Speaker 1: Late October nineteen twenty nine, and the Everlay Hotel still
Speaker 1: shimmered like a Champagne dream, even if everything beneath it
Speaker 1: felt unsteady. The stock tickers downstairs hadn't stopped stuttering all afternoon.
Speaker 1: Men who usually laughed too loudly were speaking in low voices.
Speaker 1: Phones were busy. Papers were being folded and unfolded, as
Speaker 1: if the numbers might change if handled carefully enough. Papa
Speaker 1: had been on the telephone twice before dinner, once with
Speaker 1: New York, once with Chicago. Both calls ended the same way,
Speaker 1: with silence stretching too long on the line, and his
Speaker 1: voice afterward clipped and tired, like a man counting losses
Speaker 1: he didn't want to name. Yet Wall Street was misbehaving,
Speaker 1: they said, a correction, a tremor, nothing to panic over. Still,
Speaker 1: the word loss had crept into conversation where it didn't belong.
Speaker 1: Thankfully we had the hotel. That was what everyone kept saying.
Speaker 1: Railroads might wobble, markets might fall, But the ever Lay
Speaker 1: stood solid, brick and marble, and reputation rooms booked months out,
Speaker 1: cash flowing, no matter what madness the papers were printing,
Speaker 1: whatever was happening out there, this place was supposed to
Speaker 1: be safe, and yet I told myself that's why I
Speaker 1: was restless. I was twenty nine years old, unmarried, and
Speaker 1: increasingly spoken about as if those two facts required explanation.
Speaker 1: Everyone meant well, they always did, but lately every conversation
Speaker 1: seemed to circle the same unspoken question, how long I
Speaker 1: intended to go on like this? As if freedom were
Speaker 1: a phase i'd overstayed. I wasn't opposed to marriage. I
Speaker 1: just wasn't convinced it was meant to feel like a solution.
Speaker 1: I was lucky. I knew that the hotel had raised
Speaker 1: me as much as my parents had. The staff had
Speaker 1: watched me grow up, scraped knees and all, and treated
Speaker 1: me like something precious instead of something overdue that counted
Speaker 1: for a great deal. Whatever Wall Street was doing, I
Speaker 1: wasn't about to let it touch me. Not tonight, I
Speaker 1: never do. I was up in my suite, top floor,
Speaker 1: marble floors, cool underfoot, silk drapes that cost more than
Speaker 1: most people's rent of Victrola spinning Rhapsody in Blue. When
Speaker 1: I decided to go down and dance. I slipped into
Speaker 1: my little black dress and let my solid gold family
Speaker 1: heirloom necklace catch the light like spilled coins. Grandfather always
Speaker 1: called it a family heirloom, but I knew better. It
Speaker 1: was just pretty, and I liked how it felt against
Speaker 1: my skin when I moved. As I stepped onto the stairs,
Speaker 1: Missus Callahan, who had been pressing linens in this hotel
Speaker 1: longer than I'd been alive, looked up and smiled. You're
Speaker 1: a vision this evening, Miss Eve Angeline, She said, thank you,
Speaker 1: I replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. You'll tell
Speaker 1: me if I'm scandalous, won't you? She sniffed. If I
Speaker 1: had a dollar for every time you'd be married already,
Speaker 1: we both laughed. I was flouncing down the mezzanine on
Speaker 1: my way to the dance hall when Papa appeared at
Speaker 1: the far end, already half way up from the lobby,
Speaker 1: jacket still on ty loosened. His steps were quick, distracted,
Speaker 1: we crossed paths without slowing. He glanced at me just once.
Speaker 1: This isn't the night for theatrics of Angeline, he said, quietly,
Speaker 1: already moving past me toward the stairs. Of course, Papa
Speaker 1: I stopped. He didn't. At the bottom of the mezzanine,
Speaker 1: James at the front desk, caught my eye and tipped
Speaker 1: his head respectful as always, evening, miss Everleigh, Good evening, James,
Speaker 1: I said, smiling, Try not to let the world end
Speaker 1: without telling me. He smiled back, just a little strained.
Speaker 1: I'll do my best, Miss I, lifted my chin and
Speaker 1: kept going. Then he walked in like someone who already
Speaker 1: belonged somewhere better. Tall, slicked hair, impeccably tailored, three piece
Speaker 1: deep navy suit, impossibly clean emerald green pocket square, folded,
Speaker 1: sharp enough to kill with a matching tie. The kind
Speaker 1: of man who looks like his shoes cost more than
Speaker 1: most people's apartments and doesn't need to mention it. He
Speaker 1: moved with the quiet assurance of a man who'd made
Speaker 1: serious money and, judging by the night, had probably lo
Speaker 1: lost a little of it, but still carried himself like
Speaker 1: the room belonged to him. Handsome in the expensive way,
Speaker 1: the kind of confidence that only comes with heavy sugar
Speaker 1: in the bank. Loaded, My kind of loaded. The sort
Speaker 1: of man who doesn't need to shout to be noticed,
Speaker 1: who could buy the whole juice joint just to get
Speaker 1: a girl's attention and then actually do it. I didn't
Speaker 1: know his name, but my pulse gave a little jazz
Speaker 1: drum flutter. Anyway, He's a proper big cheese, I thought,
Speaker 1: a real chic, with pockets deep enough to make even
Speaker 1: me take notice. I followed him through the lobby. We
Speaker 1: came face to face for just a second, though I
Speaker 1: doubted he noticed me. He was even better up close,
Speaker 1: not just handsome, composed, a face built for portraits, clean jawline,
Speaker 1: dark lashes, lips that didn't smile unless they meant it.
Speaker 1: He had that look certain men carry, the kind who
Speaker 1: know exactly what they're worth and never explain themselves. I
Speaker 1: wasn't used to being the one watching. But this man,
Speaker 1: this man I wanted to memorize. He turned and made
Speaker 1: his way toward the velvet curtain by the service bar,
Speaker 1: the one no one used anymore. Naturally, I followed him,
Speaker 1: not that I made a scene. I didn't rush. I
Speaker 1: never rush. I took my time, drifting in his wake,
Speaker 1: with a smile that meant nothing and eyes that meant plenty.
Speaker 1: He cut through the curtain into that hallway. When he
Speaker 1: slipped past the velvet rope into the service corridor, the
Speaker 1: part of the hotel Grandfather had forbidden since I could toddle.
Speaker 1: I hesitated for exactly three seconds. Stay out of the
Speaker 1: old wing they drilled into me. Nothing good down there.
Speaker 1: Dangerous fear always tasted like excitement to me, especially when
Speaker 1: it came wrapped in a mystery like him. Then I
Speaker 1: stepped through. I trailed him at a distance, my heels
Speaker 1: silent on the carpeted back halls. He never looked back.
Speaker 1: The service corridor behind the curtain was narrow and dim,
Speaker 1: lined with old crown molding, warped by time and steam.
Speaker 1: The wallpaper had once been gold and cream stripes, now faded.
