled tissue she pulled from her 
cuff and Gus parroted,  
 
“Check fucking lasagna.” 
 
“Nice,” Brian observed, feeling awkward as everyone grew silent and stared at them. Boyd took 
his arm and they sat down together on the couch, the fingers of their hands intertwined and 
resting on the cushion between them. The silent observation continued for a minute, and then 
Melanie said,  
 
“So, Boyd, Linds tells me you’re a lawyer. What do you practice?” 
 
“General practice in a small town. Mostly business and some estate planning. Civil trial work, 
occasionally.” 
 
“In a firm?” 
 
“No, sole practitioner.” 
 
“You can make a living at that in a small town?” 
 
“Just,” Boyd said with a smile. Brian squeezed his hand. Of course Boyd didn’t mention that 
making a living was the least of his worries. He never would. Vic asked,  
 
“How did you two meet?” 
 
“He brought me my lunch when I was in jail,” Brian said. Vic stared at him, unsure of how to 
respond. Which was the effect Brian hoped for.  
 
“How did all that happen, Brian?” Vic asked. Brian shrugged. 
 
“I stopped for gas, got my cock sucked by the attendant at the gas station, who later turned up 
dead.” 
 
“Brian,” Boyd interrupted. “You really shouldn’t be talking about your case at all, remember?” 
 
“Can I just say I didn’t do it?” 
 
“They all know that.” 
 
“I just want to say it.” 
 
“I knew your dick would get you in big trouble some day, Brian,” Mel observed and he glared at 
her. 
 
“My dick’s been getting me in trouble for years, Mel.” 
 
“Never thought it would lead to murder. Talk about your killer cock.” 
 
“Brian had nothing to do with that,” Boyd felt a sudden flash of anger. Brian told him Melanie had 
a way of making one want to strangle her, and he could see it. “I think we should talk about 
something else. He has privilege issues.” 
 
“It’s very convenient to have live-in legal counsel. If anyone needs that in a partner, it’s you, 
Brian.” 
 
He narrowed his eyes at her as he replied, “At least my live-in legal counsel is competent. Poor 
Lindsay gets all the down side of living with a lawyer and none of the bennies.” 
 
“Brian!” Lindsay whined, but he could see Boyd swallow a laugh and that made him smile.  
 
“You are still as big an asshole as you ever were,” Melanie observed and Brian shrugged. 
 
“Nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.” 
 
Debbie plucked her granddaughter off of her son’s lap and slung her onto an ample hip as she 
beamed at them and said, “Isn’t this wonderful? Just like old times!” 
 
Boyd glanced at Brian as if to say, ‘this is what it’s always like?’ Reading his expression, Brian 
nodded. This was how it always was. Both Ben and Rodney gave Boyd a look that confirmed being 
thrust into this group was a real challenge.  
 
At that moment, the door opened and Daphne came in, all smiles and bubbles, her dark auburn 
hair framing her pretty face in curls, an effect only Carl, among the males in the room, fully 
appreciated. “Babies!” she squealed, rushing over to pat Jenny Rebecca’s plump thigh before she 
leaned over to plant a kiss on Gus’s head. Brian saw none of that. Brian’s gaze was fixed on 
Justin.  
 
Justin, too, saw no one else in the room as he focused on his former lover. Brian stood up, 
crossed over, and pulled Justin into a tight embrace that threw the room into dead silence. Justin 
closed his eyes, spreading his hands on Brian’s back as he held onto him for a long, intense 
moment. Boyd looked away, forcing his face to reflect no reaction, despite what he was feeling 
inside. Everyone was looking from the former lovers to the new love and back again.  
 
Brian finally let him go, spreading his hand on his cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re here. Been a 
long time.” 
 
Justin was choked up and momentarily unable to speak. Seeing Brian again, after all he’d been 
through, feeling his body, inhaling his scent, he was on emotional overload. “Missed you, “ he 
finally croaked and Brian smiled. 
 
“You too.” 
 
Boyd wanted to die at that moment. He knew it was an overreaction, a bit of jealous ire, a small 
part of his ego, his heart disallowing Brian this moment of reunion with a man who once shared 
his life. He bit into the underside of his lower lip to retain calm and then Brian returned to his 
side. When he reached for his hand, Boyd delicately avoided his touch and let his hand move to 
his own knee. He wasn’t ready to welcome Brian back. He would be, but he needed a minute. 
Brian, who ran on instinct and visceral response, immediately picked up on Boyd’s cool 
withdrawal and felt something rise in him that was akin to panic. Boyd didn’t reject, that wasn’t 
his style. What rift had Brian opened between them? How bad was it? Could he fix it? Now? 
Immediately? He firmly placed his hand over Boyd’s and pressed down to assert his primacy. He 
wasn’t letting Boyd pull away without making a scene of it and he knew how Boyd was about 
scenes.  
 
Boyd’s face grew red, but he didn’t make a scene, as Brian knew he wouldn’t. He waited a beat 
and then stood, asking Debbie, “Where’s the restroom?” Brian recognized a bolt, and he stood up, 
too. He grabbed his lover’s wrist as he said,  
 
“I’ll show you.” 
 
