CHAPTER 5

Nathaniel reached out and switched on the bedside lamp. He rolled onto his back and stared at the blank ceiling. It was no use. He couldn't sleep. His mind was racing at high velocity and he couldn't turn it off. Too many thoughts were swirling with twister-like momentum. Too many deeply-buried memories were crashing against the surface, breaking through the walls he had so carefully built around them.

How long had it been since he had thought about all those midnight rides in Danny's car, speeding down the highways with the wind blowing through his hair as he poured out his dreams? Since he had relived that first sweet, shy, innocent kiss with Danny, the kiss that, according to his father's beliefs, had started him down the long road to Hell?

He shied away from that thought, wondering again what had happened to Barbie. She had been so kind and so pretty, the first girl he had ever really talked to or gotten to know. She had found his shyness endearing, he remembered, and tried so hard to take care of him. And he hadn't even gotten to tell her good-bye.

A thud at the end of the bed heralded the arrival of Hinx. The massive tomcat padded up the length of his body and settled comfortably on his chest, paws kneading rhythmically.

"Hinx, would you get your butt out of my face?" Nathaniel demanded irritably, picking the cat up and turning him around.

Hinx stared balefully at him for a long moment, as if considering a return to his former position. Then he leaned forward, swiped a single lick across Nathaniel's nose, closed his eyes and began to purr.

Nathaniel laughed. "I love you, Hinx," he said as he hugged the cat in a sudden burst of affection.

He thought about the last two weeks and the possibilities that now lay on the horizon. How much he loved the idea of making the loft his home. This job was like a dream come true. He so hoped it hadn't been an offer made out of pity, that Logan wouldn't wake up in the morning and regret his decision.

If he did, Nathaniel would just have to make him change his mind, he vowed. He knew he could do the job and do it well. Hadn't Logan already told him what a help he was, how their discussions helped him clarify his thoughts and brought up points he hadn't considered? And he could do the research, too. He loved to read and learn new things and he had always gotten A's on the essays for high school online.

Which he could pay for now, thanks to Logan. His thoughts leaped to another track. No more scrimping and saving and counting pennies, wondering if he could afford to eat and send off that precious money order every month. And he could pay for his gym membership and replace his phone and buy some new clothes and get his hair cut.

He could get a new toy bag and replace its contents. He could even get the top-line items he was used to instead of having to make do with lower-quality substitutes. He might not to be able to get everything all at once, but--

But he didn't have to replace them at all, he realized. He didn't have to replace them or use them or allow them to be used on him ever again. Just like he didn't ever have to allow men to violate his body, to treat him like an object that existed only for their pleasure. He didn't have to have sex ever again, unless *he* wanted to with a man that *he* chose.

The tears came then, slow, silent, scalding tears. He rolled onto his side, buried his face in his arm and wept until his throat ached and his eyes felt like sandpaper. At some point, Hinx pushed his way between face and arm and Nathaniel cried until the thick gray fur was soaked with tears. At last, at the end of his endurance, he was lulled into sleep by the comforting rumble of Hinx's purr and the rasp of the cat's tongue over his wet cheek.

Logan woke and stared at the clock in resignation. Damn it. He hadn't slept well, shaken by Nathaniel's revelations and his own impulsive offer. He really could use another hour or two of sleep. His body wasn’t about to cooperate, though, and after 10 minutes of meditation and deep, calm breathing he gave up, rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. He automatically glanced around for Hinx, even though the cat was rarely with him in the morning anymore. He seemed to have developed a new routine of going to bed with Logan and then transferring to Nathaniel's bed in the middle of the night. As if on cue, the cat appeared at the top of the stairs with an imperious meow.

"I am *not* late," Logan informed the cat irritably. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

When he arrived in the kitchen, Hinx was already waiting by his bowl in expectation.

"You know the routine, Hinx," Logan informed him. "Coffee, papers, *then* feed the cat." The cat stalked away and soon Logan heard the scratch of paws in the litter box.