Speaker 1: I passed a rusting service bell mounted on the wall,
Speaker 1: and a door labeled Linens in flaked paint. At the
Speaker 1: end of the hallway, a sliver of brass glinted through
Speaker 1: a half cracked door. I pushed it open. It led
Speaker 1: to the real, forgotten part of the hotel. The bones
Speaker 1: of the building, brick walls, cool and damp to the top,
Speaker 1: much an old maintenance passage they must have built before
Speaker 1: the war, with gas lamp sconces, never wired for electricity,
Speaker 1: bare floor dust thick enough to hush my steps. A
Speaker 1: place for staff no one trusted upstairs, a place for secrets,
Speaker 1: and there it was the staircase, not the iron elevator
Speaker 1: I'd ridden as a girl on dares. No, that was
Speaker 1: upstairs for servants and supplies. This was different, A narrow,
Speaker 1: black mouthed flight of stone steps, spiraling down into nothing,
Speaker 1: no railing worth, trusting, no light except the faint spill
Speaker 1: from the corridor bulb behind me. Papa could warn me
Speaker 1: all he wanted about staying to the lighted halls, but
Speaker 1: the truth was I hadn't set foot on those stairs
Speaker 1: since I was twelve. I'd broken my ankle tumbling down
Speaker 1: them in the dark, biting back screams so the staff
Speaker 1: wouldn't tattle, kept the limp secret for weeks, limping through
Speaker 1: tea dances like it was just a new flapper step.
Speaker 1: That staircase was a descent into hell. For all I knew,
Speaker 1: I wasn't going down there again, not ever, except here.
Speaker 1: I was fear vanished the moment I saw him disappear
Speaker 1: over the edge, replaced by a queer thrill, curiosity, desire,
Speaker 1: the thrill of chasing a man who looked like he
Speaker 1: could buy the whole damn hotel and still have change
Speaker 1: for champagne. Whatever it was, It was the cat's pajamas,
Speaker 1: and it burned hotter than any fear I've ever known.
Speaker 1: I waited and slipped a compact from the black beaded
Speaker 1: pochette hanging from a gold chain, looped through the velvet
Speaker 1: sash at my hip, lipstick perfect. The catch clicked shut
Speaker 1: with a whisper. A lady knows how to be ready
Speaker 1: for anything. I waited ten heartbeats, then followed down. I went,
Speaker 1: one careful step after another, the stone cold through my
Speaker 1: thin soles. The air grew thick, damp, and tasted faintly
Speaker 1: of rust and cold iron, a forgotten metallic scent from
Speaker 1: pipes that had long stopped running. The single bare bulb
Speaker 1: overhead swung lazily, throwing long shadows that danced like drunken
Speaker 1: flappers on the brick walls. Each step echoed just enough
Speaker 1: to make my pulse race faster. The hallway was dim, still,
Speaker 1: the kind of quiet that accelerates your heart beat. At
Speaker 1: the end, the tiny square room, empty bare walls. He
Speaker 1: was already inside. The door hadn't closed behind him, it
Speaker 1: hung open. I stepped quietly up to the threshold, just
Speaker 1: far enough to see but not be seen. One metal
Speaker 1: panel flush in the far wall, shaped exactly like a door.
Speaker 1: No handle on the side, a keypad of ten brass buttons,
Speaker 1: no labels, just numbers, worn smooth. He reached for one.
Speaker 1: His hand hesitated, then pressed seven. His head turned slightly,
Speaker 1: just a flick, enough that I felt it. He sensed
Speaker 1: I was there, but didn't want to know. He wanted
Speaker 1: to get where he was going fast. My breath caught.
Speaker 1: I pressed myself gently back against the wall, careful not
Speaker 1: to lose sight of his hand. But he didn't look back,
Speaker 1: just stood there, waiting. The panel shimmered, a wild spectrum
Speaker 1: of colors. A low static crackle filled the air. The
Speaker 1: metal rippled, became a curtain of shimmering light, like heat
Speaker 1: rising off Lake Michigan in July. But alive. He stepped
Speaker 1: through the shimmer swallowed him whole, then faded back to
Speaker 1: dull steel. I stood frozen in the doorway. Grandfather had
Speaker 1: called it the trap door. He said, some treasures are
Speaker 1: meant to be kept, not passed through. That door is
Speaker 1: a golden trap, waiting for a soul that has nothing
Speaker 1: left to lose. But my parents had changed the subject.
Speaker 1: Fear had kept me away until now I waited a minute,
Speaker 1: long enough for my pulse to steady. Then stepped to
Speaker 1: the keypad. My finger hovered, I pressed seven, same as him.
Speaker 1: The shimmer returned, and my heart pounded. I stepped forward. Poof.
Speaker 1: It hit like nothing I'd ever felt. My entire body vibrated,
Speaker 1: bones rattling, skin tingling. My gold necklace burned against my
Speaker 1: skin like fire. Every nerve danced, shook, shimmered in a
Speaker 1: wave that started at my toes and exploded through my chest.
Speaker 1: I was terrifying, it was exquisite. It lasted forever and
Speaker 1: no time at all. Then silence. I stood in the
Speaker 1: same tiny room. The panel was metal again, inert. The
Speaker 1: keypad waited, no sign of the man. I exhaled, smoothed
Speaker 1: my dress. Well, that was something. I walked back up
Speaker 1: through the Devil's staircase, one heel in front of the other,
Speaker 1: like nothing had happened, Like I hadn't just shimmered through
Speaker 1: a door I wasn't supposed to know existed. I made
Speaker 1: my way through the side corridor where the staff once
Speaker 1: let me sneak bites of wedding cake from the kitchens,
Speaker 1: and slipped through the lobby like a woman between dreams.
Speaker 1: The hallway above was familiar at first, same same sleepy
Speaker 1: eyed sconces. But something was off. Grandfather's favorite painting was gone.
Speaker 1: The color of the runner rug had changed, and the
Speaker 1: silence wasn't rich anymore. It was empty. When I entered
Speaker 1: the lobby, it was unrecognizable. The sprawling marble was covered
Speaker 1: in a drab carpet, and the chandeliers were gone. I
Speaker 1: crossed through like I was a stranger in a strange dream,
Speaker 1: expecting eyes, smiles, a greeting by name. No one looked up.
Speaker 1: The front desk staff, not my staff, typed into some
Speaker 1: small glowing thing like it was sacred. The bellhop passed
Speaker 1: me without a nod. One of the maids glanced past
Speaker 1: me like I wasn't even there. Then the front door
Speaker 1: swung open wide, and there he was. For a heartbeat,
Speaker 1: the night framed him perfectly in the doorway, silhouette, sharp
Speaker 1: against the wild, bleeding glow of the street beyond, tall,
Speaker 1: still impeccably tailored, that same deep navy suit, the emerald
Speaker 1: pocket square, catching a flash of unnatural color from the
Speaker 1: lights outside. That man, the one I'd chased down the
Speaker 1: Devil's staircase and through the trap door. He stepped forward,
Speaker 1: shoulders set like a man who'd seen worse nights than
Speaker 1: this one. He paused just a fraction and looked around
Speaker 1: the lobby with the same quiet, bewilderment. I felt his
Speaker 1: gaze swept past the empty space and landed on me.
Speaker 1: Our eyes met across the lobby. No nod, no flicker
Speaker 1: of familiarity, just a sudden startled lock, his dark lashes
Speaker 1: widening for the barest instant, as if he'd seen a ghost.
Speaker 1: My own breath caught pulse, hammering like jazz drums in
Speaker 1: my chest. He didn't smile, didn't speak. He simply held
Speaker 1: the look a second longer than he should have, then
Speaker 1: turned and vanished into the dark beyond the doors. A
Speaker 1: bellhop brushed past me without a word. He didn't even glance.
