6. Pressure
6
Pressure
Daisy
“Okay,” I announce as we reach the corner of Millennium Park. “You probably recognize the area from yesterday, but today, we’re going inside the park.”
“Cool,” he says, following my lead.
“The story goes that while Mayor Daley was at a dentist appointment on Michigan Avenue, he looked out the office window at the hundreds of parked cars and the railroad station and then said, ‘Let’s cover it with a park.’”
His head snaps toward me. “Really?”
I laugh quie tly. “Well, in reality, it was probably more complicated than that, but that’s how the idea was born.”
His forehead wrinkles. “This used to be a parking lot?”
“Yup. Now the cars are parked underground in a massive parking garage, and the railroad is still there too.”
“Interesting,” he says, nodding in approval. “Chicago knows how to cover the ugly pretty well. I’ll give you that.”
I flash him a bright smile. “Let’s take a little stroll.”
We meander through the park, and I mention that it’s Chicago’s second most visited attraction, welcoming 25 million visitors every year.
“A lot fewer visitors than Central Park,” he says, just like I knew he would.
“You’re right.” I bob my head. “Which is why it’s that much better. Fewer people equals more enjoyment.”
“You’ve got a point,” he says, shaking his head while suppressing a grin. “So, which way is The Bean?”
With a faint chuckle, I start walking again. “Eager to see the famous Bean, huh? Right this way.”
We continue to Grainger Plaza, where we’re greeted by the magnificent Cloud Gate—the famous steel bean-shaped structure where visitors can snap pictures of their reflections and the Chicago skyline.
“Now,” I say as we approach t he crowded space, “I know New York has a mini-bean, but I’ll bet anything it’s not as cool as this one.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Definitely not.”
As he grabs his phone, I step away, and he takes some pictures.
“Sorry,” I say, noticing my reflection in the bean. “Looks like I’m still in the shot. It’s hard to get away.”
His deep chuckle stirs something inside of me. “No worries, Red. I don’t mind. Actually, smile.”
I wave and smile at my reflection while he snaps a few more photos, and I wish I had the guts to ask him to send them to me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out. Todd again. My throat goes dry, and my pulse throbs in my head.
“Are you okay?” Asher asks softly.
“Uh-huh.” I smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s nothing,” I say, not wanting to give Todd any more attention than he deserves. He’ll give up eventually. I know Todd—the best thing is to just ignore him. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”
As we continue our tour, I show him the Crown Fountain, an interactive work of art, and he doesn’t find anything to say about New York’s superiority. Well, the fountain is unique to Chicago, after all.
We wind through the park, enjoyin g the warm weather and the delicate scent of narcissus blooming, which leads us to Lurie Gardens.
We stroll along the botanical garden’s walkways, flanked by pretty lilies and various specimens of tulips, and admire the sea of colors. Finally, we reach the Pritzker Pavilion, which hosts concerts in the summer, and cross the famous snake-like bridge that connects to Maggie Daley Park.
“Both the Pavilion and the BP bridge were designed by the legendary Frank Gehry,” I say as we walk along the bridge.
“Such an amazing architect, my favorite of his works probably being the Dancing House in Prague.”
I nod eagerly. “Agreed. But I also love when art and architecture are so intricately tied,” I add. “This bridge doesn’t just serve the purpose of connecting both parks. It’s also a true work of art with the sleek steel curves. It’s almost like the bridge is accompanying you across, like it’s moving.”
“I have to admit, it’s pretty cool,” Asher says, glancing around. “And a great viewing platform.”
“Exactly. And, it serves as a noise barrier, blocking the sounds of traffic coming from Columbus Drive underneath.”
“Huh, Gehry really thought of e verything,” he says as we continue across the bridge. “I guess that's one point for Chicago.”
Asher
We continue our leisurely stroll through the park, and I don’t have much to say. Sure, it’s a lot smaller than Central Park, but Daisy has a point. The size is actually an advantage. And the public art displays are definitely a nice touch. I guess it would be pretty cool, having that in my backyard.