"Morning, Joe," he said to the security guard in the hall a few minutes later. "Rough night?"

Joe was wearing a rain slicker but his shoes and lower pant legs were soaked, while the essence of wet dog was almost overwhelming in the small hallway. "A long one," he replied tiredly. "It rained all night. Better than snow, though."

"That won't be far behind," Logan prophesied. "It seems like it gets earlier every year."

As they stood discussing the weather, Hinx appeared between Logan's legs. He sat down and glared menacingly at Attila until he had the dog's full attention, then lifted one paw.

Attila pressed back against Joe's legs and gave an agonized whimper.

"Hinx!" Logan admonished sharply. "Leave Attila alone!"

With his best innocent look, the cat licked the upraised paw and began ostentatiously washing his face as if that was what he had intended all along.

Joe laughed as Logan shook his head.

"Bully," Logan accused.

"You should have named him Bruiser," Joe said as he opened his door and Attila made a beeline for the safety of the interior, dragging his leash along behind him. "How’s the book coming?"

"Good. I've made some real progress lately. Which reminds me, I've hired a research assistant. He'll be living here so don't worry if you see a stranger coming and going."

"Don’t cuff him or call the cops?" Joe said with a grin.

"Please don’t," Logan said with a laugh. He pushed Hinx back through the door and went inside.

Hinx complained all the way to the kitchen, darting back and forth in front of Logan’s feet along the way. "Yes, I know. Feed the cat," Logan said. He poured cat food in the dish, then settled down with a bowl of cereal while he scanned the headlines.

He had folded the paper to the classified ads and reached for his pen when he realized what he was doing. Laughing ruefully, he put his bowl into the dishwasher and went to work.

Hinx followed him into the workroom and watched critically as he checked his investments and made one or two minor changes to his portfolio. Soon, however, Logan gave up and leaned back in his chair reflectively. He was still bothered by his impulsive offer to Nathaniel the evening before. He had never been one to make a decision without thinking it over and exploring it from all angles, especially a decision that would have such far-reaching ramifications, and his rash decision troubled him. Had he offered Nathaniel a job because he was qualified or because he felt sorry for the young man? Or as an excuse to keep him close by? If Nathaniel had appeared for a scheduled interview dressed in a nice suit and tie, would Logan have reacted in the same way?

"What do you think, Hinx?" he asked the cat, who hopped from the desk into his lap and rubbed affectionately against his jaw before curling up in his lap. "Silly question. You've adopted him. That's one point in his favor. But do I really need a research assistant?"

Another silly question. His agent had been urging him to find one for months, hence the few failed attempts with the research agencies. But it wasn't that easy; it wasn't just a matter of giving someone a subject and having them find and regurgitate the facts in a form he could use. He needed more than that. No matter what kind of informal schedule he typically followed, his plotting and writing went on in his subconscious all the time. He needed someone who didn't mind working irregular hours or listening to him pontificate or acting as a sounding board for his ideas. He needed someone who could provide insights of his or her own and who could see points that he might overlook.

Someone much like Nathaniel, in fact. The young man was bright and well-read. He seemed to enjoy their wide-ranging discussions and was able to offer his own opinions without being overbearing. He was untrained and inexperienced, but that wasn't necessarily a flaw. He wasn't ignorant or stupid by any means, and with the proper training and guidance, he would probably make an excellent assistant. No, Logan decided, his timing had been impulsive but the underlying reasoning was sound.

Satisfied, he set Hinx back on the desk and went to work. An hour and several phone conversations later, Logan bookmarked one last website and looked at the clock. It was too late to start writing now. He would just get immersed in it and it would be time to stop and make lunch.

"How about a mid-morning snack?" he asked Hinx as he set the laptop to hibernate.

The cat leaped from the desk and followed him into the hall but paused by the door to the guestroom - Nathaniel's room - indecisively.

"Don't wake him up," Logan warned softly. "He needs his rest."