Speaker 1: The doors were still drifting shut. I didn't wait for
Speaker 1: them to close. I ran, heels clicking sharp against the marble,
Speaker 1: little black dress whispering against my thighs, and pushed through
Speaker 1: after him. I stepped out. The air hit me like
Speaker 1: a slap. I stood on the sidewalk, if that's what
Speaker 1: they still called it, and tried to make sense of
Speaker 1: what I was seeing. The street was alive with color,
Speaker 1: not the muted grays and browns of my Chicago, but wild,
Speaker 1: electric hues that seemed to glow from within. Signs blazed
Speaker 1: in reds and blues and greens so vivid they hurt
Speaker 1: to look at, like someone had bottled lightning and trapped
Speaker 1: it in glass tubes. The cars were queer too. They
Speaker 1: glided past without sound, without the rumble of engines or
Speaker 1: the smell of gasoline, just silent, sleek shapes that moved
Speaker 1: like sharks through water. No horses, no carriages, no coal
Speaker 1: smoke or manure or the familiar stink of the city
Speaker 1: I knew. And the people, oh the people. Women walked
Speaker 1: past in trousers, not riding pants or some mannish costume,
Speaker 1: but actual trousers that clung to their legs like thick stockings,
Speaker 1: showing off every curve, every detail. Skinny girls with legs
Speaker 1: like colts, Curvy women whose hips swayed with each step.
Speaker 1: Even the heavier ones wore these strange, stretchy garments that
Speaker 1: hugged their thust eyes and calves like a second skin.
Speaker 1: I'd never seen so much female form on display outside
Speaker 1: a burlesque house. The men were just as peculiar. No hats,
Speaker 1: not a single fedora or bowler in sight. Their hair
Speaker 1: was wild, unstyled, some of it long enough to touch
Speaker 1: their collars. They wore jackets without proper structure, trousers that
Speaker 1: hung low on their hips, shoes that looked like they
Speaker 1: belonged in a gymnasium. And everyone, everyone stared down at
Speaker 1: little glowing rectangles in their hands, walking like sleepwalkers, eyes
Speaker 1: glued to those mysterious boxes, bumping into each other without
Speaker 1: apology or even acknowledgment. I scanned the crowd, searching for him,
Speaker 1: my mystery man. There half a block ahead, that same
Speaker 1: confident stride, the cut of his shoulders unmistakable even in
Speaker 1: this sea of strangers. I started after him, my heels
Speaker 1: clicking against the pavement, except they didn't click. The sound
Speaker 1: was muffled, distant, like I was walking on cotton instead
Speaker 1: of concrete. I looked down at my feet, watched my
Speaker 1: shoes make contact with the ground, but the sensation was off,
Speaker 1: like stepping on something that wasn't quite there. A woman
Speaker 1: in a bright pink coat walked straight toward me, her
Speaker 1: eyes glued to her glowing rectangle. Excuse me, miss I
Speaker 1: stepped aside, but she didn't move. I stepped further. She
Speaker 1: kept coming, miss oh God. Then the unfathomable. She walked
Speaker 1: through me, not past me, through me. The cold hit,
Speaker 1: like diving into Lake Michigan in January, a rush of
Speaker 1: ice that started at my chest and exploded outward. My
Speaker 1: breath caught, my vision blurred. For one terrible second. I
Speaker 1: felt her inside me, her warmth, her heart, her thoughts
Speaker 1: like radiostatic, I couldn't quite tune in. I smelled her perfume,
Speaker 1: something floral, felt her pulse faster than mine, tasted something
Speaker 1: sweet on her breath, like candy. Then she was gone,
Speaker 1: already ten paces ahead, still staring at her little box.
Speaker 1: I stood frozen. People flowing around me, like water around
Speaker 1: a stone, through me, past me, never seeing me. My
Speaker 1: hand flew to my chest, feeling for my heart beat
Speaker 1: there still there. But to them, I'm invisible. I am
Speaker 1: aren't I. I looked down at my hands. I could
Speaker 1: see them, see the gold necklace catching the light, see
Speaker 1: my little black dress, my shoes, everything exactly as it
Speaker 1: should be. But when I reached out to touch a
Speaker 1: lamp post, my fingers passed through the metal like smoke. No,
Speaker 1: I whispered, no, no, no. I tried again. A mail box,
Speaker 1: one of those blue metal boxes I didn't recognize. My
Speaker 1: hand went through it like it was made of fog.
Speaker 1: I couldn't touch anything. Ahead. My mystery man turned a corner,
Speaker 1: his navy suit, disappearing into the crowd. I ran after him,
Speaker 1: or tried to. My feet barely touched the ground. The
Speaker 1: sensation was all odd, like floating, like flying, like being
Speaker 1: carried by a current. I couldn't see. I moved faster
Speaker 1: than I should have been able to, closing the distance
Speaker 1: in seconds. He stopped at a corner, waiting for the
Speaker 1: silent cars to pass. I caught up breathless or was
Speaker 1: I did I even need to breathe? I stood beside him,
Speaker 1: close enough to touch, so enough to smell his cologne,
Speaker 1: expensive and manly. The scent hit me with overwhelming clarity,
Speaker 1: every note distinct and sharp. But then a man in
Speaker 1: a gray suit walked straight through him. The stranger. My
Speaker 1: stranger jerked back, his hand flying to his chest. His
Speaker 1: face went pale. He stumbled, caught himself against a lamp post,
Speaker 1: his hand passing through the metal just like mine had.
Speaker 1: He stared at his hand tried again. Nothing. Oh god,
Speaker 1: he whispered. He looked around wildly, his composure cracking. He
Speaker 1: reached for a woman passing by. His hand went through
Speaker 1: her shoulder. She shivered, pulled her coat tighter, kept walking.
Speaker 1: He tried the lamp post again, the mailbox, a car
Speaker 1: parked at the curb. Nothing, all of it. Nothing, No,
Speaker 1: he said, his voice rough, No, this isn't. He looked
Speaker 1: down at himself, at his perfect navy suit, his emerald
Speaker 1: pocket square, his polished shoes. Then he looked up at
Speaker 1: the street, at the impossible future we'd landed in. I
Speaker 1: saw it the exact moment he understood the same epiphany
Speaker 1: I had just moments before him. We weren't in our
Speaker 1: world anymore. We weren't even in our bodies. He started
Speaker 1: walking again, faster now, his movements jerky and desperate. He
Speaker 1: turned down a side street than another, moving deeper into neighborhoods.
Speaker 1: I didn't recognize. The buildings were taller here, sleeker, made
Speaker 1: of glass and steel that reflected the city back at
Speaker 1: itself in fractured pieces. I followed my feet, barely touching
Speaker 1: the ground. He stopped in front of a tower that
Speaker 1: stretched up into the night sky, its windows glowing like
Speaker 1: a hundred tiny moons. He stood there for a long moment,
Speaker 1: staring up at it. Then he reached into his vest
Speaker 1: pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch. He flipped
Speaker 1: open the cover. He shook it gently, pressed the stem,
Speaker 1: tried to wind it. His shoulders sagged just a fraction,
Speaker 1: just enough for me to see the exhaustion beneath the
Speaker 1: polish Where are we, he said quietly to himself, to
Speaker 1: the night, to no one. I don't know, I answered,
Speaker 1: even though he wasn't listening to me, or couldn't hear me.
Speaker 1: I wasn't sure, but I'm here too. You're not alone.
Speaker 1: He snapped the watch shut, pocketed it, and turned scanning
Speaker 1: the street. His eyes passed over me again. Can you
Speaker 1: see me, I whispered. He didn't please, I said louder, please.
Speaker 1: I know you can see me in the lobby. You
Speaker 1: looked right at me nothing. His jaw was tight, his
Speaker 1: eyes scanning the street like he was searching for something
Speaker 1: or someone. He looked around at the people, at the buildings,
Speaker 1: at the space I occupied, but his gaze slid past
Speaker 1: me like I was made of glass. Then a woman
Speaker 1: walked past and I nearly forgot to breathe first. I
Speaker 1: was absolutely zazzled by how she was talking to herself
Speaker 1: out loud. She was holding one of those rectangle boxes
Speaker 1: in her hand that glowed like a tiny luminous radio.
