The Miles Read Online Free Page A

joining him that morning and providing the requisite support throughout the event. Monroe demurred and said that he had not really done anything praiseworthy, and Liam could sense that his best friend still needed some tender loving care to feel that everything was truly right in the world—or at least in their friendship.
    â€œWe’re going to Barneys Co-Op,” Liam insisted as they strode into the winter glare of a bustling Broadway.
    â€œYou think you own the key to my heart, handsome,” Monroe said, averting Liam’s glance. “But don’t overestimate the powers of your persuasion.”
    â€œPlease,” countered Liam. “You cannot feign indifference here. I know you love getting your designer labels for less. Now, the store is only a block and a half away, so let’s quit this faux fighting and get on with our day.”
    The beautiful fur-trimmed jackets and ski pants provided the perfect antidote to the bickering that had marred their morning. Luxury goods have a tendency to make one feel that there is no need to sweat the small stuff. Everything is going to be right as rain. Monroe tried on a lumberjack vest and strutted through the store as though he were the Jolly Green Giant. Liam donned an extravagant, multi-zippered parka and pranced around as though he were in the new James Bond flick. And suddenly all the tension dissipated. They were two friends whose only interest was making it through another day in the big city. Each knew the other was there for them through anything that truly mattered—boy problems, financial snafus, work issues, and family drama—and everything else was just a diversion. Background noise.
    Liam picked out a cashmere skull cap in the most vibrant shades of hot pink and fuchsia he had ever seen.
    â€œI am buying this for you!” he said to Monroe, triumphantly. “I need to be able to spot you in crowds.”
    He handed the surly cashier a fifty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. (The gesture was worth more than the $1.48 he was about to get back.)
    â€œI do look fierce, don’t I?” said Monroe, sashaying out of the store, sporting the new gift proudly on his bald head.
    â€œDon’t ask the obvious, sweetie. I am not here to bolster your already huge ego.”
    â€œThe hell you’re not!” screeched Monroe. “Why do you think old shrews like me keep young lovelies like yourself around, Liam? Don’t open that pretty little mouth of yours and guess ... Let me just tell you that it ain’t the witty repartee!”
    With that flourish, Monroe pivoted around to hail a taxi across town, while Liam headed swiftly in the opposite direction to get the subway downtown.

MILE 3
    L eaning against the bathroom stall, Liam rushed to remove his dress pants. It was already a shade past 7:30, and the prospect of being late worsened his nerves. Why had he decided to come to the track anyway? His nerves had gotten the best of him during the week since Zane had successfully persuaded him to augment his participation in Fast Trackers with these speed workouts. The sweat had built up during the forty-five minutes of subway time spent stuck between a militant preacher rambling about hell on earth and two teenage girls cracking gum and hyena-laughing, and now his undershirt was glued to his back. Peeling it off, Liam lost his balance and tripped away from the bathroom stall with his bare foot landing in a pool of liquid that had formed as a nasty result of the overflowing urinal and a poor drainage system. Liam had not complained when the attendant in the lobby barked that there were no locker rooms and insisted that everyone change in the bathrooms. Normally, he would have asked where his $350 in membership dues went, but getting ready in a timely fashion trumped exacting pointless revenge on the hourly-wage Armory employees.
    The mint-green cotton shorts that were free with his gym membership renewal and the