"I'm awake," came a drowsy voice from within the room and Hinx neatly jumped the overturned shoe that propped the door open for him and disappeared within.

Logan went on to the kitchen where he poured himself a cup of coffee and sliced a bagel for the toaster. As he had expected, Nathaniel appeared a few moments later.

"Good morning," Logan greeted him as he a pulled a second mug from the cupboard and began filling it. He admired the way the black and gray plaid sleep pants hung on his new assistant and how the comfortable black t-shirt draped over his lean chest. Bare feet shuffled against the kitchen tile as Nathaniel focused heavy eyes on a barstool he had targeted. As he neared the kitchen island, Logan resisted the urge to reach out and straighten the tousled blond hair that Nathaniel flicked out of his eyes with an unconscious toss of his head.

"Morning," Nathaniel replied sleepily as he slid onto one of the stools at the island. "Sorry."

"For what?" Logan set the mug on the counter in front of the younger man and passed him the sugar bowl.

He added two heaping spoons of sugar to the mug and took a cautious sip before replying. "I meant to be up early, not oversleep my first day on the job."

"Actually," Logan told him as he got another bagel from the bread box, sliced it and put it in the toaster, "I'd rather you didn't get up early. I work better without distractions first thing in the morning. Your current schedule works fine for me."

"Oh, ok."

Logan tried not to smile at the relief in his voice. "I don't expect you to work a regular eight hour shift, either. Some days will be very busy, other days will be less so. It's the quality of the work I'm interested in, not the quantity of hours. Do you want cream cheese on this?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." Nathaniel took another gulp of the coffee and set the cup down. "I'm ready to start now. What do I do first? Do you have a list of the stuff you want me to look up? Should I do it online or-- No, you're supposed to be writing now," he interrupted himself. "I can go to the library, though, look some stuff up there if you want me to--"

"Whoa, slow down," Logan held up his hand with a laugh. "Have something to eat first." He put cream cheese on both bagels and put them on plates, then got the orange juice out and filled two glasses before setting them in front of Nathaniel. "I've already spoken to my agent, accountant and attorney, and gotten your paperwork started."

"What paperwork?" Nathaniel questioned, his words indistinct as he picked up one half of his bagel and took a bite.

"Your W-4 and an I-9, to start with. We talked about whether it would be better for you to be self-employed or work directly for me and—"

"Why do I need to do all that official stuff?" Nathaniel interrupted. "Can't you just give me cash every week or so?"

"I guess we can pay you in cash if you prefer," Logan took the interruption in stride, "but you'll still need to do the proper paperwork for taxes and social security. It isn't that hard to do. You just fill in your name, address and social security number and figure out how many deductions you need to take. I can walk you through it if you'd like."

"I guess." Nathaniel said with a shrug. He tossed the half-eaten bagel back on the plate and pushed it away. "I'll take a look at it later."

Logan had been looking for a little more enthusiasm; he hoped this didn't mean Nathaniel was having second thoughts, that he wasn't regretting accepting the job offer. Logan was surprised by how disappointed that possibility made him, in spite of the fact he had questioned his own impulsive offer. Maybe it was because Nathaniel was still tired and paperwork was boring to him. It certainly wasn’t as exciting as research. That could be a big part of it, Logan reassured himself.

"I also ordered a credit card for you on my account and looked at computers," Logan said, hoping that would spark more interest than the paperwork. He washed down a bite of bagel with his orange juice. "I don't know whether you would prefer a desktop or a laptop so I bookmarked a few of each. I'd recommend a laptop, it's more versatile and you can take it with you when we travel. Dell has a couple of models that I think you would like. You can-- Nathaniel," he snapped his fingers in front of the young man's face. "Are you listening to me?"

Nathaniel started. "Yeah. Sorry, Logan. I was drifting. I guess I didn't sleep very well."

