Ten Days in August (16 page)

“I'll be extremely cautious,” Hank said. “I promise.”

“Good. Let's go home, my love. I find I am quite exhausted.”

A
t the request of Commissioner of Public Works Collis and a written memo from Mr. Roosevelt, Andrew accompanied a team to the corner of Canal and Ludlow Streets. He'd protested the whole way, his work regarding the Bryan speech unable to wait, but the powers that be had ordered him to oversee the men who carried out the plan.

The air was pungent, smelling of sweat and dead animals, and the streets were littered with the corpses of dead dogs, great piles of horse excrement, and what might have been blood in one of the gutters. A few curious onlookers had wandered over to see what those assembled were about to do. Their presence reminded Andrew of something Hank had said the day before about the conditions in the tenements. Andrew had read
How the Other Half Lives
, and he knew full well what condition the residents of these old, crumbling buildings had to endure, but seeing this street on such a night was something else entirely.

That they were a week into one of the worst heat waves in Andrew's memory and no one had thought to do this sooner alarmed Andrew. He knew full well how many people—how many children—in this small district had expired since the heat wave began because many of those coroner's reports passed over his desk.

Commissioner Collis stood on the corner and explained his plan to everyone as a team of a dozen workers unfurled great hoses. They were going to flush out the Lower East Side.

“The water,” Collis said, “will cool the asphalt and also wash away the accumulated detritus on the streets. By twelve o'clock tonight we shall have thoroughly washed every street in this section between Houston and Division Streets. Let each gang take a street. Hitch on to every fireplug and don't spare the water. It's a terrible night, and many lives may depend on the way you work. Flood the streets and cool the air. Now go ahead.”

A glance down the streets where Andrew stood showed there were already perhaps a hundred children outside. As the teams started their hoses, a few came to cautiously splash around in the cool water. Then more joined as their parents looked on. Andrew had been skeptical of this plan, but as he heard the laughter of children, he couldn't help but think this was a smart course of action. Already, the air around them felt cooler. Andrew was tempted to jump into those streams of water himself, but he refrained.

A woman in a tattered dress holding a small child to her bosom walked up to Andrew and said, “I cannot thank you enough for what you are doing.”

Andrew watched as more children jumped into the streams of water, many squealing with joy and laughter as they played together. He turned toward the woman. “Do you believe this helps?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Can you not feel how much cooler it has become since they turned the water on? And look at the children at play! It is like a vacation for them.” She sighed and adjusted the weight of the child on her hip. “We cannot afford the train fare to the beach, you see, though I know that is how many people cope with this weather. Have you ever been to the beach, sir? I hear it's nice.”

“I have been. It is nice.”

“I'm sure it's lovely. Well. Thank you, all of you. I must go attend to my sons now.”

When she left, Commissioner Collis walked over to stand next to Andrew. “I would call this a success. Already a great deal of the rubbish has been pushed aside. That will help with the smell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tomorrow, we shall repeat this on Mulberry Street and in Chinatown.”

“A fine plan, sir.”

“You'll write a letter to Roosevelt about this, yes? I'd like to think he approves of such a plan.”

“He does.”

“Good. I shall write to Mayor Strong. I'd like him to allocate more resources to these efforts.”

Andrew thought it unlikely Mayor Strong would allocate resources to anything, given his taciturn response thus far, but he nodded. “I shall report this to Roosevelt first thing in the morning. It seems this has been a successful effort.”

Collis smiled. “Yes.” Then his face fell. “I can only hope other departments in the city will follow my example. Commissioner McMillen of the Parks Department was also asked to shorten the work day of his employees, but alas, he is too tied up in bureaucratic nonsense.” Collins waved his hand. “I want to convince Mayor Strong to issue some sort of order mandating city workers not be forced to spend eight hours laboring until this heated term breaks, but he seems disinterested in doing anything but sitting inertly at his desk.”

“Yes. And it is not just laborers who are feeling the ill effects of this weather,” Andrew pointed out. “Six police officers have died of heat stroke so far.”

Collis shook his head. “It is a shame. We could be doing more to prevent this. I want to do more.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“I even talked to Commissioner McMillen about lifting the ban on people sleeping in the parks. At least if people are going to leave their houses, they could sleep on the ground instead of on roofs and fire escapes.”

Andrew knew as well as anyone the toll those decisions—or failure to make any decisions—took. He'd seen the coroner's report on a five-year-old who had fallen off a fire escape to his death just the night before.

“So much tragedy,” Andrew murmured.

“We could be doing more. We should be. But you know how things work in this city. By the time relief efforts are in place, the heat wave will be over, and all this will be for naught.”

Andrew opened his mouth to reply, but Collis shook his head and walked back to his men.

 

Hank helped Nicky out of his garments, and Nicky gasped in a deep breath as the corset stays were finally loosened.

