The Loner

By Patricia A. Gray

An abusive childhood has forged Nathan Kirkland into the man he has become-a hard-working, strong-minded, self-made millionaire. Add to that his extraordinary good looks, and he appears to have it all. There's just one problem: to blunt the pain of his past, Nathan has walled himself into isolation, both emotional and physical. Social interactions unnerve this intentional loner, and Nathan is convinced that the only way to avoid hurt is to be the one doing the hurting.

While many around him fall for his chameleon-like personalities, there are some who know the destruction of which Nathan is capable and are determined to bring it to light. Threatened, Nathan becomes merciless in his quest for revenge and frantic in his struggle to maintain the facade of his life. But when confronted with an unattainable woman, Nathan can no longer hide behind his pretense of perfection, and his long-sequestered vulnerability unfolds. His all-too-flawless world turns upside down, opening emotions Nathan thought he'd buried long ago and leading to chilling consequences.

The Loner is a tightly woven tale of a man who is not what he seems to be and a fascinating probe into the psyche of a person who discovers the inevitable price of fleeing the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 16, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595912742

Patricia A. Gray

Patricia A. Gray is the author of thirteen novels including The Loner, Ridder of Vermin, and The Seared One. A graduate of the University of Alabama, she lives in Southern California with her husband, daughter, and Chocolate Lab, Reddington.

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Copyright © 2007 by Patricia A. Gray

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

To my parents

I know you’re watching

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To Melinda, Sandy, Elizabeth, Karen, and Tawny, my reviewers: thanks for your differences in opinions.

To Viviane and Geneen, who listened to all my ideas: thank you.

To Beth: thanks for all that life experience which makes great reference.

To Yara: gracias for all the help with the Spanish.

To Cathy: thanks for your views as a fellow writer.

To Robin: you’re an awesome listener with great thoughts. Thank you.

To my sister, Sue: thanks for taking up where Mom and Dad left off.

To Laura, my best friend: you’ve always been there for me. Thank you for that.

To my husband, Carlos: thanks for your support, patience and understanding.

Finally, to Josie, my daughter: thank you for allowing me mommy time. I love

you and Papi.

Never forget to dream.

C H A P T E R 1

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Mama, you’re hurting me! the little boy cried out as his mother held his arm tightly.

Knock off yer whinin’! She threw him against the wall of the small bedroom and he fell, ending up on his behind. When he saw the look in her eyes, he immediately scrambled to his feet and told himself not to cry. She always got madder if he looked like he was close to tears, so he’d learned how to hold them in early on.

Get out, damn you! I tol’ you before you ain’t never to come in my bedroom, ya hear me?

Yes, Mama, he said, rubbing his arm where she’d had her hand, and walking out of the room, sad and scared at the same time. He looked back briefly, just in time to see her slam the door behind him, and he only wiped his eyes with the back ofhis hand quickly, and ran into his small room, closing the door. Maybe if he stayed by himself long enough, she’d start to miss him ...

Nathan stared at the painting in the art book he held. The grotesque image of a deranged man with haunted eyes and long straggly white hair looked back at him. He focused on the decrepit body of the man who was holding a small headless body, a maniacal look coming over him as he ate his own child. Nathan finally looked away from the disturbing painting long enough to read the title and artist’s name: Saturn Devouring one of his Children, by Francisco Goya y Lucientes. He returned his attention to the painting as if studying it, and finally nodded to himself. He liked it. Only if he had painted it, he would have made Saturn a woman. He glared suddenly, remembering his mother and closed the book to lean back in the uncomfortable straight chair. The bitch.

As he rose to find some relaxation which would take him to a better place, he shuffled through some classical music CD’s, looking for his favorite composer. He smiled slightly, reaching for a compilation and putting on the headphones, closing his eyes and envisioning Ludwig van Beethoven himself at the keyboard making the haunting melodies come to life as only he could. Moonlight Sonata was Nathan’s favorite Beethoven piece, despite its general popularity and mainstream acceptance. He felt almost a kinship with the man who gave so much of his soul through his music despite the difficulties he faced in his personal life. Nathan had even adopted Van as his middle name, not because it sounded good to say his name all together, Nathan Van Kirkland, but because it was a tribute to a man he believed felt much the same way as he about life in general.