“I’m popping the corn,” Emmett leaned over and whispered to Ted. “You get the Cokes. The 
show’s on.” 
 
“Was it something I said?” Justin asked with a wry smile as Daphne rolled her eyes at him. 
Debbie said,  
 
“You. Sunshine. Kitchen. Help me get this shit on the table,” she handed off her granddaughter to 
Daphne and Justin reluctantly obeyed her command. In the kitchen, Debbie thrust the oven mitts 
at him and said, “Get the lasagna out, it needs to sit and settle before we cut it. I’ll toss the salad 
and don’t even smirk at me, I know what that means in fag speak.” 
 
“Are you mad about something?” 
 
“No, honey, I’m not mad, but please don’t turn this evening into a pissing match between the 
former and the present. For one thing, Brian seems really fragile to me. For another, it’s not good 
for any of you.” 
 
“All I did was walk into the house. He hugged me, not the other way around.” 
 
“I’m not blaming you, I’m just saying…” she glanced up the stairs and sighed. “Wonder how long 
they’ll be?” 
 
“Knowing Brian, could be awhile,” he said with a grin and she poured herself another glass of 
Chianti, wondering what the fuck she was thinking in having this party for a bunch of drama 
queens and their even more dramatic lovers. 
 
***************** 
 
In the bathroom, Boyd said, “I can do this all by myself, Brian. I learned how a few years ago.”  
 
Brian held tightly to his lover’s shoulders as he said, “What is your fucking problem?” 
 
Boyd flared, but before he could speak, he let it go. “I’m sorry.” 
 
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. What? I’m not supposed to hug him?” 
 
Boyd shrugged free of him. “Look, it was small of me, I admit it, but I’m human, Brian. I love you 
very much. It was more than just a hug. There was a lot of emotion behind it and yes, I got 
jealous. What does that make me besides human? I’m sorry if I’m capable of a petty emotion. I’m 
not the perfect creation you obviously want me to be.” 
 
Brian stared at him and then smiled. “You’re not?” 
 
“No, and don’t give me that cheesy, sexy lounge lizard routine of yours. I’m not in the mood for 
it.” 
 
“Yes, you are. You always are. You love my cheesy, sexy lounge lizard routine.” 
 
Boyd smiled at him. It was impossible to stay mad at this man. “Fuck you.” 
 
“You think you’re man enough to do it?” 
 
“I know I’m man enough to do it,” Boyd responded. Brian reached down and unbuckled his belt 
and opened his fly. As he held his arms out to his sides, his pants slipped to his ankles.  
 
“Prove it.” 
 
“What? Here? Now? You want me to top you with all your friends waiting downstairs for us?” 
 
“Can’t perform under stress?” Brian teased and Boyd glared at him.  
 
“You are so asking for it, Kinney.” 
 
Brian hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and shimmied them over his hips to 
pool with his trousers. Boyd took his required stash of condoms from his pocket and laid them on 
the edge of the sink as he dropped his own trousers and lunged at Brian, kissing him on the 
mouth and forcing his lips apart with his tongue. Brian felt the cold tile of the wall against his bare 
ass countered by Boyd’s hot cock against his belly. Within a minute, they were both rock hard 
and Brian held onto the sink rim, staring at his own reflection in the mirror and at Boyd’s 
handsome face behind his as Boyd lubed him with KY they found in the medicine cabinet and then 
penetrated in two smooth strokes.  
 
Brian moaned as the pain stung deep within his rectum, but he forced himself to relax and the 
pleasure intensified when Boyd reached around and began stroking his cock. Boyd fucked him for 
a minute and then withdrew. Brian looked over his shoulder, questioning, and Boyd went over to 
the toilet, sitting down and motioning for Brian to join him. “I want to see your face when my 
cock is up your ass,” Boyd said gruffly and Brian smiled and walked over to him, bracing his heels 
against the tank of the toilet as he straddled Boyd’s erection and guided it back where it 
belonged. He rested his palms on Boyd’s knees for leverage, pushing back and forth with his hips 
as Boyd thrust upwards and down again, then back up and then down.  
 
The knickknacks and bottles holding colored water as a decorative touch, that apparently lived on 
top of the tank, clattered to the tile floor and shattered. The old plumbing fixture groaned under 
their combined weight and frantic thrusting. Each bang caused the pipe fittings to squeal like an 
injured cat. As Boyd felt his body building towards a shattering orgasm, he threw a hand over the 
towel rack, pulling down the plastic hangers where some clothes were drip drying, which in turn 
knocked a soap dish off the edge of the tub, which caused the bottles of shampoo and conditioner 
to tip and roll into the tub with a heavy thump.  
 
“Brian!” Boyd cried out as he came with a series of spastic shudders. “Brian!” It sounded like a 
plea as much as an expression of extreme pleasure. Brian cut loose, blowing his load against 
Boyd’s abdomen and then collapsing forward, his forehead resting against Boyd’s. They sat that 
way for a minute, and then Brian reluctantly stood up, careful to avoid the broken glass. They 
exchanged a stare before they began to laugh as they wondered how they would explain their 
way out of this one. 

Current Mood:  energetic









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