“That can't be comfortable,” Hank observed.

“Yes, well, beauty is pain, darling.” Nicky peeled off his garments and stretched out his body, hoping to get the blood moving back where it needed to go.

Hank peeled off the corset and rubbed Nicky's back. “This is fascinating to me,” Hank said. “Peeling away your disguise. Like unwrapping a present. Or like watching a fantastical transformation.”

Nicky laughed softly. “You are easy to impress at times.”

“Perhaps.” Hank leaned over and kissed the top of Nicky's spine. The gesture struck Nicky as sweet and affectionate. It was one of Hank's best qualities; he could be so giving in his passions and he could be this nice to Nicky when they were having a quiet moment alone.

Nicky and Hank worked together to get the rest of the gown and its accoutrement off of Nicky's body. Hank hung up the gown and undergarments as Nicky wiped the makeup from his face. And that was funny, too, how they could prepare for bed together without saying a word. Hank simply understood what needed to be done.

As Nicky finished with his face, Hank walked up behind him and put his arms around Nicky's chest. Nicky leaned back against him.

“You're perfect,” Hank whispered against the space where Nicky's neck met his shoulder. “You were perfect tonight.”

“Thank you.” Nicky's stomach flopped. He lifted his hands to touch Hank's face, his hair, but he was nervous, too.

“I do not believe anyone suspected your real identity, but how could they? Tonight it seemed like Alice was
you
. The way you acted and moved was so lovely and graceful and
natural
.”

“I have had a great deal of practice, darling.”

“I've never met a man like you,” Hank said. “But I am amazed by everything about you. Your smarts, your beauty, your bravery.”

Nicky guffawed. “I'm not brave. Tonight was terrifying.”

Hank ran his hands over Nicky's belly, over his chest. “Bravery is not a lack of fear. Fearlessness is stupidity. Bravery is being terrified of something and doing it anyway because it needs doing.”

Nicky melted back into Hank. “You really think me smart.”

“One of the smartest, dearest men I have ever known.”

“You're only saying that because we are both nearly naked and pressed together.”

“No, Nicky. There is something special about you. I want to be near it. I want to be with you.”

All the emotion in Hank's voice made Nicky nervous, so he said, “Come to bed with me, love. We'll keep each other hot and sweaty until dawn.”

“Mmm. I don't want to sleep. I might miss something.”

Nicky was sympathetic. He lifted his hand and ran it down the side of Hank's head, across his face. He closed his eyes and just felt the roughness of Hank's skin, the spikiness of his stubble, the thick brush of his mustache. Nicky thought Hank smart and capable and very handsome but couldn't figure how to say so in a way that did it justice.

And he was acutely aware that their time together was finite.

“So let's stay up all night,” Nicky said.

“All right. Who needs sleep?”

Who indeed? Nicky turned in Hank's arms to face him. He gave Hank a brief kiss on the lips and then took both of Hank's hands. He led Hank to the bed and sat. He looked up at Hank and decided to show everything. He felt strongly for Hank, and vulnerable, and attractive. Hank smiled down at Nicky and then climbed onto the bed beside him.

“Let me honor you,” Hank said. “Let me make love to you as you should be made love to.”

“Yes,” Nicky whispered.

When they kissed, any reservations Nicky had melted away.

Day 7

Tuesday, August 11
Temperature: 97°F

N
icky wanted every morning to begin like this. Well he'd like the heat to be less overbearing, but he was so comfortable he almost didn't mind it. He lay in bed with Hank, propped up on his elbows and meeting Hank's lazy, sleepy gaze, and the two of them just stared stupidly at each other. Hank reached up and ran his hand over Nicky's cheek before cupping it and lifting his head until their lips met. The kiss was soft but passionate, Hank's lips moving sensually over Nicky's, Nicky's heart melting as he sank into Hank's embrace.

Hank had pulled the curtains closed the night before to keep some of the hot sunlight out, and it helped a little, although the room was dim as a result. Nicky's building bordered three others, and the view out his bedroom window was partly obscured by a rusty metal fire escape, so the room never got great lighting, but it seemed particularly dark this morning. It had the effect of making Nicky feel like he and Hank were alone in a cave.

“Let's never leave here,” said Nicky.

“Mmm. Make love to me.”

“I'd be happy to.”

And Nicky wanted to. He wanted to love Hank. Wouldn't the world be a better place if the two of them could just be together, if there weren't something inherently backward, inverted, or wrong about them? Nicky had met enough other men like himself over the years that he'd come to understand this inclination was just a facet of humanity, but this did not mean he could not be arrested for it. He'd been arrested for indecency early in his days playing Paulina, and it hadn't gone anywhere, but the officer who had put him in jail had told him he wouldn't be so lucky next time. He'd been extremely careful about how he comported himself outside the club ever since.

