“I get bored there sometimes.” Courtland tipped his head to one side coquettishly. “I like all kinds of people.”
The man drank his beer, leaning his back against the wall to look around. “When does it get livelier?”
“Friday and Saturday. I haven’t seen you in here before, or anywhere, actually.”
“Last time I was in Boston, you were probably tucked up in bed at this hour.”
“When was that?” Courtland asked.
“About five years ago,” the man said.
“So why are you here now?” He smiled, hoping to draw the man in. He was handsome and masculine, and Court wanted a change from his usual young-and-sweet type.
The man looked down into his beer and then took a long pull on it. “My father died. I came back for the funeral, but I missed it.”
“Oh God. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” How could he redeem himself after that news?
“At least I can visit my family.”
“That’s true.” The man’s hands were big, strong-looking, and sun browned. Courtland’s cock tingled as he looked at them. “Let’s go out into the yard, and I’ll suck your cock. Or we could go to my place. I rented some rooms so I wouldn’t always have to live with my parents.”
The man began to laugh, making his eyes twinkly and making Courtland laugh in response. “I already told you, boy, I don’t want sex.”
“Men always want sex. I do.”
“You’re a boy.”
“No, I’m twenty-one.” The man laughed again. “All right, I’m nineteen. My name’s Court.” Court sounded tougher than Courtland, though he doubted he could look tough even if he attempted to grow a beard or cut his hair as short as this man’s. “What’s yours?”
“Luke.”
“A friend of mine had a Luke.”
“Did he.” The man rose rather unsteadily. “I’m going home.”
“Come into the yard first. If I can’t get you standing to attention, then no one can.” He laughed loudly at his own joke, but it took the man a little longer, being as drunk as he was. When he joined in, his laughter was rich and infectious. Courtland grabbed his arm and led him across the tavern and out through a back door into a paved yard with a high wall around it. Other men were already there, coupling in the darkness. Though the shadows of the wall and the dim moon gave them privacy, grunts and panting told their stories.
With both hands on Luke’s chest, he pushed him against the wall. Courtland found Luke’s trouser buttons and undid them. He reached inside the crotch to pull out the man’s thick cock and heavy balls. For several minutes he played with them, getting not the smallest reaction. “What’s the matter? Don’t you fancy me?” Courtland kissed him on his full, firm lips.
“No, I don’t think I do,” Luke mumbled. “I told you I wasn’t looking for sex. I only came out for a few beers. I’m a bit drunk.”
“You’d have to be drunk to go with Courtland Choate. There’ve been so many there before you.” The voice came from out of the darkness, making the other men laugh.
“I like men. What’s wrong with that?” Courtland called out.
“What did he call you?” Luke asked.
“I told you, my name’s Court. Do you want me to suck your cock?”
Luke grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive flannel jacket just as he was about to kneel on the damp paving stones. “Your full name?”
“Courtland Choate, but I prefer Court—”
“Good God!” Luke cut him off. He pushed Courtland away and fastened his trousers.
“What’s the matter? What did I do?”
“I’m leaving.” The man hurried out through the gate in the wall.
“What the hell did I do?”
“Maybe he knew he was your third tonight,” one of the men said.
“Oh, shut up!” Courtland went back into the bar. The place had lost what luster it might have had, and he wandered out into the street. It wasn’t until later when he was in bed in his expensive rented rooms that he had an epiphany.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“There’s a letter for you, Samuel. Hand delivered.” Mr. Porter-Smith looked the envelope over before passing it to Sam. “There is no return address, so I must trust you that it is not from that man.”
Sam looked at the envelope. “That’s Courtland Choate’s handwriting.”
“I really do not want you to see that boy again either. He is very effeminate.” His father’s curled upper lip and a slight shudder showed his distaste. “He’s a bad influence. His parents should have curbed his behavior long ago.”
“Father, Courtland is harmless. His worst sin is fecklessness.” Sam took the silver letter opener, slit the envelope, and pulled out a folded note.
