#hourbelle

[corner-stories]

TylerCo Trust Fund Baby

Jesse Chambers. Rick Tyler.

Interviews. Catching Up. Sketchbooks.

2848 words.

(ao3.)

Jessica Belle Chambers had her own way of dealing with the unexpected. 

If her morning class got canceled, only reorganizing her day in her planner could quell the anxious knot in her stomach. When her Professor sent an email regarding her thesis, only a look at her meticulously crafted notes about the Mystery-Men of the 1940s could help her come up with a satisfying answer. 

And when Rex Tyler — CEO of TylerCo and the current Hourman despite his advancing age — agreed to an interview with a young, exceedingly organized grad student, Jesse responded to the opportunity the only way she could — i.e by vigorously planning out her entire day to accommodate the event. 

At six-thirty Jesse was up. At seven she was on her morning run with a podcast playing into her ears. At seven-thirty she was answering emails while eating the finest provisions a starving grad student could afford — cup noodles with a dash of sriracha. At eight-fifteen she was at class and discussing the impact that American Mystery-Men had on the post-WWII economy, nursing a coffee as she spoke. Then finally at eleven she rushed back to her dorm to make herself look presentable, then said her father’s Speed Force mantra to zip over to New York. 

…

…

…

Having been born and raised in Queens — until her parents’ split — Jesse always saw the Big Apple as her second home. Her childhood of day trips to Coney Island and baseball games at Citi Field rushed back to her the second she stepped into the city lines. The sound of cabbies honking their horns and New Yorkers yelling filled her ears, instilling a peculiar sense of nostalgia she had not felt since she was a young, gawky child with round spectacles and lanky limbs. 

Lower Manhattan was a nice change from Gotham. The latter was infamously known for the “Gothamite Stench,”  a pungent odor that clung to the inhabitants whether they liked it or not. Some people claimed it was reminiscent of a dumpster after a rainstorm, while others described it as moldy and dank. 

All Jesse knew was that it only took her six months at GSU to get used to the smell and that trudging through the Financial District at the peak of rush hour was practically a breath of fresh air.

The TylerCo building stood tall with a million glassy windows. Workers young and old filtered in and out of the place with the haste reminiscent of a typical college student. As Jesse walked up to the building, she checked her planner and her trusty wristwatch, then swiftly found comfort in the fact that she had a few minutes to spare. 

After checking in at the front desk, Jesse pinned her visitor’s pass to her blazer lapel as she entered a crowded elevator. On the thirtieth floor she stepped into a typical white-collared workplace, in which workers in cubicles either typed on their computers or made small talk amongst the water cooler. 

As Jesse made her way to the executive office in the back she wondered if the aura of a Stressed Grad Student could be picked up on by the TylerCo employees. Or worse, if her thorough shower at her dorm wasn’t enough to get the Gothamite Stench off of her. 

To quash the anxious feeling building inside her, she triple checked to see if she had her notes with all her questions for the Man of the Hour. When she found that everything was where she left it, she closed her planner and tucked it under her arm for safekeeping. 

Outside of Rex Tyler’s office was an ornate door, a little waiting area, and a Secretary’s desk. Jesse wasted no time in walking up to the lady typing at her computer. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Tyler.” 

The Secretary didn’t look up from her screen. “Which one?” 

Jesse paused as her brain tried to process a question she was not prepared to hear. “Excuse me?” 

“Well, do my eyes deceive me?” asked a playful voice. 

Jesse turned around to see someone sitting on a chair by the office door. Lounging with ease was a young man just about her age, someone clad in a charcoal suit and a yellow necktie. In his hands were a pencil and a moleskine notebook, something he appeared to be writing in quite vigorously. 

The sight of his chestnut locks, deep brown eyes, and his uncanny resemblance to the company’s founder immediately told Jesse who it was. 

With a grin, Rick Tyler shut the notebook in his hands and got to his feet, looking Jesse up and down. “Jessica,” he greeted somewhat playfully. 

Jesse remained stone-faced as she gave him a polite nod. “Richard.”

At the desk, Rex’s Secretary typed madly on her keyboard before speaking up once more.

“Erm, Mr. Tyler…” she said then paused. “...the older one… will just be a few minutes. Please sit down.”

Jesse nodded as Rick’s grin got just a bit wider. 

“Thank you.”

On reflex Jesse checked her planner again as she made her way to one of the chairs. She sat next to a very amused Rick, trying her best to ignore the way he was looking at her. He stared at her like someone had told a joke and she wasn’t getting the punchline. 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Rick, speaking in a tone tinged with just the slightest bit of contempt. “She said the same thing to me thirty minutes ago.” 

Jesse rolled her eyes and checked her phone. As to be expected there were a handful of emails from her professor, as well as a few texts from her co-workers asking to cover a shift. As Jesse contemplated whether the extra cash would be worth the loss of study time, Rick took a seat next to her.