Nothing was ever easy, and maybe a life of ill deeds meant Nicky was unworthy of love, but that didn't stop him from wanting it. Hovering now above Hank made him crave it more than anything else. He could love Hank. Hank could love him. In a different time, in a different place, they could be happy together.

But alas, this was New York City in 1896 and it was appallingly hot outside. Nicky knew his time with Hank would be short, and he should make the most of it.

He dropped his head and kissed Hank, really kissed him, mouths open, tongues tangling. Hank groaned beneath him and thrust his hands up into Nicky's hair.

“I want more,” Hank murmured.

Nicky moved on top of Hank and pressed their hips together. Hank was hard and Nicky got there when the immediacy of Hank beneath him subsumed any thoughts in his head. Hank ran his big hands up and down Nicky's back and Nicky bucked and writhed and moved against him. Hank's hands were rough and hot and made Nicky's skin tingle. All of it made Nicky tingle from his forehead to his toes. Nicky threw his head up, and Hank moved in to plant kisses against Nicky's Adam's apple. Nicky moaned and pressed his hands against Hank's chest, feeling Hank's nipples harden under his palms.

“More,” Hank said.

Nicky wasn't sure what more he could give. He sensed Hank was asking for something specific. “Hank, I can't—”

“You're so beautiful.” Hank looked up and met Nicky's gaze. “Your eyes, your skin, all of it. I've thought about you whenever we've been apart nearly constantly for the last week.”

“Hank . . .”

Hank kissed Nicky, stifling any abashed protest Nicky could make.

“What if I allowed you inside me?” Hank asked when they parted.

Nicky balked. The morning had taken a strange turn. How could a man like Hank even want that?

Hank stroked the side of Nicky's face and gazed at him with a kind of soulful longing Nicky didn't understand. Hank said, “I know. I know a hundred men came before me and used you. They used your body for their own pleasure. I know why there are acts you won't do, intimacies you won't allow. I can't pretend to know what that's like, to put yourself in their hands the way you did. I don't know first-hand about the risks or the pain or the scars they left behind. But I know a thing or two about men and the world you have lived in. So I understand why you have limits, why there are things you won't let me do.”

Hank's gaze flitted over Nicky's face. He gently ran his thumb over a scar on Nicky's chin, a reminder of the time a man had cut open Nicky's face with the ring on his fist.

Nicky said nothing. Hank likely did understand.

“I know, too,” Hank said, “that while this act can be selfish on one person's part, it can also be an act of trust and affection. It shows a tremendous amount of trust to take someone into your body, does it not?”

Nicky's heart fluttered and started to pound. There was so much kindness in Hank's voice, and Nicky knew not why he deserved it. Then something occurred to him. “How do you know?”

Hank took Nicky's hand and held it to his bare chest. “I had a lover once. A real lover, a man I spent time with regularly.” Hank looked up toward the ceiling, his gaze unfocused now, perhaps lost in the memory. “We were not together long, but I cared for him a great deal. We met at the Slide, of all places, during one particularly wretched night when I drank too much whiskey. He took to me, I suppose, helped guide me home, and then he just never left.” Hank shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. Emotions played out over Hank's face, and even though Nicky couldn't read them all, he could fill in the fondness and the sadness regarding this.

“What happened to him?” Nicky asked.

“He died.” Hank sniffed. “Some disease, the doctor couldn't say what for sure. He fell ill one day, and then quite suddenly he declined and then he simply . . . never woke up again.” Hank's whole face went slack for a moment and then he closed his eyes tightly.

“My deepest sympathies,” Nicky murmured. “I apologize, I did not wish to bring up bad memories.”

“No, it was my fault for mentioning him.” Hank turned on his side and moved Nicky so they both lay facing each other. Hank put a hand on Nicky's hip. “What I intended to say here was that there can be trust and intimacy between two men. I know because I've experienced it and I've tasted it. I've come to care about you a great deal as well, and I want to show you that. I want you to be inside me because I like how it feels and I trust you. And perhaps it is foolish of me to trust you, but how can one ever know what is possible if one doesn't risk something?”

“You trust me.”

“Yes. And us together, we can use our bodies to care for each other. That is what I want.”

Nicky was overwhelmed. Hank doing this showed a remarkable amount of trust, and the gesture and the obvious affection in Hank's gaze touched Nicky. Tears stung his eyes.

“To be clear,” Hank added as he ran his palm over Nicky's hair. “I'm not commanding you to do this. Merely offering myself to you.”

And there was nothing to do but for Nicky to bury his face in the space where Hank's neck met his shoulder and weep with relief and joy and shame and everything boiling inside him. He clutched at Hank and pulled him close as Hank's arms came around him. For Hank to make this offer seemed crazy and perfect.