"Is your bed comfortable enough?" Logan asked in concern. He had picked out new furniture for the guest room when he had moved from the house to the loft. The Mission-style furniture had the simplicity about them that he liked and that fit well in the rather small guestroom. He had never slept on the mattress, although it was supposed to be a good one, the same brand as the one he had on his own bed. He never had a problem with his own, but different people liked different styles.

"We can get a new mattress if that isn't comfortable enough," he offered. "And that's your room now, you know. You can rearrange the furniture or redecorate it if you want. You don’t have to keep the colors or bedding I picked out."

"No, it's fine," Nathaniel assured him tiredly. "I like everything just the way it is."

There wasn’t even the slightest sign of the enthusiasm that Logan had seen earlier and he frowned. "You sound like you could use some fresh air," Logan tried yet another tactic. "Why don't you grab a shower and get dressed and we'll go to the university library? I'll show you around and we'll see about getting you set up with a card."

"Yeah, sure, I guess," Nathaniel replied halfheartedly. He started to get up, then paused and asked, "Do you think we could do it another time? I have some other things to do today."

That was it. Logan needed an assistant but he needed one who was on board, willing to do the job. He certainly wasn’t going to push it on Nathaniel if he wasn't interested. "Look, do you want this job or not?" he snapped.

"Of course I want the job!" Nathaniel leaped to his feet so forcefully the barstool threatened to topple. "Why the hell wouldn't I want this job? It's perfect! To live here and work here and be with you and Hinx every day and do something that I love to do and get paid for it? Of course I want it!"

"Then why--" Logan began, taken aback at the reaction he had provoked.

"I want it more than anything in the world!" Nathaniel continued as if he hadn't spoken. "But I can't have it and I can't sit here and listen to you go on and on, telling me how wonderful it's going to be when I know I can't do it! It hurts, damn it!"

He paused, his fists clenched and his breath coming in short, quick pants and Logan tried again to get a word in edgewise.

"Thaniel, what--"

"To finally be so close and to have everything fall apart again!" Nathaniel overrode him with another explosion of words, his face twisted in anguish. "It was stupid to want it! It was stupid to think I could ever be a normal person! That I could ever have a real job with a real paycheck and a real life! To think I could ever ha-"

"Nathaniel! Sit!" Logan's sharp, forceful tone cut through the self-loathing tirade like a knife.

Nathaniel stopped mid-word, eyes wide. "Yes, sir," he responded automatically as he obediently dropped onto his seat.

"Now sit on your hands and close your eyes," Logan ordered firmly. He waited until Nathaniel had obeyed and then added, "Good. Now sit there quietly for a minute."

What in hell had set him off, Logan wondered. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he stared at the distraught young man. His eyes were closed, as Logan instructed, but his breath was still coming in short, quick pants with an occasional curious hitch as if he were fighting back tears.

Logan sighed in confusion. Nathaniel had been fine when he got up, enthusiastic about the job, excited even. He had worried about oversleeping, demanded his first assignment. He had been fine right up until they started talking about the paperwork. Logan went over the conversation in his mind, looking for an answer. When it hit him, it was so obvious that he couldn't believe he had overlooked it. His voice was gentle as he asked, "Nathaniel, you don't have a social security card, do you?"

Eyes still closed, Nathaniel hesitated and then gave a quick shake of his head.

"Do you have any ID at all?"

Another quick shake.

Logan exhaled slowly, wondering how many more things he took for granted that Nathaniel had never experienced. "I guess taking care of that should be our first step, then."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Nathaniel asked with a look of bitter reproach. "Don't you think I know it's something all normal people have? I tried to apply for a social security number. They said I had to have a birth certificate and picture ID. I tried to get a birth certificate. They said I had to have a social security number and a picture ID. So I tried to get a picture ID and *they* said I had to have a social security number and a birth certificate."

His hands came out from under his thighs and his fists clenched as his voice rose in frustration. "It's impossible! If you don't start out with something, you can't *get* anything. They said I needed to go back to my parents and have them get a copy of my birth certificate or they might be able to accept my school records. Well, guess what? I don't *have* any school records because I got yanked out of the fucking school! And I won't go back to my father and ask him for anything. EVER!" He slammed his fist down on the counter for emphasis.