Dear Sammy,
I have to tell you that last night, at the Cavalier Tavern on Washington Street, I met a man whom I am quite certain is your Luke Chandler. He told me only his first name, but your description fits the man to a T. Very handsome, I have to say! He said he had come to Boston because his father had died, but he missed the funeral. I admit I tried to have a go with him before I realized he was your Luke. Anyway, you’ll be glad to know he turned me down.
I wish I could see you.
All my love,
Court xxx
Sam could scarcely keep his hands from shaking, he was so excited. Luke was in Boston! He had to find him without a moment to lose. Folding the letter, he rose. “I am going out. Please excuse me.”
“I dismissed Jeffers last evening. I hope you can be trusted to behave yourself,” his father said.
“Thank you, Father,” Sam said. “I appreciate that.”
“Are you going to meet Choate?”
He wasn’t going to lie anymore, not even to mollify his parents. “No, I’m not, actually, not right now. But you need not fear me seeing him. I’ve already told you, it’s Luke Chandler I love.”
“You will not speak that way in front of your mother!”
“Then I shall move out if you wish. Father, you might as well give up trying to control me. In less than eighteen months I will be old enough to live my own life, and I assure you, I will. Luke is in Boston, and I am going to see him.”
Rising to his feet, his father said, “I had the solicitors send him a letter warning him he would be arrested and charges pursued against him if he comes near you again.”
“You did what?” Sam was outraged. “He did nothing wrong. You have already had the poor man arrested and thrown in jail. There are no witnesses against us, and if he is charged with sodomy, then I must be charged too.”
Throwing down her napkin, his mother got to her feet and ran from the room.
“How could you talk like that in front of your mother?” his father shouted.
As calmly as he could, Sam said, “Morley saw nothing but Luke and I kissing. No charge would stand unless someone lied in court, and I don’t believe even you would go that far, Father, not even to stop me from following my natural inclinations. I am sorry you are disappointed in me, but I have to live my own life. You might as well let me start now.”
“Then go, Samuel.” His father seemed calmer now, resolved. “You have your own money, so you are free to leave this house. The only thing I ask is that you not disgrace the family.”
“Of course I would never disgrace my family. Had you left Luke and I alone, none of this debacle over the past couple of months would have happened.” He pushed his chair under the table. “I’m going to find Luke to ask him if he will forgive me and have me back.”
In the entrance hall he sent a footman for his hat and coat and was quickly outside in the bright, crisp morning, walking swiftly until he saw a cab. “Jamaica Plain,” he said to the driver. “I am looking for a butcher shop that I assume bears the name of Chandler. You can ask someone on the street where exactly it is when we get there.”
The traffic was heavy, and at a particularly busy intersection, the horse started, and it took the driver several minutes to calm it, but they reached Jamaica Plain in good time. The streets were much narrower and dirtier than Beacon Hill, and noisier.
This is where Luke grew up, Sam thought, taking in the sounds and smells of the busy commercial streets. This place is what made him the hardworking, good man I fell in love with.
The driver stopped twice to ask directions before they finally came to a halt outside a butcher shop. On the glass window in curling letters was painted,
Chandler and Sons, Quality Butcher
. Sam got out and stood for a moment looking at the shop.
“That must be it, sir. Will I wait for you?”
“No, thank you.” Sam paid the man.
Nervous to go in, he stood out on the pavement, grossly out of place in his expensive, beautifully tailored clothes. Perhaps he should have dressed down, but no. It was time to be completely honest. Still, his belly was in knots when he opened the door and walked in.
The smell of bloody sawdust on the floor and raw meat behind the glass counter hit his nostrils. He had never before entered a butcher shop and had no idea what to expect.
A middle-aged woman wearing a bloodstained apron looked at him from behind the counter, clearly surprised at the sight of a gentleman so far from his own neighborhood. “May I help you, sir?” she asked politely.
“I’m looking for Luke. Are you his mother?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and Sam saw that they were Luke’s eyes, so blue and beautiful. “Yes, I am. He just went into the back room to put the kettle on. I fancied a cup of tea. Would you like to go through?”
“If I may.”
