Chapter Twenty-Five Lila
Twenty minutes later, with my body still pleasantly heavy and my mind finally clear, I sit up and reach for my notebook. It’s strange how fast life snaps back into focus after moments like that.
“So, here’s the thing,” I begin. “The council thinks it has the power to decide your fates, but the reality is that public opinion is the true wielder of the sword.”
“True,” Noah and Evan reply in unison.
“Banks is heading to that council chamber right now, prepared to drag you all to the chopping block, because he thinks he knows what’s best.”
“And fuck him for that,” Noah grumbles.
“Exactly, because he doesn’t know what’s best. The people know what’s best for them, and Station 47 is a public service. You are this city’s heroes, not Banks’s scapegoats.”
Evan nods. “Well said.”
I glance over my notes for a moment.
After a twenty-minute nap, Evan and Noah coaxed me awake. They were fully dressed by then, and Noah had even pillaged the kitchen for some snacks while I was in an orgasm-induced coma.
But I managed to crawl off the floor, get some clothes on, and then dutifully ate the orange slices that Evan peeled for me. Little by little, I returned to a sense of normalcy and focused on the task at hand.
I’m pretty sure at least a few people in the firehouse have an inkling of what went down in this little room, but I also have an inexplicable faith that nobody is about to go tattling on us.
So, now, I’m sitting at my desk, and my loyal soldiers are perched on the bed. Somewhere out there in the city, Hale is donning a tie and heading to the city council chamber, ready to do whatever he can to at least delay Banks’s doom a little bit longer.
But we’re not going to abandon Hale. Station 47 is going to survive this.
It’s truly time to save these heroes.
“We need to rally the troops,” I continue, tapping my pen against the notepad. “And pray that no big calls come in for at least a couple of hours.”
By now, the crews have changed over. The staff who fought the fire last night have finally gone home to their beds, and a fresh cohort have taken their place. Except for Noah and Evan, of course, and a few others who have chosen to sleep through the day here at the station instead of going home.
“I can do the rallying,” Noah confirms. “But what for? What’s going on inside that beautiful brain of yours?”
I grin at them. Maybe it should be awkward, , talking strategy less than an hour after the delicious debauchery we engaged in, but that’s not the case at all. If anything, our focus feels sharper, our determination renewed tenfold.
It’s ten-thirty, which means there’s less than two hours until the emergency council meeting commences. That’s how much time we have to intervene.
“Actually,” I say to Noah, “my idea is inspired by you.”
“Me?”
Evan seems to understand, smiling and nodding. “But what about that mole you mentioned? If you don’t have access to your camera crew, how will we make it work?”
“Make what work?” Noah asks.
“I already texted Lou. She’ll bring Gina, too. Two handy lesbians are way more useful than those two treacherous little men anyway.”
Noah frowns. “I’m totally lost.”
“Plus,” I add, still ignoring poor Noah, “Gina’s cousin works for a studio down in Brooklyn, so she’ll be able to provide plenty of equipment.”
“Hello?” Noah waves his hands dramatically. “The court jester needs you to spell this out for him, princess.”
I offer him a winning smile. “Make yourself pretty, dollface. Because we’re going live.”
“Live? Like a livestream?”
“Yep.”
“Haven’t we already learned that a livestreaming format isn’t ideal for getting our point across?”
“No,” I argue lightly. “We’ve learned that going live at inopportune moments where countless factors are outside of our control is not the move.
But this is most certainty the right moment, and everything will be perfectly controlled.
This time, we’ll have a camera crew we trust and the aftermath of last night’s emergency to serve as proof of Station 47’s devotion. ”
Evan crosses his arms. “It’s funny, actually. Banks thinks he has the upper hand by making this move when he believes that our captain is holed up in a hospital. But everyone knows that a city is never more united than it is in the wake of a tragedy.”
“And you guys are the heroes of that tragedy, not Banks,” I add.
“So, we’ll steal his thunder. Save A Hero has garnered hundreds of thousands of loyal viewers, so we’ll use that platform to stream a town-hall style event right here in the firehouse.
We’ll plead our case one final time and urge the people of New York City—and elsewhere, if they care enough—to do whatever they can to interrupt the vote.
Maybe we can even reach them inside the council chamber and change their minds right then and there. ”
Noah chews on his bottom lip. “It could work, but it also might not.”
“It’s a long shot,” I agree. “But one thing that I’ve learned throughout this campaign is that you guys are most powerful when you’re at your most earnest. Staging outings and interviews is entertaining for people tuning in, but what really sings is pure honesty.”
“Yeah, think about it, Noah,” Evan muses. “Even though your livestream of that rescue last week wasn’t the best idea, the outcome was that people saw a public servant who put his life on the line for a child.”
I nod. “And a puppy.”
I just wish Banks wasn’t acting so hastily. If we had time, I might even be able to get in contact with that grateful father and invite him to speak as part of this livestream, since he was so passionately defending Noah online.
But we’ll work with what we have. It’s what I’ve done since the day me and Lou started Hartstrings PR.
We didn’t have much. We didn’t have a rich dad like Barry does or a vast network inherited from successful parents.
All we had was our hard work and determination, and that was enough to win us the small business grant that kickstarted everything.
I can make something out of nothing. So it shouldn’t be difficult at all to turn everyday heroes into undeniable victors.
And I love them enough that I have to try.