"Mr. Mayor, if you’re going to start accusing Governor Andrews of things, you better say it to my face too," I say out loud as I see people turn around to look at me. Of course they know who I am; my face has been on enough papers and televisions in the last two months that I’ll never be able to go to a strip club by myself again without getting photographed. "That way I can see that smug look of yours on it before I bash it in with my fucking fists."
That’s when the hearing bursts out in commotion. I’m guessing that they don’t get that many lawmakers fucking threatening each other in here too often. It’s too bad, really. Really does work well in getting all the fucking bullshit cleared up.
I start walking toward the main witness table that Carter is sitting at.
I told him when we first started preparing. I told him that just explaining his case wasn’t going to do it.
We had to be prepared for a fight. And I’m sorry to say, but I was fucking right.
I know you’re looking at me and wondering what the hell is going on. Why should I give any fucks what happens to Carter Andrews?
You’re probably rolling your eyes. You’re going to chalk it up to saying that this is a plot point that could have been better developed. That the author was in too much of a fucking rush to get to the end and how did the transition fucking happen where I went from getting into fights with my fists with this guy who I’m standing next to defending him.
Well, you’d be fucking wrong, first off. But that’s okay. We all make mistakes. Except yours fucking truly. But you wouldn’t care because if you and I were talking, we’ve already established that you would be wanting to fuck me. And yes, every time we do talk, I’m going to raise the fact that you want my fucking cock. I mean, it’s 12 inches of…
"Mr. Jeffries, this is a closed session and you are severely out of line," the fucking prick Mayor of New York City who is somehow leading this circus says out to me coldly. "You either need to sit down or leave, but I cannot have you disrupting these proceedings."
Don’t worry about him. I don’t give a flying fuck about Michael Anders. If you want to still talk about how thick and veiny my hard cock is, I’ll pull it out right here. I bet the press would love that.
But no, you want to know why I’m even here defending this Carter fellow after we’ve locked horns so many times in the past, right? Jobs, Vivian, you name it.
/>
"Mr. Mayor, I don’t know what you’re doing up there questioning Carter," I say out loud and in a clear voice so everyone can hear me. "But if you're really looking to probe for corruption, you need to hear what I have to say. Otherwise this isn't an inquiry. It’s a fucking lynching."
That gets everyone all excited and they begin to murmur all over again until the Chairman calls for order. He’s clearly not happy over what’s going on. But then again, he’s already fucking half-asleep. Probably dreaming about the day he gets out of this job and starts working giving paid speeches to people who are looking to curry favor in the government.
"There can’t be anything you could say to defend this man, Mr. Jeffries," Michael Anders says to me. You notice he doesn’t call me Mayor? Like he’s the only mayor in the fucking world. Just because he’s the leader of the greatest city on earth.
"I want to speak on the record, and if you don’t think it’s relevant, then I’ll get the fuck out," I reply back. I got to stay cool. Grace under fucking fire.
There’s a moment while Michael Anders looks at me. He knows Carter and I love the same woman. He knows Carter has spent a fair amount of time with Vivian in New Kingston. But he also knows that at the beginning Carter and I hated each other.
Oh, right. What changed is what you wanted to know, right?
"Very well, you can speak, but if you make a mockery of this process, or if you continue to display contempt with your vulgar language, I will ask the Chairman to call for your removal," Michael Anders says, pretending he’s being oh so gracious.
Listen, why don’t you try to see what changed instead of me just telling you, okay? And if at the end, I get carted off to jail, or anything else, I’ll explain it to you.
Because this shit is about to get real. Like right now.
"If I know Carter, he gave you the example of turning on your water at your sink and seeing brown sludge come out," I begin and Michael begins to nod. Carter is looking at me in a mixture of surprise, wariness, and curiosity. I bet a part of him thinks that despite all the sex we’ve had the last fucking month I’m still going to stick a knife in him or something.
"But the fact of the matter is that when you don’t have a job, or a voice in your future, you don’t really care about that brown sludge, because that’s what you fucking feel like as a person," I say and I can tell Carter now thinks I’m going to fucking back stab him. Michael is quiet.
"I grew up in Andrews Estates," I say and some people widen their eyes. They must not have known that about me. All they knew is this oil and gas tycoon that became the youngest mayor. They don’t know this side of me. "The government paid Carter’s father for it. Then they shoved some families in there. Then they forgot about them. Checked off some boxes and moved on. I know what it’s like to feel left behind. Not part of the fucking system."
The hearing room is quiet now. You could hear a pin drop.
"You want to see a modern day equivalent of what Andrews Estates used to look like before it got torn down, come on down to Main Street in New Kingston and look at the shops that are closing. The people who wake up with nowhere to go. The kids who have both parents out of work. People with nothing to do," I say.
"As much as I agree with you, Mr. Mayor," Michael Anders says to me, nodding now and using my title. "That’s what we’re investigating today. Did Governor Carter Andrews use an environmental bill to enrich himself from special interests and cast the people of New Kingston to the fires."
He’s talking to me like I'm a fucking baby. But I keep my cool.
"So basically, in this instance, these people have only two choices, right? Because that’s what you’re framing it as. The Boltiador family factories, which will go against the environmental bill. That means they’ll be spewing out some pretty toxic shit. Poisoning the water. Salting the earth. Or economic starvation. Is that it?" I ask Michael directly. I know he’s not going to be able to answer. "When the only choices you give a group of people are to work and be poisoned, or not be poisoned and starve, you’re still not giving them any fucking options."
Everyone is looking at me like I’m a bit crazy now. I bet you’re scratching your head trying to follow along. But don’t worry. I said I’d come for a knife fight. And I fucking brought my knife.