Chapter 1

1

The 723 train was never late. A marvel of modern engineering, it raced through the city at eighty miles per hour. James Duran took that train every single weekday morning, and had for sixteen years. He took the 538 train home. Every weekday. He went to the same job, and he came home to the same wife, because he liked the routine. And he liked his life. It wasn’t the greatest life. It was the life that he had secretly hoped for himself, but it was a good one. He fit. And in the dead of the night, when everybody truly was alone, that was all a person could ask for. He had a place in the world, and he fit there.

The 723 train. Every morning.

James wasn’t the only one who took that train every morning. Or, that is to say that James noticed one other man in particular every single morning. He wasn’t a particularly tall man. He probably didn’t stand over five-ten. He had the sort of solid build that revealed a history of athleticism. James imagined he played varsity football in high school, and started for his college team no later than his sophomore year. He had dark hair and a great smile. He would have a great smile. James had never seen the man smile, because a person didn’t have much to smile about on the 723 train. But he had lines at the corners of his eyes, and around his mouth, and James imagined they were the results of wide, passionate smiles.

He listened to an iPod with small earbuds, and he read the New York Times.He didn’t get off at the same stop as James. He was always still seated when James stood to leave, and occasionally, when he took the 538 train home, he was in his regular spot when James boarded.

The man, his unaware traveling companion, had become the brightest spot in James’s life. He was beautiful, and he awakened desires that James had ignored for too long. His suits always fit perfectly. They fit like clothes should fit a man, accentuating every line. Occasionally, when James was very lucky, he caught a brief whiff of the man’s cologne. It was spicy and subtle and smooth. It suited him, like some strange alchemist had been tasked with the job of concocting the scent that could only be worn by him.

As things spiraled out of James’s control, his morning companion became brighter and brighter. It was an unhealthy fixation, but what did it matter? The line had been drawn in the sand, and every day James rushed toward it on a 723 train at nearly one hundred miles an hour. A computer could do all the work he did, twice as fast, and at a fraction of a cost. So what did it matter that James spent most of his mornings thinking about the texture of the strange man’s skin, and the blunt shape of his nails?

The only difference between that Monday morning and every other Monday morning was that James had already crossed the line in the sand. The train wasn’t taking him to Double Door Publishing, where he had spent the past twenty-five years of his life setting typeface and preparing items for the printing process. The train wasn’t taking him anywhere. But he was going to ride it one final time before he jumped in front of it.

James positioned himself in the seat that the man always chose when he entered the train car. As soon as he saw James, he stopped short with eyes slightly widened.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” James smiled. “I think I took your seat.”

“No, no. It’s fine. My name isn’t on it.”

James turned in his seat, as if to check. “It might be. What’s your name?”

“Chad. Pennington.”

“Nope, no Chad Pennington. But I’ll move anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Chad protested.

“I don’t mind.” James slid to the empty seat to the left. “I’ve seen you on here before.”

“You mean, you’ve seen me every morning?” Chad asked lightly as he sat down. The train lurched to life, the engines making a familiar, high-pitched whine.

“That is what I meant. I wanted to introduce myself sooner, but you’ve always seemed so busy.”

“Busy?”

James nodded at the folded New York Times.“Reading.”

“Actually, I only pretend to read this.”

James arched his brow. “Why would you pretend to read it? Are you trying to impress somebody?”

“I’m trying to hide the fact that I read this.” Chad lifted the flap of the newspaper, revealing a startlingly explicit yet whimsical book cover. A dark-haired man held another man in the clinch, while fires raged behind them. It looked like a gay version of Gone with the Wind.White text on the front informed James that the book was actually titled Gone to the Movies.