Making It Personal by Wells, C. (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📗

opened up wounds he’d thought long since healed, making everything fresh and raw once more. Blake said nothing but Will could hear his breathing, steadier now. Will came to a decision. He switched the phone to speaker phone, cuddled the pillow tighter and began to speak.

“When I was fifteen, I made a huge mistake. I came out to my parents. If I’d known how they would react, I would have kept my mouth shut.” He closed his eyes. The pain never left him.

“They took it badly?”

“They threw me out.” He couldn’t miss Blake’s sharp intake of breath. Will clamped down on the surge of grief which flowed through him. “So there I was, homeless, no relatives to speak of. I quit going to school—I mean, what was the point?—and I found myself living on the streets, faced with the task of surviving.”

“You really were a rent boy?”

Will nodded, until he remembered that Blake couldn’t see him. “Yes. I used to hang out by the adult bookstore. It wasn’t that difficult to get picked up there, especially looking as young as I did.” His chest tightened as he remembered. No, there’d been no shortage of men eager to fuck an underage boy. He shivered. “I used to try to find guys who’d take me home for the night. And if that wasn’t possible, I used to sleep in an abandoned warehouse on the docks. Well, me and a few other derelicts.”

“Were… were you safe?”

Will could have kissed the man for his concern. “Always. No condom, no fuck. Not even a blow-job.” He still couldn’t believe he was telling Blake all this. The strange thing was it felt right to share it with him.

“How long did you live like that?”

Will shivered. “For about a year. By then I’d found a shelter for homeless gay kids, run by this older guy, Richard.” An iron band tightened around his chest. “Richard’s son was gay, but he ran away from home when Richard reacted badly to his coming out. Richard never saw him again.” Will could still hear Richard sobbing, late into the night in his room, his sorrow and guilt for what he’d done never leaving him. “He started up the shelter for kids who were in the same situation.”

“And then you came along.” Will could hear the warmth in Blake’s voice.

“Richard said once that he could always spot potential. I think a lot of it was that I reminded him of his son.” Will had seen the photos. He and Philip could have been twins. “Anyway, Richard took me in, gave me a home.” For which Will would forever be grateful. He’d been suspicious at first—come on, an older guy taking in a sixteen year old rent boy—but Richard had soon allayed his fears. He’d been horrified to hear Will’s story, and had wanted to make things better for him. Will had come to care deeply for him.

“You moved in with him?”

“Yep. His spare room became my room. He left Philip’s room exactly as it was. I guess he always hoped Philip would return one day.” His heart stuttered briefly. Maybe things might have been different then. There was no doubt losing his son took its toll on Richard’s health. “Richard gave me a roof over my head and fed and clothed me. He sent me to a school to take my exams. I’d always been a bright kid, and boy, was I thankful for that. I had some serious catching-up to do.” Encouraged by Will’s academic success, Richard had encouraged him to get a degree, and had offered to pay for his studies, but there was no way Will would accept that. He’d gone down the route of student loans instead, which wasn’t nearly enough, so he’d got a job working in a fast food restaurant. He wanted to pay Richard back in some way, but the older man was bloody stubborn.

“I’ll bet Richard was really proud of you.”

Will stifled a sob. “Two years into my degree, Richard died of a heart attack. He never got to see me graduate.” It was no use. The tears started to flow.

“Will, it’s okay.” Blake spoke softly. “Let it out, babe.”

Will caught his breath at the endearment. It felt good. No, it felt better than good.

“I’m okay,” he said shakily. He wiped his tears on the sheet and took a breath. “So suddenly I was homeless again. I moved into student accommodation, but that meant more expense. I needed more money to live on, so I made the decision—I went back to being a rent boy.” Will didn’t want to think about those years. Life got scary. “When I graduated, I got a job with Willetts, a small publishing house. It was a fair salary, I suppose, but it barely made a dent in my debts. Until one night about five months ago, when this guy who picked me up got talking about J’s. He thought I’d be perfect for them. And the rest, you know.”

Will listened to Blake breathing steadily. “My God, Will, what a story. Never mind that—what a book! You’re an exceptional writer.” Will glowed at these words. “Let me publish it.”

Will became still. He hadn’t shown Blake the book for that reason. And now he couldn’t believe Blake’s reaction. He was kidding—right? “Are you serious?” The words crept out.

“Of course I’m serious!” Will could hear the note of excitement in Blake’s voice. “It’ll be a hit, mark my words.” There was a pause. “You could dedicate it to Richard’s memory. And you might also consider donating some of your royalties to that shelter where you go once a week. I’m sure they’d appreciate any extra funding.”

Will loved that. What he loved even more was that Blake had come up with the idea in the first place. A quick glance at the clock shocked him. It was already gone two.

“I think we both need to sleep.” He chuckled. “We can discuss this in the morning.”

“Will, how can you expect me to sleep