Classical music had always been a great escape for Nathan. While growing up in his hometown of Pensacola, Florida, he remembered the first time he had ever heard the music ...

Kirkland! Now’s our chance! a voice whispered.

Nathan followed his friend out of the classroom as soon as the teacher had turned her back on the seventh grade students. They ran towards the playground and to freedom but Nathan stopped suddenly. A strange, but pleasant noise was coming from the band room.

Kirkland! His friend ran back to grab him. What’re ya doin’? The princi-pal’ll have our asses! C’mon!

Wait! Nathan hissed. Listen to that. He stopped talking long enough to hear the violins and piano make a relaxing yet complicated sound. He had never heard music like that before.

His friend glared. Yeah, it sounds like shit. C’mon!

Nathan had always hated that kid after he called the most beautiful music ever written, shit. As he stretched his neck back, trying to find comfort in the unyielding chair, he closed his eyes, thinking of the many fights he had in his young life when he stood up for things he believed were important. And despite his growing good looks and attention from girls, he never considered them important enough to spend time with or to value. After all, his mother had proven herself worthy of little respect from him; how could any other female prove to be any different? If his own mother could hurt him like she did, what horrible things could total strangers do to him?

Growing up poor in a town where the naval air station made men out of boys and heroes out of men was hard for Nathan, and he learned early on that not fitting in physically or mentally could be detrimental. His dark, soulful looks seemed to turn on women and repel men, and despite a life of poverty, he still managed to grow an air of conceit which angered most of the people with whom he came into contact.

Once he turned fourteen, he knew he would never amount to anything continuing down the destructive cycle his life had become; he was stealing, fighting, and living with an alcoholic, abusive mother who invited men into her life on a daily basis. He was not welcome in her home, nor did he seem welcome anywhere he went. Never fitting in and never giving in made him realize that running away was his only option.

Nathan didn’t have any skills when he left the only home he’d known, but he soon found that he was good at carpentry and landed his first job as an apprentice to a general contractor. He learned a lot, and the opportunity had brought back memories of his first experience with wood ...

Mr. Kirkland, did you make this?

Nathan looked down at the small wooden structure he had put together in junior high wood shop. Their project was to build a bird house, but he had turned his into a mansion, determining that if he were a bird, free to come and go, then he would pick the best looking perch he could find. After all, his own nest at home was so dark and uninviting; no bird would ever choose to live in an environment like that. As he looked back up at the large male teacher standing before him, he contemplated his next words carefully, unsure of the genuineness of the question.

Yes, sir. He watched Mr. Leavenworth’s face carefully. He was tall and well-built, and Nathan remembered hearing some of the female teachers whisper about their crushes on him.

By yourself?

Of course he’d done it by himself. Who the hell else was going to help him? He had no father and his mother rarely pulled herself out of bed long enough to piss. Yes, sir, he repeated, his large dark eyes, serious.

Mr. Leavenworth picked up the bird house and examined it carefully, turning it in his massive hands, running his thick fingers around the edges of the cut wood, noting the additional ornamental touches the boy had added. He looked back at Nathan. This is extraordinary.

For a moment, Nathan wondered if he was just fucking with him. After all, no one had ever used such a fancy word to describe anything he had ever done. Usually, he was the troublemaker, or the juvenile delinquent the school psychologist had branded him, or his favorite, that loner kid he had heard one ofhis neighbors call him. But never had he ever heard anything positive.

Thank you, sir, he said softly, truly appreciating the nice words.

Suddenly, the teacher grabbed Nathan’s hands and held them in his, looking at the boy’s growing hands, noting the long fingers. You have amazing hands. I think you have a future with wood, Mr. Kirkland. With that, he gave him back his hands, and walked away to check the other students’ work.

