Kevin Patterson had chosen red because he’d read somewhere that made it a power necktie, it signaled to the subconscious that the wearer was strong and in control, knew what was going on. He knew he’d end up wearing the necktie Jill suggested, but he could do as he always did before letting her get her way and make the journey a little bit more entertaining.
“You mean because otherwise people might think their mayor has joined the Republicans?” he asked. “Or because red would make me a better target?”
“Kevin!”
He chuckled. “Now don’t get all het up, honey. Count the security guards outside—they’re twice the usual number. Think positive. They say the stadium’s sold out, and all I’m going to do is tell them exactly what they want to hear. A sitting mayor being cheered—how often does that happen? Even the sun is shining. You know what, Jill? I think this is going to be one helluva fine day.”
She laughed, patted his cheek, loosened the red necktie and dropped it on the bed.
“You’re right,” she said as she opened the closet and took out the blue one. “It will be a fine day. Just think, by the time we all gather this afternoon Quentin will be back home too.”
The door to their bedroom opened. “Mom, Siri’s lying, she says we’re going to have two guards with us in the car today!” That was Simon, eight years old and the youngest of their four children. The older three were closer in age, and when Simon came along Siri, now fourteen, had had some difficulty in giving up her position as the youngest in the family, along with all the privileges that went with it.
“Siri’s telling the truth,” said Jill. “Come on, Simon, let’s go and get your jacket and then we’ll leave and pick up Quentin.”
“Then where will I sit?”
“In your usual place.”
“Where’s Dad going?”
“Dad’s going to give a speech,” said Jill.
Kevin mimed a man giving a speech in the mirror, complete with outrageous facial expressions, and Simon laughed. Jill kissed her husband on the cheek and shortly afterward the mayor heard Simon’s voice as he and his mother went down the stairs:
“Can Quentin sleep in my room tonight?”
“You and Siri will have to toss a coin for it.”
“No, she cheats!”
Kevin checked that the blue necktie was tied right, sat on the edge of the bed and tied his shoelaces. Then he crossed to the window and saw Jill, Siri and Simon setting off in the car, a big, solid Chevy Tahoe. In a radio interview on a car show he had been asked if he drove a Chevy because he was afraid of losing votes if he drove a foreign car. He answered no, because by happy coincidence he was a patriotic citizen of a country that actually produced the best cars on the market. He didn’t give the other reason, which was that he felt his family would be safer in the home-produced heavyweight if it ever happened to collide with a foreign lightweight. The Chevy drove off and Kevin Patterson let his gaze wander to a small wooden cross standing among some trees by the wall that surrounded the property. The wall was superfluous, the chances of an intruder getting close were minimal since their house was part of a gated community, an enclosed area with 24/7 patrolling and dogs to guard the roughly two hundred inhabitants living in the seventy residences. Initially Kevin Patterson hadn’t been too happy about the concept of a gated community, but with the growing divide between rich and poor the need for protection had grown too. In 1980 there had been around five thousand gated communities in the United States and the number had quadrupled by the turn of the century. God knows how many there werenow. But in the modern world, human beings needed protection from their neighbors. That was the simple, brutal truth. The way to deal with the problem was just as simple; all you had to do was even out the economic disparities. That was the goal the Democratic Party and Kevin Patterson worked toward. It would take a while, that much was obvious, and there were times when Kevin Patterson felt like Sisyphus when he read those depressing reports of how the income gap was widening, and how even middle-class families were experiencing economic difficulties. Over the past thirty years the rich had grown extremely rich while the disposable income of the middle class stagnated as the price of education, health care and housing soared. When young people could no longer afford an education they no longer started out with an equal chance, they no longer had access to the dream promised by their country. But Kevin Patterson believed in a better world, he truly did. The same way he believed in the freedom of the individual. And that was why, on the way to this better world, he believed in the right of the hardworking man and woman to protect their own property and their lives. Contrary to what some in his own party seemed to think, his support for the NRA was not a cynical attempt to increase his vote.
Kevin Patterson headed toward the bedroom door but then stopped in front of the mirror again.
Sure, he knew that as a friend of the NRA his route to Washington, DC, where the gun lobby was accounted the third most powerful in the country, would be smoother. But that wasn’t the reason.
He dropped his jaw, hiding the folds of his double chin.
Not theonlyreason.
His black SUV stood ready and waiting for him in front of the garage when he emerged from his house onto the gravel drive. A security guard in civilian clothing held the back-seat door open for him.
“Anything new from the stadium about Gomez?” asked the mayor.
“No, sir.”
—
Even before he opened his eyes Bob Oz knew there was a headache waiting for him. The question was just where on the Richter scale it would be. He opened one eye and peered out. Nothing snapped, the world appeared to be fairly stable and safe. He opened the other eye. Not too bad.
He remembered, after he’d finished the last beer from the refrigerator, that he had had a small amount of whiskey left in the kitchen cabinet. But it can’t have been much.
Bob picked up the phone lying on the bedside table and saw that it was almost midday. He also saw that he’d received a text message in the morning.
Goodnight to you too. Liza
He was puzzled. He scrolled down and realized it was a reply to a message he’d sent shortly before 3 a.m.
