The Bride Collector Read Online Free PDF

watching him only; the rest were only extras. It was the same for all of them, but few were courageous enough
     to understand or confess this single beautiful, bitter truth: Deep down inside, each of them believed they were at the center
     of the universe.
    But at the moment, it was Quinton, and he was wise enough to embrace it.
    God had chosen Quinton Gauld. Simple. Indisputable. Final.
    Which brought Quinton to the task set before him. Three more, as he saw fit. Ending with the most beautiful.
    The boy in the booth was whining his dislike for peas. A perfectly good vegetable, but this dark-headed boy who looked to
     be about ten or eleven was refusing to consider reason, in part because the father wasn’t delivering reason, but distraction.
     “How about ice cream, Joshie? How about lobster, Joshie?”
    Quinton cut off more meat and savored the bite. So delicious. Rarely had he drawn such pleasure from meat. But the boy was
     undermining the experience, and Quinton felt regression pressing in on his psyche.
Joshie
was mad as hell and there seemed no good reason for it. The boy was simply misfiring. Going kaput. Rotting before his time
     in the grave.
    Few things distracted Quinton any longer. He’d long ago conquered his mind. A doctor had once diagnosed him with schizoaffective
     disorder, a condition that supposedly involved the complications of thought disorder and a bipolar mood disorder. Five years
     of his life had vanished in a fog of heavy medication, until he silently protested the oppression.
    The condition was his greatest gift, not a disease. He still took a very low dosage of medication to control the tics—a natural
     by-product of a supercharged mind—but otherwise he relied on his own substantial focus and enlightenment.
    At the moment, it took every fiber of his formidable intellect to remain calm. The square of seared cow flesh in his mouth
     was tasting more like cardboard than meat. After his significant accomplishment earlier today, the heavens were cheering,
     but the rats on earth were totally oblivious. There was no respect left in the world.
    The father suggested that Joshie take a time-out to think about it, and the boy raced screaming to the restroom. None of the
     others seemed too put out by the scene.
    The whole mini-drama was more than Quinton was willing to bear. He calmly set down his knife and dabbed his lips with his
     serviette seven times, alternating corners, a habit that helped to bring order to his mind. He took one more deep draft of
     the purified water, slipped a hundred-dollar bill onto the table, and stood.
    With a nod and smile at the waitress who wanted him, he walked toward the restroom.
    It was important not to stand out in a crowd while simultaneously living a nonplastic life. An authentic life. Authentic,
     but not proud and obnoxious, either. That was the boy’s problem: He was standing out in the crowd, acting as if he were a
     coddled king who ate ice cream while the rest of the kingdom was subjected to peas.
    Quinton’s problem, on the other hand, was how to enlighten the boy without making the same mistake and drawing attention.
     He neither wanted nor needed the spotlight, particularly not now.
    He walked into the bathroom with a backward glance, noting that no one else was hurrying to relieve themselves of dinner or
     drink. The door closed with a soft clunk. The boy faced the urinal, uttering a long, mournful wail that might be expected
     at a funeral procession, but not here after being offered ice cream.
    Eager to deliver his message quickly, Quinton walked to the stalls, checked both to be sure they were alone, then approached
     the boy.
    He tapped Joshie on the shoulder. The boy was zipping up, and he spun with a short gasp, swallowing his annoying cry.
    “Why are you crying, lad?” Quinton asked.
    Joshie got over his initial shock and flattened his mouth. “Mind your own business,” he said. Then he made to walk past Quinton.
    Quinton knew it now: The