Nathan looked at his own hands and then turned when he heard a snicker behind him.

"You have amazing hands," a fat kid mimicked, making a face and causing the other students around them to laugh.

Nathan only glared, staring into the kid’s pudgy face and small peepholes for eyes. After school that day, he had found him at his locker and beat the shit out of him. For that, Nathan had received more detention and a warning of possible expulsion. But he hadn’t cared. That day in wood class had given him hope and a new outlook for the future.

When he began working, Nathan was determined to have the same good things in life which he had seen for others. The few things he had ever stolen in his life never felt like they were really his, and the thrill of stealing usually outweighed the value of what was stolen. The first paycheck he ever earned changed his attitude about working and he realized that with hard work came reward. And he decided that if he worked hard enough, persevered and saved every spare bit of change he could, some day, he too, might relish in the good life of which he so desperately wanted a taste .

What kind of car is that? Nathan asked his friend as they walked along the downtown streets of Pensacola one damp Sunday morning.

Shit, man, that’s a Porsche.

Porsche? Nathan smiled, watching the black vehicle round the corner and squeal off. It’s nice. Real nice.

Dream on, Nathan. Those ain’t cheap.

So? Who’s to say I can’t have one some day?

His friend laughed sarcastically, slapping Nathan on the back. Yer so full a shit. The only way yer gonna git one a those is by stealin’ it. Don’t be such a fuckin’ dreamer. He continued laughing and walking on, leaving Nathan standing still, watching where the car had just been, and not moving even when he felt the rain drops start falling from the darkening sky .

Nathan had always wished he’d graduated from high school so he could come back to his class reunion, drive up in his Porsche and flash his millions in that kid’s face.

Once he made it out of Pensacola, Nathan decided he wanted out of the Southeast all together. He had always dreamed of traveling west after seeing travel books in the library when he’d have a chance to sneak over there. He never forgot his feelings when he first saw a picture of the desert .

Nathan stared at the travel magazine in his hands, glancing up at the clock nervously. He knew they’d be closing soon, and then, where would he go? He couldn’t go back home; his mother was entertaining again. He had to stay out long enough until that was over. Once the library closed, he had nowhere to go. He’d be damned if he’d try sleeping on the beach again. The last time he’d done that, he’d gotten beat up pretty bad by some drunken college kids.

As he thumbed through the pages trying to get his mind off of that evening’s lack of lodging, he stopped at a picture. Bringing it closer, he studied the image carefully. It was beautiful: a pink and orange sky, the clouds wispy and free, some still white, some darkening with the setting sun ... and the mountains! They were awesome; they were large and magnificent, as if they had so many secrets to tell from living millions of years watching in silence the world around them. Nathan stared at the desert landscape and wondered just where a place of solitude existed. Then he saw the caption: Sedona, Arizona.

He looked up at the clock nearing 6:00, and then back at the magazine. Arizona. That’s where he would go.

It had taken Nathan a couple of years to get as far west as he had hoped, and when he ended up in Phoenix, Arizona, he remembered his travel magazine and knew he had made it. That was when he met Charlie Flanders, who was only sixteen at the time, like him. He instantly felt comfortable with Charlie, despite concerns with previous friendships in Florida that had failed. Charlie seemed different from everyone else he had known, and he liked the fact that even though Charlie was kind of an unattractive kid, he seemed oblivious and still expected the best that life had to offer. That impressed Nathan.

Charlie had taken him to his house a few times after work and had introduced him to his mom. It had been such a pleasure at the time to be able to meet some-

one’s mother. Nathan remembered his own failed attempts at bringing home friends .

What the fuck are you doin’? You know I got business ta tend to. I don’t need yer little friends in here screwin’ things up!

Nathan looked back at two of the guys from school, and tried to smile. PMS, y’know. It really fucks with their minds, he added sarcastically, making his friends laugh as he looked back at his mother and glared.