Speaker 1: But what truly had me gasped her dress. It clung
Speaker 1: to her like a wet rag, hugging every inch of
Speaker 1: her figure. In my time, we wanted to look like boys, straight,
Speaker 1: flats and free. We were dancing the Charleston, not showing
Speaker 1: off curves. I adjusted my little black dress, giving a
Speaker 1: discreete tug on the boyish form corset underneath. We all
Speaker 1: wore them. Every curvy girl did the Garson, we called it.
Speaker 1: But this dame, she was flaunting curves that would have
Speaker 1: made a burlesque queen blush. Now her chest was practically
Speaker 1: spilling out of the low cut neckline. The swell of
Speaker 1: her breasts pushed up and together in a way that
Speaker 1: made my own boyish form binder feel positively modest. Where
Speaker 1: was the elastic webbing to flatten the tummy? Where was
Speaker 1: the binder to take down the chest and hide the
Speaker 1: form of her nipples? Her legs were bare and gleaming
Speaker 1: oiled or lotion to catch the light. She looked like
Speaker 1: a statue of modern sin and not a stalking insight.
Speaker 1: I thought we were scandalous, but these girls are walking
Speaker 1: around in their lingerie. I glanced at him. His eyes
Speaker 1: weren't just following her, they were anchored to her wide
Speaker 1: and startled, as if he'd just seen a ghost, a
Speaker 1: far more solid one than me. A hot, sharp prick
Speaker 1: of jealousy stung my chest. Is that what he wants?
Speaker 1: I wondered, my fingers twitching against the silk of my
Speaker 1: own skirt. If I unlaced the side straps, if I
Speaker 1: let the flattening bandeaux go and allowed my own concealed
Speaker 1: figure to breathe, would he look at me like that?
Speaker 1: Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, her
Speaker 1: lips painted dark and wet, her eyes lined in black
Speaker 1: that made her look dangerous and exotic, the kind of
Speaker 1: girl they warned you not to become, and secretly envied
Speaker 1: all the same. She looked like she was headed to
Speaker 1: a blind pig to dance with the devil. And no one,
Speaker 1: not a single person, not even the bulls, batted an eye.
Speaker 1: But my mystery man was absolutely captivated for the first
Speaker 1: time since nineteen twenty nine, I felt like I was
Speaker 1: the one wearing a costume. I looked down at myself,
Speaker 1: wondering if I should unhook my binder. My mystery man's
Speaker 1: eyes followed her, widening slightly. Then she walked straight through him.
Speaker 1: He gasped, stumbling back. His hand flew to his chest.
Speaker 1: For a moment, he just stood there, breathing hard, staring
Speaker 1: after her as she disappeared into the crowd. Then he
Speaker 1: shook his head once, as if clearing it, and kept walking.
Speaker 1: Instead of continuing toward the tower or the endless street,
Speaker 1: he made his way to a narrow storefront just a
Speaker 1: few paces away. Its wide windows blazed with light so
Speaker 1: fierce and many colored, it seemed to pulse like a
Speaker 1: living thing. Reds bleeding into violent purples, purples into indigo,
Speaker 1: than green, then yellow, than orange, pink so bright they
Speaker 1: stung the eyes, all smashed together a gaudy rainbow of
Speaker 1: dazzling light. The whole storefront looked like a carnival had
Speaker 1: mated with a bordello and produced something tawdry and shameless, cheap, alarming,
Speaker 1: And yet the colors pulled at something low in my belly.
Speaker 1: It was fascinating, to say the least. A sign above
Speaker 1: the door glowed in bold letters, adult books and videos
Speaker 1: open all night, books and videos harmless enough, one might think,
Speaker 1: only they weren't. Through the great sheets of glass, I
Speaker 1: could see everything laid out like wares in a bazaar
Speaker 1: of sin. He hesitated at the threshold, shoulders rigid, and
Speaker 1: stood there staring through the glass. His jaw had gone slack.
Speaker 1: His hand moved to his collar, loosening his tie just
Speaker 1: a fraction. Then he stepped inside. I hesitated just for
Speaker 1: a heartbeat. A lady didn't enter places like this. A
Speaker 1: lady didn't even acknowledge places like this existed. But I
Speaker 1: wasn't a lady anymore, was I? I was a ghost,
Speaker 1: and ghosts didn't have reputations to protect. I followed him
Speaker 1: through the door. The inside was worse or better, I
Speaker 1: couldn't decide. The walls were painted the color of cheap wine,
Speaker 1: and the light inside wasn't proper lighting at all, but
Speaker 1: a sultry red that cast everything in the shade of
Speaker 1: a crime. Shelves of bottles and boxes, all of them
Speaker 1: promising things no decent pharmacist would stalk, not like the
Speaker 1: plain brown paper wrapped parcels discreetly passed under the counter
Speaker 1: back home, the kind you had to ask for in
Speaker 1: a hushed whisper. Then more rows of metal shelves in
Speaker 1: a dizzying ryot. It was a dime store or a
Speaker 1: druggist's display gone absolutely mad marital aids. I suppose devices,
Speaker 1: objects shaped like well, like bootleg parts of the male anatomy,
Speaker 1: only larger and made of some strange silky smooth material
Speaker 1: that caught the light, like polish satin, not the dull,
Speaker 1: hard rubber. I remembered my aunt whispering about absolutely fascinating,
Speaker 1: and the pictures photographs of women in positions that would
Speaker 1: have gotten them pinched faster than a bootlegger, naked, brazen,
Speaker 1: doing things with men with other women with themselves, and
Speaker 1: then men with other men doing the pansy all out
Speaker 1: in the open. Rows of little boxes lined the walls,
Speaker 1: their covers showing women in poses no painter of virtue
Speaker 1: would ever dare capture legs, spread, mouths open, Oh, the
Speaker 1: sheer hooy of decency. In this era, covers displayed on
Speaker 1: racks showed couples and acts too raw for even the
Speaker 1: wildest speakeasy I had to look away, then look back,
Speaker 1: then look away again. There were bottles of every shape,
Speaker 1: things shaped unmistakably like the male member, arranged in neat rows,
Speaker 1: like obscene candelabras, leather straps, handcuffs polished to a wicked shine,
Speaker 1: and more phallicies everywhere, all shapes and sizes and colors,
Speaker 1: some the size of my forearm. It was the most
Speaker 1: ungentlemanly display I've ever seen. A girl no older than
Speaker 1: twenty five leaned over the counter, laughing with the clerk
Speaker 1: while she tested the weight of a purple doudad in
Speaker 1: her palm. She gave it a stroke, the way a
Speaker 1: woman might test the ripeness of a banana, and the
Speaker 1: clerk grinned like it was the most natural thing in
Speaker 1: the world. The stranger moved through the aisles slowly, his
Speaker 1: eyes wide, his composure completely shattered. He reached out to
Speaker 1: touch one of the devices, his hand passing through it
Speaker 1: like smoke. He tried again. Nothing. I tailed close enough
Speaker 1: that I could hear him, but distant enough that it
Speaker 1: wasn't obvious I was following him. Christ he muttered under
Speaker 1: his breath, What kind of world is this? He turned
Speaker 1: down another aisle, and I followed, keeping my distance, staying
Speaker 1: in the shadows. That's when I saw the back of
Speaker 1: the store, a hallway, a sign above it. In those
Speaker 1: same garish lights privit viewing rooms, a man walked out.