“I want to,” Nicky said.

Nicky thought quickly. He hadn't done this in so long he stalled while he thought about what he should do. They needed help to make this happen. Nicky remembered at once the little bottle of scented oil he had on his dresser. He kissed Hank again and whispered, “Stay here. I will return.”

He hopped out of bed. His heart raced as he anticipated the act. His thoughts were everywhere. Hank moved him, aroused him; Nicky wanted everything with Hank. He picked up the bottle and took several deep breaths, trying to get his heartbeat back to a normal pace. Then he approached the bed, where Hank lay splayed out, naked and breathtaking, his body scarred and muscular and hairy, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, his gaze bright and intense.

Nicky climbed atop him. “Are you certain of this, Hank?”

“Yes.”

That was unequivocal. Nicky poured some of the scented oil on his fingers, dribbling a bit on Hank's stomach. Hank reached down and ran his fingers through the little puddle and then reached between his legs and ran those fingers over the entrance to his body. Nicky backed up a little to watch him. Hank was so gorgeous and arousing, touching himself in that way, rubbing oil against his balls and cock as well. Nicky groaned because how could he not? He reached between Hank's legs and moved his fingers to mingle with Hank's. There was a dance they did together, their fingers moving against each other and inside Hank. Hank groaned and thrust his hips against Nicky's hand.

So Nicky prepared Hank the way he'd want to be prepared himself if any of his past lovers had taken the time. Hank threw his head back and arched his back off the bed, and his body was all tight muscle and ecstasy. As Nicky thrust his fingers inside Hank, Hank took his own cock in his hand and stroked, keeping it hard, continuing to writhe with pleasure.

“More, Nicky.”

Nicky poured more oil on his hands and stroked his own cock, looking up at Hank as he did so. His gaze met Hank's and it held. He did the rest by instinct. He guided himself toward Hank's entrance, positioned himself without breaking his gaze away from Hank's. And began to press forward without losing the connection to Hank. He went slow, because Hank winced as Nicky pushed through the barrier to his body, but soon enough Hank thrust against him again.

“Yes,” Hank whispered. “Oh, that's good.”

And it was good. Hank's body squeezed around Nicky's cock, making him feel crazy with lust and arousal, the pleasure an acute thing. Hank reached over and pressed his big hands against Nicky's buttocks and pulled him in farther.

And then Nicky was completely inside Hank and something in him shifted. There was a warmth spreading through Nicky's chest, a tingly affection for Hank. Hank's heart was in his eyes as he gazed up at Nicky. When Nicky began to worry he'd hurt Hank, Hank leaned up and kissed Nicky hard. So Nicky began to thrust slowly, experimentally moving in and out of Hank. It was beautiful and amazing and felt so great Nicky never wanted this to end. Hank moved against him, encouraging more movements.

Hank whispered Nicky's name, and Nicky heeded the call and kissed him and thrust his hips and made love to Hank. Hank was handsome and trusting and important and Nicky needed that in his life. Being inside Hank was a revelation, something that brought all new pleasure to Nicky, something he'd never quite experienced before even though he'd been with plenty of other men. No, being with Hank was unique. This moment was special. But Nicky was slowly losing his grip on it.

Nicky picked up the pace of his thrusting as his insides churned. His heart raced, sweat poured off him, and he could feel the telltale sparks and knew he was going to spend soon. Hank stroked his own cock, his hand a blur as he shifted his hips up against his hand and against Nicky. Then Hank let out a long groan, loud enough to wake the neighbors, and shot hard against his belly. His body squeezed Nicky and Nicky lost his grip. He kissed the side of Hank's mouth, felt the sweat glue their skin together, and pumped a few more times until everything was just pleasure and white light. He went blind as he climaxed, pulsing deep into Hank's body, grasping at Hank's shoulders for something to hold onto lest he fly apart.

When Nicky came back to himself, Hank was frantically kissing his face everywhere.

“Astonishing,” Hank said. “That was beautiful and just . . . astonishing. You really are remarkable, Nicky.”

Nicky could barely speak. He pressed his forehead against Hank's chest and then slowly picked up his head again. “Thank you, Hank. Thank you.”

“Together, Nicky. You and I should be together. Like this. Forever.”

“I want that.”

“I know it's hard. I know there's no earthly way for this to work. But I couldn't live with myself if I did not fight for it, because what we have between us is so good. It's so good. Do you not agree?”

“I agree. I do. I just don't see—”

“Shh. Just pretend for a little while. Let's stay here and not worry about the outside world for a little while longer.”

“All right.” Nicky settled against Hank's side and laid his head on Hank's chest. “We'll pretend. Us together. Like this.”

“Mmm, yes. Forever.”

“Anything for you, Hank.”