“No, I’ll stay with you. Always,” I tell him, grabbing his arm and pressing my body against his. Whatever happens, I’ll be standing by his side, and I’ll do it to the very end.
Keeping his silence, Parker just nods at me, and then lays a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Look, here she comes,” he whispers then, pointing with his head at the end of the street. Emerging from between the National Guard trucks, a stretch limo rolls all the way up to the blockade. It stops a few inches away from the NYPD officers manning a blockade, and then the driver leaves his seat and walks around the limo, opening one of the doors.
Two high heels touch the road, and then my mother rises from inside the limo, a vibrant red dress clinging to her curves. True to herself, she came in dressed for a celebration; she thinks victory is just at arm’s reach. Which isn’t too far from the truth: if she orders the National Guard to start shooting, it’s a done deal. Except I’m betting she’ll only do that as a last resort. Despite having the public’s support, it’d be a huge risk to paint the streets of New York in crimson.
“Get out of my way,” I hear her hiss at the NYPD officers, and she strolls past them without a care in the world, ignoring the guns in their hands. She walks toward Parker and I with a victorious grin on her face, the click of her heels on the concrete like a bad omen.
“Time to lay down, Parker,” she tells him, stopping right in front of him. “Or do you want a bloodbath in your beloved streets?”
“Fuck off, Kate,” he growls, his hands once again balled into fists. “You should be the one laying down.”
“Me?” she laughs, the sound of her voice vibrant and cheery. “I’m not the one with a noose around my neck.”
“The tides turn fast, Kate… Faster than you’ll know,” Parker responds, and my mother just laughs again.
“Oh, that’s funny. You’ve always had a poetic streak to you, Parker. Too bad it won’t do you any good. You’re done. The only question remaining is… Are you sure you want to order these men to their death?” she asks him, looking around at the dozens of NYPD officers encircling us. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t get out of the way.”
“I’m not ordering anyone, Kate,” Parker says out loud, his lips slowly curling into a smile. “They all volunteered. Right, boys?” he asks, louder this time, his voice echoing throughout the street.
“FUCKING-A!” One of the NYPD officers shouts, and the others shout in agreement. “We have your back, mayor,” the officer continues, and Parker’s smile widens.
“They’re here because they’re loyal, Kate. Which is something you’ll never be able to understand. You managed to pull the National Guard into this, but do you really want to see how far they’ll go? How loyal they are to you? Just tell them to point their guns at their fellow Americans and see what happens. I fucking dare you,” he growls.
I watch the whole scene in silence, looking from Parker to my mother. Should Parker even be this confident? My mother’s insane enough to follow his advice and order the National Guard to start shooting.
“You’re fucking insane, Parker,” she tells him, that shit-eating grin still on her face. “And that’s going to cost you. Perhaps your life,” she whispers, turning on her heels and walking straight toward the senior National Guard soldier.
“Get these two out of the way!” she barks, and the moment she says it the NYPD close in on Parker and I, forming a human barrier between us and the National Guard.
“Over our dead bodies!” they shout, taking their guns out of their holsters. The first row of officers begin to kneel on the floor, offering the second row a clear shot.
“Stand down, boys,” Parker suddenly says, letting go of me and walking past the NYPD barrier. “No bullets will be fired today.”
“What now, Parker? Want to be the first one in line to have your brains blown out?” my mother snaps at him, visibly annoyed. “Shoot him!” she barks at one of the soldiers but, even though he raises his rifle and points it at Parker, he hesitates.
And then Parker speaks.
“This ends now, Kate.”
Parker
Yeah, this ends here.
I look to my side. Amy is standing there next to me and the NYPD officers are fanning out.
The mother of my child is standing in a potential war zone. They're not just protecting us in rows of human shields, but they're taking defensive positions behind cars and in the doorways of buildings.
They're getting ready for a war.
We cannot fucking have this. Despite the fact that I've taken it this far, I'm not going to be known as the Mayor who started a civil war in his own fucking city.
I pick up the phone in my pocket and dial the speed dial button.
I don't need to say anything.
On the other side of the line, she gets the call and knows to set things in motion.
"Mayor Trask," the National Guard commander says through a bullhorn. "Please leave the premises."