Git outta here, Nate, she growled to her son. And take yer little thievin’ friends with you. With that, she turned her back on him and walked back to her bedroom.

Nathan only frowned.

Yer mom’s kinda mean, one ofhis friends commented, looking towards her bedroom.

But his other friend tried to smile sympathetically, knowing how embarrassed Nathan looked at that moment. She’s kinda pretty, though. Fer a mom.

But Nathan just glared. She’s ugly. Inside and out. He motioned for them to follow him to the front door. They both laughed when he pointed his middle finger towards her closed door .

When Nathan met Charlie’s mother for the first time, he was surprised that a guy who looked like Charlie had such a good-looking mom. Nathan remembered the feeling he had in his sixteen-year-old body as he shook hands with his best friend’s mother, and he knew he was getting hard as he held her hand. He was embarrassed and yet intrigued at the same time. It was almost as if Charlie’s mother knew he was into her, and yet she was okay with it. And despite his disgust with most girls, he never forgot how she made him feel just by shaking his hand that afternoon. She was almost regal, she was so attractive: with black hair (unlike Charlie’s orangey-red hair), green eyes, and eyebrows perfectly dark and well-groomed. Her skin was ivory, like a china doll he remembered his mom having. She looked like she belonged in a painting, and that in itself turned him onto her more than anything. She had classic beauty, like all those women he had seen in the art books he borrowed from the library. He could visualize her naked under a fruit tree with some underdeveloped nymphs next to her, making her breasts look that much more ample. He would never forget that day he shook her hand and felt that warmth go through him over and over, and Charlie, though he knew a lot about him, never knew Nathan had the hots for his mom.

Charlie and Nathan hung out a lot together and grew up in Phoenix before it became a booming city. At the time, it still held a lot of the appeal the desert had for Nathan, and it allowed him to experience a freedom he had never felt in his dirty little hometown with all of its bad memories. By the time they were both eighteen, Charlie began to wonder if Nathan would ever stop working so hard, long enough to enjoy the company of a woman. One day he asked him.

Nathan looked at him questioningly. What do you mean by that?

Charlie paused before he swung the hammer. ’Cause, shit, Nathan, you’re gonna be eighteen in a few days. And I don’t think you’ve ever done a girl yet.

Nathan considered lying, but he decided against it. After all, Charlie was as close to his best friend as he would ever get, and why couldn’t he tell him the truth? So what if I haven’t? was all he answered.

It’s weird, that’s all. Why haven’t ya?

Why should I?

Charlie got a strange look on his face, and he wiped the sweat off his freckled brow. Nathan, I’ve known you for two years, now, and I thought you were into women.

Nathan glared. What do you mean by that? he repeated.

I mean, I hope you ain’t been having sexy dreams about me and you, if you know what I mean.

Putting down his own hammer, Nathan stood up and walked over to his friend. If I was going to have sex with a man, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you. You aren’t my type.

Charlie’s eyes widened, and he stood up to face him. And what’s that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me after all this time you really are a faggot!

What if I was?

He shook his head in disbelief. I can’t believe after all we’ve been through, a guy like you digs guys.

What’s a guy like me?

You know, a good-looking guy.

A lotta fags are good-looking.

Charlie threw the hammer down, getting angry. Shit, you really are a homo!

Nathan looked around suddenly, making sure no one was in ear shot. He had enough problems in life without people thinking he did men for pleasure. But he’d also be damned if his best friend thought that just because he was picky about who his first would be, he assumed he was homosexual. Although many of the great artists in history had been .

"I’m not a homo as you say. He pulled on Charlie’s arm roughly. What the hell do you think after you’ve known me all this time? I’m not into guys."

Well, sometimes you don’t seem into women, either.

So I’m picky.

Charlie picked up his hammer again, and went back to his nails. Sometimes you freak me out, Kirkland. I think I know you, and then you throw me this curve ball.

It’s good to keep people guessing. Nathan still stood over his friend.

