Cold Front

 

Kayla went downstate during the freeze. January 7, 2018.

For Leeann

The short black vehicle purred through the snow. If their plan was to stay low at all costs, that wasn’t it.

“You said Central Park, right?”

Kayla nodded.

They pulled up next to a deprecated pedestrian walkway. The trees were coated in flakes that came from the East. She forgot if there had been six or seven of her own servants trying to keep her inside when they got note that it will droop below fourteen degrees. But they can’t fight her, and they knew it. While she was down knocking a rack in, they organized a small brigade, heaved half the collection down to the deepest basement level where they can be stashed, and exchanged three dozens of the red check with fur. With cashmere. With the mildly-scented French-imported coats that surface three months of the year.

Then Luna had the diplomacy. Talked her into it, coaxed her into the sweet little innocent girl when she will inevitably have to put on to face the blizzard knocking on her glass doors. Fed her petty lies that were as white as the snow that carpeted her driveway and melted in her heart.

Keep the best interests of your master at heart, Luna’s handbook decreed on her since she picked up her work years ago.

If you were to step outside, come back alive. Come back well.

Then there was this cold front that swept the East Coast, and her sweet little home. With all the time in the world, she got curious of the annual freeze. And after his release, the prospect of him not dying in his apartment.

She must have had eight, nine, perhaps ten layers of cloth wrapped around her. Red check always at its heart, then the short coat, then the long coat. Then the scarf that hung half way down. The wind was tugging at it. Even at fifty degrees she was sweating through her beloved shirt. But Luna said that her mind would change after she was outside.

The wheels stopped and rolled back slightly to clamp onto its brakes through the inch of snow that has blanketed the asphalt.

“I’ll use my voice for a few minutes. Then we can all go home.” Kayla declared.

“Do you need me—“

“It’s cold out there. Better to kill me than to kill us both.”

Luna cranked the door open, and Kayla crawled out of the car. The door swept itself back in as the coated figure stepped into the freeze. The vehicle’s interior blasted with warm air.

Kayla found herself relieved as she went through the motions to dial up the boy. The dial tone rang through her ear as the chilled glass pressed against it. It rang and rang, and it went through her head maybe the area had a few lines downed. She let it rang.

About a minute later, some person on the other end breathed a voice into her earpiece.

“Kayla?”

“You’re free.”

“Look, I wanted to talk, but I’m in the middle—“

“Five minutes.”

“Fine, you got me. Probably my trademark right now. I’m sorry I don’t have any form of reception.”

“You’re home.” Her hand shook next to her ear. Her voice faltered as the fluids in her throat stilled. She stared at the snow her boots had marched onto and conquered.

“Yes.” His voice is low. “Had a space heater on at the moment.”

“I’m uh— calling to see if my lawyer has given you any trouble.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. Got me sorted through the fast-track. Called me Mister Hector and everything.”

The rich girl took to the shade of the birch two steps from her to dodge the snow that landed everywhere near her. She looked inside the vehicle, the faint face looked back.

“It’s, well, the worst snowstorm in years, I heard.” Her words were seemingly blocked from exiting her lips. “That’s what the news said.”

“They say this every year. Winter time equals cold, especially if we both decided to stay here in New York. There’s no excuses here.”

“Well, we do have space heaters, that you don’t have to pay for.” She’s struggling to connect with him. She looked to the skies and the flakes that passed her face for clues. “We’ll come pick you up.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Miles scratched his neck. “I mean, where are you standing— outside? The wind is killing your microphone, princess. You find some place to hide.”

“I’m in your area.” She pressed her phone against her ear.

“Is that an invitation, Kayla? Don’t tell me you walked here.”

“Demand.”

“Kayla, it’s cold out. I would love it but, if it means you have to stand here instead of sitting comfortably with an army of heaters pointed at you— I made you worry enough, okay?”

She realized that ice has formed around her eyes. She puffed some air into her hands and wiped at it, but seconds later, it came back.

“Kayla? Do we have a connection here?”

“Yes. Miles, we do have one.”

“Good. Listen to me, Richie. You climb back into that limo of yours, and you ride home. I got this heater from Goodwill through my parents for forty-five a few weeks ago. I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Am I any worse than a 20-year-old standing in the cold just to make a call to me? You let me know. You and your Central Park.”

She desperately turned to hope if he was actually a block away and lied about the “home” part and actually did see her. Not a single soul.

“How did you know I’m, uh, here?”

“Your guys are great. Some he-said-she-said shenanigans and they stopped by. You had the address, they had the plan.” He emptied his glass of water. “I’ll make a deal with your guys to come sit this blizzard out. You get in your fancy car, and you guys drive home. I will think about it.”

She lowered her phone and killed the call. She stared at the car again, and her boots lifted.