Jayden barely slept that night. The wind rattled the loose window in his bedroom, the radiator hissed unevenly, and downstairs, someone's television played late-night reruns. Chicago breathed through the walls in a way that usually soothed him, but tonight, nothing could quiet the thrum beneath his ribs.
"Someone wants to meet you."
Elliot's words kept looping like a restless melody. He stared at the card on his nightstand: simple, silver, elegant. E. Mercer. Just that. No company. No title. No tagline.
The mystery of it made his stomach twist with curiosity and something dangerously close to fear. Important people always had more printed on their cards than their own names; he wondered what kind of man carried a card like that.
But morning arrived whether he was ready or not.
The next day was bitterly cold, wind slicing through the South Side like invisible glass. Jayden bundled himself in two hoodies beneath his winter coat and tucked the broken violin case under his arm. It felt wrong to leave it behind, even though he couldn't play it now—like abandoning a part of himself.
He met Elliot near the bus stop on 63rd, where they'd first spoken. The man stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the street with a calmness Jayden couldn't imagine having at any age.
"You ready?" Elliot asked.
Jayden nodded, though he wasn't sure he was ready for anything at all.
They took the train instead of the bus, the clatter of wheels on tracks echoing through the car as they traveled north toward downtown. Jayden watched the neighborhoods change outside the window: the older brick flats giving way to newer condos, corner stores replaced by coffee shops with chalkboard menus, graffiti fading into polished glass.
When they exited onto Michigan Avenue, the city felt different: colder, taller, louder in all the ways that overwhelmed him. Elliot moved like he'd walked these streets his whole life, weaving through crowds effortlessly. Jayden followed, gripping his violin case like a lifeline.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a building that didn't look real. It rose at least forty floors into the sky, all sleek steel and mirrored windows reflecting the pale winter sun. A valet opened the glass doors as they approached, and warm air drifted out like a luxurious sigh.
Jayden froze. "This... this place is too fancy for me."
Elliot glanced down at him. "It's just a building, Jayden."
"Yeah, but it's not a building people like me walk into."
"That's because people like you have been told that lie too many times." Elliot placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "Walk with me."