Look, I’ve screwed I don’t know how many girls, and I don’t think you’ve even done one. What does that say to you?

It tells me that most girls are shallow whores. Nathan folded his lean but muscular arms.

So? That’s good. You think if they weren’t, a guy that looks like me would’ve ever gotten laid the first time? Charlie glared, and then seeing the smile spread across his friend’s face, laughed.

After that day, Charlie never again brought up his best friend’s virginity. And Nathan had been careful not to tell him that if he was going to lose it, it would’ve been to his mother.

Charlie and Nathan remained good friends for many years after, and Nathan found that he was one of the few guys to stick by him, even when others parted ways with him. There was something about Nathan that seemed to bother certain men, and while he always claimed he was unaware of this trait of his, many men he knew swore he acted the way he did on purpose. One day, when they were twenty-two, Nathan asked Charlie why the other men they worked with never wanted to go out with them.

Charlie had hesitated to answer, and Nathan grew frustrated.

Don’t tell me they think I’m a faggot, too. Nathan sneered.

Oh, no, it’s nothing like that.

"Then you do know why they all don’t like me anymore."

I’m not sure they ever did.

They had stopped at a local bar after work one day, and Nathan walked inside the establishment ahead ofhis friend. He never looked back; he just walked confidently in, and headed towards a table.

Charlie glared slightly. That’s one reason.

Nathan looked over at him from across the table. What?

How you walked in ahead of me, like you were better.

What?

You have an air about you, and it pisses off some guys.

The waitress walked over to take their orders, and Nathan barely acknowledged her. Charlie, on the other hand, ogled her with great interest.

I’ll have a Guinness, Nathan said without looking into her face.

I’ll take a Bud. Charlie smiled warmly and winked. She smiled back and walked away. He watched her from behind. Then he looked back at Nathan.

Even your beer’s stuck up. What’s wrong with American beers?

Nathan cocked an eyebrow. What’s right with them? Why can’t I get what I want?

’Cause you always act like you’re better than anyone. That’s why you don’t have a lotta friends.

I don’t need a lot of friends. Nathan looked around the dark pub slowly. Why do you stay with me then?

’Cause you attract some fine women. And you’re so goddamned picky that I get what you don’t want, which is most of them.

Nathan shook his head. Bullshit. You like me.

No. No, I really don’t. Charlie paused just long enough to make his friend widen an eye. Finally, he smiled. Well, okay, I do.

The waitress came back with the beers and put them on the table. Charlie enjoyed watching her bend over just enough so he could see her ample cleavage. Nathan only looked away.

Here ya go, sweetie. Charlie dropped a five into her hand. She smiled and accepted it graciously as she walked away.

You waste your money, Nathan said, taking a sip of his beer.

Why? She works hard for the money. Ain’t you ever heard that song?

Still, why do you tip so much? It’s just two stinking beers.

Because I like to make people smile. He looked back at the waitress who was at another table. She looked back at him briefly and grinned. You see? I made her night.

Oh yeah, five fucking dollars. She must really be a whore if five dollars gets her going.

Charlie just shook his head. Man, why are you so against women? How can you be? Look at them! They’re just the best damn things ever invented.

Oh Christ, turn down the testosterone, Flanders.

Charlie guzzled his beer and signaled for another. So now, you see why guys don’t like you? You’re a negative shit and cocky at the same time.

Nathan only shook his head. I don’t care. I have a right to choose my company.

And I’m privileged. Charlie laughed. Damn, you need to cheer up, Nathan! Life’s too short to be so negative.

I’m not negative. Nathan took hold ofhis beer and slurped down more. He could feel himself relax slightly. I just don’t think you ought to waste your money and flirt around all the time like you do.

But I got friends, more than you. That’s the difference.

Good for you. I don’t need anybody.

Charlie’s second beer came and this time, he tipped her a ten.

Sir, you are too kind. She smiled wide as she took the bill.

My pleasure. He looked up at her. What’s your name?

