Change comes to all of us. For Theo Bascopolis, the first time is when he's fifteen. He finds his life falling apart when his father discovers Theo is gay and orders him to become straight or leave. Having no choice, in spite of what his father might think, Theo leaves. But where can a fifteen-year-old go? Especially when it starts to rain. He thinks things are looking up when he meets a striking man named Franky, who seems very attracted to him. However, once again Theo's life changes when he learns all Franky wants is for him to hustle. And so Theo becomes the rent boy Sweetcheeks. However, Franky underestimates Sweetcheeks, and the results of the ensuing fight sees Sweetcheeks fleeing to Washington DC, where he crosses paths with a group of rent boys who take him in. Finally Sweetcheeks has a family, a home, and an additional source of income in the form of apartments they're able to rent out. His life changes again a few years later when a mysterious tenant by the name of Mark Vincent becomes the reason behind the assault on one of Sweetcheeks's boys. Vincent visits the boy in the hospital, bringing with him his equally enigmatic trainee, William Matheson. The instant attraction blindsides Sweetcheeks. In spite of knowing love isn't for rent boys, he hopes Matheson can see beyond the body he's offered to so many. But Matheson has secrets of his own. Can Sweetcheeks overcome his insecurities enough to believe in the quiet man who's come into his life? Can Matheson keep his actual occupation a secret without it jeopardizing their budding relationship?

Pick Up the Pieces

He chewed on his lip, then nodded and followed me into the men’s room.


Afterward, it took a few minutes before his eyes seemed to regain their focus. “Wow! That’s one amazing way you have of paying a body back.”


“My pleasure, Shane.” I smiled at him.


He blinked again. “Come on. I’ll buy you dinner.”


“Thanks.” I wasn’t too proud to accept a last meal from him. I was flat broke, and I wasn’tsure when I’d be able to eat again. I went to the sink to wash my hands.


“Why don’t you tell me what really happened in Florida?”


I guessed I wasn’t as good a liar as I’d thought.


“I…uh…I had a fight with my boyfriend.” That sounds a lot better than, “This guy I knew tried to sell me.”


I got it now. Franky had never been my boyfriend; he was my pimp. We hadn’t been making love—he’d been teaching me the tricks of the trade. He didn’t love me or need me or care about me. He only cared about money and drugs and sex.


Chapter 8