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The petite officer pulled the fur collar of her NYPD uniform jacket tighter around her neck, and then adjusted the ear muffs under her hat. “Why did you volunteer us for this thankless detail again? I’m freezing. It’s got to be below zero out here.”
“It’s a rite of passage. Every NYPD officer has to walk a beat in Times Square on New Year’s Eve at least once in their career,” the senior officer assured his partner.
“Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Another one of those Reagan traditions.”
“It is. C’mon what else did you have going on?” Jamie inquired.
“Anything. Being warm. Going to a party. Getting all dressed up. Did I mention being warm?” Edie replied.
“With all these people here, how can you be cold?” Jamie gestured at the people who were already huddled behind the barriers waiting for the ball to drop at Midnight.
“They have body heat. We are out here in the open,” she reminded him gesturing to the spaces between the barricades where only law enforcement and media were allowed to gather.
“It will warm up,” he assured her, hoping he was right. It had been unseasonably warm the last time he pulled this detail.
Edie glared at him, not believing him. “It better,” she grumbled.
“Look at it this way,” Jamie reasoned, “Instead of being out and spending too much money tonight, you’re here making money.”
“I’m not the one who needs to work overtime to cover student loans for a law degree I don’t even use,” she teased.
Jamie protested, “Hey, I use my degree all the time.”
“Not the way it was intended,” she reminded him.
Jamie scowled. He knew she was teasing. In his heart he knew he made the right decision by going into the family business and becoming a cop. He could always be a lawyer later but he couldn’t necessarily be a cop later. Still, there were days, especially the day every month he wrote the check to Sallie Mae that he wondered if he did the right thing.
As they patrolled the area chatting amiably, they were both scanning the crowd for potential dangers. So far the most excitement was focused on people who didn’t get the memo and tried to bring in backpacks or booze into the area. Another few unfortunate souls tried to return to their places having abandoned them to get something to eat, warm up or use the bathroom not realizing that once you got out, you can’t get back in.
Occasionally another pair of patrolling officers would stop to exchange pleasantries or grumble about the cold. Despite the seemingly relaxed and jovial attitude all were aware that Times Square was a dream target for a terrorist. The smallest incendiary device would cause massive panic and in a crowd this size stampeding people would cause the most damage. After the ebola scare the idea of a bioweapon was also on everybody’s mind as was the unrest stirred by the racial tensions and allegations of police brutality. The NYPD was still reeling from the line of duty executions in Brooklyn and the credible threats against the police that caused the FBI to assign over 100 agents to protect the police.
“You know,” observed Edie, “they say whatever you’re doing at midnight is what the next year brings.”
“I never heard that,” admitted Jamie.
“No it’s true. So I’m kind of concerned that all I’m going to be doing is freezing my tush off,” Edie complained.
“It’s not that bad out here. It could be worse. It could be raining,” Jamie reminded her.
“Be happy it’s not or I’d probably be tempted to shoot you,” Edie joked.
“You did put on long underwear, didn’t you?” Jamie asked.
“You often think about my underwear, Reagan?” Edie teased, not missing the blush that flushed Jamie’s handsome face.
“Ugh. . . Ah . . well . . . I just . . . I just don’t want you to get hypothermia,” Jamie sputtered.
“Suuurre,” Edie agreed drawing the word out for sarcastic effect but wishing that Jamie spent any time thinking about her underwear and not the kind designed to keep her warm on the job.
As the magic hour neared, the area between the restrained crowds became increasing populated with media personnel. Every news outlet seemed to have a presence on the ground: ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, and CNN of course. But Telemundo, the BBC, LeMonde and Al Jazeera were also present.
Edie seemed to perk up when she started to see the celebrities: Ryan Seacrest; Al Roker; Jenny McCarthy and her new husband, Donny Wahlburg, who Edie claimed looked an awful lot like Danny; Kathy Griffen and Anderson Cooper were among the headliners. Jamie smiled when Edie started to bebop along to the beat of Taylor Swift’s latest song. Still Jamie knew they were there to work not party. He vigilantly scanned the crowd but all those stupid pink hats and people in 2015 glasses made it difficult to distinguish one spectator from the next. In a way, the souvenirs brought all the spectators together and despite the fact that they were from all over the world, it helped symbolize that we are all one people. Jamie liked that philosophy but he was acutely aware that it was the perfect cover for anyone up to no good.
When the jumbotron lit up with the countdown, Jamie and Edie stopped walking. Although Edie was finally happy that she was in the middle of everything and joined in the countdown, Jamie, like most of his fellow officers vigilantly scanned the crowd to make sure that the start of the New Year and the central park fireworks were the only things that were going to go off when the countdown reached zero. Hearing Edie begin to sing Auld Lang Syne along with the crowd, Jamie spared her a warm smile. “Happy New Year, partner.”
Edie’s eyes sparkled with mischief for a minute before she reached up to give Jamie a peck on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Reagan.”
Both wondered if Edie’s earlier prediction would come true. Since they were together at Midnight, did that mean they would be together for the rest of the year?