Chapter Twenty-One #2
Later, after only a few minutes of walking, Jesse found himself standing in front of the Great Wharf Moving Sidewalk wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
Despite having seen the contraption on the map, the sidewalk wasn’t what Jesse had been expecting in the least. He’d been imagining (foolishly) that it would be a sidewalk.
In other words, he thought that it would be no wider than the rest of the sidewalks in Chicago, only it would move.
But this sidewalk wasn’t like any ordinary sidewalk.
Instead, it was as wide as a train car, perched on a series of interconnected platforms. Affixed to the movable platforms, there were benches, each one able to seat four or five people.
Interestingly enough, the whole of the sidewalk was beneath a connected roof, so those who were riding it were shielded from the sun.
In truth, the whole thing looked rather luxurious.
Not only was the sidewalk larger and more sophisticated looking than Jesse had expected, but it seemed more complicated from an engineering perspective as well.
Approaching the large sign stating the price for a ride, Jesse furrowed his brow in confusion, studying the platforms as they passed by.
He wondered how it worked. Unable to even make himself care about how strange he might look, Jesse took a knee so that he could try to peer beneath it.
Perhaps the platforms were sitting on top of a set of train tracks?
Arthur crouched beside him.
“Are we searching for something?” he asked.
“I’m trying to figure out how it works,” Jesse replied.
“Ah,” Arthur said with a click of his tongue. “Of course. You’re an engineer.” Clapping his hands on his knees, Arthur pushed himself to stand. He pulled a guidebook from his back pocket, opened it, and knelt back down. “It says here that these platforms are resting on a set of tracks.”
Jesse smiled triumphantly. “I knew it.”
Arthur hummed. “I’m not surprised. You’re a smart man, Mr. O’Connor.” After a moment, he shimmied closer, and then in a hushed-but-husky voice, he whispered, “I love that about you, you know. I love how smart you are. I love how well you teach me things. All kinds of things.”
Jesse’s cheeks warmed, the intonation in Arthur’s voice making his heart thud and his blood run hot, and then he hobbled to his feet. He hoped that no one had seen them. Or, more specifically, that no one had heard Arthur’s remark. Arthur was so infuriatingly bold sometimes.
“Let’s see if there’s a line,” Jesse said, craning his head to search for one and ignoring the pitter-pattering of his lovesick and frazzled heart.
He spotted a short queue of people a few feet away. It wasn’t long before he and Arthur were able to board. Arthur and Jesse sat next to each other on one of the benches. Jesse pretended to be very interested in the scenery, keeping his eyes on the water, as they began to move.
Leaning in close, Arthur whispered, “Did my earlier comment bother you?”
“Yes,” Jesse said curtly, though he immediately felt bad for it. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat before then adding, “In a . . . nice way.”
“Oh. I see.” Arthur huffed a laugh. “Apologies. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Can you try to help yourself? Sometimes?” Jesse asked, finally turning to meet Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur was watching him intently, his blue eyes boring into Jesse’s soul.
In a slightly breathy voice, one that had no right being as seductive as it was, he murmured, “Is that really what you want, Mr. O’Connor?”
Jesse’s heart stuttered and a lightning bolt of want coursed through his veins.
He frowned. “No.” His face burned hotter. “I hate you,” he said with a sigh, knowing very well that he sounded like a petulant child.
Arthur chuckled haughtily. “Mmm . . . no, I think you like me.”
“Not even a little.”
“Because it’s a lot?” Arthur asked playfully.
Jesse shook his head, but a smile cracked through his surly facade.
“Because it’s a lot,” he conceded.
Arthur continued to laugh. It was the most enraging, most pompous, most bewitching sound that Jesse had ever heard in his life. Jesus Christ, Jesse was so enamored with this man. He was so completely besotted with Arthur Albert Hughes.
Jesse ruminated on the perfection of that moment as they moved over the water, their bench creeping farther along the pier every second.
After they finished traveling the entire length of the track, it was time for them to hop off and head to Bridgeport.
Jesse took one last look around before following Arthur off of the platform.
He only took two steps back toward the Court of Honor when a tall, lean man with a charming smile and soft brown eyes walked into his field of vision.
Jesse froze, fear crystalizing in his veins like sharp pieces of ice.