Speaker 1: He was flushed, hair musked, shirt untucked just enough to
Speaker 1: look guilty. He adjusted his belt, glanced around, then hurried
Speaker 1: past the counter and out the door. As he passed,
Speaker 1: I heard it from that hallway someone was putting on
Speaker 1: a show and trying very hard not to be heard.
Speaker 1: Another went in, coins clinking into a machine. Just inside
Speaker 1: one of the doors. The red light above booth four
Speaker 1: flicked on again. I couldn't tear my gaze away. I
Speaker 1: should have been horrified. I was horrified. The whole thing
Speaker 1: was a real wet blanket on romance. But the horror
Speaker 1: tasted exactly like desire. I understood then, whatever was behind
Speaker 1: those doors, they were not just for watching, they were
Speaker 1: for doing. Was it some sort of a tawdry, cheap
Speaker 1: version of a petting party taken to some morbid extreme?
Speaker 1: I he was extremely curious. Well, if I was being
Speaker 1: honest with myself, this part of the place gave me
Speaker 1: the he begbis my mystery man stared at the hallway
Speaker 1: for a long moment, then he walked toward it. It
Speaker 1: seemed we shared the same carnal curiosity. It was narrow
Speaker 1: lined with small doors. Each one had a number and
Speaker 1: a coin slot. Little red lights glowed above each door,
Speaker 1: like the indicator lamps on a hotel switchboard. One blinked on,
Speaker 1: another went dark. Just before he reached them, another man
Speaker 1: pasted him in a black hooded jacket, head down, shoulders hunched,
Speaker 1: like he'd done this before but didn't want to be recognized.
Speaker 1: He moved quickly, like someone with a habit. The man
Speaker 1: chose a door near the end, slipped inside. The red
Speaker 1: light above it flicked on. My mystery man paused, then
Speaker 1: followed and went straight through the door. And I stood
Speaker 1: in the hallway, heart caught somewhere between my corset and
Speaker 1: my throat. I didn't know what to do, but I
Speaker 1: wanted to see, needed to. But what if my mystery
Speaker 1: man saw me. I still didn't know if he could
Speaker 1: or not. So I did what any good ghost does.
Speaker 1: I did the unthinkable. I got down on my knees,
Speaker 1: leaned forward, and pressed my head through the door, like
Speaker 1: a sinner at a confessional. Half expecting judgment to strike me.
Speaker 1: Where I knelt. The sensation was cold and strange, like
Speaker 1: being suspended between the solid and the air. I was
Speaker 1: certain I'd chosen the one angle where he wouldn't see me.
Speaker 1: The room was small, claustrophobic. The air inside had a
Speaker 1: stench hot used, and although it was unsavory, I was
Speaker 1: glad to have that sense intact. There was one bench,
Speaker 1: one glowing pane of glass on the wall, one small
Speaker 1: table with a box of disposable napkins, and a large
Speaker 1: wastebasket that made my stomach twist when I understood what
Speaker 1: they were for. Then suddenly the glass frame on the
Speaker 1: wall flared to life, living pictures in full color. How
Speaker 1: could this be so vivid, so real? And the sound,
Speaker 1: my god, the sound. At first I saw a woman
Speaker 1: in a coat step into a room with a group
Speaker 1: of men. Then the woman dropped the coat and stood
Speaker 1: stark naked before them. Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle.
Speaker 1: Not even the speakeasy girls showed this much. And one
Speaker 1: by one the men slid open those fasteners on their trousers,
Speaker 1: revealing their credentials. My first thought, good, heavens, are those
Speaker 1: metal fasteners on their trousers. They didn't even have to
Speaker 1: unbutton them one by one. What kind of fast, living, brazen,
Speaker 1: scandalous world is this. They stood in a circle around her,
Speaker 1: and they began touching themselves. They were playing a game
Speaker 1: of lone hand spooning, but with a cold, desperate rhythm
Speaker 1: that had no joy in it. It wasn't at all
Speaker 1: like a petting party. No, it was a slow motion
Speaker 1: Barney mugging of their own limbs, beating their own meat.
Speaker 1: I'd heard the rougher Fellas say that, but never understood
Speaker 1: the hollow sound of it until now Heaven to Betsy
Speaker 1: it was too vivid. Talkies were one thing, but this,
Speaker 1: this was the absolute berries of filth, a real sock
Speaker 1: dolager of a scandal played out in screaming color. The
Speaker 1: sound was a hollow, desperate noise, like some beating a rug,
Speaker 1: lacking all the joy of a real speakeasy petting party.
Speaker 1: And the man, the living man, was seated already watching
Speaker 1: the picture show hood back now, trousers open, one hand
Speaker 1: braced on his knee, the other moving. I'd heard the
Speaker 1: phrase taking matters into one's own hands, but I'd never
Speaker 1: imagined it meant this, not like this, And there, just
Speaker 1: beyond the threshold stood my mystery man, still quiet, transfixed,
Speaker 1: not a muscle moving, taking it all in with a
Speaker 1: high hat composure, watching the screen, watching him. He watched
Speaker 1: with the stillness of a man not just observing pleasure,
Speaker 1: but remembering it, longing for it. His jaw flexed, his
Speaker 1: hand curled slightly. The woman laid down, legs o and wide,
Speaker 1: touching herself for the circle of men. I should have
Speaker 1: looked away, but I didn't. And then the shock, the horror.
Speaker 1: They creamed all over her. Oh God, the poor woman,
Speaker 1: what a nightmare. They spoiled her with their filthy, cold seed,
Speaker 1: a scene straight from the gutter. But the man on
Speaker 1: the bench stroked himself furiously at the sight of this.
Speaker 1: My mystery man turned to stare at this man in
Speaker 1: the bald headed row, not all the way, just enough
Speaker 1: I could see his profile. Understanding dawned horribly on his face.
Speaker 1: Good God, he whispered, this is where they where men
Speaker 1: come to. The whole place is a dirty flicker house.
Speaker 1: It's too much to take in. And me, my head
Speaker 1: was still peeking through the bottom of the door, not
Speaker 1: blinking and not entirely innocent. Anymore. It was clear he
Speaker 1: was about to storm out, so I slipped out of
Speaker 1: that hallway first. A few seconds later he was coming
Speaker 1: out of the hallway. He looked around in a daze,
Speaker 1: half smile of amusement, half shock of disbelief and repulsion.
Speaker 1: I knew the look because I felt it too. His
Speaker 1: voice was rough, nearly a whisper. They sell it like
Speaker 1: cigarettes now. And then his eyes found me, not as
Speaker 1: a spirit, not as the woman who chased him through
Speaker 1: the trap door, as a living woman standing in the
Speaker 1: aisle in a little black dress. He saw me for
Speaker 1: one heartbeat, his composure shuddered, his dark lashes widened, his
Speaker 1: lips parted. He muttered under his breath so low I
Speaker 1: barely caught it. God Almighty, A lady like that, in
Speaker 1: a place like this. His gaze raked over me, head
Speaker 1: to toe, lingering in ways no gentleman should. His jaw tightened,
Speaker 1: his hand curled into a fist at his side, then
Speaker 1: barely a whisper, rough and raw. What I wouldn't give.
Speaker 1: I stayed perfectly still, letting him indulge, letting the desire
Speaker 1: in his eyes burn through me. A low, aching phantom
Speaker 1: throb started between my legs and spread upward. I wanted
Speaker 1: to touch myself. I wanted him to touch me. I
Speaker 1: wanted to drag him back into one of those little
Speaker 1: rooms and find out exactly how much two lost souls
Speaker 1: could do to each other without ever truly touching the world.