“So… how’ve you been, Jess?” asked the dashing young heir to the TylerCo fortune. “Haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“I would say the same to you,” Jesse said, glancing over to take in Rick’s appearance. 

Rick’s resemblance to his father was as clear as day, whether it be due to his sharp jawline or his thick eyebrows. Yet if one looked close enough they could see that Rick had a sense of prettiness to him, particularly in his long lashes or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Anyone familiar with Wendi Harris-Tyler’s filmography could undoubtedly see the traces of her beauty in her son. 

“Last I heard you were doing your thesis,” Rick recalled. 

Jesse nodded. “And last I heard you were-” 

“In rehab?” 

Jesse felt her stomach drop, clearly dealing with the second unprepared event of the day. Her professional front began to falter as she took a few seconds to regain herself.

“... I was gonna say the Hamptons,” she eventually replied. “Heard you needed some time away.” 

Rick let out a chuckle, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh. “Yeah, no shit. It’s not the worst place for Rex Tyler’s junkie son to hang out.”

“You shouldn’t say that about yourself,” Jesse was quick to say. She eyed Rick in a way that indicated a level of concern. 

Rick averted her gaze and looked down to the carpeted floor. He smirked a bit, then let out a chuckle. “I shouldn’t say a lot of things about myself.” 

As Rick seemingly laughed at himself, Jesse took him in for a few moments more. The last time she had seen him was five years ago, wherein Johnny Chambers had invited the Tylers to dinner. Unsurprisingly, they all ate with an empty chair at the table.

As to be expected, Rex Tyler was busy with something — whether it be hero stuff or CEO work. For that one night, his habit had led to a very strange dinner where the man’s absence felt like an elephant in the room. It was very telling that on this particular occasion, Johnny’s quips about his and Libby’s divorce would only make things even more uncomfortable.

Aside from that, Jesse could recall Rick bringing up a desire to go to art school and his mother supporting him one-hundred percent. Even back then he claimed that drawing was the only thing he was good at. 

When Jesse’s father had proudly toted his daughter’s acceptance into Cornell, she could remember a burning blush creeping to her cheeks and the desire to tuck her head into her shirt like a turtle. Somehow her embarrassment had made Rick smile for the only time that night, something that stuck with her even to this day. 

Unsurprisingly, Jesse had lost contact with Rick not too long after. Suddenly she became more concerned with her undergrad than keeping contact with the children of her father’s hero friends. All she ever heard of him was through the grapevine, usually during visits to her parents. 

Discovering that her childhood friend had gone through some serious substance abuse issues was already quite upsetting, hearing it over tea with her mother didn’t help as well. Perhaps what made it worse was the fact that Jesse didn’t know how to call and check on him, as his number in her phone was no longer in use.

Wanting to keep the conversation light, Jesse asked, “Did you ever end up going to art school?” 

“Did a few semesters at Yale,” Rick shrugged. “But that whole rehab thing got in the way.” He turned to her and looked her up and down once more, placing his hand on his chin as he knitted his eyebrows. 

“Hm, Dad was right.” 

Jesse glanced back at him, confused. “About what?”

“You do look a lot like your Mom,” answered Rick, his voice sounding just a bit silky. “Especially back in the day.”

Before Jesse could get distracted by the burning sensation in her cheeks, Rex’s Secretary spoke up. 

“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Tyler can’t make this appointment,” she said. “He’ll have to cancel.” 

Jesse tried to ignore the anxious knot in her chest and stood up. “When can he reschedule?” 

“Perhaps next week?” the Secretary offered. “Just send an email and we can set something up.” 

Jesse nodded and Rick sighed. As the Secretary went back to furiously typing, Rick stood up from his chair and stretched his arms. 

“Well, my morning’s a bust,” Jesse mumbled, disappointed. As to be expected she opened up planner and began mentally calculating what to do with her time now.

“Dad will be Dad,” Rick replied, pacing around with his hands in his pockets. “You’ll get used to it.” 

He looked over to see her reorganizing cue-cards in the pages of her planner.

“Got time to take an early lunch?” he asked casually. “My treat.”

Immediately, Jesse looked back to her planner and flipped through the pages. It didn’t take her long to weigh the pros and cons of the opportunity. After deeming the prospect of free food as a more valuable outcome than running back to Gotham to study or cover a cafe shift, she closed her book and gave him a nod. 

“Yeah, why not?”  

…

…

…

Sitting on a bench somewhere on FDR Drive, the pair youngsters enjoyed a view of the Brooklyn Bridge and their bodega sandwiches. Around them Lower Manhattan hummed like a machine that refused to turn off. 

