Midnight Run

Chapter Two

When Kingston moved to New York, he hadn't realized how long it would take him to adjust to the weather.

It got cold back in Texas, that was for sure, but it was the kind of cold that went along with a desert; sharp, clean, and fairly clear. The cold in Manhattan seemed to ooze out of the ground, seeping into the streets and buildings like the villain of some old b-movie. It made his lungs burn, no matter how carefully he dressed each morning for his run.

His breath hung in the air in front of him, a ghostly cloud in the early morning light, and Kingston shook his head. Why the hell did I move here in the middle of winter? I didn't even have the good sense to get here in time for the New Year's shindig.

True, he'd had a choice; when the bank back in Fort Worth offered him a promotion, they also gave him the option to transfer to one of their other branches. Kingston knew it was juvenile, but something about New York City had always felt like a fairy tale to him, and he was giddy with anticipation when he realized that he could transfer there. So he picked Manhattan, but the bank decided when to send him.

At least they let me have a holiday at home, he thought, veering around an early morning dog walker as he continued his run through Central Park. His mom had been teary when he'd announced his promotion, and she was still moping by Christmas dinner.

"Why did you have to pick somewhere so far away? You won't even be in the same time zone anymore, King." She'd said, spooning out far more mashed potatoes for him than was strictly necessary.

He'd leaned over to kiss her cheek. "It's not permanent, Ma. Just a chance for me to see what the fuss is about, that's all."

His father pointed his fork at him. "But permanent or not, you're not going to give it anything less than your all, right son?"

"Of course, sir." Kingston knew he was probably the only almost-thirty-year-old who addressed either of his parents so formally, but his father commanded respect. "I'll do the job right."

Now, three weeks after the move, Kingston still hadn't settled into a rhythm that seemed right for New York. He ran before the sun came up because that was what he'd been used to back home to escape the blistering heat of the day, but the frozen air didn't seem to force the same schedule on other runners, and he rarely saw anyone in the park. He missed running with a group; back home, he'd been a member of a handful of running clubs, but his favorite group were the Midnight Runners. There was no earthly reason to run at that hour, not even the heat, but Kingston had loved the diverse group of other nutty sports enthusiasts. Maybe I should see if there's a club like that here.

His steps slowed, and he began his brisk cool down walk, but once he stopped running, the cold seeped through his clothes and into his bones, and Kingston gave an involuntary shiver. Cutting his walk short, he hurried back to his apartment a few blocks from the park. He knew the building was a prime location, if the price of his rent was any indication, but he hadn't rented it for prestige; the apartment was conveniently located to both his new job and the park, and since work and running were the only things on his agenda, and since he had a considerable chunk of change saved up after living at home through college and for all the years since, Kingston figured he was allowed to splurge a little bit on real estate. His mother would have fainted if she'd seen the price tag and the tiny studio that accompanied it, and his father would have shook his head and called him reckless, but Kingston didn't care.

He didn't plan on telling them, either.