Stories From The 6 Train

Once she found the tape, it was downhill from there.

Anytime she wants me to do anything, she resorts to her threats right away. And it isn’t like there’s anything I can do. If that tape sees the light of day, Kinky Amy’s is going to be swept away by the resulting scandal, and I can kiss goodbye all the sweet investment I managed to secure with my hard work.

“I’ve done enough for you,” I say, gritting my teeth and making an effort not to slap my mother. It’s kinda sad if you think about it. She’s my mom, and all I really want to do right now is smack her across the face.

Ever since she got her hands on that tape, she has used me like some disposable tool. I’m not proud to say it, but she has forced me to seduce some of her political rivals in the past so that she could force them to align with her, or get out of the way. Yeah, I’m her femme fatale of service.

But I can’t do that to Parker. He’s my stepfather, for God’s sake!

“In case you haven’t noticed, Amy, this isn’t up for debate. You will do this. But don’t think I’m an evil bitch,” she whispers with a smile, and I do exactly the opposite. She couldn’t be any more of an evil bitch. “Do this for me, and I’ll let you have the tape once you’re done. Just do your mom one last favor.”

“One last job,” I correct her, pursing my lips.

“Whatever you want to call it, Amy,” she chuckles, throwing her purse over her shoulder and straightening the front of her haute couture dress. “Just make sure you do it,” she finishes off, and then walks out of my office.

I sit there in silence, my hands balled into fists. Once again, my mother has pulled me into her political schemes. And, once again, I have no choice but to do her bidding.

One last job then.

Parker

It's been four days since I announced my bid for the U.S. Senate and my phone's been ringing non-stop. My inbox is so full, I could spend the next ten years answering every fucking message, and I still probably wouldn't get through it all.

And you know what? I couldn't be happier.

Needless to say, people are pretty fucking excited about my announcement.

And this evening, I'm celebrating at Cipriani's where the liquor choices are large, and the jumbo shrimp cocktails are even larger.

I walk over to the bar and motion to the bartender for a drink.

"What can I get for you sir?" And before I can even answer, a smile of recognition spreads across his face. "Wait a minute, you're the guy I saw on TV the other day—the 'Just Ask Trask' guy. You're Parker Trask, aren't you?"

"That's me," I say, reaching over to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine—now about that drink," he smiles. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll take an Old Fashioned," I reply.

"Sure thing—but I've gotta say, you're anything but Old Fashioned. The way you've whipped this city into shape, and brought it all together, is nothing short of a miracle. I've never seen that from any other mayor, and I've been in this city my whole life."

"I appreciate that," I reply. I think about segueing his accolades into my new bid for Senator, but then I decide that'll come across as shameless self-promotion, so I hold back and simply keep it at a thank you and nod my head.

I watch as he makes my drink—muddling the sugar and bitters, pouring the whiskey, and topping it with a twist of orange and a cherry. The ritual of it all is somehow comforting. He slides it over to me.

"Perfection," I say, and he seems pleased.

I reach down to grab the glass and before I can bring it to my lips, a woman catches my eyes. She grabs the empty seat next to me, and casually looks at the bar's menu.

I'm trying not to stare, but fuck, this is some woman.

Did I just say that my drink was perfection? Because I was clearly wrong. This woman sitting next to me is perfection incarnate.

I look around, hardly believing that she could be sitting here, alone. There's probably a boyfriend—or husband—about to walk up any minute. I'm bracing myself for the disappointment. I'm expecting it.

When I steal another look at her face, I notice that she seems familiar somehow.

Do I know her from somewhere? I'm wracking my brain for an answer when she speaks up.