Rita.

Rita, I’m Charlie and this is Nathan. We work at that office building site going up around the corner.

Well, no wonder you’re both so thirsty. You work hard all day long out in the hot sun. She leaned over so Charlie could get another look.

Nathan only looked away in disgust.

When do you get off work? he asked her boldly.

Midnight.

Do you go home, or do you kick back a little first?

Are you askin’ me out?

I am.

I’ll be here. Midnight. I’d love to do something with you after work. And with that, she winked and moved on to the other tables.

Charlie looked back over at Nathan. You see? You see what a little kindness will get you?

More pussy? She’s going out with a total stranger for ten fucking dollars. Nathan finished his beer and shook his head. I gotta go. C’mon.

Charlie left a few more dollars on the table, and then waved to Rita. I’ll be back at midnight, he called as they left to go outside.

It was still about 110 degrees even at 6:00 pm. Nathan wiped sweat off his forehead and jumped into his car, unlocking the door for Charlie who stepped inside.

You’re really coming back?

I’m not missing out on a sure thing.

You’re as big a whore as she is.

Charlie stopped his friend before he started the car. Why do you say these things? Y’know, sometimes you are as big of an asshole as the guys say you are.

Putting down his keys, Nathan looked over at Charlie, his dark eyes piercing against the heated red of his skin. If you don’t like me, leave.

Charlie couldn’t believe the way his friend had been acting. He knew he had days where he was quiet and gloomy, but he had never seen him so mean as he had been that afternoon.

Maybe I will. He reached for the door handle to leave, but Nathan stopped him.

Don’t. I didn’t mean it. I’m just not having a good day.

Shit man, you PMS more than most women.

Nathan tried not to smile, but Charlie always knew what to say that made him laugh. Fuck you. He grinned and slapped his friend on the shoulder.

He knew then why he had no other male friends. No other guys would put up with his temperament. Only Charlie could take a beating and still come back smiling and happy. He sort of admired that quality, but only sometimes wanted to be like that himself. He liked who he was for the most part, even if others didn’t.

C H A P T E R 2

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You want what?

Your piano, Nathan said, seriously.

It’s not mine to give. It’s my mom’s.

So ask her.

Charlie thought his friend was crazy from the intense heat of the day. He paused to take a drink from his water bottle. I can’t. She loves that piano. She bought it a long time ago.

She plays?

Yeah. She’s pretty good. She used to teach piano when she was putting herself through college.

Nathan remembered the first time he’d seen that piano. A baby grand. It was fine. And he couldn’t afford a new one. But when he saw hers, he knew it was something he had to have.

Why do you want a damn piano? Charlie went back to his sawing.

I love classical music. You know that.

Yeah, you weirdo. Everybody I know’s into rock or rap and you like that shit.

Don’t call it that. Nathan grew angry.

I know, I know. You’re so sensitive. Just don’t let it be known that a twenty-two-year-old guy likes that stuff. Especially one I hang around with, or I’ll be getting a reputation I sure as hell don’t want.

Like me.

Hey, you’re okay with it. You don’t give a shit what people think about you. But I do.

Nathan nodded. That’s true.

There were many times when Nathan visited Charlie’s mother even though Charlie had moved out about a year prior. He was close with his mom, and Nathan admired that since his relationship with his own mother was so bad. He secretly envied the closeness Charlie had with his mom; with her being a single parent like his own mother, Charlie’s mom exuded all the right components to being a success, despite her obstacles. It made her that much more appealing to Nathan, as he admired that strength he saw so little in most people. He enjoyed talking to Charlie’s mom, whether his friend was there or not. She always made Nathan feel like a member of her family and he appreciated that. She had the same kind heart that she had given to her son, and she too, seemed happy, like him. He wished for a mother like that ...

Nathan! She opened the door one normally hot Phoenix afternoon. Where’s Charlie?

