Michigan was nothing like Georgia.
Jesse had been lucky enough in that he hadn't had to make any connecting trains or buses but it had been a long time to be stuck in one train car.
It was bustling, and he only allowed himself a brief moment to take in the towering buildings and cityscape before weaving in and out of people through the station on their way to their own destinations. He might have been a kid from the middle of nowhere but he didn't need to make himself in to some kind of spectacle. No one would take him seriously if he looked like some starstruck hick from the sticks.
Thankfully cab drivers knew every street corner, hotel and dive there was. All he had to do was tell them where he needed to go.
Jesse thanked the driver, paid his fare and glanced up once at the building after he'd closed the door. Thomasville had nothing this extravagant, and this had been the cheapest he could find in town. He'd have to at least see what the other places were like before going home. It was probably good he couldn't afford a camera, then he would look like a hick from the sticks.
He checked in and was handed the key to his room, had raised a brow but declined any help from the bellhop and made it to his room on the third floor. He'd taken the stairs. He'd never used an elevator before and wasn't sure he trusted that open cage design.
Locking the door behind him, Jesse threw his hat and luggage on a chair before losing the jacket and shoes. He pinched the knots out of the back of his neck before lying on the bed and flipping through the directory he'd grabbed from the nightstand.
Well, calls home would have to be limited. Long distance was murder.
He had to make sure to budget gas money for the drive home too.
That's if Hudson even gave him a car.
That would be a rough call back home. Not to mention a huge waste of time and money on his part.
He had a decent shot though, right? Two weeks ago everyone had been impressed and interested in who he was. Edward Piston had given him his card. Those who had bet on him were thrilled.
What if that was just the pomp and circumstance of racing? What if it was all false smiles and great job but no genuine interest?
What if it was a one time thing?
He tossed the directory aside and grabbed the phone, asking the operator to connect him with the main offices of Hudson Motor Car Company.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Hanging up, he tried again but this time asked for a specific party line down in Thomasville, Georgia.
Of course it was busy. Mrs. Rhodes down the road was probably discussing the latest gossip of town.
He groaned and set the phone aside, lying back again.
He hadn't expected to fall asleep for three hours.
He'd tried to make a call to Hudson again, figuring that it wasn't even three in the afternoon yet, someone would still be there.
Still nothing.
He tried home again.
Still busy.
This was going to be a very boring trip. It took him a few minutes to get the hang of the television, he'd seen them before, sure, but had never had to get it to function.
Talk about feeling small.
They had everything else in his room, why couldn't they have at least left a radio.
He ended up ignoring the television anyway, the picture was small and the sound distorted. Instead, he stared at the ceiling from where he lay and rehearsed what he would say to the owners at Hudson.
Yes, that is actually my last name.
You want to sell cars, you need an audience. I'll get you that audience.
You won't be able to produce Hornets fast enough.
He decided he wasn't going to waste any more money with attempted phone calls, and instead spent the rest of the evening ordering the cheapest food he could find and figuring out how he was going to make this work.
The next morning he tried again and was at least able to contact home. They'd kept the conversation brief once he'd explained the surcharges but he shared that he had wanted his siblings to know he was safe and the train hadn't suffered some catastrophic derailment.
He'd heard Ruth shout something from the background when Henry had relayed the message.
"What'd she say?"
"She doesn't think you're very funny."
He'd rolled his eyes before changing the subject, saying they'd have to make a trip up north when he was racing Piston.
They said their goodbyes and Jesse was left staring at the same four walls again. He grumbled lowly to himself as he went for his luggage. He wasn't going to spend this trip waiting around for some big shots to finally give him the time of day.
Standing in front of the offices of Hudson Motors he took a deep breath, shook the nervousness from his hands, and pushed the doors open.
The lobby was surprisingly smaller than he had expected, if he didn't know where he was then he'd have had no idea this was the main building for the company. Then again, it wasn't exactly Ford he was approaching either.
They'd give Ford a run for their money though, if they'd get in to Piston.
He removed his hat when he reached the front desk and offered a charming smile to the young secretary who blushed before glancing at the roster of meeting times for the day.
"Do you have an appointment, Mr.-?"
"Hudson, and no, I don't, I was hoping-"
He could tell she thought he was part of the family when she sat up straighter and went to speak. He stopped her before she had a chance.
"No, it's not what you think. There's no relation."
"Oh-"
"I'd just like to meet with someone who'd-"
"You'll need a scheduled appointment."
His brow furrowed at being interrupted and he started over. "I'd just like to speak to someone from production, or even marketing."
When she repeated herself about needing an appointment he felt his resolve waver ever so slightly. He frowned and put his hands in his pockets before feeling a slip of paper and looking down at it in curiosity. Somehow Edward Piston's business card had found it's way in to his formal jacket pocket.
He set it on the counter with a little more force than necessary, sliding it toward her.
"I would like to speak to someone from this company."
She took the business card and glanced up at him uncertainly. "Take a seat, sir."
"Much obliged." He grinned and grabbed a seat near the window, spinning the hat over his hand as he waited.
Businessmen walked in and out and he caught himself checking his watch more frequently than usual. He had the distinct feeling they were hoping he'd get tired of waiting.
Finally he noticed an older gentleman speaking with the secretary, he glanced up in his direction when she'd passed him the card. Jesse willed his heart to slow down as the man approached him from across the lobby.
"My apologies, we don't normally have walk ins, Mr.-"
"Hudson." Jesse stood and shook his hand. He grinned faintly at the raised brow and once again explained there was no relation.
"Miss Marks tells me you wished to see someone?" The man asked while looking over the card Jesse had handed the girl earlier.
"From production, or marketing, yes sir. Preferably the owner, but I'm sure he's a busy man."
