Thirty-seven.
Thirty-seven countries have expressed their concern over what’s happening in New York City. Apparently, cities standing up to state governments with guns is something that the United Nations really does care about. Even countries like North Korea have reprimanded Parker Trask for what they perceive to be “an assault on authority.”
Oh, the irony.
Of course, my mother’s piggybacking on all that. She even made a speech to the UN - live video streamed from the statehouse, all teary-eyed about her beloved city and her corrupt and indecent family. We watched her speech at Parker’s office and, if he hadn’t stopped me, I’d have kicked and punched the TV until it became nothing more than splinters of plastic, glass, and wire.
That’s how mad I was.
Thirty.
It took me thirty minutes to pack my bags and move to Gracie Mansion. It’s surprising how little you need when you’re moving in with someone you love. Sure, I love all my makeup and expensive lingerie, but everything I needed—at least for the time being—fit inside two travel bags.
Parker invited me to move in with him because he wanted me close to him every day… But there was more to it than that, of course. He wanted to keep me safe. With the city descending into chaos, he didn’t deem it safe for me to stay alone in my apartment. My mom’s been growing more erratic with each passing day, and there’s no telling what she can do.
And yeah, I’m talking about murder; let’s not sugarcoat this. Do I really think she’d be capable of doing it? I don’t know, I really don’t, and that’s what scares me… Because, right now, I think my mother would be capable of anything to secure her power.
But not everything’s bad. Moving in with Parker has paved the way to good things… Love in time of war and all that.
Forty-five.
That’s how many times we’ve had sex. Approximately. I mean, the number’s probably higher than that, and it’s not like I keep count. I’m just doing an educated guess.
I’m a bit ashamed to say it, but I feel like we’ve done it in almost every room of the Gracie Mansion. And the place is huge. I know, if the world knew that Parker and I have been fucking like rabbits while the city is in a downward spiral, people would just straight up riot and nail us to a cross. But, hey, what are we supposed to? It’s not like we’re lazing around while the city goes up in flames. In fact, it’s just the opposite.
We’re working around the clock, using all of Parker’s political clout and connections to keep the city stable while we try to reach a solution for this mess. We’ve tried creating a communication channel between the mayor’s office and the governor’s one; unsurprisingly, my mother vetoed the idea before it even got off the ground. Lack of communication benefits her, and it makes us look like the bad guys.
So, yeah, forgive me if Parker and I like to get our minds off all this chaos from time to time. But it’s not like we can help ourselves; we’ve fallen hard for each other, and our bond grows stronger with each passing day.
Even though nowadays my life is built on doubt and confusion, there’s at least one thing I’m sure about: Parker is the man of my dreams. My soulmate. I know, I’m being all corny and cheesy, but I really do mean it.
Of course, all this loving and fucking was bound to have consequences, and this bring us to...
Five.
My period has been late for five days now. And I’m one of th0se girls who seem to have a clock inside her belly, you know? I’ve never been this late. And when I say never, I really mean it.
So I did what I had to do; I drove down to the nearest pharmacy, bought a pregnancy test and brought it home with me. It’s already in the trash, and I’m pacing back and forth in the master bedroom at the Gracie Mansion, still trying to wrap my head around the result.
It took around 30 seconds for two thin pink lines to show up on the test. Which, if you don’t know, means that I’m as pregnant as they come. If this were any other time, I’d be over the moon… But New York City is on the brink of civil war and, even though I know Parker loves me, I’m not sure if I should bring one more problem to the table.
If the newspapers found out that I’m carrying Parker’s baby, all hell would break loose. And my mother would seize the moment to stomp Parker. I wouldn’t be surprised if she talked the President into sending the Army in to depose Parker. Can you imagine tanks rolling down Times Square? No? Well, I can.
But Parker’s right about one thing: we've got to stop my mother. This is no longer a simple electoral race; this is about stopping a mad woman from seizing the senate. Once she becomes a Senator, she’ll use every dirty trick she knows in order to bend the whole senate to her will, and I know exactly where she intends to go with all this…
First the Senate, then the Presidency. And then there’s no telling what she’ll do. Can you imagine someone as crazy as my mother sitting in the Oval Office? I mean, she’d nuke New York City if that meant she’d get rid of Parker.
I don’t want my child to grow up in a world like that.
It’s almost funny how being pregnant changes my whole outlook. I was willing to step down in order to let my mom take the reigns of the whole situation, but not anymore.
Not when there’s a life growing inside my belly.
If she wants war, I’ll give her war.
But right now, I want anchovies. In chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. With bacon!
New York Daily Journal