"Hands!" Logan warned sharply.

Sorry," Nathaniel muttered guiltily, tucking his hands back beneath his thighs and automatically closing his eyes.

"There has to be a way around this," Logan mused thoughtfully. "What about all the people who lose everything in a hurricane or tornado or fire? They don't go without ID for the rest of their lives. Hold on while I make a couple of calls and see what I can find out."

Nathaniel sat compliantly as the older man picked up the phone. He heard Logan make the call and start a pleasant chat with someone but he was too engrossed in his own thoughts to pay much attention to what was being said. Maybe Logan could fix things, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up only to be disappointed yet again.

He was so tired of being jerked around by life, so tired of thinking he was finally going to make it, only to find himself back where he started or worse. Sometimes it didn't make much sense to have dreams. It just made it hurt worse when those dreams were denied.

"Nathaniel, open your eyes."

He suddenly realized that Logan was speaking to him, not the person on the phone.

"What's your full name?"

"Nathaniel Kent."

"Middle name?"

"Reid. R-e-i-d."

Logan repeated the information into the phone.

"Father's full name?"

"Jerome Lester Kent."

"Mother's maiden name?"

"Mary Alice Reid."

As Logan took him through birth dates and places of birth he felt a faint glimmer of hope, instantly suppressed. As he already knew, giving information didn't mean a birth certificate or social security card would be forthcoming. Still, maybe they would listen to Logan where they had dismissed him. Even if they didn't, maybe Logan would be willing to pay him cash under the table now. He could live without social security and the government could live without his taxes.

"Nathaniel," Logan required his attention again. "You said your father was on disability. Do you know if he got a check from the government?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Yeah. A monthly check and food stamps and I'm not sure what else."

Logan repeated the information and finished the conversation, then turned to Nathaniel. "Ok," he said, sitting down next to him. "That was my attorney's office. They said there's a routine process for handling situations like this and they don't seem to think there will be much of a problem. We should have the birth certificate in a couple of weeks. They also said that if your parents received government aid you should already have a social security number. They'll do a 'lost or stolen card' claim and once you have the birth certificate and your replacement card you can apply for a driver’s license or a state ID."

"Wow," Nathaniel said blankly. Hope soared briefly, then his shoulders slumped. It couldn't be that easy. In a week or two, they would have some excuse for why they couldn’t deliver.

"It will work, Thaniel," Logan said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me."

Nathaniel took a deep breath. "I'll try," he promised with a shaky smile.

"That's all I can ask. Now, why don't you go get dressed and we'll go shopping," Logan suggested with a reassuring smile. "We have a computer to buy."

"Ok." Nathaniel slid his hands out from under his thighs and stood up, then looked curiously at Logan. "How did you know to do that? How did you know it would help?"

Logan shrugged. "My sister Kelly has always had a problem with panic attacks. That's the way my parents always handled it. Once she couldn't see or move she would usually calm down and they could deal with whatever was bothering her."

"But I wasn't having a panic attack," Nathaniel objected.

"It still worked, didn't it?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow

"Yeah, but--" Nathaniel decided to quit while he was ahead.

"Why don’t you get that shower so we can go, Thaniel – Sorry, Nathaniel," Logan corrected himself ruefully.

"It's ok," Nathaniel told him. "I kind of like it."

"Are you sure?" Logan asked. "I hate it when people shorten my name."

"Yeah, I'm sure. My father called me Nat and I hated it but I like Thaniel. It's kind of special. And I know Nathaniel can be a mouthful sometimes."

"Not as much as Dal-Nathaniel," Logan replied with a grimace and they both laughed. "So, Thaniel, ready to get dressed so we can go look at computers?"

Nathaniel flashed his usual cocky grin. "Yes, boss," he said confidently. "Ready when you are."