"He is." The man answered. "I think we can gather a few people though."
Jesse followed and took the man's instruction when he was lead in to what appeared to be a board room and was asked to sit on one side of the table. He bounced his knee nervously when the man disappeared, but stopped abruptly when he returned with two more men who flanked him on the opposite side of the table.
"This is John Hudson, he's in charge of production." He certainly looked it, while dressed in a suit, Jesse could tell he had no problem tearing an engine apart and reassembling it.
"And this is Adam Brown. He takes care of the marketing campaigns. Our numbers cruncher if you will." Jesse could see that too, the guy looked like he'd never suffered a callous or blister in his life.
They all shook hands and he introduced himself, explaining the name before anyone had the chance to ask. He jumped into his pitch without delay, knowing they weren't going to hold his hand in this.
"I happened to see your new Hornets a few weeks ago-"
Adam had already held his hand up to stop him. "The Hornets aren't off the line yet."
Jesse glanced toward the other men. "I saw three Hornets in Thomasville, Georgia."
"They were test running down south." John leaned out across the table to look at Adam. Jesse could already sense a rivalry there.
"Right." Jesse continued after a pause. "I saw one of their runs and was extremely impressed. I'd like to propose the idea of racing them in Piston Cup."
"That rabble?" Adam sneered. "Piston Cup is going nowhere."
Jesse could tell he had John's attention, though, and the older gentleman across from him.
"I raced at Thomasville two weeks ago, in a Ford-"
"Don't curse around here, son." The man threw in jokingly.
He grinned, feeling like he was gaining some ground. "Anyway, I raced in an old beaten up car but after seeing those Hudsons on the track, I'd like to drive a Hudson Hornet."
Jesse went into the specifics of why a Hornet would dominate the track. "The straight six isn't as high powered as the V-8 but those Hornets are lighter, they don't need it. Then with the dual carburetors-"
"How do you know about the dual carburators?"
Jesse could tell Mr. Brown was going to be the main problem. "I got a look at them after one of their runs."
"What did you think?" The man across from him asked.
"They're fantastic." Jesse shook his head, hoping they understood he was being genuine and not trying to impress.
"So." The man leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "What is it you're really here to ask, young man."
"I want to drive a Hornet. It's an unheard of model, Ford is taking the market with their post world war production line. Piston Cup, contrary to what some believe-" He glanced toward their marketing director briefly before continuing. "-is taking the south by storm. If you have a Hornet out there winning races you won't have enough product to meet demand."
"Plus-" He added. "I'll need it to get home."
The man laughed suddenly at that.
"And you're going to win those races?"
"Yes, sir."
The man looked toward John before turning back to Jesse. "You, nineteen year old, green as the day is long, Jesse Hudson, are going to win Piston Cup races in one of our cars."
"Yes."
"You've only won one race."
Jesse felt his optimism slipping. "So far."
The man nodded slowly, turning in the chair before going to stand. Jesse did so as well, out of polite habit.
"Mr. Brown, kindly get me the specs and numbers on the cost of a Hornet." He gestured for the others to follow. "You two come with me."
He lead them out of the room and then out of the building and around to a large lot where a few dozen Hornets were lined up along the back of the building. Jesse felt a wave of uncertainty as the man excused themselves and left him standing beside a green Hudson.
They'd at least listened to him. He'd made it this far, and if they said no, he'd be back tomorrow.
The two approached him again and Jesse forced himself to breath.
"To make a long story short, you're gunna get a car."
Jesse grinned but held back his excitement with professionalism as best he could.
"There are conditions, though." The man continued.
"Alright."
"Your first official races, a percentage will be taken off the winnings to pay for the car."
That was fair.
"If you're as good as you say you are, we expect to see sales."
"Yes, sir."
The man slapped him on the shoulder. "John's gunna get you a car, we'll draft a contract tomorrow."
He'd barely gotten a chance to thank the man before he was walking back to the building. Hearing an engine turn over and level out into a low rumble, Jesse turned to see a Hornet backing out of it's parking space and coast down the lot toward him.
He wasn't that impressed with the color. Cream wasn't exactly aggressive.
It was a Hornet, though, and that's all that mattered.
John got out of the car and walked around the hood to meet him.
"He was impressed by your tenacity, kid."
Jesse grinned faintly, and was surprised when the other continued.
"Edward Piston told us we might hear from you, too. Dad had been hoping to meet you."
John Hudson, the elder man was John Hudson Sr.
The owner of Hudson Motor Car Company. Why hadn't he put two and two together...
Before Jesse could process the events of the last hour, John held out a set of keys. "He told you about contracts waiting till tomorrow?"
"Yes." He took the keys, hiding his confusion when John went back to the driver's side door.
The man must have noticed, and clarified. "This is for my wife." He smirked. "Go pick out a car."
As the cream colored Hudson left the lot, Jesse turned down the row of fresh-off-the-line vehicles and scrutinized each one.
He could do red like Ruth had asked, but as much as he loved his sister, this was his car. If he was going to be spending so much time on it and in it, he better like it.
The black was sharp, he liked the sleek lines and the way the chrome contrasted against it, but it also made it look like a police car.
He finally came to a stop at the end of the row and stared at the last Hornet. He was reminded of Thomasville when those cars had come out on the track and of his brief conversation with Edward Piston, before he'd even realized who the man was.
The navy blue still allowed the chrome to contrast handsomely, it was sleek, classy, and intimidating.
"How would you like to become famous?" He murmured to the Hornet.
AN: I'm not old enough to have ever used a party line, but I've heard stories of having to pick up the phone and telling your neighbor to get off the line if you had an important call to make. Like back in the day when I was told to get off the Internet when my parents needed the phone.