Mrs. Chandler indicated the door behind the counter and lifted the hinged end for him to pass through. Removing his hat, Sam thanked her and walked through into a dim, narrow passage. The first door he passed led to a small but very tidy and pretty sitting room with a cozy fire burning in the narrow grate. Another few steps took him to a kitchen that doubled as a dining room. It was as clean, bright, and cozy as the sitting room.
With his back to him, Luke was putting the kettle onto the stove. Scarcely daring to speak, Sam looked at Luke’s strong back. He wanted to sneak up behind him and grab him as he had done so many times at the claim, making Luke swat him and laugh. Instead he waited for him to turn around.
The look on Luke’s face when their eyes met went from shock, to that melting look he gave Sam after they had made love, to anger—and there it rested. Looking Sam up and down, he said, “What are you doing here?”
“Courtland told me you were in Boston. I hear you met him in a tavern.”
Luke laughed, but it was not an amused laugh. It was ugly. “Is that how you really talk? Was it hard to disguise your accent the whole time you were with me, listening to my common Boston accent?” He exaggerated the first vowel in
Boston
, dragging it out. “You managed it really well.” He sneered. “Lying little fuck.”
Remaining calm, even though he wanted to throw himself at Luke, Sam said, “It was hard. I’m sorry I lied to you. No more lies. This is who I am, Luke.”
“Get out,” Luke said.
“Did you get my letters?”
“I got them. They’re sitting on the table in the shanty. But thanks for the shaving kit. It was something I could actually use.”
“Did you read them, my letters?”
“No, I was too busy with my work, trying to make up for ten goddamned days in a jail cell in Volga, lying on the floor because the bed had lice.” Luke’s voice rose steadily as he spoke.
Stay calm
, Sam reminded himself.
He has every right to be angry
. “Luke, you got arrested because of me, and I’m sorry. If I could change it all, I would, but I can’t. Please sit down and talk to me. Please.”
“I want you out of here.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” he said quietly.
“Are you.” Luke’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he took a step closer. “You’d better leave before I come too close to you with pig’s blood all over my apron. I’m an ordinary workingman, remember.”
Sam sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t care. “I don’t give a damn about the pig’s blood. I want you. I love you.”
Luke crossed the last few paces between them, put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and shoved him out of the room. “There’s the back door. Leave!”
When Sam didn’t obey, Luke grabbed him by the arm and led him with force out into the paved backyard. “Get out of my home and stay out of my life!”
“Luke, I love you. I want what we had. I want it back.”
“It’s too late.”
“Not if you’ll let me explain.” Sam fumbled in his pocket for Courtland’s card, which had the address of his rooms printed on it. “I’ll be at this address for the rest of the day. Please come.”
Luke slapped the card out of his hand. “Get back to Beacon Hill where you belong.”
The door slammed in his face, and he stood alone in the backyard of the butcher’s shop.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shaking with anger, Luke stood for half a minute to compose himself. Only the whistle of the kettle made him turn back to the kitchen, and when he did, he saw his mother standing in the passage looking at him.
“Who is he?” she asked, confusion marring her usually smiling face. Luke walked past her into the kitchen to lift the kettle from the stove. “Luke, who was that young man?”
Pouring the water into the teapot, he spoke without looking at her. “Ma, I’ve never lied to you, so don’t make me do it now.”
She followed him into the kitchen. “Why would you lie?”
“You don’t want to hear the truth, and I don’t want to tell you the truth, so let’s leave it at that.” A bell sounded from the shop as the door opened. “There’s a customer. I’ll bring your tea through in a minute.”
For a long moment she stood there until Luke was forced to look at her. “I’m not stupid, Luke,” was all she said.
When she was gone, he sat down at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Could it get any worse? Sam knew he was in Boston, and God knew what his mother had heard.
When the tea was ready, he carried it through to the shop for her. The customer was just leaving when he handed her the mug. She wrapped both hands around it and blew on the hot tea. After taking a sip, she said “That’s a nice cup of tea. Your hands get cold handling meat.” She looked out of the front window, then faced him. “Luke, is that man why you’re not married? I don’t mean just him.”