Percy Verne.
“Jesse? Jesse Wolff?” Percy said, coming closer, his smile stretching wider but turning slightly sinister.
Or perhaps that was only in Jesse’s mind.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Before Jesse could even try to respond, Percy looked up at Arthur and said, “Arthur Hughes? Now, this is interesting. Do you two know each other?”
Jesse shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was to hear Percy say Arthur’s name. Obviously Arthur and Percy had crossed paths before. Probably many times, even. After all, the circle of Chicago’s elite was only so large. Or, more precisely, so small.
Arthur replied effortlessly, “Yes, we do. Jesse works for me.”
“Oh really? Where?” Percy inquired.
“Putnam Press. Jesse is the most skilled pressman there. He’s probably the most skilled in the whole of Chicago, really.”
“Wow.” Percy’s eyes flickered over to Jesse, whose entire face was now on fire, though the rest of his body was still frozen solid. “It seems like you managed to escape the Stockyard in the end, hm?”
Even though there was no malice in Percy’s voice, hearing the shameful truth of his pitiful origins still made Jesse flinch. He tried to reply, but shock and shame and heartache strangled the words in his throat, and the only thing he could manage was a small, pathetic nod.
“So, Percy, how is it that you and Jesse know each other?” Arthur asked.
“We went to college together,” Percy said simply. “Well, for a time.”
Shame continued to scorch Jesse’s cheeks. Yes, for a time. Until Jesse had failed out because he’d been too Goddamned heartbroken to keep up in his classes.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Illinois Industrial? I thought you went to Princeton.”
Percy shrugged. “That was the plan initially, but when my mother suffered from her stroke, I thought it would be best if I stayed close by. Relatively speaking.”
“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Arthur said with a friendly smile. “If I recall correctly, she’s since recovered her mobility?”
“By the grace of God,” Percy confirmed with a nod.
“Wonderful to hear that,” Arthur replied, his voice tinged with unmistakable compassion.
Jesse wished he possessed even one ounce of that man’s charm.
A tick of silence followed, and Jesse thought that perhaps he’d weathered the worst of it.
But then Percy opened his Goddamned mouth.
“It’s so very interesting that you two are friends,” Percy said, momentarily looking at Jesse before his eyes returned to Arthur. “Are you friends with all of your employees?”
Jesse saw Arthur’s friendly, confident smile falter ever so slightly, and his stomach curdled.
All of a sudden, Jesse was back in front of Percy’s house, and the heart-shattering words that Percy had said so many years ago were replaying in his head, only this time their meaning was finally becoming clear.
“People would talk, Jesse. I could lose my inheritance if my parents ever found out about you. About us. Our friendship . . . you’re not .
. . important enough. I mean, even once you finish college, it isn’t as though people will know who Jesse Wolff is.
Our lives, they’re completely separate when we’re not in school.
And I think . . . oh, love, I think they always will be.
It was sweet of you to want to come here and surprise me, but my parents might suspect something if they found us.
Especially since . . . well, you know what happened before I left for school.
We can’t see each other here. Actually, maybe it’s best if we stop seeing each other entirely. ”
Percy’s parting words continued to echo, their harsh truth illuminating one particular problem that Jesse selfishly hadn’t let himself see.
Jesse had been fixated on the possibility that he might not be enough for Arthur Hughes.
But now Jesse could see that there was an even larger, more pressing reason that their forever friendship might not work.
Sooner or later, Arthur would realize how much he had to lose.
Arthur had a huge, beautiful home. He had two thriving print shops and investments in God-only-knew how many other businesses. He had a family. And a life that was filled with luxury and prestige, one that was enriched by equally wealthy, equally influential friends who belonged to Chicago’s elite.
Eventually, Arthur would see these things—really, truly see them—for himself.
He’d realize what he was risking by being with Jesse.
Because their friendship—their unlikely, random friendship—could only ever invite raised eyebrows or ridicule at best. And if the people in Arthur’s circle ever realized that what was between them was much more than friendship . . .
Jesse swallowed thickly.
Arthur may have been funny and silly and eccentric and charming and oh-so-many other wonderful things, but the man was still beholden to familial and societal pressure in ways that Jesse would never be.
And someday, Arthur would see that, too.