"I want you to know something."

Councilwoman Kay Giddings was already onestep ahead of her trusted aide, who had leaned in for that last-minute pre-debate advice backstage.

“Don’t worry, Mike. I’m not going to just ‘no’ something, I’m going to ‘no’ everything they throw at me.”

Kay had done her research and was sure that the debate moderator would have any number of gotcha questions to throwher off her game. She was ready with the kind of pithy answers her base wouldlove, the kind of combative answers that earned her the nickname Madam No and gother elected in the first place. Mike tilted his head and squinted.

“When they ask me if I favor solar-powered trolley cars downtown I’ll give them a one-word answer: no. When they ask me if I’m in favor of lower city taxes I’ll say no. When they ask about gentrifying that area over by City College I’ll just shake my head. They’ll get the picture. The answer is no. And term limits? Definitely no.”

Mike put his arm around Kay and shuffled her away from some of the print media that had gathered nearby.

“I don’t think you understand what I meant. I meant k––”

“Yes?”

“No, Kay, listen to me. I want you to kn––”

An elderly man in a Giddings sweatshirt stopped next to them and interrupted the conversation before being ushered to his seat.

“Give ’em hell, Kay! Punch ’em in the nose!”

“See, Mike,” said Kay with a confident smile. “You heard him. No’s. The no’s have it. They want me to be a fighter.And that’s exactly what I’m going to be.”

She reached for her phone and shoved it at Mike.

“Tweet that out, would you, Mike? Going in for round one. Taking no prisoners. They love that stuff.”

“Kay, listen. I can’t––”

“Of course you can. You’ve been tweeting for me for the last seven months. I even told you what to say. Just do it.” She stopped and looked above as if awaiting her muse.

“Wait! Round one of my debate with Moon Face Murphy. Like Nike says: Just do it. That’s gold, Mike. Put it out there.”

Mike stood motionless, debate prep notebooks under his left arm, Kay’s phone in his quivering right hand. He shook his head slowly.

“I can’t. Literally.”

Kay glared at him. Then looked away. Then looked back.

“Then I have no choice,” she said.

Mike had figured that these last few minutes before the debate would be the only time he’d have his candidate’s undivided attention, the only time he’d be able to be heard above the sturm und drang of the campaign. But he knew now, with Kay’s mind on winning the night that the private announcement of his debilitating disease and subsequent resignation would have to wait for a more convenient time.

The stage lights brightened and bled into the wings where Kay and Mike stood staring at each other.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the debate stage First District Councilwoman Kay Giddings!

Kay drew a deep breath and started through the curtain, then paused and turned toward Mike.

“Oh, Mike. I want you to know something: You’re fired.”

Mike smiled. “I know.”

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