Wait. What am I thinking? I don’t want this in my backyard. I’m not looking to move to Chicago. New York is my home, and if I want to keep my job, I’d better focus on my assignment. As we continue our walk, I ask her more about the firm, what she likes and dislikes about it, and why she chose to work there, hoping she’ll let something slip. But she doesn’t, only echoing the things I already know. Switching strategies, I change the subject, trying to get to know her better. But figuring out someone's password takes more than just discovering their favorite color or animal, and frankly, I’m not even sure where to start.
“We’re almost there,” she s ays as we climb a set of stairs. “The Buckingham Fountain is right up here.”
“Did you say Buckingham?” I ask as we reach an empty wedding-cake-style rococo fountain. “You do know that name has already been claimed by the Brits. First the pizza and hot dogs, and now this. Where does it end?” I tease.
She laughs, her head tilting back, and I’m momentarily blinded by her beauty. “We’re well aware. But the fountain was donated to the city by Kate Sturges Buckingham in memory of her brother, Clarence. That’s where it got the name. Many think it’s because right there,” she says, pointing to the lake, “is where Queen Elizabeth II’s boat docked when she came for a visit in 1959.”
I shake my head, once again blown away by the wealth of information in Daisy’s mind. She should be an official ambassador for the city. I’m sure everyone would be scrambling to move here.
We approach the fountain, and we can admire its intricate design even more without the running water.
“When does it open?” I ask.
“Early May, so only a couple of weeks left. I always come back in late spring to watch the water show at night. There’s even light and music.”
Suddenly, I wish I could come back with her to watch the fountain. I’m sure it’s spectacular.
She shares more information about the fountain as we gaze at it together before finally making our way back.
“So, is Chicago winning any points?” she asks, tilting her head.
I chuckle, nodding slowly. “I’ll admit, I like what I’m seeing. This park definitely works in Chicago’s favor.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I reluctantly check it. Two missed calls from Doug. My throat constricts at the stark reminder that I’m only here for one reason.
Doug has been texting and calling all day, and now that I’m finally alone in my hotel room, I have little choice but to call him back.
“Forbes, it’s about time,” he barks. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry. It’s not easy to carve out some alone time during the day. The girl who’s showing me around is with me constantly.”
“Fine. How’s it going? Have you found anything?”
Once again, I debate telling him about the software, but just like when we spoke yesterday, I hold back. Mentioning it to him wouldn’t change anything since I don’t have a clue how to access it, or if it’s even worthwhile. “No. We spent the entire day out. She showed me around the city, and we haven’t stepped foot in the office.”
He groans. “That’s not helping. What are you going to do about it?”
“Well, their method kind of makes sense.” I scratch my head. “Jan wants me to see what Chicago has to offer so I can better decide whether to make the move.”
“Yes. I get that. But what are you going to do about it ?” he asks again.
“What can I do?” I heave a sigh. “I’ll just have to wait and hope she brings me to the office soon. She did say we would, so I’m hoping for tomorrow.”
“ Hoping? ” I can practically feel his frustration bubbling through the phone, and I’m suddenly glad I’m not in the same room as him. “That’s the best you’ve got, Forbes? I’m not paying you to take a vacation or tour the freaking city! Create opportunities for yourself. That’s how business works. You can’t just wait around for someone to hand it to you.”
I clench my jaw. “Right.”
“Prove I wasn’t wrong betting on you,” he snaps before hanging up.
I throw my phone on the bed and s it down, dropping my head into my hands. I need to figure something out, or he’ll skin me alive.
Lifting my head, I rub my chin in thought. I’m meeting Daisy for dinner on Michigan Avenue tonight. Maybe I can try sneaking into the office afterwards. I’m not sure what kind of security they have, but I do have a visitor’s pass. That’ll definitely show Doug that I’m taking this assignment seriously. And if I figure out how to snoop without being interrupted, I might finally find something to report to him.