Speaker 1: But I had never been with a man, and when
Speaker 1: I saw him back at the hotel in nineteen twenty nine,
Speaker 1: I felt this overwhelming desire for him in that way.
Speaker 1: Suddenly he jerked his gaze away from me, a stone
Speaker 1: cold look of remorse flashing across his face. Damn it,
Speaker 1: What in the hell did I do? He whispered, dragging
Speaker 1: a hand through his hair and turning on his heel.
Speaker 1: He walked out fast, almost fleeing. I followed, body alight
Speaker 1: with a need so fierce it felt like fire. The
Speaker 1: memory of his words looped in my mind, intoxicating. He
Speaker 1: didn't look back, but I'd seen the hunger he tried
Speaker 1: so hard to hide, and he saw mine. He just
Speaker 1: didn't know I could see him, yet, without so much
Speaker 1: as a backward glance, he stepped back out into the
Speaker 1: night and turned the way we'd come back, toward the hotel,
Speaker 1: and I followed. He walked with purpose now, his stride
Speaker 1: quick and determined, like a man who'd made a decision
Speaker 1: and wouldn't be swayed from it. But then he stopped.
Speaker 1: I kneeled down beside a parked car and watch where
Speaker 1: I couldn't be seen. A metal box stood on the corner,
Speaker 1: glass fronted, filled with newspapers, the kind of thing I'd
Speaker 1: never seen before. No newsboy, no vendor, just paper stacked
Speaker 1: inside like they were selling themselves. He crouched down, peering
Speaker 1: through the glass. His hand reached out instinctively, then passed
Speaker 1: through the metal like smoke. He tried again. Nothing christ,
Speaker 1: he muttered, but he could still read the date printed
Speaker 1: at the top. I watched his face change, watched his
Speaker 1: jaw go slack. October twenty ninth, he whispered. Twenty twenty nine.
Speaker 1: He said it again, louder this time, like saying it
Speaker 1: twice might make it less true. Twenty twenty nine. One
Speaker 1: hundred years, A full century shifted forward. After we stepped
Speaker 1: through that trap door tonight. His eyes dropped to the headline,
Speaker 1: bold black letters screaming across the front page. One hundred
Speaker 1: years after the Great Crash, markets reach all time high.
Speaker 1: He stared at it for a long moment, then laughed,
Speaker 1: not a happy sound, a hollow, bitter thing that scraped
Speaker 1: out of his throat like broken glass. Hah, well, I'll
Speaker 1: be damned one hundred years, he said quietly. They called
Speaker 1: it the great crash. Huh, the great crash. He shook
Speaker 1: his head slowly, And here they are, all time high,
Speaker 1: like it never even mattered. He clenched his fist. I
Speaker 1: lost everything for nothing. I wanted to reach for him,
Speaker 1: to tell him he wasn't alone, but I couldn't speak,
Speaker 1: couldn't move, could only watch as he stood, shoulder set
Speaker 1: and turned back toward the hotel. There was a new
Speaker 1: speed in his step, now, urgency, purpose, like a man
Speaker 1: who just realized he was running out of time, even
Speaker 1: though time had already left him behind. I followed him,
Speaker 1: matching his pace, my feet barely touching the ground. We
Speaker 1: moved through the strange streets like the ghosts we were,
Speaker 1: and in no time at all, we were back at
Speaker 1: the hotel. Now we both knew the cruel truth, neither
Speaker 1: of us ignorant to our reality any longer. We were ghosts, spirits,
Speaker 1: whatever you wanted to call it, But we could still
Speaker 1: feel and if we could feel them, could we feel
Speaker 1: each other. He passed through the hotel doors like smoke,
Speaker 1: and I followed him into the lobby. He stopped in
Speaker 1: the center of the marble floor, turning in a slow circle,
Speaker 1: looking at the modern furniture, the strange glowing shadow boxes
Speaker 1: behind the front desk, the people who walked past him
Speaker 1: without a glance. Then he looked up straight at me,
Speaker 1: his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made
Speaker 1: my breath catch You, he said, and I heard him
Speaker 1: clear as a bell, the first voice that had reached
Speaker 1: me since I'd stepped through the trap door. Me, I said,
Speaker 1: my voice shaking. He took a step toward me, then another.
Speaker 1: You can see me, he asked, You can see me?
Speaker 1: I echoed back. We stood there, ten feet apart, staring
Speaker 1: at each other like we were the only real things
Speaker 1: left in the world, because we were. What happened to us?
Speaker 1: I don't know. His voice was rough, strained, but I
Speaker 1: think we're about to find out. He stared at me
Speaker 1: for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then something shifted,
Speaker 1: his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and when he spoke again,
Speaker 1: his voice was quieter, almost understanding what were you running from?
Speaker 1: He asked, I blinked. What the shimmy? He gestured vaguely
Speaker 1: behind us. No one uses that door unless they're desperate,
Speaker 1: unless they're running from something they can't face. His eyes
Speaker 1: searched mine, and I saw it. Then a flicker of kinship.
Speaker 1: So what was it? Debts, family, trouble, the crash, Oh,
Speaker 1: the shimmy, I echoed, softly, The words strange in my mouth,
Speaker 1: like borrowing someone else's slang. I paused. I wasn't running
Speaker 1: from anything. His brow furrowed. Then why'd you go through?
Speaker 1: I hesitated. I saw you in the lobby, and I
Speaker 1: followed you. The silence stretched between us. His expression shifted,
Speaker 1: confusion melting into realization, then flattery, a hint of a
Speaker 1: smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You followed me,
Speaker 1: he repeated, slowly, as if testing the words, delivering it
Speaker 1: like a death sentence. Through the basement, Through the shimmy,
Speaker 1: because I lifted my chin, refusing to look away, even
Speaker 1: as my cheeks burned, because I wanted to know where
Speaker 1: you were going. The smile broke through, just for a moment,
Speaker 1: warm and genuine, Then it faded as quickly as it
Speaker 1: came replaced by something darker, concern, guilt, anger, but not
Speaker 1: at himself, but at the situation. A woman chasing a
Speaker 1: man is never a good idea at all, he said quietly,
Speaker 1: especially not through cursed doors. He laughed, not loud or cruel,
Speaker 1: just a short, breathless sound that slipped out of him
Speaker 1: before he could stop it, disbelieving, almost incredulous, like the
Speaker 1: universe had just played a joke so elaborate it deserved applause.
Speaker 1: Then the laugh died. He looked at me properly for
Speaker 1: the first time, not as a curiosity or a mistake,
Speaker 1: but as a woman standing in front of him, dressed
Speaker 1: perfect and entirely wrong for the world we'd landed in,
Speaker 1: and something in his face shifted that looked like regret.
Speaker 1: His jaw tightened, his smile vanished. He dragged a hand
Speaker 1: through his hair and exhaled slowly, like a man taking
Speaker 1: response on'sibility, whether he wanted it or not. Do you
Speaker 1: realize what you've done? He asked. The tone wasn't angry,
Speaker 1: it was worse, the voice of a man who kept
Speaker 1: ledgers and balance sheets and never lost track of consequences.
Speaker 1: I I tried to answer, nothing came out. I opened
Speaker 1: my mouth again, My throat tightened, still nothing. Panic fluttered
Speaker 1: in my chest, hot and sudden. I shook my head,
Speaker 1: eyes stinging, the words piling up behind my teeth, with
Speaker 1: nowhere to go. His eyes narrowed slightly. Do you, he pressed,
Speaker 1: his stern tone escalating to a fever pitch. I swallowed,
Speaker 1: my hands curled at my sides. I nodded once, miserably,
Speaker 1: even though I wasn't sure I did. My vision blurred.