Rick had shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, Jesse had let her hair down and removed her contacts in favor of her usual spectacles. With the finer details of corporate life taken away, the two looked a lot more relaxed. It was incredible what getting out of a stuffy office could do for a person.

As the hustle of the big city resonated behind them, both Jesse and Rick spoke about whatever came to mind. 

For once Jesse could speak about school in a way that didn’t relate to her thesis. She spoke of her dorm room and how it was always colder than she wanted it to be, or her cafe job and how she was saving up to move off campus. Even though being the child of Johnny Quick and Liberty Belle had afforded her more privileges than she knew to do with, she felt uneasy asking her parents for more money, even if it was to live comfortably. 

In turn Rick spoke of his recent travels. The Hamptons in the off-season certainly had its perks, as what was once a vibrant summer getaway town was now a quiet, seaside hamlet. He spent most of his time in his mother’s beach house, simply retreating from everything and spending his time with his art. He had begun painting more often, something he was unfamiliar with but now had time to explore. Drawing would remain as his first love, however.

Rick finished his sandwich and asked, “Even thought about transferring around here? I hear Columbia dorms are cozy.” 

“Tempting, but I’ve got enough on my plate already,” Jesse replied, keeping her eyes on the waters of the East River. “I can’t imagine handling a transfer on top of it all.”

In the distance Jesse could see a ferry bringing tourists from the city to Liberty Island, an activity that she had done a handful of times in her childhood. As memories of her mother holding her up to the ship’s railing swirled in her head, she took a quick sip of her cherry cola. 

“Maybe I’ll burn my old notes for warmth this winter,” she suggested, half joking and half serious.

Rick let out a chuckle, crumpling up his sandwich wrapper and tossing it into a nearby trash can. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the same small moleskine that he had been writing in before. If anything, it seemed to be a coping mechanism akin to Jesse’s planner. 

Jesse eyed the book, noting that whatever he was jotting down was just out of her sight.  

“What are you always doing in there?” she asked, curious. 

Rick gave her a friendly smile before lifting up the book. On the current page was a small drawing of an hourglass, in which everything from the sheen of the glass to the sand trickling down were drawn in meticulous detail. To say that Rick Tyler learned nothing from his few semesters of art school would be an absolute lie. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Rick said in a somewhat sardonic tone.  

Jesse shook her head. “I wouldn’t say so.”

Rick handed the sketchbook over so she could examine it more clearly. As she flipped through the pages she was graced with drawings of nearly anything imaginable, ranging from an old ‘66 Mustang to the New York skyline. Some were more stylized and impressionistic, while others were photorealistic. Sometimes he used watercolors, but more often than that a pencil was all he needed to do wonders.

“You’re good at this,” Jesse admitted, giving him a softer look than before. 

Like before Rick was smiling. “You flatter me, Miss Chambers.” 

As Jesse flipped through the pages and admired the drawing of a lilypad, Rick looked out to the sight of Brooklyn across the water. 

“And here Dad was thinking I could be a Doctor,” he spoke dryly, then scoffed. “Jokes on him, I flunked out of O-Chem in high school.”

“Not everyone’s cut out for it,” Jesse assured. “I’m sure he’ll come around one day.”

Rick’s face seemed to light up, but only slightly. He sat with his legs crossed and his back slightly hunched, his chiseled chin resting in his hand. He smiled but only marginally so, one that didn’t seem to be laced with the mild disdain or obligation like before.

“You’re lucky, Jess,” he soon said, looking her in the eye. “Your Dad’s actually proud of what you do.” 

Jesse wasn’t sure what to say. She looked down to Rick’s sketchbook again. She took in a watercolor recreation of a lighthouse in Montauk, one characterized by the dreamy mix of greens and blues and yellows, then snapped the whole thing shut. 

As she handed it back to him she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Once she grabbed the device she couldn’t help but feel relieved that some kind of distraction managed to pop up. 

“Speaking of which…” Jesse said as she read the text off her phone. “Dad just asked how the interview went. Could I send a pic of you and I?” 

Rick slipped his sketchbook into his pocket and raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Because I’m sure he’d rather see me hanging out with a walking Brooks Brothers catalog than wasting my time,” Jesse replied in a matter-of-fact voice, as if there was nothing remotely unusual with her words in any capacity. 

Rick gave her an amused smirk. “Well, personally I prefer ‘TylerCo Trust Fund Baby’ but okay.”

“That’s funny,” Jesse said in a blunt and dry tone, one laced with the slightest implication that Rick’s quip was anything but. 

As Rick let out a subdued chuckle, Jesse opened the camera app on her phone and raised the device up, making sure to bring her old friend and herself into frame.

“Smile!”

#rick tyler #jesse chambers #hourman #liberty belle #jessequick #jesserick #quickrick #hourbelle #jsa #dc #flashfam #i miss my girlboss and himbo