Oh, he’s out with a girl. Nathan tried not to sound bitter. After all, it was that damn waitress from the bar. Apparently, the two had really hit it off, and they kept going out, despite all of Nathan’s advice to his friend.

That boy. She motioned for Nathan to sit on the couch. I think he’d die without the opposite sex.

Oh, you know about that . Nathan was surprised at her nonchalant mannerisms regarding her son’s lust for sex.

Boys will be boys, she said cheerfully. You off work early today?

Yes. Too hot. Foreman let us go early.

It’s definitely hot, even for Phoenix. She sat down next to him. You want some lemonade?

No thanks. He looked around the room and caught sight of the piano. It was perfect.

I thought you were going to be foreman, soon. Charlie told me you’re moving up quickly there.

He felt himself blush slightly. It was nice to know Charlie actually said something good about him for a change. Yes, ma’am, I’m trying. I’m sort of junior foreman now, if there is such a thing.

Charlie says what a hard worker you are and how good you are with your money. He’s very proud of you. I think he’s envious. She smiled.

Charlie, envious? Of him? Well, I hope to one day have my own business.

And I’m sure you will. You have such high aspirations. It’s so refreshing to hear about someone who’s not afraid of hard work and perseverance. It seems those traits are often forgotten about with this generation.

Oh no ma’am, not with me. He watched her cross her long legs.

Please, Nathan, not ma’am. It’s Joyce. You make me feel so old.

Oh no ma—I mean, no Joyce. You’re not old. Not at all. He could feel himself growing warm. No girl or woman had ever made him feel like that.

You’re kind. She slapped him on the knee playfully. But you don’t have to lie ...

I’m not. He looked into her green eyes under those perfect eyebrows. He moved slightly closer to her on the couch.

She seemed taken aback by his sudden move and she grew a bit nervous. Is there something you need, Nathan? she asked innocently.

Oh, yes. He tried not to sound as horny as he was feeling. I—I wonder if I could ask you for a favor .

She looked at him strangely, but she tried to smile. Yes?

He looked back at the piano. No. It was too early. Charlie says you play the piano.

For a moment, he thought she seemed disappointed in the question. Why yes, yes I do.

And you teach?

I used to.

Can you teach me?

She took a moment to wipe off her forehead. The heat was stifling in the house. Well, I haven’t taught since—

Please? I really want to learn.

His earnest look pleased her. It was so nice to meet a young person with such old-fashioned values and interests; it was so pleasant that one of Charlie’s friends was as mature as Nathan.

Okay, Nathan. We can try.

My mom is teaching you piano?

Every Tuesday and Thursday after work.

Shit. Why?

You know why.

You want the piano.

Yeah, but I want to be able to play it when I get it.

She won’t give it up.

I’ll offer her money.

She won’t sell it. It’s her baby.

You watch. Nathan smiled.

Charlie shook his head. God, you really are weird.

Nathan looked away. Go do your waitress.

As a matter of fact, that’s where I’m going. Charlie smiled, as if impressed with himself.

But Nathan only glared.

The lessons were going well; Nathan was catching on fast, and Mrs. Flanders seemed to enjoy teaching again.

Soon you’ll be in Book II, Nathan. She smiled, reaching across him to close the book he was reading from. You’re doing fine, real fine.

He could smell the perfume on her. She always smelled so clean, and he hoped his sweaty clothes weren’t offending her. Thanks, ma’am—

Joyce.

Joyce. He looked down at the ivory keys. How old is this piano, Joyce?

Pretty old. I got it from an antique store about 20 years ago. I believe it was made in Germany in the late 1800’s.

Germany. Oh damn. Too close to Ludwig.

It’s nice. Beautiful, actually.

Thanks, I like it.

He looked at her. I mean, you.

She stopped fiddling with the music books in her hands and looked up. What?

You’re beautiful, Joyce.

She watched him carefully, looking into his dark eyes. "Oh, Nathan,

Reviews for The Loner

[Alex Mercer · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Came across book accidentally. Amazing character development. Gotta read sequel.