Speaker 1: I hated that, hated crying, especially in front of men
Speaker 1: like him. He stepped closer, just one careful step, as
Speaker 1: if he was afraid of spooking me, or of discovering
Speaker 1: something else had broken along with the world. I tried
Speaker 1: to speak again, failed, Tears spilled anyway, traders sliding down
Speaker 1: my cheeks. He sighed, sharp with frustration, not at me,
Speaker 1: I realized, but at himself. Damn it, he muttered. Then
Speaker 1: his hands were on me. He grasped my upper arms,
Speaker 1: just below my shoulders, fingers spreading instinctively, as if to
Speaker 1: steady me, as if to shake sense into me. Do you,
Speaker 1: he said again, softer? Now, do you understand that we
Speaker 1: might be trapped like this? Forever. The world stopped. I
Speaker 1: felt his hands, not the idea or a ghostly echo,
Speaker 1: his hands. I gasped. He froze, slowly, very slowly. His
Speaker 1: gaze dropped to where his fingers curved around my arms,
Speaker 1: where his thumbs pressed into my skin. I followed his stare.
Speaker 1: We stood there, staring at his hands like they were
Speaker 1: a miracle. Neither of us had ordered. I can his
Speaker 1: voice caught. He swallowed, I can feel you. My breath
Speaker 1: came out shaky. I can feel you too. A smile
Speaker 1: crept across his face before he could stop it, something
Speaker 1: boyish and stunned and dangerous. I can touch you, he said,
Speaker 1: almost to himself. Yes, I whispered, finally able to speak,
Speaker 1: you can. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the
Speaker 1: space between us, his hands still on my arms, my
Speaker 1: pulse jumping under his fingers, the impossible suddenly possible. His
Speaker 1: eyes lifted to mine, lit with something he hadn't planned
Speaker 1: on feeling tonight. Oh baby, he murmured, voice dropping without permission.
Speaker 1: I could just kiss you. The words landed between us
Speaker 1: like a spark. My phantom heart pounded. I tilted my
Speaker 1: chin up without thinking, why don't you he went utterly still. Then,
Speaker 1: before I realized it was happening, he reached for my
Speaker 1: hand and barely placed a kiss upon it, and then
Speaker 1: gently let it go. He stepped back, straightened his jacket
Speaker 1: smooth as cuffs, pulled himself together like a man snapping
Speaker 1: a spine back into place. His voice, when he spoke again,
Speaker 1: was polite and impeccably restrained. Well, he said, clearing his throat,
Speaker 1: because I should mine myself. I forgot how once already tonight,
Speaker 1: and I am sorry for that. He offered me a
Speaker 1: small apologetic smile, one that promised restraint now and trouble later.
Speaker 1: Then he inclined his head just enough to be proper.
Speaker 1: My name is Theodore, he said, Teddy, if you insist,
Speaker 1: And just like that, the game changed. Evangeline ever Lay,
Speaker 1: but call me Evie. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face.
Speaker 1: Huh ever Lay, as in I knew what he was asking,
Speaker 1: everyone always did. I tilted my head, let my smile turn.
Speaker 1: Knowing the Everlay Club, he had the decency not to
Speaker 1: look away. Well, I was going to say this hotel,
Speaker 1: but yes, yes, I've heard stories, of course, he did.
Speaker 1: The Everlay Club was Chicago's most notorious high class brothel
Speaker 1: at the turn of the century. Run by two elegant
Speaker 1: sisters who turned sin into something almost respectable. It thrived
Speaker 1: in the Levee district until the city shut it down
Speaker 1: in nineteen eleven. I'm sure you have, I said, aloud,
Speaker 1: voice light as champagne bubbles, distant cousins. Maybe, or maybe
Speaker 1: it's just in the blood. I paused, letting him sit
Speaker 1: with that image for a moment. But if you're wondering
Speaker 1: whichever lay, I am the hotel heiress not the other kind.
Speaker 1: Something shifted in his expression. I'd say he was intrigued.
Speaker 1: The hotel you own this place? My family? Does I
Speaker 1: just live here? I gestured vaguely upward. Penthouse Sweet that
Speaker 1: earned me a look the penthouse, he repeated, Of course
Speaker 1: you do. I suppose it's my turn, I said, with
Speaker 1: a smile, lashes lowering just a touch. And I realize
Speaker 1: I never asked, what is it you do, mister Theodore Banks,
Speaker 1: I paused as I met his eyes, then gently, and
Speaker 1: what's sent you through that door? He held my gaze
Speaker 1: a moment longer than politeness required. Then he nodded once,
Speaker 1: as if settling an account Chicago, he said. My interests
Speaker 1: are national, he exhaled lightly. But my base is here,
Speaker 1: rail steel, banking capital that moves through Chicago, whether New
Speaker 1: York likes it or not. A faint, knowing smile touched
Speaker 1: his mouth, especially this week. I didn't interrupt. Men talk
Speaker 1: when they're frightened, he said, and they've been frightened all weak.
Speaker 1: His eyes flicked briefly toward the deeper halls of the hotel.
Speaker 1: No one's even agreed on what to call it yet,
Speaker 1: a panic, a collapse. Some are already calling it the crash.
Speaker 1: He shook his head once. All I know is the
Speaker 1: market went to hell and the ticker couldn't keep up.
Speaker 1: I swallowed. My father's been the same on the telephone
Speaker 1: all afternoon, calling it a selling wave one moment, a
Speaker 1: panic the next. He keeps saying it will write itself,
Speaker 1: but he doesn't sound convinced. Teddy smiled. Just a little,
Speaker 1: a brief look of recognition passing between us. That's how
Speaker 1: it starts, he said, quietly. When men who've never doubted
Speaker 1: numbers begin doubting their own voices, he continued, they hinted
Speaker 1: at a way out, an impossible alternative to bankruptcy, not
Speaker 1: quite excise well. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. One
Speaker 1: man claimed he stepped through the shimmy as casually as
Speaker 1: a revolving door. My pulse quickened. He told you that,
Speaker 1: he bragged. Teddy said, men always do when they think
Speaker 1: they've beaten time itself. He paused, fiddling with his gold
Speaker 1: tie bar. He spoke of a future beyond scarcity, beyond oversight,
Speaker 1: a world where wealth isn't managed, it simply exists. And
Speaker 1: you believed him, I said, I listened. He corrected, there's
Speaker 1: a difference. His hand moved instinctively to his jacket pocket.
Speaker 1: He showed us proof fits in the hand. No wires,
Speaker 1: no keys, just a smooth, dark surface that lit from within.
Speaker 1: His brow furrowed slightly, a glowing window, like holding a
Speaker 1: city in your palm. I nodded, Yes, Those dew wangers
Speaker 1: seemed to be everywhere. Yes, he said quietly, exactly. Then,
Speaker 1: with an eerie pause, he looked around, then stared hard
Speaker 1: down at the ground. He told us, if we ever
Speaker 1: needed it, truly needed it, we were to find the
Speaker 1: door press seven. His mouth tightened. He made it sound
Speaker 1: indecently simple and tonight. I asked, tonight, he said. Men
Speaker 1: I've known since before the war, watched the Ticker steal
Speaker 1: their lives between luncheon and supper. He looked at me then,
Speaker 1: unable to hide the sadness in his eyes. So I
Speaker 1: went chasing a dream, he said, I smiled wistfully. I
Speaker 1: suppose I did the same, I admitted, while gazing adoringly
Speaker 1: into his eyes. He let out a low, surprised laugh.
