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“Got it,” Jazz said. “Turn it left. Your other left, Nick. There. We’re good. Can you get closer?”
“We can try,” Cap said. “But we don’t want to be right at the front in case someone sees us.”
“On it,” Bob said. “Miles, Trey, and I can do it. Cap, stay with Aaron. We’ll get Nick as close as we can.”
“No,” Dad said, shaking his head. “We stick together. I don’t want—”
“Dad.”
He looked at Nick, worry clear on his face.
Trey said, “We’ll watch over him.”
Nick touched the back of his hand.
He gave Nick a quick hug. “Go.”
The crowd began to roar. Nick whirled around, looking at the stage. People were beginning to file on, people in suits and dresses. The interim police chief in dress blues, service cap pushed back on his head. Others Nick vaguely recognized. One man caught Nick’s attention. His black suit coat hugged his large frame, tie cinched tightly at his throat. Head shaved.
Anthony. Burke’s driver and bodyguard, the one who’d stopped Nick on the street last spring, forcing him into a limousine whereBurke lay waiting. He jumped off the front of the stage, going to one of the security guards, tapping him on the shoulder and whispering in his ear. The security guard nodded and said something back.
Miles grabbed Nick by the elbow. “We need to hurry. Excuse me. Pardon me. So sorry. It’s my kid’s dream to get as close as he can. Loves politics and fireworks. You know how it is. Ah, thank you. So kind.”
Nick looked back, Trey and Bob crowding behind him. He couldn’t see Cap or Dad anymore. It was as if they’d been swallowed whole.
They were still at least ten feet away from the barriers when Miles came to a stop. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get anyone else to move.
The multiple speakers around the stage flared to life, blaring music as the three screens lit up. The crowd cheered, hands above their heads. The screens flashed with images. Nova City, seen from above, a slow, panning shot that looked as if it had been taken from a drone. People walking the streets. Construction workers with yellow hard hats, laughing and shoving each other. A teacher in a classroom, students watching her as her mouth moved silently behind the swell of music. Parents with their kids between them, all smiling at the camera.
“Simon Burke believes in this city,” a narrator said over the images. “He was born here. Raised here. The blood of Nova City runs through his veins.”
The screen changed, showing a white woman with red frizzy hair sitting in a park on a blanket. “Why am I voting for Simon Burke?” she asked, perfect teeth flashing as she grinned. “That’s easy. Because I know he’s a family man.”
She disappeared, replaced by an Asian man with chubby cheeks who stood behind the counter in a bodega. “Because he understands the value of small businesses.”
A Black man, working in a factory, sparks flying behind him as he stood awkwardly, hands twitching, his smile more a grimace. “Because he’ll protect the working class.”
And then the screen changed again, and Simon Burke appeared, standing in front of a group of people, hands animated as he spoke to them, looking loose, relaxed. Whatever he said was muted, the voice-over saying, “Simon Burke knows what it means to struggle. He knows hardship. But instead of blaming others, he accepts responsibility and strives to be better. And that is the core of his mission: to make Nova City a better place for everyone, no matter where they come from.”
“Bullshit,” Trey said under his breath, eyes narrowed as he glared at the screens.
The screens changed once more, this time showing Burke sitting in his immaculate office, scribbling his signature on a piece of paper. He looked up at the camera and smiled. “My name is Simon Burke, and I approve this message.”
His image faded, replaced by white lettering exclaimingIN BURKE WE TRUST!
The crowd picked it up, beginning to chant over and over with an almost religious fervor.
“IN BURKE WE TRUST!
“IN BURKE WE TRUST!”
The chants dissolved into cheers as another figure walked onto the stage, waving both her hands at the crowd. She wore a sharp pinstriped suit tailored to her frame, a red tie, and black pumps, her blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She looked out onto the masses before her, and for a moment, Nick thought she saw him, a brief pause before her gaze swept away over everyone else. When she reached the podium, the screens changed again, showing her from different angles.
“How the hell are ya, Nova City?” Rebecca Firestone asked, voice carrying over the crowd. “Are you ready for a night you won’t forget?”
They were, if their answering cries were any indication.
“My name is Rebecca Firestone, and it is my great pleasure to stand before you tonight,” she said. “In a moment, the man we’re all here to see will arrive. His critics will scream at the top of their lungs that he’s just another rich man who’s onlyin it for himself and his wealthy friends. That he doesn’t care about the middle class, or those who have found themselves in the grips of poverty. That, my friends, couldn’t be further from the truth. Simon Burke is a man of the people, one who knows what it’s like to overcome adversity…”