Speaker 1: Ha ha, A dream, he repeated me. He shook his
Speaker 1: head once, still smiling. Well that's rather flattering. I felt
Speaker 1: my face revealing too much and looked away. Then he
Speaker 1: said quietly, I hope I live up to it. His
Speaker 1: gaze lingered. Come on all this way, he said, as
Speaker 1: he marched on toward the basement, and I kept up
Speaker 1: right by his side, back to the shimmy. Yes, we
Speaker 1: need to see if we can undo this mess. Something
Speaker 1: told me getting back wouldn't be as simple as walking
Speaker 1: through the door again. But another voice, deeper, louder in
Speaker 1: me thought, if I died and got to be stuck
Speaker 1: with him, so be it. It wasn't so bad, not
Speaker 1: bad at all. I glanced sideways at Teddy as we
Speaker 1: descended the service corridor again, His stride was purposeful, but
Speaker 1: there was a new tension in his shoulders, a faint
Speaker 1: jitter in the hand that brushed the wall and passed
Speaker 1: through it. He hadn't let go of my fingers, not fully.
Speaker 1: Our hands hovered near each other, not quite touching, but
Speaker 1: close enough that I could feel that low electric hum
Speaker 1: whenever our outlines drifted too near, like two tuning forks
Speaker 1: resonating in the same key. You're awfully quiet for a
Speaker 1: man who just discovered he's a ghost, I said, keeping
Speaker 1: my voice light, even though my own pulse or whatever
Speaker 1: ghost panic passed for one, was still hammering. He stopped
Speaker 1: at the top of the Devil's staircase. The black mouth
Speaker 1: of it yawned below us. Again. I'm a lucky man,
Speaker 1: he said, and quietly, Oh, how so, I stepped closer,
Speaker 1: close enough that the energy between us sharpened into a
Speaker 1: shiver that ran from my collar bone straight down to
Speaker 1: places I wasn't ready to name yet, Because he said softly,
Speaker 1: some men lose everything, and some find exactly what they
Speaker 1: weren't looking for. He glanced toward the staircase, then back
Speaker 1: at me. Come on, then, he said, his voice gentler.
Speaker 1: Now he moved past me toward the stairs, then stopped,
Speaker 1: looked back, extended his hand. Stay close. These steps are
Speaker 1: treacherous even when you can feel them. I looked at
Speaker 1: his outstretched hand, at the way the dim light caught
Speaker 1: the gold of his cuff links. Then I placed my
Speaker 1: hand in his. The electric tingle shot through both of
Speaker 1: us sharper, this time, more tense, like the shimmy itself
Speaker 1: had decided to live inside our skin. Treacherous, I agreed quietly,
Speaker 1: but at least were in it together. His fingers tightened
Speaker 1: just a fraction. I concur almost a smile. Let's see
Speaker 1: if the shimmy still wants us, shall we? He said?
Speaker 1: He started down the stairs. I followed the same careful steps,
Speaker 1: the same cold stone under shoes that didn't quite feel
Speaker 1: the impact. But this time I wasn't chasing a mystery.
Speaker 1: And if the door didn't open, well, I could live
Speaker 1: with that. Hell. I might even prefer it. We retraced
Speaker 1: our steps in silence, down the staircase and through the
Speaker 1: narrow brick hall, the little square room waiting at the
Speaker 1: end unchanged. Only now it looked less like hell and
Speaker 1: more like the only door left in the world. The
Speaker 1: first thing I did was reach for the shimmy. My
Speaker 1: hand stopped cold against the metal. I tried the keypad,
Speaker 1: same thing. I frowned, then turned and slid my fingers
Speaker 1: straight through the brick wall beside it, easy as breath.
Speaker 1: Did you see that, I said, softly, interesting, Yes, he murmured,
Speaker 1: my hand won't go through the shimmy. But that means
Speaker 1: I waited for him to finish my sentence. That means,
Speaker 1: he said, a note of something brighter creeping into his voice.
Speaker 1: There's hope. He gave me a look I was beginning
Speaker 1: to recognize, the one that meant the rules had just
Speaker 1: shifted in our favor. Then, without hesitation, he reached out
Speaker 1: and pressed seven, but nothing. We look at each other,
Speaker 1: then back at the keypad. Slowly, carefully, We pressed another,
Speaker 1: then another. We tried pairs, sequences, every combination that made sense,
Speaker 1: everyone that didn't. The panel stayed dull and lifeless. Teddy's
Speaker 1: face tightened for the first time since we'd met. He
Speaker 1: looked genuinely shaken. Calculations failing options thinning. Then the air changed.
Speaker 1: The panel shivered, Light rippled across the metal, A rainbow
Speaker 1: of colors shimmered. Our eyes widened and then Teddy grabbed
Speaker 1: my hand. Wait, he whispered, come here, stand behind me,
Speaker 1: just in case. He pulled me with him into the
Speaker 1: corner behind the open entry door, casting us into shadow.
Speaker 1: He placed himself before me, one hand still holding mine.
Speaker 1: We waited, his grip tightening. As the silence stretched, the
Speaker 1: light intensified. A figure stepped through. We squeezed each other's
Speaker 1: hands hard. Teddy lifted a finger to his lips. The
Speaker 1: man who emerged was well dressed, handsome, confident, smiling to
Speaker 1: himself as if pleased with the night. He didn't glance
Speaker 1: our way, didn't hesitate. He hurried out of the room
Speaker 1: and up the corridor, solid as anything. Teddy leaned close,
Speaker 1: his voice barely a breath. That's him. We followed silently.
Speaker 1: He passed through the lobby and headed straight for the
Speaker 1: hotel bar, took a seat, ordered a drink, And that
Speaker 1: was when we knew he made it and we didn't.
Speaker 1: I felt Teddy's hand tighten around mine, his grip almost painful.
Speaker 1: That son of a bitch, he huffed, Calvin Decatur, Teddy murmured.
Speaker 1: We called him the calculator. Everyone thought he'd beat in
Speaker 1: the market. Turns out he'd beaten time the shimmies. His
Speaker 1: hedge hah, thinks he's some big shot wise guy. Now,
Speaker 1: we watched the man who'd let us hear lift his
Speaker 1: glass to the air itself, Calvin de Kater alive in
Speaker 1: every way. We weren't you think he knew, I whispered,
Speaker 1: he knew what would happen to you? Teddy's jaw worked,
Speaker 1: his eyes, never leaving the figure at the bar. He
Speaker 1: told me it was simple, press seven, step through, start over.
Speaker 1: His voice was flat controlled, but I heard the fury
Speaker 1: beneath it. He didn't mention the part where you end
Speaker 1: up a goddamn ghost. I watched the man's signal for
Speaker 1: another drink, watched the bartender gnad and pour, watched him
Speaker 1: settle into his seat like a man who owned the world.
Speaker 1: What do we do? Teddy was quiet for a long moment.
Speaker 1: Then he turned to face me. The anger in his
Speaker 1: eyes had shifted into something sharper and more dangerous. We
Speaker 1: watch him, he said, We learn what he knows, and
Speaker 1: we figure out how the hell he made it through
Speaker 1: when we didn't. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, a
Speaker 1: small gesture, but it soothed me, And then a smile
Speaker 1: touched the corner of his mouth like a man on
Speaker 1: a mission, and then he said quietly, we get our
Speaker 1: lives back bound between the past that shaped us and
Speaker 1: the future that unmade us. We refuse to fade